“Come on, Angel doesn’t ever have to know,” Spike said, leaning across the desk and putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

Harmony responded with her sternest, most disapproving look. “No.”

“I’ll have it back before he even notices it’s gone.”

“I said no, Spike.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the chime of the elevator arriving. Spike turned his head to watch as Buffy stepped out into the reception area, his attempt to wheedle a car out of Harmony all but forgotten. Harmony, too, fell quiet, no doubt sensing the tension between them.

“Hi,” Buffy said, shifting uneasily under their stares. “I was just, uh, looking for Angel.”

“You’re still here,” Spike said flatly, his voice not betraying any emotion. Which was pretty easy to do, actually, since he wasn’t at all sure how he felt about it. He wanted to read it as a sign, that maybe she cared for him more than he’d allowed himself to believe, but he’d been down that road one too many times to give in to hope.

“Way to be rude, Spike,” Harmony scolded him.

“Angel asked me to stay a few days,” Buffy said.

Of course he did. Spike should’ve expected nothing less.

She hesitated. “Unless – do you want me to go? If you’d rather I –”

“Not at all." He didn’t know what he wanted. "Harmony was just about to give me the keys to the Viper –”

“I was not!”

“– so I’ll be out of your hair in no time. You and Angel have a nice – well. Not too nice, I suppose. Wouldn’t want that soul of his going on walkabout again.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, but she managed to bite back whatever snappy retort had come to mind. With an icy calm, she said, “I’m not here to have sex with Angel.”

Spike nodded sagely, as though this were a philosophical discussion in which he had no vested interest. “Probably for the best.”

“Don’t give me that. You know why I came, Spike.”

“Right, well, you’ve had your say. Popped me one in the nose for old time’s sake. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do elsewhere, so…” He sidestepped around her and headed for the elevator, but she was hot on his heels.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business.” He stepped into the waiting elevator and tried to press the “door close” button, but Buffy was too fast, planting herself in the way so that the doors jerked to a halt.

“Are you going to kill things?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I come?”

Spike sighed, resigned. “Fine. But I get to drive.”

*****

“I thought you had to get the keys from Harmony,” Buffy asked as they got off the elevator at the underground parking garage. She was starting to have second thoughts about asking to tag along when Spike so clearly didn’t want her around, but she wasn’t about to back out now.

Spike plucked a set of keys off the extensive rack hanging on the wall and headed out into the lot. “Nah. Angel’s just got a bee in his bonnet about me driving the Viper, so he has Harmony hide the keys. All the rest of ’em are fair game.”

“Wow.” Buffy halted in her tracks, taking in the fleet of cars in the garage. “These are all his?” She was starting to get why everyone was so suspicious of the deal Angel had made with Wolfram & Hart.

“One of the perks,” Spike replied, stopping in front of a red one. “How about the Charger?”

Buffy assumed that was the name of the car. “Fine. Do we need weapons?”

He pressed a button on the keyless entry remote, and the trunk popped open, revealing a stash of battle axes, swords, and crossbows. “Already fully stocked.”

“Handy.”

It wasn’t until Spike pulled out of the garage into the bright afternoon sunlight that it occurred to Buffy that the windows weren’t blacked out like they had been in Spike’s old car.

“Wait!” she cried. “You can’t…” She trailed off as she realized Spike wasn’t going up in flames. “How…?”

“Special glass,” he explained, tilting his face into the sunlight like a cat warming itself on the windowsill. “No combustion.”

She couldn’t help gazing over at him, so rarely had she seen him bathed in light like this. The sun danced across his pale face, accentuating the sharp planes and angles, bringing a sparkle to his eyes that seemed wholly at odds with the almost cruel indifference she felt from him. Her vision blurred, and the present image faded into the last time she’d seen him glowing with light. When he was burning up from the inside out.

She turned away from him suddenly, swallowing down the lump that had formed in her throat. She couldn’t manage any more small talk, so they drove in silence for a while, Buffy gazing out at the bustling city streets. She’d grown up in this city, and yet it seemed strange, foreign. She was no longer the girl who’d lived here, hadn’t been that girl for a long time. After Sunnydale was destroyed, Angel had asked her to stay in Los Angeles, but she’d opted for Europe instead, unable to stomach being an alien in her own hometown. If she was going to feel like a stranger, she might as well actually be in a foreign country.

Rome would probably never truly feel like home. But Dawn was there, and she had a squad of slayers to train, and if she closed her eyes, the Roman ruins had a comforting aura of death that reminded her of the crypts of Sunnydale.

When she couldn’t stand the cold shoulder from Spike any longer, she said, “Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot and I –”

“Oh, you think?” he replied, heavy with sarcasm. “You hauled off and punched me before I’d even gotten a word in.”

“I – I don’t know why I did that,” she admitted. “It wasn’t how I wanted this to go when I found out you were alive – well, okay, yeah, at first I wanted to punch you, but then I had the entire plane ride over here to think about it, and I planned out this whole rational speech thing, no violence whatsoever.”

Spike just raised an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off the road. “And then?”

