Seeing Red

In the "Previously":

Spike, up on a tombstone, drops some guy to the ground. "Why won't you sleep with me again?" he calls after a retreating Buffy.

"Because I don't love you," she says.

"Like hell," Spike says, looking down, clearly miserable.

In the Magic Box: Spike (wearing his duster, it looks like) sweeps stuff off the round table, then sits Anya on it and lays her down. She's wearing a black bra and red pants. Then cut to them kissing. It's nowhere near as hot as with Buffy. They neither one really have their hearts in it, I don't think. Then, Willow backing away from her computer screen, saying, "Oh, my God." Then Xander, seeing the screen, saying, "Oh, God. What is she...?" Shot of the screen, showing Spike and Anya on the table, kissing. He's still got on the coat. Buffy says, "That's enough," and turns away.

Outside the Magic Box. Anya is furious with Xander. "You left ME, Xander," she says. "At the altar. I don't owe you ANYTHING."

Xander is hurt, and his voice breaks. "So you go out and bang the first body you can find???"

Spike, shirt open about four buttons, and -still wearing the duster-, leans back against the wall. " 'S good enough for Buffy," he says. He knows that's going to hurt, and he means it to.

"Shut up," Xander says, "and leave her out of..." He trails off, realizing, and looks at Buffy, incredulous. Buffy looks...mad? guilty? both? Spike looks right at Buffy, almost daring her to say something. He warned her...

The Actual Episode:

Spike's crypt:

Spike's pouring booze into his blood. Looks like he's been drinking for quite a while.

"Was it worth it?" It's Dawn, at the door of his crypt, bag slung over her shoulder. She looks very solemn.

He looks over his shoulder, sees her. "Doesn't hurt," he says. He notices her bag. "Not planning a campout, are we?"

"No," she says. "I'm sleeping over night at Janice's. I thought Willow and Tara might want tome time to, uh..."

He looks a little surprised, maybe a little pleased. "So the birds are flying again, eh?" he says. He looks into his glass, and the pain is rising up in him. "Aint' love grand," he murmurs, a little bitter and a lot sad. He takes the glass and slumps into the armchair. He still isn't looking at her except for a brief flick of a glance now and then.

Dawn is still being pretty quiet. "I wanted to stop by on my way and... you know." She looks at him; she can tell how much he's hurting. "Everybody's pretty mad at you," she says softly. Everybody but her, from the sound of her voice.

"Yeeah, kinda picked up on that," he says, taking a pull of the whiskey and blood.

"You're not...gonna be coming around any more. Are you?" It's obvious that she doesn't like this option, but understands why it might work out that way.

He starts to answer, hesitates. "It's complicated, Nibblet."

"Everybody's been saying that."

"Must be true, then."

Dawn steps into the crypt, down the step. "Was it worth it, what you did with Anya?"

He turns and looks at her, finally. He's surprised, and not in a good way. "Buffy told you?"

"Kinda caught the show," Dawn says. His eyes widen, and she goes on. "There was a camera somewhere in the Magic Box. Warren and Jonathan and that other guy have been watching everything."

He closes his eyes, lets his head drop back onto the chair. His jaw works. "Wankers," he whispers, almost to himself.

Dawn steps into the room. "Do you love her?"

He glances at her. "Oh, no. No. It was just a ...," He pauses, looking for a way to say it. "S' a bad day for both of us, and we just had a few drinks and things just..."

She stops him. "No. Not Anya. Buffy. Do you really love her?" He doesn't answer, but the pain on his face is answer enough. "Then how could you do that to her?" She's not mad, not yelling, she just really doesn't understand.

His lips twist bitterly for a second. "Oh, right," he says, his voice breaking, "because Big Sis was treating me so well up until that point. Still must be a bit of the evil left in me after all." Very bitter, now.

"I don't know what happened between you two," Dawn says. staying calm, but maybe she is a little angry. "But what you did last night... If you wanted to hurt Buffy, congratulations. It worked." she turns around and leaves. He stares at his drink, his face a mask of bitter regret.

Buffy's bathroom:

She's starting to run the water for a bath. She's stiff, moving slowly, keeping a hand to her back.

"Are you hurt?" It's Spike. He steps into the bathroom. "You're not moving so well." He sounds concerned, not mocking. He's worried about her.

"Get out." She doesn't even turn around.

"We have to talk." Quiet. Calm. Resolved.

Now she turns around, shaking her head. "I really don't."

He closes the bathroom door. "Well, this isn't just about you, as much as you'd like it to be," he says, patiently, as though to a little kid.

"You spoke; I listened. Now leave." She SO doesn't want to hear this now.

