Angel:
As the mysterious figure leans forward into the scant illumination provided by a side light, my jaw drops.
"Well, well," he says in a harsh Cockney accent. "The prodigal sire returns."
"Spike?" Spike is, in many respects, exactly as I'd last seen him. That is, except for his hair, which is no longer bleached and is now cascading down the back of the chair and piling on the floor, and for the addition of a scruffy beard, which is knotted in several places on his chest. Even the tattered black duster that I remember is strewn over the table by his side. His mouth twists as if he was swallowing, and he looks up at my escort.
"Give us a minute, would ya?" Spike's accent hasn't disappeared, which is odd considering I haven't heard a single unusual accent since waking up. Both of them turn and walk out. The brother tosses the keys to the handcuffs to Spike and then closes the door. Spike stands, and I see just how long his hair has got. Even at his full height it lies in heaps on the ground.
"Lemme get those for ya." He leans forward and unlocks the cuffs, letting them fall to the ground. There is quite a lot on the ground. So Spike not only doesn't take care of his appearance anymore, he doesn't even take care of his surroundings. I rub my wrists as Spike sits back down. It's odd that Spike doesn't seem surprised to see me. "Ya know," he says, "I could have sworn you were dead, what with me killin' you an' all."
"Yeah, well, about that. I got better."
"I gathered. Everything good happens for you, you bastard." He pauses. "Barnett, Clarke & Nicholls brought you back, didn't they?"
"Yeah. Why is it that everyone I meet knows me only as the Scourge of Europe?" Spike leans back.
"Yeah, about that…"
"Spike…"
"Well I couldn't let your infamy not live through the ages could I? So I tampered with certain sources of information. Took me a couple of hundred years, but thanks partly to the carnage of the End of Days, I eventually managed to wipe out all records of your soulful existence."
"Why?"
"Had you died saving the world I wouldn't have bothered. But you died trying to kill Buffy, and I had to be the one that staked you. That single act of maliciousness erased all the good you'd done."
"But the lawyers thought I'd killed Buffy!"
"Hmm… don't know where they got that from."
"What happened to Buffy?"
"You don't know? Oh, that's right, you got staked trying to kill her!"
"You must have seen that guy's sister. She looks…"
"I know what she looks like! You think I don't see it every day?" I pause for a moment. There's a part of Spike that's the same as it ever was, but there's another part that's new, even caring.
"Do they know?"
"Of course not! What would I tell them, that Matt's mute sister looks exactly like someone I shagged centuries ago?" I'm on him in a second, one arm under his chin and the other pinning his chest down. I think he's surprised, partly by the amazing speed and partly by the body heat. "Shit, Peaches, you're human. How did you do that?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're faster than me, and I'm the oldest vampire on the planet as far as I know. And you're a human! How's it possible?" I have to admit, I've been wondering exactly the same thing.
"I… don't know. Ever since I woke up as human I seem to have retained my vampiric abilities."
"Retained? You're faster now than you were when I killed you!" I let him go. How can I use this power? How did I get it? Was it a part of the ritual that brought me back, and if so, why did Darla not exhibit similar strength when she was brought back by similar means?
"What's going on, Spike?" He raises his eyebrows.
"The power's been shifting since the End of Days. The minions of the First were defeated but are still numerous. Fact is, they now outnumber us quite considerably, and if only they weren't so diverse and uncommunicative, they could probably wipe us all out. Problem for us now is that there are groups all over the world trying to unite them all – that's what you were for in all likelihood."
"What can I do to help?"
"The good fight, mate. Join in, maybe you can make a difference. We're just fighting for survival. Any little bit helps."
"What's your little bit, Spike?"
"What?"
"See, seems to me that all you do is sit in this room, in your own filth, and never do anything." There's fire in Spike's eyes as he rises to face me.
"What do you know about it?"
"You'd be surprised. I was moping in the gutters for a hundred years after I got my soul. The thing is, I eventually did something about it. It's time to cut your hair, clean yourself up and make a difference."
"Go away, Angel." And he sits down again, an air of finality of his actions. I guess that's my cue to leave.
