For over a hundred years, every time Dru shivered, Spike was there, putting his jacket around her shoulders. She'd never noticed until the night he didn't.
The night wasn't even cold. It had been a shiver of premonition. The tide was going out, exposing the barren expanse of the beach.
His cigarette hissed as it hit the waves. She hissed too, but he didn't hear.
She picked up a seashell and held it to her ear but couldn't make out the voices. It didn't matter. She could see in how he'd changed toward her.
The tide was carrying him away.