Chapter Five: Revelations
The following weeks progressed into a similar routine. Spike would be nowhere to be found all night long, giving Buffy as much time as she wanted to sleep. She would wake up, shower, dress, watch some television, and, when she needed to, wash her limited clothing in the washroom sink. Spike had brought her tons of non perishable food, so she didn’t have to wait for him to feed her. The vampire would arrive in mid afternoon, have his way with her and leave. Their small friendly truce seemed to have disappeared since Spike barely even said two words to her; it being replaced by a cold distant arrangement based solely on fulfilling his most immediate needs. In essence, the niceties and humorings were over with and she was now what Spike had kept her around for, his slave. Buffy didn’t think much of his change in attitude; she figured it was what he had wanted all along.
She would keep busy by tidying the room, needing some sort of distraction, and in her rummaging she found books, more precisely a shelf full of books. Some of them were novels of various genres; mystery, fantasy, and even a few classics, but the majority of them were poetry anthologies. Going through each book and dusting it with an old rag she had found, Buffy took stock of every one before placing it back on the shelf. However, as she went through the bottom row of books, something strange caught her eye. There was a slight unevenness in the backboard of the shelf. Buffy reached back and pulled at the board, revealing a small nook containing a few sparse items. She pulled out a few photographs, letters, sketches and a leather bound book, which she surmised was a journal. Buffy wasn’t sure what she had found but she had a feeling Spike would be pissed if he found out that she had discovered the secret compartment.
The pictures were old, crinkled and yellow. Peering down at the face in one of the photographs, she saw a man in what looked like Victorian styled clothing, with an ere of class about him. He wore spectacles on his face, which displayed no emotion whatsoever. It was only when she focused that she could see the familiarity between this man and the vampire who was holding her hostage. ‘Oh my God, it is Spike.’ Buffy couldn’t fathom how this seemingly proper gentleman had turned into the arrogant platinum bloodsucker she knew. She flipped through to the next photo and saw the same dignified man standing beside a seated older woman, who Buffy assumed was his mother. Even in the old and fading photograph, the lady appeared sickly. Shuffling to the next one, she found a very different image staring back at her; a dark haired woman in a white dress sitting quite proper with her gloved hands in her lap. Buffy wasn’t sure who she was but she had to be important if Spike kept a picture of her. Putting the photos down, she turned her attention to the sketches.
The drawings were well done and very detailed. She recognized one of them being the dark woman from the photos but there was another that she couldn’t put a name to. It was a sketch of a man’s face. A dark man who sported a sly grin and whose eyes conveyed pure malice and power, which made Buffy shiver uncontrollably. She wondered who this man was and why Spike had kept a picture of him. There were few more sketches of Spike with the man and the dark woman, and one with four people, a blond woman mixed into the group. Buffy skimmed over these since they didn’t really reveal anything about Spike, other than who he chose to hang out with back in the day. Buffy’s mind was playing with the idea that one of those women could be Druscilla, but that train of thought stopped when she came upon the last sketch. Of her. Actually of her sleeping. She knew Spike had watched her a lot during those first few days, but she never had the slightest idea that he was drawing her. She scrutinized the picture, analyzing every curve and shade, unsure how Spike could capture her misleadingly tranquil face so well on paper. The concept of him drawing her was both romantic and eerie. She wasn’t sure if one nullified the other.
Placing the sketches in a neat pile with the photos, Buffy moved onto the next items, the letters. She knew she shouldn’t be reading them since they were slightly more personal than the photographs and drawings, but she figured she had already crossed the line, so there really wasn’t anyway of going back. As she read over the well penned letters, she recognized them as words shared between a mother and son. Him telling her of his studies and her telling him of the pride she felt for him. They were written with conservative tones, but the feelings behind them were clear; they had loved each other immensely. The letters were soon added to the pile of secret items Buffy should have never come across.
The last piece of nostalgia of Spike’s past weighed heavily in her hands. She carefully opened the journal, surprised at the remarkable condition it was in for its probable age. There didn’t seem to be a chronological order of entries, but instead simple random thoughts put to paper. Some of the scribbles even looked like poetry. Buffy’s eyes encountered a few blurbs, some corny ones about birds and stars but she stopped scanning when she came across a poem that called out to her.
