Disclaimer: It ain’t my show, alright? And the poems used in this story aren’t mine either. The poems are, as follows: William Butler Yeat’s, ‘The Everlasting Voices’, and ‘What was Lost’. Edgar Allan Poe’s, ‘A dream’, and William Blake’s ‘The Land of Dreams’.

Author’s Note: All that’s left after this is the epilogue, so I hope you all enjoy.
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The 7th Night



He was in pain

It was the seventh’s night after her wish, and Buffy’s lover was in pain.

She had been with him in the shower. They had washed the signs of their lovemaking away. Each had tended to the other, stroking and caressing, occasionally laughing when it looked like their shower was going to turn into another sexathon. The laughter was their best moments, when their eyes met and they couldn’t help their smug or teasing grins.

Buffy had turned her back to turn off the shower, just in time for Spike to slap her on the backside with a washcloth. She yelped and jumped, giggling as she leaned up against the wall. She turned just in time to see a beautifully naked Spike stepping out of the shower…then stumbling.

The laughter was gone in an instant. “Spike…?”

His back was turned to her, but she still saw the faint tremble. “’m fine…”

“Maybe you should…”

He turned around to face her. “I’m fi-!” his body jerked. He reached out quickly to grab hold of the counter and steady himself, but didn’t have the strength to stop the sudden fall. He hit the ground hard, and then was deadly still.

Time moved slower than it should. Buffy was sure the last moment had come. She was also sure that her heart would stop.

“No…” She couldn’t move, at first simply watching as he lay still. Once her moment of frozen terror passed, she rushed quickly from the shower.

Buffy slipped across the wet floor. She grabbed hold of the counter that Spike had tried to support himself with, and then knelt beside the fallen vampire. Her hands hovered over his body. She could feel the heat coming off of him without even touching him. He had the heat of a man dying of fever.

She shifted him, rolling him onto his back. “Spike…” Her whisper sounded hopeless even to herself…until his eyes opened.

They looked bloodshot. His back arched and the cry of pain that came from him tore at the Slayer’s heart. He was aware for only a moment, his eyes meeting hers in what could have been a silent goodbye. When his eyes rolled back and closed again, Buffy’s entire body trembled.

“NO! Spike, please!”

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She dragged him carefully out of the bathroom, then took one of his arms and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pulled him up, trying to get him to stand, but his legs wouldn’t support him. Instead, she half carried him to the bed, then gently laid him down.

“Come on, baby, wake up for me…please, Spike…” She took his warm hand. She leaned close over him, her fingers moving through his bleached curls. “Are you here with me?”

Blue eyes opened to peer up at her. Spike licked his suddenly parched lips. “’Course, luv…where else would I be?”

His breathing was ragged, but Buffy was glad that he was making the effort. If his breathing were to suddenly stop, Buffy wasn’t sure if she could keep herself together. Resting her head on his warm chest, she simply listened to his breaths. One of his hands rose from the bed, his fingers tangling in her hair.

She peered up at him. He was staring up at the ceiling, his face beginning to take on a disturbing blankness.

“Hey,” she rose from her resting spot, placing a gentle kiss on her lover’s dry lips. “You didn’t get to finish showing me your favorite poems. The ones you read to me are beautiful…please, show me the rest?”

His focus returned. Spike turned his head to look at her, then nodded before reaching towards the nightstand. His arm trembled as he picked up the book of poetry. His fingers could grip it for only a moment before dropping it onto the floor.

Spike closed his eyes and sighed in frustration, then rolled over to try and retrieve the book from the floor.

“No,” Buffy placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got another idea.”

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“O sweet everlasting Voices, be still;
Go to the guards of the heavenly fold
And bid them wander obeying your will,
Flame under flame, till Time be no more;”

Buffy was propped against the headboard, Spike’s head rested on her shoulder. She held him against her, stroking his platinum locks while she read from the page he had pointed out.

“Have you not heard that our hearts are old,
That you call in birds, in wind on the hill,
In shaken boughs, in tide on the shore?
O sweet everlasting Voices, be still.”

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“Which one now?”

Spike struggled to keep his eyes open. He lifted one shaking hand, flipping through a few pages before bringing his fingertip to rest against the chosen poem.

“Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother's only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

"O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the lillies by waters fair.

