"Growing heirlooms, Watcher?"
Horrified, Giles watched as sharp fangs sliced the taut skin and Spike savored the fruit's meaty interior, red juice spilling forth.
"Aw. That your only one?" asked Spike, wiping his chin. "Such a shame. Tasted sweet as she smelled."
"She?" he asked, voice cracking on the single syllable.
The vampire grinned, his mouth full of salacious promise.
"Buffy!" His own cry waking him, Giles fumbled for his glasses. His shoulders sagged in relief; he could see clearly again. The spell was broken. Spike held no thrall over Buffy. Now or ever. Of that Giles would make certain.