The small coffee house was silently humming with the staccato conversations of it's patrons. Spike felt so of place while Buffy seemed to blend in perfectly. Everyone there knew her by name, and even their waiter seemed to be smitten with her. Spike actually was jealous of them. She twirled her spoon in the drink, staring at it for a moment, then lying it back down on the table. She looked up at him, her eyes glassy from held back tears.
"How come you never called to tell me?" She asked, trying her best to conceal the hurt in her voice.
He looked down at his hands, which he nervously folded on his lap. He could feel his heart racing, he smiled. He could feel his heart racing. Oh, how he ached to tell her everything. But he couldn't. Not right now. He had to start from the beginning.
"I wasn't sure how you would react." He said truthfully.
"Yeah, me neither." She said quietly.
An awkward silence followed that statement and the both darted their eyes, suddenly finding the table tops and coffee cups amazingly interesting.
"I'm sorry" he told her. And she suddenly she directed her attention to him again. He had never once said he was sorry. Not once. But he just did. He had traveled hundreds of miles to see her, and to apologize. She didn't know what to say.
He saw her struggle for words, so he quickly began to talk again. "Let's start from the beginning."