"Hey."
Spike looked up at the blunt greeting and nodded his acknowledgement, "Have a seat, Slayer."
She sat next to him, mimicking his posture and leaning back against the granite headstone. He offered her the paper-bag covered bottle and she took it, letting the liquid burn her throat and settle in her belly like fire.
"Thanks."
"Yeah."
"So. What're you doing?" She wondered casually.
"Pondering the meaning of life."
"Really?"
"No."
Hm. Slayer making conversation tonight? Fine, if that's the way she wanted it, "How's Dawn?"
"She's fine, at home hanging with Will and Xander. How'd things turn out with that girl?"
"What girl?"
"Your date to Xander's wedding."
"Oh, her. Went fine, I s'pose."
"Hm."
Spike looked over at her and handed her the bottle again, "She's not you."
Buffy was silent as she stared down into the bottle. She took a swig and handed it back to Spike, then hopped up, "I gotta go."
"Where?"
"Home."
"Why?"
"Because that's where I belong."
Spike sighed, "Right. Not in the dark with the creature you despise."
"I don't *despise* you, Spike."
"That's a new tune. You sure you know the words?"
"That made no sense what-so-ever." She muttered.
"I always make sense, Slayer. You just don't listen hard enough."
Buffy snorted indelicately, "You're always saying the same thing. You love me. I *know* that."
"But do you hear anything else I say? You need help, Buffy. You can't deal with everything alone."
"I don't want your help."
"Fine. Then get help somewhere else. You can't take care of everyone, but you try to anyway."
She was quiet, then shook her head, "Spike, you have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I? You want to take care of the Witch all on your own, and the little sis, and the whelp, when you can hardly even care for yourself."
"Shut up!" She ground out, leaning down and grabbing the lapel of his duster, "You have no idea--"
"When was the last itme you ate a full meal? Huh? How many hours a night do you even sleep?"
"I'm FINE."
"You'll never be fine." He said softly, "Not as long as you pretend you are."
She released him with a growl, "I hate you."
"Good. Hate me. It means you feel something, doesn't it? So you keep on hating me and then maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to wake the HELL up and feel everything else you've been pushing down for the past six months."
Buffy choked back a sob and backed away a few paces before finally turning and running from the graveyard.
Spike looked up at the blunt greeting and nodded his acknowledgement, "Have a seat, Slayer."
She sat next to him, mimicking his posture and leaning back against the granite headstone. He offered her the paper-bag covered bottle and she took it, letting the liquid burn her throat and settle in her belly like fire.
"Thanks."
"Yeah."
"So. What're you doing?" She wondered casually.
"Pondering the meaning of life."
"Really?"
"No."
Hm. Slayer making conversation tonight? Fine, if that's the way she wanted it, "How's Dawn?"
"She's fine, at home hanging with Will and Xander. How'd things turn out with that girl?"
"What girl?"
"Your date to Xander's wedding."
"Oh, her. Went fine, I s'pose."
"Hm."
Spike looked over at her and handed her the bottle again, "She's not you."
Buffy was silent as she stared down into the bottle. She took a swig and handed it back to Spike, then hopped up, "I gotta go."
"Where?"
"Home."
"Why?"
"Because that's where I belong."
Spike sighed, "Right. Not in the dark with the creature you despise."
"I don't *despise* you, Spike."
"That's a new tune. You sure you know the words?"
"That made no sense what-so-ever." She muttered.
"I always make sense, Slayer. You just don't listen hard enough."
Buffy snorted indelicately, "You're always saying the same thing. You love me. I *know* that."
"But do you hear anything else I say? You need help, Buffy. You can't deal with everything alone."
"I don't want your help."
"Fine. Then get help somewhere else. You can't take care of everyone, but you try to anyway."
She was quiet, then shook her head, "Spike, you have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I? You want to take care of the Witch all on your own, and the little sis, and the whelp, when you can hardly even care for yourself."
"Shut up!" She ground out, leaning down and grabbing the lapel of his duster, "You have no idea--"
"When was the last itme you ate a full meal? Huh? How many hours a night do you even sleep?"
"I'm FINE."
"You'll never be fine." He said softly, "Not as long as you pretend you are."
She released him with a growl, "I hate you."
"Good. Hate me. It means you feel something, doesn't it? So you keep on hating me and then maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to wake the HELL up and feel everything else you've been pushing down for the past six months."
Buffy choked back a sob and backed away a few paces before finally turning and running from the graveyard.