Underneath This Smile....



Buffy stared blankly at the figure in the mirror. Skipping past the bags under her eyes and the frown lines around her mouth she focused on the body of the person in the mirror.

Looking at the disgusting rolls of fat and cellulite she let out a whimper, the revulsion she felt inside churning as she turned away from the mirror, reaching for her scissors.

_

“Buffy!” Dawn yelled, pushing open the door to see what was keeping her sister. Apparently, nothing was keeping her. She just hadn’t gotten her butt out of bed yet.

“I’m going to school now. OK?” She said slowly. Buffy nodded in response, feeling guilty for not getting up in time to see her off, but at the same time not caring very much.

She watched her little sister leave the room and waited until she heard the front door slam in her wake before pushing off the covers and swinging herself into a sitting position.

She winced as the shorts she had on ripped away from the cuts on her thighs. The dark crusted blood gave way to fresh red liquid that seeped through the thin material as she sat and watched.

Buffy sat and watched the blood seep into her shorts, the patch slowly growing in size until the sound of the telephone broke her trance. Answering it, she agreed to meet Giles at the Magic Box to discuss something important.

It seemed that everything they wanted nowadays was important to them. Buffy taking care of Dawn was important, Buffy eating was important, Buffy sleeping was important, Buffy breathing was important. She figured that her kiss with Spike would probably be important to them as well, but there was no way she would let that one slip.

That was her private knowledge. The one thing Buffy could control now. Spike.

_

Giles was leaving. Giles had left. Was it because of her? Was she too fat? Too ugly? Did she come back different? Did she-

“Buffy?”

She stopped what she was doing; pulled her black sweat pants up and opened the door to Willow.

“Hey.” She greeted nervously,

“Have you finished?” Willow asked, not waiting for a reply before she stepped into the bathroom. “I just-” and before she could finish she dissolved into tears. Buffy backed away from her friend quickly, leaving the door open as she picked up her jacket and fled to the Bronze.

No one would think to look for her there. Buffy was too mopey to go to the Bronze. Buffy should be patrolling, not having fun.

Finding a seat at the bar she snatched up a yellow napkin and began to dig her nails into it, twisting it into her palms to make it hurt. Hurt was good. Giles gone was bad.

She was still sitting there, clutching her napkin, staring straight ahead when Spike appeared. He was the last person she wanted to see. Her life was spiralling out of her control and he’d know in just one second. He’d have power over her then. Just like everyone else. She turned her head to him and looked blankly, his eyebrow rising in that way of his as he tried to read her eyes. She turned her head defiantly and willed herself not to cry, the lump in her throat getting harder to swallow as the tingly feeling she got when Spike was around gradually receded to a comfortable level.

It hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time,

Those were some appropriate lyrics she thought sadly. A girl knocked past her stool, jarring Buffy’s leg and the pain of her fresh cuts pushed the melancholy thoughts from her mind. Jumping down she quickly walked in the direction Spike had gone, anticipating finding him in the alley or nearest cemetery. She was surprised when a hand reached out and roughly grabbed her, swinging her around so her back was in contact with a pillar. She blinked, her eyes almost owlish as he smirked and leant in, his lips getter closer and closer until she closed her eyes and let Spike take control.

_

Buffy awoke in a daze. There was no pain, no gentle throbbing where her flesh had met the scissors, no dizziness from underage drinking. There was nothing.

Nothing except her stomach growling to be fed. She pushed the thought of food away in disgust. She was fat. She needed this diet otherwise her friends would leave her, vamps and demons would start to get the better of her, Angel wouldn’t want her. And she wouldn’t be able to control Spike.

She focused on the night before, a smile gracing her lips, breaking out from the thin hard line her mouth usually was. She had let Spike kiss her again. The comfort she found in his cool arms, the way his lips felt like cold raw silk, his tongue chilling her heated mouth as they kissed. The smile left her face all too soon as she realised Dawn had just slammed the door, not even saying goodbye before she left for school.

At least she thought it was a school day. It might be the weekend, she didn’t really know.

Or care.