He looks at her, his heart in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says, and he's completely sincere. "Not that it matters any more, but I needed you to know that."

"Why?" She's very cautious, not quite believing him.

"Because I care about you."

And now the anger starts to come through, though it's tightly controlled. "Then you might want to try the not-sleeping-with-my-friends."

Does she think he's really that stupid? "I didn't go to Anya for that," he says. "I was looking for a spell."

That bows her back right up. Eyebrows up into the hairline, nostrils flaring, the whole bit. "You were going to use a spell on me???"

Good God, it really is all about her. "It wasn't for you...," he says. "=I= wanted something." He looks at her for a second, but she doesn't seem to get it. "Anything to make these feelings stop.." The pain wells up, and his voice breaks. "I just wanted it to stop." He slumps back against the wall. Buffy's surprised by this, maybe hurt. "You should have let him kill me," he murmurs, broken. It would have been better than this...

She looks down, crosses to the tub. "I couldn't do that," she says, her voice low.

"Why?" There's a flicker of hope in his face; he looks at her, almost afraid to ask, but he has to know.

"You know why." She won't look at him.

"Because you love me." The hope is growing. But of course she stomps on it.

"No," she says, turning off the water. "I don't."

"Why do you keep lying to yourself?" Is she really stupid enough to believe that?

"How many times d...?" She breaks off. She's determined to stay calm. "I have feelings for you. I do," she says. "But it's not love." And then the killing blow. "I could never trust you enough for it to be love." She means it to hurt him, and it does, of course, but he laughs.

"Trust is for old marrieds, Buffy," he says. She really doesn't get it. "Great love is wild and passionate and dangerous. It burns and consumes."

"Until there's nothing left," she says patiently. HE doesn't get it either. "Love like that doesn't last."

He steps closer. "You feel like I do. You don't have to hide it any more."

She sighs. "Spike, please stop this."

He comes up to her, puts his hands on her hips. "Let yourself feel it."

"No." He's hit one of the bruises from the tombstone.

"You love me." He believes it; why can't she admit it? He tries to hold her, but she's pushing at him, fighting him.

"Oh, No. Stop it." He doesn't realize it, but he's hurting her.

"You love me." He's desperate to make her realize the truth of this, and he keeps trying to hold her.

"Spike, stop it." He grabs the front of her robe. "What are you doing?" She twists away, loses her balance, clutches at the shower curtain, falls, cracking her ribs on the side of the tub. She slumps to the floor, wincing.

He's down there with her, trying to kiss her, trying to hold her. "Let it go," he says, pleading. "Let yourself love me." She's still struggling against him. "Buffy...," he says, so desperate now, "Buffy..." He kisses her hands, her face, and he's crying now, almost like he was when he saw her broken body at the bottom of the tower.

She keeps trying to push him off. "Spike, no, I'm hurt..." But he doesn't hear her, he's so desperate to reach her.

"Stop..." She shoves him away, and he pushes her down on the floor, pinning her legs with his and holding her hands over her head. For a fraction of a second the pain turns into anger. Why is she fighting this so hard? Twice she almost gets away, but he catches her and pins her again.

"I know you felt it," he says, naked pain on his face. "When I was inside you. You'll feel it again, Buffy." It's almost a plea instead of an assurance. She's struggling still, crying out in pain as he struggles with her.

"Please, please, Spike, please don't do this, please don't do this," she begs, in tears.

"I'm gonna make you feel it." His voice is rough. He pulls at the collar of her robe, dragging it off her shoulder.

"STOP!" She flings him across the room. He crashes into the sink, collapses to the floor. She scrambles backward, holding her robe closed. He pulls himself up on the sink, his eyes wide, horrified. He looks at her, really seeing what he's done, and it's killing him. "Ask me again why I could never love you," she says, and now she's hurt in her spirit as well as body; she never expected this.

His eyes get bigger. He's trembling. "Buffy," he whispers, appalled at what he's done, at what he sees in her face, at himself. "My God, I didn't..."

But she cuts him off. "Because I stopped you," she says, completely ignoring what he clearly was going to say, that he didn't mean to hurt her. "Something I should have done a long time ago." He looks at her, still not believing what's happened.

Xander finds her in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, crying a little. There's a bruise on her thigh, but that's all; nothing like one of their marathon sessions. He asks what happened, if Spike hurt her. Buffy says he tried, but he didn't.

"That son-of-a-bitch." Xander starts out the door.

"Don't," Buffy says. "Just don't." And Xander stops.

AAAAAGH. I have GOT to write the two papers that are due tomorrow.

I'll finish this when I can, but it'll be a couple of days. Sorry.

--

Dori

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