What's It Going To Take? by Phoenixstitch
01/15/2000
This is set right after "Triangle", and before "Checkpoint", and has spoilers for all of fifth season, and some stuff from second season on Angel, with Buffy and her friends beginning to notice Spike's weird behavior. This story is not related to my other ones: "Hate and Love," or "Millennium", even though it has similar themes and ideas. Usual disclaimers to Josh Wheldon, Mutant Enemy, WB, etc., just borrowing the characters, especially Spike. Rating: PG-13? Comments: vbmacky1@yahoo.com
****************************************************************************
Buffy was still fuming that it had to be her to be the one to find Spike. Why couldn't the vampire get a cell phone or something so she wouldn't have to do this in person? Giles wanted to talk to Spike about something in one of the new books he had gotten from the Watcher's Council recently and since she was going to be patrolling in his neighborhood her watcher had suggested that she'd be the one to give him the message. She was just so not thrilled.
The petite blond slayer had been avoiding the peroxide blond vampire for days now—ever since the troll incident. He was just getting too weird for her now a days. She probably shouldn't have snapped at him at the Bronze when he was helping the victims of second floor collapse. She should have been grateful for his help. Instead she had yelled at him, belittled him, and saw it as some sort of weird ploy on his part just like when he had showed her what Riley was doing. Both times he had acted hurt, wounded, and hadn't done his usual rubbing it in her face. He had even been rather sarcasm free lately. It was her that was being the insulting one, not him for a change.—it was starting to wigg her out a lot. She could not figure him out—did she want to anyway? Why was she even having this conversation with herself? Why was she even giving the annoying vamp any thought whatsover? What was wrong with her?
He had even had the nerve to cope a feel when they fell down together. She should have hit him right then, but things were happening too fast to hit, or yell at him. Still, she had forgotten how good his hands felt—electric fire is what she remembered. And she had tried very hard to forget about his fantastic kisses, and touches under Willow's spell a year ago. Had he? It sure seemed like it as once the spell was off he was back to his annoying, nasty self, plotting her death, and vowing vengeance on every one. But something was nagging at her, been nagging—she couldn't remember the last time he had sworn to kill her? That was almost a given in their exchanges or had been. Had it quit doing it on purpose? And why? The last time, she could recall, was after their fight at the Bronze when he had tried to kiss her, and she told him off. Since they talked on her back porch he had been different somehow, but she had been too caught up in her Mom and Riley to notice since then.
Since her mom's illness he seemed to be more underfoot than usual at her house, showing up at odd times, and generally when his help was needed—like he was trying to stay close to her. Then there was Xander telling about his weird conversation with Spike at the Bronze before the troll came in. Complaining about Spike asking all about her, what she thought, and trying to pry information out of him. And voluntarily hanging with Xander and shooting pool with him like he was trying to bond with him. She wished Xander could have told her more about what Spike was talking about, but he had apologized that he was a little distracted over his own fight with Willow and Anya. The only parts he got were something about 'innocent bystanders getting blamed' and "what does one have to make things right?'. Which was similar to his comment to her about 'what does it take?' she had heard him mumble it to himself after she yelled at him for wanting credit for helping. She really did handle that whole scene with him badly and that was why she was going to attempt to apologize to him. He did help without any one asking or telling him to when he could have done the opposite and left or worse. He wasn't even trying for a free meal with all the blood around-—that had to be a first. He hadn't vamped out at all—what was wrong with him beyond the obvious?
It was just becoming sunset, the sun dipping down under a haze of deep purple clouds as she approached his mausoleum. She looked around and saw that she was still alone. She could generally tell when he was around, and already this had been a wasted trip because before she even opened the door to his crypt she could knew he wasn't home. It was rare that he wasn't home at this hour—which begged the question of where he could be?
