[Author's note: HEY HEY HEY! I realize it has been a while, but the muse spell I usually use (Musega) cost too many MP, and I had to settle for the next step down (Musera). So that explains the delay completely. Also, you may notice that the chapters henceforth take place after Angel 5.08 (Destiny), rather than before it. In any case, Blarm.]
Sitting Out
Four: Sawn
"Well, hey there, Headdy Boy, great to see you back again!"
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce sighed to himself. "Home, Sweet Home. What do you want, Spike?"
"Oh, nothing," Spike said with a pat and a smile, "Just being friendly, right?"
"Right..." Wesley andswered slowly, "In any event, I have work to do. It seems to have this dirty habit of piling up when you're away."
"Fine, then. I'll let you get to that."
As he was walking away, Wesley felt something in his mind itch. It was a little, niggling irritation that he couldn't quite reach, stuck right in the middle of what had just happened.
"Hey, wait!" Wesley shouted, turning around, "You're solid!"
Spike spun in place, smiling widely, and veritbly bowled Wesley over as he ran to him and grasped his shoulders.
"I know! It's great, idn'it? I mean, I can feel things!"
"How long hav-"
"FEEL!" Spike exclaimed once again.
"Yes, well," Wes interrupted, dislodging himself from the vampire's grip, "I assume from your enthusiasm that this is a... recent development."
"Yeah, just the other day. Same day I kicked that great ponce's ass," Spike said, pausing in thought for a moment, "Hold on, I should write that date down. Celebrate yearly, I think."
Wesley sighed. "Whose ass? What's been going on around here?"
"Oh, right, you've been off," Spike noted, "Okay, let's see... I'm real again, the world got turned out of balance, I went to Nevada and beat Angel to the cup of something unpleasant, and somebody was named Sirt."
"Sirt?"
"Yeah, I thought that was odd, too. I mean, how do you spell that?"
"Wait, back up. What's this about the balance?" Wesley soothed, hands out in front of himself.
Spike thought for a moment. "Well, seems that now I'm a champion and all, I'm in the running for that little Shanshu business."
"Of course..."
"And, of course, that threw the whole bleeding universe for a loop. So this guy, Sirt, that's the one I brought up earlier, tells us to find out who's the chosen cold one we have to go to Death Valley and drink some sodding Mountain Dew."
"Mountain Dew?"
"Oh, right. It was all a big hoax. But, on the other side, a bloody good time was had by all. I got the cup and right kicked Angel's ass in the process."
"But it was a hoax? The contest, that is?"
"Yeah. Sirt, you know the one, he disappeared right after."
"Sirt did."
"Right," Spike replied, "And that's about it. Apart from the eye-bleeding."
"Eye-bleeding? No, wait, what about the universe? How did it fix itself?"
Spike shrugged. "Eve says the senoir partners took care of it. I guess we'll just have to wait for the big announcement."
"What annopuncement?"
With a grin, he finished, "That I'm the champ, Headdy."
Beckoning Spike into his office with a tilt of his head, Wesley continued, "What makes you so sure that you're the champion?"
"Because," Spike answered as he closed the door, "I worked for it."
Wesley stopped what he was doing and stared at Spike for a moment. "What do you mean by that?" He asked slowly.
Much of Spike's humor visibly drained, and he began to speak more evenly. "A year and a half ago, I got my soul back. I fought for it, tooth and nail, because I knew it was what I needed. I knew it was what I wanted. Angel got his jammed in there by a gaggle of angry Romanians. His was a reward for all the awful stuff he did. A curse."
"That's true," Wesley noted, "But I think you may be overlooking a few important facts here."
"Yeah, what's that?"
Taking a deep breath, Wes began, "First is the matter of free will. Or, at least, skewed will. As a soulless vampire, Angel was one of the worst, as I'm sure you know. However, this was due not to the man, but to the beast within him. Or, more accurately, the man's corpse. That Liam died, Spike, just as your William did, and quite frankly, neither of your human predecessors were, or are, responsible for your subsequent actions."
"And?"
