Beneath You

FULL Spikefeed

In the high school basement. It's dark, and dank, and there are rats. "No, no, no, no, no, no." It's Spike. He peers around a stack of crates, looking at the rat. "Now is not the time. You know it, I know it." HE comes out from behind the crates, stealthily, sneaking up on a rat sitting on a box. "But making them understand it, that is a tooooootally different matter." He comes closer to the rat, crouching down, stalking it. "No manners is the problem. No breeding. Lack of etiquette. All of it lacking, all of it lost." He's getting ready to pounce on the rat when the earth begins to shake. He stands up, stumbles back into the stack of crates. "Not the time, not hardly ready," he says, and the shaking grows worse. He puts his hands to his head. Something is hurting him. "Stop!" he says, but the pain only increases. He falls to his knees. "Please stop," he says, "begging now, begging stop..." But the pain increases. "Oh God..." He's on his knees now, doubled over, and the pain keeps on coming, and he throws his head back and screams, eyes wide.

Buffy looks for him in the school basement, but he's not there.

Xander has brought Nancy to Buffy's house. They're trying to figure out what's going on. Buffy promises that if her dog is alive, they'll find it. "I need..."

"What you need is help." It's Spike, lounging in the doorway. Cool, confident, and definitely not crazy. "Fortunately, you've got me." She stares at him, slack-jawed.

"Buffy," he says, calmly.

"Spike." She's wary.

"Who's that?" Nancy, not for the last time this ep, is confused.

Dawn answers her. "He's...it's Buffy's..." She's not happy to see Spike.

Xander, of course, is even more unhappy. "Ex," he says, disgusted.

"I'm thinking it's more complicated than that," Nancy says, almost under her breath.

Xander sighs. "It always is."

"You've changed," Buffy says to Spike. Just on the edge of snark. "New clothing, better hair. Not so much with the crazy. I like it. Now what do you want?"

The old Spike would have snarked at her. But this isn't the old Spike. "Easy. If you think I like putting myself in here, surrounded by people who don't particularly like me, you'd be wrong." He looks at the gang, who are all staring daggers at him.

Xander pushes off the sofa. "If you're uncomfortable," he drawls, "we can -make- you leave."

This is not the old Spike. Xander doesn't even get an eye-roll. "I'll be quick," Spike says to him, almost apologetically. Then, to Buffy: "We need to talk. You want to do that here, or privately?"

Xander doesn't let her answer. "I'm thinking here, in the company of good friends and pointy weapons," he says, just daring Spike to make something of it. He gets a Buffyglare.

"You said something about quick?" she asks Spike.

He steps into the room. "Before I start, and for the record," he says seriously, "Last you saw me, I was a mess, I admit it. Last week, living in the school basement...well, you saw me."

This is news to Dawn and Xander. Dawn stands up, looks accusingly at Buffy. "You did?"

Buffy so doesn't want to get into this right now. "Guys, just a second, okay, yes, I saw Spike, I just..."

"What, you just forgot to mention it?" Dawn is holding it in, but she's furious.

"Things were insane in the basement. I saved your life. We can discuss it later."

Oh, right. When pigs fly... "Sure."

"Whatever you want," Xander says.

"Right," Dawn comes back. "Cause that seems to be the only time you let us in, Buffy. Whenever you want." There's going to be door-slamming and the silent treatment for weeks, here...

Spike tries to help. "Now, in fairness to Buffy...," he begins, but Xander cuts him off."

"Shut up, Spike!" He SO wants a piece of Spike, but he's not going to take the first swing.

"Okay. Guys..." Buffy throws a stern glance and Xander and Dawn, then motions Spike out into the hall. There's a moment of awkward silence when they're alone.

Buffy breaks it. "Do not start by saying you're sorry," she says. Because that worked out SO WELL the last time...

But Spike surprises her. "I didn't come here to atone."

"What the hell do you want?"

"I'm here to help you." Okay, that wasn't what she expected ...

"Help me what?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me." He's not being snarky, here. "You're the Slayer, connected to the visions, long line of worthies, right? I'm just a guy with his ear to the ground, and even I can feel it. Something's coming. Something so big, ugly and damned that it makes you and me look like little bitty puzzle pieces." She stares at him Well, if I'm wrong, say so. Lovely, no hard feelings, I'll walk out that door and you can lock it behind me with any spell you like. Am I wrong?

