She'll Tell You

*****She'll Tell You*****

Spike paces. Back and forth, over and over. His hand rushes through his short blond hair, the curls going every which way. Mixed in with the words that race headlong through his brain are the words of the girl. He can hear them, soft and sweet, slipping in between cries of pain and hate in his addled mind.

"She’ll tell you. Someday she’ll tell you."

He stops pacing. The words repeat in his head, an endless loop. His grasp of logic and reason are weak, torn apart by months of time alone with the voices. Must take it slow.

She’ll.

There is only one she. Spike knows only one. Yes, he knows other women. There’s Red and the Bit and the Demon...but there is just one She. Buffy. She’ll. She will. Will. Not might, could, should...will. Meaning it is a fact. Fate. The girl didn’t say it to him like she thought this. She said it like she knew it. Like she’d seen it. Matter of fact, really. Spike laughs shortly. She looked right at him and said it. Didn’t have to say it. Could have just thought it. Maybe she was grateful he untied her? Lied to him? No no no. Spike resumes pacing. Girl didn’t lie. Girl was nice. Didn’t want her to get hurt. Had to help her. Her and her. Both of them.

Tell.

She’ll tell. Tell a secret, tell a lie? Tell the truth? Tell tell tell. Spike flops on the floor, knees pulled up. Telling from Buffy. Could hurt. Buffy often tells what he doesn’t want her to tell. Can’t make the words stop. She pours them on like salt over so many wounds. He flinches. Not the way the girl said it, though. Eyes were soft on him. She’ll tell. Something nice. Eyes were kind, merciful. He didn’t deserve that. Couldn’t be right.

You.

You. Means William. Spike. William. Don’t know. How will she know who to talk to? Who will she ask for at the door? Who will come out to play? Spike clutches at his hair and pulls. Can’t let Buffy tell him anything. Won’t let. Won’t help. But. No. But maybe. No no no. Could be good. NO! Buffy will not tell him a good thing. Never tells him a good thing. Bad man. So why did the girl look at him kindly? Pity? Was it pity? Spike leaps to his feet again, pacing faster than ever around the room, arms wrapped tight around his chest.

Someday.

Oh god, when is someday? Spike knows the seven days and it is not one of them. Is not tomorrow or yesterday or today. It is later, not now, another time. Is it soon? Is it years? Is it too late? Before the devouring? Before the teeth sink into his leg and drag him down down down? When?

She’ll Tell You.

She said it twice. Twice. Two times means it’s true? She put meaning in it, said it twice to make sure he heard. He heard. Spike stops, back against a wall, head leaning to just touch the dirty surface.

"She’ll tell you. Someday she’ll tell you." He lets the words wash over him like rainwater, like gentle waves at low tide. Soothing, a low murmur. Pushing away the other words, making the other voices into humming, whispers. He doesn’t dare to think it. The thing she will tell him. He wants to think it, but he knows the voices will mock him. Mock his nerve at daring to think it. He puts his hands up to cover his face, hiding the thoughts on it. Girl looked at him when she said it. She looked right through him. Knows what he wants to be told by Buffy. Pulled that out of him without effort. It is written across his forehead in marker. And she said he will be told. That She Will Tell him. Maybe he could just whisper it. Voices and the It and the Other maybe won’t hear it. Won’t hear him breathe out a wish, a dream. The words that would be a balm over his tortured soul.

She will tell him. Tell him someday, that...

"She loves me."



*********************** Author’s Note: My reaction to watching Help. I was so hopeful when Cassie said this that I couldn’t help but throw something on paper that night. I did no editing to this, so it‘s pretty raw. Hope it is interesting! -Ti