Spike had been standing in his usual spot outside the Summers house for an hour before he dared to step closer. He considered knocking, or simply going in – he'd find out soon enough whether or not the Scoobies had uninvited him again. But then he settled for looking in through a window. And there she was. Smiling and talking and moving around the house. It couldn't be. Had they tried that resurrection spell thing again? And why the bloody hell hadn't anyone felt like that might be information worth sharing with him? He couldn't take it any longer.
Interesting. He hadn't been uninvited.
"What did you do?", Spike demanded of nobody in particular, his eyes fixed on Buffy. She turned around and beamed at him.
"Spike!" She looked at Willow, still smiling widely. "It's Spike, and he's wearing the coat!"
Spike stared at her for an endless moment, willing reality to bend to his wishes, and when it didn't he thought he could feel his unbeating heart shatter to pieces. As if that hadn't already happened. His shoulders slumped.
"Oh", was all he said. All eyes were on him, but it was Dawn who spoke.
"Willow fixed her, Spike. We needed Buffy."
"This. Isn't Buffy", Spike growled through gritted teeth. "And when were you going to tell me?"
When he just met silence he let out a breath.
"Fine. Don't talk to me. Not interested in the bot anyway."
He left the house, his heart heavier than it had ever been in the seven days since her – death. Face it, Spike. She's gone.