A/N: So, so sorry about the delay folks. One thing after another managed to get in the way of getting this chapter out. I apologise for not having this out sooner. Many thanks go out to my beta, Orin Forever Crimson. Please R&R but, most importantly, enjoy!

Both Wesley and Cordelia stared at Angel with their mouths agape. Angel grabbed the bell on the counter and threw it across the room. It emitted a strangled ping sound upon impact, drawing Wesley out of his shock.

"Angel, that can't be possible. Spike has no soul." Angel turned to Wesley and stared at him for a short time before speaking.

"Or maybe he's always had one."

Buffy finally caught up with Spike. He was standing within a rock's throw of the ultimate terror that might soon befall him. Neither of them spoke while their eyes took in the multitude of horrors going on before them.

"So," Spike said finally, breaking the silence, "I've got to go through that."

"Yep," Buffy replied apologetically.

"Do you know what I'll be facing?"

"Nope."

"You're quite a bit o' help, you know that?" Spike's teasing voice took any edge off the words he spoke. Buffy turned to him and pulled him into a tight hug.

"I have faith in you." She pushed his shoulders back before locking his eyes into hers. "I'll be with you the whole time, but I won't be able to help you through this. You'll be fighting on your own." Spike held her gaze while he replied.

"As long as you're beside me, pet, I won't be alone. You're worth fightin' through anythin'." Buffy smiled briefly before she dropped her gaze and frowned. She seemed to be building up the courage to say what would come out of her mouth next.

"Spike... don't do this if you think it will make me love you. I can't be the reason you're going back." The life seemed to drain out of Spike as he turned to regard the plethora of pain that he would have to face. "I do love you Spike," Buffy began again and reached out to hold his face in her hands, "but I'm not in love with you. I love you like I do Xander and Willow. You've proven yourself a trusted friend time and again, but to me you'll never be more than that." Buffy held his face with her hand, praying that he would understand.

Spike let her hold his face a moment longer before backing out of her reach and turning back to face the yawning mouth that was the opening to hells he couldn't even imagine. Seeing his fill, he closed his eyes and began to think, letting his face show no emotion. Buffy searched that blank face, trying to determine whether or not he would live up to her expectations of him.

"And if I say no?" His words broke her heart. She hung her head in defeat.

"You'll be free to roam this plane forever," Buffy began to relay the things the Powers had told her in the event that Spike chose not to aid their cause. "You'll never be able to reach the other side, the side of bliss, but you can escape the pull of hell for as long as you like." She tried to keep her anger and hurt out of her voice, but she just couldn't. Buffy had never been good at keeping her emotions in check."

"So, my choices are stay here in this desolate, but ultimately peaceful, place," Spike indicated the wastelands behind them with a wave of his arm, then he went silent. He turned back to face the horrors of hell before speaking again. "Or, I can suffer through hell, all for a ghost who will never return my feelings and for a group of sods who don't particularly like or trust me."

"That's not true!" Buffy moved forward and grabbed his shoulder. "Everyone there likes you." Spike turned his sardonic glare on Buffy, forcing her to change her statement. "Everyone but Xander likes you. They all-"

"Mark my words, pet," Spike interrupted her, "they'll all turn on me in the end." The sorrow in his voice was overpowering. "Everything is rainbows n' kittens now, but somethin' will come up, an' they'll all blame Spike. 'Spike is a soulless demon' they'll say, or 'he's a monster' or some such bugaboo. But in the end, they'll turn on me." Buffy wanted to argue with him, wanted desperately to prove to him that he was wrong, but she knew that nothing she could say would change his mind.

"No friendships last forever," she said at last, drawing an irony filled smile from Spike.

"No, I don't suppose they do." He reflected upon his time with Drusilla, at one point arguing with Angelus that 'Dru and I are forever'. They might have been together longer than most vampire couples ever recorded, but forever they were not. Spike again studied the torment awaiting him and turned back to Buffy. "And they are hardly ever worth that." He nodded toward the chasm opening.

"Then I guess you have to figure out if we're worth it, Spike." The way that she said it made Spike think she already knew what his choice would be. He snorted loudly and met Buffy's eyes.

"I've suffered enough." His words caused Buffy's eyes to well as she turned away, defeated. She took a few steps before she heard Spike yell out behind her. She whipped her head around to see Spike charging towards the first layer of his own personal hell. And then she smiled and let the tears fall.

