Staring at Spike, pleading with his eyes, Xander tried to understand what was happening. “But, why? You can’t just leave! I need you, I.. I love you.”
Putting on an air of indifference, Spike shrugged. “I need to get away from here. I need to figure out what I’m going to do now.”
“But…”
“But nothing, pet. You can’t understand what I’ve been going through. And I can’t stand this bloody place anymore. I’m leaving.” Spike grabbed his duffelbag and headed toward the door of their apartment.
“I thought you loved me,” was Xander’s broken reply.
Spike turned back toward Xander, careful not to show any emotion to the desolate man. “When did I ever say that?” Ignoring the hurt and painfilled gaze that followed him, Spike walked out of the apartment.
The finality of the door closing broke Xander’s last resolve and he lost himself in his misery. He slumped to the floor, not even bothering to sit in a chair and stared brokenly at the wall. Spike left. Spike left him here with nothing but a handful of memories.
“Have either of you noticed how down Xander seems to be lately?” asked Dawn worriedly, cornering Buffy and Willow in the living room.
Buffy looked slightly confused. “Not really. I mean, yeah, he does seem a bit off now that you mention it. His jokes have even been semi-decent lately.”
“I hadn’t really noticed anything,” said Willow sheepishly. “But I’ve been distracted.”
Buffy and Dawn both grinned. “Yeah, we know,” said Dawn teasingly. “But I’m serious. I mean, I don’t know, but since Spike left…”
“Ah,” said Willow, her expression all sympathy, “Dawn, that’s to be expected. You don’t just get over your boyfriend leaving, even if it was mutual.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine soon,” said Buffy, as she and Willow continued their interrupted journey toward the kitchen.
Dawn sighed hopelessly. Those two were so blind. It was obvious that Xander hadn’t wanted Spike to leave, but she didn’t think that he and Spike had parted as good of friends as Xander had made everyone believe. Not with the way he’d been acting. But he wouldn’t talk to her. She started wandering and smacked into Andrew.
“Ow!”
“Sorry, Andrew, I was thinking.”
“It’s okay. You must’ve been thinking pretty hard, though.”
Dawn suddenly had an idea. “You know, Andrew, Xander’s really depressed right now. I’m so worried about him,” she said, almost melodramatically. “But he won’t talk to me, I don’t know what to do!”
“Well, maybe I could try and talk to him,” said Andrew, with slight reluctance. Everytime he got near the sable-haired Scooby, his tongue tied itself in knots.
“Would you really?” asked Dawn, widening her eyes hopefully.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Good, cause maybe,” she lowered her voice a bit, “you could keep him from thinking about Spike. Get him moving on, maybe.”