"And," Wesley emphasized, "That could have been part of the design. Those gypsies may not have been there by simply blunder, but rather to work the will of the Powers. So even though it was not his choice to become ensouled, it may have still been his destiny."
"So what," Spike frowned, "That's just some get out of evil free card? You get to be the chosen one even though you ate a third of Europe? Doesn't seem very fair for those of us who worked for our redemption."
"Ah, that brings me to my second point. Fate is not well-known for its fairness, Spike. In fact, there's a very real chance that you are, in effect, punished for your rehabilitation."
"How's that?"
Drawing in a sharp breath, Wesley said, "Well, it may be that you will find yourself without the help of the Powers because you don't need it. If I understand your story correctly, and have even a clue about what's going on in your head, it seems as though you have done in a matter of months what took Angel more than a lifetime."
"That's what I said."
"And more remarkably, you sought out your own salvation, even though you were a creature of evil. I realize that there were some unusual circumstances, but I think, perhaps that's the story of your unlife. You and Angel both."
Both men stared blanky for a moment, not looking at one another. After a time, Spike shifted and began to walk toward the door.
"Wait, Spike," Wesley called, "Don't take this the wrong way. I don't think that you aren't the foretold vampire, but it's logically a fifty-fifty at best. What you did may have been contrary to what the Powers were expecting, and if that's the case, I'm afraid that you'll just have to keep finding your own Shanshu."
"Well..." Spike said with a smile, turning around slowly, "When you think about it, I'm still the one who gets to enjoy himself. Guess if it is him, at least I can take a little comfort in that century long curseapalooza he is."
"Perhaps longer," Wesley added cheerfully, "Potentially hundreds more years."
"What do you know," the blond grinned, "the thought really does cheer me up."
Nodding his head, Wesley pulled out a pen and got ready to do some work. "Any time, Spike."
"Thanks, Percy."
Wandering the hall, Spike found himself in less of a bad mood than he had expected, given what he had just been told. Being potentially forsaken by the team he'd switched to wasn't exactly a comforting idea, but there was a little joy to be had in bucking the system.
"A bloody rebel," he sneered, "I don't need gods."
And Spike grinned broadly as he strode into the main lobby.
"I've got me."
Sitting Out
Four: Sawn
"Well, hey there, Headdy Boy, great to see you back again!"
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce sighed to himself. "Home, Sweet Home. What do you want, Spike?"
"Oh, nothing," Spike said with a pat and a smile, "Just being friendly, right?"
"Right..." Wesley andswered slowly, "In any event, I have work to do. It seems to have this dirty habit of piling up when you're away."
"Fine, then. I'll let you get to that."
As he was walking away, Wesley felt something in his mind itch. It was a little, niggling irritation that he couldn't quite reach, stuck right in the middle of what had just happened.
"Hey, wait!" Wesley shouted, turning around, "You're solid!"
Spike spun in place, smiling widely, and veritbly bowled Wesley over as he ran to him and grasped his shoulders.
"I know! It's great, idn'it? I mean, I can feel things!"
"How long hav-"
"FEEL!" Spike exclaimed once again.
"Yes, well," Wes interrupted, dislodging himself from the vampire's grip, "I assume from your enthusiasm that this is a... recent development."
"Yeah, just the other day. Same day I kicked that great ponce's ass," Spike said, pausing in thought for a moment, "Hold on, I should write that date down. Celebrate yearly, I think."
Wesley sighed. "Whose ass? What's been going on around here?"
"Oh, right, you've been off," Spike noted, "Okay, let's see... I'm real again, the world got turned out of balance, I went to Nevada and beat Angel to the cup of something unpleasant, and somebody was named Sirt."
"Sirt?"
"Yeah, I thought that was odd, too. I mean, how do you spell that?"
"Wait, back up. What's this about the balance?" Wesley soothed, hands out in front of himself.
Spike thought for a moment. "Well, seems that now I'm a champion and all, I'm in the running for that little Shanshu business."
"Of course..."
