Chapter 15 Into the light
The water swirled down the drain as though it were dancing. It was able to get out, escape, though maybe it wasn't by its' own choice. The handle was turned and out it came, downward to meet its' fate. So, maybe it wasn't so much dancing as it was trying to hang on for dear life. Spike understood that feeling. It was, after all, what he was doing too.
He didn't need to shower. It was the only way to get five minutes peace. They were constantly watching him. Not all together. That'd be ridiculous, even for them. One at a time, it seemed. Someone was always right there with him and if he even so much as looked at one of the few instruments that could hurt him, they were prepared to call Buffy over in a moment's notice. There was nothing that could be done for now. He had missed the window of opportunity. Now, all that was left for him was the heaviness on his chest that reminded him of what an empty shell he truly was. The weight was back. He had failed to escape it.
There were moments where he felt like he had never escaped Wood. But then, that would be accurate. He didn't escape Wood. He had been saved. That wasn't the point.
The point was, whether he was down in the initiative or not, he was imprisoned. Locked in his own mind. And locked into the expectations of others. He was suffocating. Not just because of this suicide watch that they had put him on.
"Hey, Spike. You okay in there?" Xander called from outside the door.
Ah, seriously? He was fairly certain there were mental institutions that had lighter security than this. And wouldn't that be where he'd have been placed right now if he wasn't a vampire? Maybe he needed that. He knew the way he felt wasn't right. He wanted to not feel this way, but there was nothing to be done.
"Spike?" Xander's voice went up in concern.
"Bloody hell." Spike swore under his breath. "I'm fine!"
Sure, he was fine. That's why it had taken all of his strength just to be able to say that loud enough for Xander to hear it from out in the hallway. He didn't want to be asked questions. He didn't want anything directed at him. It'd be better if he were left alone. Aside from what he would do if he were ever left alone. If, for some reason, he wasn't able to finish himself off when alone next time, he could at least process his thoughts. It didn't help, but he carried the illusion around with him that maybe if he were able to think his thoughts through, then he'd finally see things in a way that he hadn't seen them before. It didn't matter that he knew that wouldn't be the case. He wanted the chance anyway. If he wasn't going to be able to convince himself that his unlife could possibly be good again, he could at least be granted the right to mope over how bad it had become. He didn't want to do that in front of other people after all. It didn't matter how many of them had seen him in the dark already. He didn't want them to see it anyway. Besides, he had never been a fan of being crowded.
His arms felt weak. They were kind of sore, particularly around the elbows. He didn't know why he kept thinking of it. He felt it when he moved, so that could have been reason enough for it. It was stuck in his mind. It was such a contrast from the way that he used to feel. He felt weak. He felt as though he were dying. He had only ever died once. He never had forgotten, that sensation as life drained from him. The problem was, normally, it got nice and peaceful after the pain had passed. Each night, every moment that passed by, it wasn't a moment closer to that peace. It was always the moments leading up. It was always him screaming inside, not being able to breathe, faint with agony, but knowing that the final dusting was a privilege he was not gonna be granted any time soon, and that no one were coming to his rescue.
Funny that. They were trying to come to his rescue. He knew the lot of them were, which he couldn't entirely figure. Even so, it still felt like no one heard him screaming. He figured it was because they couldn't resolve it. He didn't expect them to, and yet, part of him wished that some of their words had reached him. He wished they had some profound perspective that his mind had been too cloudy to have seen. There was always a new spin on everything that came his way. His mind never tired of this new exercise that it had taken up and reminded him so much of when he was human. Alive. No purpose. Self-loathing. He had been too crippled to have any kind of potential back then. A sad sap tripping all over his words. What was he now? Was he really any better than that? His body was too weak to support the weight that his soul and mind were carrying and it really was a true wonder that he could bring himself to do anything but curl into himself on his bed. He may not have always felt this low, but all the reasons why he should have in the past were still there. The difference was that he finally realized them now. He realized them and he had added to them.
Spike remained under the water for a minute more, but the sound of Xander shuffling outside of the door reached his ears. It wasn't impatience, not completely. It was enough to let him know that if he didn't get a move on, Xander would be knocking at the door again, wondering if he had somehow programmed the shower to shoot out holy water. It was a good idea. Too bad Spike wasn't handy in such a way.
With the sound of the shower going off, he reached for a towel and stood in front of the mirror as he wrapped it around himself. He stared into the glass as though he could see himself. He pictured the bags under his eyes; the frailness of his body that he knew wasn't as bad as he pictured it being. He looked in the mirror and he saw nothing. It was an accurate and appropriate reflection, really.
Once he had dried off and dressed he made his way to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. Xander stood on the other side with an unreadable expression. Spike didn't make a move past him. He almost wondered if Xander was going to pat him down to make sure that he hadn't managed to bottle up some of that imaginary shower holy water that he seemed to believe was in there.
Xander didn't do this though, he stepped aside, and Spike walked past him, down through the hallway, with Xander following.
"How do you feel?" Xander asked.
"Nauseous." Spike responded honestly. What was the point in pretending anymore? They all knew what he wanted to do. They knew how badly he wanted it. He found that he didn't really care that they knew anymore. He just cared that they wouldn't leave him alone because of it.
Xander was a bit surprised by the bluntness of his answer. He figured he'd be told to sod off. If Spike hadn't already tried to meet his dusty end, Xander would have found this to be grounds for even deeper concern. It couldn't go much deeper than it already was.
