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Spike paced angrily in his hotel room. Who did she think she was, treating him like he was nobody important to her? Hadn't he risked his life for her time and time again? "Hell, sod risk it," Spike said aloud. "I bloody gave it. Burned up closing the Hellmouth, I did. Not my fault I came back!"

Spike began to pace faster, gesturing as he spoke. "And did I even let it end there? No. I risked my newly-corporalized arse to fight yet another apocalypse for her. And do I even get a 'thanks, Spike?' No! All I get is a few shags in the dark and then the snippy little bint walking out on me like I'm nothing." Spike stopped, forcing himself to stand a little taller. "Well no more of that. It's been five years. I'm not the Slayer's whipping boy anymore."

Spike grabbed his coat, heading for the door. It was time for him to find something to eat.

*** *** ***

Spike stood in the alley, his senses peaked as he searched for prey. A scent caught his nose and he grinned predatorily. "Here kitty, kitty," he said softly, his features changing. He pounced on the cat, making short work of it.

"I really need to find a butcher's shop," Spike said, wiping his mouth. He looked down at the cat laying at his feet and frowned. "You're pathetic, mate," he said to himself. "Wandering around like this, surviving off strays and rodents in back alleys. Talking to yourself… No wonder the Slayer hates you. Wanker."

Spike shook his head, changing back to his human visage as he walked out of the alley.

*** *** ***

Buffy stopped outside Spike's hotel room. She knew she should just walk away and hope he left the next day. She shouldn't have anything left to say to him. She'd made her feelings quite clear earlier.

At least she'd made her thoughts clear. She still wasn't quite clear on her feelings herself. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Maybe if she could just talk to him for a little while, she could get some closure on that part of her life.

Spike threw open the door. "Buffy1" He smiled for a second, then frowned. "Go away, Slayer. And since when did you bother to knock?"

"Would you rather I have just busted in?"

"I'd rather you didn't show up at all. Now go away. This is my room. I paid for it for the night."

"Actually, no, you didn't. And I want to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Spike blocked the door. "No. And why do you want to talk? You never want to talk."

"I just…" Buffy stopped, frowning. "Are you drunk?"

Spike shrugged. "Of course."

Buffy rolled her eyes and pushed Spike out of the way. She gasped. "Spike, you trashed the room!"

"Not really," Spike said, shutting the door and leaning against it. "Just threw some stuff around, is all. I did break the mirror, but I didn't need it anyway."

"Well, the next guest might! Clint is going to be livid!"

"Oooh…don't want to upset the git of a husband."

"He's not a…" Buffy frowned. "A git. He's a wonderful man."

"Good on him. Although I never thought you'd be satisfied with a man that couldn't show you a little demon now and then." He leered at her, running his tongue over his teeth, behind his upper lip.

Buffy glared. "Go to Hell, Spike."

"Already been there. Don't you remember, pet? Climbed right down into the mouth of Hell for you, I did. You told me you loved me then." Spike walked to her, running his hand through her hair. "You remember that?"

Buffy felt her pulse quicken for a moment before she pushed him away. "Yes. And I also remember not meaning it—as you pointed out at the time."

Spike glared. "Why are you here then? I can make myself miserable on my own just fine, thank you. Don't need your help."

"True. You always were the master of self pity."

"'Scuse me?"

"Oh come on. 'Drusilla left me…there's a chip in my head…my soul hurts.' All you ever think about is your misery."

"Me? What about you, Slayer? 'I shagged my boyfriend's soul away...my little sis is a magical key…I died…'"

"Spike, those were legitimate problems. I mean, I died."

"Hey, I died, too. Still dead, as a matter of fact. Don't hear me complaining about it."

Buffy threw up her hands. "I'm leaving. I don't know why I thought I could have a conversation with you."

"Good! Didn't want you here in the first place."

Buffy stormed out, closing the door behind her with a satisfying slam. She had gotten only a few feet when she heard a crash in Spike's room. "Dammit, he's breaking things again," she muttered, turning around to save her husband's motel. She stopped short when she saw Spike sprawled on the floor with a chair over him. She rolled her eyes, going to him and lifting the chair. She knelt beside him and shook him. He didn't budge, so she shook him harder. Still nothing. Buffy sighed heavily, picking Spike up and carrying him over to the bed.

She started to leave after she had deposited him on top of the blankets, but stopped when she saw a light cut on his face with blood running down his cheek. "This is just so he doesn't stain the sheets," she mentally assured herself. Buffy got a washcloth from the bathroom, dampening it with warm water before going back to Spike, wiping the blood from his face.

Spike opened his eyes, smiling when he saw her. "Are you taking care of me, pet?"

"Don't think too much of it," Buffy said. "I didn't want you bleeding all over the bed. People get a little squeamish about staying at a motel with blood on the beds."

Spike chuckled a little. "Do you remember when you did this before, in your basement?" Buffy frowned, and Spike elaborated. "With the First. After…after I attacked Andrew."

"I remember."

"You said you believed in me." Spike's eyes closed, and he murmured sleepily, "Do you still believe in me?"

Buffy froze. She stared at him for a moment, but he didn't say anything else. "Spike?" He didn't answer, and Buffy figured he was asleep. She got up, rinsing the blood out of the washcloth at the sink before walking to the door. She stopped, turning around to watch Spike for a moment.

"I still believe in you," she whispered softly as she turned around and left the room.

*** *** ***

"Your shift was up well over an hour ago."

Buffy shut the door to the small apartment attached to the motel that she shared with her husband. "It's nice to see you, too."

"I've been waitin' up," Clint said. "Where have you been?"

Buffy considered lying to him, but decided against it. "I went to talk to Spike."

Clint narrowed his eyes. "At this time of night?"

"I figured he'd still be awake. He's sort of…an evening person."

"I want you staying away from him. I don't like you being alone with your ex in the middle of the night."

"Spike isn't my ex."

Clint raised his eyebrow. "What is he then?"

"He's…it's…it's complicated."

"Uncomplicated it then. Stay away from him. He'll be leaving tomorrow anyway."

"Clint, he's…"

Clint took Buffy by the shoulders, turning her to look at him. He lowered his gaze, meeting her eyes. "Stay away from him, Buffy. You don't even want him here."

Buffy blinked, then sighed. "You're right, Clint. I don't want him here. I'll stay away from him, all right?"

Clint smiled. "Good. Come on, baby. Let's go to bed."

"Let's. I'm tired."

Clint put his arm around her and walked with her to the bedroom. "Me, too."

*** *** ***

I know that was a short one, but I didn't have a lot of time to write today. I'll try to have more tomorrow. Please let me know how I'm doing!





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