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Author's Chapter Notes:
This chapter is a little bit of a filler, there's just alot of in between moments that are still significant to the grand picture.
Willow saw Buffy sitting at their table early Sunday morning at the java house for their weekly cup of coffee. It was a tradition they had started the week Spike left, because Willow was so concerned with getting Buffy out of the house and interacting with people. She made her way over slowly, winding throughout the mess of scenesters and elderly people scattered all over in the tiny coffee bar, making a mental note of how nice Buffy looked today.

"You look great," she said, with so much enthusiam it could have seemed like a guilty lie to anyone who didn't know the red-head. "Didja kill a big nasty or something last night?" she joked, knowing all to well that her joke might turn out to be a half-truth.

"Nope, this is the result of a non-slayage-related closet cleaning. And maybe I'm just in a good mood," Buffy chirped.

Willow eyed her, almost suspiciously, "Um, that's great! It's just been awhile since you've been so awake in the morning I thought maybe something extra good had happened."

Judging by the smile on Buffy's face, she backtracked a little bit, "Oh! Something good has happened? What is it?"

"Spike and me are talking again. I think it's going to be my chance Will, you know, to make everything right again," she said, the excitement in her voice impossible to hide.

"Really?" Willow's voiced squeaked at the mention of Spike. "That's great, Buffy, really. Have you, uh, told him how life has been recently?" she skated around the issue, not wanting to ask if she told Spike how she had completely de-moralized herself in the wake of his absence.

"That's the thing, Will, he already knew. I mean, that doesn't mean I get a clean slate or anything, but it's going to make talking about it a hell of a lot easier since he already knows. I guess I'm still scared, to tell him a lot of it, but he knows and he's still talking to me, so I guess that's good right?" Buffy asked, her voice rising just enough for Willow to see that she needed assurance.

"Absolutely. I just don't want you to get hurt. Not that I think Spike's going to hurt you, I just want you to go into this with a clear head. I just don't want you to rush into this and find out that you're still not ready to committ." Willow said, waiting for Buffy's response.

"I'm completely ready to committ, why does everyone keep saying that? Ever since he came back, I've been ready to be his," Buffy replied, sharply and a little defensively.

"Okay, okay. I just.... Buffy, he doesn't want you to need him in order to be okay. A person isn't ready to committ to another until they can be happy with themselves first, which obviously you aren't," Willow said, preparing for an explosion.

"I hate that. I hate that everyone keeps saying, 'love yourself before you can love anyone else,' that's stupid. Love is depending on someone to hold you up and holding them up, love is being only a half of somethign great, rather than whole by yourself. I just don't see things the way other people do," Buffy said, letting her guard down.

"I know you don't," Willow smiled a slight half-smile in her best friend's direction. "You see things the way you want to, you always have, Buffy. And in a lot of cases, that's good, it's saved yours and a lot of other people's lives....but in a relationship you have to see things the way an outsider does or you're never going to be able to fix what's wrong."

That hit Buffy the wrong way completely, who was Willow to tell her how to fix her relationship? "You just don't get it, you can't. I'm tired of trying to do things your way, or Xander and Melanie's way. I'm doing things Buffy-way, and if I fuck up...ugh, nevermind. I have to go."

Willow crumbled, "Buffy wait! I just want things to be good for you. I'm scared that the two of you will start drinking together instead of helping eachother stop, I'm scared that you'll start sleeping together before your hearts are ready...I just..."

Buffy spun around, "We are sleeping together, or we have. Maybe it's wrong Wills, but guess what? I don't care." She stormed off before Willow had the chance to remedy the situation.

Willow looked at the ground and whispered to herself, "that's exactly the attitude that got you in trouble in the first place."

---

Spike sat in the living room/dining room of his one bedroom apartment, twisting a piece of one of Buffy's scarves between his forefinger and thumb. His cell phone rang three times, before he even considered setting down his beer to see who it was. He knew it'd be her, and he honestly didn't know what to say or do. He was lost in his thoughts, absent-mindedly watching some stupid reality show on t.v., trying to shut off his own words echoing throughout his mind.

Sleeping with her was the wrong thing to do, I know neither of us are ready to be together again, but she'll never see it that way....I'm going to have to tell her that this doesn't mean we're together again....she's going to be so mad, she'll tell all her mates and they'll think I'm using her, convince her to move on and lose me....It's never going to be "just sex," never....I can't hurt her, maybe I should just go back to her and work it out from there....no, that's no good for either of us....

More often than not, Spike arguments and inner monologues never offered him any sort of solution, if anything, they confused him even more. The phone rang again, he sighed and stumbled over the the counter to snatch it up from it's dock.

"...'lo?" he answered.

"Hey," he heard Buffy's voice sounding rather chipper on the other end. "I was thinking maybe we could do something in a little bit, you know, if you want to...unless you're busy, 'cause I'd totally understand....maybe go out or something?" she spoke fast and stumbled over a few words, clearly nervous that she was out of line.

He smiled at how utterly adorable she could be when she wasn't even trying. "Sure, ducks. But Buff, just because we're spending more time together..."

"I know," she cut him off dryly. It was becoming an automatic response of hers everytime he tried to bring up the subject of the two of them to her.

He grabbed another beer while he got ready to go out. He inhaled deeply before lighting a cigarette, maybe she really just didn't want to hear him say that they weren't getting back together right away and she really did understand, but knowing Buffy, she probably had fancy ideas brewing her her head all afternoon about skipping hand in hand into the moonlight. On his way out the door, he ran back to his dresser and pulled out 5 one-hundred dollar bills and stuffed them into the pocket of his duster, figuring maybe they'd run into that Charlie character and he'd be able to pay off her debts for her.

Walking up to her door he felt those old familiar feelings of self-loathing creeping into the back of his mind, reminding him that she was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of girl that he didn't deserve. Shaking them out, he waited to be buzzed in.

"Hi......" he began, taking in the image in front of him. She had on white high heeled sandals that matched her toenails and accented how tan she was, as his eyes moved upwards he took in those legs, god he loved her. A brown skirt ended at the knee on one leg and mid-thigh on the other, due to it's cut, and a fancy white tank top that dipped low enough for him to admire her collar bone and the necklace he'd bought for her gracing her neck. Her eyes were shining, with just enough make-up to make them look even greener than they already were, and her hair was up in a lovely style that he couldn't describe if someone were to offer him a thousand dollars to do so, "you look.....i don't even know."

"Well I hope it's the good kind of 'i don't know,' not the kind you give when your mom asks where her good perfume is," she said, matter-of-factly.

"It's always the good kind when it's you, luv," he smiled, offering her his arm as they made their way down the hall.

His inner-self was screaming, at his outer-self at this point, dammit you ponce, you're all 'mr. determined to find out exactly what and whom she's done in these past few months' until you catch sight of her. One look at those legs and you're imagining all the ways you could wrap them around you instead of teaching her to stand on them.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, doll. I was just admiring your legs," he added with a wink.





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