Among the lambs clothed in white
She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn -
O when shall I return again?...

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“In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?”
Spike’s back arched and his ragged breathing stopped for a moment. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain.

“Maybe I should stop…”
He shook his head firmly. “Don’t…no, don’t…” His entire body shivered. He was paler than normal, his skin growing warmer still. “K-keep…don’t stop…”
Forcing back her tears, Buffy forced her gaze back to the page in front of her.
“That holy dream- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star? “
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Spike’s skin was almost scorching hot against her own. She cradled his head against her chest.
“I sing what was lost and dread what was won,
I walk in a battle fought over again,
My king a lost king, and lost soldiers my men;
Feet to the Rising and Setting may run,
They always beat on the same small stone.”

A tear trailed slowly down her cheek as she placed a tender kiss against his forehead. She closed the book and let it rest beside her.

“Have you ever written any poetry, Spike?”

She could feel his chuckle, even if his throat was too dry for it to make a real sound.

“There are some secrets I am going to take to my grave, Slayer.”

“You know I love you,” she whispered softly to him. “Right?”

His eyes were even more bloodshot. Buffy could barely stand to keep her arms around him, his flesh had grown so hot. Spike smiled softly.

“I know…” He traced his fingertips softly around the curve of her cheek. The way he was looking at her, it was obvious that he was taking effort to memorize every feature. “Thank you…thank you for this…for everything. Thank you for turning my world arse over tit…for showing me a world I never would have known without you…and for giving me this time, giving me you…”

Buffy closed her eyes, placing another soft kiss against his forehead, then his lips. He moved closer to her, returning her kiss for a moment before reluctantly pulling away. His body was very obviously wracked with pain.

“I’m going to see you again…” Buffy insisted.

Spike grinned, some of his wicked humor returning. He curled his tongue behind his teeth, raising an eyebrow. “You know you can’t get rid of me, Slayer…” Some of the vulnerability returned to his gaze. “Remember me?”

The Slayer’s vision blurred with unshed tears. She breathed hard for a moment to compose herself. “How could I not?”

He smiled softly at her, reaching up and gently tracing his fingers through her hair. He moved the tips of his fingers over her cheek again, then across her lips. “I love you, Buffy…now let me go.”

She bit her lip to hold back a sob, nodding reluctantly. Buffy released him, gently laying him flat against the bed. She laid beside him, facing him.

“This doesn’t mean I’m letting you go…that’s so not going to happen. Like you said, can’t get rid of you…you’re the one…” She swallowed hard. “You’re the one that doesn’t leave…”

Buffy reached out to him, taking his hand. Their fingers laced together, Spike clutching at her hand like a lifeline. The voice of the demon that had granted her wish suddenly returned to her. ‘Every wish has a price…’

“The price…”

“Hmm?” Spike’s body shook violently. His heat soared, but Buffy refused to pull her hand away.

“The price…” she spoke softly with horror. “You’re the one…it wasn’t me, you’re the one that has to pay a price…that’s why you’re in pain…oh god, Spike…I’m-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry…” He held onto her hand tightly. “If there’s a price, I’ll pay it. I’d pay it a thousand times over for what you’ve done for me; for this time with you.”

His back arched again, and this time there was a sharp cry of pain.

“Spike!” She pulled closer to him.

Spike pushed her gently away with one hand, keeping his fingers laced with hers with the other. As he pushed her away, flames ignited from his palm, scoring hers.

“No…” The tears filled her eyes again as Buffy looked at their joined, flaming hands. “Please, please no…” she looked back at Spike, whose eyes were on their hands.

He looked up at her, a smile on his face despite the burning pain that was consuming him from the inside. “Shhhh, luv…remember what I said…” He looked up into her eyes, blue meeting teary hazel. “I’ll be watching you dance.” He squeezed her hand tightly, trying to keep her eyes on his so she didn’t have to see the flesh burning away from his chest, blackened ribs exposed. He could feel the flames rising up his throat. “Dance for me…”

Buffy’s entire body shook with sobs, and ached to touch his. The tears flooded her eyes, beginning to obscure her vision just as the flesh of his cheeks began to burn away. When his beautiful eyes were no more, she closed her own eyes against the sight of the blackened skull, then let out a loud scream of desperate heartbreak as she felt the hand clutching hers crumble to dust between her fingers.