“And then I got here and I… I don’t know.” She sighed. “Seeing you there, I got angry all over again. How could you not tell me?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Spike pulled up to what looked like an abandoned warehouse and parked in an alley where the long shadows of the surrounding buildings provided enough shade for him to safely get out of the car.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she snapped, slamming her car door shut with more force than necessary before circling around to meet him at the trunk. “You could’ve tried, ‘Hi, Buffy, turns out I’m not as dead as we thought.’”

“And after that? I was finished, Buffy.” He selected an axe and stood back to let her choose her weapon. She picked a crossbow and a quiver of wooden bolts. “You of all people ought to understand that.”

“I do! That’s why you should’ve come to me –”

“That’s not what I mean,” he interrupted, closing the trunk and starting toward the warehouse’s side entrance. “We were finished. Tearful goodbyes, flamey death, the end. I was happy with the way we ended. You thought I died a hero; that’s how you’d remember me.”

“So you couldn’t tell me you were alive because it would ruin the big finish? You asshole.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she stormed into the warehouse, slamming the door behind her.

She immediately felt childish for doing it, and it was a wasted effort anyway, since the door opened again a second later as Spike followed her inside.

“Good job,” he muttered. “Now they’ll be sure to know we’re here.”

In the heat of the argument, she’d almost forgotten that they were here to slay things. The warehouse was dark, save for a few faint rays of sunlight that filtered through the shoddily blacked-out windows, and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Tall stacks of wooden pallets, the goods shrink-wrapped so she couldn’t see what was on them, created a maze full of hiding places for things that lurked in the dark.

“Is this one of Angel’s cases?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Purely extracurricular.”

“What are we looking for?”

“Vampires.” His voice was low and gruff in her ear, his breath tickling her neck, and she shivered at how close he’d managed to get without making a sound. Yeah, that reaction was definitely about the vampire stealth thing, and not at all to do with the fact that if she leaned back just a fraction, she’d be pressed up against his chest.

Quickly, she took a step away from him. “How many?”

“Five, maybe six? Guess we’ll find out.”

They split up, each making their way down one of the corridors created by the shrink-wrapped walls of merchandise. Buffy brushed her fingers against one of the pallets and they came away coated with dust and grime.

She heard the sounds of a fight coming from the direction Spike had gone, a split second before she felt the weight of the vampire landing on her shoulders. The momentum knocked her to the ground, but she threw him off before he could pin her to the cement floor. She kipped to her feet, somewhat off balance from the crossbow and quiver slung across her back. Dropping them on the floor, she fell into a fighting stance. She ducked a punch, then grabbed the vampire and threw him against the pallets. The force of the impact caused that section of the makeshift wall to wobble precariously before toppling over, with the vampire at the bottom of the heap.

“Hey!” Spike exclaimed indignantly from just beyond the breach. “Watch it, Slayer!”

“Sorry,” she called back. It frustrated her that the wall separated her from Spike. They’d always fought best when they were together, side by side, so they could play off one another and cover each other’s backs. She’d slain plenty of vampires in Rome, but it wasn’t until now, when he was so close and yet still she was fighting alone, that she realized how much she missed slaying with him.

Another vampire lunged out of the darkness. She grabbed a makeshift stake from the broken pieces of pallet and staked him swiftly, only to be tackled from behind. The vampire she thought she’d buried was at her throat. His fangs scraped across her collarbone as she heaved him off and scrambled to her feet. The vampire came at her, and she backhanded him with her fist, still clutching the stake. With a grunt of effort, she managed to drive the stake home, and the vampire exploded into dust.

Slinging the crossbow and quiver over her shoulder, she scrambled up on top of the pallets to look for Spike. She spotted him one row over, driving a vampire back the way they’d come in. He’d lost his axe and was fighting hand to hand, noticeably favoring his left arm.

Loading up her crossbow and taking aim, she yelled, “Spike! Look out!” The crossbow bolt shattered the blacked-out window, putting the grappling vampires directly in the path of a broad ray of sunshine. Spike yelped and rolled out of the light, holding up his hands to shield his face, but the other vampire wasn’t quick enough and burst into flame.

Buffy climbed down from the pallet and headed over to where Spike was busy blowing on his singed hands. When he saw her approaching, he glared.

“Might wanna warn a fellow before you pull a stunt like that.”

She grinned. “I said, ‘Spike, look out.’ What more did you want?”

Instead of responding, he held up his hand in a “shh” gesture. Cocking his head to the side, he seemed to be listening to something, then started off toward the back of the warehouse. Confused, Buffy followed, her mouth forming a silent “oh” as they came upon a girl, bound and gagged on the floor, but still alive, despite the bite marks on her neck.

Before Buffy could move, Spike was already crouched next to the girl, working at the knotted ropes to free her. She started sobbing as soon as he removed the gag, and he slid one arm around her and pulled her to her feet, murmuring, “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

She stared at Buffy with terrified eyes, like she wasn’t quite convinced it was over, then looked back at Spike. “Thank you,” she said, her voice cracking.

