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[ Buffy doesn't think about those things, because it hurts too much to remember those days and know that this Spike hates her. Even if he doesn't really, he thinks he does, and he isn't the Spike she fell in love with. Not yet. He just... could be.

The room isn't different from any of the others, save for the few tiny personal touches she's made to it. A light blue blanket draped across the end of the bed. The beaded necklaces she'd recently acquired hanging from the lamp on the desk, a few papers from work carefully stacked beneath them. She walks inside and sets the glasses on the desk beside those papers before turning to Spike, crossing her arms awkwardly for lack of anything else to do with them. ]

Well, this is it. Nothing special. [ Nothing like what she used to have. ]

Right. Better than what they set me up in.

[Still, he looks around, moving over to go run his fingers over the beads dangling from the lamp. She never changed. Not really. Always that steel cord running through her wrapped up in lace and pink. She looked like she'd fall over in a storm, but he knew better.

Holding up the bottle, he gestured at the glasses.]

Shall I?

[ It's been hard to stay strong without any of her anchors to keep her standing. First she'd lost Dawn, Giles, her friends, their emotional ties effectively mangled by that one night back in Sunnydale. Yes, she'd still fought to keep them safe, she would always do that given the chance, but... Things will never be the same between them. And then Spike. She'd lost him completely, finally, and now here he was, Spike but not her Spike, and she tries not to let it break her even further. ]

Please.

[ She hesitates for a moment, then takes a seat on the edge of the bed, the only other spot the chair at the desk. Whichever he decides to take is fine with her, and she'll try not to openly admit that she'd prefer he be next to her. Because she shouldn't want that, not with him not having lived through those months yet, but when did her heart ever do what she told it to. ]

[He went to grab the drinks, taking them over to sit not far from her on the bed. Not because he wanted to be closer -- well, not entirely, but because it was easier to hand her one of the glasses caught in his fingers, easier to pour them both a drink when they were both there. Easier to set the bottle down on the little night table and lift his glass to her.]

Here's to... the crazy never stopping.

[ She watches his hands the entire time, noticing the chipped paint but not thinking anything of it other than it being a sign of typical Spike. When he's set aside the bottle, she lifts her glass to gently tap against his. ]

We'd be bored without it.

[ There's a grin, because it's so true it's a little pathetic, and then she takes a sip of the drink--

and promptly makes a face. It's stronger than what she'd had at the bar a few days earlier with him, and her expression is nothing compared to what it had been the night she'd gotten drunk in his crypt (and around town), but it's still something akin to a grimace. Give it another few sips and she'll get used to it. ]

Bloody right.

[He watched her drink first, laughing when he got the look he'd been expecting, then downing a healthy swallow out of his own glass.]

Need to build up your tolerance, Slayer. Be a bit of an irony if it's Jack Daniels that takes you down when no other could.

I guess you'll just have to drink with me more often then.

[ It's slipped into the conversation almost as an aside rather than the hopeful invitation it is. It would be nice if they continued to meet like this, for drinks or sparring or... anything, really. A few years ago, she would have looked at herself and been appalled at how she was wishing so desperately to spend time with any man, let alone Spike, but the last few months really had changed everything for her.

It's not pathetic to want to be with the person you love, even when they don't love you back. It's just... a little sad, that's all. ]

[Give him time, Buffy. He was slowly getting there. He hadn't had the same amount of years to get used to it as her. Things might develop differently here if she wasn't constantly telling him to back off.

Still, the words got him to raise both brows, the nicked one closest to her as he gave her a look.]

That another invitation? Careful, Goldilocks. I might start to think you like having me around.

[ Time is something she has in spades now that there aren't a dozen things trying to kill her on a daily basis, or an annual impending apocalypse trying to destroy the world. She'll wait however long she has to if it means even a chance at having him back in her life.

She smiles over at him with amusement and affection practically beaming from her expression. ] Well, we wouldn't want that.

[ It's clear that she's teasing, being nothing more than playful, or... at least, she hopes it's clear. Taking another sip of her drink, she's quiet for a moment before turning a bit to face him more fully. ] Will you tell me something? Anything, about your life here.

Tell you what? I haven't been here that long -- few months at most.

[Still, he may have things to tell. Not all of them things he wanted to share with her. It felt... wrong. Personal. A bit like he'd done something he shouldn't have, but he didn't exactly regret it. It was... complicated.]

That's longer than me.

[ It doesn't matter what he tells her, so long as it doesn't involve murder she (probably) won't judge him for it. Her days of judging people for all sorts of indiscretions went right out the window when she started accumulating a list of her own. ]

But I don't know. I guess... Do you have friends here? What do you do for fun?

[ And wow does she sound lame. And desperate. Lamely desperate and desperately lame. Good job, Buffy. ]

Got... dunno. Couple blokes I hang around with. One's older than the Master. Immortal, apparently. In that real way you don't actually see. Other's an older fellow. Ex assassin, if I had to guess. Nice enough. Has good taste in whiskey and doesn't mind sharing.

