She was there, looked like in the flesh too. I reached out to touch her, and she flinched away, her eyes nervously darting around the room. "Shhh luv, it's alright. I won't hurt you." I realize then that she probably doesn't care what seeing her is doing to me. How I want to die with the sheer joy of simply looking at her again and how I will die if I've simply passed out from too much alcohol flowing in my veins.

"Where am I?" She was whispering. I'd never thought of Buffy as the whispering type.

"You're in LA, in a hotel actually." Her eyes are still flickering all over the room, and she's crossed her arms. She doesn't want me to come near her.

"Is this Angel's hotel?" Straight onto the poof isn't that always the way.

"Yea Buffy, this is his hotel."

Her eyes finally stop flopping all around the room, and settle upon my own. "You're drunk." She's going to giggle; I can feel it. She's going to laugh, and then the bloody tears are going to leak out all over her face, and I'm going to wake up bathed in my own sorrow. This can't be another dream. I can't handle another dream. "I missed you Spike." Her body crumples onto the floor.

I was wrong, dreams I could handle. I'm shaking her, the girl who a moment ago was talking to me. The dead girl. She's not dead again. She's warm, and breathing, and her blood is moving, but I'm terrified. "Buffy, God Buffy you have to wake up. Come on Precious."