My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,
Midnight descends in raven-colored clothes,
But soft... behold!
A sunlight beam
Butting a swath of glimmering gleam.
My heart expands,
'tis grown a bulge in it,
Inspired by your beauty...
Effulgent.
The poem itself wasn’t the best she’d ever read but the way every word dripped with sincerity and innocence. At first she refused to believe that Spike had written the poem. It was so blind and naïve in its ideal description of being in love. It was almost endearing in the way it was written, oblivious to how ugly love could actually be. Spike wasn’t kind and he sure as hell wasn’t naïve, so the concept that he might have written this poem made Buffy wonder how someone could stray so far from who they once were. From what she was seeing, William was quite the polar opposite of Spike.
Buffy jumped when she heard footsteps outside the door and frantically shoved everything back into the nook, making sure she closed the partition before she placed the books in front of it. Glancing up, she sighed seeing Spike coming through the door. ‘Good, he didn’t see me.’
Finding Buffy on the floor in front of the shelf, the vampire cocked an eyebrow, “Looking for something to read, pet?” His question being the most he’d spoken to her in two weeks.
Standing up, Buffy dusted herself off and picked up a book. “I was cleaning and I noticed the shelf. I was looking at some of them and this one seemed interesting,” she answered, clutching at the novel, afraid his sudden bout of speaking had to do with his possible suspicion that she had found something other than printed literature on the shelf.
He shrugged and slipped off his duster, carelessly draping it on his chair. Buffy followed after him, knowing what he had come for. She sat on the bed and started to unbutton her top, but at about halfway down, Spike grabbed her wrist. “Not here for that, luv. You can keep your clothes on.”
Buffy gave him a perplexed look as she did her shirt back up. Had he grown tired of her already? The past few weeks, the only time she had seen him was for his daily shag and now, here he was, not fucking her. Did she do something? Did he not want her anymore? Buffy wasn’t sure if not being used was any better than being used because she suddenly felt so dirty. Then, a second thought almost knocked her over. What if he was here to kill her? Or even worse, give her to someone else?
“Master…” Buffy started, but for the second time that night was quickly interrupted.
“Don’t worry your pretty blonde head off. Haven’t grown bored of you.”
“So why don’t you wanna…?” Buffy asked, trailing off with slight embarrassment.
“It’s complicated. Had a rough night is all,” he stated as he sat down next to her on the bed, rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.
“What happened?” she asked, wringing her hands.
“Like I said, don’t worry ‘bout it. Just wanna get pissed and pass out.”
“Oh, okay,” she replied as she watched Spike snatch a bottle of tequila and settle down in front of the television.
She stayed still, keeping her gaze to the back of his platinum head and watched him as he took long gulps from the bottle. She wasn’t sure if she should just crawl under the blankets and go to sleep, or join the obviously ill tempered vampire on the sofa. She had a sinking feeling that she should go be with him, at least try and cheer him up. It’s what she would do for most normal people, but Spike wasn’t normal. Hell he wasn’t even technically people.
Buffy had to admit that her opinion of Spike had slightly changed since she had found his mementos. He had warmed up to her briefly, but then, after that night she had refused to kiss him, he had become so off putting. And now here he was, not wanting sex from her, right after she had read all those things she assumed he had written when he was human. In Buffy’s eyes, the monster that was Spike was starting to grow layers. The only problem was she didn’t know if that was a necessarily a good thing.
She grabbed her blanket, draping it around her like she always did whenever she watched T.V., and made her way to Spike’s side. He was mindlessly flipping through channels as he occasionally drank from the bottle, ignoring her presence completely.
“What you watching?” Buffy asked shyly.
“Nothin’ really,” he answered without taking his focus away from the screen.
“Okay.”
Holding out the tequila in her direction, Spike asked, “Wanna drink?”
Buffy shook her head. “A world of no. Me and alcohol aren’t very mixy.”
“More for me, then,” Spike said as he took another gulp of the amber liquid.
Buffy kept her gaze on him, wondering what had occurred to make him so quiet and even more distant.