[He wondered for a moment if she was trying to subtly ask if there were other women in his life here. Any Harmonys or Drus to keep him company.]

Do what I normally do, though... I got work now. Funny thing, they seem to like handing out jobs here.

[ There hadn't been any conscious thought of other women in his life, but... maybe it was there, buried under everything else. She doesn't have a right to be jealous, she should be happy if he has someone here. He doesn't mention anyone, though, and she's a little glad for it. ]

It seems a little too good to be true, all of this. [ Quietly, she adds while looking down into her glass-- ] I want it all to be true.

[ She clears her throat and turns her attention back to him. ] I'm glad you have friends here, Spike.

Too good to be true? Some magical reality pulling people in who feel out of place? I'd think you'd be a bit squirrelly about that. Leaving all those you love behind. You may run off now and then, Pet, but you always come back.

[He realized how that may have sounded, clearing his throat before he took another sip.]

Go back. To them, I mean.

It's not that simple anymore.

[ If she sounds heartbroken, it's because she is. When she'd first arrived in this place, she'd been under the impression that she didn't really have anyone to go back to, not anyone who couldn't manage well enough without her. ]

There's only one person I'd want to go back to, and you're sitting right here.

[His hand flexed, fingers spasming open and he almost dropped the glass. He recovered, but it was visible that he'd done so, clearing his throat again and reaching for the bottle, as if that would somehow erase what had just happened.]

I'm not going to get used to that. I'm- too used to you hating me. Or thinking nothing of me at all, other than some neutered stray you can't quite take to the pound.

[ If there's anything about this that makes her feel guilty, it's that. His reaction makes her chest tighten and her heart ache, because she doesn't want to do this to him but she can't not. ]

I understand, believe me I do. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't believe any of this. But I'm not lying to you, Spike, and I don't-- I'm not expecting anything from you. I just miss having you in my life.

I'm sorry if that's selfish of me.

But you are. You might not want to say it out loud, but you are. Expecting something from me. I can see it, you know. I don't know exactly what it is, but if what you said before is true... for you... then you expect something in me to recognize it. You want something.

[He refilled his glass, looking down at it because it was a hell of a lot easier than looking at her. Then he drank it, the whole thing, in a few burning swallows before he moved to refill it.]

Love is selfish. It's supposed to be.

[ He's not wrong about this either. She hates herself for it, that she's putting him in this position. He doesn't deserve to have her just waltz into the life he's made here and turn it all upside down. Downing the rest of her glass, she wraps both her hands around it and leans forward to set her arms on her legs. ]

You're right, and I'm sorry. You don't deserve to have me following after you hoping you'll remember something you don't actually feel.

[ Buffy refuses to cry, but there's more than a little choked-back emotion in her voice. She also refuses to look at him, because then he'd see just how much she's hurting. ]

I'm sorry, Spike.

I wasn't complaining.

[It was said softly. Quietly. A hush of a whisper before he turned to look at her trying so hard not to look at him.]

I wish I knew what you knew. I wish I could remember what I'd felt beyond the muddy memories from the portal mix up. I know I felt something, but I think I had my soul then. Everything just bloody well hurt.

[ He wasn't-- Then what was he doing. What were either of them doing. Just dancing around if and maybes and what might be but not what is. She needs to focus on that, on where he is rather than where she'd like him to be, because this isn't helping either of them. ]

It hurt when you first got it back. You had a hard time dealing with it, and the First didn't help.

Something was off here. Might have been that. I got in a bit of trouble here and some of that was because I just wasn't all there in my head. Had to be babysat for a bit. Not exactly my finer point.

[He sighed, then took another drink. Slowly, he asked her:]

Was I like him? Anything like... Angel? Was I so different?

[She had to know what he meant. Angelus versus Angel were two completely different people in one body. Was he so different from himself with his soul?]

[ His question makes her go still, and she really thinks on her answer before even trying to articulate anything. He deserves the truth about all of this, and she doesn't want it to seem like she's keeping anything from him simply by misspeaking. ]

You weren't like Angel. [ Taking a deep breath, she sits up properly and finally looks at him again. ] When Angel didn't have a soul, he was cruel, but you never were, not needlessly. When he had his soul, Angel was fueled by his remorse for everything he'd done as a vampire. You felt remorse, but... that wasn't why you got your soul back. It wasn't what kept you going everyday.

What was?

[He asked it, even though he had a niggling feeling he knew the answer already. It was the same thing that had always kept him going -- back when he was alive, after he'd turned, what had kept him close to madness for so bloody long.]

Love.

[ Four letters, a single word, and yet she can barely manage to say it. It's a whisper that's more like a breath, and she immediately shifts after she's said it, as if trying to shake off the feel of it. ]

At least, that would be my guess. We never... We didn't get to talk about it much before... everything.

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