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It had been at least four hours he had last talked to her. Four hours, that he had sat in his crypt. He could still smell her scent, and it was strong. He nervously paced around his crypt, wondering if he should tidy up, incase she came by.
“No!” Spike growled, and picked up a table and threw it across the crypt. The table exploded on impact, and pieces of wood went flying every where. A large piece came flying right at him.
“Whoa!” He jumped out of the way in time. If Spike would have stayed were he was standing, he would have defiantly been dust. He sighed audibly, and slumped into his worn out chair.
“No.” He said in a mournful tone. “She won’t come by here. She doesn’t-” He stopped himself. And sighed again. He could smell her. It seemed to be getting closer. But he could also smell death, so a vampire attack must’ve brought her there by accident. She wasn’t there on purpose. Spike sighed.
“There she goes. *Venting* as she calls it.” Spike shook his head.
Just then, the door slammed open. Spike jumped up in surprise and watched at Buffy slammed the door behind her and slumped against it. Slowly with her back against the door, she slid done until she was sitting. Her breath came out fast and ragged. Spike studied her, and without thinking walked quickly to her.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, concerned. Buffy looked up at him, her breath still ragged.
“I ran into a nest......and, and one of them.....they grabbed my stake, and broke into like tiny little splinters-there were at least ten of them.” Buffy’s breathing had slowed a little. Spike looked a little closer at her. It was then that he’d noticed several bruises on her body. He knelt beside her.
“Well, are you alright now?” Buffy nodded.
“Yeah. Do you have any extra stakes around.” Spike looked around the crypt. He was hopeful not to find anything- he wanted her to stay. His heart sank when his eyes fell upon the broken table. Reluctantly, he spoke.
“Yeah. Over there. The broken table. I’ll-I’ll get a good piece for you. I’ll do it quick. I guess you have to be on your way.” Buffy picked up on his tone. It sounded so broken hearted, and sad, that she just wanted to--wait.....*I don’t care how he feels.* She thought inwardly. Spike returned with a piece of wood with a sharp edge. Buffy stood and took the stake from him. She looked behind him at the table.
“What happened?” She asked, amused. Spike scratched the back of his neck and squirmed for an answer that wouldn’t send her off into thinking she needed to use that nice piece of wood on him. Buffy watched him squirm. Her eyes widened as realization struck. *He must’ve been frustrated because I-*
“Look I gotta go. Thanks for the stake.” Buffy turned around and walked towards the door when she felt a protesting hand take up her arm.
She turned around.
“Buffy-” Buffy shook off his hand.
“Spike I need to go.” With that, she was back out in the cool air of the cemetery.





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