*****

*You tried to rape Buffy*

/It's a thin line between love and hate./

*You tried to *rape* her.*

/It's a thin line between love and hate./

*My... the first woman I loved, ever. Why, Spike? Did it make you feel good, to take something that had been mine? Did using her fill some void, make up for Dru's defection? Is that what you were doing? Replacing Dru?*

/It's five o'clock in the morning and you're just getting in,
A knock upon a door, a voice sweet and low says.
(Who is it ?)
She opens up the door and she lets you in.
Never once does she say, where have you been?/

*She came here to tell me, to tell me about you and her. Buffy stood there in my office and *told* me that she'd slept with you. Willingly let you touch her. That you were in love with her. I doubted that, but she insisted. Maybe you do love her; you certainly convinced her of that. It's irrelevant, though. The fact remains that you tried to force yourself on her. That was unacceptable.*

/She says hold it, are you hungry, did you eat yet?
Let me hang up your coat now.
And all the time she's smiling, never raises her voice,
It's five o'clock in the morning and you don't give it a second thought./

*But you know what, Spike? That's not the part that has me up here tonight, trying to find stars in a muddy sky. See, it wasn't what Buffy said about your destructive relationship that sent me running. No, it was what she said after. The *real* reason she found her way to Los Angeles.*

/It's a thin line between love and hate./

*You have a soul.*

/It's a thin line between love and hate./

*She said she saw it, she knew it. That Anya, a demon again, saw it too, and there was no way you could fool Anyanka. She's got this thing about demons. No, Buffy didn't come to Los Angeles to tell me you assaulted her, didn't find me to ask me to hunt you down and stake you. No, Buffy showed up here because she was *worried* about you.*

/The sweetest woman in the world could be the meanest woman in the world,
You can make her be that way.
She might be holding something in
That's really gonna hurt you one of these fine days./

*Why? Because according to Buffy you've lost what little mind you ever had. The last time she saw you, you weren't looking so good; gaunt, wild-eyed and ranting about voices. Reminds me of Dru. Much to her relief, though, you seem to have decided to leave her alone. That's good. Keep doing that, Spike.*

/There you are in the hospital, bandaged from foot to head.
In a state of shock - that much from being dead.
You didn't think your woman could do something like that to you.
Didn't think she'd got the nerve, accidents speak louder than words.
Louder than words, louder than words, louder than words./

*You disappeared. That worried her, Spike. She came to me to tell me you'd left Sunnydale. You'd been helping her with some sort of demon and then you were just gone. Buffy, a Slayer by destiny, worried enough about the disappearance of a vampire to tell his Sire. I guess maybe you did care about her, at least enough to register in her mind as an actual person. Still, I don't think she likes you very much. I don't blame her.*

*Why, Spike? Why did you do this? All of this? You know what Buffy means to me, what she stands for. Yes, I've moved on, and so has she. That doesn't change it, though. And the soul. I know I hurt you when I got cursed, leaving you like that. Gods know, it hurt me, to crawl away, knowing I'd never touch you again. My sweetest William. But a soul? Spike, these souls, they pull and tear at your mind. I was mad so long when I first had mine back. Why did you do this to yourself? Why did you do this to me?*

/Come on baby, baby, you don't give a damn about me./

*If you come here... I can't stake you, you know. I never could; if I'd been able to do that you'd have been dust decades ago. I've been telling myself all these years that as long as you didn't do anything monumentally bad, I could safely ignore it, and you. This one is close, though. What am I supposed to do, Spike? Forget that you tried to rape her? Hope that you don't show up and decide to try for Cordelia?*

/Come on baby, baby, you don't give a damn about me./

*They mean so much to me, Spike. I... They love me, and I love them. Please, just... I can't do this, Spike. Choose, that is. Do I condemn you, renounce you? Do I forget it, wipe the slate clean?*