Buffy opened the door and went in anyway. It was quiet for a change—no TV or radio blaring. She looked around for something to at least write a note on so she could say she at least tried to deliver Giles' message. Without too much problem she found a notebook and a pen on this table by his easy chair and wrote a quick message to tell him to go see Giles at the shop and that it was urgent. Then she looked for a spot to put it where he's see it. The TV screen—that he would notice. Tearing the page out of the notebook, not really looking at what had been written on the sheet underneath the blank one she had used, she went to the TV to find a way to put the note so he would see it. Looking for a book or something to weigh the note down so it would overhang the screen is when she spotted it on his bed. In the middle of his for once made bed was a florist wrapped bouquet of dark red roses, next to a small gaudy looking wrapped present. The paper was all valentine hearts on a black background with fancy pink, white, red and black streamer ribbons cascading off of it. There was a blood red envelope sticking out from underneath the ribbons. Abandoning her search for the moment, her curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to have a closer look at the package if nothing else to find who it was for. Probably it was for Harmony. She couldn't think of anyone else whom the blond vampire might be remotely interested in.
It was with a bit of a shock when she saw that the envelope was addressed to her in a very elegant hand. She wasn't sure how to react or what to think—roses…a present?. Her mortal enemy was buying her presents? Spike who hated her guts got her a present? Why? No, no…this wasn't happening, she thought to herself staring down at the package and flowers in total disbelief. He couldn't be interested in her? He couldn't be in love with her—could he? Then all the crazy things and his totally weird behavior over the last couple of months began to make sense as she started putting the puzzle pieces of his strange words and actions together. "Oh my god!" Buffy swore to herself, backing away a little frightened from the objects on his bed, not wanting to accept what her mind was coming up with.
"He's in love with me?" she gasped out loud, her words echoing eerily in the still tomb that was his home, the truth of his current confusing behaviors now becoming clear to her now as she sat down heavily on his bed to digest and think this out.
With a shock she realized Spike had been trying to tell her for a while but she hadn't let her defensive walls down enough so he could say anything to her at all since he had taken her to see Riley with the vamps. She had been too caught up with everything in her life to really notice him beyond his just being around. But other people had been noticing like Xander, and thinking back she began to realize that Riley had known about Spike's feelings for awhile too as some of Riley's comments he had made about the vampire and her made sense now. The way the two men had bristled whenever the three of them were together, and she had actually been nice to Spike in front of Riley or defended him. Riley must have thought Spike and I had something going—oh god, could it get worse?
I haven't been encouraging Spike, have I? Unconsciously have I been? Do I even want his sorry ass? And in that moment she had to admit—yes, she had, and yes, she did. There was a part of her that was very attracted to the handsome blond vampire, when he wasn't being all obnoxious and mouthy—which was most of time whenever they got into proximity to one another. And it been her starting it recently with nasty comments, or just out and out hitting him, not him, and he'd get this hurt look on his face—he never used to get hurt looks on his face. Like the way he looked at her at the Bronze the other night when he was helping that girl and she told him off. She had hurt him, and had done it deliberately, but she had felt bad afterward as it was uncalled for because he had tried to help. All this time she had been treating him as less than dirt. She wouldn't even think of treating anyone else like that, but she did him constantly—and he took it too, coming back, and back again for more even when he didn't deserve it at all. God, she was horrible—but he was a vampire, he was Spike—they weren't even friends? Or were they? What the hell were they to each other?
When had they stopped being real mortal enemies? Since he got the chip? No, before that when they made that truce to stop Angelus and Dru. Maybe before that—she wasn't sure now. He had always gotten under her skin from the moment they met. He knew her in ways no one else did or could, not even Angel. That's one of the reasons she fought with him because he could see the real her, he could see her hidden darkness and pain—she didn't want anyone to that close to her—and he unerringly hit the mark on her emotionally and mentally all the time. Like their discussion at the Bronze about the slayers and her being on the edge, wanting to die, wanting to know what death felt like, wanting to do the dance with him, and her being afraid of seeing that they weren't that much different, how much they did really have in common. He had hit the mark each time and had scared the hell out her because he did know her so damned well. But admit that to him—never. Let him know how right he was about a lot of things—never. Too much pride and self denial wouldn't let her be as honest with him as he was with her.
So how did she feel about him now? Confused was an understatement. Now that she knew how he felt about her should she nip this in the bud or let it just happen? Could she, did she feel anything for him? Could she return any feelings—assuming there were any feelings for him in her heart? Could she get past years of hating his guts, cringing or wanting to smack him when she got near him? Probably she could if it weren't for all the remembered sensations and feelings left over from Willow's spell, and what she tried not to feel when she was near him. His sheer physical presence did bother her more than she ever wanted to admit to anyone. His voice always sent warm shivers through her. It made her feel like she was wrapped in velvet, or silk, caressing her when she let it. Then there was that body of his, all wonderfully tight compact muscles making him look like he was made of chiseled marble, or sculpted ivory, with deep blue eyes she could so easily get lost in, and sensuous lips that were remembered cold fire. The thought of his kisses and how he had made her feel making her shiver and want him.
