"There are certain rules when assignments are given concerning Heaven. Fewer than one would expect, to be sure, but nevertheless there are procedural standards which need to be met. First off, and this is not an important rule, but you need some clothes, of course."
"Well, I didn't remove the ones I wore before coming here. The wankers probably just wanted to ogle my body, twisted buggers."
"We all arrive at the Threshold in nothing but our birthday suits, Spike."
Spike snorted derisively. On the other hand, old Peter probably did need something to look forward to besides opening and closing the Pearly Gates all day and night.
Wes continued, "As I've been placed in charge of getting you ready for your assignment, I find these rather fitting."
Spike looked down at himself one more time. He was now dressed in a snug t-shirt, jeans, docs and a long duster made of soft leather. On his left thumb, and some of his other fingers, were heavy silver rings, some flat and some adorned with what looked like hearts, skulls and anchors. Around his right wrist was a wide leather bracelet matching his new duster.
He shifted a bit as he took in his brand new attire, chewing on his lip, honestly not quite knowing what to say. The slight movement alerted him to another significant change in his usual apparel. Surreptitiously, he hooked a thumb in the rim of his jeans and pulled them out a bit. "I don't usually wear boxers."
"Oh. Briefs then?"
"No, I don't wear underwear. Don't need it."
"Not even when you're wearing jeans with a zipper?" Spike merely raised his eye brow and Wes blushed a bit before continuing, "I see. However, I believe underwear is appropriate."
"Well, I don't and as I'm not walking around with my dick hanging out of my pants, I don't need the bloody things! And what is this anyway, Wes? A joke? I mean, look at me!"
"You're an angel, Spike."
"And don't try to sweet talk me. I look like a sodding ponce!"
"I'm not sweet talking anybody. You. Are an angel."
"That's a load of bollocks, Wes! I bloody well am not and changing my clothes from black to white doesn't change that!"
"I think it does. Angels represent goodness and brightness and they don't flutter about in black leather or without underwear."
"Flutter?"
Spike turned around, belatedly realizing he couldn't very well look behind his back so he tried to reach behind with his hands and arms, but he couldn't feel any big, feathery appendages sticking out. That realization made him feel a tad disappointed. If he was going to be an angel, why didn't he have any sodding wings? He stuck out his lower lip in childish disappointment.
"You don't have wings, Spike. And you will not grow any, either. In fact, you'll look exactly the same as you looked before you passed away. "Your heart doesn't beat and your lungs still do not need oxygen. You can change your face and sport yellow eyes and sharp fangs just as you could before. Nevertheless, as of now, you are an angel."
"But don't you see how ridiculous this is, Wes? 'M a vampire. We don't become angels."
"Spike, you need to realize that angels aren't what we've been told they are. Sure, some of them are very close to our expectations and early descriptions and true, quite a few of them actually do have wings but those are the old ones. The 'original ones', one might say. The rest of the angels are just ordinary people given specific assignments before entering Heaven. So called Guardian Angels, you understand."
"No, I don't understand, Wes. M' hardly an expert on the matter, am I?" He tilted his head as he contemplated the idea of angels and assignments. "Is that what I am now? A Guardian Angel?" That sounded pretty awe-inspiring, actually, and Spike straightened his back a little.
"No." Wes laughed.
Oh, bloody hell. He slumped right back.
"No, only humans become guardian angels."
Of course. What had he been thinking?
"Spike, please don't get me wrong. You are unique. You are the chosen Champion of the Chosen One. Moreover you are the only vampire in known history to mankind ever to seek out and win back his soul."
"Ta." He was well aware of the fact that he sounded gruff and hurt, despite the praise.
"Don't thank me, Spike. I'm merely stating the facts. And I want to apologize for not letting you know, back when I was alive, how impressed I was by your actions, previous and present. The timing was bad, I suppose. Angel and I had been friends for a long time… Truth be told, I didn't want to hurt his feelings."
Spike nodded. He didn't blame Wes. Never had. For one thing, he was used to being disregarded and why should Wes treat him any differently than the rest of them? Besides, everyone of that lot had been with Angel for a long time. And they'd only known Spike for a year and before that year, the only encounters any of them had ever had with Spike had been when he was all soulless and far less friendly. Feeling hurt because he couldn't become a real boy guardian angel, was ridiculous. He should never have been this close to Heaven at all.
"Well, ta just the same, Wes. As for how things worked at Wolfram n' Hart, I was just happy that the old forehead would let me stay. Gave me a purpose, yeah?"
Wesley nodded and smiled before continuing, "Which brings me back to your assignment. Now, as I said, most humans tend to end up in Heaven fairly easily. As long as they don't go about killing innocents and mostly do good, they are welcome. Demons don't get in that easily and vampires never do. Apart from Angel, of course."
"Of course." Spike didn't quite manage to keep out the bitterness from his voice, sod it all.
"In your particular case, you've got the blood of thousands of innocents on your hands."
"That I have."
"And you were only truly good when you were human and during the last two years of your long existence."
Spike nodded. It was true, after all. If not for the chip, he would've kept on killing without remorse. He hated the Initiative for what they'd done to him but in the grand scheme of things, the chip had been a good thing.
"You helped the Slayer getting rid of Acathla, although the jury is still out as to whether you did that in order to save the world or simply to be with Drusilla."
"Bit of both, I expect. But yeah, truth be told, if I hadn't gotten Drusilla in the bargain, I wouldn't have cared much about the world whatsoever. So you can tell that jury of yours that they can omit that one from the score. It wasn't about being a world saviour. I just wanted to be with the woman I loved."
"Don't underestimate the importance of love, Spike. Love… Love means everything."
Something about the ex-watcher's wistful voice made Spike furrow his brow. Oh, bloody hell. Fred! Fred should be in Heaven if anyone ever should!
"Fred… She is not here, is she, Wes?"
"No, she isn't."
"M' truly sorry about that, Wes. For you. And for Fred."
Wes nodded.
"When I'm standing here on the Outside, I feel the loss more profoundly. But Inside, I'm comforted every day. As soon as I'm Inside, I leave all my mortal worries and sorrows behind and I truly find joy in knowing that she isn't hurting anymore... and I am instantly embraced by an overwhelming sense of Love, Happiness and Well-being.
"That sounds a bit like you're stoned if you ask me."
Wes looked slightly perturbed. "No, no, it's nothing like that."
Spike smirked.
"Look Wes. I understand I'm happy for you. You all walk around in pure happiness and it sounds bloody fantastic.
Wes' expression relaxed and Spike couldn't help it:
"Tell me, are there enough napkins lying about to wipe off the perpetual drool from your happy, open mouths?"
Wes did not look amused. "Spike, please. If you succeed with your assignment, you will get admitted entrance once it's over. But I suppose, if you're not truly interested..."
"Of course, I am! Was just pulling your leg! Gimme some of your Happy Heavenly Pills any day. I'll gladly pop 'em."
Wes frowned, looking slightly in doubt as to whter this had been the right call of not, and Spike decided on shutting his mouth for a while.