"Who do you like?"
     The mirror smiled.
"You like Spike.
     You peevish child."

"I do not like him,"
     Buffy said.
"I'd like to stake him,
     See him dead."

"Tut, tut, you liar.
     You're not mad.
Your heart's on fire.
     You have it bad."

"It can not be.
     He has no soul.
It's my life.
     He plays no role.

"He follows me,
     He steals my stuff.
He says he loves me.
     Enough's enough!"

"To see him dusted,
     Would be good.
I think I will,
     I think I should."

"You know you won't.
     You talk real big.
You say, then don't.
     You zag, then zig.

"He's stuck it out.
     In every fight.
Without a doubt.
     Wrong or right.

"Soul or not,
     His love is true.
The fault, my friend,
     Is inside you.

"Buffy Anne,
     He waits for you.
Buffy Anne,
     What will you do?"

"I want to fall
     In love again,
But fear is all,
     I can't begin."

"Confess your need.
     Confess your doubt.
Shed a tear.
     Talk it out!"

So to his side.
     Love gave her voice.
Love was her guide.
     Love gave no choice.

His skin was cold,
     His eyes were warm.
Her pain was old.
     He'd do no harm.

Around her wrapped
     His arms so tight.
He'd never thought he'd
     Have the right.

And then they kissed,
     They kissed and kissed.
Drinking pleasures
     So long missed.

Thus ends the tale
     I can relate,
Of the Slayer,
     And her mate.