"She missed me, eh?"

"Yeah. She got here right after you dusted. We told her you'd been with us, and she was… well, surprised to say the least. She thinks you should tell Buffy you're back, especially now that you're, you know, back for good."

"It's very sweet of her to give her advice." Spike commented defensively.

Angel growled. "Watch it, Spike."

Spike raised his eyebrows. "Ooh, a new protectiveness. What oh what could this mean?"

"Spike!" Angel reigned in his temper with enormous effort. "I'm trying to be mature. Shut up."

Honestly puzzled, Spike shut his mouth. Angel paced in the shade, clearly wishing he could step out into the sunlight and give Spike what-for. Spike grinned to himself at the thought. Angel's impotent rage. At least the poof had never had to deal with a sodded government chip in his brain. Spike snorted. Oops – his respectful silence hadn't lasted long, had it?

"Spike," Angel's tone was warning.

"Right, shutting up." Spike was willing to hear what Angel had to say. After all, he could always decide to ignore it later.

Angel took a deep breath. "I think you should go to her."

For a moment, Spike thought he was too stunned to speak. But then he found his voice. "What's that?"

"To Buffy. I think you should try to meet with Buffy."

"I knew you meant Buffy, you dolt."

Angel exhaled sharply in frustration. "I know Buffy. She loves… with her whole heart. I know she's supposed to be with The Immortal, but… she's got to be going through a lot. I want someone with her. And God help me, I'd rather it be you than," Angel winced, "him."

This was touching. Spike immediately suspected something. "Uh, yeah. And you've given her up because…?"

Angel was acting all resigned, but Spike had trouble buying it. "I was the one to put an end to it with Buffy. We agreed it wouldn't work. Your relationship ended with you being consumed in a mass of fire and being sent to Hell, thus saving the world." Angel paused, brow furrowed. "Actually, I think maybe that just happens to Buffy a lot. But what I mean is, we had a chance to get back together, talk it over, and come to an understanding. If nothing else, you two deserve that. Buffy deserves that."

"Well, color me convinced." Spike shot his mouth off, albeit a bit more cautiously than usual. Angel did sort of have a point. He really sounded like he believed himself.

"Spike," Angel gave him a steely glare. "I know why you don't want to. Harmony told me that flashy-exit story, and I realize it's a pile of crap. You're scared. You don't think she meant it, and you're afraid to find out." Angel shrugged, calculatingly nonchalant. "Personally, I think you're probably right. But if you're not," Angel went back to being Intense Mister Staredown, "if there's the slightest chance that she's hurting and you're making it worse… well, I'm not going to let you do that to her. If you really care about her, you'll know I'm right. And you'll do what has to be done."

This time Spike actually was speechless. Angel gave him one last glare, and Spike nodded dumbly. Spike forgot to breathe again for a second as he watched Angel walk back into the lobby, past Faith (who flinched), and off into some dark corridor.

Spike turned to Illyria. "Did you see that!" he asked incredulously.

Illyria nodded logically. "Yes. I was present."

Spike exhaled in frustration himself, then got up to go back inside. On his way in, he passed Faith, still standing mutely, obviously hurt. He paused, feeling as though he owed Angel a little help with this, at least.

"Don't think too much of it," Spike attempted awkwardly. "He gets into snits sometimes. I mean, he's a right poncey—" Crap. Start over. "Okay, well, he's sort of a git, but he's… he's good and all. He likes you, really. I mean, he must." Disgusted, Spike decided that was quite enough of that. "So, uh… I need some cash. Angel won't mind that I borrowed some. Any idea where he keeps it?"