Lynch Pin: Season 9 and The Importance of Choice in the Spike Miniseries
Many, many moons ago, someone asked why some fans would have preferred Spike not to get a soul. I and several other people answered. I can't recall if 
elisi was the person who asked the original question or not, but she wrote a long and eloquent essay in response explaining why I was wrong. *g* I didn't respond at the time, since it didn't seem particularly useful to get into a debate over something which is essentially a matter of taste. However, I was googling around for something else the other day, and I happened across the essay, and it sparked some sort-of related thoughts.
The main thrust of the essay seemed to me (and if she is reading this, I beg
elisi to correct me if I'm wrong) to be that without a soul, Spike could not develop further as a character. I don't necessarily agree with this, not just because I don't think that the moral axis is the only one available for character development, but because of the character development or lack thereof that Spike went through after getting a soul. There's a good argument to be made that the TV writers really didn't know what to do with post-soul Spike, other than kill him off in a redemptive blaze of glory. (Twice!) He learns to better deal with the crippling remorse and self-loathing that getting a soul entails. Once on AtS, he also has a very minor arc dealing with his rivalry with Angel, but that's really more about Angel's insecurity and loss of purpose than about Spike. And that's about it.
The major source of post-soul character development for Spike has been not the TV shows, but the much-maligned Brian Lynch comics. In various miniseries, Lynch had Spike tackle his Angel issues; had Spike finally admit to himself that he is not a loner, while at the same time learning something about the trials of leadership when you actually care about the people you're leading to their deaths; and most importantly, tackled head-on the Big Question which the TV show's writers always skated nervously around: What does it really mean that Spike chose his soul rather than having it forced upon him?
There is a fairly large segment of fandom which sees the Spike of mid-to-late S7 as the real souled Spike. Anything which deviates from that template is bad writing or poor characterization on the writer's part, or backsliding and 'regression' on Spike's part, or both. Another segment of fandom is just as unhappy with Spike the lovelorn poet, and just as apt to cry bad writing or bad characterization. All this leads me to believe that when most of us say "character development" what we actually mean is "behaving in a way that I find appealing," and most of us are in fact just fine with a character stagnating, so long as they stagnate in a place that we happen to like. I have written at length elsewhere about the tendency of fandom to reduce Spike to either lovelorn poet or snarky bad boy, when in fact he's both, and neither side is 'out of character.' Instead of dismissing any phase in Spike's development as bad writing, I'd rather fanwank an organic whole if at all possible. (Which is not to say that bad writing doesn't exist, but that it is pointless to call upon it in a Watsonian analysis of a character.)
In any case, many Spuffy fans disliked Lynch's take on Spike, calling it one-dimensional and laddish, so these miniseries have not received much attention. Needless to say, I don't agree with that assessment. There is more than sufficient textual evidence that Lynch is perfectly aware of Spike's romantic side - my favorite is the sequence in which Spike is walking down the street, his inner monologue proudly proclaiming himself a lone wolf, while the artwork shows him glancing wistfully at the happy couples he's passing - even if it didn't play a major part in the story Lynch was telling at the time. It's a shame that Lynch's comics get so little love, because the experiences Spike went through in them lead directly into his current incarnation in S9 in an exceedingly intriguing way.
S9 is where Spike appears to make an absolutely revolutionary leap in character development, pretty much out of nowhere: he tells Buffy flat out what he wants in a relationship, and if she isn't willing to reciprocate, he's willing to walk away and move on (rather than avoiding her, as he was during AtS S5, or obsessing about her, as in BtVS S6). No bullshit about leaving for her own good; he finally admits that if he leaves it will be for his own good. That is HUGE, arguably the biggest change he's gone through since getting his soul.
Why is Spike finally able to do that? It's not simply that he has a soul. He's had a soul for years at this point. All his soul did was make him feel even less worthy of Buffy and more willing to let her define all the terms of their relationship, such as it was. If we limit our reading to Spike's appearances in S8/9, then two brief conversations with Detective Dowling made Spike change his mind about whether or not he should pursue a relationship with Buffy. I submit that while Dowling may have nudged Spike into taking that step, Spike had firm ground to stand on largely because of what happened in the last Lynch-written Spike story, Spike. (Indeed, it's arguable that Spike is willing to enter into a friendship with Dowling at all because of his experiences in even earlier Lynch miniseries, but let's not get into that.)