"Everything about you is wrong, Spike." He nods. Expected that, he did. Crazy, after all. And, well, Buffy... He starts for the door. And then she goes on. "But something is coming."

He comes back. "You're gonna need some help." It's a statement, but not an in-your-face one; more of an offer.

"Since when did you become the champion of the people?"

"I didn't. I'm just a guy who can lend a hand if you'll let me." He hasn't once snarked back since he arrived; he's been calm and placatory and very...UnSpikeLike. "Ball's in your court, Slayer." And he's not pushing, either.

She decides to let him help; we next see them back in the living room. Buffy is in General mode. "Xander, take Nancy home." Spike looks up, a little startled. With two teams, that leaves him with Buffy.

Nancy wants to know if Xander's girlfriend is always this...commanding. Xander is confused for a second, and then makes a huge point that Buffy isn't his girlfriend.

"Xander?" Dawn says, in that tone you use when someone has spinach in their teeth. She dabs at the corner of her mouth. "Little drool?" Xander looks embarrassed; Nancy looks a tad amused, in a good way.

General Buffy goes on. "Spike and I will check out the scene."

And Xander's throwing a penalty flag. "Okay, in the biggest way, I' am not loving this plan," he says, coming close to Buffy. "I'm not loving Spike. He tried to rape you." He whispers this last, as though to keep Spike from hearing.

Buffy gives him a solemn look. "And he failed," she says, low. Not giving an inch. "I know I can take him." Xander doesn't seem very reassured. Just to emphasize that she's the one in charge, she reiterates the order. "Xander take Nancy home. Spike and I will patrol."

Dawn, left out of the action, appropriates control. "I'm command central," she says. "Everyone check in with me." Buffy must give her A Look; in a much more subdued voice, she goes on, "Okay, I'll be here doing my homework, but the other thing sounded cooler."

Buffy smiles at her. "Be safe," she tells Dawn. Then she nods at Spike. "Let's go."

"Righty-o, then," he says, and starts after her. But Dawn stops him as he passes her. Not touching him; it's all in her very cold voice.

"Spike? You sleep, right?" He looks confused. "You, vampires," she elaborates. "You sleep."

He still isn't quite following. "Yeah, what's your point?"

She stares at him. There's nothing left of the affection we used to see. "Well," she says softly, calmly, "I can't take you in a fight, even with the chip in your head. But you sleep." Her eyes narrow the tiniest fraction. "If you hurt my sister--touch her--you're going to wake up on fire." She is mortally serious, and her expression is eloquently dangerous.

Buffy and Spike are outside, looking for the damaged pavement.

"You're awfully quiet," Spike says. An observation, but maybe an opening...

"Wouldn't know what to say," Buffy replies.

"Fine with me. I was more than half expecting to get an earful," Spike says. "And when did your sister get unbelievably scary?"

Buffy stops. "What are you doing?" This calm, unperturbable Spike is weirding her out.

He turns back to her. "I told you once, straight up, I'm here to help," he says. "That's all." He stops , looks at a huge hole in the sidewalk. "Think this here's our spot?" It's obviously a change of subject.

And she recognizes it. "How'd you guess?"

Spike peers down into the hole. "I don't fancy sticking my head in there," he says.

"Well," Buffy says, "if something bites it off, that'd be a clue." Pushing a little. But Spike only starts moving the chunks of cement so he can get a better look. SO not the old Spike...

"What happened to you?"

He looks up at her. "Well, you saw me. Those ghostly types in the school basement got in my head. Made me flat-out, bug-shagging crazy. And I'm not exactly bragging about it, but they were stronger than me. Made me see things. Do things. How come you never told anyone you saw me?" It's more idle curiosity, an attempt at conversation, than a real need to know.

"I guess I was hoping you were some kind of mirage." Another push. He still doesn't rise to the bai.

"Sorry to disappoint." He looks back into the hole, moving the flashlight around, but he can't get a good view. He holds the light up to her. "Hold the torch."

She hesitates a second. He's holding the thing so that it'll be impossible to take it without touching him. But she reaches out, gakes the flashlight. Suddenly, she's back in the bathroom, he's on top of her, ripping open her robe. She flinches away from him.

"This...us working together," she says, uncomfortable, "it's not a way for us to get back together, if that's what you want."

"It's not," he says, very matter-of-fact, as though there shouldn't even be the question . "Look, I can't blame you for being all skittish..."