Okay, physically, yeah, she yes she could admit that she wanted him, wanted him bad, but emotionally could she let there be anything between them after years of hating one another? Could she ever love him back? Could she care? No, scratch that, she did already care what happened to him. How many times had she defended his sorry ass over the years, and when it came to showdowns between the two of them she could never bring herself to actually stake him? She had been able to run a sword through Angel, but she never could put a stake into Spike no matter how bad or mean they had been fighting. Then how many times had they saved each other or protected one another when something had jumped them? He wouldn't let anything hurt her. If the odds looked like she'd lose he was always there for her, fighting by her side coming out of nowhere sometimes to turn the battle. For all his talk of being the big bad, he wasn't, he never had been since she'd known him. He was more show and talk than actual do and he never acted like any vampire she had known.
Even this crypt she noted had a lived in look and didn't look like a crypt anymore with it's furniture, the TV, the small fridge in the corner, the knickknacks and bookcases. Though why he had a female mannequin in the corner with a blond wig eluded her totally. She probably didn't want to know about why it was there and why it was wearing something of…hers? As she got up to inspect the mannequin more closely and recognized a top she had outgrown several years ago and had put down in the basement. On top of his chest of drawers was one of her missing black lace thongs? Huh? What, he has a fetish for my underwear and clothes? She didn't know whether to be flattered, or alarmed.
Buffy went back over to the present and flowers on the bed still unsure about her own reactions to his wanting to give her gifts and flowers. For the moment she decided to not touch them, and see what he did with them. She was getting very curious now to see what he was going to do, and what kind of speech he was going to come up with when he presented these to her. At least when it happens it's not going to be a total shock like it would have been. I can a least try to give him a fair hearing—or am I nuts? She wished there was someone she could talk to this situation about, but Buffy quickly eliminated most of her friends. She didn't even think she could talk to Willow about this. No, on this she was on her own and have to wing it.
Given the gifts and all that she now knew she decided that it would be better that she didn't let him know she had been there. Buffy grabbed up her note from the TV, and stuffed it in her pocket. Glancing down at the notebook she had used earlier to put it back where she had found it she gasped out loud as her mind registered what she was looking at—poetry. Spike had been writing poetry. He had said that he had written some when he was still mortal. Curiosity was getting the better of her now after everything else she had seen. Half afraid Buffy began to read:
Bitch, You Drive Me Up The Bloody Wall by William the Bloody
Bitch, you drive me up the bloody wall.
You make my insides fall apart, into a million pieces I shatter
But just one look, or a whispered soft word, it becomes a different call
Until next time, and you never know there's anything the matter.
Pet, you make me feel once again, make me begin to care,
No, I shouldn't, shouldn't even bloody dare
But I bloody do, and that's the painful rub
Because it's always you I'm thinking of,
My golden, precious girl, my slayer, my luv.
Always to the end of days I am yours and you are mine.
Predator and prey, we go round and round, ties that bind
In the Dance of Death that never ends--until one or both of us is dead.
But until that time let us do the dance of life instead,
Loving, holding, touching, feeling, slick skin against skin
Passions burning, fulfilling all hidden, secret desires,
Fantasies, oh sweet wicked delightful fantasies, we both have such fires,
All I want is you and me beneath the sheets, rolling together, oh wicked wondrous sin,
I above you thrusting, soaring, flying, sheathed so tightly in thee
You rocking, moving, meeting, wanting, needing me.
Flesh to flesh, mind, hearts as one together to ecstasy's heights
Of love's finest dance, entwined, merging, being, stardust flights
Brimming with your sunshine, golden rainbow loving light,
I am forever yours, you are eternally mine
We've known that since our eyes met that very first time
Watching you writhe, and move, your essence screaming within the dance
Destiny, fate, brought us here this place, it was not chance.
We met face to face in a darkened alley way
Predator and prey, my words: I'll see you on Saturday.