"And, of course, that threw the whole bleeding universe for a loop. So this guy, Sirt, that's the one I brought up earlier, tells us to find out who's the chosen cold one we have to go to Death Valley and drink some sodding Mountain Dew."
"Mountain Dew?"
"Oh, right. It was all a big hoax. But, on the other side, a bloody good time was had by all. I got the cup and right kicked Angel's ass in the process."
"But it was a hoax? The contest, that is?"
"Yeah. Sirt, you know the one, he disappeared right after."
"Sirt did."
"Right," Spike replied, "And that's about it. Apart from the eye-bleeding."
"Eye-bleeding? No, wait, what about the universe? How did it fix itself?"
Spike shrugged. "Eve says the senoir partners took care of it. I guess we'll just have to wait for the big announcement."
"What annopuncement?"
With a grin, he finished, "That I'm the champ, Headdy."
Beckoning Spike into his office with a tilt of his head, Wesley continued, "What makes you so sure that you're the champion?"
"Because," Spike answered as he closed the door, "I worked for it."
Wesley stopped what he was doing and stared at Spike for a moment. "What do you mean by that?" He asked slowly.
Much of Spike's humor visibly drained, and he began to speak more evenly. "A year and a half ago, I got my soul back. I fought for it, tooth and nail, because I knew it was what I needed. I knew it was what I wanted. Angel got his jammed in there by a gaggle of angry Romanians. His was a reward for all the awful stuff he did. A curse."
"That's true," Wesley noted, "But I think you may be overlooking a few important facts here."
"Yeah, what's that?"
Taking a deep breath, Wes began, "First is the matter of free will. Or, at least, skewed will. As a soulless vampire, Angel was one of the worst, as I'm sure you know. However, this was due not to the man, but to the beast within him. Or, more accurately, the man's corpse. That Liam died, Spike, just as your William did, and quite frankly, neither of your human predecessors were, or are, responsible for your subsequent actions."
"And?"
"And," Wesley emphasized, "That could have been part of the design. Those gypsies may not have been there by simply blunder, but rather to work the will of the Powers. So even though it was not his choice to become ensouled, it may have still been his destiny."
"So what," Spike frowned, "That's just some get out of evil free card? You get to be the chosen one even though you ate a third of Europe? Doesn't seem very fair for those of us who worked for our redemption."
"Ah, that brings me to my second point. Fate is not well-known for its fairness, Spike. In fact, there's a very real chance that you are, in effect, punished for your rehabilitation."
"How's that?"
Drawing in a sharp breath, Wesley said, "Well, it may be that you will find yourself without the help of the Powers because you don't need it. If I understand your story correctly, and have even a clue about what's going on in your head, it seems as though you have done in a matter of months what took Angel more than a lifetime."
"That's what I said."
"And more remarkably, you sought out your own salvation, even though you were a creature of evil. I realize that there were some unusual circumstances, but I think, perhaps that's the story of your unlife. You and Angel both."
Both men stared blanky for a moment, not looking at one another. After a time, Spike shifted and began to walk toward the door.
"Wait, Spike," Wesley called, "Don't take this the wrong way. I don't think that you aren't the foretold vampire, but it's logically a fifty-fifty at best. What you did may have been contrary to what the Powers were expecting, and if that's the case, I'm afraid that you'll just have to keep finding your own Shanshu."
"Well..." Spike said with a smile, turning around slowly, "When you think about it, I'm still the one who gets to enjoy himself. Guess if it is him, at least I can take a little comfort in that century long curseapalooza he is."
"Perhaps longer," Wesley added cheerfully, "Potentially hundreds more years."
"What do you know," the blond grinned, "the thought really does cheer me up."
Nodding his head, Wesley pulled out a pen and got ready to do some work. "Any time, Spike."
"Thanks, Percy."
Wandering the hall, Spike found himself in less of a bad mood than he had expected, given what he had just been told. Being potentially forsaken by the team he'd switched to wasn't exactly a comforting idea, but there was a little joy to be had in bucking the system.
"A bloody rebel," he sneered, "I don't need gods."
And Spike grinned broadly as he strode into the main lobby.
"I've got me."