"I think they liked you, too, pet," Spike told her.
Spike stopped, going to the edge of the bridge and looking over, down at the water below. Buffy moved to his side, and for a moment, the two of them enjoyed the night in silence.
"I've missed this," Buffy admitted softly. "I haven't gotten to see the world in so long. There's been no sunlight or moonlight, no fresh air to breath. I don't know if I could take being banished from it forever."
Spike didn't want that to happen to her either. A creature as beautiful as Buffy needed to be out in the world, not cooped up somewhere away from everything. He hated to think that her freedom rested on him, when he couldn't seem to be able to give her what she needed now. All he had to do was write—something that had once come as naturally to him as breathing—and he couldn't do it.
He placed his hand against Buffy's back. "We'll try again tomorrow, luv. I won't give up."
Buffy turned towards him. Her eyes held a light mist of tears, and the sight of it broke his heart. "I'll try harder tomorrow, I promise," Buffy told him. "I really don't want to let you down."
Spike brushed her tears away with his thumb, then gave into his urge to run his hand over her hair. It was just as soft to the touch as it looked… "Don't talk like that now. No matter what happens, it won't be you letting me down." It would be him letting her down.
"It wouldn't be that either," Buffy said softly, and Spike realized she was picking up on his thoughts again. He smiled gently at her.
She was beautiful, bathed in moonlight, and Spike had the sudden urge to kiss her, though he held back. He didn't think he should cross that line with her, no matter how tempting it was fast becoming. They came from two separate worlds—literally—and he had no idea what would become of either of them at the end of this month. The last time he'd fallen for someone, he'd had his heart brutally crushed, and he wasn't willing to throw himself overboard again into something he knew could only be doomed.
Reluctantly, he stepped away from her. "Come on now, luv, let's go on home. I'll get myself rested so I'll be ready to start again in the morning."
Buffy nodded, and they walked off together. Her hand slid so naturally into his, that Spike didn't realize it was there until they'd already reached his flat.
As Spike slept, Buffy walked around his flat, examining what little things he had. She knew she should probably rest when he did, but she couldn't seem to make her mind stop.
She wanted to inspire him, and not just because of what it meant for her if she didn't. In all her many, many years as a muse, she'd never been assigned to anyone like him before. He was a very strange man, but somehow, that became part of his charm. And he was quite handsome—even more so than those annoying Vanities that were forever bothering her. He could look so serious, and then he'd smile, and it was like she was seeing a little piece of the boy he'd once been.
He was very kind to her as well, something that touched Buffy deeply. So many of the poets she'd been sent to help in the past had been rude and snobbish, and she hadn't cared one way or another if they succeeded. That had been, of course, before she'd discovered the detrimental effects to her own self of not producing a successful poet, but knowing that now wasn't coloring what she felt towards Spike.
Perhaps what she needed was a little advice. Her fellow muses were much more successful than her, and maybe they could give her tips on how to better help Spike. Then he could begin to write again, and she could be happy to have finally been of some help.
Buffy crept into Spike's bedroom to make sure he was still asleep, then disappeared in a shimmer of light.
The trip back to the Higher Realms was always a little disorienting, and Buffy closed her eyes and waited for the feelings of dizziness to pass so she could get her bearings. After a moment, she was fine, and she made her way down the long, white marble hallway to the lounge. There, she found three of her fellow muses: Tara, Willow, and Anya.
"Buffy! I thought you had been sent on assignment," Willow said as Buffy walked in. She smiled. "I'm happy to see you though." Suddenly, her smile went away. "Unless, you've been sent back, and…"
Tara and Anya both sat up straighter, waiting for Buffy to Willow's question. "No, it's not that at all," Buffy said quickly. "Spike has been very nice to me, and he said he doesn't want to send me back. The problem though, well…I thought maybe you could help me?"
"Of course we'll help," Tara said. "Take a seat and tell us what's wrong."
Buffy joined the three other muses. "I'm not inspiring him. I was there all day, and nothing. He didn't write one single word."
"Your problem is sticking with poets," Anya said, her tone the blunt one Buffy had gotten quite accustomed to her fellow muse using. "Human beings just aren't as creative these days as they used to be. They have all that mindless entertainment stuff to keep them occupied and they don't need real creativity anymore. Do what I did, and switch from the arts to business. I brought someone from selling oranges out of a cart on the side of the road to being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation. Now that's inspiration."
"But I don't know anything about business," Buffy replied with a heavy sigh. "Besides, changing my focus won't do me any good now. This guy's my last chance. If I don't get this book of poems out of him, I'm finished."
"Buffy, you've only been with him for a day," Tara said gently. "Do you think I inspired Homer to write his Iliad overnight? It takes time, sweetie."
"I don't have time. I have a month—less now, because this day is gone.
"You need to relax a little, don't force it," Willow said. "Inspiration is a natural thing, and it needs to be allowed to flow. You don't have much time, sure, but you'll be in worse shape if you don't take it a little slowly at first. Spend some time letting him get comfortable around you."
"We did that tonight," Buffy said, smiling at the thought of possibly doing something right. "I went out with him and got to learn about part of his life."
