Author Notes: This fic was originally supposed to be a one-off, but I had to write a snarky response to Yseult DeBreton's pro-Bangel feedback.

Spike knocked on the door. God, his knees were shaking so hard, it was like Cecily all over again.

He'd taken Angel's advice (washed up) and his own (drank a lot) and now he was still not ready to finally see her again. He swallowed. Then he started to feel light-headed and woozy. Then he remembered to breathe. That's gonna take an awful bloody time to remember.

The door swung open and she was there, in front of him, wrapped in a blanket and looking a little dopey, and sweaty from the warm Roman air, and still just beautiful.

"Spike!" she said, glossy eyes suddenly wide open. "My God, you're alive. And you're alive!"

He tried to look meek. "Yeah, little bit of a Shanshu came my way. I thought if you were, I don't know... lonely, or just feelin' a bit nostalgic you might like to see me again."

Staring into her eyes, after all this time, everything just felt right. Still, the nagging thought haunted him. "Unless you're still with the Immortal, in which case I'll show myself out." Not that he'd actually stepped in yet.

"No, we broke up a while back."

Spike's heart leapt for joy! And it really could now, which was an odd sensation. Finally he and Buffy could be together the way it was supposed to be! Just as he was about to open his mouth to sweep Buffy off her feet with some romantic exposition, another voice pierced through the quiet night.

"B! Come back to bed!"

Buffy flushed deep red - more so than before. She looked torn with muddled thought for a second or two (but only a second or two). "Um... Bye!"

And she shut the door in his face.