"Oh God, not you."

"Sorry, but I happen to live in the neighborhood." Spike pointed at his crypt door a few yards away.

"Well, can't you move somewhere else? I'm working here."

"And you might notice I just helped you work. The slightest bit of gratitude wouldn't be--"

"I don't need your 'help', Spike," Buffy said, complete with air-quotes.

"What was--" he aped the air-quotes and looked astonished, "what was that?"

"It means your help is never really help."

"My help is bloody well good help!"

"Well, would you stop helping? It's weird."

"Fine." He stormed off to his crypt, then thought better of it. "You know what's the matter with you?"

Buffy sighed, eyes closed. "What, Spike."

"That!" He pointed at her. "You close your eyes to everything, wishing it'll go away. But it won't." He moved closer. "I won't go away, no matter how much you want me to. I'll most likely outlive you, Slayer."

She twirled a stake between her fingers. "Not if I kill you right now."

"Yeah. But you won't." He turned towards his crypt again.

Buffy suddenly asked, "Why don't you go away?"

"What?"

"Why don't you leave? There's nothing here for you. I mean, yeah, Hellmouth, mystical monster magnet, but it's not like you can even be evil anymore--"

"I can too be evil!"

"--and we're not helping you get your blood anymore, you don't need us... And no one's gonna de-chip you any time soon. So why don't you just leave?"

"W--" he flustered. "Well, because!"

She waited patiently.

"Because you drive me bloody insane, that's why!"

"Who, me?"

"'Who me.' Yeah, you! With your aggravatin' little questions and your aggravating little facial expressions, and your aggravating little outfits, and...!"

She folded her arms, stake tapping against her shoulder. A tiny smile curled her lips.

He melted. "...And your pretty little smile."

Buffy stiffened. "Spike."

"I know." He tightened his fists, and turned around.

"Spike."

He spun to face her again.

"It wasn't me."

His jaw clenched. "I know that."

"It kills me that she did that."

"Don't know why you're tellin' me this, already heard your song and dance. It wasn't you, it was her, you're repulsed by me, the thought of sex with me makes you quiver in disgust--"

"Spike, that's not it. Not all of it."

"What, there's more?"

"When you told me," Buffy said, "I was upset, and furious, and sickened that someone used my body without my knowledge for... that. It's like being raped, you know."

Spike looked around. He hadn't thought about it that way. "Buffy, I'd never..."

"I don't blame you, Spike. I blame Faith," Buffy said. "She has a history of boyfriend-stealing with me, and--"

Spike's eyebrow arched.

Buffy caught herself. "Not that you're my, not that you're even mine in any way -- but, well actually, you're my enemy, not hers to just, you know, have her way with."

He smiled, thoroughly charmed by her babbling.

"I mean, I shouldn't be surprised that you'd like Faith..."

Spike looked quizzically at her.

"But so much she'd make you say something like that?"

"Buffy. It wasn't her."

"No. It was."

"I wasn't bloody talking to her! It wasn't about the sex."

Buffy closed her eyes.

"It was about you. How I feel about you."

Her eyes flew open. Did she just hear what she thought she heard?

Spike yelled, "Now I'm not going to say any more because I know where this is going and this is ridiculous and I'm leaving!"

He quickly turned and stomped into his crypt.

Buffy watched him slam the door. "Yeah, okay, I should be going now too."

She turned and started her long trek back to campus.