Now, my love, I take back all the threats, all the insults keen and searing
Because now I've lost you and my heart is bleeding and tearing
I tried to do right and show you he wasn't worthy of your love
I showed you his deep dirty dark secrets he tried to hide
You think it malice and spite, further wounding, another push, another shove.
I did it caring, for love's sake, swallowing my own pride
You can not believe me capable of kindness or an unselfish deed
You cannot see, or want to see any other side no matter how I plead
Bitch, you still drive me up the bloody wall
And still I have to ask what's it going to take
To see the man behind the monster, see not a demon at all
But the just the lonely man who loves you despite a risk from a stake.
And you probably will stake me if you ever read this crap!
The young woman stood there stunned, feeling the heavy silence around her, hearing her own rapidly beating heart in the quiet of the mausoleum. She sank down heavily into his weathered green chair, her legs feeling too weak and shaky now to stand. It was poetry addressed to her, written about her by her mortal enemy, telling her in no uncertain terms how he felt about her. And it was beautiful…. God, it was beautiful, and funny, and sad, and made her see him in an entirely different way. She felt her heart begin to open wide to him, like all the walls she had put around her heart were coming down, shattering in a million pieces just like he had said. And no, she didn't feel remotely like staking him –ever, she thought with a slight smile looking at his end comment. Not even Angel had written her poetry. He had quoted someone else's but never created a work like this. And it was good, William the Bloody was very good. She would have to show him how good he was and how much his words had touched her and opened her eyes.
Carefully, she replaced the notebook and pen where she remembered getting it and got up and left, making sure she closed the door as she left. Leaving she headed for the Magic Box to go tell Giles she couldn't find Spike, but she'd try later to give him the message. Buffy never saw him, but he saw her as she made her way through the graveyard. A lone figure in a weather-beaten black leather trench coat, the moonlight reflecting off the white blond peroxide hair, leaned against a tree smoking a cigarette. He watched her go, and sighed heavily to himself noting that her hands had been empty and knew he'd find his gifts untouched where he had left them. The surprise now spoiled. His whole being filled with sadness now, he headed back to his crypt, wondering how he was now going to approach her, and what is was going to take to win her love.
*******************************
The End For Now
01/15/2000
This is set right after "Triangle", and before "Checkpoint", and has spoilers for all of fifth season, and some stuff from second season on Angel, with Buffy and her friends beginning to notice Spike's weird behavior. This story is not related to my other ones: "Hate and Love," or "Millennium", even though it has similar themes and ideas. Usual disclaimers to Josh Wheldon, Mutant Enemy, WB, etc., just borrowing the characters, especially Spike. Rating: PG-13? Comments: vbmacky1@yahoo.com
****************************************************************************
Buffy was still fuming that it had to be her to be the one to find Spike. Why couldn't the vampire get a cell phone or something so she wouldn't have to do this in person? Giles wanted to talk to Spike about something in one of the new books he had gotten from the Watcher's Council recently and since she was going to be patrolling in his neighborhood her watcher had suggested that she'd be the one to give him the message. She was just so not thrilled.
The petite blond slayer had been avoiding the peroxide blond vampire for days now—ever since the troll incident. He was just getting too weird for her now a days. She probably shouldn't have snapped at him at the Bronze when he was helping the victims of second floor collapse. She should have been grateful for his help. Instead she had yelled at him, belittled him, and saw it as some sort of weird ploy on his part just like when he had showed her what Riley was doing. Both times he had acted hurt, wounded, and hadn't done his usual rubbing it in her face. He had even been rather sarcasm free lately. It was her that was being the insulting one, not him for a change.—it was starting to wigg her out a lot. She could not figure him out—did she want to anyway? Why was she even having this conversation with herself? Why was she even giving the annoying vamp any thought whatsover? What was wrong with her?
He had even had the nerve to cope a feel when they fell down together. She should have hit him right then, but things were happening too fast to hit, or yell at him. Still, she had forgotten how good his hands felt—electric fire is what she remembered. And she had tried very hard to forget about his fantastic kisses, and touches under Willow's spell a year ago. Had he? It sure seemed like it as once the spell was off he was back to his annoying, nasty self, plotting her death, and vowing vengeance on every one. But something was nagging at her, been nagging—she couldn't remember the last time he had sworn to kill her? That was almost a given in their exchanges or had been. Had it quit doing it on purpose? And why? The last time, she could recall, was after their fight at the Bronze when he had tried to kiss her, and she told him off. Since they talked on her back porch he had been different somehow, but she had been too caught up in her Mom and Riley to notice since then.
