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Buffy stood on a beach, watching as the sun set into the ocean. She could feel the breeze blowing through her golden hair, and she closed her eyes, smiling. Everything was peaceful, as if all the pain she'd known in the past few years had simply melted away.

She felt strong arms wrap around her, and she leaned back, resting against the comforting firmness of his chest. "You're here."

"I'm always here," a voice rumbled in her ear. "I'll always be here. With you."

Buffy turned then, looking into dark, soulful eyes. "Angel…"

Angel smiled sadly, stroking Buffy's cheek. Then, in a flash, he was gone, and Buffy was alone in an alley. She looked around, her heart beating faster as she realized where she was. "No…" she said softly, tears stinging her eyes. "Not here! Anywhere but here, please."

"Buffy!"

Buffy turned sharply at the sound of Angel's voice, watching as the bullet tore through his body. She ran to him as he slumped to the ground, and cradled his head in his lap. "Don't leave me," she begged through tears. "Don't leave me this time, please."

"I have to. You know I have to."

"No! I can't do it anymore. I can't be alone…" Angel's eyes closed, and Buffy held him tightly, mouthing silent pleas as she sobbed.

"This is your fault, you know."

Buffy looked up to see a second Angel standing in front of her, pointing to the dead body that she still held. "I…I didn't mean…"

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be dead. You killed me, Buffy. You have no one to blame for your misery but yourself."

Buffy looked down at the blood covering her hands. "I'm so sorry. I never thought this would happen. I thought…I thought we'd be happy."

"Guess you were wrong."

Buffy sat up in her bed, clutching her sheets to her. She trembled, trying to tell herself it was only a dream.

But it wasn't just a dream. She was alone. Angel was dead—and it was all her fault.

For the second time that night, Buffy cried herself to sleep.

*** *** ***

Buffy was grateful to see Spike was wearing a shirt the next morning. Granted, that was only because he had quite obviously passed out in his clothes, but if it meant she didn't have to see his bare chest, then she really didn't care.

By the time she'd finished getting dressed for work, Spike hadn't moved. Buffy got her keys and started out the door, but stopped when she was hit with a sudden concern. What if he was dead? She knew it was a bit farfetched, but she'd heard stories of people getting drunk, passing out face down, and choking to death. Shouldn't she make sure she didn't have a corpse in her apartment before she went to work?

Dropping her purse and keys on the table, Buffy went over to Spike and knelt beside the couch. She watched him for a moment, trying to decide exactly how to figure out if he was still among the living. His face was turned away from her, and with him lying on his back, she couldn't quite tell if he was breathing or not.

She leaned over him, reaching out tentatively to place her hand under his nose. Suddenly, Spike turned, grabbing her hand as he did and pulling her on to him. Buffy yelped, sprawling out on top of him ungracefully. She tried to push herself up, but Spike had wrapped her arm around her waist, keeping her pinned.

Buffy sighed heavily. Why was he here? Didn't her life suck enough without him in it? She squirmed, attempting to work her way off of Spike. Instead, she managed to dump them both off the couch, landing with her on the floor and Spike on top of her.

It was then that Spike woke, blinking as he noticed their positions. "Buffy? How…"

"I was checking to see if you were dead," Buffy replied with a glare.

"Huh?"

"Get off me," Buffy snapped, trying to push at his chest again.

Spike stood, rubbing his head. "I thought I fell asleep on the couch."

"You did," Buffy replied, standing and brushing herself off.

"That doesn't explain why I woke up on top of you, on the floor," Spike said with a frown.

"I told you—I was checking to see if you were dead."

"Maybe it's just the hangover's fault, but that doesn't make a lot of sense."

Buffy sighed heavily. "You weren't moving, so I came to see if you were breathing, and then somehow we ended up on the floor—okay?"

"Right. Whatever. I just want to go back to sleep."

"Fine. I'm late for work anyway. Bye."

"See you," Spike mumbled, lying back down on the couch.