"Skittish?" She interrupts him. "That's not a word I would use for it." Her face is grim. This is painful, but it has to be said. "You tried to rape me. I don't have the words."

"Neither do I." He goes back to his examination of the hole. "This is painful for him, too. Can't say sorry. Can't use 'forgive me.' All I can say is, Buffy, I've changed." He looks up at her.

"I believe you."

"Well, that's something."

But maybe not as much as he thinks. "I just don't know what you've changed into," she says. She's been waiting to ram that one home. "You come back to town, make with the big surprises. Twice. I don't know what your deal is, Spike, but there's something you're not telling me."

He looks at her. "There is," he says. Matter-of-fact again. "But we're not best friends any more, so too bad for me. I'm not sharing." That sets her back. "We've been through things, the end of the world and back. That can be useful, 'cause, honestly, I've got nothing better to do. Make use of me if you want." There is not the slightes trace of anything suggestive in that comment and he seems not to realize it might possibly be taken as suggestive. He goes on, changing the subject again. Back to business. "And there's nothing here. Bit of slime, mounds of displaced dirt and such. Whatever our beastie is, he's gone." He gets up, dusts off his hands, and walks back past Buffy.

Buffy, Spike, Xander and Nancy come up to the table in the Bronze where Anya is trying to get a wish out of a girl whose boyfriend cheated on her. The girl leaves. Xander asks whether she turned Nancy's boyfriend into a worm, and she says yes. Anya says she thought Nancy understood what the deal was, she had a quota, Ronnie had it coming.

Nancy wants to know who this woman is, and Xander, after a tiny fumfuh, says she's his ex.

"Nobody here is bragging about it!" Anya snaps, and gets up to leave.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Spike says, and comes over, grabs her arms. She wrestles his hands away. "Get your hands OFF the merchandise, Spike! You don't get to go there again..."

"Oh, please," he replies, all disdain. "I've already forgotten about our little time together."

Poor Nancy is confused. "I thought you were Xander's ex-girlfriend," she says. Right. "But you and Spike...?"

"Had a thing," Anya says.

"It didn't last," Spike puts in.

Now Nancy is really confused. "But you and Buffy..."

"Briefly," Spike says.

"=Never= serious," Buffy says, with eye-roll.

"Is there anyone here who hasn't slept together???" This is just soooo... Xander and Spike look at each other, but immediately avert their eyes. Perhaps they look a touch...uncomfortable?

More conversation about Ronnie. Buffy points out that worms are tiny, and Ronnie wasn't.

"Sluggoth demon," Spike says. A natural predator that died out during the Crusades. Anya says it was the same phylum, she just embellished a little.

Xander says, "Well, you can just unembellish, then."

"Bite me, Harris," Anya says. She has rules, vengeance demon rules, that they can't understand because they're still so... "Human." Comprehension dawns.

"I'm not," Spike says, and steps right into her personal space. There's a subtle swagger to him, that "I know I'm dead sexy" thing he does. "I'm a demon, just like yourself, Anya." She looks at him, a little surprised at first, and her eyes widen. He misses it, and goes on. "Now, you're going to turn him back, like a good little vengeance demon, or I'm going to..." He trails off as she stares at him. "What??"

"Oh, my God," she says. She looks quite amazed.

"What are you staring at?"

"Oh, my God," she says again.

He realizes that she knows. "Right, let's go," he says, and starts to leave, but she grabs his arm.

"How did you do it?

"Spike," Buffy says, confused, "What is she talking about?"

Anya isn't listening to Buffy. "I can see you," she says.

"Nothing." Spike's desperate to get out of there. "Let's go, we've got worm hunting to do." He pushes Anya away.

"You shouldn't be able to..." she says, and comes back, latches on to his arm again. "How did you get it?"

Spike tells her to shut up, but she won't. He hauls back and punches her in the face. While she down, he punches her hard in the face again, and she kicks him flying onto the pool table. She stands up, in her demon face. "I am SO gonna kick your ass," she says.

Spike comes off the pool table crotch-first. Oh, boy, a fight. With a demon. He grins and starts to make a snarky comment, but Buffy catches his arm and turns him around. "You haven't changed," she says, disgusted, and belts him one. Just a tap, considering she's knocked him across rooms before. He doesn't even hesitate; he belts her right back. She hits him again, a little harder. He goes to one knee, and when he comes back up, he's in game face, grinning.

