Spike looked down at the brunette who was currently glaring at him as if he were her least favorite person on the planet. He hid his shock, but the woman he was looking at now barely resembled the one he'd seen five years earlier. Aside from the change in her hair color, the healthy glow her skin had once held had been replaced by an almost sickly pallor.

"Hello, William. There's the couch," Buffy said, gesturing in the general direction of the aforementioned piece of furniture. "Sleep on it. Or just sit if you're not tired. Just don't make any noise. Got it?"

Spike frowned. Her mother had said something about Buffy experiencing some rough times since the wedding, but he wasn't expecting this. Her eyes held no spark, only weariness. She looked—broken. For a moment, Spike almost felt bad to be imposing himself on her like this, but then he remembered he had nowhere else to go.

"Um, yeah, okay. And, um, sorry about being so late. The plane got stuck in Cleveland for a while and…"

"Whatever. I have an early class." Buffy pushed past him, shutting and locking the front door before going back to her bedroom, leaving Spike standing in her small kitchen-slash-living room.

"Well, this should be fun," Spike muttered to himself as he made his way to the couch.

*** *** ***

Buffy walked out of her bedroom the next morning, her houseguest completely forgotten until she walked into the living room to see him sprawled out on her couch in nothing but a pair of ripped jeans. Her barely functionally-awake brain provided her first thought before she could control it. Much to Buffy's dismay, that thought happened to be "Mmm…yummy."

Her subsequent horror that that thought had entered her mind for even a second was like a splash of cold ice water. She scoffed in disgust. He wasn't attractive at all. Scrawny and pale. Who would want to look at that?

She gave him one last, quick glance out of the corner of her eye before going to the bathroom to get ready for school.

*** *** ***

"So is your step-brother here yet?"

Buffy gave Willow a dirty look as they walked together from class. "How many times do I have to tell you—mother's husband's son."

"Oh. Sorry, I forgot."

Buffy clutched her books tighter to her chest. "He's here. Got in at some ungodly hour this morning. I already wish he was gone."

"Did he do something?" Willow asked, frowning.

"Yes. He showed up. That was enough to keep from endearing himself to me. I am so not looking forward to going home with him there."

"I've got a solution for that—there's a party tonight that Tara, Xander, and I are all going to. Why don't you tag along?"

"Willow, I've told you a thousand times—I don't do parties. They're too much of a distraction."

Willow nudged her. "Riley Finn will be there."

"And I care about this because…"

"Oh, come on, Buffy—I've seen the way you look at him. Wistful stares across the classroom. And he's totally been looking back."

Buffy tried to push down the blush that threatened to form at her friend's teasing. "No way. I am fully content to be a single Buffy. Besides, I have to work tonight."

"Um, Buff, the bakery isn't open at night."

Buffy paled. "I meant school work! Yes, I have papers—lots of them."

Willow moved in front of Buffy, stopping her before she could try to walk faster. "You took a second job! You said you wouldn't do that again—not after you all but passed out from exhaustion the last time."

Buffy looked down. "I know, but…" She sighed, and said softly, "I had to, Wills. My power was cut off last week. If I didn't…" She felt tears sting her eyes.

Willow softened then, patting Buffy's shoulder, wishing there was more she could do for her friend. Willow had tried helping her out with what little money she could give in the past, but Buffy wouldn't take it. She said she didn't want to feel like the "charity case friend." "Maybe you could convince Snyder to give you a raise at the bakery," she suggested.

"Oh yes. Because that little rat-face man is so big with handing out more money. All he ever does is walk in the door, announce he hates everyone who works for him, and then leave."

"Good point. Buffy, you know if there's anything I can do…"

"I'll be okay. Really. I learned from last time, and I think I can better juggle two jobs and school now."

"If you say so…" Willow replied, obviously weary. "But Buffy, if things start getting as bad as they were before…"

"I know. I'll watch out for myself. I promise."

Willow moved away, letting them both continue walking down the hall. She said nothing, but the doubt in her eyes hadn't gone away.

*** *** ***

Spike looked up from where he was sitting on the couch as Buffy walked in the door. "How was school?"

"Don't talk to me."

"Right then." Spike turned back to the television.

Buffy opened the fridge, took out the milk, frowning as she felt the weight of the carton. She looked inside, confirming her suspicions. "The milk's gone."

"Yeah. I'll buy more when I figure out where the store is."

