Chapter 4 – In A Darkened Room A few days later, post- 'Hell's Bells'
"No one knows what it's like…"
She heard the singing when she had almost reached the Bronze, while walking up the approaching street. It was obviously coming from inside, its clear tones carrying faintly through the night time air. There was something very familiar about it.
"…to be the bad man…"
She reached the door of the venue, the voice still being heard over the low murmur of conversation from a few small groups of people gathered outside, most of them smoking. The smell caught in her nostrils as she wove through the smokers, bringing Spike instantly to mind, and she tried to imagine him singing. She giggled to herself quietly.
"…to be the sad man…"
She passed through the main entrance, and headed inside. The atmosphere within was dark, with only low ambient lighting and gentle, coloured spotlights on the stage. Tara looked around for people she knew, and, seeing none, headed over to the bar.
"…behind blue eyes."
The voice, louder in here, was coming from the stage, which a quick glance showed to hold a lone musician, sitting on a stool lightly plucking an acoustic guitar, a microphone held on a stand before him.
"No one knows what it's like…"
She started to lean forwards over the bar to speak quietly to the barman, and then spun back around to face the stage as her mind at last registered what she had seen. She stared at the figure on the stage, her jaw dropping slightly open, and she was sure her eyes were bulging.
"…to be hated…"
He was up there on the stage, slumped over a big, dark brown acoustic guitar, which seemed to have too many strings. He was wearing black jeans and an unbuttoned dark red shirt, over a tight black t-shirt. His eyes were closed, and there was a sincerity in his face that she wouldn't have believed possible. His blond hair was gelled back, sharp as ever, still giving him the bad-boy image, but today it seemed to say less 'killer in the shadows' and more 'rock star.' And that voice…
"…to be fated…"
That voice carried with it a century of pain, anguish and inner turmoil, yet with a level of purity she thought even the best of choirboys would find challenging. She had heard him sing once before, when they had been drunk, and she couldn't remember it very clearly, but this was something else entirely. Somehow, Spike singing wasn't at all funny, like when she had pictured it a few moments before. It was scary, to see that coming from him, but also… something else.
"…to telling only lies."
Tara leaned back against the bar on her elbows, distantly trying to sip her drink, her brain still reeling from shock. In that strange state of mind, that one lyric seemed to cut through, to instantly bring up images of when Spike had turned the scoobies against each other, while he was working with Adam, lying and manipulating, masterfully driving them apart. She was now so familiar with the blond vampire that followed Buffy around, and took beatings to protect Dawn, that she rarely remembered how malicious he could be. A slight frown clouded her features.
"But my dreams, they aren't as empty…"
His voice rose, gaining strength as he hit the chorus, his head tipping back a bit, eyes still closed. And in that moment, she saw it, as if it were right in front of her: The hope held within him, the goodness she had seen in him since last summer, the kindness in his heart which she had experienced over the last few days, and the love he was so eager to share. And she knew then that he was more than capable of redemption, and she smiled. Spike, she was certain now, was worth saving.
"…as my conscience seems to be."
He didn't seem to think so, as far as she could tell. All that charm and confidence was there on the surface, and it wasn't a sham, he really was that confident, that sure of himself. And yet, it was only skin-deep. He knew he was good looking, he knew he was a good fighter, and from what she could tell, he knew he was a good lover - in the sense that he would do anything for those he loved, and take any hardship to protect them. Not in the sense that he was a good shag, as he'd phrase it. Although, now she considered it, she found it hard to imagine him lacking confidence in that particular area. More worryingly, she had now considered it, it was quite a struggle to banish the sudden image from her mind.
"I have hours, only lonely…"
It was a shocking, horrendously unexpected image, much like that of the vampire on the stage, yet not as unpleasant as she once would have thought. Talk about new territory… The last time she had seen Spike, he'd been heading out of the door at the wedding, dragging a nameless girl after him. She hadn't been able to go after him then, and wasn't sure if he'd have wanted the company anyway, what with three being a crowd.
"…my love is vengeance, that's never free."
Spike had brought a date to the wedding to make Buffy jealous, she understood that. What she couldn't quite decide was whether that was to try to cause Buffy pain, or to see if she still cared, or both. She'd tried to comfort him about Buffy as best she could, and advised him to avoid her if possible, just like she herself had been with Willow. And things with Willow seem to be…evolving…and I still don't know if that's good or bad. The problems might still be there, she didn't know. But, there was nothing like being saved from angry wedding guests by Willow in that dress.