She lay in bed, her thoughts on yesterday and how good it felt to be Joan. Joan was good, a superhero with great powers. People liked Joan because she was thin. Joan was who Buffy wanted to be, and yet she knew when she stepped out of her room, she would be Buffy.

Good old reliable ‘save the day’ Buffy.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Resigning herself to that fact she slid out of bed and into the bathroom to start yet another endlessly gruelling day.



*****



Holding her stomach tightly to try to prevent it from growling at her she made her way to the Sunnydale Museum. Yet another weird day in Sunnydale, and this time there was a de-ratified Amy and a frozen man. What kind of demon froze people? Couldn’t they just eat them like every other demon in town?

The cookies she had seen Amy eating were burned into the back of her mind, the smell, the look, the taste. She’d welcomed the excuse to get out of the house at that point. Anything to stop her from eating the cookies and making idle chit-chat. At least Amy partly understood what she was going through. Being a rat for 3 years must be almost as difficult as being dead for 4 months. At least when she was a rat she was alive, and when she was brought back she wasn’t left in a dark, dank, smelly coffin. She-

“Well, well, well.” She heard a familiar accent drawl. “Look who decided to show up.”

“What are you doing here, Spike?” She demanded, the open hostility in her voice having no visible impact on his advance,
”Well, you know, a man was frozen alive in there. A little compassion, luv.”

Yeah great. She thought bitterly. Now I’m being lectured on compassion by the evil soulless bloodsucker. Could my life get any greater?

“Uh, you know, as long as we're both here, you might as well tag along. I mean, as a team we could-”

Here we go again, Buffy shuddered. I come out to escape the cookies and get hounded by another guilty secret.

“That never really ends well does it Spike?” She shot back with as much spite as she could muster. Turning away from him so there was no chance of Spike glimpsing the vulnerability she knew was glistening in her eyes she set off around the side of the museum.

“It did the other night!” Spike called hopefully,

“It was just a kiss Spike.” Buffy countered. “Doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Awfully quick to dismiss them though aren’t we Slayer?” He taunted, his voice floating to her, taunting her senses and goading her into turning around.

“FYI, I wasn’t even thinking about you when we kissed.” She told him calmly. She had to keep her face completely impassive or he’d know something was up. Something that she would never allow because then he’d see how weak she was. How pathetic and stupid Buffy the Vampire Slayer really was.

“It was my name you were moaning Slayer, bet I could make you scre-”

“Stop!” She ordered, her leg giving way over a lump in the grass and nearly collapsing on her butt.

Cursing herself for being stupid and fat, she leant nonchalantly against the museum wall, her face masked in dark shadows as she felt for open cuts. Satisfied that there were none she pushed herself away before Spike could pin her in. Not giving him the chance he wanted was just how she wanted it. She could come to him when she wanted, she could control how and when. She liked this kind of control.



Seeing the Slayer stumble over nothing made Spike lurch forward, his desire to protect her overwhelming his basic instinct that was screaming at him to stand back and laugh at her. Seeing her right herself and lean back against the brickwork only made him more suspicious. The old Buffy would have threatened him and stalked off if he’d seen a moment of weakness, but she seemed to be resigned to the fact that she wasn’t as good as she used to be. Staring at her face through the darkness he scowled. What the bloody hell was wrong with the bint?

Buffy, growing tired of walking, her unfed body refusing to work as well as usual, ducked in through an open window to snoop around and have a quick rest. Seeing her chance to get to the crime scene while Sunnydale’s finest worked on keeping the crowd at bay at the front entrance, she vaulted the barrier, her knees protesting as she landed, she snuck out of sight and into the room where the diamond was stolen from and began to investigate for usual signs of a demon break in. Smashed cabinets, slime trails and dents in the wall were usually a good start.



Spike made his way to Willy’s, muttering under his non-existent breath all the way. There was definitely something off about the Slayer, she wasn’t completely right since she’d been back but instead of getting better, she was getting worse.

Sitting in the bar, his bottle of whisky helping him to come up with a variety of ludicrous things that could be affecting the Slayer he almost laughed himself sober. Something was up and there was no way he could let it continue to get worse.

