Part Eight

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Spike worries his lower lip between his teeth as they stare at one another. His nostrils are flaring and it has a somewhat hypnotic effect on her. She watches his rapid but steady breathing and wonders what the hell to say next.

Seconds tick by; minutes, maybe hours and still they stare. Buffy closes her mouth, as she’s been gaping for some time now; expecting her mind to go on auto-pilot and direct her through this situation.

How do you continue this conversation? Do you continue? Do you jump into his arms and kiss him silly?

Spike takes the remaining step between them and she is forced to look up to meet his gaze. He reaches a shaky hand to her temple and smoothes back her hair with loving fingers.

“Scared, Slayer?” He whispers, a faint smile playing on his generous mouth. She nods imperceptibly. Well, imperceptible to anyone but Spike. “I won’t hurt you.” His gaze wanders over her hair, down her arm and to her hand as he takes it in his own.

“I know.” She responds quickly and breathily.

“Do you?” He takes her small hand into his own two; the rough skin engulfing her softness. Fifteen trembling digits dance with the current of the moment.

“Yes.” Just below a whisper.

“Why the change of heart?” He looks up from under smoky lashes to meet her wide eyes. His hands continue to caress hers as he reaches for the other one. His thumbs draw small circles on her soft flesh. Suddenly fascinated with the display, she breaks his gaze.

“I…I…it’s hard to pinpoint what…exactly…”

“I’m sure it is.” She looks up and detects the slightest smirk playing on his lips. She purses her own.

“Very funny.” His eyebrows rise in mock protest.

“What?”

“Putting me on the spot.” He chuckles, releasing her hands and stepping back.

“Hey, you started this.”

I started this?”

“Yah, comin’ over last night with your apologies and your…your seduction…”

“Seduction?” She laughs, he smiles.

“Well, yeah. Using your feminine wiles on me, knowing how I feel an’ all. S’ not right, s’ what it is.” He tries to fight the smile forming on his lips.

“Ah! You pig!” She slaps him on the arm playfully and he feigns being mortally wounded. Buffy reaches out and tickles his abdomen and he quickly fights her off, retaliating with some of his own. He grabs her and pulls her into his chest, their faces mere inches apart.

“Say it again, luv.” All mirth is suddenly gone from him and she sees the desperation behind his waning smile. His breath is quickening. She places her hands against his chest; fingers splayed across the smooth planes. She looks deep into the well of his blue eyes.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Spike.”

His eyes close. His expression is almost one of pain as his brow wrinkles. Buffy watches the emotions swim across his face until he lowers his forehead to hers and takes deep, unnecessary breaths.

“Summers.” He breathes the word. “I-“

His next thought is broken as the doorbell rings. Buffy jumps and then laughs at her own trepidation. They smile at one another and she turns towards the front door, but his arm slipping around her waist stops her. He pulls her in close, leaning over her shoulder as her back presses into his chest, and lowers his lips to her ear. His other hand comes around to gently turn her face sideways.

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