Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belonging to the show are not of my creation. The poems used in this story are ‘Broken Dreams’ and ‘The Mask’ by William Butler Yeats, ‘Evening Star’ by Edgar Allan Poe, and ‘Love’s Secret’ by William Blake.

Authors Note: Big, big, big thanks to whoever nominated me at the Spark and Burn awards! ^_^ Seven days has been nominated for ‘Best Romance’, ‘Best Angst’, ‘Best Alternate Reality’, and I’ve been nominated for ‘Best New Author’. Vote for me! Err, if there is voting, anyway.
As always, much thanks to Slaymesoftly for the wonderful beta work she does. She’s what makes my story presentable. Also, thanks again to The Space Between for the wonderful new banner!
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Day 7


The bathtub was cramped, but the water was warm, soothing, and the moment was perfect. Buffy sighed and leaned back against her lover’s chest. He was dragging the washcloth down her arms, then across her chest.

“I still don’t get Harmony, though.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “And I don’t get soldier-boy. But if you bring that git up in too much detail, I might have to dunk you.”

Pouting, Buffy scooped up a pile of bubbles and tossed them over her shoulder. “Meanie.”

Grinning unrepentantly, he traced his tongue up the back of her neck. Buffy shivered and moaned, her nipples hardening, and goosebumps rising on her arms.

“Not cold, are you?”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t want to get out, if that’s what you’re asking. Can we just stay here? Staying here would be of the good.”

Before he could answer, a loud gurgling complaint came from Buffy’s stomach. Spike stifled a laugh.

“Cold and hungry. ‘Afraid that’s a ‘no’ on staying put, luv.”

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“So what do you think, hot wings?” Buffy grinned mischievously, dressed only in her robe.

The sight of Spike in just his tight black jeans made Buffy hungry for other things. The growl of her stomach was the only thing keeping her from jumping his bones.

“Hot wings and my Slayer...perfect meal.”

The vampire smiled as he watched his slayer disappear into the kitchen. She was swaying her hips, tempting him to follow. But from the mess they’d already made of the kitchen, not to mention on top of the kitchen isle, he knew that if he followed her they’d never get a meal in edgewise.

Buffy had made it clear that she wanted to make everything perfect. She didn’t have to say a thing about it, and she put extra effort into everything she did. Spike had a few ideas of his own. He was determined to make things memorable.

But everything was perfect. Spike took in the sight of the living room of the Summers home. The pictures on the mantelpiece were of his girls. Pictures of the Scoobies littered the room too, but it was mostly Buffy and her family. When he had first seen the house, years ago, he never imagined that he would feel so at home. When he had first fallen in love with Buffy, he never imagined that he would be truly welcomed. Yep, everything was perfect.

Everything was spinning.

The floor lurched. He wasn’t sure if it was the room moving or him. Once a bolt of searing hot pain shot through his system, he stopped caring. Spike clutched at his chest, his insides burning. He gasped, trying to call out to Buffy, but couldn’t manage. He stumbled towards the couch, but made it only as far as the coffee table. He tumbled down onto it, dishes and knick knocks being thrown off before he rolled off to join them on the floor.

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Buffy pulled the bag of chicken wings out of the freezer. She tossed it onto the counter, wishing that Spike had followed her into the kitchen. With a pout, she recalled how fun he had made some of their previous meals that had actually taken place in the kitchen. She couldn’t help but blush when she saw the part of the counter where she had been bent over while he…

The crash jarred her from her perverse thoughts. Frowning, she peered towards the living room. “Spike? Did you break something in there? No clowning around without me!”

She smiled, returning her attention to opening the bag of chicken wings, until she realized that there had been no answer. Normally, a wise crack would be thrown right back at her.

“Spike…?”

There was nothing but silence. Her own heartbeat was soon her only companion, as it began to speed up. She felt numb, the silence around her was smothering.

Buffy didn’t even realize she had dropped the bag of chicken wings until she nearly stumbled over a few while she ran out of the kitchen. She half slid across the floor. “Spike, answer me! I swear, if you’re playing some stupid joke-!” Her mouth snapped shut when she saw the collapsed vampire, lying on his side beside the coffee table. Things were strewn everywhere, two of the glasses broken; but all she really saw was Spike.

Her legs trembled even as she forced herself to move closer. She knelt down beside him, reaching out to touch his arm, only to yank it back. “Oh god…Spike, you’re burning up!”

His skin was hot to the touch, his face paler than normal. She turned him over onto his back, not even aware of the panicked sound of her voice. “You have to wake up…please, come on, Spike, wake up for me…please…” A tear trailed slowly down her cheek. Was this how it was going to end?

Shaking her head in denial, she lifted Spike off of the ground, carrying him towards the stairs.

