A/N: It appears that a lot of people liked that chapter… so I thought I'd bring out a second. Ha. I forgot Buffy was supposed to be drunk… silly me.

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"Spike?" she repeated, making a strange snorting noise as she picked herself up of the ground. She giggled. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you drunk, slayer?" he frowned.

Her eyes widened. "No!" she glanced at the ground. "A little…" her eyes snapped up to him. "Not as drunk as you."

He raised his eyebrows at her and stared for a moment. "Right then." He pivoted on his heal and turned to walk away.

"Oh no you don't, mister. We have a lot to talk about, you and me."

She grabbed his shoulder and hauled him to the ground.

"Let's start with…" she threw a sloppy right hook at him, catching the side of his face. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were back?"

He cocked his head to the side and stared at her.

Making a frustrated squealing noise, she sighed and turned to walk away. Then, she thought better of it and turned back around. "Where am I going?"

She looked at him as though she expected an answer.

"Uhhh…" his eyes darted around the street. "Home?"

She blinked at him.

"To… a hotel?"

Again, she blinked.

"Are you gonna help me out at all, pet?" he asked, rubbing the side of his face where she had hit him.

"You wish," she scoffed, turning around to walk away and once again turning back to face him. "I mourned you." She said truthfully, raising her eyebrows slightly, "Not well, I comply, but I mourned you just the same." A tear fell down her right cheek. Not a million tears, as he'd hoped. Just a single tear. And it hurt more than a river full. "It hurt. To have you dismiss my feelings that day. Just… wave me off… Then, you come prancing back into my life. After all this time… And here you are. All… here."

All he could do was look on. He couldn't tell her anything right now that could be of use. Depending on the amount of alcohol she had had, she may not even remember his being here in the morning.

The tear fell down the side of her face and dripped onto the ground. To him, it was slow motion. He watched it as it splattered. He watched as it dried up quickly. He watched as the ground became damp. At first he thought it was becoming damp with her tears, but looking to the sky proved him wrong.

Lightning flashed, followed closely by the crackles of thunder. Rain washed over her, causing her to shiver slightly.

"You were gone. For so long… you have been gone… why are you back?" she asked softly.

"I can't tell you that now, sweet. For the moment, let's just get you home, yeah?" he bowed his head slightly and peered up at her, rain dripping off the end of his nose.

She nodded and bit her bottom lip, turning and walking away. No request for him to walk with her, no invitation for him to come home with her. Nothing. He just watched her walk off. Alone.

Buffy yawned stretched, falling with a thud. Glancing around, she saw a few different views of her bedside table and bed.

She groaned and reached for her head, which pounded like there was no tomorrow.

I'll murder you, Faith…

Crawling over to the window, she drew the blinds to prevent the sunlightfrom blinding herand pulled herself to her feet, looking around the bedroom.

What happened last night?

She walked over to the bathroom started the bath. This could soothe her…

She stripped out of her clothes from the night before and put them in the basket by the door.

The tub neared full, and she turned it off, stepping in warily. Laying back in the warm water, she reached up for her head, pressing her hand against it and shutting her eyes.

Suddenly, she remembered what happened the night before. Her eyes snapped open and she sat upright immediately, cursing her hangover just as fast.

She climbed out and dried herself off, running to her bedroom and dressing in a tight pair of jeans and a baggy red T-shirt.

Not the best look when you are about to confront your previous lover, but it'd do.

She sighed irritably, storming into the kitchen and downing two pain killers before walking to the door and pulling it open. On the other side, stood Spike.

Her eyes widened and she stepped backwards. He stood with his head tilted and his blue eyes staring at her.

"Spike…" she whispered. Sure, she remembered parts of last night, but seeing him in her conscious state was completely different. Completely… real.

He didn't move, just continued to look at her.

"You're…" she released a breath, and moistened her lips with her tongue, "Here…"

Slowly, he inclined his head.

"Oh god…" memories of the night before flooded back to her. Her speech of mourning him, and his dismissal of her feelings, and… everything.

Her bottom lip trembled. She bit it to stop herself from crying. And still, he watched.

"Are you going to… say… anything?" she asked. Dumbly he stared back at her, studying her.

She took in a deep breath and released it.

"Fine."

She slammed the door in his face. Tears flowed down her face, but she held her breath to contain the sobs. She heard him sigh irritably behind the door before his fist slammed into the wall. A variety of his English curses could be heard in the hall.

She opened the door again and peered out at him. He glanced at her and looked at the ground.

Wiping her tears away, she walked forward and threaded the fingers of her left hand with those of his right, just as she had on that day.

He looked at their hands then to her. No words were needed. Both just felt the contact and remembered the flames.

It was all they had to do…

A/N: Hey, that could be an ending, or it could be a beginning. Your choice.

Please tell me what you thought and if you have any suggestions, please tell me.

Thank you