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West of the Moon, East of the Sun by KnifeEdge
 
Chapter 41: Mental Hell
 
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Author’s Note: This chapter covers the same time period as Chapter 10.

I’m so glad that so many of you are enjoying this. I’ve read a lot of reviews and comments from people who wonder what Buffy is thinking of all this, and I do want to reassure you that we will get her reaction, when the journal is over. However… I’m not going to do a full recap or play-by-play of her responses. You’ve been in her head for 33 chapters now… in a sense, consider that, as you’re reading this YOU are Buffy. If you’re reacting to it in some way, there’s a fairly good chance she is, too. Maybe not exactly the same way (cause most of us already like Spike), but if something is jumping out at you, it’s more than likely ringing her bells, too.

What Buffy, however, may see differently: to her Spike is still very much a monster. And he’s NOT a nice guy. He might sometimes do things that seem nice, but at heart, Spike is still a vampire, and he does things for a vampire’s reasons.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.

Betaed by Phuriedae* and Science.
*because Spike is English, I’ve made a rather anal retentive attempt to spell things “properly.” My beta (who IS British), has asked that I include the following disclaimer: “Any Britpicking mistakes are my beta's, because she reads too much fic written by you bloody Americans and is used to your bizarre ways by now."







Chapter 41

Mental Hell


28 November 2000

Bloody, buggering fuck.

Should have known the White Queen wouldn't be happy to leave me be till the year and day were up. Truth is… I'd put her to the back of my head. Been kind of enjoying things for a while now. Get the Slayer in my bed every night. Get to fight with her without worrying about dusting. Get her warmth and her perky little attitude without any of her bitchiness. She talks to me now, opens up… and I can't cock things up by opening my bloody mouth. Almost, sort of like we're… friends.

I'm a wanker if I think that applies when she's conscious, of course. Bloody well know she'd dust me if she knew who she was spilling her guts to every night, who she was crying on, who she was practically begging to fight her. Not the same as shagging, but it's still a bloody dream come true, being able to be so close.

I'll take what I can get, yeah? Not afraid to admit that I'll scramble for whatever crumbs I'm tossed. Better than I deserve. It's something not even Finn can touch… not that he's doing much touching lately. Can barely smell him on her.

He's not gonna last much longer. They're growing too far apart. Only a matter of time before their relationship crumbles. Not sure what I'll do then, but if there's an opening… If Mr. G can earn her damned trust then maybe…

If I've got time.

Should have known Frosty would turn up to check on her investment soon or later.

Woke up feeling like a vamp-sicle. Don't feel cold like humans do. Doesn't slow my muscles down or make my organs get all panicky. Hell, can bathe in ice water and still get a hard on, if I want.

This was different. This was pain.

"Good morning, lover," she said, splaying her icy hand across my torso.

Was out of bed in a flash, halfway across the room and suddenly glad I'd been sleeping clothed since this started. No way I wanted her hands wrapped around my perkier bits. T-shirt was already bloody frozen to my chest where she'd touched me.

"Fuck off," I told her. "I still got a few months left."

"You've been a naughty boy," she said, propping herself up on one elbow. The way she moved her leg should have been a turn on, but all I wanted was to shove an axe through her neck. She must have sensed it, because next thing I knew I was frozen in place, unable to move anything but my head.

"Haven't. Kept your bleeding rules, haven't I, you icy cunt? Haven't said a single word. And it’s not your time. Let me loose."

"Silly creature," she cooed through bluish lips. When she got up and came toward me, she didn't bother walking, just drifted. "I know about your tricks. Very clever of you, to find a way to communicate without speaking. Pity you haven't thought it through."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked. That last bit was making me nervous, but I wasn't about to clue her in to that.

"You think your little Slayer isn't going to eventually get curious? She'll want to know who she's dreaming about every night. What will you do when she realises that all she has to do is ask if you're… you?"

Thought had crossed my mind a couple of times. All she had to do was say "Are you Spike?" and I was buggered. Could lie, but I didn't like that thought. Could tell the truth, but then she'd probably dust me.

"Hasn't yet," I said with as much swagger as I could muster with my head alone. "Deal with it when it happens, I suppose."

"You think she will simply leave it alone? She will want to know… want to see for herself," she said, toying with the hem of my shirt. Frost crept up the fabric, burning into my skin.