Spike just nodded. “Best get on home while it’s still light out,” he told her, showing her the way to the exit. “And be careful.”

As soon as the girl was gone, Buffy turned to Spike. “You knew she was there.”

“Thought I heard a second heartbeat.”

“Why would they…?”

“Leftovers.” He scowled. She wondered what that meant to him, if it reminded him of something from his past, but when he spoke again, all he said was, “You’re bleeding.”

She touched her own neck, and her fingers came away stained red. “It’s fine.”

“Come on outside,” he said, escorting her toward the door. “These cars come equipped with first aid kits, too.”

He fished the kit out of the trunk and rummaged around for some gauze and surgical tape. “Here,” he said, turning back to her. “I can, um…” He hesitated, as though waiting for her permission.

“It’s okay.” She tilted her head to the side while he bandaged the wound with shaking hands. They’d been like that in Sunnydale, too. So cautious, those last few days, so chaste, so afraid of anything that reminded them of the previous year, and they’d wasted the only time they had left.

Or at least that’s what she’d thought, until she found out he wasn’t dead after all.

“I believed you, you know,” Buffy said quietly. Spike glanced up from his work, a questioning look on his face. “When you said you didn’t just want me because I was unattainable.”

He sighed. “Can we not do this now?”

“But as soon as you had me, you turned me away,” she went on, ignoring him. “You left me.”

“I didn’t leave, Buffy. I died.”

“Well, it didn’t stick. And now you’re back and… you don’t want me.”

They both looked up at the same time and their eyes met. Shame flickered across Spike’s face before he turned away from her, packing the bandaging materials back into the first aid kit. “I never said that. Said I don’t want you here. There’s a difference.”

“I thought you loved me.” She hated how fragile and pathetic she sounded, but she couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.

He stilled his motions, and his shoulders tensed beneath his coat, but he didn’t turn around to look at her.

“Is there any burn cream in there?” she asked, when his silence became too much for her to bear. “You should put something on those hands.”

“They’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’ve had worse done to ’em.” He tossed the first aid kit back into the trunk, but when he reached out to close the trunk with his left arm, he winced in pain and quickly switched to the other.

“What happened?” Buffy asked, concerned. Without asking permission, she gently ran her hands up his sleeve. Even through the leather, she could feel the bones out of place. “Spike, it’s broken.”

“Nothing we can do about it here. Fred can set it when we get back to the office.”

She was standing close to him, too close, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go. She glanced up to find him looking at her, his expression soft. “Spike…”

“You know I did,” he said quietly. “Still do.”

“But you didn’t want to be with me?”

He closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh before he opened them again. “It wouldn’t be fair to either of us,” he said. “What would I do? Seek you out, intrude on your new life, ask you to keep a promise you didn’t mean?”

She let him go, backed away and stared at him, the shock and the hurt rising up and forming a tight knot in her chest. “You really thought I didn’t love you.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, matter of fact, and his face pleaded such innocence that she knew he wasn’t saying it to hurt her. “Isn’t that what I told you? Right before the… you know.”

“I thought you were just being a jerk!”

“Buffy, it’s the bloody end of the world. You think I’m going to stand there and argue with you just to be contrary?”

She gave him a skeptical look. “You? Yeah.”

Spike rolled his eyes and snorted. “Fair enough.” He seemed to think that settled things, digging through his pockets for the car keys and handing them to her. “Think you’re gonna have to drive, pet.”

“Sure,” she replied absently, taking the keys from him. “Are you sure you trust me with this car?”

He shrugged. “It’s Angel’s. Do whatever you want to it.”

She got in the car and started it up as though she were on autopilot, her thoughts still back on their conversation. Once she’d pulled out of the alley and into the L.A. traffic, she glanced over at him.

“About what you said,” she started hesitantly. “I thought it was, I don’t know. You trying to be noble or something.”

“Noble,” Spike repeated. He sounded a little bit dubious.

“Yeah. I mean, I was – confused, okay? All that time you’d been telling me I loved you, and how we belong together, and then when I finally admit it, you’re all, ‘No, you don’t’? What was I supposed to think? I figured you were being self-sacrificing, refusing to accept it because you knew you were going to die.”

“That does make me sound noble.”

“Don’t mock me.” She glared at him, then remembered she ought to keep her eyes on the road. “It hurt. It hurt to think that you would throw that back in my face, when you knew how hard it was for me to say –”

She cut herself off with a shake of her head. “Forget it,” she said bitterly. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I never meant to hurt you. I just – wanted you to know I understood.”

“Understood what?”

He reached over and put a hand on her arm. “I’m sure it felt true at the time. Heat of the moment and all that. And I appreciated it, really I did. But I knew why you said it. I was dying, Buffy. You never thought I’d come ’round afterwards holding you to your word.” He shrugged. “That’s why I never told you I was back.”

Now she was shaking, and she shouldn’t be shaking this hard when she was driving a car, but her face felt like a thin shell masking a wall of tears, and she struggled valiantly against a complete breakdown.

“You still don’t believe me,” she breathed, just before the car crashed into the vehicle ahead of them.