Tori followed Spike into their two-bedroom apartment and slammed the door behind her. He knew better than to try to talk to her when she was like this. He knew all about adjustment periods. He was still going through one himself. He'd learned that the best thing to do when Tori got all balled up was to give her some time and space whether she liked it or not.

"I could snap her neck," she seethed.

"And what good would that do us, Love?" Spike rationalized, dropping his keys on the kitchen counter.

He rummaged through the refrigerator for a jar of pigs' blood. He busied himself heating up his meal while Tori paced the living room. She paced andraged when she was angry. And right now,she was wound almost as tightly as the first time he'd met her.

"I didn't ask for this," she reminded him. "But I'm not going to turn my back now. It's too late."

He nodded, not wanting to interrupt her tirade. He punched in the numbers on the microwave and watched as his cup of blood turned on the carousel.

"She needs to learn to fall in," she continued ranting. "I expect all hands aboard. And that includes her."

He took his mug from the microwave and sniffed it. It wasn't the same as human, but it would do. He couldn't even think of taking human blood without a hint of nausea washing over him. The soul would never let him forget.

"Barbie's got a bad attitude," she snarked. "And I swear to Christ if she makes this more difficult than need be, I will personally bust her jibs."

Spike set down his mug and slowly approached the now shaking woman who was beginning to wear a hole in the living room carpet. She stopped pacing when she saw him standing in front of her. Her eyes were dark and unfeeling, a look he recognized all too well. He'd seen it in those of his sire's every day of his unlife until she left him. He let his hand brush over her heated cheek in an effort to bring her back from wherever she'd gone.

"Look at me, Kitten," he commanded. She tightened up for the slightest moment before turning her gaze to his face. "You here with me?"

She let out a ragged sigh. She was still new to all of this. She was still learning to deal with the real world after years in volatile situation after volatile situation. Spike watched her cautiously. Sometimes he thought she might break down, and he was sure she needed the release, and then she'd stiffen her spine even more to keep from showing any weakness.

"Yeah," she told him, trying to steady her breath.

"Then look at me," he said slowly.

She raised her eyes to his and he saw them soften a bit. After six months of sharing quarters and training together, he liked to think he knew a little something about her. She amazed him with the way she swallowed down her fear. But he could see something simmering below the surface that he might not have recognized before he got back his soul. He could see the kills etched into her soul. He knew the heaviness from the burden of taking life after life. It was the one thing she refused to talk about with him. He'd tried to get her to talk about her feelings a few times and each time, it had ended badly with her storming off to train alone. He'd find her nearly punching a hole through the heavy bag hours later when he'd gone to offer his apology. She always accepted with a curt nod and a whispered "no bother."

"Come sit with me," he told her, pulling her with him to the sofa.

She sat and clasped her hands tightly in front of her, refusing to relax at all.

"Not gonna bite your head off, Love," he told her, hoping she'd ease up a bit.

He could see her working her jaw, muscles tensing and untensing, waiting for the big lecture. She wished he'd just get on with it; say whatever he wanted to say in the little bitch's defense and get it done.

"I know you already have some preconceived notions about the Slayer," he began.

"She's not the Slayer," Tori retaliated.

"That's true, Kitten. She's not the Slayer. But she has been the Slayer for seven years. And you haven't had to be that girl," he reminded her.

"If I had been that girl, my father would not be dead right now," she said determinedly.

"You don't know that, Baby," Spike tried to soothe.

"I do know that," she said, the distance between them growing even further apart.

He took an unneccessary breath and stood up. He had to get out for awhile. Alone. He tried and tried to get through to her, but she was intent on pushing him away every chance she got.

Tori watched him grab his keys, wishing she knew how to give an inch.

"Wh-where are you going?" she asked, barely recognizing her own voice as it cracked.

He was surprised at the tone in her voice, the tiny bit of panic he'd never heard from her before. He swallowed down the urge to stay and chip at her well-built walls a little more. After Buffy, he promised himself he would never let himself care about another Slayer, yet he found himselffighting against the pull with Tori every day.

"Think you need some time to yourself," he muttered. "Know I do. Driving me crazy with your stiff spine and closed doors, Tori. All I want is a crumb, is that too much to ask?"

She felt the unfamiliar sting of tears at the backs of her eyelids and staved them off by replacing them with her customary silent stubborness. He recognized her resolve and nodded.

"When will you be back?" she rasped, fearful her resolve would completely crack.

"When I decide whether or not I've got something I want to come back to," he said before slamming the door behind him.