"You put the empty carton back in the fridge. That's…" Buffy stopped, frowning at the television. "Are you watching a soap opera?"

"Passions. Bloody brilliant show."

"You're a freak. Keep it down. I have to study." She tossed the empty milk carton in the garbage can and walked towards her bedroom, stopping halfway there and turning towards Spike. "And could you please put a shirt on? I really don't want to have to look at your pathetic excuse for a chest." With that, she went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

"Bitch," Spike muttered to himself, turning up the volume of the television.

*** *** ***

Buffy came home, grateful to find her apartment dark and empty. She would have rather found it also without Spike's things still being here, but she would take what she could get.

He hadn't left her any note telling her where he'd gone or when he'd be back, but she didn't care. As far as Buffy was concerned, whoever had claimed that misery loves company had been wrong. She preferred to be alone and miserable. It made her feel less pathetic if the rest of the world couldn't see how low she'd let herself become.

Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. She'd already eaten tonight anyway, the caterers at her new job with the event staff at a reception hall allowing her to have some of the leftover hors d'oeuvres. Besides, it wasn't like she hadn't gone to bed hungry plenty of times before.

She went into the bathroom, stripping out of her uniform. She didn't look in the mirror, tired of the sight of the dark circles under her eyes and the outline of her ribs through her pale skin. She didn't know who it was she was seeing anymore, could barely convince herself that that was indeed her own reflection. She turned on the shower and stepped into the stall, letting the warm water wash over her weary, aching body.

Buffy pressed her hands against the tile wall, willing herself not to cry. She could be strong. She could do this. It didn't matter how hard things were now, they'd be better someday. She'd graduate, get a real job, and finally be able to make ends meet.

Five, ten years from now, none of this would matter.

After her shower, Buffy dried her hair and dressed for bed, looking forward to getting a few hours of sleep. Tomorrow was Saturday, but she had a double shift at the bakery, followed by another reception at her new job. If she could just rest a little, maybe she wouldn't be dead on her feet for that.

Buffy had just drifted off to sleep when it began. Her shelves began to rattle, the beat pounding from next door threatening to make everything on them spill to the floor. She groaned, pushing her pillow against her ears in an attempt to muffle the noise. It didn't work, nor did it cease the vibrations that shook the small apartment.

After close to half an hour of attempting to fall asleep despite the din, she got out of bed, walked next door and knocked. A few moments later, a tall, dark haired man opened the door, smirking down at her. "Can I help you?"

"Percy, I know we go through this all the time, but could you please turn the music down just this once? I'm really tired."

"I don't see how that's my problem."

"It's not really, but I just…"

"Look, I honestly don't care if you're some kind of loser that stays home in bed Friday nights, because I have a life—and right now, I'm having a party. You can't dictate the lives of the people around you."

"I'm not trying to…"

"You need to learn to live with other people, bitch. Get over it, and don't bother me again." Percy slammed the door in her face.

Buffy walked back to her apartment, forcing back tears for the second time that night as she went into her room and sat on the bed. She pulled the chain she wore around her neck from under her night shirt, clutching the Claddagh ring that hung from the end. Now she did cry, the burden of the painful memories she carried with her every day weighing her down further.

She wished as she did everyday that things were different, that fate hadn't been so cruel to her. If she could just have him here now, even simply to comfort her, she knew that everything would be okay.

When Buffy finally fell asleep that night, her hand was still wrapped tightly around the ring.

*** *** ***

I want to apologize for the fact that I neglected this story for two months. That wasn't my intention when I began it, but I got caught up in a couple of other fics, and this one suffered. However, I am now turning my attention back here, and I promise I won't wait that long for another update. (Although reviews usually make me update faster—hint, hint.)

Also, before I write anymore, I want to clearly state a few things as to not have any confusion in the future. I plan for this fic to be a long one, with a healthy dose of both UST and angst. That means it will be awhile before Buffy and Spike are an actually couple. However, despite the references to both Angel and Riley in this chapter, this story is Spuffy. If you're game for emotional ups and downs and whatnot, then by all means continue reading. I hope to make it an enjoyable ride. However, if you want fluff where Spike and Buffy are happy all the time, you're in the wrong place—and I don't want to see any reviews griping at me about it either. You've been warned right here, right now.

That being said, I also don't plan to make it so angsty that you feel the need to drown yourself in a box of Kleenex. There will also hopefully be enough humor and romance to stave off the need for Valium. Or whiskey. Either one.

Let me know what you think of it so far!