To Save A Soul, ch. 1-5

To Save A Soul

All This Talk of Soul

         Spike sat alone in his crypt, gathering his nerve. His contemplated course of action was not a question of courage, but of resolve. And resolve he had aplenty. Just as he had been beginning to understand what it was to love someone, Buffy was killed through his carelessness. There had been tears all around and a final pronouncement by her watcher that it was bound to happen and could not be changed. On that count the watcher was wrong.

         A loud creak announced the arrival of his invited guest. For kicks, though, he couldn't help tossing out a verbal challenge. "Hey, haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Giles stepped through the heavy crypt door, followed by the annoying kid Xander. "Eh, what's the chump here for?" Xander looked ready to take offense, but Spike didn't need a confrontation right now. He lowered his voice and relayed in serious tone to the tweed-clad man, "I asked you to come alone."

         Giles adjusted his glasses on his nose imperiously, "Yes, well I'm not such a fool as to disregard my own safety."

         "Yeah, it could have been a trap," chimed in Xander accusingly. "One big dusty, fiendish... oh god this place stinks! Have you ever heard of Lysol?"

         Spike's eyes rolled and he nearly ditched the plan right there. He should have predicted that the watcher would distrust him, and that was even understandable. But only an oncoming headache prevented Spike from slapping the mortal coil out of donut boy. "Look, I've got this blasted chip in my head and all my kind hate me. How in bloody hell am I supposed to threaten anyone? Now I've got a serious job here, so either the spud here goes back to the clubhouse or you can both take a walk."

         There wasn't much risk that they'd both leave. Watchers were insatiably curious creatures. After a few glances around for traps or such, Giles predictably dismissed Xander. Spike might have offered him refreshments, but he didn't want his macabre humor to turn away his guest when he wanted to be taken seriously. So Spike sat on the floor and tucked his knees under his chin. Perhaps the watcher wouldn't be fooled by this pose, but a vampire needed every psychological trick he could muster when trying to appear vulnerable to humans.

         Taking a big gulp of unnecessary air, Spike began, "I don't expect you to believe what I say, but hear me out..."


         Giles sat on a nearby coffin lid. He wondered absently if once again he'd wake up to find out he'd been bonked on the head by some demon or other. But the chip-neutered vampire was sitting on the floor, seemingly harmless as he told his tale. Giles hadn't seen Spike in this mood before, and for the first time he considered that a creature which had lived a hundred years might have something noteworthy to say.

         "...think I'm daft, but Buffy is not exactly dead," Spike was saying. "Don't ask me how, but she has some life force left in her."

         "She's alive?" Giles interrupted, his heart leaping with hope despite his better knowledge.

         The peroxide head nodded, "Yes, but it's not the Buffy you know. It's her, but she's missing a part of herself."

         Giles's expression wrinkled in suspicion, "You mean like a vampire who has lost his soul?" He crossed his arms in disbelief.

         Spike vaulted instantly to his feet, but not for violence. Surprisingly, there was a tortured expression on the pale face. "No, you stupid git. All this talk of soul and you silly humans haven't got a clue as to what they are! You think a vampire is a human who has lost his soul or had it replaced by a demon? Well, news flash, pops - not always so. Sometimes the person's soul is already so much like a demon's that all it takes is removing the conscience. Or sometimes a demon finds the body's memories completely unpalatable and just abandons it, leaving an animated husk."

         "Zombies," Giles guessed involuntarily. They were corpses animated in one of many ways, but completely without rational thought.

         "Revenants," corrected Spike, "The leftovers when a person's will and conscience and preference have fled. The body has life, but it is directed only by memories of cravings. Eventually it devolves into a completely mindless and disgusting beast. It'll gnaw on its own arm, if it's hungry. And it'll kill you once it stops recognizing your bookish face. Do you want to see her like that?"

         The fear was etched behind the eyes of the vampire. Giles had known that Spike thought he loved Buffy, but now he was chilled by the prospect it could actually be true. Spike feared to see Buffy's real body dying slowly. Just as he never ceased making critical remarks about the current Buffy-Bot, because it was a painful reminder of life. So like himself, wandering around but not really alive, Giles thought. "Dear god, are you saying that Buffy is out there right now, living as one of these revenant creatures?"

