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Spike closed his eyes, fearing for his newly-regained life. The only thing that kept him from panicking was that he had come to the conclusion that the Powers that Be wouldn't have gone through all that trouble to restore his life only to kill him again within forty-eight hours. Still, he held on for dear life.

When the danger finally passed, Spike let out a deep breath, muttering a thank you to any god who may have been listening at the moment that he'd made it out of that alive.

"I don't think I'm in this parking space right. Do you think I should…"

"No!" Spike yelled, white with fear at the mere mention of Buffy restarting the car's ignition. "We're good!"

"But…"

"We're fine. Just please, give me the keys and get out of the car."

Buffy frowned. "Why do I have to give you the keys?"

"Because I'm driving home."

"You can't! You don't have a license. I do. Well, an Italian license anyway. Do those still count here?"

"Buffy, I've been driving without a license since before you were even born."

"Yes, but now you can't just eat the cop if you get pulled over."

"So I'll have to rely on my good looks alone. And possibly get one of the license things. You think they give them out to former vampires?"

"We'd have to get you a new identity," Buffy replied. She stared forward, out the windshield. "Would it be a California one?"

"California what? Identity? I think the accent might blow that cover."

"No. I meant the license."

"Oh. I…I don't know. Probably."

Buffy handed him the keys, her eyes not meeting his. "Here. Let's go inside."

"Are you all right, luv?"

"I'm fine," Buffy said, looking at him again and giving a slightly too cheery smile. "You have the keys. I'm not driving anymore. Let's get something to eat." Before Spike could respond, Buffy opened the car door and stepped out, slamming the door behind her. She frowned at her parking job, but didn't say anything about it. When she heard Spike shut the door on his side, she looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the bright morning sun. "Hit the lock button twice."

"Huh?"

"The thing on the keychain—with the buttons. Point it towards the car and press the one with the closed padlock twice."

Spike did what she said and heard the locks of the car click, followed by the horn sounding once. "Bit more high-tech than the DeSoto," he said. "She didn't even have automatic locks. I guess those cars I kept 'liberating' from Peaches could do that, but I never could figure out all the gadgets on those things."

"Whatever happened to the DeSoto anyway?" Buffy asked.

"It's still too painful to talk about," Spike replied. "So are we going in or not?"

"We're going." Buffy started towards the restaurant, only to realize that Spike had stopped walking after only a couple of steps. She turned sharply. "What are you doing?"

"The parking lot back at the hospital was covered. I didn't even think about it."

"Think about what?" Buffy asked. Spike pointed up towards the sun. "Oh," Buffy replied, providing the answer to her own question. "You're basking in the non-flammable UV goodness."

Spike looked down at the ground, a boyish grin on his face. "Look, my shadow. Haven't seen much of him lately."

"Well, there was that time you had the Gem of Amara…"

"Yeah, until somebody had to go and steal it."

"Hey! You were trying to kill me."

"Oh, like you weren't having just as much fun as I was."

"I was not! I was…" Buffy stopped in mid-sentence, laughing at the expression on Spike's face that clearly said "yeah, right." "Okay, fine. Maybe a little. I always did enjoy fighting you more than anyone else."

"Mutual, pet."

Buffy moved closer to him, stopping with only about a foot between them. Spike reached up, running his fingers through the front of her hair. "There was one thing I never forgot about that day," he said.

"What was that?" Buffy asked, her voice trembling right along with her knees.

"How beautiful you are in the sunlight." Spike leaned in, and Buffy felt her breath catch as his lips almost touched hers. Suddenly, he pulled away. "So, breakfast? Been sort of wasting my human taste buds on that hospital food."

"Right. Breakfast it is," Buffy said, not sure if what she was feeling was relief or disappointment. She followed Spike into the restaurant, neither of them stopping again until they were inside.

*** *** ***

"Do you want a little coffee with that sugar?"

Spike gave Buffy a dirty look as he ripped open another sugar packet and dumped it into the mug. "Over a century of dulled taste buds, Slayer. Bitter and I are not friends right now."

"I wonder if you'll have the same problem with spicy. You maybe have to give up the chicken wings."

Spike's expression switched to one of horror. "If that's the case, then I'm getting myself re-vamped, no questions asked. Life just wouldn't be worth it without the spicy Buffalo wings."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You're pathetic—you know that, don't you?"

"It's not my fault that you can't appreciate fine chicken wings," Spike replied.

"And you're a little insane, too."

"You're here with me. What does that say about you?" Buffy responded to his question by sticking out her tongue, to which Spike replied with a chuckle, "No advertising unless you plan to use it, kitten."

Buffy blushed a deep red, suddenly finding the inside of her coffee mug very interesting. "Saying things like that to throw me off is cheating, you know."

"Yeah, but it's fun, too."

Buffy looked up slightly, giving him a smirk. "Evil."

Spike ran his tongue along his teeth. "Always, baby."

For a moment, their eyes met, and Buffy felt a shiver run up her spine. She hadn't seen this man in over a year, and yet he still had the power to affect her with just a look. And that thing he did with his tongue… Buffy wasn't sure if she hated it or loved it. She was the first to break eye contact, turning back to her coffee.

"Are you examining that coffee for demonic activity?" Spike asked after a moment.

Buffy's head shot up. "Huh? No, I just… No."

Spike ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry if I made things awkward. Wasn't going for that. I'm just so used to the banter with us, I guess I forgot for a moment that things are different now."

"What is this?"

"What's what, Slayer?"

"This," Buffy said, gesturing in front of her. "What we're doing here."

"Uh, I could be completely wrong, but I thought this was us having breakfast."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"It's what you asked."