"Well she can't, since you've turned off all the bloody lights," I said.

"She's a clever girl," she said. "I'm sure she will find a way."

The hell of it is, she's right. Slayer wants something, she usually finds a way to get it. Well… then I'm just gonna have to try to distract her. Get her to trust me enough that she won't care who I am, even if she does suss it out. She’s halfway to trusting Mr. Gordo already… just gotta make her trust me when she’s awake, too. Maybe if she figures I'm on her side, she won't care if she starts to think she's dreaming of me.

"I'll deal with it if it happens, Snowflake. Now get your icy claws off me."

She laughed, and even that hurt. Like icicles crashing to the ground.

"When it happens, and it will, there won't be time to 'deal with it'… all it takes is one little glance, one little word, one little slip of your pretty little fangs… and then you're mine. Forever. And I've got such lovely plans for you," she was grinning, but she backed away, drifting around the crypt.

Where the fuck is Harmony when I need backup? Not that Harm could do much against this bitch, but maybe she’d annoy Louhi to death. There’s a happy thought.

She picked up one of my knives and I watched frost crawl up the blade. Fuck. "Oi! I liked that one and you're gonna rust it all to hell, you daft cow." She laughed.

"Oh, yes," she said. "I'd nearly forgotten your little… problem. Must be terrible, not being able to hunt or feed. Forced to kill your own kind."

Wouldn't be terrible at all, if I could rip her head off.

"Give it up now, William," she said, drifting back over. "Come with me willingly, and I will remove your muzzle. You’ll be free to feed as you please and I shall make certain you feast. The Slayer could be the first to fall under your fangs. I might even let you keep her for your own toy." She was running the icy edge of the knife over my shirt, cutting it carefully to ribbons and leaving frost black marks across my skin.

"That right?" I said. "You'll get this chip out of my head, if I'll come with you?"

"Say the word and it is done, darling," she purred, a triumphant little smile on her lips.

"Right then, easy choice," I said. She leaned in closer and I could feel her arctic breath on my face, making my eyes water.

"Go. To. Hell. You stupid, sadistic, cunt."

I might hate the damned chip, but I hate her more. Wasn't a chance I was going to go with her willingly, not if I could fight it. I've got no interest in being this bitch's toy vampire. If I'd wanted that, I'd have stayed locked up in the Initiative's pretty little white electrified box. Swore I’d never be that helpless again. The Slayer and her chums might be berks, but at least they treated me mostly decent, when I was at their bloody mercy. Could have done without the bathtub, however.

This chip's my ticket to a continued unlife… for now, at least. I can put up with it for a little longer, if it means beating old Louhi at her own game.

She wasn't expecting my response, I guess. She reeled back as if I'd slapped her.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "There's still plenty of time. One of you will break. And in the meantime, I’ve an open doorway into your world. I'm having so much fun exploring, too. Did you know you have a Hellmouth here?"

"Yeah," I said, "Got a pretty beach, too. You should visit. Hang out in the sun for a bit, see if you melt. Could stand to lose a few pounds round your hips there, Häagen-Dazs."

The knife was so cold I barely felt it when she drove it into my gut. Barely.

"I think the first thing I will do, once you're mine, is to freeze your vocal chords," she said. "I'd cut out your tongue, but that would be such a waste. I've plans for it, too."

Yeah, just bet she does. Or at least she will till I get down there and rip a chunk out of her with my fangs. Then we'll see, won't we?

"Sod off, bitch," I said, gritting my teeth. "You've had your fun, now scamper off and leave me be."

"You think I've had my fill?" she said. "I've only just started, pretty." She yanked the dagger out of me and held it up, looking at the icy blade. "You know, of course, that the Slayer's mother is ill… tsk. Humans are so very fragile, aren't they? I've a pet that would so enjoy a meal like her to feast on. Perhaps I'll send it her way…"

"Leave her out of it," I said. Fuck. Not Joyce.

"Tsk. Shhh, pretty. It won’t hurt her… much."

Which is how I ended up here, once she left. Stuck in the Slayer's sodding basement while she and mum are upstairs. She catches me I'm not sure how I'm gonna explain it, but I won’t let Louhi's pet go after Joyce. It’s one thing to hurt me, or the Slayer—we’re built to take it. Joyce isn’t.