Since her mom's illness he seemed to be more underfoot than usual at her house, showing up at odd times, and generally when his help was needed—like he was trying to stay close to her. Then there was Xander telling about his weird conversation with Spike at the Bronze before the troll came in. Complaining about Spike asking all about her, what she thought, and trying to pry information out of him. And voluntarily hanging with Xander and shooting pool with him like he was trying to bond with him. She wished Xander could have told her more about what Spike was talking about, but he had apologized that he was a little distracted over his own fight with Willow and Anya. The only parts he got were something about 'innocent bystanders getting blamed' and "what does one have to make things right?'. Which was similar to his comment to her about 'what does it take?' she had heard him mumble it to himself after she yelled at him for wanting credit for helping. She really did handle that whole scene with him badly and that was why she was going to attempt to apologize to him. He did help without any one asking or telling him to when he could have done the opposite and left or worse. He wasn't even trying for a free meal with all the blood around-—that had to be a first. He hadn't vamped out at all—what was wrong with him beyond the obvious?
It was just becoming sunset, the sun dipping down under a haze of deep purple clouds as she approached his mausoleum. She looked around and saw that she was still alone. She could generally tell when he was around, and already this had been a wasted trip because before she even opened the door to his crypt she could knew he wasn't home. It was rare that he wasn't home at this hour—which begged the question of where he could be?
Buffy opened the door and went in anyway. It was quiet for a change—no TV or radio blaring. She looked around for something to at least write a note on so she could say she at least tried to deliver Giles' message. Without too much problem she found a notebook and a pen on this table by his easy chair and wrote a quick message to tell him to go see Giles at the shop and that it was urgent. Then she looked for a spot to put it where he's see it. The TV screen—that he would notice. Tearing the page out of the notebook, not really looking at what had been written on the sheet underneath the blank one she had used, she went to the TV to find a way to put the note so he would see it. Looking for a book or something to weigh the note down so it would overhang the screen is when she spotted it on his bed. In the middle of his for once made bed was a florist wrapped bouquet of dark red roses, next to a small gaudy looking wrapped present. The paper was all valentine hearts on a black background with fancy pink, white, red and black streamer ribbons cascading off of it. There was a blood red envelope sticking out from underneath the ribbons. Abandoning her search for the moment, her curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to have a closer look at the package if nothing else to find who it was for. Probably it was for Harmony. She couldn't think of anyone else whom the blond vampire might be remotely interested in.
It was with a bit of a shock when she saw that the envelope was addressed to her in a very elegant hand. She wasn't sure how to react or what to think—roses…a present?. Her mortal enemy was buying her presents? Spike who hated her guts got her a present? Why? No, no…this wasn't happening, she thought to herself staring down at the package and flowers in total disbelief. He couldn't be interested in her? He couldn't be in love with her—could he? Then all the crazy things and his totally weird behavior over the last couple of months began to make sense as she started putting the puzzle pieces of his strange words and actions together. "Oh my god!" Buffy swore to herself, backing away a little frightened from the objects on his bed, not wanting to accept what her mind was coming up with.
"He's in love with me?" she gasped out loud, her words echoing eerily in the still tomb that was his home, the truth of his current confusing behaviors now becoming clear to her now as she sat down heavily on his bed to digest and think this out.
With a shock she realized Spike had been trying to tell her for a while but she hadn't let her defensive walls down enough so he could say anything to her at all since he had taken her to see Riley with the vamps. She had been too caught up with everything in her life to really notice him beyond his just being around. But other people had been noticing like Xander, and thinking back she began to realize that Riley had known about Spike's feelings for awhile too as some of Riley's comments he had made about the vampire and her made sense now. The way the two men had bristled whenever the three of them were together, and she had actually been nice to Spike in front of Riley or defended him. Riley must have thought Spike and I had something going—oh god, could it get worse?