         Spike turned away dramatically, "Where exactly I'm not sure. But she'll be coming back here soon, and I for one won't see her like that for long. And so I have a favor to ask."

         A suspicion came to Giles, and he still didn't entirely believe Spike, but he held his peace. Meanwhile, the vampire launched into his request.

         "I want you to pick a spot and hide my body. I'm going to go into a deep trance, and I might not wake up for a long time. And you must promise me this: that you will never tell Buffy where I am, that you will protect my secret location at all costs. Don't be fooled by anything she says; hold out, unless Buffy dies again. If that should happen, then I wouldn't really care to live."

         Giles frowned, not sure what to make of this. So he voiced his doubt, "I won't protect you if I can't trust that you're not off doing something sinister. Whether she's alive or dead, you can't turn me against my Slayer."
         Spike walked up to the former librarian and whispered probably the only thing that could have persuaded Giles: "I'm going to bring her back." He paused for a moment of repose and then explained, "It might take a while, but I may know how to restore the rest of her to what is there now. Now either I'll succeed, or the maggots will get a nummy supper. So I'm staking my existence here. All you need to do is protect the chance to save your darling Slayer. You for your reasons, and me for mine. Is it a deal?"

-*-*- -*-*- -*-*-

Advisement of the Price

         Spike looked around his hidden location dubiously. It didn't seem like this was the last place the Slayer would look, but the watcher had picked it. His leather-clad shoulders shrugged, Oh well, at least I'll never be caught dead in here. I'd be dust first.

         As he broke out an ancient text which Drusilla had given him at the turn of the century, Spike felt strangely akin to the human he used to be: pathetic William, foolishly chasing the girl in writing. 100 years later and what have I learned? That it's not pathetic - it's what I want. And this time the girl is worthy of my efforts!

         Chalked symbols of protection, life, and transference lay about him on the floor. Spike tripped over some of the high Latin, but he managed to say the ritual words. Then, after slashing across his palms, he slung drops of blood over all the chalk symbols. It's always got to be blood, he mused. Finally, Spike sat kneeling with his hands over his eyes as he slipped into a solemn trance...


         The dimensional guardian Neplu Sultra looked up from its study of human poetry. It had been chuckling at the nuances in Ogden Nash's work when a subtle alarm indicated that someone was attempting to travel interdimensionally from the human world. Neplu Sultra shifted its awareness and refocused its presence.

         The spectral form of a vampire floated before him. The ghostly shape told the guardian many things about the nature of the demon it represented. Most interesting was its confusion over its own primary name. "You seek to cross from the human world, vampire. Though, know that this is not an allowable journey."

         The words of the guardian hit Spike's mind as meaning, though perhaps not as sound. He felt strange, but of course this mystic trip wouldn't seem like a hike through the woods! Spike's thoughts answered the guardian's challenge: "One human - the Slayer - has left the world unnaturally. I mean to find her. And though it's not a free journey, I do know what price can be paid to take it."

         Neplu Sultra would have raised its eyebrows, if it had any. "It is your decision, vampire. The force that holds your life to the world would be forfeited, because the Slayer (should you find her) would need a living body to return. Though, consider the unnatural being you propose to unleash in the world after your passing. Realize that your chances for success are slim, as the Slayer may even now be safely tucked into a realm unretrievable. Lastly, know that you are not as foolish as your mortal once was, and you need not pursue in his fashion to your ruination."

         All these words stirred up arguments in Spike's mind that he'd already glossed over with his resolve. Just as he determined that his decision hadn't changed, the guardian completed his warning with ritual words: "I have given advisement of the consequences. What say you?"


         One spirit passed through Neplu Sultra's gate into the dimensions beyond the world of human souls. The guardian itself was curious as to how this new tangle might resolve. But the guardian was patient - any souls returning to this world would have to pass through his portals.

         The departing spirit was now completely divorced from the life force which had brought it here from the body. Ritually Neplu Sultra instructed, "I have given advisement of the price. Let it be paid." The life force, which had united the demon spirit of Spike to the mortal body of William, returned to the world to seek its new host.

         His latest job complete, the dimensional guardian returned to his study. It loved the tender nuances and poignant themes it could find in human poetry. Only one human in a thousand wrote in exceptionally expressive manner. But humans, it marvelled, multiply so fast and create so desperately during their miniscule spans. There was so much poetry coming from Earth than Neplu Sultra couldn't read it all. The guardian would be entertained forever, or at least as long as the human race persisted.

