Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belonging to the show are not of my creation. I take no credit, and I make no money.

Author’s Notes: Thank you again to Slaymesoftly, who is a wonderful beta and has helped me improve my writing style a great deal. Also, much thanks to all my wonderful readers and reviewers.
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Spike was afraid. In fact, Spike was terrified.

There were very few things that could terrify the Big Bad, but the telephone sitting in front of him happened to be one of them.

The Vampire had been solid, corporeal for days. What he hadn’t been was at all sure about his next step. His every instinct screamed to pick up the phone, call Buffy, or just get on a ship and go find her.

Still, he couldn’t pick up the phone. Why trust his instincts when he had been told he might not be able to trust his memories?

His memories told him that he had spent a glorious week with Buffy, in some sort of re-make of Sunnydale. They had showered one another with the fullest extent of their love, confessed every feeling, every deed…they had made their own paradise. The love they had experienced and shown one another was the greatest of Spike’s dreams.

But that was just it. What if it was only a dream? What if it had been only a delusion created by the amulet he had been trapped inside to keep him cozy?

It had been exactly what he needed to see. It was everything that he had ever wanted, and suddenly it all seemed far too easy and too good to be true.

Alright, time to think. What if he went through with it? What if he picked up the phone like he had planned since popping up in Angel’s office? He knew for certain that one of two things would happen:

The Slayer would also remember everything that had transpired between them in not-Sunnydale, be beyond thrilled to hear from him, confess her love yet again, and the two would walk arm and arm to whatever home she chose. They would see the world together, just as Buffy had said she wanted. Spike would get to make his peace with Dawn, and he would take both of them to every place he had ever been, and show them everything he had ever seen.

Or.

He would call and find out that none of it had been real. All his dreams would be shattered as he talked to a reluctant Buffy who was vaguely happy to hear that he was alive and well. He would end up intruding on her life, trying to recreate the dream that had given him more happiness than anything ever could.

Spike pulled away from the table, gaining more distance from the phone as he realized the truth. If he had to find out that what he’d experienced wasn’t real, it would break him. He would be reduced to a babbling mess, similar to what he had been right after he’d gotten the soul. There would be nothing left for him, no more hope.

If he called, his heart could possibly be shattered. If he remained in Los Angeles, there was a chance that he could hold on, and still believe it was real. He had to believe it was real.

With a dejected sigh, Spike stood. He couldn’t believe that he was even considering the coward’s way out.

Slipping on his duster and patting it down for his lighter, he headed out the door of the office that he’d ‘borrowed’. He desperately needed to kill something.

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Buffy had been left in their little apartment to finish packing up. They were moving again. They’d been to places in the world that the Slayer hadn’t even allowed herself to dream of seeing. They had album on top of album, to the point where she was sure they would need another bedroom just to fit it all. She was just packing the last of them, finally coming to a black leather photo album.

She smiled, having been purposely saving that one for last.

Thumbing through it, she realized that it was almost full. They had done so many things, been to so many places…Buffy had chosen only the pictures that she knew Spike would have enjoyed most, a sparse few out of the whole group, and it was still enough to almost fill the album.

She reached the back of the photo album and traced Spike’s name with her fingertip. It still always saddened her; that she had no real reminders except marks he’d left on her body, and little things that she created.

“It does get a little easier…” she whispered softly to the name she traced with her fingertips. “But still, I just wish-“

The door opening interrupted her musing. She discreetly slipped the album into the box, closing it to keep it out of site. When she turned around, she was greeted by Xander, with a wry grin on his face giving her a small wave.

“Hey!” Buffy hopped over a box, overbalancing and tumbling into her friend’s arms.

Their embrace was firm, obviously an attempt to make up for weeks of no contact.

“When did you get here?” she asked.

“Just last night…”

When the hug ended, Buffy set about moving boxes off of what little furniture was left to provide a place to sit. “So what’s the big news? What did you need to talk about?”

“Well, I was going to wait until the others were around to hear, but…” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I met someone.”

