Spike steps in Buffy's path and passive-aggressives about not making something big out of the night before. Buffy's perfectly happy to go along with that, 'cause she's real busy and all, what with being alone and special and beyond the understanding of mere mortals. Somehow they end up bickering about Buffy heading out on another "solo mission" to a "tomb on unconsecrated ground" to discover more about her "scythe." Spike offers to check on Caleb at the vineyard while Buffy's out looking for her unconsecrated tomb. They exchange semi-snippety "greats." Oh, c'mon. Stop stalling! Get to the relationship dissection and get it over with, already. Spike starts to leave, and then Buffy hurries after him, grade-schooling, "You're a dope!" Spike is understandably confused by Buffy's reversion to schoolyard discourse. She tells him that she only has The Little Red Axe That Could because of "the strength that [he] gave [her] last night." She snips that she's "tired of defensiveness and weird mixed signals." Huh. Well, perhaps she should stop being defensive and putting out mixed signals, then! She wants them to tell the truth to each other or something. I don't know; I was practicing training Latch to sit perfectly still so I could do shots off the top of her head. We're getting there after some spills, but I'm a little worried about how much she's started to lick herself. Anyway, back to the navel-gazing blondies. Spike was "terrified" because the night before was "the best night of [his] life." You know, I'm picturing all the female writers of Buffy sitting around writing this crap and giggling like eighth-graders with a brand-new copy of Tigerbeat, and I just have to ask: Do they know any real men? Like, not eighteen-year-old melodramatic guys who say this kind of gooey stuff and leave torn-up flowers on your front porch when you distress them, but real men? Because, ugh.
So, best night of his life. Because of all the closeness and the holding and the sleeping. Buffy says the night before was very important to her, too. Someone should remind them both that the Slayer is always alone, because I've had it pounded into my brain this season, and it makes it quite hard to take any talk of closeness very seriously. Extreme close-up of Spike as he reiterates and then repeats what he's just said. Buffy tells him not to be terrified, and confirms that she was "there" with him. Spike starts to get all soft and sparkly-eyed and even indulges in a head-tilt, which is something we haven't seen in a long while. I'm sure it thrilled many people who aren't me. Spike asks what "it" means, and I've totally lost the thread of the scene from boredom, and quite possibly alcohol poisoning, so I have no idea what he's talking about. Something mushy, I suspect. Buffy replies, "I don't know [what it means]. Does it have to mean something?" Not if you're emotionally frigid, Buffy. Which you are, so, great! You're off the hook. Instead of finally getting fed up with The Great Buffy Jerk-Around, Spike simply knuckles under and says it doesn't have to mean anything. Buffy can't afford to alienate her lap-dog, though, for whatever reason, so she throws out a little bone: "Maybe when…" Yeah, sure. Spike says they should leave the rest of the conversation and "go be heroes." Just for one day. Sniff. No, no. Spike and Buffy didn't get to me -- I just get a little mushy every time I think of that song. David Bowie did more in one song, in terms of heart-wrenching melancholy mixed with hope, than ME has been able to do in this entire season.