*What would you have me do, Spike?*

--A Thin Line Between Love and Hate

*****
Track 2

*Damn you, Spike. Just... damn you. I thought I'd moved on, forgotten. But no, you had to shove yourself back into my life. Like some sort of niggling doubt, a black raincloud that won't go away. I love her. I LOVE HER. Cordelia is... light and beautiful and she makes me look at heaven and know that there's something worth fighting for.*

/Why don't you ask him if he's going to stay?/

*She is my future. The one, the one who will keep me sane when it gets to be more than I can stand. A rock, a perfect, precious gem. She never tries to hurt me, never takes out her anger in blood and fists. Never uses deception and cunning to make me want her.*

*I remember when you were like that.*

/Why don't you ask him if he's going away?/

*I thought that maybe you leaving, fleeing Sunnydale, would take it away. Take away this heavy, leaden feeling at the base of my heart. You'd be gone for good. Out of reach, out of sight, out of mind. Gone off to get yourself quietly dusted. Why can't it be that easy?*

/Why don't you tell me what's going on?/

*Instead, I see you in my dreams. The way you used to be, young and eager and bloody... Wanting me because you could, because of how I made you feel. You didn't care then about power or glory. For all I know, you still don't. We aren't on speaking terms, remember? But I'm supposed to be seeing Cordelia, moaning Cordelia's name when my body does things a corpse shouldn't be able to do.*

/Why don't you tell me who's on the phone?/

*I should be disgusted by you, by what you've done and who you are. I should want to kill you, hunt you down, feast on your misery. But I don't, and that hurts even worse than knowing what you did.*

/Why don't you ask him what's going on?/

*Every time I try to think about her, I go back to you. You have a soul now. What does that mean? Are you like me? Can we... I know we are the past. But still, this gives me an unrealistic hope, a hope I don't want to feel. What we had is gone, dead by our own hands. This soul of yours should not be able to resurrect it.*

/Why don't you ask him who's the latest on his throne?/

*I don't care what you do out there, Spike. Kill, be killed. No, don't be killed. Just, stay away. Please. Maybe one day soon I'll be able to tell Cordelia about how her magickal friend anchored my soul, that I can take her to bed without losing myself.*

/Don't say that you love me!/

*Someday I'll be able to want to lose that last bit of innocence, of chastity, with her and not you. I'll want to give her that moment of complete happiness and not you. I'll want to bed her and not you. Love her and not you.*

/Just tell me that you want me!/

*I love Cordelia.*

*But I love you more, Spike, and it's killing me.*

*****
Track 3

*The roof of the hotel was getting crowded, what with me, you, Cordelia and Buffy all up there together. No one but me is here, though, standing on top of the cathedral, watching the nighthawks dive for insects. You'd hate it up here, amidst all the crosses and the fragrant holiness. It's not comfortable for me either, but I manage. It reminds me of you, of all things. Pure, even when everyone inside is trying so very hard to be dirty.*

/Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war.
Returned to their hotel suite,
And they unlocked the door.
Easily losing their evening clothes,
They danced by the light of the moon.
To the Penguins, the Moonglows,
The Orioles, and The Five Satins.
The deep forbidden music
They'd been longing for.
Rene and Georgette Magritte,
With their dog after the war./

*Ah, Spike, I can still feel you. The way you used to trace my lips with your fingers, daring me to bite them. I always would, and then you'd pout. I, of course, would have to kiss away that moue. And you were never content with one kiss, and soon we were a tangle of skin and cries to heaven. When it was over, you'd lick your fingers and grin. And so would I.*

*I never minded those games.*

/Rene and Georgette Magritte,
With their dog after the war.
Were strolling down Christopher Street,
When they stopped in a men's store.
With all of the mannequins dressed in the style,
That brought tears to their immigrant eyes.
Just like The Penguins, the Moonglows,
The Orioles, and The Five Satins.
The easy stream of laughter
Flowing through the air.
Rene and Georgette Magritte,
With their dog apres la guerre./