“Look, pet, you don’t have to keep me company. Go on and do whatever it is you do. Read that little book you picked out even. I can get drunk on my own.”
“I’d rather stay here, if that’s okay?”
“Do what’d you like.”
“I will.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
Buffy was getting slightly irritated by his bad mood. Deciding to risk it, she asked, “What’s your problem?”
Nearly choking on his drink, Spike coughed as he stared at her utterly bewildered. “What’d you just say?”
“What is your problem?”
“Who’s to say I gotta problem?” he asked, scowling in anger.
Holding out her hand to count her fingers, Buffy replied, “Well, let’s see. One minute you’re making with the friendlies, telling me all this personal stuff and actually being somewhat tolerable; then you turn into Mr.Frigid and totally shut me out, that is, unless you wanna count the times you had sex with me. That lasted for two weeks and now you’re here, actually saying a few words to me, but for some reason you don’t want to sleep with me. And right now, at this very moment, you’re being a complete asshole. So now tell me you don’t have a problem.”
Spike was furious. “I should smack you for speakin' to me like that, Slave.”
Buffy didn’t flinch at his murderous gaze or harsh words. She only locked hazel with blue as she moved closer to him, placing her hand on his forearm. “Can you just please tell me. I’m so confused. I just don’t know what to think anymore,” she said, lowering her eyes.
“I’m so lonely. God, I would welcome a beating if it meant you’d just speak to me. I can’t take being cooped up here, in the dark, all alone without you even talking to me. Spike, please talk to me.” She hadn’t meant to say those exact words, to voice feelings she didn’t even know she had buried deep down inside, until her mouth had started to move.
Upon hearing her desperate plea, Spike released a long breath. “Buffy…I…I can’t really tell you what’s wrong, when I don’t even know m'self.”
“Then at least try,” she pushed.
“I don’t know how to describe it. Things haven’t been the same since you showed up. Been havin’ these strange feelings that no right minded vampire should ever have. When I was hurtin’ you, I felt bad, which is complete rubbish, cos I shouldn’t have. And then, when...I tried to...when I...God I can’t do this!” Spike pulled away from her touch, getting up to find another bottle, since his was now apparently empty. Yanking out the cork, he drank down the vintage port that he had found in his liquor crate.
“Spike…” Buffy called out, hopping he would return to the spot next to her.
“I’m not discussin’ it anymore, pet. So sod off,” he responded, moving a little in the direction of where she was sitting.
“I’m not dropping it. Tell me when what happened Spike.”
“Piss off.”
“Tell me!”
Grabbing the empty bottle from the couch, Spike flung it against the far wall, shattering it to pieces. “Leave me the bloody well alone!”
“Why won’t you just tell me? I can help you!” she screamed back.
“How can you possibly help me when you’re the problem?” he yelled.
“So I’m the problem?” Buffy asked, upset by the sheer audacity of his remark. “I’m the reason why you’re being so fucking hot and cold? Hasn’t been the same since your lackeys brought me here, has it? Well guess what, MASTER? I didn’t fucking ask to be captured and I sure as hell never asked to be your little sex slave! If your gonna have issues, at least realize it’s your own fucking fault. You should just kill me if I’m such a frickin’ inconvenience!”
“Can’t do that, pet.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Cos I think I’m in love with you,” Spike said in a barely audible whisper.
Buffy froze, noticing that she was suddenly standing in front of him, blanket tightly wrapped around her, unable to make her vocal chords work. “You love me?” she croaked out, totally shocked. “How?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to suss out, luv.”
“But you barely know me,” she commented, her eyes still wide in surprise.
“Love’s got nothin’ to do with how long you’ve known a person, pet. ‘S about truly knowing someone. Knowin' their passions, their desires, their strengths, their weaknesses. From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you. But I never knew how much of you I actually wanted. Wasn’t until that night, when I held you, after the first time I touched my mark on your neck that I knew I wanted more than just your body,” he explained, his voice low and vulnerable.
“Spike…I…I…”
“Not so eager for conversation now, are we luv?”
“It’s not that. I just don’t think you know what you’re saying. How could you possibly love me, when you treat me the way you do? How could you use and humiliate someone you claim to love? No. It's not love. Lust or an infatuation maybe, but it’s not love. You might think it’s love, but it’s not. It can’t be,” Buffy stated.
