Cake

Although Spike never ate, he was very good at making cake.

Buffy suspected it had something to do with his days as a human (which he would tell her next to nothing of, save for he had a mother who was sick, and he wrote bad poetry).

But it didn't really matter where the skills came from. Buffy loved when he baked for her, especially knowing that it was just for her. She loved when he would wake her up with breakfast in bed (which happened surprisingly often), and she loved him with all her heart. She really, truly did.

Light

Buffy and Spike woke up to a sliver of light. They blinked blearily for a moment before realizing: sunlight.

Buffy leapt out of bed to yank the curtain completely shut.

"I told you, we should've slept in my crypt," Spike mumbled. Buffy blushed.

He pulled Buffy back in the bed. "Luv, it's too early. 'm fine now. Come over here."

"Sleeping with a bloodsucker? I know, pet."

"Hey," Buffy said, "I don't mind. Really. I love you - you make sacrifices for love."

They were silent. "Love you too, my Goldilocks."

Eyes

Empty.

Her eyes were empty. There was no spark, nothing. Blank. Staring. Nothing.

The brilliant portal that had shone above vanished. And Buffy lay below, with empty eyes. Dead eyes.

That's when Spike snapped. He broke, shattered. Collapsed, sobbing on the ground.

He hadn't thought he even could cry.

But looking at her, broken and bloody...

There had to have been a way to save her. Something he could have done differently. Faster, stronger, smarter. Something.

He hadn't, though. There was nothing he could do now.

Buffy was dead.

Spike still was, too.

He hadn't really felt it until now.

Horse

Over his hundred-odd years, Spike had accumulated a lot of money. He had never found much use for it, until now.

Once Buffy finally accepted his offer of a date (after he returned from the re-dead), he began to shower her with gifts.

Anything she had ever mentioned wanting: Training machines, stylish and previously unaffordable boots - and a horse.

"I named 'er Anne," he said proudly. "After you, and me mum."

Buffy only gaped. "I-" Words failed her. She had ridden horses as a very little kid, just before her Dorothy Hamill phase.

She thanked him with a kiss.

Blood

With everything Spike and Buffy did, there were limits.

Scratches were fine, but nothing visible.

No handcuffs or ropes. Of any kind.

And above all: No drawing blood.

Buffy didn't trust him not to bite her. And if he bit her, she would have to stake him. The Scoobies would insist.

For all her talk, she didn't want to stake Spike. She liked his company - was even starting to like him.

It scared her. Liking another vampire? She must have been crazy.

So no blood. Blood was warm, and warmth had a whole other set of connotations.

No blood.

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