He slipped through the Summers house just like the night before. Once more searching for that elusive thing that just summed Buffy up.
Entering her bedroom quietly, Spike looked around in the darkness and gloom for some easily misplaced object of hers – something that had been close to that luscious body.
And there, on top of a shelf, was the stuffed pig.
Spike lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply, the fur tickling his skin as he did so. He licked his lips unconsciously, stroking the fur back with one thumb. It smelt so much of Buffy that for a moment his head swam. The familiar scents that all added up to one beautiful blond haired Slayer.
But so deep and concentrated that it was as though she was there in his arms.
And with a deep groan, he ripped it away from his face and threw it across the room. Turning, he ran from the room and from the house running somewhere, anywhere.
She didn’t care for him like that.
She would never care for him like that.
But how he wished that for just one night he could lie in her arms like Mr. Gordo.