“You think I haven’t tried. Do you know how bloody fucked up it is for me to love you? These feelings I’ve been havin'; the guilt, the longing, the unnecessary worry and the all consumin' joy that burn inside of me whenever I’m bloody well around you. I can’t stop thinkin' 'bout you. All day long I dwell on every single word, every single gesture, every single touch exchanged between us. I’m drownin' in you Buffy.”
“Spike…”
“That’s why I haven’t said bugger all to you since you wouldn’t let me kiss you. It hurt and I didn’t know why. Those two weeks I also spent alone, just as alone as you, refusin' to talk to anyone. The only person I saw was you because I needed to touch you, Buffy, needed to get lost in you. Because when I’m with you, I feel whole.”
“So then what made today a non-physical one?” Buffy asked, still trying to grasp the fact that Spike had just declared his undying love for her.
“Today, my Clan confronted me. Well actually, just the Trio. They told me that the Clan was growin’ restless and that my behavior was creatin’ problems. Said I had to get out of whatever rut I was in and start actin’ like the leader ‘m ‘spose to be," Spike explained, obviosuly unmoved by their threats.
"They knew what was wrong with me, hell Tash had known before I even did. Told me that the Clan wouldn’t support me if I openly loved you. They wouldn't accept you as anything other than my slave; it’d make you my equal and no one would allow that. Doesn’t help that I’m a Master vampire either,” Spike paused to take a big gulp from the half empty bottle of wine before he continued. “So under no uncertain terms, they threatened basic mutiny if I ever elevated your position above that of Slavegirl.”
“You lost your clan?” Buffy asked, the rock that seemed to have materialized in her stomach was now pushing against her heart.
“Didn’t lose it. Came close to it though. I still hold the title and respect of Master vampire of this god forsaken hellmouth.”
“You almost lost everything because they wouldn’t accept you loving me?”
“That about sums it up, luv.”
“I think I might have to take you up on that drink,” Buffy said, honestly not trying to be funny.
Spike smirked, closing the distance between them as he handed her the bottle. Buffy snatched it and took a swig, making faces as she swallowed the wine. Passing it back to him, she stepped back, finding a comfortable distance from him.
“Spike, I don’t understand. For the majority of the time, you treat me so badly. And now you’re telling me you nearly gave it all up, for me? It’s so out of sync with everything else you’ve done. I don’t know how to feel,” Buffy revealed, slinking down back onto the couch, blanket still tight around her shoulders.
Spike came to sit down beside her, “Not an easy thing to figure out, pet.”
“You go all revealy with your love, nearly loosing everything you’ve worked for in the process, and without even so much as knowing if I would feel the same way? That was either really arrogant, really stupid or really romantic,” Buffy said, pausing as she reflected on everything she had been told. “I don’t know what you expect from me. I don’t know you, don’t trust you enough to love you, Spike. I need time and I need you to stop with the dominance and the slavery crap. I need my freedom back. God, if you really loved me you’d let me go.”
Spike’s only response was a shake of his head. He hadn’t expected her to open up and he appreciated her honesty, but he couldn’t let her go. If he did, he knew he’d never see her again. “Better go off to bed, luv. Need to sleep on a lot tonight.”
“Where you gonna be?” she asked, upset at the fact that she knew he would never willingly let her go.
“Empty house, got a lot of room’s to choose from.”
“Stay here.”
“Figured you’d want me as far away from you as possible.”
“I’ve been alone enough these past weeks. Emotionally distraught vampire is better than being all by myself,” Buffy replied as she made her way back to the couch, with Spike sitting next to her seconds later.
They watched the television in silence, neither one of them actually paying attention to what exactly they were watching. Buffy eventually drifted off to sleep, half-sitting half-reclining against one end of the couch, as physically far from Spike as possible. Spike hesitantly pulled her blanket up to her chin. When she didn’t flinch, Spike smiled and settled into the other end, eyes focused on the T.V., occasionally flicking back to a misleadingly peaceful Buffy.
Unfortunately, it was the same night her nightmares started.
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