"No one knows what it's like…"
Whatever behaviour Tara had suggested, she hadn't really expected Spike to go along with simply avoiding Buffy, and holding back when he saw her. It wasn't that she didn't think he was capable of such restraint, to take the cautious approach, more that it wasn't his style – Spike really wasn't the sort to stand by and do nothing.
"…to feel these feelings…"
It could have been a lot worse, really. It had hurt Buffy, to be sure, Tara had seen that in her eyes, but hurt was only to be expected after a break up really. If Willow had hooked up with someone else, then, yeah… it would hurt like Hell, she thought bitterly, no denying that. Goodness knows how the rebound girl must have felt – Dawn had clearly not held her in high regard, but Tara was sure the girl must have still had feelings, and realised what was going on, why she was there, and that couldn't have been pleasant for her.
"…like I do…"
But it wasn't like Spike had got violent, which she had to admit, forcing herself to remember his nature, was quite remarkable for a vampire, especially with the one person he was physically capable of hitting. And sure, turning up with someone new just to cause envy was the kind of thing people did in high school, not those who've been around for over a century, but it had sort of worked, hadn't it? Not quite the end result Spike had wanted, but it had seemed to help, knowing that Buffy really cared.
"…and I blame you."
When did he write this? She hadn't noticed the guitar in his crypt before, she supposed it had been stashed away downstairs somewhere, and she now had images of him sitting alone on his bed, strumming away and trying to express how he felt. And doing a pretty good job! Back when she had lived with her family, she had, in some dark hour, tried to find comfort by writing all her feelings down, to get it all out there. She hadn't been able to keep a diary, not one she could be honest in, in case her father had found it, but she had occasionally tried to write songs or poems. Completely unsuccessfully, too.
"No one bites back as hard…"
Poems… She then remembered how Spike had reacted to Dawn's homework the other day, a whole new hidden depth that even she, who would like to think she kept an open mind about him, had not previously perceived, and would not believe to have existed. But that familiarity with poetry, and the obvious expertise with which he'd expressed himself in song… Maybe he wasn't quite such a tough guy when he was human. Could he really have been a poet?
"…on their anger…"
That line was surely a reference to his behaviour since they put the chip in his head, learning to restrain his impulses as a predator, to conform to the social graces of those he would have seen as below him. She wondered if he still thought like that, considering the way he felt about Buffy.
"…and none of my pain and woe…"
But it was also likely to refer to how he had acted since the two of them had broken things off, particularly at the wedding, and a distinct lack of him trying to torture her, as he had during a certain previous romance. They were true, the words he sang – no one bit back on their anger as hard as he. Any of the other scoobies, when confronted, would likely respond with aggression of some kind, often without considering the consequences. Willow, if she wanted something changed, would simply do it. Maybe I'm not ready to get back with her, not yet…
"…can show through."
Somehow, he had managed to talk about complete opposites in the same sentence, she thought. Goodness knew how, but he had done it. The mention of anger, that was as she had originally thought, being about keeping his temper in check with Buffy and her friends, but the rest of that line, the pain and woe, well, a different theory was rapidly forming in her mind about that bit. If she was right, about Spike having a more timid nature as a human, then that phrase referred to suppressing all that as the 'big bad,' trying not to show emotion to keep up his image.
"But my dreams, they aren't as empty…"
Tara became more certain she was correct, he really had been a poet once, or a musician, a tortured artist of some kind. And he felt it still, but hid it behind a near-impenetrable wall of bluster and bravado. I really doubt he'd appreciate me realising that, she thought with a small giggle. Spike would only worry about the dent it would leave in his image, but to Tara, it made him far more beautiful. Oh dear, dangerous word there! But, trying to examine it, she honestly couldn't deny it – she looked up at him there, saw into his heart, and he really was beautiful.
"…as my conscience seems to be."
She knew, technically, that he didn't have a heart, not one that beat. Or a soul, for that matter. And yet, there he sat, living – no, unliving – proof, with feelings, emotions, hopes and dreams, stronger than she'd ever seen in anyone else. In anyone human. She wondered if that meant he had a conscience too, since the song brought it up. Apparently, yes.
"I have hours, only lonely…"
She had a strange, haunting feeling that she'd heard the song somewhere before, but that was impossible. She'd never heard Spike sing before, well, not properly, and it was unlikely that he'd teach a song that personal to anyone else, not that she could see him teaching any song to anyone else, but certainly not this one. And anyway, from the sound of it, he'd only written it in the last few days, so there was no way she could have heard it. Maybe it was just his voice that gave it that spine-tingling feeling.
