It was an evening like any other. Spike was sitting at the table,
writing poetry. Buffy sprawled on the bed watching him, drinking in the
sight of her handsome lover.
He knew she was watching him, but didn't mind. He could tell she was just enjoying being there, as she usually did. Eventually, she'd come over to him and try to read over his shoulder.
Sure enough, curiosity got the better of her, and she crept over to him, peering over his shoulder. He was at the 'fine-tuning' stage, as he called it, so put the pen down and drew her down onto his knee, wrapping his arm around her. She snuggled up to him, happy just to be close to her beloved Spike.
"Love you," she murmured into his chest.
"Love you, too," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "So much."
"Mm," she smiled, nestling closer to him.
They stayed there quietly, just enjoying each other's presence, the feeling of being close to each other, not needing to say anything. Their contentment and companionship was almost palpable. There was a song in Buffy's heart as she curled up, cat-like, on his lap. Spike wondered inanely if she'd start purring, she looked so happy. He wondered how his own heart hadn't burst with happiness. He kissed her softly, barely more than a gentle touch on her lips.
"Supper?"
"Mm," she replied. "Sounds like a good plan." She uncurled herself and stood up, and they went out to the table to eat.
Estrellita was there waiting for them. They shared a sense of misgiving. She smiled, sadly. "Yes. It is almost time."
"No!" cried Buffy. "I don't want to go home!" Spike was silent, his face set.
Estrellita touched her hand gently. " Some day, you may return. Both of you. But you have responsibilities of your own, people who need you. The hell-god Glorificus is searching for the Key," she stated. "You need to stop her from finding it."
Buffy nodded, biting her lip. "So, if I save the world, I get to come back?" she asked.
Estrellita sighed. "I wish it was as simple as that. Because your task is so difficult and important, I must make you forget your time here. Otherwise, it will distract you from your purpose." She looked at their aghast faces. "You cannot return here until your work is done, and until you have found each other again. If you do not find true love with each other in your own dimension, you will not return here." Her eyes were sad as she said it. "I wish it were not so. Your love is so great. But this is beyond my control. The fate of the world is in your hands."
Buffy was clinging to Spike, sobbing quietly as he tried to comfort her. "Why? Why me?"
"Because you are the chosen one, and there is a part you have yet to play in your own world. But have no fear, I will help you when I may. Though in some things, I may not interfere."
"When do we go?" asked Spike emotionlessly.
"Tomorrow. Your clothes will be in the chest in the morning. Then I will send you back home." She seemed to want to say something more, but only managed a small "I'm sorry," before flitting out into the night.
They didn't feel much like eating, knowing their time there was so short. Buffy cried herself to sleep in Spike's arms. His own side of the pillow was wet before she woke.
They dressed silently in the morning. As Buffy put on her jacket, Spike handed her a wad of papers. "Here. My poetry. I wrote it for you. You may as well keep it."
She gave him a small smile to thank him, and put the poems in her jacket pocket. "Ready?"
"Guess so," he replied.
She sighed, taking a last look round the room that she'd come to love so much. "Wait a minute!" she said, spotting the flower he'd picked for her from the glade. She picked up the little flower that seemed to glow like silver and pearl, beautiful and iridescent. "Here. Keep this safe for me!" she said, handing it to him.
He smiled, kissing it gently, and slipped it into the tiny book of poetry he always carried with him. "Fair's fair." He took her hand and they went to meet Estrellita. She looked as though she'd been crying.
She led them back to the place they'd first arrived, then turned to them. "You will forget this has happened to you. At least, for a while. After that, I cannot tell. But you will be drawn to each other. I hope your time will come to return here. And that you succeed in your mission…" She reached out and touched both of them on the forehead. "My thoughts will be with you," she murmured as they slid into sleep.
Buffy became aware that she was lying on the ground in a cemetery, and that Spike was holding her hand. "You're holding my hand!" she squeaked in annoyance, pulling away from him.
"God knows why!" he sniped back.
"Well, no more demons tonight. I'm going home."
"Good riddance," he muttered as he watched her retreating form.
Arriving home, Buffy threw her jacket onto the back of her chair, then went to check on Dawn. No one noticed it slide quietly onto the floor, where it lay hidden.
Entering the crypt, Spike threw his book of poetry into his "Buffy" box in disgust. 'She hates me. Poetry won't change that. Specially mine.'
