Spike finds himself in a richly decorated hallway, all stonework and high ceilings. It's not familiar, but if he had to take a guess, he'd say this definitely isn't anywhere in New York. He's staring up into the carvings above the strangely large doorway when there's a bark behind him, shortly followed by a female voice calling his name. Not Spike, but William.

He turns, confused because he doesn't recognize the voice, but he's sure that he should recognize it. Which is about when the friendly-looking black and white dog jumps up to rest it's forepaws against him. "William," it says, in an accent that reminds him of his mothers, "would you like to go outside? It's a lovely day."

"No." Outside? It takes him a moment to remember that he even could go outside. He backs away, not liking that this felt right, and then not liking that backing away feels even worse. "No. No more talking animals. I'm done with talking animals for at least a year. A lifetime. Nice to meet ya. Come back never." He takes the remaining steps to open up the door from the hallway and slips through, shutting it before the dog can follow him. She shouts for him through the door, but he doesn't respond.

This room is huge, some sort of dining hall, but something is keeping him from exploring it just yet. He leans his back against the door, not exactly sure what to do.