She had brought Spike back to her bedroom, laying him down, unable to do anything but hope. His skin had been unusually warm to the touch, and his every grimace of pain was driving her insane. She was helpless, and she hated it.

She couldn’t stop the tears. They had come unbidden, and she did her best to wipe them away once she saw that Spike was waking up. His eyes were clear, though confused as he looked up at her. Buffy reached out to touch his arm, feeling his flesh rapidly cooling back to its normal temperature under her finger tips.

Both were silent for a moment. Spike moved his hand to lace his fingers with her, trying to offer what comfort he could.

“’m guessing that was a warning.” His voice was gentle.

Buffy sniffed, keeping her tears at bay. “You should rest…” He was sitting up even as she said it. “You shouldn’t get out of bed, or…or strain too much…”

“You mean I should let what time we have go wasted?”

“It won’t! Just…” Buffy rose on shaky legs, making her way towards the bedroom door. “I’ll bring up the chicken wings, and your blood…but you just have to stay and rest.”

Sighing, Spike stood. Buffy immediately whirled on him, eyes blazing in anger. Spike raised his chin defiantly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not spendin’ the rest of the bloody day in this bed, playing the weak layabout when there’s far better things to be doing with our time.”

Gritting her teeth and shaking in fury, Buffy glared at the vampire. “You…have…to rest!”

“Why?” He growled back. “So I can get all better?” He took a step closer to the doorway.

The Slayer stood in his path, glaring daggers. “Stay put…you’re going to stay here, you’re going to rest…and…and you…” Her voice wavered, her lower lip trembling.

“Or what?”

Buffy let loose a swing before she could even think about it. Her fist connected hard with his jaw, and his head jerked back. When he turned to face her again, both of them stared in wide-eyed shock. Then there was no shock, just desperation. Buffy marched closer to him, closing the gap between them before taking another swing. It connected, Spike stumbling back towards the bed. “You have to stay here! You have to save your strength! You…you have to be here when I get back!” Each swing was weaker than the last, soon not even strong enough to leave a bruise. Finally, she was reduced to pummeling her fists weakly against his solid chest, as if she could beat life back into him. “Please!” A sob tore through her, her strikes barely slaps before he finally took hold of her wrists and held her hands against him. “Please…”

He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her as she laid her head against the chest she had abused. The second sob was enough to make her entire body tremble. She pulled her hands from his and clutched at him instead, holding him as close to her as she could manage. His hold on her was gentle and tender, but there was a tension in his muscles that spoke of need just as desperate as her own.

Buffy raised tear filled eyes, searching out his. Guilt nearly swallowed her as she saw a bruise begin to form on one side of Spike’s jaw. She pulled his head down and placed small, gentle kisses all across the area her fist had struck. She had never wanted to hurt him again, and she didn’t trust her voice to be strong enough to apologize. At the very least, Buffy was determined to show how sorry she was with her touch.

Spike turned his head, his soft lips meeting hers. She tasted like fiery temper and tears. Both were lost in the whirlwind of their heated emotions. Buffy’s arms found their way around Spike’s neck, and they tumbled back onto the bed.

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Their heated coupling left both vampire and Slayer straining to catch their breath. They clutched at one another, Spike leaning back against the headboard and holding his precious Slayer in his arms. Buffy couldn’t even stand an inch of space between them, and soon crawled into Spike’s lap, her arms wrapped around his neck and her head rested on his shoulder.

“Stay…” She whispered softly to him.

“Hmm?” Spike gently traced his fingers through her soft hair.

“Stay…stay here…stay with me.” Her tears fell against his shoulder. “Please…you have to stay with me.”

She could feel his soft lips against her brow, and it only made her want to weep. Touch couldn’t offer comfort when she knew it was the last.

“I want to…”

“Then do it…we’ll find a way.” Her voice was thick with tears that wouldn’t be held back for another day. “You have to be there with me…you…you have to fight with me, and argue with me, and help train the girls…you have to scare the locals wherever we go, and show me all the places you’ve been…” The tears were falling in earnest. She held hard to the solid muscle of his shoulders and arms, as if they would disappear right before her eyes. “You have to tell me all the stories I pretend I don’t want to hear. I don’t want to see those places without hearing them. You have to help me with Dawn, and go on vacation with me, and get under my skin…please, Spike…oh god, please…I can’t do it…I can’t leave this place without you…not now…”

“Shhhhh….” He rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles. Buffy could hear the sorrow threatening to choke him, but he was holding back for her. “You can…and it’ll be alright. This is probably the first time I’ve said that, and actually been able to mean it. You’ve got the whole soddin’ world now, Buffy…you’re never goin’ to be alone in the fight again…you’re going to see things, do things, that no other Slayer has ever…” He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself even as Buffy felt his tears on the cheek she was stroking. “Do you know what it means to me, luv? To be part of what gave you that? You’re going to see the world, you’re going to watch Dawn grow into a formidable woman, you’re going to live well, right into old age…”

“Come with me,” Buffy kissed his neck. “Heaven can wait.”

