„I've always cut myself off."
– „I've never been close to anyone."
Spike was never a true thinker in the literal sense – like Angel said many times –, even when he had a heartbeat (maybe that's why he sucked at poetry). Sometimes he just acted thoughtlessly, other times when he actually thought, it was with the heart.
Many couldn't understand and it always ended in a disaster.
Buffy always thought before she acted (never want, take, have), sometimes overthinking, but mostly simply thinking too loud til her heart cried out in agony or a demon came across and forced her to act out of instinct. Because it is in her blood. And the calling rejected weakness in heart and soul. Or so she's been told. Then she died and met Spike, acting reckless and disrespectful to both of them. She wanted, she took it and then she had it.
And she was never happy with the result.
But they both need closeness more than closure for lack of soul.
.
„What do ya see?"
„There's nothing to see, luv", he replies and wraps his arms around her waist, head resting on her shoulder, looking into the shattered mirror standing in front of them. Truly, what is there to see? Only the room. Some pale corpses littering the floor, and blood on the carpet. Unimportant things.
The mirror will never tell who did these crimes.
„I want ta see us, Spike. Why is the mirror telling lies?" She pouts and her fingers lightly trace the sharp edge of a splintering shard.
He smiles bitterly, the corners of his mouth curving only slightly upwards. Will she never learn? Life is dead. The world hadn't looked better when they were still in it.
„True beauty lies in the invisible. In here", he places his hand softly against her temple, „and in here." His other hand slowly wanders from her abdomen to her heart, lightly resting atop the swell of her breast.
He sees how she closes her eyes and hums in contentment against his touch, pressing her cheek into his palm.
„My William. Such a poet."
They tumble against the mirror and the already loose bits fall all around them, shards like raindrops, biting into their skin.
Now the world is blind.
They are freaks of nature, even without a soul.
Two fragile hearts (one too frail to be destined forever) trying to cling to each other in hope of some closeness to deny impending closure.