Author’s Note: First of all, I’m really, really, really, sorry to have left you guys at that chapter. I really didn’t mean to, and this time I can’t say it was my computer’s fault. This time it’s all my fault. I’m sorry! It’s just that my stepsister has been hanging around my computer and I didn’t have any time to write at peace.

Now, apologies aside, I have finally written the next chapter. It’s not as heart wrenching as the other, I promise. The song in this chapter is Peter Gabriel’s "I grieve" from the City of Angels OST. I heard the song when EosReia made a music video for it and I got completely hooked (You guys should really watch that vid, by the way). Anyway, if you’ve d/l the song you may read, if not… well you can read it too but it won’t have the same effect, so. Your choice! ;)

"Buffy! I’m home!" Dawn’s voice echoed through the entire house as she climbed up the stairs taking two steps at a time. "Buffy!" she called out again as she knocked at door to her sister’s room before stepping in.

She found her scrambling to close her wardrobe, before turning around to face her.

"Hey, you’re home early." Buffy forced a weak smile as she nervously brushed her hair out of her eyes with a trembling hand.

"Buffy? Are you ok? Why are you crying?" the younger girl asked concerned as she closed the distance between the two.

"Me? I’m not crying." And yet another ghost of a smile plagued her swollen lips as she walked past her sister into the bathroom.

"I know you, you’re crying. What happened?" Dawn continued to question as she watched her sister frantically wash her face off.

"Nothing happen. I’m fine."

Buffy drowned her face into another handful of clear water.

"You’re not fi-"

"Look! I told you I’m fine, just stop grilling me about this!" the second the harsh words left her mouth she regretted them. Looking into her sister’s huge and soulful eyes she added in a softer and quieter tone: "I’m sorry, Dawn! I’m just tired I guess."

"It’s about Spike, isn’t it?"

Buffy immediately looked up from the towel she was drying her face with.

"What about Spike?"

"I know what happen. Willow told me." Dawn said with an understanding tone.

"What? What did Willow tell you?" Buffy closed the distance between them, the towel on the floor, instantly forgotten.

"He had to lose his soul in order to save Anya and Clem."

"Oh, right…" Buffy trailed off walking back to her room.

"Come on, it’s no reason for you to be like this." Dawn tried to help, but her sister seemed impervious to her words as she began to pick up the clothes scattered across the room. "I mean it’s still same old Spike, right? Soul or no soul."

Without a word, Buffy continued out the door and down the stairs straight to the basement while Dawn followed her close behind, desperately trying to get through to her sister.

"If you want I can go by his crypt and…"

"NO!"

Well, that did the trick, suddenly she had her sister’s undivided attention.

"Don’t! I don’t want you going over there."

"Why n…" Suddenly it hit her, there was something wrong with this picture. Something very wrong… Maybe…"Buffy, did something happen to Spike?"

"What?" Buffy tried to sound casual, but failed miserably at it. "No, nothing happen to him."

"Buffy, I know you, something happen. Tell me!" a hint of desperation crept in her voice.

"Nothing happen, Dawn." Buffy sighed and said nonchalantly. "It’s just that… We had a fight, that’s all."

She could immediately see the relief in her young sister’s face.

"Thank God! For a minute there I thought… well… you know." Dawn tilted her head as she tried to find a euphemism for the situation she’d envisioned.

Buffy gave her the best smile she could muster before reassuring her: "Nothing happen, now go upstairs and get cleaned up. I’m making omelettes for dinner."

"Oh, goody." Dawn squealed with fake enthusiasm as she walked out of the basement leaving Buffy alone in the dark room.

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"Here you go. Just the way you like it." Anya said in a babyish tone as she put the tray in front of a highly pampered Xander.

"Thanks, honey." Xander replied as he picked up the fork and drove it into the mountain of mashed potatoes in front of him.

"She’s spoiling you rotten." Giles grumbled as he saw the vengeance demon leave the room. "We all know that you’re faking it."

"What? How could you say something like that G-man? I feel so weak and helpless." Xander squealed in a seemingly offended tone.

"You call me that again and you’ll feel more than weak." Giles threatened.

"Oh, come on Xander." Willow stepped in. "That vampire didn’t leave so much as a scratch on you."

"No, he didn’t leave a scratch. He left two very deep and round holes in my throat. That’s what he left." Xander protested exposing the bite mark in his neck.

"Xander!" Willow and Giles said in unison.

"Nop! I’m not moving. I’m staying right here and I’m gonna milk this for all that it’s worth. I mean guys, look at this place. This house hasn’t been this clean since… since EVER. Anya will do anything I say."

"What you’re doing is not right." Giles advised, giving Xander a sharp disapproving look that made him what to melt under his sheets.

"Come on people, I left the hospital today." Xander argued.

"The doctor wanted to let you go last night, just after you came in. We all heard you begging him to stay at least that night." Willow replied.

There was silence for a second and then Xander broke it with a huge sigh:

"Ok, fine. You win. But I want it on record that this is not fair. It hasn’t even been a day since I got bitten. At least give me till tomorrow morning." Xander begged with huge pleading eyes.

"It’s your-"

A ringing sound cut off Giles before he could finish his sentence.

"Hello?" Xander answered the phone with a fake hoarse voice. "Sam, hey. How are-" Xander jumped up from the bed as a very angry voice answered from the other side of the line. "I’m a bit weak from-" Giles and Willow heard shouting and screaming coming from the small plastic object Xander held up to his ear. "But I can’t go to work tomorrow I’m-" More shouting. "It’s just that- But-" And yet more. "Ok, fine I’ll be there tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp. Right. I’ll be there. Bye."