-*-*- -*-*- -*-*-

Forces of Darkness Beware

         Darla arose early from her curtained four-post bed. Ahead, her fantastic view of the Los Angeles night sky was blocked by a dancing figure. Clad in a stained while ball gown, there was something vaguely disturbing about the woman's swaying. "Drusilla, what are you doing up here?" Her only current friend still baffled her sometimes, even after 160 years.

         Dru turned but maintained her ghostly movements. "Grandmother dearest, you're awake. Everyone's awake, except my boy has gone to find a funeral."

         As usual when Dru didn't explain herself, Darla assumed she was being prophetic. Dru's boy? That could only be Spike. "Has Spike gotten himself killed, Dru? Pity, such a lovely lad."

         Dru stopped her dance. "Yes, Spike. He's gone away, flying through the skies in search of a Slayer's soul." At this point Darla was ready to believe that Spike wanted to kill whatever girl had succeeded Buffy. But Drusilla's next pouty words cancelled that: "He's gone to bring the Slayer back."

         The beautiful vampire Darla burned inside. Another of mine to be stolen by that Slayer? Not if I can help it! "Get your things, Dru. We're leaving for Sunnydale."

         Her companion's pale face dimmed and sighed, "I'll bring a bird if only my new canary would wake." She wandered back to her own room in the penthouse. Darla stifled a groan at the insanity she put up with.


         Angel awoke, disturbed but unable to remember his dream. Either Spike or Buffy was in trouble. Buffy? but she was dead. Spike? but Angel didn't care about him. A scream from the lobby downstairs interrupted his confusion.

         Cordelia was sprawled across the receptionist's desk, spilled coffee staining the carpet beneath her. Another vision, Angel deduced as he picked her up. Wesley came running out just as Cordy came to. Angel brushed the hair from her face and prompted, "Another bad one?"

         Of course it was a bad one. The headache was certainly intense, because tears leaked from the corners of the young woman's eyes. But Cordelia's eyes widened, and her voice held uncharacteristic fear. "It's Buffy - she's alive, I think. Being attacked by Drusilla. And Darla. And...Giles!"

         "Dear me!" Wesley added, adjusting his tie in surprise. He knew they'd all be surprised if Buffy turned out to be alive. He knew Angel would be upset over anything involving Darla. And he knew it would be impossible for Giles to attack Buffy. Gosh, he knew a lot! "Dear me!" he repeated to himself.

         Angel's guts twisted. If only it were a bad dream, but it came in one of Cordy's visions, he mulled. Though he had grieved, things had actually gotten simpler with Buffy dead. Slayers died young, and he could hope to get over Buffy if she were anything normal. And he couldn't seem to shake Darla, either. Two centuries and counting, on that score.

         "Should I call Giles?" Wesley proposed. He was technically in charge, but he liked to get feedback when it wasn't a moral decision.

         "No!" Angel decided swiftly. "Call Gunn instead." He wiped the tears from Cordelia's cheek. He whispered to her, "Rest your head, Cordy. I'll take care of it."


         Tara walked into The Magic Box, expecting to find most of the scooby gang. Oddly, she found only half. Anya was recounting the register's till, and Willow was closing a leatherbound book in the corner.

         Anya leapt excitedly from behind the counter, nearly dropping her stack of five dollar bills. "Tara, guess what?" she asked, but then immediately launched into answer before the wiccan could guess. "Dawn found Buffy!"

         Willow stood quickly and crossed to greet Tara. A lightness surrounded the thin girl's cheeks for the first time in months, so Tara knew it wasn't a joke. Willow took her hand and explained, "Dawn said she saw Buffy out near the northside cemetery."

         Anya rolled her eyes, "And of course Xander went to go get her. But still, isn't that happy news?"

         "Sure," Tara ventured. "At least, I hope it will be." She cast a cautious glance over to Willow. I know she was contemplating a resurrection spell.

         But Willow caught the look and shook her head. "It wasn't me, I swear," she whispered and flashed her candy-sweet smile.

         Willow's honest cheer infected Tara, who beamed brightly enough to scare all the shadows away. "Hey, should we call Giles?" she wondered aloud.

