Three


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She had two handfuls of black leather and it would take only the smallest effort on her part to send him flying – but suddenly, she found she just didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore. He seemed to sense her sudden change of heart because he went deathly still and she could feel his eyes boring into the top of her head. And standing there, hands gripping his coat – holding him close – she felt a sudden wave of something that might have been longing.

She made two mistakes in the next few seconds. The first was that she suddenly softened, her grip on him loosening, all of the anger seeping from her. Her second mistake was daring to meet his eyes. When she met his bright, enquiring gaze, she could not look away, drawn to him by that same look of muted pain that he must be able to see in her eyes. A moment later – maybe longer, she didn’t know – and they were kissing.

It was as hard and as furious as their fight had been and she tightened her grip on him once more, kissing him back roughly. Her body began to sing with the first touch of his lips and she found herself leaning in closer, her body straining towards his helplessly. His hands locked around her upper arms and he tugged her close, his mouth moving over hers hungrily, possessively. And she succumbed – let herself succumb – to him.



His kiss grew gentler and she let herself relish the taste of him – so well remembered, so sorely missed. Her fingers relinquished their tight grip on the leather of his coat and she moved her hands to rest lightly on his shoulders, drawing him imperceptibly closer.

This kiss was like nothing they had ever shared before, searing right through her – but she could not stop. He shifted his hand from her arm hesitantly and cupped the back of her neck, holding her close, his fingers twined in her hair in a more intimate gesture than she would ever have allowed before, even in her more tolerant moods. And that was when she felt the change between them – or rather, the change in her. She wanted nothing more than for him to keep kissing her in this soft, gentle way – and the thought startled her so much that she jerked back, meeting his surprised look with one of his own.

His expression softened at what must have been a look of panic on her face and he reached out to brush his fingers over her cheek. That was his mistake, because the gesture instantly reminded her of what she had walked in on. She took a jerky step back and he drew his hand back slowly, bewildered as to her sudden retreat.

“You kissed Anya,” she whispered, unable to summon back her anger.

“It was a mistake,” he replied quietly.

“Did you like kissing her?”

“Buffy…”

“I mean it. Are you attracted to her?”

He tilted his head, watching her intently.

“Do you want me to be?”

“That isn’t what I asked,” she huffed and, unnerved by the way he was looking at her, she turned her back on him, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.



Silence filled the shop for several moments before she felt him move and sensed him hovering close behind.

“Buffy,” he murmured, his voice a beckoning whisper as his hands landed on either shoulder.

“It hurt,” she blurted out, the words coming easily while she did not have to face him. As soon as they were out though, she stiffened – perhaps also as a reaction to his own sudden tensing – and her eyes went wide.

“Buffy.”

Before he could say anything else, she broke out of his grasp, determined to flee and save some face – but it was not to be. Spike caught her by the arm, spinning her back round to face him, his expression serious.

“We need to talk.”

She raised wide eyes to his and struggled for a split second against his grip.

“I can’t do this.”

“We need to.”

“There is no ‘we’,” she got out weakly and he raised an eyebrow in disbelief. She stayed silent, still, waiting for him to reply, but he never did. He watched her for an unnervingly long time before he dipped his head, bringing his lips to a halt only inches from hers.

“Are you sure about that?” he whispered.

She had closed her eyes almost instinctively with his closeness and cursed herself for it now.

“Spike.”

“Tell me to leave you alone,” he murmured, his breath cool against her lips.



She could only bear it for a few seconds longer and then she found herself leaning in to press her lips to his. He let out a little sigh against her mouth and slid an arm around her waist, drawing her close. He pulled back far too soon though and just looked at her, studying the lines of her face.

“Tell me to go and I’ll go,” he murmured and she threw him a troubled look.

“I can’t.”

She wriggled free of his embrace and wrapped her arms around herself, eyes on the floor.

“Buffy, talk to me,” Spike coaxed, one hand brushing over her shoulder, and she raised her eyes to his reluctantly.

“I… I said I wouldn’t do this anymore,” she murmured, “Wouldn’t use you.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” he asked, a challenge in his voice.

“I can’t be what you want, Spike.”

“What makes you so sure?” he countered, stopping her when she went to turn away from him in exasperation, “I just want you, Buffy.”

He was giving her that intense look – the one that always guaranteed to turn her insides to mush – and she wished she could bring herself to break eye contact. It was hard enough as it was, being this close to him, the siren song of temptation working its spell over her.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

“Scared of what?” he asked quietly, brushing a hand over her hair.

“I can’t… I can’t feel this way again, Spike. I can’t. It’ll break me if…”

She trailed off helplessly, pained eyes locked on his.



He said nothing, only let out a tiny shush of comfort, his fingers trailing over her neck. When he leant forward, his breath brushing over her temple, she closed her eyes and leant into his touch.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmured, his hand skimming over her arm, “You’re safe with me.”

And the scariest thing was – she believed him. He pressed one daring kiss to her neck and then his lips met hers again and she sank against him, arms twining around him as she lost herself in him.