I'd hung round the hospital, trying to keep out of sight, til I saw they were checking out. Trailed them here. Was a bit of commotion, a little while ago, had to listen for a few to figure out what was going on. Her mum's acting a bit off, thanks to the tumour. But Buffy got her tucked back in bed, and now the Slayer's in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess and sobbing her bloody eyes out.

I want to go up and… don’t know. Give her something to cry on. Or beat on. She’d probably get miffed that I'm here at all. So I'll wait and see what

[Note: This entry cuts off abruptly. The next starts on a fresh page. It is assumed that the author was interrupted while writing.]

***


29 November 2000 (2 am)

Ugly little demon rat. Not sure what it was, but I'm sure old Rupes will suss it out soon enough. Kept going after the Slayer, once it realised what I was… or wasn't. Was a chancy moment when it somehow managed to pin Buffy down. Not sure what it was doing, but her eyes went funny and she stopped fighting, laying there under it as if it were feeding on her. If I had a heartbeat, that would have stopped it. Once I kicked it off, though, she snapped out of it.

I tried, before it attacked, to warn her. Tried to tell her why I was there, but that sodding spell the White Witch put on me locks the words up and won't let them out. Buffy barely glanced at this old journal before the thing attacked, and she'd clearly forgotten it by the time it was over.

Gotta figure out some way of letting her know what's what. If Louhi's going to be mucking about in this dimension, Slayer needs to know. Maybe they can stop her and get me out of this bargain, while they're at it.

Fuck. Who'm I kidding? They'd likely wrap me up in chains and send me to her courtesy post if they thought they could be rid of me.

Or maybe not. They’ve helped me before with less cause, and if some icy tart’s planning to muck about with the Hellmouth, maybe I can talk my way out of a staking. Just gotta find the right way to do it. After what happened tonight, maybe I’ve got an in. I helped, didn’t I?

Don't know why, exactly, but when it was over, Buffy let me help her up. For a minute there, she held my hand. As if… almost as if she trusted me.

Can't be right, of course. Slayer can't stand me. It's Mr. G she's willing to trust…which makes no sense. I can't physically hurt her. And she knows now that Mr. G doesn't have a sodding chip. Not one that works, at any rate.

Still, put a bit of a spring in my step when her Finn stumbled in on our cosy little scene. Tosser’s face got all red, seeing me and his honey holding hands and practically ready for a snog. Buffy took off upstairs, to check on her mum, then. So she didn't get to hear him threatening me as if I were a bloody criminal for helping the girl.

If I had a nickle for every time one of the Scoobies threatened to stake me, I'd be rolling in blood and smokes for the next decade.

He kicked me out right quick but… I got to thinking: I need the Slayer to trust me, yeah? Maybe if she thinks I’m trying to help, trying to work on her side, then when she finds out about this bloody challenge of mine she won’t want to dust me.

Tried to suss out what she’d need help with. Decided to take the demon over to the Watcher, see if he knew what it was. Besides, better to know if Louhi’s got more of them lurking about. Give me something to kill, at any rate.

So, I waited outside till the lot of them left for the hospital, then went back in and collected the corpse.

Watcher was asleep when I got there, so I let myself in.

"Spike?" Rupert always looks so befuddled when he's groggy. I dumped the ugly rat thing on the couch as he wandered down the stairs, pulling on a robe. A robe, for chrissakes. What kind of man wears a bloody robe in this century?

"This thing went after the Slayer's mum,” I said. “About half an hour ago.”

"What is it?" He stooped over the corpse, then pinched his nose. "Ugh. Get it off the couch, you pillock. That stench is going to soak into the upholstery."

"So?" He gave me a look that said clear as daylight that this was one of those things a soulless demon couldn't possibly comprehend. Right. Upholstery being far more important than figuring out what this thing is. I'm sure Angel would have had more of a care.

I rolled it off onto the floor and we both crouched over it.

"Ugly little bastard," I said, twisting the head up so we could get a better look. It's face was a bit battered from my fists, but you could still make out the basics, I thought. Couple of beady eyes, might’ve mashed up the nose a bit. Stumpy little teeth. "Any idea what it is?"

"It looks familiar," Rupert said, frowning at it. Then he glanced up. "What are you doing, Spike?"

"What?"

