It was so dark in the jungle. There was no artificial illumination, so Buffy was limited to examining Spike using the small streaks of moonlight that got past the canopy.

There was no bleach. It was still a distinctive face. The absence of the look-at-me-while-I-preen hair meant even greater cheekbone domination. The clothes remained the same, though the black t- shirt was currently accessorized by Arom guts.

The lips moved, and the face spoke.

"Doesn't almost getting killed strike you as rather a dramatic way of going about getting a man's attention, slayer?"

"I was so not almost getting killed."

"Fine. He was all over your back like that because the two of you were participating in some new demon/slayer mating ritual. Sorry I interupted the tender moment." He turned his back, and began pushing his way through the jungle at a right angle to the direction she'd fought though the jungle from the bar. She followed him.

"Spike, wait up"

"No"

"Spike..stop being a dick."

"I didn't want to see you." He was pissed.

"So that's why you came and found me in the middle of the jungle. That's why you knew exactly where to find me." He'd stopped at that, and she'd thought he was going to turn around and face her, but he just shook his head.

"I know how your mind works." The condescending, assuming ass.

"How's that Spike? I really want to hear this."

"You thought that as soon as you got here, that I'd be underfoot, right? Mooning about and trying to get you to leave Angel and come live out here with me. And you had this whole speech worked out, which I'm not going to paraphrase here because I expect we'll hear the whole thing later tonight anyway. But then I wasn't around, and that pissed you off royally, not only because it ruined your plans of orating on your pet subjects of soulmates and rehabilitation, but also because it messed with your narrow perception of who you think I am, and what your freshman psychology professor told you my behaviour will be. You were frustrated, so you decided to fall back on the one thing you know about me for sure, that I'll always watch your back in a fight. And hey, it worked. Congratulations." Finally he turned to face her again. They'd fought through the dark green to reach a wide path. It was lit on either side by flaming lanterns, each around fifteen metres apart.

"So am I right slayer? Am I?". He was so arrogant and eager, the way he was looking at her. Smirking with his cheeks sucked in, hands in his long coat's pockets, leaning into her personal space. Expectant and patronising.

Well, Buffy thought,it wasn't all concious like that. She kept this to herself, and choose to answer with her best and most trusted weapon- sarcasm."I love it when you tell me how I feel Spike. You're so smart and insightful. Admit it- there's a reason you and Dr Phil have never been seen in a room together." Spike seemed to enjoy this response. His eyebrows lifted, and his mouth was twisting towards a smirk. And then he remembered himself, his proper role tonight. He slouched back into his own space, and pointed up the path, his head slightly lowered.

"This runs between the town and the beach. For the tourists. Follow the lights and you'll be back on the street. Shouldn't have any trouble finding the bar from there." Buffy knew this was true- there were only eight buildings in the whole town.

"Where are you going?"

"Finish patrol. Don't worry slayer, I'll come sit with you later so you can vent all over me. There's first aid stuff behind the bar. Sharon'll get it for you."

"You patrol every night?"

"Part of the deal. Feed and water the clientile, stop them from being eaten."

"Wow, Spike the routine humanitarian. I was wrong. You're less Dr Phil, more Princess Di." His head twitched as if to look at her, but he controlled the impulse. Instead he walked away without a word.