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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you so much to everyone for the reviews! They help keep me going. And also thank you to everyone who's still reading this story. Hopefully everyone is still enjoying it.

Here's the next chapter. :)
Buffy opened her eyes, feeling sore yet satisfied. She stretched languidly before her eyes drifted open. Beams of sunlight were trickling through the edges of the closed drapes but the room was mostly shrouded in darkness and so it took Buffy a moment to acclimatize herself to her surroundings. Somehow this didn’t feel like the bed she’d grown used to sleeping in since arriving back in Los Angeles.

A hard body was lying curled up next to her and for a moment she felt a little confused. She glanced to her left and her eyes almost popped out of their sockets when she saw the blond man slumbering peacefully. One arm was flung back behind his head and the sheets had ridden down leaving his chest fully exposed. Beneath the thin cotton of the sheet she could see the outline of a very excited part of his anatomy and all her instincts urged her to scramble away.

Naked Spike was in her bed. Or wait, no he wasn’t. She was in his bed. Ugh, semantics were so not important right now! The problem at hand was that they were in bed together. Her head swam with absolute bewilderment for a minute. Until a plethora of disjointed images came rushing back to her.

She’d gone to some sketchy bar, gotten drunk, spit up on Spike shoes, and oh yeah…possibly had sex with the man she hated most in the world.

Okay, this was not of the good. Actually it was on a different continent to good.

Desperately she tried to sort through her recollections to piece together exactly what happened.

The last thing she remembered was him going down on her, which had felt totally amazing. Actually it was the kind of bliss that even her wildest fantasies didn’t touch on. But it was with Spike, which was ooky and creepy and everything bad all wrapped up a package of wigsome.

Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, she lifted the sheet. Peeking under the covers, she soaked in her naked form.

Oh God! Naked in bed with Spike Pryce was definitely not of the good. Especially when she couldn’t actually recall exactly what happened with him.

Despite her memory lapse she was sure that sex had followed Spike’s one-man feast, because let’s be honest, this was Spike she was dealing with. Unfortunately her lack of clothing also confirmed her worst fears of Spike-sex.

And now she couldn’t even remember the possibly mind blowing and yet totally depraved lovin’ that they may or may not have had but probably did have because this was Spike Pryce and she was pretty sure he didn’t relinquish the chance to stick in it whenever he got the chance.

This was the exact reason that Buffy and booze were so unmixy. Even her mind was babbling now!

She glanced back to her onetime lover and sighed. It was amazing just how innocent he could look when he was sleeping. All the guile and snark drained out of him leaving just the boy behind. A smile touched the edge of her lips as that thought flitted through her brain. Maybe if he was so sweet when he was awake then she could actually learn to like him.

Oh God! That was not a good trail of thought to pursue.

Suddenly feeling the need to freak the hell out, she bolted upright, torn between tears and fury. Unluckily, sitting up also made her aware of the stark pounding in her head and the nausea in her gut.

Struggling to her feet with one hand clasped to her clammy forehead she embarked on a clothes hunt finding them strewn across the room. Periodically Buffy glanced at a still sleeping Spike while she haphazardly gathered up her clothes. Apparently he slept like the dead. She was unable to locate her underwear and eventually gave up.

For once Buffy didn’t really care about looking her best. She felt like regurgitated dog food, so she wasn’t too worried about looking like the movie star she actually was right now. Throwing on her clothes with careless abandon, she headed toward the door.

Of course, nothing was ever simple for Buffy, including escaping after a night of potentially steamy but very wrong sex and she bumped into the side table only inches from the door, a small crash echoing in the room.

Clasping her injured knee and biting her tongue to stop herself from crying out in pain, her eyes whipped to Spike, who turned onto his side at the disturbance.

For several moments she kept her eyes glued to him, holding her breath for fear of waking him, while willing away the pain. However, his eyes didn’t open and he smacked his lips together and settled back into rest. Without waiting another moment, Buffy scampered from the room.

When Buffy finally arrived at the studios that morning, she was more than two hours late. The blonde was decked out in black jeans and a black sweater. A huge pair of sunglasses sat perched on her nose and a cap was pulled down over her eyes. Even with all those accoutrements, she still looked drained. Her face was pale and pinched, like a map detailing her transgressions of the previous night.