"…my love is vengeance, that's never free."
She knew she should go and find him afterwards, not just to see how he was, but also to let him know how much she appreciated the song, and understood what he meant. She wanted to, but the trouble was how to do that without embarrassing him, and causing him to completely close in on himself, hiding behind his protective shell, metaphorically speaking, but literalised with that coat of his and the swagger that came with it.
"When my fist clenches, crack it open..."
Tara had been gazing off into space, wondering how she could encourage him to open up to her, as she once had about her knowing he and Buffy were sleeping together, but that one line pulled her right back into the moment. Who was it aimed at? As she began to wonder, her gaze returned to the figure on the stage, as if seeking answers there, and abruptly realised she'd found them. His eyes had opened, and they were focused unblinkingly on her.
"…before I use it, and lose my cool."
As he finished that line, Spike closed his eyes again, and he seemed to gaze through his eyelids into middle-distance. But for that one moment, that single line, his eyes had found hers, and she was sure she knew why. Not sure as in convinced, but as in certain, somehow she knew it to be true. How he had known she was there, she wasn't sure – perhaps his vampire sense of smell had identified her presence sometime during the song, or maybe his enhanced hearing had picked out and recognised her voice when she had ordered her drink, and then found her location by her heartbeat. But the reason for his eye contact, she knew – that line, asking someone to hold them back, a plea for help in a moment of weakness – that had been aimed at her.
"If I smile, tell me some bad news…"
And with that certainty, accompanied by the realisation that he clearly thought highly enough of her to talk about her in a song, and this song at that, baring his paradoxical soul, she felt her thoughts drifting, refusing to focus, wandering through memories and images brought to mind as he sang, the music growing in energy and intensity as she threw herself into it...
"…before I laugh, and act like a fool."
Spike laughing with her in the pub a few days before, his head rolling back slightly, looking up at the ceiling, laughing out loud, shaking with merriment, his warm smile almost contorted with glee…
Spike looking quite the fool, flushing slightly, clearly thinking on his feet but knowing how ridiculous he must sound as he tried to justify 'a muscle cramp… in his pants…'
"And if I swallow anything evil…"
Spike flinching and crying out, his hands flying up to clasp the sides of his head, a split-second after his fist made contact with her face.
"…put your fingers down my throat."
Spike kidnapping an Initiative doctor with Harmony in a desperate attempt to get the chip out of his head. And now, Spike hoping that if anything like that ever happened again, someone would be there for him.
"If I shiver, give me a blanket…"
Spike frantically knocking on Mr Giles' front door, smouldering beneath a blanket, shaking with hunger and fatigue, appealing to them for mercy for the first time after escaping from the Initiative. Tara hadn't been there, but Willow had mentioned it.
"…keep me warm, let me wear your coat."
Spike's eyes widening in shock, not the quirky eyebrow when he was amused, confused or intrigued, but genuine surprise as she quickly unbuttoned her shirt and tore it off her back, tying it around his arm. His lightning fast change of reactions, first following his surprise with a leer, suppressed a quarter second later as he resolutely turned his back. And then, a true gentleman, when he had wrapped her up in his trenchcoat and refused to allow her to take it off.
"No one knows what it's like…"
Spike's voice quietened down again, and he pulled right back on his strumming. His eyes were still closed, his head now bowed between phrases, lifting it only enough to reach the microphone. The whole venue had gone deathly silent, all staring at him, completely entranced. Tara didn't notice she was holding her breath.
"…to be the bad man…"
Spike, standing in the middle of a road, late at night, his hair perfectly arranged, his long black coat blowing in the wind, as various demons move closer to attack him, then think better of it and back off again.
"…to be the sad man…"
Spike looking straight at her, a haunted look on his face, but also appearing concerned, his hair a scruffy mess, as it had been the other night after the demon attack, a plain black t shirt making him appear a rather diminutive figure, an image so different from the previous one that she found it hard to believe they could be the same person.
"…behind blue eyes."
As he sang that last phrase, his head came up, and he opened his eyes. Tara gasped and nearly dropped her drink. Spike's eyes were a piercing blue, deep as the sea despite the light colouring, and more beautiful than she had ever imagined. She had, of course, seen them before, but it didn't feel like it. She had heard people talk of seeing into each others' souls before, but never experienced it, not like that. She felt almost naked as his eyes swept across the crowd, lingering on her for a second. She thought his vampire senses might have heard her gasp, but those next to her had not, it being lost beneath thunderous applause.