-

Sitting around the dining table in Xander and Anya’s apartment, Willow looked anywhere but at the bickering couple in front of her. She was bored of watching her best friend argue with his fiancée, she was bored of Anya full stop. Anya was just someone you keep around for entertainment purposes in her mind. Turning her head to see if she could see the TV screen from where she was sat she sighed in disappointment, that was a bust. Her mind began to wander, tuning out the background noise of the TV and Xander and Anya, the last time she had been here, Tara was with her. They had seemed happy and couple-y, or so she had thought until she was confronted by Tara about being a better witch than her. She was just jealous of her new found, powerful magic. Smiling she turned back to her friend,

“Uh, hello?” She interrupted the arguing couple, “Are we going to discuss Buffy or are we going to argue about whose fault it all is?”



*****



Slinking in the door Spike cleared his throat completely unnecessarily. Her face blanching Buffy backed away from the chair she had been about to sit in. Xander and Anya had left for the night and she had realised that leaving her house keys in here wasn’t a good idea so had come back to get them.

Finding her keys on the table, she had begun to doodle on her notepad, sketches of angels, demons, blood, guts, death and dismemberment littered the pages and she quickly slammed it shut, not wanting Spike to have anymore insight into her turbulent emotions.

“What now?” She demanded, this was all she needed, all she wanted to do as go home and crawl into bed.

“Thought you might want to patrol.” Spike shrugged. He knew there was something off and he was going to get to the bottom of it. Not waiting for an answer, he held open the door, looking at her expectantly. Sighing, she rose from her seat and followed him down the street. Listening as he talked, mostly to himself.



“That’s it Spike!” Buffy shrieked, her pent up rage getting the best of her. Spike had been taunting her all night, making snappy comments and lewd remarks about anything and everything. Stopping she whirled around to face him, “Can you just shut up and go home?”

“What’s wrong Slayer?” He asked, his snarky tone gone, instantly replaced with concern. “You can tell me, S’not like I’m gonna tell anyone is it?” His only answer was a particularly powerful right hook that knocked him to the floor.

Slipping in the front door, Buffy was faced with letting Dawn and Willow know she was alright, or ducking straight up to bed and avoiding the confrontation she knew was inevitable.

Climbing the stairs she felt the familiar twinges of guilt. Changing her course she headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind her as she got out her scissors.

Hearing the door open, Dawn finished making her sandwich and wandered through the house, expecting to find Buffy or Willow. Seeing nobody, she took herself back to bed, the silence of the house making her wish she hadn’t let Tara go home after their evening out.

Waking up to a strange sensation, Buffy gingerly felt for whatever was causing the wet patch in her bed. Pulling her hand out from under the covers she was sickened by what she saw. The damage she had inflicted upon herself had obviously been more than her Slayer healing could handle for the bleeding that she had assumed would stop as normal had carried on, dripping crimson onto her pale sheets throughout the early hours of the morning.

Deciding that it was too much effort to get up and change the sheets at four am, she slipped a pair of sweats on and scrambled out the window. Hitting the ground below, she looked around. Where could she go? All the sensible demons were just going to bed at this time, so a patrol would be useless. Besides, she had already patrolled with Spike.

That’s it! Her brain crowed, Spike would never turn me away. Spike wouldn’t even ask what was wrong.

Spike was asleep in his lower crypt when the scent of Slayer blood wafted through his senses. Jumping up he was surprised to see Buffy standing at the foot of his bed. The scent of her blood was so powerful, his sleep hazed mind had half expected her to be crawling in pain. She looked suspiciously well and he voiced this thought earning him an evil glare.

“I need to borrow your bed.” She stated simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Spike frowned at her,

“You need to borrow my bed?” He repeated slowly. “To do what?”

Scowling, she ducked her head, staring at the floor as she mumbled something he nearly didn’t catch.

“You want to sleep in my bed?” Spike was dumbfounded. The Slayer, was here, asking to sleep in his bed. Her heavenly smell would linger for weeks after this. Smell. Her blood, why was she here now?

“Some nasty take a bite?” He asked casually, sniffing the air for her to understand. She flushed, her cheeks tinged crimson as she smiled in almost an apologetic way.

“Just a scratch. So can I?”