         "I think we should wait," Willow answered. "Just to make sure first. So we're stuck here waiting until Xander gets back." Willow gave Tara's hand a little squeeze. They headed to a secluded corner of the magic shop while Anya resumed counting her money.


         The door bell dinged, admitting an exuberant Dawn. Willow and Tara stood expectantly, and sure enough Buffy followed her sister through the door. Xander brought up the rear, turning the shop's sign to Closed as he shut the door.

         Tara sensed a sudden joy well up in Willow, who rushed to embrace her best friend of the last four years. Tara herself was besieged by Dawn's hoppity happiness. Anya went around to hug her fiance (and change the shop sign back to Open). Tara noticed that everyone was all smiles and tears, except for Buffy who seemed only distracted in her soiled clothes. A chilling thought crossed Tara's mind.

         "And so we were walking home, and Kayla heard a scuffle over by..." Dawn was still bubbling over with excitement as she related the story of finding Buffy after school. Buffy had been ravaging coffins in the cemetery, staking vampires while they slept or thrusting the awake ones into the afternoon sunlight.

         Tara couldn't take her eyes from Buffy's appearance, though. Not so much her tangled hair or the smudges on her face from fighting, but that she still wore the clothes they'd lain her in at the private funeral. "Why don't I go get her cleaned up?" Tara offered. "Be right back," she said, leading Buffy downstairs by the arm.

         Xander was also bursting to talk. He chimed in, "You shoulda seen her, Will. Going totally on instinct, like she knew where the vamps were hiding out. Taking 'em down like a machine. Not only is she alive, but she's in top form, I tellya. We've got our Buff back - forces of darkness beware!"

         Anya was smiling and nodding as Dawn and Xander competed for turns talking. When finally their tales ended, she asked the question which had been on her mind since the door bell had dinged: "How do you think she came back to us now?" And as usual for Anya, her comment pierced everyone's enthusiasm, and the room fell silent in speculation. Without Xander's arm on her shoulder to restrain her loose tongue, Anya plunged ahead thinking aloud. "I mean, something had to bring her back, right? Otherwise she'd be decaying where we left her. The worms gnawing on the coffin until -"

         "Enough!" Willow hissed. She crossed her arms and drew into herself, expression chilled with imagery and uncertainty. "We've got her back, now - you don't need to get all wormy morbidy!"

         Xander stepped between them to intervene, but just then Tara returned, heading off further argument. "She's down below, changing. And she wanted to stock up with some more weapons." Turning to Willow, she added, "She was pretty dirtied up."

         By the obviousness of her girlfriend's statement, Willow knew there was something she was missing. "What are you saying?"

         Tara opened her mouth to speak, but it wasn't going to come out right. She caught her breath and changed tack. "I just scrubbed her arms and hands, and I can't get all the dirt out. There are splinters under her fingernails... and she doesn't care."

         "Yeah, that makes sense," Xander volunteered in what he hoped would be logic. "She would have had to bust out of the coffin once her heart started again. But where has she been all this time?" This nearly set off another round of rampant speculation.

         But Tara forestalled them all with a sad pronouncement, "No, you don't get it. Something's not quite right, because I feel an imbalance in her aura. I'm saying that she just got out recently. And she came back wrong."

-*-*- -*-*- -*-*-

Angelic Warm Welcomes

         Rid of his worldly senses, Spike's demon soul cruised between the planes of existence. Interdimensional navigation knowledge, unused by the vampire in a century, came to him like deja-vu. Portals passed nearby and often. Most of the spiritual exits led to empty worlds or dimensions incompatible with his own continued existence. He could feel the powerful presences which always guarded the more interesting realms. And because time didn't mean that much outside material universes, Spike had a lot of time for introspection. Strange, to be making this trip again. I organize and evaluate the information in human terms now. I don't remember doing that when I first came to earth from -

         The memory of his native hell dimension caused a shudder in Spike. He sensed that the realm lay not far away, but that it was not home anymore. Demon though he was, he had evolved and could not fit in there with the ferocious but mostly mindless and simple souls.

         Spike continued his search for an unknowable amount of time, until finally a faint tugging gave him the first hint as to where Buffy might be. His mind had to adjust to the proper orientation to enter this new dimension. He didn't know what hell dimension it was, nor could he guess the requirements of whatever guardian he would have to satisfy. But most likely Buffy's soul was trapped in there, and that decided the issue. In we go then, Spike thought resolutely, taking the irreversible plunge.


