Now, as he reclined against the pillows with a very naked Buffy stretched out on the end of the bed, watching him from her position propped up on her elbow, he decided he'd made the right choice.
They'd fallen into an easy routine over the past week, spending their time locked away in his flat, ignoring anything other than each other. They touched and tasted until they were spent, then Spike would turn to his writing, churning out poems at a rate that shocked him. The longer he was with Buffy, the more the words seemed to flow, and he knew soon he'd have enough to send a manuscript to his publisher.
He tried not to dwell on what would happen once he did.
"You're cute when you write."
Spike looked up, the sound of Buffy's voice surprising him. She was usually silent when he was working, not wanting to disturb him from doing what she was sent there to help him with. "Huh?"
"When you write—you're cute." Buffy paused for a moment, then started again. "Well, you're always cute, but when you're writing you get this look of concentration on your face that I just love. I like it almost as much as the look you get right before you finish with your wanking."
He chuckled, though coming from her, the compliment touched him. "Thank you, luv. You're right adorable yourself, you know."
Buffy smiled at him brightly. "Thank you."
Spike turned back to his poem, adding the last couple of lines from his head before handing the paper to Buffy. "Tell me what you think."
She took the paper and started to read, though soon her face turned bright pink. "Spike! This one's…" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's about me naked."
Spike couldn't help but smile at her. "Yeah, it is. You're bloody gorgeous, you know. You're like poetry even before I put it into words."
She blushed more. "Can you actually put this in a book?"
"Well, yeah. Censorship isn't quite what it was the last time you were here. Would you rather I didn't send it in for publishing?"
"It's a very good poem, Spike," Buffy told him. "I just, um…"
Spike suddenly realized what was wrong with her. "Made you hot, didn't it, kitten?"
Buffy looked up shyly and nodded.
Spike put his pen and papers to the side. "Then come here, baby, and let me take care of that for you."
With a grin of her own, Buffy crawled up the bed to Spike.
She was spread out in his bed, her long, golden hair fanned out around her, her tan skin glistening, flushed. She was gorgeous, more than he ever thought he'd be allowed to touch, and he relished the taste of her as he swiped his tongue back and forth over her moist folds.
He wanted to keep her. He wanted to hide her away with him, wanted to make it so she never had to leave. It would be easy, he knew, just to claim her body and make her have to stay, and he'd be lying if he said the idea had never entered into his mind.
It would be so easy when she was like this, when she was on the edge and desperate for his touch. He could take her now, slide inside of her before she even realized it.
But he couldn't. He could never take advantage of her like that, could never take her away from the world she wanted to be a part of in order to selfishly make her a part of his.
She wasn't meant to be his forever, and as difficult as it was, he made himself accept that. He had to savor the taste of her now, commit every sound, every sensation, to memory, since it would be all he'd ever have.
And once she was gone, it would be all he'd have to keep him warm.
"I don't understand this. What is a spam?"
"Spam is, um, a sort of canned meat thing, luv," Spike explained.
Buffy's brow furrowed. "I still don't understand. Why is that very ugly woman trying to feed it to those people? And why did those men in the strange hats start singing?"
Spike chuckled, knowing he'd never be able to explain Monty Python to Buffy. "It's supposed to be funny."
"I think it's just strange," she said with a pout.
"C'mere," Spike said, pulling Buffy up from her place beside him on the couch and over so she was straddling his lap. "You gonna be all pouty on me now?"
Buffy looked up at him and tried to keep pouting, though Spike could see the corners of her lips twitch with a repressed smile.
"I bet I can take care of that pout," Spike said, a wolfish grin on his face, before he reached out and began to tickle her sides.
Buffy squealed, wriggling to get away from his fingers. "Spike!" she gasped out between laughs.
Mirth twinkled in his eyes as he continued to tickle her, and Buffy kept squirming until she broke free and ran off out of the living room, Spike close on her heels.
Had she wanted to, Buffy could've gotten away easily. Not only could she run faster than any human, she could also simply teleport away. Instead, she let Spike catch her, peals of laughter tumbling forth from her as he grabbed her around the waist and began to tickle her again.
"Trying to escape, were you?" Spike asked, lifting her up off of her feet.
"Yes! That…that tickles!"
"That would be the point, sweets," Spike told her. He spun her around so she was cradled in his arms. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest heaving from exertion, and Spike couldn't think of a time when she'd looked more beautiful.
The words came from him before he had any chance of stopping them.
"I love you."
Buffy stared, gaping, before she scrambled to get out of his arms. Once to her feet, she turned to run off, but Spike grabbed her arm. "Buffy…kitten, wait, please. I didn't mean to just blurt that out."
She turned, and Spike could see tears in her eyes. "You didn't mean it then?"
"No, I did. I did mean it, Buffy. I just…" He dropped her arm and ran his hand through his hair. "It upset you."