Keeping his face impassive, Spike gestured to the bed, watching in delight as she crawled up in. His dick ached from the sight and the smell of Buffy Summers crawling up his bed. Telling himself that it was probably a hallucination from all the whisky he had consumed just hours before he perched on the end of the bed, just watching as her eyes floated shut, the lines on her face dissolving leaving behind a vulnerable looking girl.

Spike sat on the end of his bed for what seemed like hours, just watching and studying the defenceless girl in his bed. All she had been wearing was sweats and an oversized shirt. Looking at the goose pimples that dotted her flesh he sighed. Crawling up the bed to be closer to her, Spike pulled the covers up over her shoulders, his arm protectively covering her as he spooned into her back.

This was it. He had died and gone to heaven without realising it.



*****



Spike turned in his sleep, his arm still wrapped around the Slayer but something was wrong. Forcing himself to calm down, he realised that she was struggling to breathe. Shaking her arm urgently, he panicked when she remained unconscious.

Sitting up and pulling her limp form into his lap he pursed her lips with his fingers, the pale purple mottle of her skin scaring him more than anything had ever done in over a century.

Taking a mouthful of air, he held it in his mouth, fixing his lips on hers and expelling the air with as much force as possible. He knew not breathing would come back to kick him in the arse one day, he just didn’t realise how desperate he’d be at that time. Repeating the action he was rewarded by the object of his love choking on the excess air, her body responding by kick-starting her breathing mechanism. Coughing was a good sign in Spike’s book and he hugged her close to him, inhaling her unique scent before she was strong enough to protest or push him away.

All too soon, her eyes opened and her breathing regulated, her skin slowly regaining its unhealthy pale tone. Not realising when her skin had lost it's golden shine and gotten so pale, he berated himself for not noticing this seemingly insignificant thing.

Opening her eyes to see Spike staring back at her was a shock to Buffy. Not knowing how she came to be lying in his arms, she pulled away from his, her eyes flashing with disgust.

She sat up, surveying her surroundings. Seeing that she was in his crypt, the memories of how she came to be there flickering through the haze and she frowned, tenderly pressing on the fresh cuts that littered her thighs.

Inspecting her legs, Spike realised where the blood had been seeping from all night, keeping him from proper sleep with its siren’s call.

Stupid fucking girl had been slitting herself open.

“What the fuck did you do?” His voice was low and dangerous. Shivering at his deadly tone, she froze, knowing that he knew was something Buffy had never even bothered to think about. This was her own personal escape, how dare he know?

He lashed out, grabbing her arms and holding them as tight as he could. Seeing her wince in pain he realised that he could hurt her. Squeezing to test this theory he was rewarded with a whimper from the Slayer. Deciding to keep this vital titbit for himself, he repeated his question.

“What do you think?” She answered, unwilling to play along while he was hurting her. Assuming that the chip didn’t register that he was hurting her because he was only holding her, Buffy struggled to get away, watching to see his reaction when he realised the pain he was causing.

Not even a blink so much as graced his features as he held her forcefully upright.

“I cut me.” She whispered, her voice catching in her sore throat. “I cut me and watch me bleed. Is that what you want to hear? How completely fucked up this Slayer is? How close to death she comes each night in the comfort of her own home? How desperately she clings to the edge, hoping something will come along and push her off? Do you? Do-”

Cutting her off with his lips, Spike kept his kiss brutal yet chaste, his tongue never straying from its prison inside his mouth as his lips bruised hers.

Feeling Spike’s lips pressed against hers, the tears welling in her eyes and the lump rising in her throat were stopped in their tracks. This wasn’t about passion or love, this was about need.

Buffy needed the release, Spike needed Buffy. That about summed it up in their heads before they began ripping at clothes and clawing at bodies in a desperate attempt to escape reality.



*****



Waking up to find the house still empty, Dawn began to panic. Buffy wasn’t at all caring these days, since she had been… gone, but she always made a point to be home for Dawn at night though. And thinking about it, where the hell was Willow?

