Spike stiffens, his knuckles flex beneath her hand. He makes her let go and presses her wrist to the wall. He feels her heartbeat beneath his palm. It kickstarts. "Yeah, and what could that break be?"
       "Stop it, Spike," she says, teasing and smiling a little. "I might get different ideas of what you want."
       Lilith doesn't mean it, she never does when she flirts with him. Sure, she has thought about it a few times but she is set on that anything she can imagine will be much better than the real thing. Nonetheless, she is a flirt, through and through. She likes playing this sort of game with him. It goes either two ways. Sometimes, he plays along. Pushes a little further. Pretends to buy into the charade. Other times, he stiffens. Pulls away. Makes a snide remark. 
       Spike lets go of her wrist. "Wouldn't hate it, would you? Know you'd pry it apart for anyone these days."
       Lilith isn't stunned by his comment since it's what he expects her to do. It's something he likes—saying things like this—as if he needs to get under others' skin. Lilith is often unfazed, which makes her a recurring target. She likes the way he looks at her; all-venom and rancor. She likes feeling like she deserves it. "Like I did for her?"
       "Ah, you finally say it. Started to think you might've forgotten."
       "Why would I? Dru was spectacular," she licks her teeth, "in every sense of the word."
       Here's the thing. Spike hates Lilith for many reasons but they all come back to his ex-girlfriend. Drusilla, all head in the sky and strangely mesmerizing. Unlike Spike, led by desire rather than love. It was this major difference during their time together that caused their stray. A hundred years of a relationship and he could never change the one fact that Dru would prioritize desire, as much as she truly did love him. 
       Their relationship worked—till she desired someone else. 
       It was a year and a half into knowing each other that Drusilla and Lilith began an affair. What started out as a few kisses after the club would close led to sly knee touches under the table, then misplaced ribbons on the other's bedside table, and perfume scents in the other's clothes. But it wasn't like this all of the time, they were friends more than they were secret lovers. 
       Yet if they had been better friends, Lilith guesses they would've never become lovers. As expected at some point, everything spiraled, the love affair was no longer secret. Spike and Drusilla had come close to separating. But Drusilla never planned to properly leave Spike when she came to spend five months away with Lilith. Because after that, Drusilla left her behind, along with any meaningless fantasies that died there, and she returned to the one who loved her more. So, Lilith went back to where had always been, the sidelines. 
       "She never stopped loving you, you know? When we were together. When she left and came back for you, she meant it."
       Spike grabs her by the collar of her jacket, the leather creases between his fingers. "Oh, I know, Lilith. You weren't worth leaving for."
       Lilith looks down at the ground, the inches of it that separate their feet. She's never let a comment of his get to her this much, but somehow—with his words—she is reminded of her family. She knows it wasn't his intention, but he's right, and she hates it.