Originally conceived as a much longer series, Spike was truncated to an eight-issue miniseries when Dark Horse got the rights to the AtS characters back. Lynch had to re-work his original story considerably, both to accommodate the shorter length, and to segue into Spike's entrance into S8. Sadly, the forcibly revised story was a bit of a mess, and the Spuffy/Spike fans who already disliked Lynch's take cut it no slack whatsoever. I'm not going to go into detail about the plot. What I want to examine is an incident that occurs near the climax of the story. To make a long story short, a malevolent wizard steals Spike's soul temporarily. Instead of going evil, Spike tells the villain that he did good things without a soul before, and he's going to do them again now. He proceeds to save the day, defeat the villain, get his soul back, and all that stuff. Rah rah Spike.
A number of fans hated this development. It was decried it loudly on the forums. Anti-Spike fans hated it because it showed Spike doing what Angel has never done, and unlike some previous IDW efforts, this miniseries was intended to tie into S8. It was thus at least marginally canonical. And souled Spike fans hated it for... well, so far as I can tell, the same reason. If Spike was able to do good without a soul, that devalued the soul, and therefore devalued Spike, because him having a soul was the only thing which made him a salvageable character after his attempted rape of Buffy. I think. (Honestly, I didn't and still don't understand a good many of the objections, and I apologize if I'm mis-characterizing them.)
I, on the other hand, love that scene to death. Not just because it is exactly what I, as an old-school soulless redemptionist, have wanted to see in canon since S5. Not just because it deals directly with the difference between Spike and Angel's approach to soul-having, in a way that the TV show was never brave enough to do. But because it was, I now believe, the turning point that allows souled Spike to at long last approach Buffy as an equal.
Consider. Many Spuffy fans felt that Spike could never be Buffy's equal, and thus never a suitable partner for her, unless he had a soul. But in practice, getting a soul made Spike aware that he was a monster, and that very awareness made it impossible for him to believe that Buffy could or would love him. Even with a soul he remains a monster: unworthy, unsalvagable, forever beneath her. Even when Spike takes heart from Buffy's moral support in "Never Leave Me" et al., he does not persevere because he believes in himself, but because Buffy believes in him. This is a subtle but extremely important difference.
Spike does not remain in this state of intense self-loathing forever, but it takes a very long time for him to overcome it. Even in AtS S5 it underlies much of his behavior. Spike is not like Angel; he does not separate himself into man and demon. If he is a monster he is all monster; if the monster cannot be saved, then none of him can. He may not be going to hell today, but he is going to hell, soul and all. His extremely bleak take on both Nina and Dana's predicaments, for example: he sneers at Angel's hope that either of them can be saved, and is doubtful that it's even worth trying. This is as much reflection of his opinion about himself (and Angel) as his opinion about them. (Note that this nihilistic attitude is also something Lynch takes on and brings Spike out of; in "After the Fall," there is a subplot in which Spike does not give up on Illyria after she goes mad, and holds out hope that she can be pulled back from the brink.) His fear and doubt prevents him from going to Buffy, or even telling her he's alive. He has learned to cope with his soul-born self-loathing, but it's still there.
But then, in the comics, Spike loses his soul. And something very interesting happens.
Who is Spike without a soul? Brian Lynch's answer is that he's the guy who chose to go get one in the first place. He's a monster. But he's a monster with choices - a monster who chooses, to the best of his ability, to do the right thing. Having a soul is not the most important thing about Spike. It's not the thing that makes him worthy. A soul does not make you 'good;' your choices make you good. And while a soul may expand your range of choices, it cannot make your choices for you. This is the realization which Spike comes to in his last IDW solo adventure: even without a soul, he can choose. He did choose. He's said that before, to Angel, but now he knows it. He did it before. He can do it again. And he does.
In explicitly claiming that ability to choose to do good as part of his identity even without a soul, Spike is finally in a place where self-hatred no longer rules him. When he shows up again in the main comic, he's no longer content to be Buffy's dark place, the guy who may be in her heart but who has no defined role in her life. And for possibly the first time in his life, he has the inner resources to make that a reality... presuming Buffy is agreeable.
Spike wants a real relationship with someone who loves him back. Is he going to get one? I doubt it, because this is Joss. But for the first time since S5, I actually think that Spike and Buffy might possibly have a shot at making it work. In fanfic, anyway. Because, like I said, this is Joss. And it warms me to the cockles of my cranky old soulless redemptionist heart that the thing which made it possible was not Spike getting a soul, but him losing it.
Thanks, Brian.
~~~***~~~
On another tangent, in reading over
elisi's essay again, I realized that one of the reasons we were talking at cross-purposes was that she wanted to see a story about Spike becoming a good person, and I wanted to see a story which deconstructs what 'good' means. Which is more or less the story I've written myself. Barbverse Spike does some good things, but he is not good as the Buffyverse defines good. And it's precisely because he's not good that I can use him to explore goodness in a way that would be impossible with a character who possesses an innate moral sense in a universe where such things exist. If that's stagnation, well, I find it appealing. *g*
Rants Talk to me
elisi was the person who asked the original question or not, but she wrote a long and eloquent essay in response explaining why I was wrong. *g* I didn't respond at the time, since it didn't seem particularly useful to get into a debate over something which is essentially a matter of taste. However, I was googling around for something else the other day, and I happened across the essay, and it sparked some sort-of related thoughts.