It didn’t help that the cab driver was apparently Los Angeles’ most jovial soul. He seemed intent on sharing his entire family history with the hung-over girl and, as caring a person as she was, she just couldn’t find it in herself to be interested in this stranger. On the upside, at least she’d managed to slip past the reporters again. She smiled to herself as she realized she was getting pretty wily. Just a few more times and she was pretty sure she’d be ready for ninja training.

Hey, maybe if she was a ninja then she’d be able to ninja-ly avoid Spike Pryce and his penis too. Of course she’d also have to avoid his magical tongue, which could only be a good thing. And maybe if she repeated that fact to herself then it would eventually become reality.

Her head pounded harder. In fact, she was pretty sure that she could actually hear a little rattle in her brain now.

Stepping out of the cab, she flashed her I.D. card to the security guard before hurrying inside to her dressing room. She was hoping that she wouldn’t have to encounter Giles.

Her manager had been calling her cell phone all morning but she had steadfastly been ignoring his calls. A guilty voice kept reminding her how disappointed in her he would be if he knew what she’d done with Spike and she was convinced that as soon as she saw her he would sense it. She also wasn’t eagerly anticipating the tongue lashing that she was positive her manager would dish out for her overnight disappearance.

And now was so not the time to start thinking about any tongue belonging to a British man. Particularly if that man was a peroxided former porn star with oral skills that would slay even the coldest of women.

Bad Buffy!

As bad luck would have it, Giles was waiting inside her dressing room with a stormy expression plastered on his face. Buffy shrank back when he glared at her the moment she closed the door. For a second she considered bolting but there was no point. The blonde would have to face the music eventually.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked, unusually harshly. Giles had gotten mad at her before but the bite in his voice cut clean through her flesh.

“Giles, please don’t start,” she pleaded, padding over to the desk and sinking down into a chair. Her manager was unusually unshaven and looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

She pulled her hat and glasses off in order to inspect the damage done by her mammoth drinking binge in the mirror. It was actually worse than she envisaged. Her eyes were swollen with dark bags underlining them. She looked as if she’d been on some kind of month long drugs binge.

Catching sight of her looks, Giles gasped.

“What the bloody hell happened to you?” he demanded, his voice filled with both concern and anger. “I came to your room and you didn’t answer the door. I called your phone and you didn’t pick up. I thought you were lying in a bloody gutter somewhere. I was about an hour away from calling the police. What happened?”

“Some tequila kicked my ass,” she responded flatly, sticking out her furry tongue before grimacing again.

“You were drinking? Good God, Buffy, what were you possibly thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, Giles,” she sighed. “I was upset and depressed that my whole cold as a wet fish sex life was splayed all over the television and magazines. And hey! Who gets to tell me about it but vapido-girl Harmony? So yeah, I had a couple too many drinks, but it’s my life and if I wanna do it, then why shouldn’t I? Adult here, remember? Maybe I’ll just drink myself to death next time so I can avoid you going all lecture-y on me.”

She pouted indignantly at him, and his face instantly softened. That Summers’ pout could melt many a male heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to get angry at you, but I was terribly worried. When I couldn’t reach you, I was merely concerned for your wellbeing. You’re not just a charge to me, Buffy. You’re a daughter too.”

Feeling tears stinging her eyes, Buffy blinked rapidly. She rose from her seat and launched herself into the arms of a startled Giles.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

That was exactly the kind of reassurance she needed right now. She’d felt so dirty when she woke up, as if she was tainted on the inside because of what she did the previous night.

Sleeping with someone she hated was not high on the Buffy-list of acceptable things to do, especially when what she could remember of that sex turned out to be of the mind-blowing genre.

But even though Giles was clueless about her indiscretion with Spike he loved her and it warmed her heart.

Pulling away, he gently stroked her hair like a father would if he was comforting a sad child.

“You’re running late,” he told her gently. “You’d better get yourself into makeup.”

She nodded, glancing at her tousled reflection one more time, before heading out of the room. Buffy was glad that the meeting with Giles had gone better than expected. She’d thought he would be furious about her little stint being MIA, but he’d calmed quickly.

Now there was just one more person that she wished she could avoid today. Spike. As hard as she was trying not to think about the night before, that mission was proving impossible. The annoying blond was like a virus that had burrowed its way deep inside of her, and every time she tried to purge it from her system it simply mutated into something else.

During the course of the time she’d known him her thoughts about him had ricocheted between being hateful, pitiful, angry and lust-bunnyish. It didn’t make sense because no one else ever provoked feelings like that from her.

