Chapter Twelve: Searching for Inspiration

Spike returned to his rooms. He took off his spectacles and tucked them in his coat pocket. Removing his jacket he laid it on the back of a nearby chair and headed for his balcony. He needed the fresh evening air to help him clear his thoughts. As if of their own accord, he found his legs slipping over the railing and landing silently on the balcony next to his. Spike watched Buffy through the curtains.

Buffy looked so beautiful, he just couldn't help watching her. He needed the time to gather his thoughts anyway - he told himself. What better way than watching the object of his desire, even if she was just standing in the middle of her room.

He could stay right where he was for the rest of his unlife just gazing at her. Buffy stepped out of his view and he moved to be able to have her back in his line of sight. With his small step, he accidentally stepped on something that made a crunching sound.

Buffy must have heard it too, for she was headed straight for him. Spike jumped back over the railing and slipped inside his room, just as she opened her balcony doors and stepped outside.

"Spike," she whispered in almost a desperate tone.

Spike froze. Did she know? Had she seen him? He didn't know what to do. Then he reached for his glasses. Putting them back in place, he stepped back onto the parapet. She was no longer there. For a moment, he felt relieved. He didn't have to explain anything to her.

The light from her room flooded out the open doors, so there was no way he could sneak back over to watch her. With some disappointment, he turned and reentered his own room.

Spike searched his room for paper and something to write with. As soon as he found what he needed, he made his way to the chair by the window. He lit the lamp on the table next to him, before he sat down and made himself comfortable.

Spike kept his spectacles on, to help him get into character. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. This evening's conversation came rushing back to him. He was still reeling from Buffy's questions about his scar. How could he have forgotten about it? He had had it for so long, it was such a part of him. He knew she hadn't appreciated his evasiveness. But he just couldn't come up with a plausible excuse. Well, at least not without lying - again. And he didn't want to lie to her anymore. He was lying enough to Buffy as is. Not telling her who he really was, as well as making up that whole thing about his mother meeting her before. But he had been getting too comfortable being around her. He had only said the latter to keep them both on their toes. This couldn't last. And he couldn't fall for her, all over again, as William as well. Only he found that very hard to do. Buffy was almost a completely different person with William. She treated him with genuine respect and even affection, he dared to say. She had even called him charming and attractive! Could she be falling for William as well? There had been something in her eyes tonight when she had looked at him, when she had told him that there was someone else. Did she regret it? Did she regret that she couldn't stay here with William? Dear sweet William, who Buffy - his Buffy - was looking adoringly at tonight. He saw it in her eyes, when he was showing her around this evening. Bloody hell! Was he becoming jealous of William now?

God he was disturbed to even think it. No one had wanted William - other than his mother - when he was alive. Why would Buffy be any different? Why would she want a man like William? A man who couldn't even stand up for himself! He ran his fingers through his hair, in frustration. Had he always been such a fool?

Spike shook himself out of his thoughts. He let his mind wander to images of Buffy, to the sounds she made during their more intimate moments. Spike hadn't allowed himself that indulgence since he had left for Africa. He told himself that he was only allowing it now to help his plan along. He needed to be in the right state of mind for it to come together. So, for the first time in a very long time, Spike let himself feel. Really feel everything within him that he felt for Buffy. Then he let William have free rein of his thoughts.

Spike was up the entire night writing. He had come up with the idea and then just couldn't get it out of his head. He had ended up writing pages and pages of bloody awful poetry. Only this time, he intended it to be so. The poems were all about his beloved Buffy, only she wouldn't suspect any of it. He planned to read her some of it tonight after dinner.

He knew it wasn't right to put her through this, but he was evil after all. Maybe in the end, he wouldn't have to tell her he was Spike. Soon he would no longer be in this world and when that happened, Buffy would go back to hers, for she would have no reason to be in this time. Which was why Spike intended to enjoy his remaining time with her, and reading his poetry to her, awful or not, really would bring him immense pleasure.