Spike smiled sadly. “We both know I’m not going to heaven, luv.”

“You saved the world,” she insisted. “You’re not going to hell. You’re going to see heaven even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. I’ll even dress you in one of those funny long white robes if you make me come get you.”

He laughed softly, rocking her against him. “You’ve already given me a week of heaven. Bloody hell, you’ve given me all I’ll ever need.”

Buffy’s eyes filled with tears all over again. She didn’t want to be a blubbering mess. She didn’t want her face all red and puffy, and her thoughts all sorrowful.

“I’ll tell you what,” Spike said. “I won’t go to either. Heaven, hell…either would be boring without you, Slayer. So, I’ll go where the action is. I’m gonna follow you…whenever you’re trainin’, or fightin’ off a new nasty, I’m gonna be watchin’ you dance…whenever you’re makin’ a fool of yourself by butcherin’ a language, I’m goin’ to be snickering behind your back…when you and your sister get in a tussle, I’m going to be placin’ bets. And one of these days, I’m goin’ to see you on a beach, and be walkin’ right beside you on it, right in the sunlight. I’ll be the one whispering dirty thoughts of skinny dipping into your ear.”

She smiled softly, looking up at him. “Spike?”

He tilted his head down, blue meeting hazel. “Yes, pet?”

“Would you read me some of that poetry now?”


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“…In that mysterious, always brimming lake
Where those What have obeyed the holy law
paddle and are perfect. Leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed,
For old sake's sake.”

Buffy’s head rested on Spike’s chest, and the deep rumble of his voice was soothing every ache inside her heart. She traced her fingertips gently across his skin while she merely listened. She had always loved the sound of his voice…

“The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have
ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.”

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“…Too cold- too cold for me-
There pass'd, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,”

Spike held the book in one hand, while the other held Buffy’s. She had noticed a while back that Spike didn’t even need to look at the book. He never hesitated over a word. He was reciting them from memory while his fingertips traced over her palm.

“And dearer thy beam shall be;

“For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.”

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“Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah! she did depart!

Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveler came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.”

Spike paused in his reading long enough to give Buffy a sharp nip on the ear, tugging the earlobe between his teeth while she giggled, borrowing deeper into his side.

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"Put off that mask of burning gold
With emerald eyes."
"O no, my dear, you make so bold
To find if hearts be wild and wise,
And yet not cold."

"I would but find what's there to find,
Love or deceit."
"It was the mask engaged your mind,
And after set your heart to beat,
Not what's behind."

"But lest you are my enemy,
I must enquire."
"O no, my dear, let all that be;
What matter, so there is but fire
In you, in me?"

They had lit the candles six minutes earlier. The light was beginning to fade outside, and they wouldn’t allow the approaching darkness to interrupt their little world. The light flickered across them and sent shadows all over the room. Buffy had been watching the shadows on the ceiling, then watching the shadows on Spike’s face. They only brought more attention to his sharp features.

Her eyes landed on the curve of his bottom lip. She slowly pulled closer, then captured that lip in her mouth right after he had finished with another poem. She suckled on it softly, then drew back to look into the eyes that were darkening with passion for her.

“Have I ever told you that you have the sexiest voice ever?”

He grinned wickedly. “You show me every time you cum when I talk dirty…”

Buffy giggled. “Another kind of poetry.”

Spike’s expression sobered a bit. He slowly closed the book, putting the poetry aside. He wrapped an arm around Buffy, pulling her body up against his. His gaze darted to the clock, then back to his lover’s face.

“What do you say, Slayer?” He whispered softly, then brushed his lips against hers. “One more dance?”

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His fingertips moved across her skin in a teasing caress. Spike explored her body as though it were the first time, rather than the last. He placed gentle kisses all across her neck and chest, then brushed the tip of his tongue across her nipples.

They hardened at his touch. Buffy’s body was humming with anticipation. When he took a nipple into his mouth, her back arched off of the bed.

Their hands stroked and teased. They memorized one another’s bodies with talented tongues. When both were panting heavily with their need for the other, Spike sat back and pulled Buffy onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her while she reached down and guided his cock into her wet and waiting sex.

He thrust forward hard, the Slayer in his lap throwing her head back and moaning. Their touches were still tender. For them, the world didn’t exist, and reality could wait. Their passion shook the walls.

She was straddling Spike’s hips, riding him hard. He was sitting up and holding her body to his. He filled her completely with each hard thrust, drawing a gasp from her, while her nails nearly drew blood from his shoulders.