The main thrust of the essay seemed to me (and if she is reading this, I beg
elisi to correct me if I'm wrong) to be that without a soul, Spike could not develop further as a character. I don't necessarily agree with this, not just because I don't think that the moral axis is the only one available for character development, but because of the character development or lack thereof that Spike went through after getting a soul. There's a good argument to be made that the TV writers really didn't know what to do with post-soul Spike, other than kill him off in a redemptive blaze of glory. (Twice!) He learns to better deal with the crippling remorse and self-loathing that getting a soul entails. Once on AtS, he also has a very minor arc dealing with his rivalry with Angel, but that's really more about Angel's insecurity and loss of purpose than about Spike. And that's about it.
The major source of post-soul character development for Spike has been not the TV shows, but the much-maligned Brian Lynch comics. In various miniseries, Lynch had Spike tackle his Angel issues; had Spike finally admit to himself that he is not a loner, while at the same time learning something about the trials of leadership when you actually care about the people you're leading to their deaths; and most importantly, tackled head-on the Big Question which the TV show's writers always skated nervously around: What does it really mean that Spike chose his soul rather than having it forced upon him?
There is a fairly large segment of fandom which sees the Spike of mid-to-late S7 as the real souled Spike. Anything which deviates from that template is bad writing or poor characterization on the writer's part, or backsliding and 'regression' on Spike's part, or both. Another segment of fandom is just as unhappy with Spike the lovelorn poet, and just as apt to cry bad writing or bad characterization. All this leads me to believe that when most of us say "character development" what we actually mean is "behaving in a way that I find appealing," and most of us are in fact just fine with a character stagnating, so long as they stagnate in a place that we happen to like. I have written at length elsewhere about the tendency of fandom to reduce Spike to either lovelorn poet or snarky bad boy, when in fact he's both, and neither side is 'out of character.' Instead of dismissing any phase in Spike's development as bad writing, I'd rather fanwank an organic whole if at all possible. (Which is not to say that bad writing doesn't exist, but that it is pointless to call upon it in a Watsonian analysis of a character.)
In any case, many Spuffy fans disliked Lynch's take on Spike, calling it one-dimensional and laddish, so these miniseries have not received much attention. Needless to say, I don't agree with that assessment. There is more than sufficient textual evidence that Lynch is perfectly aware of Spike's romantic side - my favorite is the sequence in which Spike is walking down the street, his inner monologue proudly proclaiming himself a lone wolf, while the artwork shows him glancing wistfully at the happy couples he's passing - even if it didn't play a major part in the story Lynch was telling at the time. It's a shame that Lynch's comics get so little love, because the experiences Spike went through in them lead directly into his current incarnation in S9 in an exceedingly intriguing way.
S9 is where Spike appears to make an absolutely revolutionary leap in character development, pretty much out of nowhere: he tells Buffy flat out what he wants in a relationship, and if she isn't willing to reciprocate, he's willing to walk away and move on (rather than avoiding her, as he was during AtS S5, or obsessing about her, as in BtVS S6). No bullshit about leaving for her own good; he finally admits that if he leaves it will be for his own good. That is HUGE, arguably the biggest change he's gone through since getting his soul.
Why is Spike finally able to do that? It's not simply that he has a soul. He's had a soul for years at this point. All his soul did was make him feel even less worthy of Buffy and more willing to let her define all the terms of their relationship, such as it was. If we limit our reading to Spike's appearances in S8/9, then two brief conversations with Detective Dowling made Spike change his mind about whether or not he should pursue a relationship with Buffy. I submit that while Dowling may have nudged Spike into taking that step, Spike had firm ground to stand on largely because of what happened in the last Lynch-written Spike story, Spike. (Indeed, it's arguable that Spike is willing to enter into a friendship with Dowling at all because of his experiences in even earlier Lynch miniseries, but let's not get into that.)
Originally conceived as a much longer series, Spike was truncated to an eight-issue miniseries when Dark Horse got the rights to the AtS characters back. Lynch had to re-work his original story considerably, both to accommodate the shorter length, and to segue into Spike's entrance into S8. Sadly, the forcibly revised story was a bit of a mess, and the Spuffy/Spike fans who already disliked Lynch's take cut it no slack whatsoever. I'm not going to go into detail about the plot. What I want to examine is an incident that occurs near the climax of the story. To make a long story short, a malevolent wizard steals Spike's soul temporarily. Instead of going evil, Spike tells the villain that he did good things without a soul before, and he's going to do them again now. He proceeds to save the day, defeat the villain, get his soul back, and all that stuff. Rah rah Spike.