         Angel stood quickly and ditched the trashy romance novel he'd been reading. How could a man ever live up to these fantasies? he wondered. The book had been his only entertainment while he impatiently waited for the sun to drop. All around him the classy patrons of the Greyhound bus station waited for the next one-way bus to Anywhere But Sunnydale. There has to be a better way to travel, he thought. But in his 100+ years in America, he hadn't found a more efficient and sun-free method of shipping himself from place to place.

         The vampire with a human soul was halfway to The Bronze when he remembered that Giles and the gang no longer hung out there since the high school was destroyed. After a quick stop by Greenwalt's Butchery (his old standby for free blood), he headed to The Magic Box. Businesses would be closing down soon, but Giles's shop was rarely locked before patrol time. And besides, where there was magic, there he would find... Willow! Giles might be involved in the plot, but I can always count on sweet Willow to keep things straight.


         This is so gay, Willow thought, minding the shop while everyone else tries to find out what's wrong with Buffy! Only Anya was with her, and that wasn't very good company. Willow had cleverly suggested that Anya take inventory in the basement. Now she could pout all by herself without pesky questions. It was bad enough that she was away from Tara, though she knew Tara was best suited to handle problems requiring empathy. But Tara had specifically asked for help only from Giles. While they were off monitoring Buffy, Willow glumly felt left out.

         Why couldn't Xander babysit the shop with Anya? But Xander was at the Summers house watching Dawn. Willow wondered briefly where Spike was, since he usually assumed that role. But all thoughts of Spike fled her mind as the door bell dinged. In walked a tall, dark, handsome figure like a hero straight out of a romance novel. Instantly she leaked a big smile, "Angel!"


         The guardian Carianius announced, "One comes. You are right after all, Buffi-anni, but not in the way that you think." Carianius smiled with his angelic image, powdery white and peaceful. It always made things easy for human souls to see the holy image they expected when coming here. Usually his form produced feelings of great joy in those who would live their next life in this heavenly realm which was called Fields of Eternal Play. But one soul remained with him here, outside the gate to one of the many human heavens.

         Buffy was grateful to have been judged as worthy to enter Heaven, but she was not ready to meet God yet. She could not be sure that her friends were okay. Even if she had succeeded in trading her life to close off Earth from demon dimensions, still there were monsters loosed which could harm Willow, Xander, and her beloved - well, other friends, too. So Buffy waited here at the guardian's outpost for her friends to come get her.

         Even outside Heaven she experienced joy. She laughed every time the dreamy Carianius called her Buffi-anni. She had expected dull Saint Peter but this guy was charming. Sometimes she got to help him greet the newly arriving people. And now finally, just as she had predicted, loyal Willow was coming to guide her back! Yet even as she rejoiced, Carianius vanished from her sight.


         There was struggle ahead, Angel knew. Over the sounds of fist striking flesh, he could hear the racing heartbeats. Near the old high school's ruins, he found Giles and the new girl - what was her name? oh - Tara.

         The girl noticed him coming and alerted Giles. Otherwise Angel was sure he could have crept up to them undetected. "Angel," observed the Watcher astutely. Giles seemed not to know what to say next, which was uncharacteristic. Usually the fellow had everything figured out, like a father figure. The Brit liked to forget that Angel was his senior by almost two hundred years.

         But before Angel could make a dry comment, he too was dumbfounded. Because out from the rubble of the school's entrance walked Buffy with a stake in her hand. So she's alive, just like in Cordy's vision. "Buffy -" he started, but would not be able to finish.

         Giles pieced together what was happening an instant before it was too late. "Angel, run!" he called out in a panic.

         Angel couldn't believe what would motivate Giles to yell that. The girl Tara had sadness and confusion in her eyes as well. And then he learned why. Coming at him in a dangerous blur was Buffy the vampire slayer. Only by reflex did he manage to redirect her stake thrust. "What the!" he exclaimed as Buffy levelled him with a spinning backfist. Angel rolled away from his attacker. "Buffy, what are you doing?!"

         Buffy's blows rained in at Angel, and it was all he could do to block them. The slayer's skill was better than ever. "I'm a vampire slayer," said the face he loved so dearly, "and you're a vampire." Angel kicked out at her in a moment when she seemed vulnerable, but she caught his leg and threw him aside.

