Wood unlocks a padlock on his garage and explains to Spike that he uses it as a workroom. Opening the door, he refers to the place as his "sanctuary" and steps inside. Spike follows him into the dark room, making small talk, and there's an extended pause before Wood flicks on the light. This extended pause telegraphs two things: first, that the room is going to be all shocking and shit when the lights come on; and two, that the writers totally can't be arsed to remember even the simplest details of vampire lore. Namely, that vampires can see in the dark. So when Wood finally turns on the lights, Spike's all bewildered that he's in a mostly empty room, which is entirely wallpapered in nailed-up crosses, both hand-made and store-bought. Looks like Wood got a little carried away after he saw a segment on Decorating Cents about how to give your home a Spanish Colonial flair. Wood, honey, even Christopher Lowell agrees there's such a thing as taking a theme too far. Spike doesn't admire Wood's decorating scheme very much, but Wood just tells him to stay away from the walls. He then begins clicking away at an iMac as Spike wanders about suspiciously. Ominous music tells us something big is about to happen, as if the creepy crucifix collection weren't "hint" enough. Spike asks Wood for his story, but Wood claims there's not much to tell. He's just a guy who's "trying to do what's right." Wood wants to know "what kind of man" Spike is, but Spike's not in the mood to share. "Sorry, not much for self-reflection," he replies. Wood doesn't seem to care too much either way. He goes back to clicking away on his mouse and, after a final tap, begins to unbutton his shirt. Um, huh? This isn't going to get romantic, is it?
Not looking at Spike, Wood strips down to his tank top and accuses Spike of being the sort of guy who "just careens through life, completely oblivious to the damage he's doing to everyone around him." Well, pre-soul, I'd say he basically enjoyed the damage he was doing to everyone around him, but yeah, now he's oblivious or too self-involved to think it's important. Wood opens a drawer and begins to buckle himself into some wacky studded-leather battle gauntlets. He then turns to Spike and tells him he knows a lot about him because he's been searching for him for a long time. Spike looks baffled. Wood finally lays his cards on the table. He's been searching for Spike "ever since [Spike] killed [his] mother." Strangely, Spike just looks around and blandly says, "I killed a lot of people's mothers." And Wood is all, "Oh, you did? Well, never mind then! I didn't know it was a vocation! The fact that my mother doesn't stand out from the crowd of your victims soothes me! I'll just put aside my crazy obsessive search for vengeance now." Actually, no. Wood points out that his mother was, in fact, a Slayer, and therefore Spike might recall her in particular. Spike, never swift but also usually not quite this slow, finally figures out what Wood's problem is and that he himself might be in a little danger. Wood clarifies that he wants to "kill the monster who took [his] mother away from [him]." He then clicks "play" on the single song in his "I'm gonna take revenge on my poor dead momma" iTunes library, and a super-cheesy version of Spike's trigger song begins to play. Spike vamps out. Wood is gratified. I scrape out my own eyes in boredom and frustration, because watching two characters I don't give a flying fuck about beat each other up over some longstanding and totally irrelevant grudge is not the way I want to spend one of the final episodes of Buffy. Watching episode after episode about Spike's journey when Giles has become a prick and I don't know a goddamn thing about what Willow or Xander are thinking, or even who they are anymore, and will likely never find out, breaks my heart.