It wasn't until Buffy was walking away from the apartment building that she thought about what had happened. She remembered the way Spike had felt stretched on top of her, and she blushed. His body was tight and well-muscled, and it had felt even better than it had looked…

Buffy shook her head. Spike's body hadn't looked good at all. Too skinny, she reminded herself. And it hadn't felt nice either. She wasn't attracted to Spike. Not at all. She pushed those thoughts out of her head, concentrating on the long day she was facing instead.

*** *** ***

"You know, you've been wiping off that same section of the counter for five minutes."

Buffy looked up at Willow. "Oh. It's um…really dirty."

"Or maybe you're really out of it. You've been here since the breakfast shift, Buffy. It's a slow day—tell Anya you need to go home. She'll let you. Rat-man Snyder isn't here."

"I can't," Buffy said, still running the wet rag over the counter. "You know I need the money, Wills."

"I know. You just look beat," Willow replied. "Is it because of your second job?"

"No. Percy was at it again with the music last night. And then I had a nightmare. So between the two, it wasn't a big night for sleep."

Willow frowned. "A nightmare? About what?"

Buffy shifted uncomfortably. "I don't remember," she lied, hoping she could convince Willow enough that she'd drop the subject.

"Nightmares suck," Willow said. "I have this recurring one where I'm about to go on stage, but I didn't even know I was in a play, so I don't know any of my lines." She frowned. "And then I'm chased by this guy carrying a plate of cheese. I don't know what that's all about."

Buffy quirked her eyebrow. "Cheese?" she asked, grateful that the subject had moved away from her own dream.

"Yeah. It's weird. So what are your plans after you get out of here?"

"I'm working the other job tonight," Buffy replied. "Until two."

"Two? In the morning? Geez, with your shift here and then that, you're pulling like a seventeen hour day!"

"I have two hours in between," Buffy replied. "Besides, I have tomorrow off. I can just be lazy Buffy. Well, except for that paper I have to write."

"Buffy, I wo…"

"I know, Willow. You worry. But don't. I can handle myself. All that matters right now is having enough money to stay housed while I'm finishing school."

Willow frowned. She knew there was nothing she could say to convince Buffy that she was pushing herself too hard. The door opened, and Willow looked up as a tall man walked in. She nudged Buffy. "Look, it's Riley," she whispered.

"I can see it's Riley," Buffy replied. "So?"

"So…go take his order," Willow said, gently pushing Buffy towards the register. Buffy sighed, dropping the rag to the counter as she did.

"Can I help you?" Buffy asked.

Riley's hands were shoved in his pockets, and he gave Buffy a boyish grin. "Hi, Buffy."

"Hi, Riley. Order?"

"Yeah, I'll, um, have a…small coffee."

"Just a coffee?"

"Yeah."

"You came all the way over here for a small coffee? I thought you lived on the other side of town."

"I do. You guys just have, um, really good coffee."

"We do?"

Riley sighed. "Okay, so you don't. It's actually fairly awful. But, um, I…I wanted to ask you on a date."

"A date? Me?"

"Yeah," Riley replied. "I know we don't know each other that well, but I want to change that. I…I really like you Buffy."

Buffy let out a deep breath. "Riley, I'm sorry. It's not that I don't like you, because you seem like a really great guy, but I just don't have time for dating right now. My schedule's sort of full."

"Maybe if your schedule clears up?" Riley asked hopefully.

"Maybe—but I can't make you any promises. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Riley said, poorly masking his disappointment. "I'll catch you later, Buffy."

"Guess he really didn't want the coffee," Buffy muttered as the door shut behind Riley.

Willow came over then. "So…what happened?"

"He asked me out."

"That's great!" Willow frowned. "Only you don't have a 'that's great' sort of face. What's wrong?"

"I told him no."

"You told him no! Are you crazy? Riley's been totally crushing on you all year—and I know it's mutual, so don't try to tell otherwise. The best friend always knows."