*Then there were the times you'd help me with Dru, holding the knives while I ripped her open. You never really understood the attraction; oh, pain you knew well and cherished, but the mindless agony she preferred? I honestly think it disgusted you. It didn't bother me, but then I was a monster. Looking back, I often wonder if you lost all of your soul when I turned you. Every so often I saw a glimmer, some unearthly light in your eyes as you hesitated, paused before killing. It was like you knew, *knew* it was wrong in the way that humans know killing is wrong. I hope I'm not right, though, and that you never suffered, even for an instant. All the gods know how much you're suffering now.*

/Side by side,
They fell asleep.
Decades gliding by like Indians;
Time is cheap.
When they wake up they will find
All their personal belongings
Have intertwined./

*We were inseparable, you and I. That is, until the curse. What we had was strong, but not that strong. I could not stand the blood on your hands and you could not abide my pathetic existence. But I never stopped loving you. In Sunnydale, the hardest thing I ever did was to deny you. I was your Yoda. Yes, I've seen that movie. But it was best for both of us. You would have never stayed with me and my soul, and I would have sought to change you so that I could stand to be near you.*

/Oh Rene and Georgette Magritte,
With their dog after the war.
Were dining with the power elite,
And they looked in their bedroom drawer.
And what do you think
They have hidden away
In the cabinet cold of their hearts?
The Penguins, the Moonglows,
The Orioles, and The Five Satins.
For now and ever after,
As it was before.
Rene and Georgette Magritte,
With their dog after the war./

*I wish I could stay angry with you, Spike. I know I'm supposed to. Just like I'm supposed to stay in love with Cordelia. Or Buffy, for that matter. But I can't hold you in contempt. Each time I try to push you into the corner of my mind that houses Darla and the Master and Penn, I see those innocent blue eyes, asking me what you've done wrong. Wondering how to make it right.*

*And I get lost all over again.*

--Rene and Georgette Magritte With Theirr Dog After the War, Paul Simon

*****
Track 4

*If you were here right now, Spike, we'd be in bed. As it stands, you're somewhere else, running away from everything. Me, I'm in Los Angeles, trying not to lie to Cordelia. I hate to sleep in my bed now; silk sheets remind me of your body. Midday, when sleep is heavy in your mouth, I would think about you. Silk skin, smooth and cool.*

*Who'd have ever thought silk sheets would become my hair shirt?*

/Everything is open,
Nothing is set in stone.
Rivers turn to oceans,
Oceans tide you home.
Home is where the heart is,
But your heart had to roam.
Drifting over bridges,
Never to return.
Watching bridges burn./

*Where are you tonight? Somewhere with bright lights, with imitation suns shining down like a thousand beeswax candles? Or perhaps a place that's cold, even in the heat of summer. Millions of people who work hard to not see you. Where did you run to, Spike?*

/You're driftwood floating underwater,
Breaking into pieces, pieces, pieces.
Just driftwood, hollow and of no use;
Waterfalls will find you, bind you, grind you./

*How far did you run? San Diego? That's not far; I can be there before the sun rises. Las Vegas? I can see you there, managing to find a shadow to skulk in despite all the neon. New York? Cliche, but anonymous.*

/Nobody is an island,
Everyone had to go.
Pillars turn to butter,
Butterflying low.
Low is where your heart is,
But your heart has to grow.
Drifting under bridges,
Never with the flow./

*Or have you found someone new? Another to soothe the ache in your newly returned soul? Are you alone, Spike? You used to hate being alone. Remember when Darla took Dru and I into the city, leaving you behind? When we returned, you'd adopted a cat. Named it and everything. Dru tortured it, of course. You didn't cry.*

*Even then you were stronger than me.*

/And you really didn't think it would happen,
But it really is the end of the line.
So I'm sorry that you've turned to driftwood,
But you've been drifting for a long, long time./

*I hope you find peace, wherever it is you're traveling to. Or that at the very least no harm comes to you. You might hate me now, but I can't wish you any ill will. Our paths diverged long ago.*

/Everywhere there's trouble,
Nowhere's safe to go.
Pushes turn to shovels,
Shoveling the snow.
Frozen you have chosen,
The path you wish to go.
Drifting now forever,
And forever more,
Until you reach your shore./

