Spike spent a lot of time in the woods, even with the sun up, for lack of anywhere else to go. Exploring mostly. He made it as far as the barrier, just enough to give it a few kicks and prove it was there. By the time he arrived back at the house, he was starved for blood and glad for the fact he'd brought some back from the bar. He wasn't in the mood for a social outing.

He let himself in. No knocking. He lived here, after all. Or that was the plan, anyway. Whatever Buffy's response may have been, he could see the bridal magazines right off.

Bloody hell.

Well to hell with that. He didn't even bother saying hello. Let her make her wedding plans. Wordlessly, he continued to the kitchen. He'd get some blood, heat it up, and then leave. Simple enough plan.