And then last night there had been something else too…another layer…another depth. She didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, but she had felt a connection with him as they gazed into each other’s eyes. She couldn’t remember much but she could remember pulling back from his deceptively soft lips and being pulled into the magnetized azure ocean of his gaze.

It was something that transcended their carnal connection. Not something tangible, but something more…ethereal.

More than anything Buffy wished that she hadn’t felt that particular feeling, because if it had just been meaningless then maybe she would have gotten him out of her system by now.

And that brought her right back to the avoid-y idea.

Unfortunately, considering the fact that the script of Murder Most Strange demanded they lock lips again today, avoiding him was a little to the left of the wrong side of impossible.

With a heavy heart, Buffy stepped into makeup for her hopefully miraculous makeover.

Almost an hour later, Buffy finally stepped out again, feeling more human again. Thankfully, she looked a little better after going through the expert hands of the resident makeup artist. However, even though her outward appearance had improved, her insides still felt like they’d been put through a grinder.

With every step she took heading down to the set, her head was pounding a merry tune and she silently swore to herself once again that no drop of alcohol would ever find its way past her lips in the future.

Fortunately Spike looked just as bad as she felt. His red-rimmed eyes were puffy and swollen, almost as if he’d been crying. Even the wonders of stage makeup hadn’t been able to conceal that disturbing little morsel of information. It was lucky that the character he was playing was similarly heartbroken.

What was it that they said about life mimicking art?

As she drank in his disheveled appearance, she felt a twinge of guilt about just running out on him, but made a mental effort to reassure herself she had actually done the right thing.

He approached her warily, studying her from the far side of the room for a moment before padding over to her. As soon as he got within ten feet the whiff of booze assaulted her nostrils and she gagged slightly.

Her stomach was already sensitive, so smelling more alcohol wasn’t exactly helpful. Buffy frowned as she realized the stench was too strong to just be left over alcohol from last night, and wondered if he’d been drinking this morning too.

“Hello, Buffy,” he said gently, his face impassive.

“Spike,” she said as politely as she could. All her instincts were pleading with her to flee, but she dampened them down and gifted him as polite a smile as she could muster.

“You were gone this morning when I woke up.” The wistful sorrow in his tone tugged at her heart but she dampened that emotion down.

“I thought it was for the best.” Buffy looked away, focusing her dewy eyes on anything but Spike.

He took a deep breath and tried to catch her eyes, but she kept them on the ground, purposely avoiding locking eyes with the peroxide blond. “We need to talk, love.”

Her heart jumped painfully in her chest at his words. That was exactly what she’d been hoping to avoid. She didn’t want to talk to Spike. In fact, out of all the things that she could do right now, talking with him would be right at the bottom of the list. Actually it wouldn’t even be on the list at all. It would have its own special list for things that she never wanted to do…ever.

“We have nothing to say,” she told him sternly, glancing around to ensure that no one was paying attention to their conversation. Luckily everyone else was going about their own business without caring about the blond pair.

“We have a lot to say,” he insisted through gritted teeth, grabbing a hold of her dainty wrist.

She shook his hold off of her and leveled the most menacing look at him that she could. “No, Spike. There’s nothing to say. Last night was a mistake, okay? It shouldn’t have happened so let’s just forget about it and pretend that it never existed.”

He scoffed at her words, clearly disbelieving of her sincerity. “Never existed? You can’t tell me you really believe that load of bollocks you’re spouting.”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it. We can’t have…” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “…sex again. Ever, Spike.”

Shocked at her words, Spike’s eyes widened. So the little princess thought they’d fucked! Well wasn’t that an unexpected twist? Not that he was surprised. She’d been well and truly pickled in tequila the previous night so it made sense that there would be gaps in her memory.

He was torn between a slight slither of pride that she assumed he was such a stallion his charms would inevitably have lured her into bed so that he could take her body to new heights of carnal bliss, and offense that she wouldn’t realize she would vividly recall such an earthshaking event.

Of course, he should tell her that they didn’t actually round fourth base but the little demon on his shoulder prodded him toward the dark side. If she really didn’t remember what happened, then he wasn’t going to enlighten her any time soon.

In fact…maybe he could have a little fun with this. It couldn’t compound his heartbreak anymore and maybe making her suffer would make him feel better. And there was always the possibility that it would make her want to do it again and fill in those little voids in her recollections.

Yes, he was sure this plan would work one way or another.