"I guess you’re going to work tomorrow, huh?" Willow said with a mocking grin on her face.

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She walked numbly through the graveyard, slowly going through the motions of another night out slaying. The small wooden stake tightly clenched in her able hand as she absentmindedly drove it into another vampire. As the creature quickly crumbled to dust a light gush of wind blew past her, causing the small featherweight particles to cover her marred face. As she brushed them away an image flashed before her eyes.

She squinted hard to make it go away but her mind refused to let it go - the sight of him, being enveloped by the flaming bright light, his hand stretched out to her, in his eyes a disturbing mixture of fear and acceptance for his fate. The visions, burnt in her retina, assaulted her mind. The heart wrenching pain in her chest grew uncontrollably as echoes of him calling her that same morning, just before dawn, crept into her hear. She could have sworn it was his voice. It was weak and hoarse, but it was his voice. Then again, she had been wandering barefoot in a pavement covered with broken glass and not felt a thing. The doubt haunted her in a way that she began to question her sanity.

Her fingers travelled up her face, over her forehead and paused on her temples, pressing hard, as if trying to erase the memories that flooded her eyes and her mind. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open as she instinctively knew she had arrived at her destination.

With trembling fingers she traced the hard markings on the old wooden door before pushing it open. She was greeted with the usual dark, murky walls of his crypt, except… it wasn’t his anymore, was it?

She barely heard the door slam shut behind her as she drifted into the large room. It was cold and damp but she remained unaware, unchanged, floating down the steps to the lower compartment. It was even darker, but she didn’t stumble over a thing. Her senses, her body knew every inch of that place and soon she was kneeling next to the bed, her right arm outstretched over the silk sheets.

A weak smile crept up her lips, as the memory became clearer. Suddenly, a thousand words and thoughts echoed in her ears. It was so loud she was forced to cover them, but it was no use, they came from inside her. From deep inside her. Sluggishly, her tremulous hands moved down her neck and back over the material that covered the bed. Her fragile body soon followed and she found herself laying numbly in a sea of white silk. She closed her eyes, letting the past scream at her, letting the distinct smell of cigarettes and alcohol that emanated from the sheet and the black leather that covered her seep into her skin.

She rolled to her side, pulling at the edges of the duster trying to cover every inch of herself. She remained still, comforted by the familiarity of it all, struggling to ignore the emptiness that crept its way into the room. But it was no use, soon reality seeped into her mind and it struck her chest, telling her he was gone.

She clutched onto the worn-out leather as if to life itself. Her small hands curled around her legs bringing them against her ribcage, desperately looking for isolation. Soon the tears rolled freely down two flushed, warm cheeks, around her chin, over her neck and onto the dry pillow. Her breath now came in short gasps as the pain flooded all of her senses.

Small cracking noises came from the bonfire as it slowly grew upwards toward the sky. She stood silently, watching it intensely, watching it come to life while a part of her died. Slowly, she let the leather slide down her lean figure grabbing it before it reached the grass beneath her feet. Her fingers mindlessly floated over the harsh fabric, as if caressing a wounded animal, careful not to hurt it. Her eyes drifted shut as she took in and registered those last moments. When she opened them again the duster was no longer in her hands but, instead, it lay over the burning wooden logs, bright yellow flames delicately hovering over it, engulfing it.

She stood there for what seemed like an eternity, staring blindly at the black material, oblivious to her surroundings when she heard him.

"I thought you like the duster, luv." Was the simple statement coming from behind her.

She remained still, yet her heart skipped a beat.

"Why’d you have to leave?" her hoarse voice echoed through the empty graveyard, but her eyes remained fixated on the fire in front of her.

"Had to. Just the way it had to be." She could tell he was close. Close enough to touch.

Slowly, two strong arms snaked around her waist and she felt him pressing against her back. For a second, a memory, of a different time, a different lover flashed before her. It seemed like a lifetime ago, a different world, a different place, a different Buffy. Somehow this pain was stronger, deeper.

With a light nod she shock away the memory and leaned back into the man standing behind her, holding her.

"I love you." She whispered truthfully.

"I know." The voice breathed back. She felt him nuzzle against her dishevelled hair before adding: "I have to go now."

She felt her heart leap out of her chest.

"NO! Don’t-" she turned around and he was gone. She was alone, sitting up in his empty bed, soaked in her own sweat.

"Harris! Move your sorry butt down that hole!" Sam yelled for the 1000th time that morning.

"Going, going, gee!" Xander mumbled to himself as he leaned toward the large hole in the middle of Roosevelt Drive. He swallowed hard as he imagined what *he* must have gone through. No wonder Buffy was so out of it.

After strapping a safety cord around his waist, he was slowly lowered down the hole by his fellow co-workers. As his feet reached solid ground he freed himself from rope and, turning on his flashlight, he began to examine his surrounding. There wasn’t much to it. Basically, a big gapping hole. Huge, tall walls threatening to fall out at anytime.

He walked around, careful where he stepped.

"See anything, Harris?" a deep voice asked from above.

"Nothing yet."

"Well, hurry up, I wanna have my lunch." The voice protested.

"Sure." Xander replied absentmindedly as he searched his surrounding, for what he wasn’t sure yet.

Suddenly, he stumbled on something. After cursing for a while he pointed his flashlight in the direction of what had nearly caused him to fall. He found a large pile of dust. He felt a pang in his chest as he slowly fell to his knees. He stared it, his hand hovering over it as he wondered whether or not to touch it.

"That’s not me, you wanker!" a familiar voice came from behind Xander, causing him to jump up, hit the low ceiling and, this time fall flat on his ass.

"Spike?!" Xander asked in disbelief.