"Any thoughts in particular you want to share that's making you feel that?" Xander inquired.
Spike looked up at him curiously. "Why are you on suicide watch when you're on crutches? Don't they know that I could push right past you? Get what I want easily with you standing on guard?"
Xander thought about that for a second before answering. "I guess that's true. Except for the part where you get what you want. All I have to do is call for Buffy and she'll come running. All you need is to have eyes on you. And if Buffy's out, well, we've got a witch who has taken up residence here. She's more than enough to keep you safe."
Spike nodded. It was true. He had been able to get past Xander before, but with Buffy coming in that was the end of it. She was only a floor apart. Trapped all over again. A prison of a different sort. At least this one had nicer bars.
"What happened to you?" Xander asked suddenly, not expecting the question to come out of his mouth. The look on his face giving away that it had been an accident.
Spike gazed at him for a moment. Now it was his turn to wear an expressionless face.
"You already know that."
Xander paused. "I know you were hurt."
Spike lifted an eyebrow. "That get you off then? You want the gory details. Fulfill whatever fantasy that you have left over from when I was evil?"
"No!" Xander spoke quickly. "That's not what I meant. I never wanted you tortured, Spike. Even when you were evil. I had my limits." Hadn't they covered this already when he tried to get him to do the dirty deed of dusting him? Spike was really hanging onto this idea that Xander had some dark desire to do him in. He wasn't really sure how he felt about that…
"That's the difference, innit?" Spike shrugged. "Between a real white hat and rouge one. Boundaries."
"It's the difference between good and evil." Xander answered simply.
"Maybe." Spike shrugged. "Then again. Maybe not."
"What does that mean?" Xander looked at him confused.
Spike didn't respond this time.
"I can't get a good read on him." Xander reported while putting the weapon's chest back together in the Hyperion.
"What do you mean?" Fred asked as she sat behind the counter watching Xander do his work. She did have to admit, it came in handy having a Carpenter around.
"Eerie. That's the word." Xander clarified.
"Eerie?" Buffy sat up on the counter near Fred.
Buffy needed to be down here. She couldn't be up there, in his room right now, not after their last encounter. Who was she kidding? It had been their last several encounters. She found that everything she did now worried her, was too heavy for him to handle, or was too insensitive. She had tried though. Tried her darnest to get through to him, and make him see how much she cared, and how dearly she wanted to be there for him. Spike hadn't exactly been accepting of it, well, in the believing it sort of sense. Appreciation, yes, but he seemed to think it was out of some kind of pity. She was going to have to have another conversation with him about this. She was going to have to make it very clear that she meant exactly what she said, about her feelings for him. She didn't blame him for questioning it. Her own words sticking out in mind as she thought on this. You're beneath me. You're just convenient. I'm using you. I love you was a big jump from those selected statements. She was going to have to prove it to him. Hopefully, this would at least be something that she could do right.
Xander sighed. "It's not anything specific he's saying, but it's the way he's saying it. Or, actually, it is specific things he's saying, thinking on it."
"Like what?" Fred asked curiously.
"Well, there's the whole him making with the answers to your questions." Xander recalled. "He doesn't avoid things as much as he was before. Yeah, sure, he can be cryptic guy with the details, but he's more straight up when it comes to giving you a basic idea of what you're wondering about."
Buffy paused at this curiously. "Really?"
"Why? There something you want an answer to?" Xander asked.
"Isn't there a question we've all been wondering about?" Buffy retorted.
Xander paused for a moment, looking at her as realization struck this. "Who was behind this?"
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Spike sat in front of the window looking out at the night sky. When people gazed out at infinite space, staring up at the stars, they often found themselves feeling small, insignificant. For whatever reason this comforted people. It did the opposite for Spike. He wanted to matter. No. It wasn't quite that ambitious. He just wanted a purpose. Perhaps that was the same thing, but then it depended on the scale of to what he wanted his purpose to matter. He always felt that his desire was no greater than the bloke down the street, but he wanted that purpose. More than that, he wanted to have a right to having a purpose. He had no right. So, when he stared up at the sky and tried to feel comfort in being insignificant, it only made him realize that he was significant, but in all the worst ways. He had taken a whole lot of "insignificant" lives. No longer could they looked up at giant sky or into the great big sea, or wherever the bloody hell it was that people went to put their existence down in the most positive of ways. No longer could they feel comfort that they were very small in the grand scheme of things. The funny thing was, they weren't small. Spike knew that. He worked with people that proved there were very big things that a very small entity could do, especially when they got together to make that something happen.
He snorted at the thought. It was all very after school special.
He had been part of that after school special too. It didn't matter if he had a right to do it; it was worth it for the very fact that he had helped save the world. The purpose might not have belonged to him, but he had saved lives. He didn't regret that at the very least. It was the one time the place in the machine that was being operated didn't depend on someone worthy. It didn't matter so long as the job got done. Yet, to do a hero's job was a lie, he figured it. He'd be living as something that he wasn't and that seemed worse to him in the long run. It might help, but his existence was a lie.
Huh. Interesting. He could see why people did this. You didn't have to feel small and insignificant to be given some kind of clarity. The sky had spoken. He was a fraud.
