The next morning the group packed up again and went on. Where they were going, they didn't know. They sure as hell weren't going to Cleveland.

Willow dozed as they drove, resting her head upon Kennedy's shoulder. Xander sat staring out the window like a zombie, humming to himself. Dawn sat quietly talking with some of the Slayerettes. Giles tried not to crash the bus into the boulders that lined the road. Everyone was doing something. Everyone was trying to move on. Even Andrew sat playing a video game. Everyone was dealing. Why couldn't she?
Buffy opened her bag, which Dawn had brought for her. Inside were various articles. Clothing. Stakes. Books. A few crosses. And a manila envelope. A manila envelope? Buffy frowned slightly and lifted the packet to her lap. With it wafted a familiar smell. Like leather and bleach and cologne. Buffy bit her tongue. She carefully opened it. Inside were several sheets of paper. Upon pulling them out, she found all too familiar handwriting. And that smell.
She didn't think she could read the letter. But she knew she had to. Even looking at the paper brought tears to her eyes. But she had to know. She began to read.
"Buffy-
I hope the Niblet gives you this. No matter what happens.
Because there are some things that I need you to know.
I couldn't give a sodding rat's ass that you are the Slayer. I
don't care you have all those wonky superpowers and that. Those things
have nothing to do with us. I know there is no us, and you have to
know that drives me absolutely mad. But who better to understand you?
You changed me. You are the only person who has ever thought I
could be more than what I am. This amulet in my hand-you said it
belonged to a champion. And you gave it to me.
I love you. You know I always have. And always will. It drives
me bloody crazy to know I can never have you. But that's nothing
compared to thinking-just for a moment-that I couldn't see you.
Couldn't hear your voice. I do believe I'd die.
You and I, we're bloody perfect for each other. Know I'll love
you forever. See you soon, pet.
-Spike"

Buffy. That's what it was. It was Buffy. Everything came back to him as if a floodgate had been opened in his mind. He could smell her sweet intoxicating scent all around him. He heard her voice. He could feel her hands in his hair, on his face. This must be heaven, he thought. He heard the way she laughed and cried. He sensed her smile. He could see those endless waves of golden hair moving lightly in the breeze. Every bit of her.
He could see her, yes. And hear and feel her. Even smell her. But he couldn't lay a hand upon her. He couldn't whisper in her ear or kiss her. He tried to reach out but had no hands with which to reach. She was there, around him, and he still couldn't have her. This must be hell, he thought.
Spike felt the waves of panic around him once more. No. He couldn't. He needed her. He couldn't live without her. Yeah, but you're not living. Excellent. Brilliant. Talking to himself. That would help things. Bloody.
He became more and more agitated. He couldn't calm himself-the echo of her voice, "I love you", the feel of her hand in his. He couldn't have left now. Not when things were finally changing. When he was changing. When she was changing. No.
He sensed something. It chilled the air around him, yet was bright and warm. It slid up beside him. "What's wrong, William?"
"Mother?"

"Mom?" Buffy woke up with a start from another dream. She looked around. Still on the bus. The envelope beside her. Peculiar dream. Her mother had been sitting with her in their living room. They had been planning Buffy's funeral. She had ordered two hundred white roses and a white casket.
She looked around. It was late. Most everyone was asleep. Even Giles. They weren't even moving-he had pulled over to catch a few hours rest. Night and the world was asleep. Except for Buffy. She sat there, remembering Spike's letter. Why did she always cry herself to sleep? He didn't even know. In the end he didn't even know I loved him.