"Working out some personal issues, are we?" he taunts. This is Season Two Spike, raunchy and cocky and having fun. Buffy hits him, then kicks him. He staggers back.

"Hey, I guess this would be first contact since...you know when..." He's baiting her. "Ready for another round on the balcony, then?" This time, she knocks him down. He just grins and gets up. "You're right, love," he says, "I haven't changed. Not a -lick-. And watching your face while you tried to figure me out was absolutely delicious."

She looks at him, not believing what she's hearing. She almost looks hurt.

Xander breaks in, tells her that Nancy has disappeared. She leaves to go after Nancy. Spike, still vamped, tosses one last taunt after her: "Hey, is that it? Little touchy-feely and then off to the bat-poles?"

In the alley, Buffy swings to Nancy's rescue. When the worm bursts up through the ground right in front of her, she gets ready to fight. But Spike leaps down from the rooftops, goes to the wall and rips a metal bar off. "You've had your turn, love," he says. "Leave the real battles to the demons, yeah?" He takes a step back, hefts the makeshift spear. "That's right," he says, "The Big Bad is back. And looking for some =death.=" He charges the worm, but at the last second the worm turns into naked, confused Ronnie. The metal bar goes through his shoulder, and he screams, and so does Spike, as his chip fires. When the pain stops, Spike stares at Ronnie, still impaled on the bar, and his eyes widen in horror. For a moment he's silent, appalled at what he's done. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and pulls the metal bar out. Ronnie collapses, and Buffy immediately pulls a blanket out of a nearby trash bin and covers him up.

Spike looks at the weapon in his hands. "Right," he says, sounding confused. Then, stronger, "Wrong. Wrong maneuver. Not hardly helpful. God, please help me..." He looks at Buffy. "HELP ME!" he shouts, desperate.

"You're not the one who needs help," Buffy snaps. She leans down to check on Ronnie. "He's going into shock."

Spike is pacing now, getting as far as he can from what he's done. He's muttering frantically. "No, no, too much, too much, too muchtoomuchtoomuch. Inside me, all the way, deep, deep, deep inside me..." His fingers scrabble at his chest, as though he can feel whatever it is, trying to get out.

"Look, Spike, whatever you're doing..." But he shouts and flails at something she can't see.

"Get away!" He tries to protect himself from something Buffy can't see; he's not totally with her.

She goes on. "Do it somewhere else. I am through with this."

"Oh, oh, lucky girl," he says, his voice rising, breaking. "Call it quits, now there's an option. If only it was so easy, if only, if only, if only...." He turns to some invisible someone, mightily pissed off. "What the HELL are you screaming about? I can hear you. No need to SHOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT..." The word starts out angry, but turns into a cry of pain; he clutches his head and goes down to his knees.

Almost immediately, his expression changes. "I get it," he says, eyes narrowed. "Joke's on me, lots of laughs." He stands up, twirls the piece of metal he's still holding. "Bring the wife and kiddies, come see the show," he says. There's an undertone of bitterness in his voice. "Gonna be a circus. This..." He comes to Buffy, slaps the bar down on the ground beside Ronnie. "Just the beginning, love. A warm-up act." His voice turns dark, scary. "The real headliner is coming, and when that band hits the stage, all this..." He stands up, opens his arms to indicate their surroundings, or mabe Sunnydale. All of this will come tumbling in screaming and horror and bloodshed."

Buffy is staring at him, dumbfounded. He's gone from perfectly rational and calm, to raunchy, to staring mad with in a few minutes. And then he speaks the words from her dream. "From beneath you, it devours." His face changes; he seems grief-stricken. "Poor Rocky..." His face twists; he's almost crying. He realizes that she's seeing this, and tries to hide it. When he can't control his emotions, he runs off, fast.

Buffy comes to the chapel beside one of the cemeteries. There's light flickering through the windows, and she goes in. The place looks empty, but there are candles lit. She walks up the aisle, wary, listening, but she's still surprised when Spike steps out of the shadows, bare to the waist and holding out his blue shirt.

"It didn't work," he says, his voice thick.

"What the hell are you..."

"Didn't work. Costume. Didn't help. Couldn't hide." He puts the shirt over the back of a pew.

This is freaking her out. "No more mind games, Spike."

He nods. He seems lost, and he's been crying. "No more mind games," he says, his voice small. "No more mind."

She's beginning to realize that something is dreadfully wrong with him. "What happened to you?" she says gently, and reaches out to touch him.