Who was he kidding? That was the least of it. Yes, having a soul made him crave some sort of a destiny. It was part of being as human as he was ever going to get.
But maybe his mind just didn't want to focus on the other things that suffocated him. The memories of being down with Wood, God no one had ever made him scream so much in his life. Then again, the darkest forms of torture could do that to a bloke. He was worn out and angry and it was hard to be both at the same time, because they were such rivals. He just wanted to bounce back. Why did he dwell on the things that The First said to him down in the initiative and why did he, even more, still go back to the first time The First had taken him as prisoner? Yeah, there was that. He had moved on alright, that is, until he had been snatched up again. If you throw a guy in front of a car and then pick him up and throw him in front of a car again, don't you think he's going to be even worse off than if it had just happened the one time? He had been damaged after what The First did to him, but he pushed forward. He always did. They were in a constant state of war. No one had time to lick their wounds slowly. Now, it just hurt. It hurt all the time and he was so tired. But he was also so angry with himself for not being able to bounce back this time. He was a vampire. He had experienced darker than this, done darker than this, hadn't he? This shouldn't be such a big deal.
"Spike…" Dawn's voice came from behind him. She had sat there for a little bit, watching him, noticing his pensive gaze out the window, and wondering what he was thinking about.
"Your turn to watch me, is it then?" Spike spoke without turning towards her.
"Yeah. I've been here for about five minutes." She responded.
If he heard her, he didn't show it. "Have you ever looked up at the sky?"
"Yeah…" Dawn answered, wonder what he was about to tell her.
"What did you see?" Spike asked.
"Stars." Dawn responded, not sure what answer he was looking for.
Spike actually laughed.
"Spike, are you okay?" Dawn moved a little closer to him, but didn't come too close, keeping sure he had his personal space.
Spike laughed again. "I tried to drink a vile of holy water. Figure I'm not."
Dawn looked down at the ground, unsure she had an answer to that.
"Well, out with it then." Spike turned to her in a challenging manner now.
Dawn looked surprised by this sudden change to him. Calm one minute and now he looked as though she was about to go off the handle. Maybe she needed to go and get Buffy… "Out with what?" She decided to answer, ready to back away if need be.
Spike saw her motion towards the door. He didn't know if she was afraid of him or afraid for him. He figured that it was probably a bit of both. He decided that was smart. "Must have somethin' to say to me." He shook his head. Little Bit with a temper. Yes, she had to have something to say. "You must."
Dawn paused thoughtfully. "Sometimes when I think about my existence, what I am, or what I was before this, I picture energy in darkened space, surrounded by stars. It's weird. I don't really know if that makes any kind of sense, but it's what I picture."
Spike looked up at her sharply, definitely not expecting that, but accepting it as an answer. "What does that mean to you?"
Dawn shrugged. "I don't really know. I just kind of have accepted what I really am. I'm made from Buffy, but before that I was this mystical energy. I guess, what I've decided on is that it doesn't matter what I once was, but who I am now."
Spike paused thoughtfully for a moment and then turned and looked back up towards the starry sky. "That's good, Bit. Right way to look at things. Except for the fact that who you once were is still who you are. People can change, but sides of their personality can never go away. Their history as well."
Dawn sat down on the edge of the bed, starting to figure out where his head was at. He had more or less spelled it out for her. "I guess that's the good thing about life then."
"What's that then?" Spike inquired.
"You never run out of chances to try again." Dawn smiled at him simply.
Spike nodded at her quietly.
"Spike, why did you try to do it?" Dawn hadn't been sure she dared to ask this question, the way her voice shook as the words came out showed this.
Spike's tired eyes met with her own. "I just need to sleep."
"Oh. Well. You can get into bed if you're tired. I won't disturb you." Dawn made her way towards the bed to undo the covers.
Spike reached for her hand, stopping her, turning her towards him. "No. Not that."
Dawn looked at him a little lost.
Spike's met with hers, looking into them, almost seeing her soul. "I need to sleep. Peace."
Dawn caught onto what he was saying, her heart breaking as she saw the pain in his eyes. "Oh, Spike….what happened to you?"
Spike kept his eyes fixed on hers, the tone of his voice not shifting. "You know the answer to that."
She kept his gaze, and tears came streaming down her face. "You're not what you once were. You're Spike. You're my friend. You've done so much good that you don't see. That you won't let yourself see!" Dawn spoke frantically. "You really didn't deserve what he did to you."
"Maybe." Spike shrugged. "Then again. Maybe not."
Dawn looked at him sadly. "What do you mean?"
He turned back and looked towards the sky.
Spike didn't respond this time.
Buffy tapped Dawn out.
That was the way he saw it. A person came in and until they were tapped out, they had to sit there and try to analyze, and figure out, the darkened puzzle of his mind.
They couldn't figure out the answer, because there was no answer. He didn't hold the answer key, but by the way they spoke to him it seemed that they expected that he did. At the very least, that he was their lab partner in their research. He was both the partner and the experiment at the same time. The experiment. Funny that, he was getting used to the role, laid out on the slab to be poked at and prodded, sometimes ripped open. Even frogs were already dead by the time dissection began. Then again, there wouldn't be much to dissect if he was dead. He'd have been dust. He figured that was Wood's point. He didn't want him dead. He wanted him to suffer the way that he had suffered.
