On prophets, spirituality, and sparks
Episode 7.2

 
 

Reviewed by Sanguine

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

1 Corinthians 13: 1-3

Spike may not exactly speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but he certainly does seem to have the gift of prophecy in this week's brilliant episode, Beneath You, written by Doug Petrie. In the throws of his prophetic madness he dropped more than one tantalizing hint about the nature of this season's Big Bad. "From beneath you, it devours," a Run, Lola, Run clone intones as she dies in a Frankfurt alleyway. Later, Spike elaborates on her statement. "This is just the beginning, Love. A warm-up act. The real headliner's coming and when that band hits the stage all of this . . . all this will come tumbling and screaming in horror and bloodshed. From beneath you, it devours." He then mumbles, "Poor Rocky." If Spike is right, Buffy's in big, big trouble.

Judging from Spike's knowledge of events to come, it would appear Spike either has a direct line of communication to this season's Big Bad or to The Powers that Be. Talk about an identity crisis! At the best of times, Spike's bad-ass persona was a bit frayed around the edges, a thin veneer put in place as a reaction against the inherent vulnerability of William. But now that construction is crumbling. It would seem William, the vampiric demon, and some other entity, possibly Malevolent Morphy, are all cohabiting within Spike. Also significant is when these different personalities manifest themselves. We don't really see Morphy, although perhaps he's the one feeding Buffy information about the coming badness. William seems to appear when discussing matters of the heart. And the vampiric demon emerges when Spike feels threatened (i.e., the scene in the Bronze--vintage, lewd, crude, evil Spike).

While the complexity of Spike's fractured personality was fascinating (and was brilliantly performed by James, give-this-man-an-Emmy, Marsters) even more interesting were the spiritual aspects of Beneath You. At its heart, Beneath You was about two things: accountability and forgiveness.

First to accountability. The maturation process involves acknowledging past mistakes and learning from them. Making excuses just doesn't cut it. Xander, for one, seems to be learning from past failings. Carefully eschewing all things demonic, he takes a shine to this week's damsel in distress, Nancy. For a few moments it seems as if Xander Harris, the self-proclaimed "dateless nerd" might finally get a break. But alas, the Powers that Be have other ideas. Turns out the seemingly sweet Nancy wished her boyfriend into a worm, courtesy of Anya. Obviously, Xander has some unfinished business with his Ex. It's time to face his demons: literally. And he passes the test with flying colors. He gets angry at Anya, but when she does the right thing, he gives her credit and realises how difficult it must be for her to break the vengeance demon code of conduct. In short, Xander Harris is making actual progress in the compassion department.

The same cannot be said for Anya. Last week we learned that Anya was not doing her vengeance duty. This week, she seems to be making up for lost time, granting vengeance wishes (albeit reluctantly) and demonstrating a lack of remorse for injuring and maiming people (although puppies still get to her). Xander brings her up on this, telling her that while he may have been wrong to leave her at the altar, that didn't mean she had to accept D'Hoffryn's offer to become a vengeance demon. Yet, even though Anya's scoring low on the compassion-meter, at the end of the episode, when Anya chooses to reverse the spell, she dips a toe in the White-Hat waters. She knows she's putting her own existence in potential jeopardy. She knows "it's a bad time to be a good guy." She knows and she still makes the correct decision.

At the beginning of the episode, Willow and Spike are both at a crossroads. They can either continue to hide or they can step up to the bat. In England, Willow prepares to leave, but is frightened that her friends won't accept her back. In Sunnydale, Spike, still plagued by inner and outer demons, tells his invisible advisor that "now is not the time . . . making them understand." He obviously knows something, but is frightened to leave his basement, frightened to move out of the shadows. Frightened, perhaps, of being rejected . . . again. Both Spike and Willow did horrible things. He tried to rape the woman he loves and Willow tried to end the world. But both realise that actions speak louder than words. So Willow leaves England and Spike dons his "costume" and leaves the basement. As Spike points out, he can't say, "forgive me." He can't say, "sorry." And he's not helping as part of some attempt to atone for past sins or to resume his relationship with Buffy. He has changed. As we learn in tonight's episode, he purposefully sought a soul so he could be the kind of man Buffy deserves. As he says, "Why does a man do what he mustn't? For her. To be hers. To be the kind of man who would nev-[rape her?]" Amazingly enough, Spike transcended the rules. He comprehended his own sin, even without a soul. He did what he mustn't. He strove to understand morality because his love for Buffy was more powerful than the evil inside of him.

As her interaction with Spike in Beneath You made clear, Buffy was not a blameless participant in the destructive horrible mess that was their relationship. Whether or not she will take responsibility for her actions towards him remains to be seen. She still is ashamed of him, still hiding the role he plays in her life from her sister, from Xander.

While she was involved with Spike, she treated him like a dirty secret--like an object that only existed for her own pleasure. She was incapable of understanding how a soulless creature could feel genuine love for her and thus could not comprehend how her actions were affecting Spike. In one of the most moving sequences ever filmed on BTVS (or any television show, for that matter) Buffy follows Spike into a church. It's time for her to learn the truth, for her to really "see" Spike.

When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a glass darkly, but now face to face.

It's time for Buffy put aside her childish notions of good and evil. It's time for her to stop looking through that glass darkly, and come face to face with the consequences of her actions.

A broken man, Spike has ripped his "costume" from his body. Completely vulnerable, without defense, without sanity, he stands before her. Self-inflicted wounds mark his chest: the marks of guilt, despair, self-loathing, frustration. Buffy reaches out to touch him: one of the few gestures of compassion, of true caring she has ever made towards Spike. And Spike, completely unfamiliar with such treatment, recoils. The touch is too intimate. "No touching," he admonishes her. In a speech that echoes Shylock's soliloquy in The Merchant of Venice ("If you prick me, do I not bleed?"), Spike wonders, "Am I flesh to you?" In other words, am I real to you, a creature worthy of consideration, or am I just an automaton? All last season, he was all too willing to be that automaton. He was willing to be used, to "service the girl." Even if that servicing was ultimately meaningless, hollow, without "spark." And, as we learn, Spike's quest for that all-important "spark," his quest to become a "real boy" has led to self-abnegation. He was willing to give up everything he had been, the limitless power without restraint, on the slim hope that for the first time in his existence, he might "fit." He might be accepted. He might be forgiven.

If I give away all I have and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Forgiveness. It's not something that one can easily give to the man who attempted to rape you. Forgiveness. It's not something that one can easily grant to the friend who tried to kill you--who tried to wipe out life on earth. Forgiveness. It's not something one can easily find for the woman who scorned you.

And yet the soulless vampire found forgiveness somewhere between Sunnydale and Africa, somewhere between his raging against the "bitch" who made him weak and his request to give her what she deserved. Was it part of some larger plan? Did the Powers that Be (or, in Spike's mind, God) give Spike the grace to forgive, to see past his own pain and hurt? To get the one thing he thought Buffy wanted, that he thinks God wanted him to have?

Forgiveness. Elusive, unpredictable. Hopefully someday Buffy will find the grace to grant it. In the meantime, Spike will crucify himself, a burnt offering at her altar.
 
 

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