"Bloody Hell, Peaches," Spike complained. "What's the big emergency?"
Angel had checked on Buffy before going back outside to wait for Spike. She had fallen asleep on the cot in the few brief moments it took for him to make the call.
"Listen, I... I can't do this anymore," Angel told him.
"Do what?" Spike asked, hesitation in his voice.
"Come in here," Angel told him, practically pulling him through the front door.
Spike froze when he smelled her. She was here. This was her house. Oh, God. He was going to kill Angel. He turned to leave only to be blocked by Angel.
"She's sleeping. For now," Angel told him.
"I told you that I didn't want her to know. I want her to move on. Live her life. Be a real, live girl," he angrily told his grand-sire.
Angel understood what Spike wanted. He understood better than anyone that he wanted to make things right. Make things better. But they weren't. Better.
"Spike, sit down. There are a few things you need to know," Angel told him.
Spike shot a quick glance toward the front door.
"Don't. Just don't. Sit and listen," Angel warned him.
"Oh, Bloody Hell," he bitched, practically throwing himself down on the sofa. He couldn't help but scan the room.
"No telly?" he asked suddenly.
Angel smiled. No telly.
"She, uh... reads. A lot," Angel told him.
Spike broke into peals of disbelieving laughter.
"You're serious?" he finally asked.
"She reads all the time. And she told me that she talks to you."
Spike's expression darkened.
"I haven't--"
"I know," Angel sighed. "She called today, Spike. Wanted me to meet her for coffee. She looks..."
"Beautiful," Spike sighed.
"Terrible," Angel corrected. "She's so thin and pale. She wouldn't eat. Just drank cup after cup of really sweet coffee."
Spike looked concerned. That didn't sound like his Slayer.
"Maybe she just wasn't hungry. Not like she needs to be force-fed cheeseburgers and fries, though," he quipped.
Angel shook his head. Yes, it did.
"She wanted me to come here with her," Angel admitted.
Spike felt the small amount of bile rise in his throat. Oh, was that what this was about? Getting his blessing or whatever to move in on the bint?
"I left to protect her. To let her live a normal life. You don't get to take that from her," he warned.
"That's not why she wanted me to come here," Angel told him. "She sleeps all day, she's up most of the night. I made a crack about how it looks like she hasn't seen the sun in ages and she told me... she hasn't seen the sun since she last saw you. Right down to the minute."
Spike felt his chest constrict. Christ, what was she doing?
"She managed to save all of your books. Your journals, poetry. She recited Byron to me. Recited it, Spike. She's taking an online course in English Lit at UCLA. She's top of her class."
That's my girl, he thought.
"But that's it Spike... she... she has a shrine to you down there. I think that's where she's been sleeping. She's not well."
He felt concern grip him. Not well?
"What do you mean she's not well? Should we call the Bit?" He was worried.
"I think she probably already knows. It's you, Spike. She's sick over you. You need to go to her. Stop this act of... nobility."
Spike began to scoff and head for the door.
"William," Angel called to him, stopping him as he placed his hand on the knob. "Just... see her. She's sleeping."
He crossed his arms in front of his chest like a defiant child. He nodded in resolve and followed Angel to the basement door. She was still curled up on the cot. He felt tears stinging his eyes when he saw her. She was so pale. So thin. She looked dead.
He stealthily made his way down the steps and took in his surroundings. His books. The heavy bag with the picture he drew of Angel still taped to it. The cot. Her body wrapped tightly into itself. She stirred and began crying softly in her sleep.
"No! Won't leave you," she whimpered. "Never leave you. Never. Love you."
It broke his heart to see her like this. She twitched and then let out a devastating cry.
"Nooo!" she keened. "I love you! You have to come with me! You have to get out! No! Spike!"
Without even thinking, he was at her side holding her, stroking her hair. Telling her it would be okay.
"Buffy, pet. It's okay. Shhh..." he crooned to her. Her eyes fluttered open and a scared smile flashed across her face. Her hands trembled as she reached up and touched his cheek.
"Are you... real?" she asked, confused now by what was fact and what was fantaasy.
"I'm real, love. I'm here. I won't leave you again, never leave you," he promised.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She looked to the steps to see Angel leaving. It was real. He was there. She couldn't focus. She felt her head spinning with a thousand questions and a million I love yous.
"Oh, God. You're real! You're real! I love you so much, I swear. I'm not lying! I love you.." She was choking on big sobs, choking for air.