"You can't love me, Spike," Buffy said, shaking her head as she started crying harder. "You can't love me, because I can't stay, and if you love me, but then I'm gone, you'll be alone, and I don't want you to be alone."
"I know that. But I can't help but love you, Buffy. You're…god, you're amazing. Being with you has been like…seeing the sun for the first time. Like my life has always been dark, and then suddenly, here you are and it's light. I can't do anything but love you. It's not possible."
Buffy said nothing. She only stared at him, tears running down her cheeks. Spike took a step closer to her and cupped her face in his hands, brushing those tears away with his thumbs. "Hey, now. It's all right. I don't regret falling in love with you, Buffy. Even when I know I'm going to lose you, it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I've gotten to spend time with a woman who makes me feel things some people never get a chance to know. How can that ever be anything but a gift?"
Buffy made a small sobbing noise before she threw her arms around Spike and held him tightly. "I love you, too. I love you so much, Spike. I never truly understood the words I inspired people to write until I met you."
Her declaration brought tears to his eyes as well, and he peppered the top of her head with kisses, keeping her wrapped in his arms.
After several moments, she looked up, her gaze meeting his. "Spike, I…" She paused, taking a deep breath to keep herself together. "I want you to know I'll never forget you. For the rest of eternity, I'll see your face every time I close my eyes. I'll always treasure what you've given me, William. Always."
He swept down to capture her lips, pouring everything he felt into the kiss.
For once, the poet had no words.
Once Spike had fallen asleep that night, Buffy crept out of the bed and to Spike's stack of poems, now in the living room. She thumbed through them, counting the numbers of ones she knew he was planning to add to the manuscript.
With a lump in her throat, she realized just how much he'd written.
It wouldn't be long now…
She'd known what she felt for Spike had to be love for a while. What else could it possibly be? As strong as her feelings towards Spike were, she couldn't imagine anything could be stronger.
Buffy knew when she left, she'd be leaving her heart behind…
Yet hearing Spike say the words—and speaking them aloud herself—had made things different somehow. It had broken through the dreamy haze of the past several days and reminded her of what lay ahead. An eternity without Spike.
And for him, a lifetime of loneliness.
It was that thought that broke her heart even more than the knowledge she'd have to leave him. If she could just know he would be happy without her, then she could bear this. She could suffer thought the loss of him and not regret what had grown between them. However, thinking of Spike living out the rest of his days alone—even if it were but a mortal lifespan—tore her apart inside.
Buffy knew how Spike had suffered when he'd lost his former love, Drusilla. She'd felt the pain he'd known when he'd been so alone, deserted. Would she do the same thing to him by leaving? She couldn't bear the thought of him again being as he had been, broken, numbing himself through drink to make it from one day to the next.
And what of his writing? He'd been in need of a muse in the first place because he couldn't write with a broken heart. Would losing her now take his gift from him forever?
For the first time in her existence, Buffy was angry with the Powers That Be. Why would they allow something like this to happen? Why would they allow two people to fall so desperately in love when nothing could ever come of it? It was so horribly unfair, and Buffy railed against the injustice.
Was it a mistake, some sort of glitch? Was their love never supposed to happen, yet it hadn't been caught in time to stop it? Or had it been purposely allowed, even with the knowledge that they'd lose each other in time, and that loss would break them both?
Buffy set the poems back down, angry, heartbroken tears streaming down her face. This wasn't fair…
"Kitten? Buffy, what's wrong, luv?"
She looked up when Spike spoke, seeing him standing in the doorway, his pale skin illuminated in the moonlight streaming through the blinds. "I…" She stopped, her breathing shuddered. "It's not fair, Spike. Why did they let this happen? Why did they do this to us? Why?"
"Who?" Spike asked.
"The Powers. Why did they send me to you when it was only going to cause us so much pain in the long run? It isn't fair, Spike! It's not fair that I can be in love with you when I can't have you!"
Spike stepped into the living room and knelt beside her, his hand smoothing over her hair. "Hey, now. It's like I told you earlier today, this is a gift, yeah? We're the lucky ones, baby. We get to know what it is to love."
"But it's not going to last, and you're going to hurt, and I don't want you to hurt."
"You're worried about how I'll make it when you leave?"
Buffy nodded. "I don't want you to be like you were before, Spike. It makes me ache to think about you like that."
"I won't be, sweetheart. I promise you." He leaned in and kissed her forehead before pulling back again to look at her face. "I won't promise you I'm going to move right on, because I'm not going to. I can't. But I won't give up either, okay? I'll know that somewhere, there's a woman who loves me with all of her heart, and that'll be enough to keep me going."
"I'll always love you, Spike," Buffy said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I know, kitten."
"You won't stop writing, will you, Spike?" Buffy asked. "You'll keep going…keep writing for me?"
"Yes, I will. What you've given me here, it's inspiration to last me a lifetime."
She smiled, though Spike could still see the pain in her eyes. "Thank you."
Spike scooped her up and carried her back to the bed.
Please review!