"Would you stop being all avoid-o guy? You keep getting all flirty, like in the parking lot with the hair touching and the comment about how beautiful I am in the sunlight, and…and then just now with that damn tongue thing! But then you go all cold, and you tell me that things are 'different.' What's going on in that bleached head of yours, huh?"

"I don't know! I see you, and god, you're so beautiful it makes me ache. I really never thought I'd see you again, but here you are, so close I can reach out and touch you. But I can't. Things are different, Buffy. We're different. A lot has changed in a year, and we can't pretend like it hasn't and pick up where we left off. I don't think I even want to. What is there for us anyway but to go our separate ways?"

Spike's words made Buffy feel cold. What had he meant by that last part? "Do…do you not want to be a part of my life anymore?"

"Where would I fit in? It's not like you need me to scratch your itches now. Got yourself a new bloke for that."

"You were more than just an 'itch-scratcher,' Spike. You know that."

"Do I?"

"Dammit, how could you not?" Buffy asked, starting to get angry. "I told you as much in the Hellmouth before you had to go and try to tell me what I was feeling!"

"Is that what you feel now? Do you love me?"

Buffy was silent for a moment before she finally said, "I don't know."

"That's what I thought. You don't need me in your life anymore. You don't even need me fighting by your side anymore. You have a whole army for that." Spike looked down at his hands. "I don't think I even could anymore. I'm probably as useless as Xander in a fight now."

"You mean more to me than just another fighter by my side, too. You…you understand me, Spike. Better than anyone ever has—probably better than anyone ever will. You've always had a way of looking at me and just knowing, of telling me truths about myself that even I haven't realized yet. I've always been able to hide myself from everyone, Spike—even from me. But not from you. Never from you."

Spike looked at her, his head tilted slightly as he regarded her so intently for a moment that Buffy grew nervous. Finally he spoke, "But where does that leave us? You call me up every now and then when you can't figure yourself out?"

Buffy started sliding out of the booth then, anger clearly written on her face. Spike reached out and grabbed her hand before she could leave. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"The bathroom," Buffy snapped.

"Don't run off like this."

Buffy snatched her hand away. "Don't tell me what to do."

Spike pulled away, letting her go. "Fine."

Buffy let her expression remain angry until she was safely alone in the bathroom. It was then that her face fell, and the tears that she'd been holding back came to the surface. She didn't want to admit it, but Spike was right. She couldn't expect him to fall back into how things were before with him centering himself around his love for her, be it requited or not. He had a life now—a real life­—in Los Angeles, and she'd started to put down roots in Italy. And of course there was the issue that they'd both skated around—she was currently involved with someone else. She couldn't rightfully expect him to want to throw away whatever it was he had for him here just to be what to her: An ally? A friend?

He hadn't even bothered to call her when he'd been brought back. Clearly, there was something here that he'd rather be doing than going back to her. She could understand that, respect that—but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

She'd long since begun to take Spike's love for her for granted. He was the one constant male figure in her life, the one who did not waiver, even when she tried to push him away. Even when she'd told him to move on, Buffy had secretly coveted the belief that he never would.

But he had. He'd moved on and left her behind. She knew it wasn't fair of her to expect anything else, and that she had to accept things as they were. She had to be mature about it, give Spike what he wanted, even if that meant she had to let go. She wiped her eyes, steeling herself again before she went back to the table.

The food had already arrived, but Spike hadn't started eating. He was frowning, and when Buffy sat down again, she could practically feel the nervousness rolling off of him. She forced a smile to her lips. "You didn't have to wait for me, you know."

"I know, I just… Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, we were sort of arguing, and then you took off, and I thought…"

"Nope, we're good. Things got a little heavy, and I needed a moment, that's all."

"So you're not cross with me?"

"Nope. Are we going to eat or not?"

Spike was still frowning as they began their breakfast, but decided not to press things. Instead he allowed Buffy to make idle chat with him throughout the meal, pretending that nothing had gone on before.

*** *** ***

As they walked out of the restaurant, Spike looked over at Buffy and felt a sudden grip of panic. There was nothing to keep her here. She'd be going back to Italy soon, possibly with the next twenty-four hours. After that, he might not ever see her again. He needed something—just a day, even if it turned out to be a day to say good-bye. "Buffy?"

Buffy stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

"Can we maybe not go back to the hotel yet? I want to stay out for a little while. This…this could be the last day."

"The last day for what?"

"Me being human," Spike said quickly, mentally kicking himself for coming that close to telling her what was really on his mind.

"Why do you say that?" Buffy asked with a frown.

"We have no way of knowing if this is permanent. Tomorrow I could wake up dead—again. If that is the case, well, I'd rather remember spending this day in the sunlight than cooped up in Angel's hotel answering a million questions."

Buffy thought for a moment. She'd have to go back to Italy soon, back to her new life. What if this was the last chance she ever had to spend time with Spike? "All right. Day out in the sunlight it is."

Spike grinned, feeling a bit of relief. "Let's get going then. Don't want to waste any of the day."

Buffy followed him to the car. She didn't want to waste any of it either.

*** *** ***

I got a few complaints on the last chapter about the lack of Spuffy interaction. I'm asking you as a writer to please, please, please let me move this story at my own pace. There will be plenty of scenes between Spike and Buffy—as this chapter demonstrates—but I'm not going to sacrifice the narrative for the sake of Spuffy scenes. This story has a plot. It must be advanced. In order for this to happen, I must have exposition, some of which involves characters other than Spike and Buffy. It is imperative to the narrative that I develop certain points thoroughly, otherwise the story will fall apart. So be patient! This story is Spike/Buffy, and they will be the central characters—you just have to let me develop the rest of the story, too. Thanks!

And of course, reviews would be lovely.





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