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It was hard though, having to hide her true feelings for him all the time, from everyone: her mother, her friends, Giles. Sometimes she had the urge to just scream it to the heavens and damn the consequences. But fear held her back: if their true relationship were found out, they might be driven apart and that was something she couldn’t bear. So she lived in fear, worrying that any moment someone would see past their carefully constructed lies to the truth and all would be lost.

And no reassurance from Spike could completely take away the fear – because she knew that he shared her fear, even if he never said so. She sensed it in the way he kissed her so desperately when they were able to hide away together, sensed it in the way he held her tighter right before it was time to part and go back to living the illusion that they were just close friends, nothing more. Fear had worked its way into their world and there was nothing they could do to banish it because fear was very justified: despite their caution, close calls did happen, only heightening the fear that surrounded them.



She couldn’t stop kissing him. It was always like this on Mondays: time alone was rare to come by at the weekends, with her mother in the house, and so when Joyce returned to work, they were desperate to be alone. They had barely made it through the door to his bedroom before they clashed, hands fiercely grabbing at clothes and skin and hair as they kissed hungrily, trying to assuage a weekend’s worth of pent-up desire.

Somehow, they had ended up half-sprawled on the bed, legs hanging over the edge – but completely oblivious to anything but the taste of each other. She had one arm slung around his neck, the other tentatively unbuttoning his shirt and one leg wrapped around his, holding him against her tightly. He parted from her and she gasped for breath, and then let out a moan as his mouth went to her neck, cool against her flushed skin.

“God, Buffy,” he groaned, passing his tongue over her skin.

“I need to touch you,” she gasped, struggling with the buttons of his shirt and finally giving up and ripping them.

He pulled back a tiny way, watching her in a mixture of surprise and amusement at her impatience to have her hand on his cool, bare skin. As soon as she was touching him though, he closed his eyes, forehead resting against hers as she ran her fingers over his chest.

“Buffy,” he whispered, the word ghosting over her lips.

He was holding himself away now, every muscle tense, and somehow she forced her hands to stop.

“We have to stop, darling,” he whispered breathlessly, pressing chaste kisses to her jaw and cheeks and forehead.

“I know,” she panted, “But… God, I… I can’t.”

He made the effort then, removing himself from her and flopping down beside her, his shirt parted and revealing his pale skin to her.



She watched him for a moment, before shifting to rest her head against his chest, unable to resist pressing a kiss to his skin and smiling at his gasp. She made herself comfortable then and twined one arm around him, eyes closing, fear and desire and sadness warring inside her.

“Is it going to get any easier?” she whispered, fingers stroking his waist.

He said nothing but held her closer, brushing his lips over her hair.

“I wish it would, love.”

The future looked pretty bleak right about now and she sighed, screwing up her eyes and wishing she didn’t have to think about these things.

“If it’s too much, Buffy… I’d understand if you-“

She quickly sat up, eyes meeting his almost fiercely.

“Don’t. Don’t even finish that sentence.”

He stopped himself, his eyes going soft, his hand reaching out to brush a hand over her hair.

“You could do so much better,” he whispered, not for the first time since their clandestine affair had started.

“No,” she answered firmly, “I’m not even going there. I want you. You, Spike. No-one else.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his tired eyes – neither of them was sleeping very well at the moment.

“And I want you, Buffy. I want you,” he emphasised, “But I can’t have you. And it’s not fair to you.”

“Stop it,” she said weakly, eyes tearing up, fingers reaching out to touch his jaw, “I don’t care. I just want what I can have with you. It’s enough.”



He softened with her distress, remorse colouring his expression.

“Buffy…”

“Don’t. Just kiss me.”

He caught her to him, one hand twined in her hair as he kissed her again desperately, their fears and hopes poured into the kiss. He pulled away and scattered kisses over her face, his voice a low murmur as he soothed her.

“My sweet, darling girl. What would I do without you?”

She leaned into his caresses and when his lips found hers again, she moaned and leaned into him, arms winding round him tightly as he tightened his grip on her, crushing her against his chest. She was heady with desire every time she kissed him but she had learnt to fight it now, to push it down and enjoy what little she could have. And it was enough. For now.

In one swift movement, he reversed their positions and now she could feel the whole length of his body pressed against her, could feel his desire for her, could feel the ragged unneeded breaths he took. She held him tighter, tongues battling as her hands ran down the full length of his bare back.

“Buffy?! Are you here?!”

They started apart guiltily at Xander’s raised voice downstairs and she scrambled free of him, smoothing clothes and hair in a panic.

“Oh God, oh God,” she whispered, wide eyes flying to Spike’s.

“Buffy? Spike?”

Willow was there as well and her breath caught in her panic.



Spike suddenly caught her arms, holding her still, forcing her gaze to his.

“Calm down,” he said firmly but softly.

“But they…”

“They haven’t seen anything. We’ll just get sorted and go down and see them. Say we were watching a film up here, yeah?”

She nodded helplessly, her eyes falling to his torn shirt.

“Your shirt.”

“It’s fine,” he soothed, getting quickly to his feet and throwing his shirt to the floor. He rifled through the drawers, pulling out a T-shirt and tugging it on quickly. He then turned to her and took her hands, guiding her to her feet. He ran both hands down her arms and brushed a kiss against her lips.

“Come on. It’s fine.”

“Buffy?! Are you here?”

She quickly hurried out of the room, Spike just behind her as she rushed down the stairs and found her friends waiting in the living room.



“There you are!” Xander exclaimed as they came in, her heart hammering in case they suspected what was going on.

“We- we were watching a movie,” she stuttered out.

Xander’s gaze went to the television next to him and Spike spoke up a moment later.

“Like it better upstairs. Draw the curtains… less chance of getting an unwanted suntan.”

Willow smiled gently and Xander nodded in understanding and she felt the constricted feeling around her chest fading.

“What are you doing here?” she asked calmly.

“Just came by to say ‘hi’.”

“Cool,” she said, nodding to the couch and settling on a chair herself, her heart finally returning to something like a normal speed and the fear dissipating. For now.





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