Buffy got a bare bones explanation from Angel about what was happening for them, and she was taking it with a grain of salt. Because Wolfram & Hart, and also, Andrew with a team of Slayers. What. She'd have to learn more about that later. She was aware thanks to Danny that she was something of a cult symbol in other some worlds, and she wasn't sure what to think of that. Maybe she could look it up ... a part of her hesitated. She needed time before going down that road. If it said something about her future, who knew how bad that went, and right then she wanted to feel good about surviving Sunnydale.
Except not all of them survived, and now she was told differently. Spike did, as a ghost, and if Angel was from a year later that was a year she didn't know anything about. Spike died, it was his choice, he became her champion the way they both hoped and feared. Buffy thought about what she lost and the many things she wanted to say to him. Now he opened the door and he was there and she was speechless. For her it'd been a few days. It was still a long time.
Her eyes did a quick once over, looking for scars or injuries, but he looked good. Tired, maybe. Buffy's first instinct was to push him, to yell, to throw up her hands and rant about how dumb he was, and also to kiss him. Pretty much normal for them. They were working on having healthier responses to each other, and she took calming even breaths. "You suck," she said finally, and moved past him into the apartment. Her ears started to shimmer with the start of tears, but she willed them away. "Why didn't you tell me? And I don't want to hear you couldn't find me, because you were still in LA and you could've come looking. It never stopped you before. So why."