The Man, the Monster and the Myth
Writing Spike
 By
1stRab-id/Rabid/Raeann*
Boy, talk about hubris.  I was so quick to volunteer for this gig it made the bloody room spin.  Truth is, I love Spike!  And not in that 'warm tingle in the nether parts' way either...or to be perfectly honest...not exclusively in that way, at least.  I love Spike because he slips under my skin like an Initiative doctor's hypodermic, wraps himself around me like a SPF 1000 blanket, and whispers in my ear like an illicit lover.  In short, he is easy to write.  But it isn't very helpful to an up-and-coming fanfiction writer for me to say, "Let Spike inhabit you and writing him will be a breeze."  So, the question then becomes, "How?  How do you get inside Spike so he can speak to you?"
And in that respect, I may be able to help.  My advice is simple: watch the show.  I know that seems obvious, and many of you are about to click onto the next lame article by some "self-declared expert" but bear with me for a minute.  I don't mean for you to be a passive observer.  So, maybe it would be better to say, "Study the show."  Study the historic Spike and his evolution.  Try your darndest not to judge what you see as good or bad.  Rewind, freeze-frame, replay the Spike lines and listen for nuance.  Because those nuances (the contradictions, in effect) are the key, in my mind, to writing Spike.
I know this is hard for a lot of people to accept.  They want to write Spike from a single neat perspective.  As you read the majority of fanfiction, you find parts of the whole, a dark knight or a big bad or a fluffy goofball.  And while you may laugh or be chilled or sexually stimulated by the portrayal, somehow, you find it isn't quite as satisfying as the show.  But why?  Sometimes, this is a result of a lack of skill in the writer.   But, far more often, it is because the writer is simply conveying what they love about the character.
It is human nature to form opinions, to have fixed ideas and to like one thing better than another.  But beyond that, we tend to analyze a situation, label it accordingly and move on.  Unfortunately, it is also human nature to avoid being labeled.  We say one thing while meaning another.  We hide our insecurities and weaknesses.  The problem with Spike, an unusual one for a mass media character, is that he is all too human.  And to write him well, you must not only write what you see on the surface but what lies beneath the veneer.  You must write, not only what you love, but also what you loathe.
Let's look at Fool For Love, because I know, if you have read this far, you most likely have it on tape.  The episode is always mentioned on "Best of Buffy" lists.  And the reason might now be plain to you.  It is an episode of contradictions.  The swaggering, pool playing, cigarette smoking, lime sucking, 'Slayer Killer' Spike in the Bronze is contradicted by the eyeglass wearing, poetry writing, hopelessly romantic William.  The former is a visceral monster and the latter is a vulnerable, literate man who was killed by a lunatic in an alleyway while nursing a broken heart.  Later in the episode, the murderous, shotgun toting, "bitch won't need a death wish" Spike is sharply contrasted with Harmony's comment, "You're so sensitive" and the memory of cuckolded Spike, unable to let go of his unswerving devotion to the Slayer. 
Now, let's move on to the freeze-framing part of the equation.  Take the last two minutes or so of Fool For Love and go frame-by-frame.  Once you can move past the sheer beauty of James, try to look at him solely as a vessel for Spike.  Study every change of demeanor, every shift of his body and look for the thoughts and feelings.  Because James is, in that scene, what you, as a writer, are hoping to be: the conduit for the character.  Spike is under his skin.  It is okay to have no dialogue here because you are now looking for the descriptive part of your character portrayal.  In other words, "what lies beneath the spoken words."
Ask yourself, "Does Spike intend to shoot Buffy?"  Freeze the image and frame-advance it, slowly.  Note how Spike moves.  He strides out of the dark, gun hanging loosely in his hands.  As he cocks the weapon, the answer is there on your screen.  Yes, he intends to splatter her brains all over the side of the house.  It is the demonic thing to do.  It will free him.  It will feel great.  Even the horrid headache that will haunt him for a week doesn't matter to him.  Well worth it, as far as he is concerned.  There is nothing warm and cuddly about Spike in that moment.  He is the monster, capable of murder or rape or any number of other vile things.
So, why doesn't he do it?  Well...Buffy looks up.  It's as simple and as complex as that.  Her eyes are full of unshed tears just spilling over her lashes.  And you can see her pain twist in Spike's undead heart like a knife.  He is confused, suddenly uncertain.  The Slayer is in pain and every fiber of his being knows he should be happy about it.  It is, after all, what he came for and yet...he isn't happy at all.  Buffy isn't welcoming.  She still treats him as an annoyance rather than an armed and soulless killer.  Yet, watch the awkward confusion transfuse James' body as he lowers the gun and asks, "What's wrong?" 
This is the mythic moment for Spike.  The moment when he becomes the "dark knight" pitting his great love against overwhelming opposition.  The dog-like tilt of the head is especially effective here in conveying the message of an inwardly conflicted predator.  The upper echelon of fanfiction tends to draw on moments such as this because this is the most romantic, idealistic part of the character.  Spike, as the mythic figure, torn by his inner battle to love or kill the Slayer.  But if we watch the rest of the scene, we see Spike move past the simple myth and step up to an even more complex level of characterization. 
Buffy lies to him.  She covers her emotions, but she does so ineptly.  "Nothing" is wrong and, yet, something so obviously is.  Spike, the dark knight, is helpless.  He doesn't know what to say and so he asks, "Is there something I can do?" The blank look in Buffy's eyes says it all.  He cannot defeat or overcome the situation.  There is no room here for heroics.  Watch as James allows the mythic Spike to dissolve into that sense of helplessness. 
Letting William, the overly sensitive, socially awkward man, rise up inside, Spike finds a sense of sympathy for an equally socially-challenged fellow warrior.  It gives him tenderness.  He moves forward, hesitantly.  He sits beside Buffy and shyly pats her shoulder.  Then, he stares into space, mirroring her hopelessness and offering only companionship in her hour of need.  They both sigh, in unison, and we know in our gut that Spike is the man for Buffy.
So, who is Spike? Is he a monster, a man or a mythic figure?  As we study the show, we learn he is all three and when we write him we must try to bear this trinity in mind.  Whenever I write a line or scene for Spike, I envision the character like a triangle, putting one part of his persona on the surface and the other two underneath.  If, for example, I have him sweet and loving, then just beneath the surface, reflected in his thoughts and movements, lurk the monster and a dark knight fighting the beast.  If he is brutal, then underneath he is also a bumbling human being, wrestling with his ineptitude.  And finally, if I write him as a heroic figure, I try never to forget that what he is and what he will become will be built on twin foundations: the fragileness of William and the savageness of Spike.  
*my psuedonyms
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