"See, that's good," Tara encouraged her. "It sounds to me like you're on the right track all ready."
"Oh, and we ate together, too," Buffy added. "He ate something that looked like a box full of strange worms, but he gave me this stuff called pa-hish food. It's made by some men named Ben and Jerry, and Spike told me they weren't pixies, but I think they must at least be elves, because that was the most wonderful thing I'd ever tasted. It was frozen, but it was still soft in my mouth, and it had these swirls of sweet stuff in it, and these tiny bits of something that looked like baby fish, but were really good. The next time you're on assignment, you all really have to try to find some." Buffy lowered her voice. "It's even better than the manna and the honey."
The other three muses raised their eyebrows and looked at each other. If what Buffy said was true, they would have to try this pa-hish food.
"How is Spike reacting to you?" Tara asked. "Does he seem to be warming up to you?"
"I think so," Buffy replied. "He's been very nice at least, although he doesn't always like my help. He was listening to this horrible noise that sounded like it could only cause a splitting headache, but he wasn't happy at all when I try to change it for him. But he was very kind this evening, and even allowed me to meet his friends." Buffy blushed almost imperceptibly. "He's very handsome, too."
At that, the other three muses shared a look again before Anya spoke up. "Be careful, Buffy. No matter how charming and good-looking the person we're inspiring is, we can't…"
Buffy held up her hand. "I know, Anya. I do. I may not be a very good muse, but I do know the rules. It's just… Zeus, he's a pretty man."
"Pretty or not, he's still off limits," Anya stressed. "Besides, you've got a lot riding on this. You don't have time to be distracted."
"I know you can do this, Buffy," Tara said, glancing sideways at Anya for a second. "Just remember what Willow said and don't force it. Don't worry about the time or what will happen if you fail, just focus on Spike and helping him. Everything will work the way it's supposed to."
Buffy smiled warmly at Tara. She was glad she'd decided to come here and seek their advice. She felt better already. "Thanks," she told them. "You've been a big help."
"We're always here if you need us," Willow said.
"And if you get this guy writing, come see me about switching fields," Anya added. "You'd just love entrepreneurial inspiring, I know."
"I'll keep that in mind," Buffy replied. She stood. "I should be getting back. Spike was asleep when I left, and I want to be there when he wakes in case he does want to write."
"All right. Let us know if we can help more," Willow told her.
"I will." Buffy closed her eyes and disappeared from the room.
When Spike woke the next morning, he immediately looked around his room for Buffy and was disappointed when he didn't see her. He did realize it was a little odd to feel that way now since yesterday he'd been less than thrilled to see her there when he'd woken up, but the day he'd spent with Buffy had him endeared to the bizarre little creature. In a very short period of time, he'd started to enjoy being in her company. She seemed to make everything brighter somehow. Yesterday had been the first day since Drusilla had left him that he hadn't spent hours lamenting that fact.
Besides, if Buffy wasn't there, it could mean she'd been deemed unsuccessful in helping him and banished from ever returning to this world. Spike wouldn't be able to take knowing he'd caused that to happen to her, and he hoped it wasn't the case.
Deciding he should search for her elsewhere in the flat, Spike got out of the bed, putting on a pair of jeans he grabbed from his floor before leaving the bedroom. It didn't take him long to find her, and a smile crossed over his face as he was both relieved to see her and warmed by the sight of her. She was fast asleep, curled up in a chair near his television. The television itself was on, though the volume had been turned down very low, and her slim fingers were curled around the remote control.
Spike approached her cautiously, careful not to wake her as he took the remote from her hand and set it on the coffee table. Then, he lifted Buffy up, cradling her still-sleeping form in his arms.
She was so small, weighed barely anything at all, and Spike found it amazing that a woman so tiny could be so strong and forceful. But she was, and he found he liked her all the more for it. Drusilla had been so willing to be weak, to exploit her actual conditions in order to manipulate him. But Buffy was the exact opposite, and Spike found it refreshing indeed.
Unbidden, he inhaled deeply, and the scent of her was enough to make him shiver. She smelled like flowers and spring rain, with just a bit of vanilla thrown in. It was as gorgeous as the rest of her, and his eyes trailed down to her soft, bow mouth, lightly parted in sleep, as he wondered if she would taste as good, too.
He tried not to continue with those sorts of thoughts, knowing they'd get him nowhere. He knew her presence in his life wasn't a permanent one, and he had to remember that.
Spike carried her into his bedroom and lay her down on his bed, a wistful smile on his face as he smoothed the chiton she was once again wearing. Gently, he pulled the blanket up and tucked it around her shoulders, watching as she shifted in her sleep, getting comfortable. Buffy looked so beautiful cozied up in his bed, and Spike was unable to keep himself from pressing a chaste kiss against her forehead. Her skin was warm and soft, her glorious scent washing over him again, and he closed his eyes to savor the moment he knew was a stolen one.
He pulled away from her, then took a moment to watch as she slept, sunlight streaming in from his window and bathing her in gold. Spike didn't think he'd ever had the chance to witness beauty as pure as hers before, and he wished he could hold on to this forever, find a way to grasp what he felt right then and not let go.
And inspiration struck…
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