He sucked in his cheeks and made eye contact with her. “Last night we made magic together! I shagged you into the blood ground, love. That’s not the kind of thing you consign to the annals of history.”

At her eye roll, he sighed, half enjoying her discomfort and half feeling hurt at her continuing rejection. Even if it was a lie that they actually slept together, they still did things. Things that would no doubt disgust and offend her delicate sensibilities. He probably shouldn’t tell her that he didn’t think he would ever forget the delicious tang of her pussy though if he didn’t want a punch to the nose.

“What part of never do you not understand?” Buffy asked, exasperated.

“The ‘never’ part! It deserves a re-run. Hell Buffy, what we shared last night was so good it should go into bloody syndication. I made you pussy sing so loudly she reached notes she didn’t even know existed.”

Buffy reddened and squeezed her thighs together. She felt new moisture dampen her panties and willed away her renewed arousal. “So what if we had…sex…that was…okay?” She actually felt a small pang of regret once again. Only this time, it was not because they had sex, but because she didn’t recall the having of it.

“Okay?!” he yelled, totally offended by her words. “It was the best you ever had, you vindictive bird!”

All of a sudden, it didn’t matter that there was no actual sex. So what if all he did was go down on her? That alone was more than okay. He made her pass out from the pleasure and he was betting that didn’t happen to this vanilla girl often.

His outburst garnered a few curious glances from other members of the cast and crew and Buffy clenched her fists, feeling the urge to put a fist through his face creep up on her once again.

Being around Spike really wasn’t good for her blood pressure.

However, this time she was determined to be mature rather than acting like Neanderthal-Buffy. Instead of resorting to violence, she grabbed a hold of the cuff of his sweater and dragged him out into the hallway, not slowing her pace until they reached her dressing room. He followed her like a good puppy.

When they were finally alone in the privacy of her private room, she swallowed audibly. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to be alone together in such close proximity. Especially when she could just lean forward and take the tiniest nibble out of that neck and then…

No!

She chastised herself, reminding the bad-Buffy part of her that there would be no nibbling. There would be no anything with the annoying blond porn star.

Smoothing down non-existent creases in her top, she opened her mouth to talk. “It doesn’t make a difference if it was the best sex ever or the suckiest sex in history, Spike. You and me…we don’t fit together.” She held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “You need to be with someone who’s like you. Someone like…Harmony.”

Was she kidding? It really didn’t matter that they didn’t actually have sex now. This was so far beyond the point, that the point wasn’t even visible on the horizon anymore. She was rejecting him, telling him he should be with Harmony of all people! How could she imagine he’d truly want to be with a moron like his platinum blonde former pornographic co-star?

“Harmony?!” His stunned face almost drew a hysteria-induced giggle from Buffy but she chewed on her lip to stop it from bubbling forth.

“She’s more your kind of girl. She comes from the same world that you come from.” And hadn’t Buffy seen firsthand evidence of that fact? She reddened but her flush went unnoticed by a livid Spike.

“Whereas you’re so much better than me,” he spat distastefully. He’d flushed such an angry shade of crimson that Buffy thought steam might come rushing out of his ears at any moment. Adopting a falsetto voice, he raised his nose to the heavens. “Oh! I’m Buffy! Everyone loves me because I’m just so perfect and I could never possibly do anything wrong. I couldn’t possibly be with someone who doesn’t fit my oh so high standards! Why, you ask? Because that stick in my arse is ten feet long and I just can’t seem to extract it.”

Buffy glared at him. “Okay firstly, I so do not talk that way. And second? I didn’t say I was better,” she said wryly, “but now that you mention it…”

This time he was the one to still her words with a wave of his hand. “We’re equals, love. Yin and yang, you know? And it’s over with Harm, anyway. We’re over and done with. She’s nothing compared to you, love.” He paused, seemingly weighing his words. “Last night, I felt a connection with you.”

A connection? She looked at him like he’d finally lost the last threads of his already questionable sanity.

“No!” Buffy denied, internally flinching at his mention of a connection.

The fact that they’d both felt that intangible bond didn’t bode well for her capability of getting out of this union with her heart unscathed.

“Yes, Buffy. And it’s more than the little flush on your cheeks when you get close to a climax. More than those little gasps and moans that escape when your pussy gushes with your juices. It’s something I’ve never felt before, something special and wonderful. It’s not the kind of connection you find often. You can trust me on that one, love.”