"It's not that I don't like him. I mean, yeah, he's nice—and definitely a hottie—but, I just… I can't. I have so much to do, and I wouldn't have time to throw a boyfriend into the mix. It wouldn't be fair to Riley."

"This isn't about that Parker guy, is it?"

Buffy blinked. "Parker? Abrahms? Willow, that was like three years ago."

"I know, but I haven't seen you date anyone since, and I thought maybe…"

"A world of no. I mean, yeah, Parker was a dick, but this isn't about him. I just have too much on my plate right now to mess with dating."

"You might be less stressed if you had someone to give you orgasms."

Willow and Buffy both whirled around to see Anya leaning against one of the food preparation counters. "How long have you been standing there?" Willow asked.

"Not long," Anya replied. "But long enough to hear that Buffy is apparently 'too busy' for orgasms. That's no way to live."

"Thanks for the input, Anya," Buffy grumbled.

"I'm only trying to be helpful. Impart my knowledge. Oh, and I wanted to ask about Xander."

Willow blinked. "Xander? What about him?"

"How is he doing? Has he mentioned me?"

"He's fine, and no," Willow replied.

"Oh," Anya frowned. "Well, tell him to come in here more often. I'll give him free food. Men like food." She smiled brightly.

"I'll pass the message on," Willow said.

"Great! Now get back to work." Anya went back towards the office.

Buffy and Willow shared a smile before Buffy went back to wiping off the counters.

*** *** ***

Again, Buffy came home after her second job to an empty yet loud apartment. She glared at the wall before going into her bedroom, collapsing on the bed still in her uniform. She'd told Willow that she was fine, but the truth was, she didn't know how she was going to keep holding on.

She was beyond exhausted, her one comfort being she could get some sleep the next day. But after that? She knew from experience that lack of sleep started weighing down on you, even if you tried to "catch up" by sleeping more when you could.

She toed off her shoes, curling up on top of the blankets. Her eyes drifted shut, and somehow even with the pounding music she managed to fall asleep.

*** *** ***

Buffy woke up the next morning, rubbing her eyes groggily. She frowned as she realized she'd fallen asleep in her clothes, and changed from the rumpled uniform to jeans and a t-shirt. She walked out into the living room, rolling her eyes as she saw Spike passed facedown on the couch again. She wondered if he could be anymore of a loser if he tried.

Buffy started towards the bathroom, stopping when she realized the door was closed. And was that the shower running? Buffy frowned as she heard a female voice begin singing loudly and off-key. Just what she needed—some skank in her bathroom.

Buffy sat at her table, waiting until the door opened and a blonde woman walked out. "And you would be?" Buffy asked.

The woman balled her fists and planted them firmly on her hips. "I could ask the same of you. And what are you doing in my blondie bear's apartment?"

"This is my apartment," Buffy replied through gritted teeth.

The blonde's eyes widened. "Oh! You're not like his wife or something, are you? Cause the last time I got caught by a guy's wife it was sooo not pretty."

"I am not his wife."

"Girlfriend?"

"No!"

"Roommate?"

"Uh, not really."

The blonde looked perplexed. "Then who are you?"

Buffy sighed. "I'm his father's wife's daughter."

The blonde frowned, her brow furrowed. "Wouldn't that make you his sister?" she asked after a moment.

"What! No! That thing is in no way my family," she said, gesturing towards Spike. "Now you—out of my apartment."

"Ugh. Fine. Tell Spikey I'll call him later."

"Whatever. Out."

The blonde grabbed her shoes and purse and stormed out of the apartment, shooting Buffy a murderous look as she did.

Buffy went over to the couch, shaking Spike hard. His eyes were bleary as they opened and looked up at her. "What the bloody hell do you what?"

"Who was that?"

"Who was who?"

"The blonde girl, in my bathroom. Who was she?"

"Oh buggering fuck. I really should learn to drink less." Spike clutched his head as if for emphasis.

"Do you even know her name?"

"Sure I do. Let me think…um…Heather? No, not Heather. Hannah! No, wait not Hannah. Oh, bugger, I know this one."

