Chapter Three
*~*

“You’re pathetic!”

It wasn’t the first thing that came to mind.  No, she had to bite back those thoughts, shove them down and stake them until they dusted.  No way in hell was she going to stand there and let him know that the new little ache in her chest felt far too much like compassion for whatever heartbreak had led him to this.

Spike’s face closed off, eyes still moist but gaze hard as steel.  “I’m pathetic?”  He seemed to vibrate as he moved toward her.  “Look at you!  Tell me, Slayer, how’s it feel knowing you’re not even worth a farewell shag?”

Her fist shot out so fast she didn’t even realize she’d moved until Spike growled from the ground at her feet, holding his nose.

Buffy didn’t wait around to hear any more.  Mystery solved, it was time for a hasty exit.  She rushed past him before he could struggle to his feet, hurrying away from the park and the vampire whose words, while not exactly true, still hit too close for comfort.

She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.  Spike was on her heels faster than she could escape, alternately swearing at her and sputtering all sorts of semi-coherent insults that sounded as though he meant them for somebody darker and deader than her.  Buffy stopped and Spike ploughed into her as she spun around to face him.

“Could you shut your mouth for once in your worthless existence?”  She shoved him backward when it looked unlikely that he would remove himself from her personal space and crossed her arms over her chest.  “You know, I should have done it when I had the chance.”

“What, staked me?” Spike seemed to wilt before her eyes, the snarky, irate vampire morphing into a slouched, trembling creature.  “Yeah, you should have.”

Buffy threw her hands in the air. “Stop it!  God, Spike, this isn’t you!”

Wait—what?

Spike’s head snapped up and his eyes studied her face.  “And what would you know about me?” he said after a long moment.

Buffy sighed, her anger fading as fast as Spike’s bravado.  “I know you aren’t a quitter.”

Welcome to Bizarro-World.  Buffy Summers, vampire grief counsellor since 1999.

He chuckled, but there was no humour in it.  “Yeah, right,” he said, slumping back against the wall.  “Not quitting’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”

Buffy watched him close his eyes and jam his hands into his duster’s pockets.  It struck her that for all he attempted to convince her, and probably himself, that he would rather die than be without Drusilla, really he just didn’t want to be alone.  Maybe, just maybe, the presence of a supposed enemy — and were they, really?  It seemed they had stopped trying to kill each other somewhere along the way — was preferable to suffering in solitude.  No matter how stupidly he tried to go about it.

There was that twinge again, that annoying little wiggle in her stomach that wanted her to say things like I understand and let’s be miserable together.   She wanted to take that urge and drown it in a bucket of holy water, because she so didn’t need a tagalong, mopey vampire with a slayer-related death wish dragging her already dismal mood down even further.

And yet...

She turned and leaned back against the building.  “I never got around to begging,” Buffy said, the words slipping past her lips before she could stop herself from speaking.

One corner of Spike’s mouth turned upward.  “Glad one of us has a few brain cells left.”

“I thought...”  She stopped when Spike opened his eyes to look at her, feeling her cheeks start to burn. 

“Thought what?”

She couldn’t answer.  A stab of fear lanced through her belly, and it wasn’t for the vampire beside her, but the thought of what she was about to do.  Misery might love company but Buffy had to draw the line somewhere, and a heart-to-heart chat with Spike?   Yeah, so not happening. 

She started to move away from the building, but Spike’s hand closed around her wrist before she could finish her step.  Same move, different grip.  Not a restraint this time but a wordless plea, and her rebellious hurting heart thumped an answer despite her misgivings. 

His eyes met hers and held.  She could see her reflection in his pupils, he stood so close, but it was the reflection of her own inner turmoil staring back at her through eyes more alive than any vampire deserved that changed her mind.  She looked down at her wrist and his calloused fingers, nails partially coated in chipped black polish.  The hand opened, releasing her, and she returned her gaze to those eyes, tossed her head toward the path, and let him follow her.

She watched him sidelong as they walked awkwardly together in some twisted evening stroll.  A woman passed them, smiling in the way people did when they wanted to show they understood the problem even though they had no freaking clue.  Might as well have patted her on the head and told her to cheer up, Buffy thought, for all the good it would do.

“What’s that?”

“I said, I hate those stupid fake smiles, like they get it, you know?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him flash grin.  “All the pity party’s likely gonna get is eaten.”

“No!  No eating!”  A pair of joggers stumbled at her shouted words, and she grabbed Spike’s arm to haul him off the path.

“Just joking, Slay—ow!”

Buffy pushed him up against the half wall bordering the path, one fist clutching the lapels of his duster, the other balled and ready to strike. 

“I mean it, Spike,” she said through clenched teeth, feeling the familiar tickle of adrenaline pouring through her.  “Don’t you dare.”

Spike raised his hands in the air, and though she felt his body tense against hers, he made no move to fight her hold on him.  He stood there, frozen, breathing—breathing?—hard, looking not at her but down between them.  The lingering smirk from his attempt at humour slipped away and his eyes widened slightly, so slightly she barely noticed as his gaze traveled up, up, up to meet hers.

Wow.

Electricity jolted through her, zinging down her spine, up the back of her neck, radiating out along every nerve until her fingers tingled, toes turned numb and she couldn’t breathe.  Something made the Earth stop spinning, made Spike’s fingers move in slow motion as they dragged across her cheek, blazing a trail of heat on her face and stirring a surge of desire in her belly.  She flattened her hand against his chest, head swimming, lungs struggling for air.

“Buffy...” 

His voice, low and raspy, spoke her name in a whisper.  Fingers, her fingers, uncurled from their fist and reached out, traced along his bottom lip.  Half-closed eyes levelled her with a smouldering gaze while a tentative hand slid beneath her jacket, brushing the small of her back before pulling her impossibly closer.

When his lips touched hers the world exploded into motion, spinning in a dizzying spiral at mach three and bringing back the distant sounds of the fair and the ocean and the pounding feet of joggers on the path.  Reality washed over her like a frigid wave and she ripped herself away from Spike and the kiss that could not have just happened.

But the lingering taste of cigarettes and alcohol on her lips denied her that bit of untruth, and she stared at the equally startled-looking vampire still backed up against the wall.

“What the hell did you just do?”

*~*