"Angel?" she repeated, a mixture of confusion and sadness lacing her voice. "What… what is it? Is something wrong?"

"That depends on what your definition of wrong is," he said, his voice fading as he turned from the phone to look at the person standing to his left. "Look, this isn't really something I should tell you over the phone. It's… Well, you kind of need to see it for yourself."

"Angel, just tell me. Signs of a future apocalypse? A strange demon you need my help with? Hair advice?"

"I have been thinking of switching up my style, but I don't know what else would work on me," he started. "Wait, no. More like the second option. A very strange demon."

"And you can't…," she began.

"No. I can't. I'll… We'll… See you at sundown."

"We'll? You're bringing strange demon thing to my house? We can't meet at one of your evil little office buildings?"

"You know about…?" he trailed off.

"Not the point, Angel. Tell me what is going on."

"Buffy, just trust me," he said before hanging up on her.

"Willow!"

"So they're bringing you a demon that even Wolfram and Hart didn't know how to deal with?" Willow asked as she pulled a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet above her. "I mean, I guess you are the slayer."

"A slayer, now," Buffy corrected. "Besides… To my house? He's bringing this thing to my house? What if it's slimy or chaotic or… pees on the seat?"

"Whoa. Do demons pee?"

"Will, not quite the direction I was going in."

"Sorry," she answered with a smirk, holding one of the steaming mugs in front of her friend. "So, do you think this is something we need to get the old gang together for?"

Buffy took the cup of coffee Willow offered her and blew the steam away from her before taking a sip. She stretched her legs out underneath the table and looked into the black liquid that rippled from her shaky grip. "What old gang?" she whispered, and began speaking again before Willow could answer. "Giles is in England, Anya is gone, Spike is…" her voice cracked.

"Oh, Buff," she sighed, coming to rest on her knees in front of Buffy before pulling her into a comforting hug. "Buffy."

"Guess what you guys? I got my cap and gown today!" Dawn squealed as she came through the door. Her smile faded quickly as she saw her blotchy-faced sister lying against Willow's body. She dropped her stuff by the door and rushed to Buffy's side. "Buffy, Willow… What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing, Dawnie. Everything's fine," Buffy said quietly as she raised herself into a sitting position. "Why don't you try on your cap and gown and show off for us? Gosh, it's so hard to believe you're all adult-y now. You know, with you only being a few years old and all."

"Hey, I think you mean thousands of years old… or something," she said as she hopped up from the couch and grabbed the plastic wrapped symbol of graduation. "Do I really have to put on the cap? I mean, not so much with the flattering."

"I'll give you a pass. Only a couple of weeks until I get to see you walk across the stage in that monstrosity anyway," she laughed, watching her younger sister pull the cap over her head and spin around in front of them.

"Oh, Dawn," Willow started, "you look so… so…" she couldn't finish her sentence. She and Buffy had broken into waves of laughter—the kind that caused them to bowl over onto each other and slap one another in an effort to communicate. When they would finally stop, one would let a small giggle escape and it would start all over again.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Thanks, guys."

Buffy took a moment to recollect herself. "Dawn, it's not… You look great," she managed to get out before the laughter started again. "Okay, so no one really looks amazing in those things. But here's a tip: Push the cap back on your head a little. It's what I did at my graduation."

"Yeah," Willow agreed, "and it looked great. You know, until the mayor turned into a giant snake and the hats kinda came off."

"Ah, the memories," Buffy sighed, looking up and off into the distance. "Don't worry, Dawnie. I'm sure your graduation will be reptile-free."

"Thanks to Spi—," she gasped and her widened eyes turned to look at her sister. "Buffy, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…"

After a few seconds, the pained look faded from her face and she began to shake her head. "It's fine. Really. Um, hey, what do we want for dinner?"

The group of four—Willow, Dawn, Xander, and Buffy—sat around a table that was full of food. They sat in an awkward silence, each knowing why the amount of food before them could rival the pantry of a buffet restaurant. Sounds of clinking silverware against china filled the room until Dawn let out a soft chuckle. "Hey, you guys, we could start our own version of 'Stomp!' right now," she said before creating a beat with her fork and glass. The three others looked at her with slight smiles on their faces but did not join in. "Sorry," she said sarcastically, before stuffing her mouth full of mashed potatoes.

"So, Angel is bringing a demon over for dinner?" Xander asked.

"Well, I don't think we're exactly going to sit around and swap recipes, but yeah. Sort of," Buffy replied.

"And he thinks that is safe?" he started. "You know, I never really trust—,"

Buffy put her hand up. "Not now. Please," she said with pleading eyes. "Just… not today."

Xander gave her a knowing look and nodded before saying, "When is this thing supposed to get here? This thing as in the demon… The other demon, not Angel," he corrected when Buffy gave him a stern look.

"He just said sometime after sundown," she replied.

A knock at the door made her jump. She traded glances with the group—knowing glances, explaining without words that they needed to be on guard for whatever Angel had brought with him. She trusted the vampire, but he had a knack for leaving out valuable information or only telling her what he thought she needed to know—he was Mr. Mystery for the first few months she knew him and he hadn't strayed entirely too far from that moniker. Plus with his recent takeover of Wolfram and Hart… Let's just say Buffy wasn't completely ready to put her guard down around him just yet, despite their history.

"Okay, Angel, what kind of Hellbeast have you brought me and so help me if he pees on the seat," she said, opening the door.

"Nice to see you, too, Buff. About the bathroom habits… I don't know about the bladder action, but he does spend a while in front of the mirror. A little narcissist if you ask me," he said as he slowly moved to the side of the doorframe.

As his body moved to her left, the new body that took his place left Buffy with her mouth agape. She let her tearful eyes gaze at him, taking in every inch before attempting to decide if he was real or not. The boots, the jacket, the black t-shirt… Then you had the blindingly blonde hair and the piercing blue eyes—eyes that weren't without tears themselves, though they rolled at the emotion they were showing. Her hand reached out before her, placing itself on the chest of the figure standing before her. It clenched, feeling the coolness of his body—his hard, real body—underneath it. A sob escaped, shaking her body.

"Spike," she whispered.

His hand slowly made its way to hers, enveloping it tightly, before he whispered back, "Buffy."

Author's Note: Sorry it took me a while to get this chapter up. The beginning of it just wouldn't come out for a while and I wasn't going to post anything that I didn't feel was at least par-worthy. I hope everyone enjoys it! Thank you all so much for all of the reviews so far! It honestly makes my day to see a review alert pop up in my e-mail, so keep them coming. To be honest, the reviews definitely keep me motivated to keep posting… so, you know, keep that in mind. Just post any thoughts at all you have—suggestions, criticisms, rants or raves... whatever. Until next time!