Tara and Dawn walked past a sign indicating they were in front of Fat Tony's Place. They had parked the car and had walked up and down the sidewalks of the Sunnydale Food Corridor, passing various food vendors and restaurants along the way.

"What about Italian?" Tara had repeated this same question for every type of food establishment they had passed over the last twenty minutes. And, as every time before, Dawn had simply shrugged her shoulders. Tara had finally had enough. "What's wrong, Dawn? If you don't tell me, Willow and Giles may well starve." Her words caused a smile to cross Dawn's face. Dawn looked over at Tara as they walked past Fat Tony's.

"I'm worried about Spike."

"I know sweetie. We all are."

"What if he never... I just can't lose anyone else." Dawn was on the verge of tears. Tara wrapped her in a tight embrace and spoke softly to her.

"We are not l-losing Spike. Okay? We won't let that happen." Dawn sniffled and nodded, stifling her tears. "But if we're going to find a way to help him, we can't be fighting on an empty stomach." Dawn laughed this time. She thought that it might as well be Xander walking beside her with all the talk of food going on.

"Let's do Asian," Dawn decided at last. Tara gave her a horrified look, drawing even more giggles out of Dawn, before she laughed herself and led the way back towards the last Asian food place they had passed.

"Come on, Hallie, help me out here!" Anya was pleading with her best friend and ex-co-worker, the Vengeance demon Halfrek. They were seated at the bar area of 'Foam me to You', a local coffee and espresso shop. Xander sat off to the side, not really wanting to be sitting with a demon but also not wanting to show his distress at the idea. He knew that Halfrek wasn't so bad, as demons went, and that she was likely going to be one of Anya's maids of honour at their wedding, but he simply didn't like demons.

"Anyanka," Hallie began, using Anya's full name, "I don't know what you want me to say. You know just as much about the higher planes as I do, if not more. We both know that you spent more time with D'Hoffryn than I did." Despite the words, there was no malice in the tone. Both women knew that it was true and had come to terms with it long ago.

"That may be true, but I don't have the access I once did. I can't go hopping from dimension to dimension looking for Spike."

"And whose fault is that?" Halfrek's voice was teasing, trying to get a rise out of Anya. Apparently, it worked.

"That's not the point, Hallie!" Anya was quickly getting agitated, as she often did with her old friend lately. Halfrek couldn't understand her decision to stay human and Anya could never find the right words to explain it. Still, Hallie had stuck by her, and that was what friendship was all about.

"No need to get huffy, dear; I'll see what I can do. Now, who am I looking for again?" Anya's eyes lit up at her friend's agreement to help and she quickly hugged her. Xander, watching the whole thing despite desperately wishing he was elsewhere, was taken aback by Anya's display. It wasn't so much that he thought her incapable; their mounting time together had shown him otherwise frequently. What he didn't understand was her fondness for Spike. He didn't have the answer, but he resolved to find it later.

"His name is Spike, but he occasionally goes by William the Bloody." Anya's words had a strange effect on Hallie, who blinked rapidly in thought. "What's wrong, Hallie? Do you know him?"

"I don't know," Halfrek responded honestly. "I can't say that I've ever heard of a 'Spike', but William the Bloody sounds familiar..." She trailed off in thought.

"He went by William the Bloody for awhile before changing it later to Spike," Anya provided what she knew about Spike's past. "He came from England a century or two ago. Come to think of it," Anya continued thoughtfully, "weren't you active in England several times during the 1800's?"

"Yes, I was." Halfrek still appeared lost in thought. "I can't shake the feeling that I should know this man, but the Willie I knew wasn't a vampire." Hallie shrugged her shoulders before drinking deep of her latte. "Like I said, I'll see what I can dig up. Give me a day and I'll get back to you. But you owe me now." She said it with a stern voice, but they both broke out into giggles. Xander could only guess that it was an inside joke, something only old friends were privy to. Then, with a flash of light, Halfrek was gone. Anya was still laughing quietly while Xander scooted closer to her.

"So, she's going to be one of your maids of honour?" Xander needed to confirm what Anya had told him previously. He must have allowed some distaste creep unknowingly into his voice because the look Anya gave him would have withered flowers.

"No, Xander, she is the Maid of Honour. She's been my friend for centuries and has been there for me through everything." Anya paused, gathering her breath for the onslaught that Xander was sure would come next. He suddenly wished that the Foam served alcohol. "Dawn and Tara are my two bridesmaids. I know that Willow is you Best Man, but you're going to need to groomsmen to go with my bridesmaids. Do you even have to male friends?"

