Rating:  PG for some language 

Feedback:  Thank you.  Melpomenethalia@aol.com

Spoilers:  Through season seven's "Help," episode four.

Distribution: The Warren and Fanfiction.net.  If you're interested, please let me know.

Summary:  Spike asked Buffy to sit with him to keep the monsters at bay.  Here's my take on what might happen if someone stayed with him.

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy.  Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you.  Thank you.

Author's Note:  This is the fourth in a series of vignettes, all occuring on the same day. 

2:30 p.m.

            I really shouldn't be here.

            D'Hoffryn is going to flay my hide, quite literally, if I don't get off my mystical duff and do some damage and soon.  I can't believe I actually had to walk down here.  Not being able to teleport sucks.

            So, the lump in the corner is Spike now.  He isn't looking too good.  Well, I mean, his buttocks are still quite shapely, and his chest is nice and ripply, but he's sort of hunched over like he's in pain, and that just never looks good on anyone.  That and he has this big cut on his forehead that looks like he was riding a skateboard and met the pavement too hard, but overall, he's just not putting off the big sexy vibes he used to.

            Maybe it's because he has no confidence anymore.

            Well, he went and made a pretty gosh darn stupid choice.  What did he want with a soul anyway?  I've had one, and no thank you.  Way too big a liability if you ask me.  Evil is a lot easier.  Once you've got a soul, everything gets all morally ambiguous and complicated. 

            Oh, for pity's sake, I am not seeing a tear on his cheek, am I?  He's staring at a support column and crying.  I'm looking at the same post and it's not doing anything to me at all.  It's not a particularly sad pole.  It's standing there, looking all beige and smooth, not acting out the death scene from Camille.  Now that would be an interesting performance.  I don't think I'd cry over that; I'd be too busy being intrigued.  But that's beside the point. 

            I suppose I should say something.

            "Oh, cheer up, buckaroo.  It can't be all that bad.  I mean, so you killed thousands of people, and probably did some maiming and torturing and maybe even some jaywalking, but what's the big deal?  Vampires do that kind of stuff, you know.  So do vengeance demons.  Well, except for the jaywalking.  Unless they've had their teleportation rights revoked.  Then all bets are off."

            I'm not sure he heard me.  Maybe the soul made him deaf?

            "HELLO?  SPIKE?  ARE YOU IN THERE?"  I scream at him thoughtfully.

            Huh.  Nothing. 

            Why would he do this to himself?

            Well, okay, I get that someone breaking up with you can hurt a lot.  My line of business, so that I understand.  So, he goes all feral on Buffy, which is what vampires kind of have a tendency to do.  Thus far I get the motivation.  But then he goes off and, when he knows he has zero chance with her, makes a really stupid, dumbass decision to get his soul back.  Now he not only doesn't have Buffy, he also doesn't have himself anymore, either. 

            He did the right thing, of course.  But sometimes the right thing isn't the practical thing at all.  Now, take me for example.  I get dumped by Xander, I choose to go lose my soul, not get another one to cause me more trouble.  Get rid of the pain.  Best way to handle it.  Nothing like a little good, old-fashioned, bloody vengeance to get you past any residual unhappy feelings.

            It wasn't a very well thought out plan, Spike, but from what Xander said, that's about par for the course for you.  Well, I suppose I should go see that girl over on Third Street.  She just got dumped by her boyfriend of two years, and she's had over a bottle of Jack Daniels in the last hour, so she should be ripe for the wishing. 

            And maybe if I'm really lucky, it'll come out so slurred that I won't have to kill anyone. 

            "Bye, Spike.  Have fun dealing with the emotional repercussions of a millennium of murder," I call out as I leave, and I'm two blocks away before I realize that I got the last part wrong.