It's late when they arrive in Rome. Neither of them want to talk about what had gone down in L.A.; they don't want to talk about much at all, not to each other, not to anyone at the moment. They're wore out, physically, mentally, and emotionally. They rest somewhere in between, but it doesn't help much; by the time they reach Buffy's apartment, despite healing quicker than a human would, they still look like they've had a run in with a dragon-which neither feel like explaining at the moment. They're prepared to anyway-Buffy would demand an explanation-but when they knock on the door, it's not a Slayer that answers.
"Oh, come on, this again?"
Angel doesn't bother to hide his distaste, and from the look on Andrew's face, it's obvious he feels the same way. Of course, Spike gets a hug, but that's expected.
"Buffy isn't here. She's out on a date."
And somehow, after Andrew opened the door, that was expected, too.
"You can wait if you want, but she might not be back tonight."
Spike makes himself at home, sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the table in front of him. Andrew joins him, and they play a Nintendo game together while Angel sulks in the corner with his arms crossed. He leaves after half an hour passes; Spike doesn't listen to where he says he's going, but he guesses that it's to find her. He considers joining him, but he doesn't want to look like a ponce; he'll be there when she does get back.
"So. . Want to talk about it?"
Andrew's looking at his beat up appearance, at his torn up clothes.
"Not likely."
A drawn out understanding from Andrew, something about warriors and boundaries and respect. He doesn't listen to most of it, mainly just catches the end.
"You can take a shower if-if you want."
He does.