He understood. Yet, at the same time he wanted to be left alone in the same room as the bloke, to tear him apart. It was one thing he was learning from having a soul, feelings could still be contradicting things, morals didn't clear that up. It was part of the reason he was starting to figure that this weren't worth trying to figure out anymore. There was always a new way to look at it and there was always another reason to understand it the opposite way. No wonder councilors had to take years upon years of school before they could truly understand. How much did they really understand once they were through anyway?
Buffy stood in front of him, looking down at him, her features none too intimidating, but he could tell that she was building herself up for something.
"Just say it." Spike stated.
"What?" Buffy took a step back, not expecting him to really speak at all, not unless someone addressed him. It seemed that this was the way it was going for everyone else.
"You have that look. The one people get when they have somethin' serious to say. So, best to just rip the band aid off. Say it." Spike reasoned.
Buffy bit down on her bottom lip for a moment. It wasn't something that she could just ask. There was a reason why people build things up sometimes. This was one of those times. She wanted to ease him into this conversation, more importantly, make sure the timing was okay based on how he was feeling. She didn't want him to go over the edge again, but right now, it didn't look as though that was going to be easy. "Spike, I don't want to have too heavy of a conversation with you if you're not ready for one." Buffy answered honestly.
Spike shrugged. "Never ready. Best to just get it over with."
"It's about what happened to you." She warned him softly.
"Yeah. Now's not the time for that." He confirmed.
"Spike, it's really important that we talk about this." Buffy almost pleaded.
"Thought you wanted to make sure I was okay with somethin' this heavy. Instincts were right. I'm not." Spike sighed. "If I wanted to talk 'bout it. I would. I won't. Haven't with anyone."
Buffy kneeled down in front of him, taking his hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I'm not just anyone."
Spike didn't look at her right away, but after a moment he found his eyes locking with her own. "You're right. You're not."
She took her hands away from his, her eyes never leaving his face. "What does that mean?"
"What more do you need to know, Buffy? You saw me down there. Saw me in a way that I wished you hadn't." His voice trailed off for a moment. "Way I wish no one would have."
"I don't think less of you-."
"I know." He cut her off. "Doesn't matter. It gets to me is all."
"It doesn't have to. The fact that you went through that shows me how str-."
"Don't tell me how strong I am." Spike cut her off before looking down at the ground.
"Don't say that."
Buffy lifted his chin up, making him look at her. "No. I am going to tell you how strong you are. You went through what you went through and you are going to be okay from it. It hasn't been easy. It's been heartbreaking and messy, but you are going to get through this. I am going to help you get through this and you are then going to see just how strong you are."
Spike shared her gaze for a moment before a soft smirk fell over his face. "If you hadn't gotten to me in time I'd be dust right now."
"Yeah." Buffy agreed.
"That isn't strength." Spike stated evenly.
It wasn't strength and he found that he didn't care anymore. He couldn't be the strong warrior that she wanted anymore, and he was past bothering to keep trying.
Buffy sighed defeated. She couldn't make him see it yet. She couldn't make him understand right now and she didn't honestly expect to. She didn't know what to trust as signs of progress right now. He had been so good at hiding his feelings, though, right now he had even given up the will to pull a fast one over on all of them, even if it were solely for the sake of ending it again. He was truly beaten down.
Spike was beaten down.
The thought lit a fire under her and she whipped her head up towards him again. "Who did this to you?"
Spike looked at her with a bit of surprise. "What?"
"I said, who did this to you?" Buffy repeated, with just as much determination as before.
"That's what I came up here to ask you. I want a name."
"What makes you think I know who it is?" Spike responded simply.
"A month with this guy? I'm thinking you have a pretty good idea who he is by now. I want to know what you know." Buffy retorted.
Spike stood up slowly and walked closer to the window. "Now that I'm on suicide watch, it's funny, figured you might have bolted curtains over the windows or somethin'. Make sure I don't play peek-a-boo with Mr. Sunshine out there. When he decides to show, that is."
"Spike, please. Whoever did this to you needs to be stopped." Buffy pleaded.
Spike rolled his eyes. "Stopped? In what way? You goin' to slay him like a demon?" Spike looked at her annoyed for a moment. "Didn't think so. Bleedin' human. That's what he is. Can't put him in jail seein' as I'm already dead. So, what are you goin' to do? Give him a verbal warnin'? Let him know how displeased you are. Slap on the wrists it is. Let's face it, Buffy. It's all you'd be able to do."
Buffy walked over by him, putting her hands on her hips. This was so frustrating. Why couldn't he just give her one name? She wanted to let that frustration out; she was still so used to being able to do that when he was being difficult. This version of Spike wasn't sinking in with her easily. "I know it's not easy to talk about…"
"Then why are we still talkin' 'bout it?" Spike looked at her with a glare.
"I'm not asking for details. I wouldn't push for that." Buffy explained almost desperately.
"You shouldn't be pushin' for anythin'." Spike responded easily. "Bloke is gone. Workin' with The First anyway. Fancy he couldn't get one over on me now anyway. Not with his mate bein' defeated and all."
"So, what? It just doesn't matter now?" Buffy asked in disbelief.
"Maybe." Spike shrugged. "Then again. Maybe not."
Buffy couldn't get Spike to respond to anything else afterwards.