"Did Buffy ask you to bring this here?" Now he was looking suspicious. Balls. Can't a vamp bring a corpse over in the middle of the night for identification without getting the bloody third degree?

"No. Slayer and the soldier took her mum back to the hospital. Left it stinking up her foyer." I was a bit lost. No clue what he was getting at. "Figured she'd want you to have a look at it, so I brought it by."

"What exactly were you doing at Buffy's in the first place?"

Opened my mouth to tell him, and practically choked on the words. Bugger. I tried again, but I couldn't get the words out. Finally I reached in my duster and yanked out this journal, slammed it down on Ugly's chest.

You know, for someone who calls himself a Watcher, he's bloody unobservant. Either that or the spell extends to the journal, too. His eyes slid right over it. Probably a good thing, considering the contents, but still…

"What were you doing at Buffy's?" he repeated, as if I were deaf.

With a growl I stuffed the book back in my coat. "Stealing, alright?" I said, getting angry. "Needed some… junk. Happened to see some in her basement. Look, does it really matter? That thing was feedin' off her mum, then went after the Slayer. Pinned her down and was… doing something to her. She checked right out, mid-fight. I kicked it off, we killed it, end of story. Now are you gonna tell me what this fucking thing is so we can find out if there are more?"

Rupes took off his glasses and started polishing. Yeah. Cause it's so much easier to see what's staring you in the face when you're blind as a bat.

"You're telling me you helped Buffy… out of the evilness of your heart?" he said.

I might've sputtered for a bit. Fuck. Had a choice then, didn't I? Could give him the closest thing I could to the truth. Or I could play it off, be the Big Bad.

Need the wanker to trust me, though, else I don't stand a chance of getting out of the hell bitch’s bargain. Watcher’s the brains of their operation, and the Slayer will want his approval.

"Well," I said, finally. "Yeah."

"Forgive me if I find that hard to believe, Spike."

Yeah, that brassed me right off. Berk's blind after all. So in order for him to trust my word there's got to be something in it for me? Fine. I sighed and told him what he wanted to hear.

"Running low on blood," I said. Wasn't, but he didn't know that. "Could use some dosh. Thought maybe playing delivery boy would earn me a tip."

Amazing, isn’t it, how one little lie will smooth things right out? Looking for pay was preferable to me trying to help.

He got up and headed for his desk. Thought, finally, maybe I’d get some answers—except he fished out some cash and held it up. "Thank you, Spike. Your assistance is much appreciated."

Been around long enough to know a dismissal when I hear it. "That's it then? Not even gonna look at this thing?"

"I'll look into it," he said. "Not that it's any of your concern."

Bloody hell. I snatched the dosh out of his hand and headed for the door. "Hope it stinks up your carpet, you cynical old bastard." Slammed it on my way out.

Ought to learn to control my temper, I suppose.

Should have known better than to think he'd just accept what I said at face value.

Soulless demon. Right.

My fault for forgetting it.

***


29 November 2000 (noon)

Sparred with the Slayer again last night. Bloke could get used to this.

It's not quite what I want, but it's the next best thing, yeah? Being there with her, able to touch her, watch her. Her scent all around me, drowning me in it. God. She gets so worked up. In the dark she forgets to guard her expression, so I get to watch it all play out. All her concentration, her delight when she manages to land a punch, her frustration when I get past her guard.

Best part is… she's with me.

Well, not me, exactly… what I mean is, she's present. Focused. As aware of me as she can be.

Somehow she's convinced herself that this is all a bloody dream, and that there's nothing really to fear.

She trusts me.

Makes me wish I had that all the time.

She might not ever love me… hell, I know she won't… but maybe she might let me…

Fuck. I gotta stop that.

No use denying it, though. I'm changing. Maybe it's the bloody chip, maybe it's just her, but I'm changing… and I'm not sure I know how to go back to what I was, even if I wanted to.

***


When I too long have looked upon your face,
Wherein for me a brightness unobscured
Save by the mists of brightness has its place,
And terrible beauty not to be endured,
I turn away reluctant from your light,
And stand irresolute, a mind undone,
A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight
From having looked too long upon the sun.
Then is my daily life a narrow room
In which a little while, uncertainly,
Surrounded by impenetrable gloom,
Among familiar things grown strange to me
Making my way, I pause, and feel, and hark,
Till I become accustomed to the dark.
—Edna St. Vincent Millay




 
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