I haven't been encouraging Spike, have I? Unconsciously have I been? Do I even want his sorry ass? And in that moment she had to admit—yes, she had, and yes, she did. There was a part of her that was very attracted to the handsome blond vampire, when he wasn't being all obnoxious and mouthy—which was most of time whenever they got into proximity to one another. And it been her starting it recently with nasty comments, or just out and out hitting him, not him, and he'd get this hurt look on his face—he never used to get hurt looks on his face. Like the way he looked at her at the Bronze the other night when he was helping that girl and she told him off. She had hurt him, and had done it deliberately, but she had felt bad afterward as it was uncalled for because he had tried to help. All this time she had been treating him as less than dirt. She wouldn't even think of treating anyone else like that, but she did him constantly—and he took it too, coming back, and back again for more even when he didn't deserve it at all. God, she was horrible—but he was a vampire, he was Spike—they weren't even friends? Or were they? What the hell were they to each other?
When had they stopped being real mortal enemies? Since he got the chip? No, before that when they made that truce to stop Angelus and Dru. Maybe before that—she wasn't sure now. He had always gotten under her skin from the moment they met. He knew her in ways no one else did or could, not even Angel. That's one of the reasons she fought with him because he could see the real her, he could see her hidden darkness and pain—she didn't want anyone to that close to her—and he unerringly hit the mark on her emotionally and mentally all the time. Like their discussion at the Bronze about the slayers and her being on the edge, wanting to die, wanting to know what death felt like, wanting to do the dance with him, and her being afraid of seeing that they weren't that much different, how much they did really have in common. He had hit the mark each time and had scared the hell out her because he did know her so damned well. But admit that to him—never. Let him know how right he was about a lot of things—never. Too much pride and self denial wouldn't let her be as honest with him as he was with her.
So how did she feel about him now? Confused was an understatement. Now that she knew how he felt about her should she nip this in the bud or let it just happen? Could she, did she feel anything for him? Could she return any feelings—assuming there were any feelings for him in her heart? Could she get past years of hating his guts, cringing or wanting to smack him when she got near him? Probably she could if it weren't for all the remembered sensations and feelings left over from Willow's spell, and what she tried not to feel when she was near him. His sheer physical presence did bother her more than she ever wanted to admit to anyone. His voice always sent warm shivers through her. It made her feel like she was wrapped in velvet, or silk, caressing her when she let it. Then there was that body of his, all wonderfully tight compact muscles making him look like he was made of chiseled marble, or sculpted ivory, with deep blue eyes she could so easily get lost in, and sensuous lips that were remembered cold fire. The thought of his kisses and how he had made her feel making her shiver and want him.
Okay, physically, yeah, she yes she could admit that she wanted him, wanted him bad, but emotionally could she let there be anything between them after years of hating one another? Could she ever love him back? Could she care? No, scratch that, she did already care what happened to him. How many times had she defended his sorry ass over the years, and when it came to showdowns between the two of them she could never bring herself to actually stake him? She had been able to run a sword through Angel, but she never could put a stake into Spike no matter how bad or mean they had been fighting. Then how many times had they saved each other or protected one another when something had jumped them? He wouldn't let anything hurt her. If the odds looked like she'd lose he was always there for her, fighting by her side coming out of nowhere sometimes to turn the battle. For all his talk of being the big bad, he wasn't, he never had been since she'd known him. He was more show and talk than actual do and he never acted like any vampire she had known.
Even this crypt she noted had a lived in look and didn't look like a crypt anymore with it's furniture, the TV, the small fridge in the corner, the knickknacks and bookcases. Though why he had a female mannequin in the corner with a blond wig eluded her totally. She probably didn't want to know about why it was there and why it was wearing something of…hers? As she got up to inspect the mannequin more closely and recognized a top she had outgrown several years ago and had put down in the basement. On top of his chest of drawers was one of her missing black lace thongs? Huh? What, he has a fetish for my underwear and clothes? She didn't know whether to be flattered, or alarmed.
Buffy went back over to the present and flowers on the bed still unsure about her own reactions to his wanting to give her gifts and flowers. For the moment she decided to not touch them, and see what he did with them. She was getting very curious now to see what he was going to do, and what kind of speech he was going to come up with when he presented these to her. At least when it happens it's not going to be a total shock like it would have been. I can a least try to give him a fair hearing—or am I nuts? She wished there was someone she could talk to this situation about, but Buffy quickly eliminated most of her friends. She didn't even think she could talk to Willow about this. No, on this she was on her own and have to wing it.