***************************************************
Buffy sat out in the garden, staring at all the flowers. She liked to sit out here after a tough day and given the way things were lately, it seemed those were every day. The flowers, all spread out around her, it reminded her that there was still beauty left in the world. It surprised her that they were so well taken care of, but she had to figure that this wasn't Angel's doing. But then, Angel could surprise you with what he might decide to care for, so perhaps when the sun went out he had once watered them all. It had been awhile since his passing and they weren't dying, it was all too possible that someone else had taken over this responsibility or hired someone else to care for them. Buffy didn't know why, but she liked the idea of Angel having cared for them at some point. Maybe, she liked it, because it was an excuse to think about him some more. With each passing day, she felt him less and less. That had never happened before, even when they were apart. He was always just over in LA. He was still around and he showed up just when he needed to. Now, he was gone and she figured his presence would still exist in this place, a part of him being kept alive as they worked the city that he had decided to do his part for society in. She hadn't lived here though. She hadn't really known him here. She hadn't seen him regularly for a long time and now that she knew he wasn't just a few hours away, or down the street, or around the corner, he was slipping away. She hated the thought of that. She kept trying to visualize him. See his face, hear his voice. Take in the scent of him. But still, in between these busy days, he slipped away. Faded. She couldn't let that happen. So, she gave him the flowers. It kept him close to her. It was beautiful. She needed beauty right now. She needed to remember the times when they were beautiful together.
"How did things go with Spike?" Xander's voice interrupted her thoughts.
Buffy looked up at him. Spike, he was difficult to deal with. Go figure. When one vampire was too difficult to handle she thought of the other one. Even so, thinking of Angel made her sad, so in no time her mind would have been back on Spike again.
She scrunched up her face at her own thoughts. It made her sound so fickle. It wasn't like that. She had loved Angel. She loved Spike. She felt like she had lost both of them right now in two very different ways. It was harsh on her heart.
"I want to help him so bad." Buffy spoke breathlessly, allowing more vulnerability to come through than she normally liked, but only so much secrecy in this department was possible.
Xander immediately took a seat down next to her. "You will. You are."
Buffy shook her head. "I'm not. He can't talk to me. He's so far gone." Buffy sighed. "I feel like a broken record. Which is part of the problem. Part of why I haven't been able to help him."
"So much about this kind of healing is being repetitive with the person who's sinking." Xander reminded her.
Buffy nodded. "I know. I think I finally really get that. I keep looking for something that I can do. Some way that I can help. I think I find it, but then…" Her voice trailed off.
Xander smirked.
"What?" Buffy looked at him feeling insulted for some reason.
"Come on, Buff. You know." Xander looked at her willing her to make the connection to just about every event that had taken place the minute they had gotten Spike back.
Buffy tilted her head back and sighed. "I know. I get it. I suck."
"You don't suck. You're just very with the hands on. It's getting him his painkillers or getting him back into action and now it's finding out who did this to him. It's all very important stuff, but once your mind gets set on something it stays on that something. You got to let him do this in his own time." Xander paused. "Within reason. The problem is none of us are professionals in this area. We don't have the schooling that goes along with helping a person like this. There isn't counseling for vampires that I know of."
"Even if there were, it's not like he'd want to go. Forced therapy on someone doesn't really work. I would really know that." Buffy sighed. "I've been holding back on asking who did this to him. It wasn't just something that I happened to remember today. But, it's getting to the point where whoever did this could be impossible to find. He could be anywhere."
Xander looked over his shoulder, back towards the hotel, before looking towards Buffy once more. "Well, we do work at an investigation company. We should be able to find anyone."
Buffy smiled. "That's true. Besides, I'm not about to let him get away. So, if Spike tells me tomorrow or a year from now, I will find this guy."
"I don't doubt that." Xander responded.
"So how have you been doing? I feel like all my conversations have been so self-absorbed."
"You've been dealing with a lot, Buffy. It's okay." Xander paused. "And I'm fine. I go and see Cordelia ever now and again."
"You do?" Buffy looked at him somewhat surprised.
"Yeah. I know it was high school since I last saw her. But…I don't know. It's hard to explain. Maybe it's because I lost Anya. I can't say the things that I wish I could say to her now. Cordelia is there and even though I know she's probably never going to wake up, I have a chance to say what I need to say to her. Even if I didn't know that I had things to say after all this time." Xander found himself looking off at the flowers himself now.
"What do you say to her?" Buffy's eyes widened as the question flew out of her mouth.
"That's way too personal. Ignore me. You don't have to answer that."
"No. It's fine. It's just about loss. I keep losing everyone that I care about. At first, it was just in the sense of death. Now, I realize it's not just the people that I care about dying, but I ruin the relationships that I'm in. I thought the fact that I attract a lot of demons was a problem, but, worse than that, I can't keep any around whether they're human or not." Xander sighed.
"You're not alone there, Xander. Look at my track record." Buffy paused. "Two of them were already dead when I dated them."
Xander smiled at that. "What is it with us? I get with what we do, yeah, we're likely to lose people. We've all lost someone close to us. But, this relationship stuff, I keep messing that up."
Buffy paused thoughtfully. "We're young. I don't think too many people get through life without a few heartbreaks along the way. It's even harder for us to sustain a relationship given the kind of pressure that's on us. I know that might sound like a cop out, blaming it on the job. If you look at the reasons why you broke up with Anya in the past, why things might have gone south with Cordelia, and then forget about me, it has supernatural disaster written all over my relationships. But, if you look closely, a lot of it has to do with this life."
