Buffy's days and nights became increasingly filled with Spike. She thought of him almost all the time, telling herself it was normal for people who spent all their time together. Her morning meditations on "to stake or not to stake," gradually turned into contemplations of the lines of his body as he relaxed in sleep, the arch of his eyebrows, the shape of his lips. She thought of it as the predator's preoccupation with the prey, or as "beating him at his own game;" she didn't recognize her feelings for what they were. Until the morning he kissed her.
She hadn't been able to get to sleep after they came home near dawn. For some reason the vampire hours she was keeping were beginning to irk her as the summer wore on, and she was restless. She rolled over and looked at Spike. The dim light from the windows in the next room fell on his face, highlighting his cheekbones but leaving his eyes in shadow, and shining on his platinum hair. On impulse, Buffy reached out and traced the line of his jaw with a feather-light touch.
In a sudden movement, his hand caught hers, and his eyes opened. They stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time. Slowly, Spike turned his head and pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist, and then let go of her hand. She pulled it in quickly. "Good night!" she said, and rolled over to fake somnolence.
Spike cursed mentally. What the hell was going on with him? He had been prepared, as usual, for today to be the day she struck him with the stake. He hadn't been prepared for her gentle touch on his cheek, or for his own response to it. He remembered her tender expression when he had opened his eyes. His new plan of keeping her off balance did seem to be working; he just hadn't been expecting to lose his own equilibrium as well! Spike sighed and tried to go back to sleep.
Breakfast the next evening was tense. Buffy woke up and, ignoring her usual ritual of Spike contemplation, poured her cereal. He got up and reached for the shot glass, but it wasn't there. He looked at her questioningly.
"I've been thinking," she said, carefully avoiding his eyes. "We've been here for how many weeks now? Never mind. But every night we go to the park, we get attacked, and I don't let you kill the mean people because you get my blood instead. That doesn't make sense. Why should I bleed myself every night, just to save the lives of people who make a habit of hurting others?"
Spike realized that her last comment could apply to himself just as well as to any of the park people, and he felt an unfamiliar emotion: shame. He sat down heavily. "Listen, Slayer, I -"
"I'm not finished!" she said. She took a few bites of cereal while he waited patiently. She chewed and swallowed, then said, "This deal isn't working anymore. I've decided to leave."
Spike felt like she'd punched him in the gut. "Uh, where do you plan to go?"
"I don't know yet, but I think I've drained every last drop of fun out of living with a vampire, feeding him every night, and oh, God, I'm even using vampiric metaphors! Plus I've read every book in the place!"
Spike's eyebrows lifted. "I doubt that," he said. There was a long silence, while he considered the plan that had been niggling in the back of his mind for the past couple of days while he lay awake wishing he could get her out of his mind so he could sleep. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if he hadn't known that her sleep patterns were disturbed, too. He flattered himself into thinking it was because of him, but in truth he didn't know how she felt about him. The power game they had started playing had grown and metamorphosed - and backfired.
"So, tonight when we go out, you have my permission to feed if you want to. You're just not getting any more of mine!" Buffy broke the silence. His answer stunned her.
"No."
"What did you say?"
"No. I'm not feeding on anyone."
"Are you nuts? You'll die without a regular supply of blood!"
"And you don't want me to die?" His tone made her look up, into his dark eyes. She said nothing, and looked away again. He crossed over to where she was sitting, and very gently lifted her face so he could see her eyes. He caressed her cheek tenderly. "Buffy," he whispered.
Her eyes widened at his use of her name for the first time. She stood up and tried to back away. "Um, Spike, I -"
He didn't let her escape. Instead, he leaned down and softly kissed her lips. His quick reflexes blocked the punch she aimed at his chin, and he planted a kiss on her fist. Gently he lowered her back into the chair and sat down next to her. "Buffy, I think it's time for us to discuss our options."
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