Part 6
Spike sat down on the chair he had placed in front of the telly and stared at the package. What could be in it he wondered?
Finally, he tore into the wrappings and two books fell out. The first book was old, and in terrible condition, but he knew in an instant what it was. It was the journal that he used to write his poetry in. He stared in disbelief. Reverently, he laid it aside and picked up the other volume. It was a copy of all his poems, bound in a leather cover.
Suddenly, the crypt door swung open.
"Hi Spike," said Buffy as she casually twirled a stake between her fingers. "Whatcha got there?"
"Oh, nothing you'd bloody care about," he said as he tried to gather the bundle together again to hide it from her prying eyes.
"Come on Spike, you know you want to show me," Buffy taunted as she moved slowly across the room to him.
"Oh I've got lots of things I want to show you Slayer," Spike said softly, "but this isn't one of them."
Buffy eased up next to Spike and began to plant soft kisses along his jaw line. "Come on Spike, you know I'm going to see it, one way or the other, why waste our time making that hard?"
Spike tried so hard to resist her, but he'd lusted after her for so long. And now that lust was turning to love, he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that.
"Fine. You can look at this," he snarled rather insincerely, handing her the bound book of poetry, "but the other is off limits. It's personal."
Buffy took the book and sat down in Spike's chair. "The Complete Works of William the Bloody Spike. Oh Spike, read me one of your poems," she crooned to him.
Spike took the volume from her hands, swinging her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. "I'll show you a poem slayer," he growled as he laid her on the bed and crawled up beside her.
A banging noise from outside his crypt shocked Spike out of his daydream. He looked quickly around and said out loud, "I'd better hide these before Buffy gets here."