And they forgot.
TBC…
He knew she was watching him, but didn't mind. He could tell she was just enjoying being there, as she usually did. Eventually, she'd come over to him and try to read over his shoulder.
Sure enough, curiosity got the better of her, and she crept over to him, peering over his shoulder. He was at the 'fine-tuning' stage, as he called it, so put the pen down and drew her down onto his knee, wrapping his arm around her. She snuggled up to him, happy just to be close to her beloved Spike.
"Love you," she murmured into his chest.
"Love you, too," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "So much."
"Mm," she smiled, nestling closer to him.
They stayed there quietly, just enjoying each other's presence, the feeling of being close to each other, not needing to say anything. Their contentment and companionship was almost palpable. There was a song in Buffy's heart as she curled up, cat-like, on his lap. Spike wondered inanely if she'd start purring, she looked so happy. He wondered how his own heart hadn't burst with happiness. He kissed her softly, barely more than a gentle touch on her lips.
"Supper?"
"Mm," she replied. "Sounds like a good plan." She uncurled herself and stood up, and they went out to the table to eat.
Estrellita was there waiting for them. They shared a sense of misgiving. She smiled, sadly. "Yes. It is almost time."
"No!" cried Buffy. "I don't want to go home!" Spike was silent, his face set.
Estrellita touched her hand gently. " Some day, you may return. Both of you. But you have responsibilities of your own, people who need you. The hell-god Glorificus is searching for the Key," she stated. "You need to stop her from finding it."
Buffy nodded, biting her lip. "So, if I save the world, I get to come back?" she asked.
Estrellita sighed. "I wish it was as simple as that. Because your task is so difficult and important, I must make you forget your time here. Otherwise, it will distract you from your purpose." She looked at their aghast faces. "You cannot return here until your work is done, and until you have found each other again. If you do not find true love with each other in your own dimension, you will not return here." Her eyes were sad as she said it. "I wish it were not so. Your love is so great. But this is beyond my control. The fate of the world is in your hands."
Buffy was clinging to Spike, sobbing quietly as he tried to comfort her. "Why? Why me?"
"Because you are the chosen one, and there is a part you have yet to play in your own world. But have no fear, I will help you when I may. Though in some things, I may not interfere."
"When do we go?" asked Spike emotionlessly.
"Tomorrow. Your clothes will be in the chest in the morning. Then I will send you back home." She seemed to want to say something more, but only managed a small "I'm sorry," before flitting out into the night.
They didn't feel much like eating, knowing their time there was so short. Buffy cried herself to sleep in Spike's arms. His own side of the pillow was wet before she woke.
They dressed silently in the morning. As Buffy put on her jacket, Spike handed her a wad of papers. "Here. My poetry. I wrote it for you. You may as well keep it."
She gave him a small smile to thank him, and put the poems in her jacket pocket. "Ready?"
"Guess so," he replied.
She sighed, taking a last look round the room that she'd come to love so much. "Wait a minute!" she said, spotting the flower he'd picked for her from the glade. She picked up the little flower that seemed to glow like silver and pearl, beautiful and iridescent. "Here. Keep this safe for me!" she said, handing it to him.
He smiled, kissing it gently, and slipped it into the tiny book of poetry he always carried with him. "Fair's fair." He took her hand and they went to meet Estrellita. She looked as though she'd been crying.
She led them back to the place they'd first arrived, then turned to them. "You will forget this has happened to you. At least, for a while. After that, I cannot tell. But you will be drawn to each other. I hope your time will come to return here. And that you succeed in your mission…" She reached out and touched both of them on the forehead. "My thoughts will be with you," she murmured as they slid into sleep.
Buffy became aware that she was lying on the ground in a cemetery, and that Spike was holding her hand. "You're holding my hand!" she squeaked in annoyance, pulling away from him.
"God knows why!" he sniped back.
"Well, no more demons tonight. I'm going home."
"Good riddance," he muttered as he watched her retreating form.
Arriving home, Buffy threw her jacket onto the back of her chair, then went to check on Dawn. No one noticed it slide quietly onto the floor, where it lay hidden.
Entering the crypt, Spike threw his book of poetry into his "Buffy" box in disgust. 'She hates me. Poetry won't change that. Specially mine.'
And they forgot.
TBC…