Calling Xander was the first thing she did, not caring about Anya’s comments in the background about what time it was. Like she cared if it was still seven in the morning, her sister was missing. She could be lying somewhere in a ditch! Maybe dead in the graveyard? Or someone might have turned her? Or kidnapped her? Or-

“Hey.” Willow said, strolling through the door with someone following her. “Oh,” She muttered, looking at Dawn’s puzzled face, “Amy, this is Dawn, Dawn, Amy? The rat?” She looked apologetically at the former rat, who smiled in return.

“You turned Amy back?” Dawn asked, dropping the phone onto the counter, “When?”

“Last night.” The red-haired witch told her proudly, “I just knew I could do it and I did!”

“Great.” Dawn replied coldly, pissed off that Willow had been out having fun while she was home alone, worrying about her and, “Buffy! Is she with you?”

Seeing Willow frown, her worry returned tenfold. Where the hell could Buffy be?

Letting himself in the back door, Xander looked at the group assembled in the kitchen, nodding to Amy he addressed Dawn, ignoring Willow for reasons unknown to Dawn.

“She’s not in the graveyards.” He told her, “Maybe she went out for something?”

“From where?” Dawn asked, “China?”

“Let’s just go and search.” Anya appeared from behind her fiancée, holding the backdoor open for everyone to file out, she threw a dirty glare in Willow’s direction, leaving the door for her to open herself after Dawn and Xander had walked through.

Catching the door before it slammed, Willow ushered Amy through, puzzled by the cold behaviour exhibited by her friends. Shrugging it off as the buzz of magic making her shiver when the cold air outside raced up her spine, she followed her friends as they set off to scour the graveyards for Buffy.



An hour later, the silent group made their way back through the door to the Summers kitchen, Dawn holding in the tears of grief, the fact that they had no proof was the only hope she was desperately clinging to that her sister wasn’t dead. Again.

“Hey guys.” Buffy greeted them, a false smile plastered across her face. “What’s up?”

She was instantly surrounded by everyone trying to hug and touch her at the same time. Pulling away in a panic, she calmed herself, the overwhelming urge to run being squashed by the tears on Dawn’s face.

“Bitch.” Dawn whispered venomously, the tears of sorrow quickly turning to tears of rage. Buffy had been gone all night and half of the day and she didn’t even consider that people would be worried about her. Since she had returned from, being… gone, she hadn’t cared about her, about her friends or even about herself. She was sick and tired of taking care of herself and now Tara had moved out it was plain to see that nobody else was going to look after the orphaned teen. She was just going to have to look after herself.

Seeing Dawn’s anger plainly written on her face, Xander pulled Anya away from the group, calling out that they needed to go to work as they left.

Taking Xander’s cue, Willow made her excuses to deaf ears and made her way up to bed, the magical burnout from the night was kicking in and she had never ever felt this drained in her life. Stretching her hand out and muttering and incantation, she was dismayed when she realised that she didn’t even have enough magical energy left in her body to close the curtains. Getting up slowly and doing it manually, she returned to bed even more tired than she could ever remember being.



-



Standing up slowly, Buffy winced as her skin stretched, the soreness between her legs coupled with the bandages that Spike had wrapped around the slits on her thighs was almost too much for her body to bear in its current state. She had been contemplating what to eat when everyone had burst in on her.

Dawn watched as her big sister went about getting herself something to eat. Seeing her pull a low fat yoghurt out of the fridge she made a mental note to pick up full fat ones next time they went shopping. Her sister, the one that the world relied on to stop every apocalypse that came their way was looking more and more frail everyday. She was barely eating, and when she was it was something completely useless like low fat yoghurts or rice cakes.

Her idol, her best friend, her big sister was wasting away under her eyes and she had been too busy wondering why no one was taking care of her to worry about Buffy.

Putting the kettle on and preparing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate Dawn sat down waiting for Buffy to talk.

“So?” Dawn prompted, “Where were you last night?”

“I, um. I went patrolling.”

“Right.” Dawn nodded, “Major monster wrestling?”

Gulping, Buffy went along with the story. Anything to keep it her secret. She nodded, saying something about being tired. Seeing Dawn’s face close up in resignation, Buffy took that as a sign that the conversation was over. She knew she should be feeling something. Probably guilt, over the way she was treating her friends and especially her sister, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care. Not after how alive Spike had made her feel.

And now all she felt was dead.

TBC...