His eyes were such a deep shade of blue that they almost looked black. Buffy knew she could have gotten lost in those eyes if she allowed herself that luxury.

A sob broke from her lips. “Spike, I can’t…”

“I’ve fucked a lot of women, and I mean a lot, and fucking them didn’t compare to just holding you in my arms.”

Her eyes narrowed as she jerked back to reality. For a moment she’d been lulled into a false sense of safety. Trust the blond menace to give her a much needed reminder of what he actually was.

“You’re a pig, Spike,” she replied, disregarding the pang of jealousy that nagged at her when she thought of him with a harem of other girls ready to attend to his every whim. “If you think that telling me the history of your conquests is the way to win my heart, then you really need to rethink your wooing technique.”

“I don’t need to bloody woo you.”

“Right! You don’t need to woo me. In fact, you don’t need to anything me! You just need to leave me alone. Last night was a onetime thing.”

“Are you kidding? A onetime thing? My bloody fingers and tongue made you scream and beg for more, pet. One time with me will never be enough for you. Don’t deny it! You felt it too! You’ll want more from me, pet. You’ll want to find out how my cock feels buried deep inside your pretty little quim.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust at his words. Although there was truth to what he said, he didn’t have to be so crude about it. His vulgar language only managed to remind her of who and what he was. She couldn’t allow herself to be with someone like him.

Even if she didn’t hate him, he wasn’t right for her. She meant it when she said he would be better off with someone from his own world than pursuing her. If they continued down the path that last night had set them on, she could only envisage it ending badly…for the both of them.

Then something else hit her. He’d said that she would want to find out how his cock feels. Suddenly she was suffused with anger as the ramifications of that statement sunk in. The reason she didn’t remember the sex was because there hadn’t been any. He’d lied to her. Again.

“Spike,” she said coldly. “Did we actually have sex last night?”

He faltered for only a moment before his arrogant smirk settled back in place. “How else would I know what you look like when you come?” His voice lowered to a sensual whisper. “How could I tell you that your pussy contracts like a vice if we didn’t shag?”

“I know we did…something.” Buffy gulped and dug her nails into her palms to push down that recollection. “But was there actual sex? Or did you lie to me about that?”

“W-well I wouldn’t call it lying.” Guilt sprouted all over his face. “I just didn’t exactly tell you the truth.”

“Oh my God!” Buffy flung her hands up, covering her face. She couldn’t bear to look at him right now. “You made me think we slept together.”

“Well technically…”

“Holy crap, Spike! How could you do this to me? How could you make me think that we had sex?”

“Hey, don’t you pin the blame on me for this, Goldilocks. You were the one who got yourself so bloody sozzled you can’t even remember if you let me take a poke.”

For a moment Spike thought she might hit him and clenched his jaw in readiness, but instead of resorting to violence, she spewed her contempt with words.

“I really hate you,” she spat venomously. “I can’t believe I let you touch me, period. I should have learned from the last time you lied to me six years ago.”

“The last time I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the truth.”

“And that’s so different!” she scoffed. “You have the most skewed sense of reality out of anyone I ever had the misfortune to meet.” The blonde shook her head disbelievingly before turning toward the door.

“Please Buffy, I’m sorry!” yelled Spike.

Buffy halted in her tracks but didn’t turn around. She blinked at his barked apology and then sighed as she realized she couldn’t let herself listen to it. The man apparently hadn’t changed. He still manipulated situations to his own ends. Did he actually think that making her believe they slept together would make her want to do it again? Or was it just an offhanded punishment from an impotent, jilted lover? His little morsel of revenge in allowing her to think she’d lowered herself to someone like him.

Slowly she twisted around so she was face to face with her almost-lover. “Listen, Spike, let’s just get through the rest of today and tomorrow without any other incidents and then we’ll never have to endure each other’s presence ever again.” Buffy’s dewy green eyes flicked imploringly to him, almost mesmerizing him with her pleas.

However, he wasn’t about to let her go without a fight and he steeled himself, resting his head against the wall behind him.

It was now or never, do or die.

“I have feelings for you,” he told her tentatively, feeling a stab in his heart when he heard her sigh, but pushed on with his declaration regardless. “I don’t know yet for sure what they are…”

“Hate and loathing!” she interjected.

Ignoring her, he continued, “…but I want to see what we can have together. Give us a bloody chance, Buffy.”

“Are you kidding?” He shook his head. “So you’ve just gone totally insane?”

