For another, the longer he was alone with Buffy, the more difficult it became for him to remember most of her body was off-limits to him.
Buffy had happily found her way back to the dartboard, and Spike had again taken a booth, contenting himself to watch her. She was amazing, more than beautiful—vibrant.
"I see you brought your muse with you again," Rupert Giles said with a half-smirk as he slipped in across from Spike in the booth.
"You know, Rupes, you can tease me and question my sanity all you bloody like, but that isn't going to change what the chit is. Besides, if I was going to make up a fantasy about someone being a muse, I wouldn't add stupid rules."
"Rules?" Giles asked with a frown.
Spike sighed. He'd never been one for discussing the personal details of his sex life, but this situation already had him all turned around. "Apparently muses have to remain virgins. Eternally."
For several moments, Rupert was completely silent. Then, he blinked several times and said, "Will, I really do believe it's time for you to seek some sort of professional help."
"I haven't gone all barmy—not where this is concerned, anyway. Buffy's a gorgeous, desirable, otherworldly being, and not being able to touch her is driving me around the sodding bend. It's an exercise in frustration is what it is."
"Do you want to know what I think?"
"You think I'm a loony," Spike replied, wagging his finger at Giles.
"Well, yes, but more specifically, I think you're still trying to process losing Drusilla. You saw her as your 'muse,' and now you've bestowed that title on this new girl—only at the same time, you feel guilty, as if is this is somehow a form of disloyalty to Drusilla, so you've imposed this no sex rule on yourself."
"I don't bloody care about Drusilla. The bint—and all her sodding lovers—can go take themselves a one-way trip to hell for all I care these days. Yeah, Dru broke my heart, and yeah, it took me a while to get over it, but I am now. I want to be with Buffy, only I can't be with Buffy because she's a muse for Christ's sake! In less than a month's time, she's going to be out of my life, and while she is here, I have to control everything I do around her, because if I don't, I'll have forced her into a mortal life."
"William, calm down," Giles said, Spike's adamant declarations making him worry more. "You know none of this can be real. Buffy is a very lovely and charming young woman, but she is just as human as you and I are."
"No, she isn't—and I'll bloody prove it to you." Spike turned away from Giles. "Oi, Buffy! Come here for a moment, pet, would you?"
Without hesitation, Buffy left her game and joined Spike and Giles. She stood at the edge of their booth, her hands gripping the table. "Yes?"
"Tell Rupes what you are, pet."
Buffy frowned, uncertainty in her eyes as she looked between the two seated men. "Spike, I'm not supposed to…"
"It's all right, luv. He can keep a secret."
Buffy decided she could trust Spike. After all, he'd never given her a reason not to. "I'm his muse," she admitted, softly enough so only Spike and Giles could hear her.
At Buffy's declaration, Giles whipped off his glasses. "William, have you honestly gone as far as to convince this poor girl of your delusions as well?"
"Spike's not crazy!" Buffy yelled, then blushed as she realized she'd gotten the attention of most of the pub.
Spike took her hand as he slid over, allowing her to move next to him into the booth. "Shh…no need to get upset, luv," Spike said softly, kissing her cheek. "Rupert's just worried about me, is all."
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, you don't have to worry about him, because he's not crazy, and I am a muse. And I'm doing a good job, too. He's writing again." Buffy smiled brightly at the last part, clearly quite pleased with herself.
"You're doing a wonderful job, pet," Spike assured her, rubbing her shoulder. "You're right inspiring."
"This is…you can't honestly expect me to believe any of this," Giles said, waving his glasses at the two blonds across from him. "Either you're both feeding into some sort of shared delusion or you're having a lark by playing a trick on an old man."
"No delusions and no tricks," Spike replied.
"I'm sorry, but there's nothing you can possibly say to convince me of any of this," Giles said as he placed his glasses back on his nose. "Magical beings such as muses simply do not exist." He picked up his pint and took a drink before he began to cough and sputter. He slammed the glass back onto the table. "What the bloody hell? This isn't lager. It tastes like…"
"Vinegar," Buffy said, one eyebrow arched. "I changed it with my magical powers that don't exist."
Spike tried his best not to laugh, though he wasn't particularly successful. "Buffy, kitten, change Rupert's drink back now. You made your point."
Buffy sighed and waved her hand. Tentatively, Giles sniffed his drink, then brought it to his mouth for a taste. "It's…it's lager again."
"Well, yeah. You just sat here and watched me change it back," Buffy said, rolling her eyes.
"You…and it…and you're a…" Giles stammered, staring wide-eyed at Buffy.
"A muse," Buffy supplied for him.
"Right. A muse," Giles replied. Then promptly fainted.
Buffy gasped. "Spike! Vinegar doesn't hurt humans, does it? Did I break him?"
"No, luv, he's just a bit shocked is all. 'Sides, the old man always was a bit of a drama queen." He nudged Buffy out of the booth. "Come on, help me lift him up. I think he needs some fresh air."
When Spike and Buffy had Giles propped up between them, Spike craned his neck back towards the other patrons. "He's just had a bit too much to drink. I'll see that he gets home."
The publican nodded in response, and Buffy and Spike helped Giles outside of the pub and to a bench not far away. Slowly, he began to come to, blinking as he did.