*Dammit, Spike, where are you? This is the first time I've ever not known where you were. I've kept up with your location for more than a hundred years. I had to know, had to be sure you were still... I need to know, Spike. This ache, this dull knife in my heart, it won't go away until I know you're safe.*

*You know you can come here, don't you? I will always welcome you. This is your home. I am your home.*

--Driftwood, Travis

*****
Track 5

*Toronto.*

*You sent me a postcard.*

*From Toronto. In Canada. It's quite lovely, with a very tasteful, artistic picture on the front. The sort of thing I would admire if I saw it in a storefront rack. Not what I would've expected you to pick.*

/Adia I do believe I failed you,
Adia I know I let you down.
Don't you know I tried so hard
to love you in my way;
it's easy let it go.../

*I'm lost, Spike. I don't know what to think. There, on the back of that card, you wrote me. You were always far better at prose than poetry, though you never realized it. These words are no different than those you wrote me a century ago; honed on a whetstone until sharp enough to cleave diamonds.*

/Adia I'm empty since you left me,
trying to find a way to carry on.
I search myself and everyone
to see where we went wrong,
'cause there's no one left to finger
there's no one here to blame.
There's no one left to talk to honey;
and there ain't no one to buy our innocence./

*How did we get to this place, Spike? Where in the hellish miasma of this life did my love for you warp so badly that you see only hate? No, we're no longer lovers. But this, this indictment I hold in my hands... Where is this from? When did I do this to you, this torture and misery?*

/'Cause we are born innocent.
Believe me Adia, we are still innocent.
It's easy, we all falter;
does it matter?/

*How could I ever forget doing such things to you, driving you away? Or is this something inside you, your new soul denying what we once had? Please, Spike. I'm begging you. How can you think that I feel this way?*

/Adia I thought we could make it,
but I know I can't change the way you feel.
I leave you with your misery;
a friend who won't betray.
I pull you from your tower,
I take away your pain,
and show you all the beauty you possess
if you'd only let yourself believe./

*Canada. You're in Canada. Damn it, why couldn't you be closer, where I could reach you? Hells, you're probably not even in Toronto anymore. Call me, write me again, stay where you are and let me come find you. Spike, this isn't right, this isn't what we had, isn't what we were.*

/That we are born innocent.
Believe me Adia, we are still innocent.
It's easy, we all falter;
does it matter?/

*Just hold on, Spike. Please, for my sake, or yours, or someone else's, don't let go. This isn't us.*

--Adia, Sarah McLachlan

*****
Track 6

*You sent another postcard. I had to wrestle it away from Fred. She's too curious, to observant, too... upset with me that Cordelia and I aren't going to work out. The postcard. I can see why you like it there, in the wilds of nowhere. It looks harsh from the picture.*

/Mine, immaculate dream made breath and skin,
I've been waiting for you.
Signed, with a home tattoo,
Happy birthday to you was created for you./

*You want your heart back. I didn't realize it was mine to begin with. I suppose that's just one more way in which I failed you. We loved, yes, but I never knew... And now you want it back.*

/Can't ever keep from falling apart
At the seams.
Cannot believe you're taking my heart
To pieces./

*You want to kill yourself. This... you cannot do this, Spike. It isn't right. I won't just sit by and let you. Do you hear me, out there in the middle of godforsaken Canada? You WILL NOT kill yourself!*

/Oh, it'll take a little time,
might take a little crime
to come undone now.
We'll try to stay blind
to the hope and fear outside.
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind
And blow me in to cry,
Who do you need, who do you love
When you come undone?/

*Gods, Spike, why are you doing this? To yourself, to me? What is driving this black despair? You write that even my hate is better than what you have now. Spike, you have me even when you cast me aside.*

/Words, playing me d�j� vu;
Like a radio tune I swear I've heard before.
Chill, is it something real?
Or the magic I'm feeding off your fingers./

*Please, please come back from that place where you are. It's killing you, it has to be. Wild and unclaimed and calling to you. I know you, Spike. I know why you keep to cities. They distract you; draw you away from her, from this world who would swallow you whole. Do you remember all those times, when we traveled, that I held you, fucked you, fed from you, just to keep you focused on *me* and not on the endless expanse of it?*

