Spike set the liquor down on the table next to the basket of kittens. He only got through a couple hands before Buffy walked in.
"I knew I'd find you here," She sighed.
"Guilty as charged," Spike blushed. He stood up, knowing that Buffy wanted to leave with him and unwilling to resist her. Even with his new "liberation", Spike was a puppy when it came to Buffy. He would do anything for her. He looked back down quickly and realized that it wasn't worth leaving the booze. He grabbed it hastily noting Buffy's eyes roll. He offered it to her but she rejected it. He took a swig, nervous for the future. He didn't know how he could hide his affair from Buffy. Spike's an exceptionably terrible liar. Maybe he could just write her a poem to make it up to her? Nah, best save that talent for something really dire.
"We need to talk," Buffy said dismissively. She knows! How can she already know? Spike is done for.
"About what?" He says coolly. She turns to him and he is surprised to see fear in her eyes. It's not Faith. Something worse is plaguing Buffy. Spike takes her hand and looks at her reassuringly. They head towards Spike's crypt and he is so absorbed in Buffy that he forgets the place is wrecked. When they arrive, Buffy is astonished, then confused.
"Have you been robbed?" It's a silly question. No one wants furniture chosen by the undead, especially Spike. He's not exactly a pro at interior design. There are blankets strewn on the ground, articles of clothing all around, broken pottery on the ground, and the bed is in two pieces. Then she sees it. In the corner. Faith's leather jacket. It is undoubtedly hers and Buffy knows it. She looks to Spike with a scrutinizing expression torn between confusion and amazement. Spike takes one step back but there's no sneaking away from this one.