Xander paused. "I think things with Anya can be connected to the supernatural. No question. The whole demon backstory. I never was fully comfortable with that. I wish I had been. And then that extra fear demon showing up at our very wedding, just to throw an extra wrench into it. I wish I could be the kind of person that could have seen past that, but it was part of it. But, Cordelia, I think that was kid stuff. So, I see what you're saying about age being a factor."
Buffy pouted. "Two very unfair factors."
Xander nodded. "It can get overwhelming sometimes. Maybe that's part of why I go and see Cordelia. It brings me back to the beginning of all of this. I need that. To see the whole road that I've been on."
"When you're doing that, try not to just see everything that's gone wrong, or hurt. You've come along way. Grown. Matured. Become a good man. You should try to focus on that a little too." Buffy stated with soft encouragement.
Xander looked towards Buffy in a quiet manner. "Spike will open up to you eventually. You're a great friend."
Buffy smiled. "Thanks. I hope you're right."
Spike was laying on the bed now, his arm draped over his eyes. Willow had been watching him quietly. He had a number of people in and out of the room. She was thinking that they needed to have a bit of a better schedule for this suicide watch thing. His head must be spinning at this point; maybe that was why his arm was over his eyes, to steady the room.
"So, what's your angle?" Spike asked from underneath his arm.
"My angle?" Willow asked before looking at him slightly panicked. "Was I supposed to come here with an angle? No one told me."
"No." Spike responded. "Just everyone else did. Think they can cure me."
Willow relaxed. "Maybe they think they can save you from going off the deep end with their mouth, because that's how Xander saved me." Willow pointed out with a playful smile. Okay, so he couldn't see the smile, but she was sure that he could hear it in her voice.
Spike looked up at her in annoyance. "Can't believe that worked."
Willow gave him a genuine smile. "Well, I've known him longer than anyone. I guess it makes sense that if anyone would be able to reach me, it would be him."
Spike laid his head back down. "Figure I don't have anyone like that."
"I don't know. As annoying as everyone has probably been today, you've to give it to them that they've been trying. Why do you think they've been trying?" Willow questioned.
"Nothin' better to do, I figure it." Spike responded simply. "Must be a slow day for evil."
Now, Willow rolled her eyes. "We both know that's not true. A lot of people have been trying to help you since you've gotten back. You're kind of one of us now. Strangely."
Spike smirked. Strangely. He liked that. It was true. It felt odd. Even if he had a soul. It felt odd. He didn't consider himself a member of the group. He wasn't all that interested in being a member really, but still he was, in a way, part of whatever this was.
Spike sat up and looked at Willow. "Buffy talks to you."
Willow gave a small shrug. "Yeah. She does. We're friends, remember. Why?"
"Don't know." He sighed. "She wasn't pressurin' me or anythin'. Just more questions. Needin' more answers from me. More of somethin'. Always wants more."
"She cares about you." Willow explained softly. "It can cause her to be crazy Buffy."
Spike snorted. "She was more in control of the lot of that, but I can't..."
"Can't what?" Willow inquired.
"Can't trust her with this yet. What happened to me. Who did it." Spike shook his head.
"Don't even trust myself to think 'bout it. What I'm thinkin'. It's all I do anyway. Part of me feels like my head is lyin' to me. Part of me feels like this bloke helped me see the real raw truth of what I am." Spike sighed. "Too much buggerin' emotion. And I don't want to trouble Buffy with the lot of it. She couldn't deal. Wouldn't know how to handle it."
Willow nodded and understood. "Everyone has their weaknesses. You can be a good person, but still completely fail in one area. It can be a place where you really need someone in, but they just can't bring themselves to be what you need, because of their own experiences. Issues. You find who can be what for you. Buffy is great in a lot of ways, but we all know she hasn't always been emotional girl. She'll have your back. She'll be there for you. You can even tell her about what happened; she might not know the right thing to say, but she'll have your back. The emotional advice, yeah, you might need a different person for that. It doesn't mean she can't be trusted."
"A lot has been ridin' on her shoulders." Spike stated.
"Asking for help isn't always easy for her. It isn't for anyone. Honestly, I don't how much better any of us really would have done in her shoes." She smiled. "But we all want to help you."
"Not like I'm very best friends with everyone." Spike snorted once more.
Willow shrugged. "You used to be pretty out of the loopy."
Spike narrowed his gaze on her.
"Fine. You still are. If that's what you want to hear." Willow smirked.
Spike, for what felt like the umpteenth time today, rolled his eyes.
"We might not be very best friends, but I get what you're going through. You can talk to me." Willow stated. "We've talked before. So, you know that. I hope."
Spike nodded quietly. "Sure. A few times, mostly after I tried to kill you."
Silence. It was his best friend. He liked when it took over the room; there wasn't any pressure for him to talk. He could think. He could collect his thoughts. Only, he found, he was running out of thoughts to have. It was the same nasty bits that were coming to mind. His brain was spewing off its' usual position on everything and especially the things he was always trying to avoid. The details of what had happened. Of what Wood had done, the constant incapacitating lockdown, the continuous slashing and burning, operating on him while he was awake. The only place he allowed those memories were in his nightmares and that was only because he didn't get a choice in the matter.