He cowers from her, raising his arms as though to protect himself. "Hey, hey, hey! No touching!" He's afraid. He looks at her, curled away from her, broken. "Am I flesh? Am I flesh to you?" His voice cracks. "Feed on flesh," he says, not really talking to her, avoiding her eyes. "My flesh. Nothing else, not a spark." He seems to hear an answer, or perhaps a comment from the invisible something that talks to him. "Oh, right flesh, then," he says. He lowers his arms, but he's still turned a little sideways, his shoulders hunched as though he expects a blow. "Solid through," he goes on, ducking his head a little. "Get it hard, service the girl..." He makes it sound like something unpleasant, as though he'll be lying back and thinking of England the whole time. He starts to unzip his pants, keeping his eyes away from Buffy.

She freaks. "Stop it!" she screams, and grabs his hands, pulls them away from his pants. His hand is immediately around her throat, but it's a reflex, and the next second she hurls him across the chapel. He crashes into a pew, breaking it. He's a little stunned, and lies there for a second. Then he sits up. "Right," he says, sounding a little bewildered; this always used to work. "Girl doesn't want to be serviced. Because there's no spark." He looks around, seeming to notice the wreckage of the pew. "Are we in a sodding engine?"

"Spike, have you completely lost your mind?" She's looking at him as though he's suddenly grown two extra heads.

"Well, YES," he says, and for one moment he's the old Spike, big with the DUH. "Where've you been all night?"

She's still trying to take in what just happened. "You thought you could just come back and...be with me?"

"First time for everything," he mumbles, not looking at her, and gives something that might be a brief, bitter laugh.

"This is all you get. I'm listening. Tell me what happened."

"I tried to find it, of course." He can't look at her when he says it.

"Find what?"

"The spark. The missing... the piece. That fit. That made me fit." His breath catches as he talks, his voice trembles. "Because you didn't want m..." He's almost crying again. "God, I can't. Not with you -watching-." He scuttles backward, away from her, into the shadows. He stands up, walks deeper into the darkness. The moonlight gleams on his bare shoulder, but his face is completely hidden in the shadows.

"I dreamed of killing you," he says. Is he making a statement, or expressing a wish? She doesn't know; she leans down and picks up a sharp piece of wood from the destroyed pew. "I think they were dreams." He moves farther away, into a corner. "So weak," he says. "Did you make me weak? Thinking of you, holding myself and spilling useless buckets of salt over your..." He can't even say the word, and choses another. "Ending." He makes a sound that is almost a laugh. "Angel. He shoulda warned me."

And she knows. Horror at what she realizes he's done comes over her face.

"Makes a big show of forgetting," he goes on, "but it's here. In me. All the time. The spark." The word is a curse now.

He steps out of the shadows. "I wanted to give you what you deserve," he says. "And I got it. They put the spark in me, and now all it does is burn."

"Your soul?" The enormity of it makes her voice very small.

He laughs, weakly. "Bit worse for lack of use," he says, trying to downplay it.

"You got your soul back. How?"

He looks at her, perhaps starting to be a little alarmed. "It's what you wanted, right?" He looks up, not talking to Buffy any more. "It's what You wanted, right? And and now everybody's in here. Talking." His fingers dig into his temples, and he walks away from Buffy, toward the large cross at the front of the chapel. "Everything I did, everyone I.. and him. And It. The other. The thing. Beneath. Beneath -you-. " His shoulders slump, his head hangs bowed. "It's here, too. Everybody. They all tell me go..." He turns, gives her a pitiful look. She stands there, stunned, struck dumb by it. "Go...to hell," he finishes.

Finally, she's able to speak. "Why? Why would you do that..."

He interrupts her. "Buffy, shame on you. Why does a man do what he mustn't? For her." His voice begins to break. "To be hers. To be the kind of man who would nev..." He breaks off, unable to continue, and turns away from her again. "To be the kind of =man=..." The word is almost a sob. He steps forward, toward the cross. "And she shall look on him with forgiveness, and everybody will forgive and love. He will be loved." Buffy watches him, her throat working, and tears spill down her cheeks. "So everything's okay, right?" He steps up to the cross and calmly, peacefully, puts his arms over the crossbars, lays his head beside one arm. Smoke begins to rise from his flesh as it burns. "Can we rest now?" he says quietly, as Buffy continues to cry. "Buffy? Can we rest?" We see him, draped across the cross, burning.

--

Dori

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