Buffy frowned, turning to face him again. “You what?”

“I…you know…met someone.”

“Someone…?” Her eyes widened a bit. “Oh. Someone. As in…someone someone?”

He nodded. “I’m kind of hoping…”

The Slayer was a bit confused, but she tried not to let it show. “Well, that’s…great. Really, that’s great for you. I mean, I sort of thought your trip was for mourning, not so much dating…”

Sighing, Xander sat down heavily on the arm of the couch. “It just happened, Buff…I’m not entirely sure how it did, but it did. And you know what? I’m glad it did. No more moping for the Xan Man.”

“Right…” Buffy nodded. “No more moping.”

She turned back to her boxes; awkwardly rearranging the inside of one to make things that fit fine fit better.

Clasping his hands together, Xander peered around the cluttered apartment. “So what about the Buffster? I noticed you’re still moping.”

“Hey!” She huffed indignantly. “I am not moping. Have you seen all the vacationing we’ve been doing? SO not moping here!”

“Yeah, but…I noticed you haven’t really…met someone.”

The Slayer sighed wearily. “And when have I ever really had time for that?”

Xander adjusted his eye patch, something that seemed to become a nervous habit for him. “Look, Buffy…I don’t know what went on between you and bleach boy…I’m not going to pretend to know or understand how you felt-“

“I loved him.”

The words were the first she had spoken without any hesitance. Her voice was almost hard, and she was looking him straight in the eye. It was the first time Xander had ever really heard those words from her, regarding Spike, and he had to swallow back a sarcastic retort.

“Alright…you loved him.” He nodded, avoiding her gaze. “It’s…weird, on many levels…but, ok.

Buffy finally took a seat across from her friend, the two sitting in awkward silence as they studied only their hands.

“So…what now?” Xander finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…you loved him. I get it. So, what now?”

She sighed in exasperation. “Look, I’m just not sure-“

“Do you think Anya would want me to move on?”

The question immediately threw her off balance. “I…Xander, of course she –“

“I’m talking about honestly.” Xander smiled wryly.

“I don’t understand…”

“Come on, Buff…no one wants to think about the one they love moving on. No one really wants to think that they’ve been forgotten, or that the other person could live and find happiness without them…but the thing is, Anya’s the only person I know that would have actually said it.”

There was a warmth and affection in Xander’s voice that brought the Slayer to silence. She quietly watched Xander as he struggled with his emotions. There was just a hint of tears, but none that actually fell.

“I love Anya,” he finally spoke again. “I do. She was the most honest person I had ever met – I don’t think she really knew how to be otherwise. She had been around for a thousand years, but sometimes she just seemed so innocent, you know? And there was no ‘mystery of women’ problems…I mean, yeah, a lot of times I didn’t get her…but she at least always let me knew when I did something wrong, or how to make her feel good. That’s something I’m really going to miss, especially when starting all over again.”

Buffy wasn’t sure what to say. She laced her fingers together; her gaze settling on what little remained of the burn scars between the fingers of one hand.

“But this isn’t about Anya.” Xander decided to continue, once he realized his friend wasn’t going to join in. “This is about me. I’m the one that’s still here, the one that’s alone every night. I’m the one that still has to live every day.” He tried to catch his friend’s gaze. “And so do you, Buff.”

She looked up at him with vulnerable eyes that were wide and watery. “I am living…things are good, and –“

“You’re living alone, Buffy. You’re making sure that you live alone.” He shook his head. “Look, I’m not saying you’ve got to go out and pick some guy up. It’s just…” He noticed the closed-off expression his friend had on her face, and nodded. “It’s none of my business. I know that.”

He stood and wrapped his arms around her in a supportive hug, before turning and navigating his way back to the door. “Look, I’m going to go see Willow before she takes off with Kennedy. We’ll talk more tonight, cool?”

The Slayer managed a small smile and nodded. She didn’t bother looking up from her clasped hands, even after she heard the door close and could no longer hear his footsteps.