Buffy barely felt her feet touch the floor, her body still tingling all over with desire. Momentarily dazed by the most passionate kiss of her life, she had no idea how her hands came to be trapped in Spike’s and pressed against his chest. She heard him say something that made absolutely no sense. Feeling more than a little unsteady on her feet, she tried to catch her breath and focus her senses enough to figure out what had brought their frenzied embrace to an abrupt halt. Tilting her chin, she looked up to find Spike gazing down at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Aching to touch the hard muscles of his lean body again, Buffy struggled to free her hands from Spike’s grip without success.
“Buffy,” he repeated, “we need to slow down.”
This time she heard him, but it still didn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand,” she said, insecurity flooding in to replace her willful abandon. “I thought…I mean you said…oh god, you don’t…” She tried to pull away, suddenly regretting her decision to follow her heart instead of her head. But Spike held her, simultaneously keeping her either from continuing her exploration of his body or drawing away.
“Yes, Buffy, please, yes, I do. I want you so much. It’s just…too fast. Oi! I sound like a girl. Please, just promise me you’ll keep your hot little hands to yourself while I explain. I’ll let you go, but you have to promise you’ll listen.”
Once she’d heard him say he wanted her, Buffy stopped trying to get away. Romantic experiences to date hadn’t left Buffy with much confidence, but she was willing to listen, as long as she hadn’t just made a total fool of herself. Taking a deep, calming breath, she looked into Spike’s eyes and found abundant reassurance that lack of lust was not the problem. His eyes, usually brilliant blue, shone dark with desire and something else: determination. She nodded her agreement, and Spike released his grip on Buffy’s hands, but never lost contact with her until he’d slid his hands up to her elbows and guided her gently to the edge of her bed.
“Here, pet, sit down,” he said, his intent gaze never leaving her face. “I’ll do my best to explain something I’m not sure I entirely understand myself.”
Buffy sat down and folded her hands in her lap, never breaking eye contact. She watched as Spike took his own deep, calming breath–despite his lack of a pulse, this was one human habit he never gave up—and closed his eyes as if to steady himself. Buffy’s curiosity was acute, but she stifled the impulse to prompt him. It was clear Spike was choosing his words with care. For reasons she couldn’t express, she felt sure the trouble he was taking to select the right ones was worth the wait.
In just the handful of words he had spoken since breaching the barrier of her bedroom window, Buffy noticed Spike had returned to the voice she’d first heard in the library. This alone brought her full attention to bear as he prepared to speak. He seemed to read her very thoughts when he finally spoke.
“Do you remember the poem that I read to you …yesterday, I guess it was, in the library?” Spike asked.
“Yes, of course,” she replied, “it was beautiful…and a little sad, I guess.”
Spike pursed his lips and quirked his brows in ironic agreement. “Yeah, luv, it is a bit sad at that,” he said, in his more typical and slightly sarcastic drawl. But, when he continued, his cultured tones had returned. “Then you remember it’s about a bloke, a young man, who’s lost his heart?”
“Well, I only heard it once,” Buffy began, “I remember how it felt…not so much what it said.”
Spike smiled softly. “Good girl,” he said.
“Huh?”
“You’ve mastered one of the skills essential to appreciating poetry, Buffy. You need to feel a poem. The words are only a vehicle.”
“Good job, Mr. Tutor. I didn’t even know I was studying!”
Spike’s smile was wide this time. “So, shall I tell it to you again?”
“Only if you know it by heart,” she answered, innocently, “I don’t have the book.”
Spike’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he sat down next to Buffy. “Don’t know if it’s in my heart, seeing as it doesn’t beat, but I know it just the same. Shall I?”
“Well, color me impressed!” Buffy said brightly. “Yes, please, if it’s going to be on the final I could definitely use a refresher course.”
Spike looked down as he wrapped his cool hands around hers. When he recaptured her eyes, Buffy knew she was seeing his unguarded self once more. The sight of Spike’s open, guileless countenance sent a shiver down her spine. If she’d had even a moment to think, Buffy would have realized he was crossing a threshold of great importance. But he began to recite and his voice washed over her obliterating mere thoughts…
I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry;
But where's that wise man, that would not be I,
If she would not deny?
The words were the same, and the voice. But, without the book as a shield, Spike’s face and eyes added fathoms of significance to each phrase. Was it hope that flashed across his features? Even at his measured pace, the words tumbled too fast for Buffy to gather them up for close inspection. Anchoring herself to his open gaze, she let the sense of each stanza sluice over her.
Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.
There, she heard it, a flame of hope in the poet’s words, and echoed in Spike’s voice. And, just as quickly, the hope snuffed out.
But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
Pressing a kiss against the back of her fingers, Spike brought Buffy’s hands to his chest as he intoned the final lines.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when 'tis read.
