Wake Me Up

By Lynne C

She couldn't really remember exactly when she'd heard the song on the radio for the first time. It was probably sometime after she'd used Andrew to shut down, as it turned out, just temporarily, the Seal of Danthazar. But she wasn't certain. The tune was the kind that stuck with you, and she'd hum along with it when it came on. It wasn't until some weeks later that she'd really heard the song for the first time. As in, really listened to the words. She recalled that incident very clearly, as she remembered many moments in those final days of Sunnydale. It had been the day before Faith's return. Or, more specifically, it had been the night that Willow was in Los Angeles. She knew it because she'd wished so desperately that her friend had been there -- not necessarily so that she could truly unburden herself, but she knew that Willow would sense her anguish, and offer sympathy and comfort, even in the absence of a detailed explanation.

She'd locked herself in the bathroom, indulging in some rare and much-needed privacy; a Mr.Bubble oasis in the midst of the three-ring circus that was her home. She'd even lit a couple of candles, though one of them seemed to have burned right down the wick in the first five minutes, and fizzled out. No matter -- the one that remained had symbolized carefree relaxation, indulgent luxury -- a day spa in a votive cup. It even had an earthy fragrance that she couldn't identify, but reminded her a bit of the days when she could afford (courtesy of the bank of Mom) to buy the expensive facial scrubs and body polishes.

She’d turned the radio on, climbed in and proceeded to soak and daydream and generally clear her mind. The water had turned quite tepid, and she was prune-y enough that she was contemplating getting out when it had come on. And because she wasn’t doing anything else that required her attention, the words penetrated. And they so spoke to her emotional state of a year before that she almost couldn’t breathe. Her heart has squished painfully, before beginning to pound against her ribs. She’d sat up, gripping the side of the tub, half ready to fly to the radio and turn it off, but unable to tear herself away from the words that so utterly embodied both her sense of isolation, and the effect of the one person who’d held it at bay.

The song was her affair with Spike in a nutshell.

In the end, she’d sat with her face in her hands, breathing hard as she relived the fragments of those months.

She’d been taken so unawares by her reaction to Spike. She’d not even questioned why she sought him out after her resurrection. But he made her dormant spirit hum, more so with each new level of intimacy that she’d initiated. It was terrifying, not just because it was Spike, but because the contrast was so acute between her utter lack of feeling, and the sudden maelstrom of all of them at once. She’d touch him, kiss him, fuck him – and feel all the anger and sadness and loss, against the backdrop of a passion whose origin and nature she couldn’t even begin to understand. Had she always had a spark of attraction for Spike? Did she have one for all vampires, as part of the mojo that was the basis of the whole slayer package?

He’d once told her that theirs was a dance; and that she was a little bit in love with death. Was that why he electrified her? Was it that her very being cried out to return to the grave, and so drew her closer and closer to the instrument of death to which the slayer was most keenly attuned? Is that why she wasn’t driven to consummate her growing hunger for Spike until she knew that he could harm her if he chose?

Yet, if she was really seeking death at his hand, how ironic was it that it was only in a dead man's bed that she'd really felt alive. Well, more like on his carpets, tables, sarcophagus...up against his wall. hardly ever in his bed. But still....

Then again, Spike had ceased to be like any other vamp a long time before. Though she'd found that he could hurt her, kill her -- hell, even turn her, if he'd wanted, she had believed in her heart that he wouldn't. Of course, she'd also cared just little enough that she had been willing to risk being wrong. She'd certainly provided him every opportunity....

Words from days long past had washed over her -- snatches of conversations she'd tried to forget:

“I can fool Giles, and I can fool my friends, but I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason…”

Wake me up inside

“You can’t love without a soul.”
“Oh, we can you know. We can love quite well. If not wisely.”

Wake me up inside

“Buffy, if you’re in… if you’re in pain… or if you need anything… or if I can do anything for you…”
“…Everything here is… hard, and bright, and violent…”

call my name and save me from the dark

“What’s wrong?! You were gonna help me! You, you were gonna beat heads, and, and , and fix my life!”

bid my blood to run

“This isn’t real/
But I just want to feel…”

before I come undone

“Tell me you love me…”

save me from the nothing I’ve become

“Being with you… makes thing…simpler. For a little while… and it’s killing me.”

without a thought without a voice without a soul
don’t let me die here
there must be something more
bring me to life

She'd said that being with him was killing her. But that hadn't been it at all. Being with him had been the only thing keeping her going ~ her shame in that fact was what had been killing her. It was all just so confusing, really...her feelings then, her feelings now. So different, but still.... She hadn't really realized how much of the previous year she had buried under her newfound desire to get on with this life of hers. Until it all came flooding back, unlocked by the raw words of the song. She'd walked in the shadow of the valley of despair -- and because Spike was her only solace from that suffering, she'd given him reason to hope. Her denial of that hope had provoked Spike's own crisis, from which had stemmed... everything since.

She'd had no idea how long she'd sat there, lost in her reverie, when at last she'd surfaced from it. An irritating commercial for a used car dealership had penetrated the tangle of memory and emotion, and returned her to her bathtub, where she sat with precious few bubbles left around her and her flesh gone goosebump-y. She'd climbed mechanically out of the tub, pulling the stopper lever, and tried to focus on the sound of the water draining, attempting to calm the riot in her breast that was now raging just below the surface.

Her usual grooming rituals had followed then out of habit, the girlish enthusiasm that she'd summoned up an hour or so prior replaced by the sober recollection of how far from herself she'd been.

---

It turned out that Sunnydale and the Hellmouth and Anya and Amanda and Chao-Ahn and Spike had had just seven days left to live. So much had happened in that short span of time, but she'd somehow, improbably, managed to make the most of it, despite the new traumas that seemed to arise daily. She'd certainly gone into that time more aware than ever of how far she'd come in the two years since her death, though that knowledge didn't keep her from wanting to give up when she was rejected by the rest of the girls. But then...

She and Spike hadn't spoken of their dark time. But in those final nights when they'd held and comforted one another, they had found and shared a profound peace, that served to point up how long ago and far away those bleakest of days had receded, for both of them. She was able to see the change for what it was, something akin to a miracle -- particularly in that they had both survived it all to find themselves wrapped chastely in one another's arms in her basement on the eve of yet another "final" battle.

Later, when she'd begun to wrap her head around their victory and the fact that it was due entirely to Spike's sacrifice, she was supremely grateful to the words that had served as a catalyst for her to better understand that bleakest of times in her life. She was grateful...but she couldn't hear those words again. No one else seemed notice that when the song came over the airwaves, she would immediately stop whatever she was doing, and either change the radio station, or have business out of earshot.

But she'd already learned its lesson. And she knew that despite the pain of all of it, she could finally embrace the life that she'd been brought back to, over and over again....

 

~Fin~