Reunion


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“Well?” he asked his grandsire irritably, running a hand through his hair for about the millionth time since he’d heard of Buffy’s disappearance, “Anything?”

“The Rome office don’t know anything.”

“Did you try the Bit - Dawn?”

“If she knows anything, she’s not saying,” Angel answered with a slight hint of annoyance.

“I’m going to kill her!” he exclaimed, “I’m going to rip out her heart and eat it right in bloody front of her!”

“Spike, calm down.”

He glared at his grandsire but stopped pacing and flopped into Angel’s chair, putting his feet up on the desk even as Angel gave him a sour look.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Angel murmured, half to himself.

“If something could kill The bloody Immortal, it could finish her easy enough,” he answered grimly, hating himself for even voicing the thought. He ran his hand through his hair again.

“Stupid bloody woman,” he grumbled.

Angel stood at the window, looking out over the LA skyline.



They both looked up as there was a knock at the door and Angel turned towards the door.

“Come in,” he called.

Sinking back in Angel’s chair, not wanting to deal with one of the mindless Wolfram & Hart employees at a time like this, he swivelled the chair so that his back was to the door. He heard it open and close and rolled his eyes as the person stayed quiet. And then, her scent hit his nostrils and his eyes went wide. No, it couldn’t be. He swivelled round and froze.

Buffy stood there by the door, a tiny smile directed at his grandsire as she placed a bag down by her feet.

“Angel,” she got out calmly before turning those hazel eyes on him, “Spike.”

She’d known he would be here, he realised, as her gaze passed over him and back to Angel again. Somehow she had known and so she did not react in any of the million ways he might have imagined. She was cool as anything, only her thundering heartbeat betraying her nervousness. But that might have been Angel’s presence as much as anything else.

“Buffy,” Angel finally got out, taking a step towards her, “Are you okay? Everyone in Rome’s looking for you.”

“Your guy out of the hospital then?” she asked with a smile and he was pleased to see his grandsire look embarrassed.

“Next time, get someone a little less obvious,” she remarked, her gaze moving around the room. She kept darting looks at him but would not meet his eyes.



There was awkward silence in the room and he saw Buffy twisting her fingers together. He was just surprised she hadn’t broken anything yet, with all the tension in her. She moved to the sofa and perched on it delicately, her gaze sweeping over him and landing on Angel again. Angel threw him a worried look and then turned his attention back to Buffy again.

“I heard about The Immortal,” Angel said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Buffy’s reaction was the last one he would have expected: she burst out laughing. It was a bitter, almost hysterical laugh and it sent a shiver through him. When she had got herself under control, she raised those bright eyes again and gave them a twisted smile.

“You should be congratulating me. I’m the one that killed him.”

He reeled with shock and turned fully to face her, studying the lines of her face.

“You killed him?” Angel asked, throwing another worried look at him.

“Yeah. Set fire to him while he slept.”

The first thing he thought of was Dawn’s threat to do the same to him. His second thought was of how cold his girl had grown cold of late. Callous, even. She had always hardened her heart against the successors to her precious Angel, but even with him, he didn’t think she would have been capable of such cruelty.

“But you were…” Angel choked out.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I sent a boyfriend to hell,” she commented lightly, flashing that twisted smile again as she shrugged.

“But it’s okay anyway. He wasn’t my boyfriend.”



They both turned wide eyes on her then as she smiled somewhat sadly.

“He wasn’t?” Angel asked, a little too hopefully for his own liking. He hoped the Poof didn’t think he had a chance again.

“No,” she answered, all-Slayer now, “I was… well, undercover, I guess. I had some information to get from Claudio.”

He couldn’t even begin to describe how good it felt to know that Buffy hadn’t really been with The Immoral. She didn’t look much happier than if she had been though: looking closer, he saw how thin she had gotten, how sunken her eyes were. His girl really hadn’t been looking after herself. She sighed, drawing his attention back to her, and brushed a hand through her hair- which he only just realised had grown long again, as it had loved it.

“Things went a bit wrong though,” she continued, “Giles is going to kill me when he finds out I killed Claudio without having everything we wanted.”

She gave a tiny smile and then her shoulders sagged, her eyes flitting over him.

“Oh, well, it’s done now.”

She was silent for a long time and then Angel spoke up, breaking the silence.

“You’re probably exhausted. Why don’t I show you one of the rooms and you can get some rest?”



Buffy raised her head and gave Angel a soft smile.

“That’d be… really great. It’s been, well, an emotional few days,” she added, her eyes just flicking to him and then back to Angel again. Angel smiled and she rose to her feet, picking up her discarded bag.

“Have you got a suitcase or anything else?”

“No, this is it. It’s, err… I don’t plan on staying long.”

So, his time with her was limited. He had to find some time alone with her before she ran out on him. To see if there was any chance she might still care, even if it seemed too much to hope. This Buffy that stood before him now was so very changed: so much older, it seemed, than the girl he had known in Sunnydale. In the space of six months, she had aged more than a year, her eyes even duller than he had seen them in a long time. Clearly, the freedom she had gained after the spell hadn’t eased her burden at all.

She and Angel were at the door before he could really process it and he rose uncertainly to his feet, watching helplessly as Angel opened the door and preceded her. He looked to the floor with a sigh – but he heard her pause and he looked up to find her, finally, meeting his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re back, Spike,” she murmured quietly, “You look… you look good.”

The next instant, she was gone, closing the door behind her. But in that split second that she had held his gaze, he had seen everything: her anger, her disappointment, her sadness. She had known he was alive and that he had hidden it from her – and now, he felt he could understand her behaviour of the last few minutes. She had been avoiding looking at him to control her temper, her emotions (something she had always struggled with). With a sigh, he dropped into Angel’s chair again and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a smoke – or three – and then he needed to speak to Buffy. Alone.