         "She's not herself!" Giles called out. "You have to get away! Meet me later at Whistler's Oak!" The girl Tara tried to calm Buffy down with soothing words, but Buffy couldn't be convinced. She renewed her assault on Angel immediately and relentlessly.

         Usually when fighting Buffy, Angel could easily manage to avoid getting staked, as long as he didn't try to counter-attack her. But this time, Angel knew he wouldn't last very long if he kept fighting. Suddenly Giles's advice looked pretty good. He threw his cloak at Buffy to buy a second of time. Then Angel disengaged from the fight and ran into the school, where he knew he could get to the sewers and lose her.


         Spike knew right away that he was in the right place. He felt Buffy's soul nearby, plus the portal to this dimension was laid out in visual terms. He could see his own body, a pearl-ringed door, and a big sodding angelic-lookin' fellow. The guardian noticed his presence but said nothing. "Right then," Spike preambled. "So I'm looking to get in there, go around and have a look-see, find my girl, then get out. Okay?"

         The guardian Carianius greeted Spike neutrally. "You seek to enter a human's holy realm, vampire. Know that this is not an allowable journey."

         Spike rolled his eyes. Are these blokes all reading from the same manual? "Well, yeah, I know I can't stay. But I am pretty sure there's a price I can pay to just pass through. You name it, your shininess, and I'll get my evil self out of your presence." Spike knew he was playing it a little fast and loose, but in the face of uncertainty he could only be himself.

         This guardian had facial features to display, and the corners of Carianius's mouth upturned. "Your presence does not discomfort me, vampire, nor is it as evil as you think. There is an understanding we can reach, which will allow you to find whom you seek. But it is perhaps not a comforting truth I offer, and very possibly your charge might not wish to leave this realm with you."

         Spike didn't know what some angel bloke could say that would make him feel bad, but that second part he hadn't thought about. This place is all heavenly-like. What if she's happy here and doesn't want to leave? As he considered his own doubts, Carianius prompted him ritually for an answer: "I have given advisement of the consequences. What say you?"

-*-*- -*-*- -*-*-

Price of Understanding

         Angel was glad that he had told Giles about his first trip to California to see Buffy. Whistler had given him his first glimpse of the teenage vampire slayer from behind an oak tree across the street. The moment had touched him so deeply that he could even remember the type of tree they hid behind. And though that original tree was in Los Angeles, still Giles had basically told him to meet across from Buffy's house. And the Slayer's neighborhood is the last place any smart vampire would go.

         Giles was waiting for him with explanation ready to go. "Buffy's body is alive, yes. But we believe her spirit is missing. We can't get her to talk personally with us. She's just going through the motions right now, like sleepwalking."

         That made sense to Angel, but "How did this happen, Giles? Willow told me you buried her. Did someone try to bring her back?" He hated to think of Giles or Willow doing something that stupid. Bringing people's souls back could only do harm. He knew that ever since regaining his own soul, and the lesson had only been reinforced with the return of his old flame Darla.

         "No, it wasn't one of us, I'm sure of that," Giles assured him. "I hesitate to explain the rest, but I shall tell you and hope that you don't jump to a premature conclusion..."


         He didn't know if time was a factor or not, but Spike knew that he didn't really have a ride home, so to speak. This was a one-way trip anyway, so why back out? "All right, then, let's get on with it," Spike decided.

         Carianius nodded. "I have given advisement of the price. Let that price be paid." At a mere gesture of his elbow, the ghostly image of Buffy appeared beside him. "She cannot see or hear you," warned the guardian, and just in time too. Spike was nearly overwhelmed at her beautiful and not-dead appearance. Plus he knew that it was really Buffy's soul and not just an illusion. He had to struggle not to call out to her.

         "Does she want to go?" he asked the guardian.

         "That is a consequence," corrected Carianius gently, "which must needs follow the price."

         So Spike would have to sit through whatever the guardian wanted to say first, before he could find out if Buffy even wanted to go back. He could easily have become huffy, but he was inspired to patience by the dreamy sight of Buffy alive. Carianius observed his turmoil closely.

         "To wit, then," the guardian said before launching into his speech. "You are an enigma among vampires, Spike."

