He swayed in the doorway, unsure whether to knock or not. It was stupid for him not to, he did travel all this way, after all. With a deep breath, he lifted his hand, but a swift exhale later, it was back down at his side. He couldn't do this. He knew it wouldn't work. Giving up, he turned in the doorway, ready to head home to New York but the door creaked open, and she stepped out. Caught totally off guard, they stood dumbfounded on the threshold to her apartment, incapable of speech but eyes wide with conversation. With only another moment of hesitation, he continued to walk away, his black leather duster floating behind him with every stride.
"Spike!" she called after him as she began to run, "Spike?" She grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him towards her. He wasn't much taller than her, and he never had been, but it worked out for her now. She could look directly into his eyes, and that's exactly what she needed, she new his eyes never lied.
"Spike?"
"Hello, Buffy" he said with a sigh. "How have you been?"