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Champion:
Spike has, for as long as I've been alive, been there giving advice and support to the minions of the Powers That Be. And being a vampire with a soul – the only one there has ever been according to him – he is a living… undead… repository of history. He's surprisingly good with children, and when someone has a child it is Spike that recounts the history of the good fight. He likes telling certain stories, not so much about his more ruthless years, but about the Slayer, Buffy, and her part in his acquisition of a soul. When my sister and I were very young, Spike told us about how he'd fallen for Buffy, how he'd wanted to be a better man for her, and had got a soul. Then he told how the demon Angelus, the sworn enemy of both Spike and the Slayer, had come to town and murdered her, so Spike had avenged her death by staking his own sire. I think Eve always liked to hear those stories, though something on her face told me that she didn't really believe them.
With this 'Angel' claiming to be that very demon, it only made sense that the only person who could verify his story would be the one person still alive that had been there. So we'd brought him to Spike's little house. I thought it very strange that Spike didn't seem very bothered to see him. In fact, he seemed to be expecting to see him. Why, oh why, would he be expecting to see a monster like Angelus? And why had he wanted to talk to him alone? There was clearly something that had happened that Spike hadn't told us.
Eve headed back to the headquarters while I waited outside the door. I mulled it over as I waited. Spike had always portrayed Angelus as a cruel sadistic monster, one that toyed with his victims before murdering them, and one with not a drop of humanity. But this man, Angel, didn't fit that description. He said he was human, which I still have to be convinced of, but he wasn't as evil as Spike described him. I had never thought Spike capable of lying before, but…
There is a click and the door swings open. There's Angel, rubbing his wrists. If Spike trusted him enough to remove the handcuffs, I guess I can trust him enough to check if he's human.
"Give me your wrist." He does so, without even thinking. Incredible that someone newly human has so much trust. There's a pulse there, strong and throbbing. There's no doubt about it: he is human. I let go of the wrist. "What did Spike say to you?"
"We've never really got on."
"What did he say?"
"He told me why you think I'm a bad guy."
"Oh yeah?"
"I'm not a bad guy… Matt, is it?" Did Spike tell him my name? "Look, I was a monster. I'll not deny it. I killed without remorse for more than a hundred years. But then I was cursed by gypsies. They gave me a soul." They gave him a soul? A hundred years before Spike got a soul?
"Like Spike? You fought for the side of good?"
"Not immediately. For another hundred or so years I just sat in the gutter, thinking about the awful things that I'd done."
"What changed?"
"I met someone. I saw her, and I loved her, and she was worth fighting for." Sounds familiar.
"Who?"
"The vampire Slayer, Buffy." I just stare at him. Assuming that he's telling the truth, which I can't help but do at the moment, it suddenly makes sense why Spike had said he was a bad guy. Everything that had made Spike who he is now – the soul, the love of Buffy – his own sire had done it first. But did that justify destroying all the good that he had done?
"Spike said that you killed Buffy."
"No, she was very much alive when I was killed."
"Spike said he staked you." How much of what Spike said was true?
"He did. Don't hold it against him, though, he was right to do it. I'd lost my soul, and Buffy being the person I'd cared about most, I went to try and kill her." I couldn't believe it. He was admitting to me that he'd tried to destroy the person that had made him honourable. You just had to admire that.
"I think I understand. Come on, man. Time to go home."
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Edward:
Rick's arrival had thrown everything out. First of all, I had to get rid of Liam for a while, so I know he suspects something. I'll just have to deal with that when he gets back. For now though, I have more pressing business to deal with.
Rick had been a liaison between the group's headquarters at the bookstore and our people in the field. Problem was the operation was a complete disaster. Rick and a few others had escaped, but the mission had failed.
"Jacqueline's dead, Ed!" Rick yelled at me once I'd sat him down. Shit. The Slayer's dead, and the First is amassing its power for a final strike.
"W… we need to get the Watcher's journals together, find out where the next Slayer is."
"It's too late, Ed. The powers of dark are going to meet, and we don't have time to do all the rituals and get someone to find the Slayer in time."
"Then Matt's going to have to do it alone."
"Oh, god. What are we going to tell Matt? It'll kill him." There's a sound from the doorway and we both immediately rise to our feet.
"Who's there?" There's a whimper, and Eve shuffles into the light. "Eve, I'm sorry, we didn't hear you come in. Did you hear what we were saying?" She nods. "Is Matt going to be back soon?" Another nod.
"We have to tell him the truth, Ed."
"I know." I hear the door open in the shop, and go to see who it is, motioning for Rick and Eve to stay hidden.
It's Matt, and he's not alone.
"Matt, what are you doing with Liam?" Matt smirks.
"Liam? This is Angel, the Scourge of Europe." I think I can hear Rick fainting in the back room.