Willow saw him dissociate. Spike was gone, the blank expression overtaking his face. She wondered what he was seeing just then, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to know. He had been held against his will for a month, The First being part of that kidnapping. If anything knew how to bestow unspeakable evil on a person, it was The First. Then again, it had him once before this and he had seemed okay shortly after. Perhaps, this guy that had Spike, whoever he was, had actually been sadistic enough that The First had learned a thing or two. She really didn't like that thought.
Spike's eyes flickered back to life and he looked up at her. "When you were evil, how far did you go?"
Willow looked at him with shy unease. "I ripped Warren's skin off."
Spike looked at her expressionlessly. "That was a rude question."
"It's okay." Willow responded gently.
"I was operated on." Spike stated.
"I know that." Willow spoke in the same gentle manner.
"I was awake." Spike clarified.
Willow's eyes widened. She felt her mouth go dry, color draining from her face. Her mind racing with ways to make this better. He had to have passed out shortly after it started. Still, even a moment of that kind of pain, she was sure that it was beyond anything anyone of them had experienced.
Spike smirked, noting the look on her face. "That's right. Awake. The whole bleedin' time. Saw it when the bloke held up my lungs."
Willow looked down, trying to process what he was saying. So, they had never been the best of friends, they didn't need to be for this to make her completely sick. No one deserved to go through that. Even if he were evil, hypothetically, he didn't deserve to go through this. Buffy staked vampires, because they were killing, but it was humane the way she did it. It was quick and painless. She didn't tie them down and have her fun torturing them beforehand. Spike, he had a soul, he was rehabilitated. Sick. That was the only word for it. Whoever did this was sick.
"Too much information?" Spike asked with his eyebrow raised casually.
"No." Willow waved her hand. "No. It's not that. I'm just, taking it in." Her features turned sympathetic. "I'm so sorry, Spike."
Spike shrugged it off. "It's fine. Did a lot of nasties in my time. Figure I earned it."
"No." Willow shook her head. "No one deserves that kind of treatment."
"Maybe." Spike shrugged. "Then again. Maybe not."
Spike continued this time.
"Besides, brassed the bloke off. Had a personal score to settle with me." Spike responded.
Willow looked at him curiously; they were getting closer to an answer. "He did?"
"Spike nodded. "Yeah. Since I killed his mum and all."
Willow tilted his head to the side confused for a moment. Did they know someone whose mother he had-? Her train of thought was cut off with the answer to that question shoving it aside. "Wood…Wood did this to you?" Willow asked in a shock filled tone.
Spike nodded.
The enemy had been fighting by their side, that whole time.
***************************************************
There had been word of a Lindsay sighting. This would normally be good news; however, it also meant that Buffy needed everyone that was fit to go. She had taken a deep breath when saying what she had to say, but there was no way around it. "We need to bring Spike along."
Her words had been met with confusion and even slight argument, but it was the only way. She couldn't leave him under the same watch she had left him with the last time all of them had gone out. Xander and Fred couldn't handle it if he tried to do something to himself, Spike was too strong. This time, Gunn, who probably had the best chance of being able to fight Spike, even if it hadn't worked out too well the last time, wouldn't be there. She needed him on this. She needed as many people who were familiar with Lindsay as possible. They knew all his tricks, all the things to watch out for, and if he did have the support of Wolfram & Hart behind him then it was going to be all the more tricky to capture and question the guy. Spike had to come. End of story.
Spike didn't make too much of a fuss about it, but she could tell that deep down he wanted to. That was good. It meant that he wasn't trying to cut off all of his feelings. He still showed sparks of anger, anguish, and frustration. As much as it hurt her to see him this way, Xander was right, there was a change to him. He was more blunt, to the point, on his own terms, at least. He still gave over more than he ever would have in the past as far as feelings and information went. It was a look into just how much he was giving up, as if his suicide attempt hadn't been enough of a look. The defeat was starting to show in his actions, but he still had pieces of emotion left, even if he stifled them most of the time. It was still there. It meant that his mind was still here, for now. She worried how much longer that would last until it would go. She was on a time limit to save him and she still didn't know how she was going to begin to attempt that.
At least she wasn't fool enough to believe that this little outing would do the trick anymore. She couldn't believe that, in the past, she had thought these little old activities they used to do together would be enough. She knew from her own experience that routines and having something to do was important during terrible times, but that getting plenty of room to breathe and understanding of not being all up to your usual level was important too. Patience and care. Spike had always appreciated these outings though. Even the first time she'd seen him worked up in a state, when he came back to Sunnydale after Dru had dumped him, it was taking part of a real brawl and kicking some ass that helped him back to himself. Same thing a year later, when he'd tried to commit suicide and had come off the idea only after a good spot of demon-slaying. She dearly hoped the same kind of effect could kick in now, soon.
