To Be a Good Man by CutieSaiyajin

[Reviews - 13]

Printer | Microsoft Word | ePub eBook | For Visually Impaired |

Table of Contents

- Text Size +

This Has been viewed 7173 times

Chapter Notes: The is a sequel to a little poem-ficlet I wrote called For Buffy. You don't really need to read that one first to get this. All you need to know is that Spike wrote a poem to Buffy, but never gave it to her, and in this ficlet, Buffy finds it. Also, this takes place in an alternate season six where Buffy and Spike eventually got together.
Title: To Be a Good Man

Author: CutieSaiyajin

Rating: G / PG

Genre: Romance, Poetry

Summary: Buffy finds a poem written by Spike to her, and decides to write one to him in return.

NOTE: The is a sequel to a little poem-ficlet I wrote called For Buffy. You don't really need to read that one first to get this. All you need to know is that Spike wrote a poem to Buffy, but never gave it to her, and in this ficlet, Buffy finds it.

This takes place in an alternate, happy, post-Season 6 world.

Another note: I always seem to have trouble with spacing, so I've used "X"s where I wanted more than a double space. Probably looks weird, and I apologize for that. But I needed more than a double space in certain parts of this, so... yeah.




Buffy had been looking at him weird all evening.

Since he'd gotten up, infact, and Spike just couldn't figure out why.

He'd come downstairs around five-thirty in the p.m., and given his love a good "morning" kiss. Buffy had obliged, and then pulled him into an embrace so tender he'd almost wanted to weep. He still couldn't believe she was his, sometimes.

She'd pulled back, and the weatlth of gratitude in her beautiful hazel eyes had nearly floored him.

And Spike couldn't figure out what he'd done to deserve it.

Now, six hours later, they were patrolling. It was a slow night, though, and Spike couldn't help but have been super-aware of the almost shy glances his girl had been throwing at him all evening.

His curiousity couldn't stand another second of it.

"All right, that's enough."

Buffy paused, startled by Spike's abrupt statement.

"Enough of what?" she asked curiously.

"Your eyes!"

"My eyes," Buffy said blankly.

"Yes. You've been lookin' at me all night with those eyes," Spike said, a little frustrated in his confusion.

"Ah. Okay. So... I'm not allowed to look at you anymore?"

"I didn't say that."

"You said you've had enough of my eyes, quote, 'looking at you all night,'"

Spike sighed. He never thought before he opened that big mouth of his, did he?

"I'm sorry, luv, it's jus'... you've been lookin' at me weird all evenin'. Something on your mind, pet?"

"Yes," Buffy said shortly, then dug around in her coat pockets a moment before withdrawling an envelope.

"Here," she handed it to him, and he could see his name written in her girly handwriting on the front. "It's for you," she said, still sounding miffed. "I'll just take my weird eyes away from your presence so you can read it."

She looked indignant, but Spike could see the blush staining her cheeks. He tried calling after her, but she didn't look back as she huffed away, and he sighed sadly.

Turning his attention to the envelope, Spike pried the top open, then carefully removed the pages inside.

Unfolding the papers, Spike curiously began to read what was apparently a letter to him, from Buffy.




I was cleaning the basement today, and while I was moving some of your stuff, a letter fell out of a box. It had my name on the envelope, so I opened it.

Only it turns out, it wasn't a letter, but a poem. To me --about me-- , from you.

I don't why you never gave it to me, though as I write this I think I'm beginning to understand. Still, love is a leap, and I hope that if you write me more stuff in the future, that you'll be brave enough to show it to me.

Because I loved it.

And you're not a bad poet, Spike, and you're not a bad man. Being "soulless" doesn't mean anything. It took me a while to realize it, and I'm sorry. But you've shown me that it's true.

You're a good man, William, all of you, and I hope someday you can see in yourself the man I see everyday.

It's not as good as yours, but I wrote a poem for you, too, to remind you how good a person you are. If a time ever comes where you ever doubt yourself, or my love, read this.

And remember.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

What is a soul,

Compared to you?


A soul can't be seen

A soul can't be heard

It cannot be felt, or smelt



You don't need a soul

To be a good man

You only need love

You only need heart

You only need goodness

And that's just a start


To be a good man

It must show everyday

In all that you do

And all that you say


You must be a good lover

A brother

A friend

You must show compassion

And then,


Your goodness will show

Others will see it, too

Only what good is your goodness

If you can't see it, too?


So to realize your worth,

You'll just have to see

The goodness you show

Reflected in me


You saved me, Spike

From my pit of despair

You're a good man, William

I'm glad you were there


And here you are still,

Watching over me

And watching my sister

And even my friends... see?


You are a good man

It shows in all that you do

Never doubt my love, Spike

For I'll always love you


I know we'll still fight

And we'll probably yell

But hey, atleast I'm not thinking

Of sending you to Hell (Ok, that was a bad one...)


So when you're in doubt, just remember this still:

I love you, my vampire,

And I always will.



Spike was weeping like a nancy boy, but he didn't care.

He suddenly realized why him calling Buffy out on the "weird looks" she'd been giving him had seemingly ticked her off.

She was embarassed. And afraid. His Slayer rarely expressed her feelings so tangibly, and so bluntly. She showed her love in actions, not words.

That she was willing to write him a poem -and actually give it to him, something he'd failed to to with his own written words to her- was a huge thing for her. A leap, as she'd put it.

And it was a huge thing for him, too, Spike realized, as he wiped away his tears.

Tenderly folding the pieces of paper back into the envelope, Spike tucked it into the safety of one of his inside duster pockets.

And he turned towards home.

To Buffy.





Sitting, legs curled up to her chest, arms folded around them, Buffy looked up shyly at the vampire.


There was silence for a moment, as neither knew quite what to say.

Scratch that, Spike had a thousand things he wanted to say. Sonnets, ballads, whole symphonies declaring his love for the woman sitting infront of him ran through his head, but he spoke none of them.

Instead, Spike simply sat beside his love, and pulled her into his arms.

Sighing softly, Buffy unfolded, finally relaxing, and turned into his embrace.

"I love you, Buffy," he breathed softly into her hair.

Smiling, Buffy pulled back. Wiping a stray tear from Spike's cheek, she replied.

"I love you, too."




Sappy? Yes. But you know you loved it! Also, I apologize for the cheesiness of the poem. I'm no poet, heh.

I'm out of ideas for now, but if I come up with a sequel idea for this, I'll definitely write it.


Enter the security code shown below:

Note: You may submit either a rating or a review or both.