A.N : I don't know if it was ever clear if Buffy knew about Cecily telling Spike she was beneath him, but for this story she doesn't. K? K? Good So finally we get some Spuffy(pretty much what I live for) Aaaannnndddd Enjoy! Also A LOT of this chapter is taking from Fool for Love. Whedon owns all…blah blah blah :P
She had to blink a few times to adjust to her surroundings; everyone around her was wearing Victorian style clothing, but Buffy was fixated on a young man perched on a sofa, his hand twitching across parchment. She moved a step closer, and then braved another step. "No way." She breathed softly. A man named William was roughly ten feet from her, tapping his quill impatiently on the paper in his hand. He is muttering to himself, looking irately at paper in front of him. "Care for a hors d'oeuvre sir?" a passing waiter inquired, dipping his tray in front of the man. The man looked up excitedly. "Oh quickly! I'm in the very spirit of vexation. What's another word for "gleaming? It's a perfectly perfect word as many words go but the bother is nothing rhymes, you see." The waiter smiles patronizingly and moved off in the crowd. Spike looked up, his eyes drawn to woman across the room that is just entering the party. "Cecily..." he breathes before scribbling back on his paper.
She watches him for a few seconds before he stands up and moves towards the crowd, paper in hand. He is close enough that she could reach out and touch him, but she doesn't just follows him to the crowd of people, watching his face with interest. She can't hear what they are saying, but Spike's face darkens and the woman who he was so transfixed on, walks away from the crowd. He gives the crowd an angry look, snatches the poem out of their hands and joins Cecily on the couch. Buffy follows, feeling like she is looking in on a private moment as Spike pleads with her. "Oh I know…it's sudden and, please if they are no good, they're only words. But the feeling behind them…" he breaks off proclaiming. "I love you Cecily." "Please stop!" she cried, utterly mortified. Spike puffed his chest out. "I know that I'm a bad poet, but I'm a good man and all I ask is that…that you try to see me." She shook her head slightly meeting the man's eyes. "I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William…You're beneath me." Buffy sucks in a breath, pain sharp in her chest as the woman hurries off. She could barely stand to look at the devastation on his handsome face.
Suddenly the scene changed, Spike was leaning into the Slayers face, lust flooding from his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?" Buffy cried, flinching in disgust. Spike gripped her arms tightly. "Come on. I can feel it Slayer. You know you want to dance." She looks up at him, challenging his gaze. "Say it's true. Say I do what to." She shoves him roughly to the ground, glaring with disgust at him. "It wouldn't be you Spike. It would NEVER be you." She tosses the wad of cash at him, spitting out her next words. "You're beneath me." She stalks off, leaving Spike covered in money. Buffy watched herself disappear in the shadows, her heart stuttering painfully in her chest as she watches Spike gather the cash, stifling sobs. "Oh Spike, "she mourned. "I'm so sorry." He sucked in a deep breath, staring off with rage in his eyes at the path Buffy had just taken home.
Flash…she is sitting on her porch now, inhaling a shaky breath as tears course down her face. She is trying to hold it together. She fails and plunges her head into her knees. Soft footsteps alert her to another presence in the yard and she looks up startled, surprise quickly turning to disgust on her face. "What do you want now?" It is Spike that has interrupted her moment of grief, murder glinting in his eyes. He catches her expression, softens immediately as he lowers the shotgun he is holding. "What's wrong?" she averts her gaze stating softly. "I don't want to talk about it." His head tilts, offering. "Is there something I can do?" Silence is the only answer he gets as he sits next to her on the porch, placing the gun beside him. He lifts a hand, awkwardly patting her back for a few seconds. They look off into the distance, both letting out a sigh as heavy as the weight of the world.
Buffy watched from the bushes, her heart heavy in her chest, remembering the devastating fear for her mother, and the cold camaraderie from the vampire that had joined her in her misery. He had said little the whole night, knowing if he could offer no solution he was better off staying silent. She didn't know how he could know what she had needed from him, and why out of everyone in her life Spike was the only one who understood what she was going through, she never thought to thank him. She didn't even say goodbye when he left, she just babbled on and off all night long. He never mentioned it to her again, didn't hold it against her, didn't use it to try and gain anything from her. Buffy didn't know how she could have been so blind.