Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy and other BtVS characters belong to Joss Whedon and Co. Original characters are mine.
Distribution: Sure if you want to but tell me where it's going
Principal Robin Wood strode down the street, driven by his purpose. Memories of his mother had given him the final push and now he was out for revenge, no, justice. That was surely right. And a much better goal. Spike had killed Robin's mother so he would dust Spike. Simple justice.
Wood turned a corner into an alley and slowed his pace. There ahead of him was his quarry. Spike had his back to Wood his hands braced on the brick wall, his head down. Wood approached slowly and stopped just over an arm's length away.
"Spike."
Spike's head came up and he responded, "Principal Wood. What can I do for you?"
"You've done enough. You killed my mother."
Spike straightened and turned, his face in shadow. "Did I?"
"She was a Slayer!" Wood was almost shouting now. "You killed her on a subway train. I was only four and you took her from me."
Spike nodded. "I remember her. Nikki was her name. A good fighter."
Spike spread his arms wide. "Come on then, finish it."
Wood stepped forward the stake raised high over his head. But as he moved up he stopped blocking the light and it illuminated Spike's face. What Wood saw there made him stop short. Tear stains streaked the vampire's cheeks and the look in his eyes was sad, so sad.
"What's the matter Principal? I've killed lots of mothers, including my own."
A tear ran slowly down his cheek but Spike did not seem to notice.
"Lots of vampires kill their families, Angelus did. But of course he didn't like them very much. I was different. I'd been given this gift of strength and immortality and I wanted to share it." Spike shook his head. "But she didn't want the gift, she attacked me. We fought in the glow of the gaslights and I won. At the end she was herself again but it was too late, too late." Spike closed his eyes. "So do it Principal, avenge them all."
Wood stared for a moment. Then he said, "It's not possible for a vampire to feel remorse."
Spike opened his eyes. "Vampires do feel you know. But me I've got extra help for that. I've got a soul. I went it got it back so I could be a better man. I didn't consider I would need to be a man first, before I could be better."
"A soul," said Wood.
Spike took off his duster and extended it to Wood. "Take it, it belonged to your mother. I kept it as a trophy."
Wood put the stake away. "No. You keep it. I was going to kill you to punish you, but I can see that soul of yours is doing the job for me. No, you keep it as a reminder of what you did to my mother and to all the mothers and fathers and sons and daughters."
He turned and walked away, feeling lighter than he had in many years.
Spike's voice came behind him. "She'd be proud of you, she really would."
Spike watched Wood walk away. Another soul saved from darkness. Not that Spike had planned it that way. He would have welcomed the stake. Putting the duster back on he left the alley. He turned the corner on to the street and stopped.
A man stood in the street, illuminated by the street lamp. It was a man Spike had seen before, many years ago. Slowly Spike made his way forward until the two were only an arm's length apart.
The man smiled, warmly. "Why so surprised William? I told you we would meet again and I would renew my offer. The first time I made it you thought I was mad but now, perhaps now you understand where your existence has been leading."
Spike remembered that meeting, vividly. The year was 1916. The gang had broken up; Angelus had been cursed, Darla had gone off on her own and that particular day Drusilla had remained in Paris to indulge her taste for clothes. Spike had gone alone to the field of battle. To the average man the scene was a horror; trenches ankle deep in blood, clouds of gas rolling over the fields, men screaming. For Spike the smell of blood was intoxicating. He reached a fork in the road and for some reason chose to go left. The road led him away from the site of the latest battle. It also led to a dying soldier. He was English, his helmet lying beside him. Even in the pale moonlight Spike could see that he was done for, blood bubbled up from his lips and his chest was one large wound. He had bled quite a bit and Spike decided he was not worth the effort. As he was passing the man suddenly woke.
"Da," he cried his hand stretching up. "Da, I'm afraid, everything is dark, I can't see Da. Da.."
Spike stopped and though he didn't know why he was doing it he knelt down by the soldier and took the questing hand in his own.
"It's all right. Don't be afraid. The darkness will lift. Then it'll all be light."
The soldier clutched Spike's hand with unexpected strength. Then he smiled, his eyes widening at something only he could see.
"Oh, Da, you're right, I see it. It's so bright, like the sun on the snow." His face grew earnest and he added, "I'll be waiting for you Da." His head lolled to one side and his eyes grew dim, the life gone.
Spike pulled his hand away and then used it to close the soldier's eyes. He stood and looked down for a moment. Then he turned violently away, and nearly fell backwards over the body. For behind him was a man, a man he had seen only once before. The man's name was Jezeil and he was a sorcerer.
Jezeil smiled. "Good evening William."
Spike's eyes narrowed. "Why do you call me that? My name's Spike."
Jezeil shook his head. "That is the name of the demon. William is the name of your true self and that is with whom I came to speak. I have an offer for you."
"An offer? What kind of offer?"
"Have you heard of the Hamatra?"
Spike shook his head.
"We arethe keepers of the balance. We stand against chaos and destruction. I've come to ask you to join us."
Spike let out a short laugh. "You want a Vampire to join this little group? We like destruction!"
"Don't generalize. Actually we already have one vampire among us. Granted, she's unusual and she has a soul."
Spike felt his mouth drop open. "Another one cursed, like poor old Peaches?"
"No. Her soul returned all by itself, found its way home."
"That's not possible, is it?"
"In the year 1792 this particular vampire suffered a great loss. As a result she made a vow, never to drink the blood of a human being again. And it was a vow she kept. Now, you know how difficult that must have been. 75 years later she awoke one evening to discover her soul had returned.
"So you see, there is precedent. And she's not the only vampire to find her way back."
"And what makes you think I could be like that?"
Jezeil's gaze moved down to the dead soldier and then back up to Spike's face.
Spike moved back, avoiding the body on the ground. He shook his head. "No. That meant nothing. You're mad if you think I could become so weak again." Then he turned and ran, ran back toward Paris and Drusilla. Her madness he could deal with.
He heard Jezeil's voice behind him. "We will meet again William, and you may find you feel differently."
The sound of a throat being cleared brought Spike back to the present. He focused on Jezeil. Then he smiled. "You were right. I do feel differently."
Jezeil nodded and the gestured with his head. "Come on. We have work to do.