“I haven’t gone insane, love. I’ve wanted this for so long!” he assured her but she continued to stare at him like he’d grown an extra head.

Momentarily Buffy wondered if a new head might be less obnoxious toward her than his current one. Then she dismissed that thought. It would still be a part of Spike after all.

“You’re crazy, Spike! This has come out of nowhere.”

“Not nowhere. It’s been six years in the coming, love. Six years of waiting, wanting, lovi...”

“No! Don’t even say it! Just don’t okay?”

“Okay, it scares you, I can see that. There’s been a lot of water under out bridge but I want to be with you Buffy. No more lies, no more pretending. Just you and me and forever stretching out before us. I can feel how good we’d be together love!”

He turned his deep blue eyes to her. They seemed even deeper than usual, like the depths of the dark and stormy ocean, pulling her under to her doom. There was no hint of the usual mocking glint that she saw there. All she could detect was pure and unadulterated sincerity and her resolve wavered for a moment.

It would be so easy just to give in to him. In spite of her mean words, she could attest to the fact that Spike had shown himself to be a phenomenal lover with his one selfless act if she was honest. He’d been generous and passionate, taking her to intense heights that had never even featured in her wildest dreams.

On one hand she knew he could be a wonderful man but on the other hand Spike was everything that she disapproved of. He was not only a former porn star but he had also lied to her and hurt her, more than once. It would take more than a few pretty words to erase her deeply ingrained resentment for his transgressions.

Sure she had seen him change. She remembered the way he crushed her six years ago and he was a different person now. Okay he was still temperamental and tempestuous, easily pissed off and incredibly volatile. But he hadn’t mocked her misfortune with Riley or abandoned her alone in a dangerous bar when she was ninety percent alcohol and only ten percent Buffy.

But the cautious part of her heart that had been stomped on in the past sent out a wailing siren at her near surrender. It veered to the side that would stop her from repeating the mistakes of the past. Everything was easier that way.

She kept herself guarded and it protected her from pain. When she had even let her guard down a fragment with Riley, that ended in disaster and she couldn’t help but think that if things went bad with Spike, which they inevitably would, the fallout would make both the previous world wars look like family squabbles.

“Spike,” she started, “I…”

A knock on the door interrupted her and she almost stomped her foot in frustration. Spike looked just as annoyed too and he yanked open the door to reveal a pink haired runner on the other side.

“You guys are needed,” the girl said, glancing awkwardly between Buffy and Spike. She could sense the tension that was radiating between the two. It felt toxic and made her skin itch. The girl tugged on the hem of her cotton candy T-shirt.

“We’ll be down there in a minute,” Spike bit out from between his clenched teeth.

“Um, you’re kinda like needed right now,” the girl informed him nervously, popping her gum. “Mr. McDonald is getting a little pissy that you’re not down there already.”

“I don’t give a flying bloody fuck if we’re needed. Get your skinny arse back there and tell Mr. McDonald and the rest of those nits they’ll have to wait,” he yelled, his fraying temper rapidly unraveling.

“But…” she tried again.

“Sod off you stupid bint,” he shouted, slamming the door in her stunned face. She scampered off down the hallway as fast as her legs could carry her.

He turned to Buffy, trying to reign himself back in but his face fell and his hopes faded when he was confronted by the disappointment etched on her lovely visage.

“That little display illustrates exactly why we can’t be together,” she told Spike sadly.

“What display?”

“You know what I mean. You’re rude and mean. You’re not a good man!”

“I can be a good man. I can try. Don’t you see, Buffy? I’ve changed from that wanker you met six years ago. I wouldn’t do what I did to you with Glory if I had my time over.”

She exhaled softly. “You lied to me today, Spike. You let me believe that we had…sex. You say I can trust you, but you don’t show it.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” admitted Spike. “I was just pissed off that you did a Harry Houdini on me this morning. But it won’t happen again. I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“Don’t make any more promises to me. I can’t trust you to keep them,” she sighed, walking past him and out of the room. He watched her retreating form with pure longing.

As she turned a corner and disappeared out of his sight, a sudden desperate realization swept through Spike. Having her leave him was like having his beating heart torn from his chest. He couldn’t let her walk out of his life and survive the loss.

Because he loved her. He knew for sure. When she’d looked at him, all sass and fire, he no longer doubted the emotion that he’d spent more than half a decade struggling with.

It was love.

He loved Buffy Summers.

And if there was one thing that Spike Pryce would fight for, it was love.





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