They were walking the streets of the neighborhood where their informant had said Lindsay would be. But as of yet there were no sighting of him. They stopped and dusted a few vampires when they spotted them, and even got a, probably deceitful, tip from one of them of where Lindsay might be right now. But there were no trace of him, and Buffy was starting to worry. The night wasn't young anymore. They couldn't stay out too much longer before sunrise. And looking around her, she could see they were all tired, and moving on merely in fierce determination to finish the mission. Just as she was about to call it quits for the night, they spotted him - walking down the next alley, headed straight for the post office. The whole gang suddenly went tense and silent, and hid around the corner, while Gunn took on the task of sneaking up and quickly pinning Lindsay to the wall behind him with his fists. "I thought we told you the last time we met that you come back here at your own peril?" he growled. Lindsay smirked at him. "Well, actually, Angel told me that. But he's not here anymore, now is he?" He gave Gunn a proud, knowing look, and used the moment when the message sank in to push free of his grip, duck and dive away. "You..." Gunn stated in shocked anger. "I should have known it was you!" He got up and charged after him, with the others in hot pursuit. They turned around another few corners, and up a back alley, where Lindsay kicked over a lump of garbage cans they had to dodge and find a way through. He used that moment to jump a fence at the end which were making it a dead end street, and climbed over. Gunn was able to reach up just high enough to grab hold of his jacket, but he just slipped out of it, and jumped down on the other side and down the next road. "Dammit!" Gunn swore, and started climbing up after him, but got tripped up in the jacket he was holding, and fell on his back back down on the ground.
Buffy helped him up, and turned him around, away from there. "He's gone" she said, calmly. "It's almost morning, we're all tired and Spike needs to get inside before sunrise. Let's go home. I'm sure we'll get a whiff of him some other time as well." She took the jacket off him, and studied it. "And, we've got this." She smiled pensively.
***************************************************
As they all walked into the hotel and through the lobby, Spike lingered behind. He was tired. He needed a break. Some alone-time, which they seemed to be all too hesitant to give him lately. He just stood there, and tried to gather his mind. Uselessly, it seemed, as it was still overflowing with too many thoughts to ever keep track of. At least they had not made a complete failure of the mission. They had found Lindsay, chased him down... and taken his jacket, while letting him get away. They had let Lindsay get away because of him. Because he needed to get back inside before sunrise and they were running out of time.
He looked out the window. The sun wasn't up yet, but he could smell it. Feel the warmth approaching. It was very close. That warmth. His cold body and still heart could use it. Craved it. He had heard an uncounted number of times lately that there's always light at the end of the tunnel. He had walked so long already. Why couldn't that end come now? He wanted to just walk into the light, and feel his fears and worries and flesh and bone just go up in smoke and cinders and be swept away by the wind. Flying, free, oblivious. He opened the door, and went outside.
Or, he would have, if strong hands hadn't grabbed the neck of his jacket and jerked him back inside. Buffy had noticed that Spike hadn't followed them when they had gotten upstairs, and gone down to retrieve him. Now she was glad she had. Glad and, well mostly, brim-full with fear. She couldn't believe he had actually tried to do it again! Or, she could, this was what everyone had told her might happen, but it still scared the living crap out of her.
She dragged him sprawling into the house, until he was able to ram a well aimed elbow into her still rather freshly scarred stomach, making her bend over and groan, giving him a second to dodge and make another run for the door, until she was on him again, all fists and flying feet, blocking his exit, with desperation written over her whole face and features. It made him almost soft, to see that there, how stricken she was, how her pain almost seemed to rival his. But most of all, seeing that made him all the more insecure, and frightened and guilty as well. What, was she about to yell at him again now? Tell him how he should take his pain and shove it up some unnamed place so as to not hurt her anymore? Yeah, because she was always number one huh? The only one that mattered. Their kicks and punches grew faster and harder, as the frightful desperation gave way to mutual anger. How dared he try to abandon her again? How dared she attack him, like he was a problem rather than having one?
Hit, kick, dodge, parry. Heightened and heightened intensity. Snarls, glares, full focus. She took in every detail of his face and posture. Every strained, tensed move, every angry look, and each sore gaze in between. And she knew he did the same with her. She could feel it. He had always been an open book like that. It felt like they were saying more to each other now, wordlessly, than they had been able to express in all the words they had kept flinging at each other for the last couple of weeks. Their faces grew sorer, the pace of the fight slowed down. He could sense her concern and worry in every almost tender punch that landed. He took it in. Every kick felt nearly like a caress. It was like they were moving into slow-dance mode. And he suddenly felt warm inside. Felt it spread, from his moving fists and feet, towards the center of his chest, where his unbeating heart seemed to swell, and up towards his head, where it spread out in a broad, genuine smile.
The changed rhythm of the dance was affecting Buffy too. She found herself smiling, and noticed with surprise that he did the same. He was! And not just the plastered "going through the motions" smile, that she still blamed herself for not seeing through earlier. The kind that brightened up his face and made his eyes shine. She laughed happily, and quickened their speed again, pushed up another notch what was now easily morphing into a sparring match.
He was happy to oblige her. Yes, actually, happy! He took a moment just to marvel at that. His body was starting to feel stiff and sore by now, and would probably sport an interesting palette of colors in the morning, but his spirit felt lighter than it had in a long time. This was fun! Fun in the way it was meant to be. She laughed, and he chuckled with her, while they blocked each other's kicks, and filtered their legs together, tumbling to the floor in one heap, locked in each other's warm gazes.
He laid there, and felt her warm body entwined with his, her bright, shining gaze focused on his face, and realized what a fool he had been just before. This was the light and warmth that he craved. The brightness of her presence. The fire of their interactions. Yes, it might tear him to shreds some times that too, but in an infinitely better way than the rising sun outside.
An outside voice broke in, and disturbed their bliss. "Hurry, come up here quick. Angel is back!"