I got it in my head to write a mini Buffy fic, but I didn't really know what I was writing until I was finished. Since this is my first, it's more of a study of thought than anything, and I'm working with what's already there; I 'ship Buffy/Faith, but since unrequited Spike/Buffy is canon, here it is. It seemed a little odd to me, the part where Spike got his soul back, so here's my rationalization.
I don't own Buffy: The Vampire Slayer.
A Question of Content
She's a disease, creeping into you from all sides, consuming you and hurting every inch of you. You're on fire and you're freezing and you constantly have the chills, all because of her. And she doesn't love you.
You love her, though. You don't know the exact moment you fell in love with her, but you think it must be somewhere around the time her mother hit you over the head. She'd been so brave then, risking her life and enrollment to save the same people who gave her hell every day.
It would have been amazing, if it hadn't been so...disgusting. And puzzling; that kind of loyalty is rarely seen in humans, and even less so in slayers.
But she isn't just a slayer. She's The Slayer, the only one who was ever more than a conquest, a notch on your belt. Look, I just did in the slayer. She's too good for that. You're not capable of that, anymore.
But she doesn't. Love. You.
You tell her she does. You tell her she wants you, that you're the only one who can really understand her, but you're only lying to yourself because she knows the truth. You don't know how to show affection. She does need you, that much is sure, and for more than just practical reasons; she doesn't need a little monster in her man, as much as a little monster in her life. And you know why that is.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer has the potential to be the biggest monster of them all. She won't embrace that side of herself; instead, she uses you as a measuring stick. She hates you, because you remind her of who she could be – who she is. She hates you because there is something wrong inside, spitting and clawing, and you draw it out so well.
She didn't come back wrong. She came back guilty. She's ashamed of the anger, ashamed of the hurt. She's wrapped up in shoulds and shouldn'ts she's not even aware of and you can hurt her because she wants to be hurt. She wants to be punished. You could do that for her, but she still thinks you're beneath her. And you are.
Once or twice, you've thought about explaining yourself. You don't know how to show affection in the right way; the only women you've ever loved have pushed you away, insulted you, or abused you, and your passion expected you to return that in kind. It's the way you like it, the dynamic you crave, but she's wrong about being in love with pain; you love the pain because you love the woman. But how can you say that to her? Now, it's impossible.
She is exquisite. She is above reprehension, above torment. Above you. This is not the quickest decision you've ever made, but this is The Decision. This is the part where it all unravels and you end up a disaster, but you hope you're reusable. It's all you can do, and it's all for her.
You need a little monster in your woman. But she needs a little soul in her man.