/Can't ever keep from falling apart
At the seams.
Cannot believe you're taking my heart
To pieces.
Lost, in a snow filled sky, we'll make it alright
To come undone./

*Come home, Spike. There is space enough here for both of us. I can even leave you alone if you want. If my presence offends you, I can disappear. But I can't stand it like this, with you hurting and not understanding and thinking that I feel that way about you.*

*If you hate me now, fine. But hate me here.*

--Come Undone, Duran Duran

*****
Track 7

*Where are you now, Spike? I've been waiting for another postcard, for some sign that you're not dust caking on the bottom of a stranger's shoes. Did you find a warm place to stay? Are you still in Canada, playing mumblety-peg with your soul?*

/Shouldn't have got so loaded;
I damn near exploded.
Oh Lord, you know I should've known it./

*They're all leaving me alone now. Gunn, Fred and Cordelia. I hate to have disappointed them, or worse to make them worry, but I can't talk about you with them. They wouldn't, couldn't, understand. That if you were here we'd be together, that they wouldn't be allowed to even look at you without my permission. I don't even want to imagine what they'd say.*

/Whatever the price is, whatever the crisis,
oh please don't leave me to my own devices./

*I'm lonely, Spike. I've been alone before, but I feel it now. I did when I came here to escape Buffy, but this is worse. Worse, I guess, because it's you. You're closer to me than anyone else ever has been. My blood flows in your veins and yours in mine. I've crawled inside you and never quite left, have invited you into myself and kept you there. But now, now I can't feel you there, wrapping your fingers around my heart and my cock.*

/She was a pretty good waitress,
said she waited on Elvis.
Said she talks too much./

*And I'm afraid, Spike. I fear that you'll end your life before I see you again, that you'll continue to believe that I don't love you. For years now, the only thing we could count on was each other. Even if all we had was distrust and sorrow, we were constant. Dru wandered away, Buffy... was a mistake. But we've always been there. Even when we thought that the other wasn't, we were. I know that now and I wish you did too.*

/Save it up for a rainy day;
it just rained yesterday./

*Send another postcard soon, Spike. I'm dying here.*

/Whatever the price is, whatever the crisis,
oh please don't leave me to my own devices./

--To My Own Devices, Soul Asylum

*****
Track 8

*Mountains. Tall, brutal mountains. You've written me again.*

/You say you want
diamonds on a ring of gold.
You say you want
your story to remain untold./

*My excitement at hearing from you again was impervious to Fred's glare, Gunn's snort and Cordelia's pained grimace. Only the words I read on back tempered my joy.*

/But all the promises we make
from the cradle to the grave;
when all I want is you./

*You want me to kill you.*

/You say you'll give me
a highway with no one on it,
treasure just to look upon it;
All the riches in the night./

*Now your lovely postcard is warped and dimpled with tears. But you used waterproof ink. For that I am grateful. I can't read it, though, because my hands are shaking.*

/You say you'll give me
eyes in a moon of blindness,
a river in a time of dryness,
a harbour in the tempest./

*But you're coming here. You said so, and you've got no reason to lie about it. True, you only want resolution, closure. Death. But you'll be here. And when I get my hands on you...*

/You say you want
your love to work out right;
to last with me through the night./

*I'm never letting you go. Not again, no matter how much you rant and rage and beg and cry. Your place is at my side. Mine. I cannot protect you when you're out there, amongst the sheep in wolves' clothing.*

/You say you want
diamonds on a ring of gold,
your story to remain untold,
your love not to grow cold./

*You didn't mention when you were coming, only that you were. I hope it's soon. Tonight is unlikely, but tomorrow? The next night? How long before we're together, before you can start healing?*

/All the promises we break,
from the cradle to the grave;
when all I want is you./

