"Spike," Buffy said, ignoring his question. "You're…here. Alive."

He shifted, uncomfortable standing under his former lover's gaze. "Long story."

"I've lived on the Hellmouth for seven years, Spike. Nothing's a long story."

"Right," he said, shrugging his shoulder. "Amulet was magical, popped out of it in front of this lot here," he indicated Angel and the others, "been working with them ever since."

She stared at him, unable to form words. He was back. Her champion, her strength. He looked exactly the same: confident, open, and unafraid. And he still had the ability to make her feel warm and loved. Her throat constricted, sure she was going to burst into tears at any moment. She had to talk to him alone. "Spike, can we go outside for a minute?"

"Sure thing, pet."

They stepped outside of the building and into the night. Police sirens echoed from far away. Buffy shivered slightly in the cool air.

She looked at him, still unable to believe he was actually there. She felt at peace. Like she hadn't felt in a long time. "I don't know how I got through a whole year without seeing you," she said to him quietly.

Spike avoided her gaze. His mind formed images of her prancing about with the stupid Immortal, eating pasta, sharing one bloody cup with two bloody straws. "I'm sure you got along just fine, love."

She frowned. "Spike. Look at me."

He tried to, but instead ended up looking at the sky behind her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her burning throat. Something was wrong, off. Unwanted fear crept inside of her, fear she hadn't felt since Sunnydale.

Spike caught the look in her eyes, and his chest squeezed in pain.

Buffy finally found her voice, and scoffed. "What's up?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just…I can't…" Spike struggled to find the right words. He sighed. "I can't do this anymore, love."

She narrowed her eyes. "Do what?" she asked, suddenly annoyed by his cryptic statement.

"Do this!" he replied, equally annoyed. "This…with you. I can't be with you anymore."

She looked at him, her expression unmoving. Be with me? She thought to herself. What the hell is he talking about? She waited for an explanation.

Spike looked at her with resolve. "I've moved on."

The minute he said this, he could see Buffy putting up her guard, her shield. He couldn't touch her anymore. Couldn't see the real, vulnerable girl he loved. What he saw instead was the Slayer. He felt his resolve slip a little.

They stood in silence for a while, both wanting to say what they truly felt, but neither of them wanting to be first to put their guard down. They weren't ready for honesty this time.

"I have to go see Willow," she said finally, her voice expressionless. "Tell Angel I'll be back soon." She turned and walked away.

"Why don't you tell Angel yourself?" he called after her, but she was already out of earshot. "Stupid bint," he muttered.

Angel suddenly appeared behind him. "Wow. Real mature."

Spike spun around. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was inside minding my own business, and then I thought I heard some two year olds bickering outside. Oh wait…"

Spike rolled his eyes, walked past Angel and headed towards the building. "We weren't bickering, you ponce. I was being upfront, telling her how it's gonna be from now on."

Angel followed him inside and smirked. "You're really gonna win her back with that attitude."

"Oh, shut your gob. I don't want to win her back. I've already gone through that road. Memorized the bloody map. There's nothing left for us anymore," he said, shaking his head. "We're different people now."

Angel looked at him for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Illyria, why don't you and I patrol through the city, look for some survivors or stray beasties?"

She nodded, and they headed outside. They walked for a couple of blocks in silence. Finally, she spoke. "The vampire still loves the girl."

Angel nodded. "Yeah."

"Why does he attempt to hide it then?"

He chuckled. "He's probably just trying to keep from getting hurt again. Or he's trying to keep his pride."

Illyria shook her head in condescendence. "He is as idiotic as a human."

"Always has been."