Both are increasèd by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three.
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
For just a moment, it seemed the last word hung in the air and Spike’s expression shifted to grim resolve. “There it is, luv. That’s what I needed to tell you. I’m like the bloke in the poem. I’m a fool to love at all. To take that risk is certainly foolish. But I’m a double fool for loving a creature so far above me it hurts to think about. And, finally, I’m a triple fool, for knowing all this and still daring to publish that I love—exposing my foolish heart to its harshest judge, the one who can crush it with a glance.”
Buffy stared, eyes wide and shimmering with tears about to spill. “Spike…I don’t know what to say…” she stammered.
“Don’t need to say anything, sweetheart,” he injected, sadness making his voice heavy. “I just need you to understand that I can’t just ravish you--much as my demon self would revel in it. His not-so-evil twin won’t allow a thing that might harm you in any way.” At that, he brought one hand up to Buffy’s check and touched her face as though memorizing its contours with his fingers. “I don’t want you to think I’m anything like those wankers who failed to treasure what you gave them. I wouldn’t do that for the world…for anything…I wouldn’t do that to you.”
He started to rise but Buffy grabbed his arms and pulled him back to his seat on the bed. He uttered a mirthless laugh. “Hey now,” he said, “I don’t think we need a bleeding script to know this is my cue to exit. It’s clear I can’t go forward, and I’m afraid it’s too late to go back. So I’ll just go…
“No, Spike, wait,” Buffy pleaded.
Spike squinted at her, “For what, luv, one last kiss? I don’t suppose it will make it hurt any less. That is, if you’ll allow it.”
Buffy saw her opening and grabbed it. “Yes, a kiss,” she answered. “But only if you’ll listen to me.”
“Oh, Buffy, don’t play with me now,” he said, trying again to pull away from her clinging fingers. “You’d better just let me go, and we’ll see each other again in a few days and we can go on as we always have. No harm, no foul. I promise. I won’t tell a soul. I’ll even help you now and then, you know. I’ll just keep my distance…otherwise.”
"But I don’t want you to…keep your distance,” she said, still holding his wrists to keep him from leaving, a trace of anguish in her voice.
“Ah, but that’s the problem. You think you want something now and I wish I could give it—really I do. But you’ll wake up sorry and I won’t… I can’t be a part of that. You can’t give yourself to me just for fun, Buffy. You’re not like that…and neither, I’m afraid, am I.”
Feeling a little desperate, Buffy tried another tactic. “You’re not being fair,” she said, her eyes sparking at the professed injustice. “You got your turn.”
“Didn’t know we were playing at hopscotch,” he shot back. Internally, he knew he’d relent if she insisted. Guess there’s no point pretending I’d actually deny her anything. Spike mused silently. What the hell. I’ll have plenty of time to polish my Big Bad act once she cuts me loose for good.
“Hopscotch?” Buffy replied brightly, “I didn’t know you played. I ought to challenge you to a game. You know, I was the fourth grade champ at my elementary school.”
“Never mind all that, Buffy,” he said, clearly defeated. “Here I am, then, listening.”
His body relaxed and Buffy acknowledged his willingness to hear her out by releasing the iron grip on his arms.
Now that she finally had her audience, Buffy knew herself well enough not to think too much. She knew she must plunge in, without any of the care her sad and ardent lover had taken with his words. Sitting as close to Spike as she could without touching, Buffy stepped out onto the tip of the metaphorical diving board she’d balanced on for so long and leapt headfirst into unknown waters.
“Maybe I’ve been a fool too,” she began, her voice stronger than expected, her eyes on her hands where they rested in her lap. “For ever imagining the lack of a soul could stop you from loving, when it is so plain that you love with everything you have. And maybe I’ve been a fool for denying myself the one thing I would never deny anyone else, the right to love whoever I wish to love.”
She looked up now and found Spike looking confused, even stunned. “Buffy, what are you saying?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
Tears streaming down her face, Buffy continued. “What if I’ve been a fool for pretending that I’d ever have a 'normal' boyfriend? And what if I’ve been a bigger fool for denying what I’ve felt for you for a while now? And what if I’ve been even more of a fool for lying to you… the only person who’s always completely honest with me, no matter what?”
“That brings us to a total of eight fools in this room,” Spike said, smiling cautiously, “unless I’ve miscounted.”
Buffy smiled back and reached up to catch the tear just beginning to slip down Spike’s cheek. She stared for a moment at the shiny drop captured on her finger. “I love you, Spike,” she whispered. “There’s so much I don’t know about you, but I love you and I don’t want you to go. Please tell me you’ll stay.”
Tbc…….
A/N: Okay, I’m holding my breath here until I hear what you think. Be kind.