"You're a pig."

"Harmony!" Spike exclaimed. "It was Harmony. Harmony Kendall. She's a fashion major." He gave Buffy a smug look.

"Oh, I'm so impressed. Could you do me a favor?"

"Maybe. What?"

"Don't bring your sluts back to my apartment. The last thing I need is strange, scantily clad women running around."

"What am I supposed to do then? I can't just give up shagging."

"You could always go back to their apartments."

"I hate doing that."

"Why? Because then they might expect you to remember their names?"

"For starters."

"Again—pig."

"Oink, oink, baby."

"Well, you may not be done with Heather Hannah Harmony. She said she'd call you later."

"I didn't giver her my number! I…oh, hell. I bet Oz did."

"Oz?"

"Bass player I met the other night. The lead singer of his band might be quitting. If so, I could have myself an in."

"An in to what?"

"Uh, a band. That's why I'm here, remember?"

"I thought you were here to sleep on my couch and eat my food."

"Oi! I went shopping yesterday, I'll have you know." Spike crossed his hands over his chest. "Replaced everything I ate."

"Really?"

"Yes. I still had some money left over from before I came here."

"And that's where you've been the past few nights—trying to find a band to play with?" Buffy asked.

"Well, yeah. What did you think I was doing, just going out and getting pissed?"

"Yes." Buffy held up her hands in defense at Spike's look. "Hey, you've been passed out drunk almost every time I've seen you. What was I supposed to think?"

"That's where you meet the bands, pet. In bars."

"How classy." Buffy regarded Spike for a moment. So he was a deadbeat, but maybe he wasn't quite as much of a deadbeat as she had thought he was. "You said there was food?"

"Nothing fancy like. But there's stuff in there. Help yourself."

Buffy gave him a little smile and went into the kitchen. She opened the pantry and took out a can of soup. Spike followed her in, watching as she stood up on tiptoe to get a pot from the cabinet over the stove. Spike frowned as he watched her shirt ride up. He could see her ribcage and her stomach was concave.

"You don't eat much, do you?" he asked.

"I'm not anorexic," Buffy snapped, putting the pot on the stove and dumping in the can of soup.

Spike opened the fridge, taking out mayonnaise and lunchmeat. "I didn't say you were. You're just…really skinny."

"There something wrong with that?" Buffy asked, stirring the soup.

"There is if you're starving."

"I'm not starving. I mean yeah, sometimes I can't exactly afford three square meals a day, but I'm far from starving. And furthermore—mind your own business."

Spike's lips formed a straight line as he worked on fixing sandwiches. She was right—it wasn't his business. If the bint wanted to starve herself, he certainly didn't care. Still, he fixed lunch for her as well.

Buffy sat across from Spike at the table, glancing awkwardly between him and the food. "Thank you for this," she said.

"It's the least I could do," Spike said with a shrug. "I don't have enough quid to pitch in with the rent right now, but I can help with the groceries."

Buffy took a bite of her sandwich and swallowed. "I sort of assumed you'd be mooching."

"Appearances aside, I do have a bit of honor," Spike said, slightly offended. "I'm not a complete and total wanker."

"Not a total wanker. Got it."

"So what's your story anyway?" Spike asked. "Last time I saw you, you were all feisty and blonde. Now you're…not."

"It's none of your business," Buffy replied.

"Some boy done you wrong?"

"I said it was none of your business!" Buffy snapped.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Right. I won't ask again then."

"Good."

They were both silent for the rest of the meal.

*** *** ***

Sorry for the delay in updates. I was out of town for Christmas, and then I had company. But I should be able to return to a more regular posting schedule now.

Just to alleviate any fears, I know I brought Harmony and Riley into the story, but this is still a Spuffy fic. Yes, I'm going to have a bit with them in order to add a bit more tension, but Spike and Buffy are the couple for this fic. And just to let you know, I find Riley really icky and try to have as little of him as possible…

Thanks for all the reviews you've left so far. Keep leaving them, and I'll keep writing. :)





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