         Umm, no. Angel is the special one, all soul-having. I'm just the regular type, only more capable than most. Spike kept his disagreeing thoughts to himself, though, as Carianius continued.

         "Most demon souls from your vampire dimension shun the personality they take over. Thus does Angelus despise Angel, and vice versa. But you embraced the tortured soul of William. Ferocious Spike adopted his goals. Revenge against those who would taunt him, anger over his own lack of social graces, and finally rage against all of society's customs. William the Bloody, without caution or discretion, slayer of two Slayers.

         "But in accepting the personality of William, you have taken more than violence for a purpose. Always at the end of his actions, and clueless though he was to obtain it, William sought love. Which brings us to this girl child here," Carianius gestured to Buffy. "The first woman, who was not insane or already soul-mated, that you've spent so much time with in your life. And you fall in love."

         Carianius paused, but Spike didn't deny it. He loved Buffy, even if she could never return his feeling for her. He wondered if the guardian was trying to tell him something about being perverse even for a vampire.

         But Carianius changed course. "You have almost achieved an understanding that no other vampire save one has been so introspective as to reach. Some human souls are evil enough that no demon needs take them over for a vampire to result. And indeed, some demon souls are humane enough that they might become human, should they first survive in their homeland."

         Spike objected, "Are you saying that I'm becoming a bloody human?"

         "I am saying that they - vampire and human - are merely different faces of the same creature. As Spike and William are different shades of the same color. Tell me, where do you think William ran off to, when you took his body?"

         To a bleedin' hell dimension, of course! Spike thought right away. But then he considered further. Naturally the most distasteful answer presented itself first, which Carianius confirmed:

         "Just as Spike the demon embraced the plight of William, so did William the poet embrace the audacity of Spike. You are a composition of both beings. You are a demon insomuch as you behave like one. You are capable of human emotion as is any vampire who doesn't shun the memories of his body. You knew that humans have misconceptions of what constitutes a soul. You just didn't carry the thought to conclusion in your case."

         Spike's gut churned, to think of himself as inescapable from the identity of the cowardly and inept poet William. He glanced at the image of Buffy, and he got a double flashback: two woman, both objects of his love, pushing him backwards with the crushing words 'You're beneath me.' William was never good enough, and Spike never could be either. His soul was doomed never to be loved.

         Spike growled into the mystic void in frustration. Damn you, William. You've ruined me with you. He hated weakness in himself. He craved love. He had power over neither. The thought of violence sparked in his mind, but rage had gotten him nowhere. Damn me, too. I guess that's the point. I've always been damned. Buffy would never love him, not like she loved Angel.

         Perhaps the guardian read his mind, for Carianius continued gently, "The partnership of souls has never served Angelus. He despises Angel as the human hates the vampire. They do not embrace, but fight for the same existence. Angelus can never be cleansed.

         "You, however, have taken a different course. Despite your pitiful beginnings, Spike the reckless and William the bumbling have managed to come to this sacred crossroads: you both have given up your tie to the world, for the sake of the love of another. Verily, your formerly separate souls are now one, and moreover it is cleansed. It would almost be possible that you could earn this realm for reward."

         Spike couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was as if Angel could become completely human, instead of a hybrid which was neither vampire nor man. But Angel apparently didn't deserve such salvation, whereas Spike did! It was mind-boggling. I guess I take it back. Bloody good show, William.

         Carianius sighed, "Alas, I offer you hope only to snatch it away again. You could almost deserve this realm, except that you do not merit it now. And if somehow you returned to the human world, you would be no longer cleansed. You would be again a soul counted more demon than human and unlikely to avoid electing damnation. This is my truth for you: that you have evolved into a fine soul, but that it will not save you."

         Spike stared the guardian in the eye. But that celestial being's eyes were not windows revealing its purpose. Spike swallowed, understanding now just how hurtful words could be. For these were not insults but decrees of fate. He was doomed, and there was no longer any guesswork or hoping for him. Kinda puts a damper on existence, doesn't it? he joked with himself.

         Softly Carianius intoned, "The price is paid. Find then whom you seek." With a twitch of his elbow, a shimmer like a heat wave passed across Spike's vision. He stared at Buffy's gorgeous face, and suddenly he knew that she could see him.

-*-*- -*-*- -*-*-

(continued in upcoming chapters!)