For The Best?


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When his arms wound round her and tugged her against him, she sagged against him helplessly, her heart singing with a mixture of joy and sweet agony. He may not love her anymore but he was not cruel enough to deny her this, her last chance to taste him, to give herself to him. She twined her arms around him, one hand gripping the lapel of his duster as she pushed herself against him, desperately striving for closeness. His hands cupped her cheeks and then buried in her hair and she let out a strangled sob against him, jerking back from him. Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks now, blurring his features.

“Don’t cry, love,” he murmured, his voice husky and low.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his hands cupping her cheeks again as he brushed a thumb over her tear-stained cheeks.

“Don’t cry.”

She swallowed back her sob and gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in close again and meeting his lips in a soft kiss. He twined one arm around her, one hand still cupping her cheek, and tugged her close again, his belt digging into her stomach.

She kissed him back desperately, pouring all of her pain into the kiss, urging him closer and closer. He tasted just as she had remembered and when she ran her hand down his back, he felt just the same too. He deepened their kiss and she moaned helplessly, both hands slipping under his coat now, needing to touch him. She tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans and slipped one hand underneath, splaying her fingers on his cool skin. She felt him gasp but then his mouth was on hers again, soft lips urging hers apart as he dipped his tongue inside.



When one hesitant hand ran down her side, she felt the tears threatening to return and clung to him even tighter. He pulled away, breathing just as heavily as her but she couldn’t bring herself to move away, her forehead resting against his chin.

“Please,” she pleaded, hands gripping him tightly.

She didn’t care that she was begging- she just wanted him. Wanted him to work that old magic and take away her pain.

“Shh,” he murmured softly, his breath brushing her forehead before he dipped his head and caught her mouth again in a hungry kiss. She didn’t realise they had moved until she felt the sofa against the backs of her knees and she broke their kiss for a brief few seconds to sink onto it, catching his hand and drawing him with her.

She lay back on the sofa, watching him with fearful eyes as he settled beside her, blue eyes studying her. She closed her eyes against that piercing look, praying to every god she knew that he wouldn’t get up and leave her now. She didn’t think her heart would survive if he did. She tensed when she felt him move but he only shifted closer, one hand ghosting over her face and down over her arm.

“Look at me,” he urged quietly and she forced her eyes open.

He was watching her with that look of awe she remembered so well as he traced his fingers over her inner arm. He looked like he wanted to say something else but then he shook his head slightly and lowered his head to hers again, kissing her gently. Well, they always had been better at communicating with actions rather than words.



She guided his duster from his shoulders and ran her hands over his back, moulding him against her as she kissed him harder. His mouth dropped to her neck and she gasped, hands slipping under his T-shirt again. Why was it only him that could make her feel alive like this? He was the only one who had ever made her body sing in this maddening way. Even if her heart was breaking with every moment in his arms, knowing this could be the last time.

With that thought, she guided his mouth back to hers, needing the reassurance of his kiss. When she broke away for breath, his hands worked their way under her light top and she wriggled, trying to help him as he stripped it off. He threw it to the floor and then stopped to look at her for a long moment.

“Spike,” she whispered, drawing his eyes back to hers, pleading him silently to touch her.
He kissed her again, gently, as his hands moved over her skin with feather-light touches. And all she could think was more, more, more. She arched against him, urging him closer, gasping with his gentle touches. One hand found its way to his belt and she struggled with it one-handed, her other hand buried in his hair, holding his mouth to hers.
There was no way she could get enough of the taste of him.

When she managed to tug his belt off and her hand went to the zip of his jeans, their passion went into overload. They shimmied out of their clothes as quickly as possible and then it was just them, poised, silent. She thought the tears might return again but forced them back as he kissed her softly and slid home.



She woke to the silky feel of warm sheets on her body and couldn’t help but smile softly. She opened her eyes and her smile faded as her eyes moved to the figure next to her. They had made it to his bed after that first time on the sofa and he was now curled up under the covers beside her, his head resting on his arm. She felt her heart leap at the sight of him and couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching one of the loose curls on his head. He shifted in his sleep and she froze, fearing that she had woken him. She should have known better than that though: Spike slept, of course, like the dead.

Looking at him now in the soft morning light, she knew that she was never going to be free of this feeling. But she would not burden him with it. She would go away, head onto San Francisco just like she had planned, and leave him to get on with the life he so obviously preferred. With the thought, her tears almost returned but she wiped them away quickly. She didn’t want her last moments with him to be tinged with sadness. She just wanted to remember everything about his taste, his smell, the feel of his skin and the texture of his hair.

She didn’t know how she forced herself out of his bed but she did, dressing quickly but lingering in the doorway, drinking in the sight of him. Finally, she forced herself away, letting herself out of the suite quietly.



After a quick shower and a change of clothes, she packed up her meagre belongings and found her way to Angel’s office. Despite the early hour, the vampire was up and she gave him a weak smile as she moved into the room. He took a step forward but then paused and she knew in that moment that he had smelt Spike on her. Well, at least this would go a bit easier.

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” she murmured with a sad smile.

“You’re leaving already?” he asked in obvious surprise.

“Yeah,” she answered, avoiding his gaze, “I… Well, I came to see… and I saw. It’s time I got going.”

“Buffy, are you sure?” he asked and she raised her eyes to his.

She nodded, swallowing hard.

“Yeah. I mean, they’ll be waiting for me in San Francisco already,” she lied.

Angel said nothing but nodded and she smiled sadly.

“Well, erm, I should get going.”

“Yeah.”

He stepped forward and placed a hand on each shoulder, dark eyes taking her in.

“It was good to see you, Buffy.”

“You too.”

“You take care.”

She nodded, forcing a weak smile. He held onto her for a moment longer but then released her and she moved towards the door. He followed her, holding the door for her as she lingered.

Taking a deep breath, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out towards him.

“Can you… can you give this to Spike?”

“Buffy, I don’t know. I mean-“

“Please. It’s just a… Can you give it to him?”

Hesitantly, he took the piece of paper and held it listlessly, glancing at it before turning his gaze on her.

“Goodbye, Angel,” she murmured, some of that old affection creeping into her heart. She leant up and pressed a kiss to his cheek and then stepped back.

“Goodbye, Buffy.”

She gave him another weak smile and then turned, making her way over to the elevators, forcing herself to keep going.

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A/N: Okay, please don't hate me and keep reading... you know I'm not going to let her get away with it.