A number of fans hated this development. It was decried it loudly on the forums. Anti-Spike fans hated it because it showed Spike doing what Angel has never done, and unlike some previous IDW efforts, this miniseries was intended to tie into S8. It was thus at least marginally canonical. And souled Spike fans hated it for... well, so far as I can tell, the same reason. If Spike was able to do good without a soul, that devalued the soul, and therefore devalued Spike, because him having a soul was the only thing which made him a salvageable character after his attempted rape of Buffy. I think. (Honestly, I didn't and still don't understand a good many of the objections, and I apologize if I'm mis-characterizing them.)
I, on the other hand, love that scene to death. Not just because it is exactly what I, as an old-school soulless redemptionist, have wanted to see in canon since S5. Not just because it deals directly with the difference between Spike and Angel's approach to soul-having, in a way that the TV show was never brave enough to do. But because it was, I now believe, the turning point that allows souled Spike to at long last approach Buffy as an equal.
Consider. Many Spuffy fans felt that Spike could never be Buffy's equal, and thus never a suitable partner for her, unless he had a soul. But in practice, getting a soul made Spike aware that he was a monster, and that very awareness made it impossible for him to believe that Buffy could or would love him. Even with a soul he remains a monster: unworthy, unsalvagable, forever beneath her. Even when Spike takes heart from Buffy's moral support in "Never Leave Me" et al., he does not persevere because he believes in himself, but because Buffy believes in him. This is a subtle but extremely important difference.
Spike does not remain in this state of intense self-loathing forever, but it takes a very long time for him to overcome it. Even in AtS S5 it underlies much of his behavior. Spike is not like Angel; he does not separate himself into man and demon. If he is a monster he is all monster; if the monster cannot be saved, then none of him can. He may not be going to hell today, but he is going to hell, soul and all. His extremely bleak take on both Nina and Dana's predicaments, for example: he sneers at Angel's hope that either of them can be saved, and is doubtful that it's even worth trying. This is as much reflection of his opinion about himself (and Angel) as his opinion about them. (Note that this nihilistic attitude is also something Lynch takes on and brings Spike out of; in "After the Fall," there is a subplot in which Spike does not give up on Illyria after she goes mad, and holds out hope that she can be pulled back from the brink.) His fear and doubt prevents him from going to Buffy, or even telling her he's alive. He has learned to cope with his soul-born self-loathing, but it's still there.
But then, in the comics, Spike loses his soul. And something very interesting happens.
Who is Spike without a soul? Brian Lynch's answer is that he's the guy who chose to go get one in the first place. He's a monster. But he's a monster with choices - a monster who chooses, to the best of his ability, to do the right thing. Having a soul is not the most important thing about Spike. It's not the thing that makes him worthy. A soul does not make you 'good;' your choices make you good. And while a soul may expand your range of choices, it cannot make your choices for you. This is the realization which Spike comes to in his last IDW solo adventure: even without a soul, he can choose. He did choose. He's said that before, to Angel, but now he knows it. He did it before. He can do it again. And he does.
In explicitly claiming that ability to choose to do good as part of his identity even without a soul, Spike is finally in a place where self-hatred no longer rules him. When he shows up again in the main comic, he's no longer content to be Buffy's dark place, the guy who may be in her heart but who has no defined role in her life. And for possibly the first time in his life, he has the inner resources to make that a reality... presuming Buffy is agreeable.
Spike wants a real relationship with someone who loves him back. Is he going to get one? I doubt it, because this is Joss. But for the first time since S5, I actually think that Spike and Buffy might possibly have a shot at making it work. In fanfic, anyway. Because, like I said, this is Joss. And it warms me to the cockles of my cranky old soulless redemptionist heart that the thing which made it possible was not Spike getting a soul, but him losing it.
Thanks, Brian.
~~~***~~~
On another tangent, in reading over
elisi's essay again, I realized that one of the reasons we were talking at cross-purposes was that she wanted to see a story about Spike becoming a good person, and I wanted to see a story which deconstructs what 'good' means. Which is more or less the story I've written myself. Barbverse Spike does some good things, but he is not good as the Buffyverse defines good. And it's precisely because he's not good that I can use him to explore goodness in a way that would be impossible with a character who possesses an innate moral sense in a universe where such things exist. If that's stagnation, well, I find it appealing. *g*
Rants Talk to me