"Where…what…?"
"You had a case of the vapors, mate," Spike said with a teasing grin. "Buffy and I brought you out for some fresh air."
"Buffy. Right, your…oh dear lord."
"Don't go passin' out on me again," Spike said. "Carrying you this far was hard enough."
"I can carry him farther," Buffy piped up. "I'm very strong."
"I just can't…" Giles took off his glasses again and blinked rapidly. "This is simply impossible."
"A few days ago, I would've said the same thing," Spike replied. "But Buffy's the genuine article."
"However did this happen?" Giles asked.
"I don't know," Spike answered with a shrug. "I guess whoever's up there thought I was important enough for a little divine intervention."
"You're very important, Spike," Buffy said, her hand coming up to stroke his arm. "And you're very talented. I've never worked with a poet like you before."
"Thank you, kitten," Spike said softly. "Means a lot, coming from you."
Giles observed the couple silently for a moment, his heart going out to them. If what Spike had said back in the pub was true, and Buffy really was going to have to leave soon, then they were both in for a lot of pain. It was clear from their faces that Spike's feelings were not unrequited. Having to say good-bye could very likely devastate them both.
Giles stood, clearing his throat as he did. "If you don't mind, I believe I'm going to retire for the evening. I'm still having a bit of a time processing all of this."
"All right. I'll talk to you soon, mate."
"Good night, Mr. Giles," Buffy added. "Sorry about the whole vinegar thing."
Giles gave her a soft smile. "It's quite all right, my dear. It takes a bit of a shock like that to drive anything into this thick head of mine. Have a good night, the both of you."
With a nod, Giles walked off to leave Spike and Buffy alone again.
"Ready to call it a night, pet?" Spike asked.
Buffy slipped her hand into Spike's. "I am. Let's go home."
Spike couldn't help the pang in his heart as he wished it could truly be their home.
As soon as Buffy got back to his flat, they'd wasted no time falling into bed, though it was there that the desperate nature of their touches seemed to end. Spike wanted her—the hard, heavy pulse of his cock against her skin was proof enough of that—but for the moment, he was content to hold her.
Maybe it made him a bit of a ponce, but he couldn't find the need to care. In a few short weeks, Buffy wouldn't be there for him to hold anymore, and that bothered him more than the knowledge that he would never truly be able to make love to her.
"You're bloody gorgeous, you know," Spike said, his voice low and rumbling. He kissed the crown of her head, his hand ghosting along the curve of her bare hip. "Every time I look at you, I'm in awe."
"So are you," Buffy told him softly. "There are these statues in the Great Hall, back where I live. I know from now on, I will always think of you whenever I see them."
"There's no way I can see you again after this month is over, is there?"
"No. I'm here for one assignment and one assignment only. It's the rules."
Spike let out a long sigh. "I don't like those bloody rules."
Buffy was quiet for a moment before she whispered, "Neither do I."
Spike brought his hand up to stroke her hair, luxuriating in the feel of the silky strands. Her hair was like none other he'd ever touched before, softer than anything he'd ever known. "Is this common, what's going on between us? Has it ever happened before?"
"It's not common, no," Buffy replied with a shake of her head. "Those we're sent to inspire, well, they often develop an infatuation for their muses, but as far as feelings ever going both ways? No, it doesn't normally happen. Not that it's never happened, but it's…it's not common. We're not supposed to feel these sorts of things, and honestly, I can't even figure out why I am. What is it about you that makes me forget who I am?"
"I don't know, luv, but I wish I didn't."
Buffy pulled away from him sharply, hurt in her eyes. "How can you say that?"
"No! Buffy, I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart, I swear it. But…" Spike sighed again. "When you have to leave, it's going to hurt you. I'm going to cause you to hurt. I don't want to do that to you, Buffy."
Her expression softened again, and Buffy moved back into his arms, then cupped his cheek. "I would rather have a moment in your arms, my sweet poet, than an eternity of never knowing your touch."
Spike swallowed hard, tears forming in his eyes despite his mind screaming for them not to fall. He'd dreamt of this, of someone who would look at him the way Buffy did, and yet now that he had it, he knew it was still really no more than a dream. He could only taste her, never truly have her. "I…" He stopped, his jaw growing tight. "This isn't bloody fair."
"I know." Buffy's hand dropped from his face and reached down to grasp hold of his hand. "I want you to promise me something, okay?"
Spike looked at her skeptically. "Tell me what it is first."
"When I'm gone, I want you to find someone."
Immediately, Spike was shaking his head. "Buffy, I don't think I can do that. Not after… There's not another woman like you, luv."
"Spike, please. Humans aren't meant to be alone, and well, there's so much love in you. I could feel it even before I got to meet you. You need to be able to give that love to someone, someone who can accept it in a way I can't."
"She'd never be you, Buffy."
"But maybe she could make you happy."
Spike didn't want to talk about some fictitious woman. He didn't want to talk—or think—about any woman who wasn't the one in his arms. And how could he possibly settle for anyone less than Buffy now that he knew what it felt like to be with a woman like her?
He didn't give her the promise she'd asked for. He couldn't. So instead, he kissed her and made her forget for the time being that she'd even asked.
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