*I'm waiting.*

--All I Want Is You, U2

*****
Track 9

*I've prepared for you. The hotel has never been cleaner. I've never had so much human blood in it, either. The others think I've gone mad. Again. When you arrive, I'm giving them the night off. Maybe the week.*

/You consider me the young apprentice;
caught between the Scylla and Charybdis.
Hypnotized by you if I should linger,
staring at that ring around your finger./

*You know, I'm actually glad you're not here right now. If you were, you'd mock me. Laugh at my foolishness, my... but I don't care. Sneer all you want, Spike. I know how to change your expression.*

/I have only come here seeking knowledge,
things they would not teach me of in college.
I can see the destiny you sold,
turned into that shining band of gold./

*I hope that you are able to recover here, to find yourself amidst the noise and pain that is your soul. That you can find a way back, back to somewhere you recognize. I hope you can escape this madness that has settled in.*

/Mephistopheles is not your name,
but I know what you're up to just the same.
I will listen hard to your tuition,
and you will see it come to its fruition./

*I think the city knows something's coming. It's quiet, still and tense, like a hundred thousand women holding their breaths, watching a champagne flute flutter to the dance floor. Time is slowing, Spike. Stretching out. Becoming liquid. The only thing moving normally is my mind, which is screaming for the world to get moving already.*

/Devil on the deep blue sea behind me;
vanish in the air you'll never find me.
I will turn your face to alabaster,
when you find your servant is your master./

*I looked up in an atlas how far it was from the Canadian Rockies to here. I guessed your location from the postcard.*

/I'll be wrapped around your finger.
And you'll be wrapped around my finger./

*You'll be here tomorrow.*

--Wrapped Around Your Finger, The Policee

*****
Track 10

*Tonight. Before the sun rises, you'll be here. At my side. With me.*

*In my hands.*

/Well I hope that I don't fall in love with you.
'Cause falling in love just makes me blue.
Well the music plays and you display your heart for me to see;
I had a beer and now I hear you calling out for me.
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you./

*The hotel is empty, still, waiting. It wants to be filled, be it with the ululating wail of madness or the desperate cries of lust. It is waiting.*

*So am I.*

*It watches over me like an indulgent parent, smiling knowingly as I pace this rooftop. I'm watching for your car. It is rather...distinctive, you know.*

/Well the room is crowded, people everywhere.
And I wonder, should I offer you a chair?
Well if you sit down with this old clown, take that frown and break it,
before the evening's gone away, I think that we could make it.
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you./

*I'm nervous. What do I do when you arrive? Do I greet you formally, as a Sire should a childe? Or should I wait for you to tell me why you're here, even though we both know why? What I want to do is take hold of you, put you in your place, and never let you leave again.*

*In my bed.*

/Well the night does funny things inside a man,
these old tom-cat feelings you don't understand.
Well I turn around to look at you, you light a cigarette,
I wish I had the guts to bum one, but we've never met.
And I hope that I don't fall in love with you./

*So I remind myself that you're suffering. That you're sick. Blood won't stay down; that means you're weak. We have to take care of that first. Maybe then, when you're stronger, we can get into the difficult parts.*

*You love me still.*

/I can see that you are lonesome just like me, and it being late,
you'd like some company.
Well I turn around to look at you, and you look back at me,
the guy you're with has up and split, the chair next to you's free.
And I hope that you don't fall in love with me./

*We've changed, both of us. I want to believe that we can still find in each other, and ourselves, something good and solid. I know it can't be what we had before, not exactly. I no longer desire to be covered in the blood of children. I doubt you do either. But the knowing, the closeness, the silent speaking and still dancing and... that, that is what we can have again.*

*If you want it.*

*I'm going downstairs now, to wait in the lobby. I don't want you to show up and me not be there. I will always be here for you. Waiting. Not patiently mind you, but waiting still. Always waiting. For you.*

/Now it's closing time, the music's fading out.
Last call for drinks, I'll have another stout.
Well I turn around to look at you, you're nowhere to be found,
I search the place for your lost face, guess I'll have another round.
And I think that I just fell in love with you./

*And now I hear the door.*

--I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You, Tom Waits

~fin~