Given the gifts and all that she now knew she decided that it would be better that she didn't let him know she had been there. Buffy grabbed up her note from the TV, and stuffed it in her pocket. Glancing down at the notebook she had used earlier to put it back where she had found it she gasped out loud as her mind registered what she was looking at—poetry. Spike had been writing poetry. He had said that he had written some when he was still mortal. Curiosity was getting the better of her now after everything else she had seen. Half afraid Buffy began to read:
Bitch, You Drive Me Up The Bloody Wall by William the Bloody
Bitch, you drive me up the bloody wall.
You make my insides fall apart, into a million pieces I shatter
But just one look, or a whispered soft word, it becomes a different call
Until next time, and you never know there's anything the matter.
Pet, you make me feel once again, make me begin to care,
No, I shouldn't, shouldn't even bloody dare
But I bloody do, and that's the painful rub
Because it's always you I'm thinking of,
My golden, precious girl, my slayer, my luv.
Always to the end of days I am yours and you are mine.
Predator and prey, we go round and round, ties that bind
In the Dance of Death that never ends--until one or both of us is dead.
But until that time let us do the dance of life instead,
Loving, holding, touching, feeling, slick skin against skin
Passions burning, fulfilling all hidden, secret desires,
Fantasies, oh sweet wicked delightful fantasies, we both have such fires,
All I want is you and me beneath the sheets, rolling together, oh wicked wondrous sin,
I above you thrusting, soaring, flying, sheathed so tightly in thee
You rocking, moving, meeting, wanting, needing me.
Flesh to flesh, mind, hearts as one together to ecstasy's heights
Of love's finest dance, entwined, merging, being, stardust flights
Brimming with your sunshine, golden rainbow loving light,
I am forever yours, you are eternally mine
We've known that since our eyes met that very first time
Watching you writhe, and move, your essence screaming within the dance
Destiny, fate, brought us here this place, it was not chance.
We met face to face in a darkened alley way
Predator and prey, my words: I'll see you on Saturday.
Now, my love, I take back all the threats, all the insults keen and searing
Because now I've lost you and my heart is bleeding and tearing
I tried to do right and show you he wasn't worthy of your love
I showed you his deep dirty dark secrets he tried to hide
You think it malice and spite, further wounding, another push, another shove.
I did it caring, for love's sake, swallowing my own pride
You can not believe me capable of kindness or an unselfish deed
You cannot see, or want to see any other side no matter how I plead
Bitch, you still drive me up the bloody wall
And still I have to ask what's it going to take
To see the man behind the monster, see not a demon at all
But the just the lonely man who loves you despite a risk from a stake.
And you probably will stake me if you ever read this crap!
The young woman stood there stunned, feeling the heavy silence around her, hearing her own rapidly beating heart in the quiet of the mausoleum. She sank down heavily into his weathered green chair, her legs feeling too weak and shaky now to stand. It was poetry addressed to her, written about her by her mortal enemy, telling her in no uncertain terms how he felt about her. And it was beautiful…. God, it was beautiful, and funny, and sad, and made her see him in an entirely different way. She felt her heart begin to open wide to him, like all the walls she had put around her heart were coming down, shattering in a million pieces just like he had said. And no, she didn't feel remotely like staking him –ever, she thought with a slight smile looking at his end comment. Not even Angel had written her poetry. He had quoted someone else's but never created a work like this. And it was good, William the Bloody was very good. She would have to show him how good he was and how much his words had touched her and opened her eyes.
Carefully, she replaced the notebook and pen where she remembered getting it and got up and left, making sure she closed the door as she left. Leaving she headed for the Magic Box to go tell Giles she couldn't find Spike, but she'd try later to give him the message. Buffy never saw him, but he saw her as she made her way through the graveyard. A lone figure in a weather-beaten black leather trench coat, the moonlight reflecting off the white blond peroxide hair, leaned against a tree smoking a cigarette. He watched her go, and sighed heavily to himself noting that her hands had been empty and knew he'd find his gifts untouched where he had left them. The surprise now spoiled. His whole being filled with sadness now, he headed back to his crypt, wondering how he was now going to approach her, and what is was going to take to win her love.
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The End For Now