"I'm not worried about wanting to hear it," Wesley said. "If I didn't want to, I wouldn't ask. I'm more worried about it upsetting you. Talking about it, that is."
Wesley pulled his hand away, putting it back on the wheel where, he told himself firmly, it belonged. "Because, as you just so eloquently put it, it isn't pretty. I can't imagine it's pleasant to talk about, just to satisfy my curiosity."
"I wouldn't be pulling these memories out and dusting them off for fun, no, but I'll talk about anything you want to know about." Spike rubbed his hand on his thigh, the heat from Wesley's touch already fading. "You've heard some of the worst already; the rest is easy."
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike muttered under his breath. He crossed his arms over his chest and drawled, "Go on. I think the loose one will be enough, but I'll be sure and let you know."
Wesley tried not to let his attention to the road wander. "Fine, I hear you when you say that you're willing to talk about it even though it upsets you. Oh, but I'm not meant to acknowledge that it upsets you, am I. That makes it rather difficult."
"No, of course it doesn't," Wesley agreed. "Nothing upsets you -- you're above it all, capable of setting things aside and never feeling anything about them again, because they're ancient history."
"What - do you want me to start crying on your shoulder because I was stuck in a wheelchair while the supposed love of my unlife forgot about me more often than not because she had her daddy back?" Spike asked, clenching his hands on his arms. "Should I start brooding over being used and abused by the woman I loved and doing far worse to her? There's no bleeding point! It happened, it's over, and I can't do a sodding thing about it."
"Right," Spike said quietly, staring without seeing out the side window. He heard Wesley take a few breaths before he spoke again. "I don't know what you want. Things in my past have hurt me more than I can say. I never said they didn't. But I can talk about what happened without picking at the scabs and feeling that pain again."
The silence stretched. Wesley thought that if that was true -- if Spike could talk about things that had hurt him and feel nothing -- then he was a much better man than Wesley was. Not that that should come as any surprise really.
Spike wondered whether in another hundred years he might lose the knack for saying the wrong thing, but he suspected that it was an innate talent that would stay with him until the end. When he couldn't stand to listen to the throbbing of the engine and the steady rhythm of Wesley's breathing any more, he said, "Sorry it's a problem, but I don't see what good it would do to be hurt all over again."
"So you thought I was lying." Spike reminded himself that he shouldn't be surprised that Wesley thought that his assumptions were more valid than what Spike had said.
"I had to learn how to do it, but not having a conscience helped with that." Spike finally turned his head to study Wesley's profile. "And you feel everything, don't you. Sharp as the day it happened."
Spike reached out to caress Wesley's shoulder, well aware of how painful it was to live that way, having done so himself. "That's a hell of a burden," he said softly, his voice full of sympathy.
"I wouldn't call it stupid, but it is bloody painful," Spike said, keeping his hand where it was despite the tension that he could feel in Wesley's body. He didn't know what to offer but understanding, so he admitted, "It's one of the parts of myself I made sure to change when I was turned."
"I don't suppose you could do anything to stop me doing it," Wesley said ruefully, unsure whether he should be grateful or frustrated that Spike refused to agree that it was stupid.
"All I can do is try to take your mind off it." Spike sighed, all too aware that he couldn't make Wesley happy enough for him not to care about the past or the actions and opinions of other people.
Unable to read Spike's sigh as anything other than a sign of frustration with his behavior, Wesley willed himself to relax a bit and offered Spike an apologetic smile. "Then I'm fortunate that you're so good at doing that."
"Believe me, you don't want to have gone through what I have to get this way," Spike said, willing to let the first part of Wesley's statement go for the sake of peace.
"I'm sure you could learn to do it if you set your mind to it. It gets easier with practice," Spike said, but he doubted that Wesley thought that it was worth going to the trouble to make himself happy. "But this is probably one of those topics we're not going to agree on, like the point of guilt."
Perhaps there wasn't enough for them to agree on. "It's not that simple," Wesley said, finding that he couldn't just drop it. "It's not just a matter of... mind over matter."
"Why not?" Spike asked, very interested in how Wesley would answer the question. "I know it's not as easy as just saying the words, but if it doesn't make you happy why not do something about it?"
"Because I can't see how it would be anything but denial," Wesley said. "It wouldn't actually be not caring. It would just be telling yourself that you didn't care." He frowned. "And by 'you' I mean me."
"And you're not going to let any of it go." Spike looked back out at the road ahead of them. He knew how miserable it was to hold onto every painful memory so tightly, and it galled him that he couldn't do anything to help Wesley see things differently.
Fine wasn't good enough for Spike; he wanted Wesley to be happy, to be as free from cares and self-recrimination as was possible while still being, well, Wesley. "Is this part of your guilt thing? Constantly remembering so you won't do it again or some rot like that?" Realizing how his questions might be taken, he added, "I'm not being critical." He grinned a bit sheepishly. "Not much, anyway. I'm just trying to understand."
"Then why not try to think of things differently?" Spike asked, his voice nearly as soft as Wesley's. "Why not tell everyone who hurt you to sod off and get out of your head? Why not give yourself a break and stop beating yourself up over past mistakes? You can't go back and do things different, pet. What's done is done."
"I know." Wesley did, but even though what Spike said did make some sense, he wouldn't know where to begin. "I'd... I'll try. I could use some pointers. And probably a prod with a good sharp stick occasionally -- once every ten minutes ought to do."
"I -- " Wesley shook his head the tiniest bit -- he couldn't say it, wouldn't. Wouldn't ask Spike to remind him that there was another way to see himself, wouldn't ask for that reassurance when he shouldn't need it.
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reality_bends2004-06-16 11:09 pm
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