"Of course I do," Xander responded with shocked anger. When Anya continued to stare at him, Xander began to list them off, holding up his fingers for each name. "There's... uh... Giles! And, uh... Oz! And then there's... " Xander looked down at his two fingers, then at Anya, expecting a victory smirk to be on her face. Instead, he saw concern.

"Xander, we need to get you more man friends. What about your co-workers?" Xander thought about it for a minute before writing that idea off.

"No, those guys are alright, but I don't think that I can hang out with anyone who isn't in our line of work."

"They're your co-workers, Xander. They are, by definition, in your line of work." It was Xander's turn to glare at Anya until she understood what it was that Xander had been implying. "Oh, the monster hunting. Right."

"Most people that I meet tend to run away in terror when they face what we deal with on a normal day. I guess that's what makes them normal."

"No, Xander," Anya responded huskily, "that's what makes you extraordinary." While Xander couldn't help but notice the uncharacteristic insight Anya had just displayed, Xander also recognised the sound of lust in Anya's voice for what it was and promptly flagged their waiter.

"Check please!"

"How on earth could Spike have a soul?" Wesley voiced the question for both he and Cordelia.

"Spike was different than other vampires at first, until Darla and I... changed him." Angel began taking a long walk down memory lane, recalling things that he would much rather forget. "Spike's first action after he was sired was to seek out his mother and turn her."

"Vampiric dealings with the victim's family are frequent amongst the recently turned," Wesley pointed out. "The most common of which ends in wholesale slaughter. The demon that is the vampire delights in destroying the things its mortal forbearer held dear. Sometimes, this is better accomplished by turning the family members."

"Yeah, but Spike didn't do it because he wanted to kill his mom," Angel explained. "He did it because his mother was dying from tuberculosis and he wanted to share with her what he thought of as 'the gift of vampirism'." Angel let that sink in for a minute before continuing. "When the demon his mother became accused him of siring her for sexual reasons, Spike put a stake through her heart because he couldn't bear to see the monster in his mother's form."

"Wait, his mother came on to him? That's just... eww." Cordelia made loud gagging noises while she came out from behind the counter and took a seat in the Hyperion's lobby.

"You're suggesting that Spike sired his mother because he genuinely cared for her well being?" Wesley was having a hard time wrapping his head around this information; it went against everything that his Watcher's training had told him. "That's just... human."

"Don't get me wrong, the demon was there too," Angel clarified. "Spike had dreams of rampaging over England with his mother and Dru, feeding to their hearts' content." Angel paused to gather his memories to him, to dust them off as it were, before he continued. "But he wasn't the monster he would become until Darla and I made him that way. Twenty years is a long time to change someone." Angel had several more instances he could relay, but he honestly didn't want to dwell any more on the subject than he had to. From the way Cordelia and Wesley were looking at him, he had made his point well enough already.

"But, what about after that? You've had a soul for a hundred years? He's been killing people that whole time," Cordelia pointed out.

"Sure, but he was with Drusilla then. Since he and Dru went their separate ways, Buffy tells me that he's changed dramatically. The way she talked, it sounded almost as if he'd gone back to the way he was before he met me and Darla."

"Oh," Cordelia responded simply, out of any further ideas.

"So, I suppose the question becomes; what if the prophecy is about Spike?" Wesley's question hung in the air, unanswered.

Time in the outside world had no bearing on the realm that Buffy and Spike inhabited. While she couldn't exactly see what was happening with her friends on earth, she knew that things hadn't progressed as far as she had hoped. And while the timing in the corporeal world that both Spike and Buffy had left behind didn't need to be exact, it couldn't be too far off.

Buffy worried her lower lip as Spike endured the latest torture that their current realm had in store for him. Currently, Spike was surrounded by the 'ghosts' of all his innocent victims as they re-enacted their final moments. The commentary the spirits provided during each scene was, Buffy found, particularly unnerving.

Buffy knew that they weren't the actual spirits of the people Spike had wronged in his sordid past, but Spike seemed none the wiser. The only thing that still had Buffy convinced that Spike was reformed, that he was no longer the monster capable of such atrocities as the ones being levied against him then, was the look of pure sorrow on his face.

And for his part, Spike genuinely was repentant for most of his past crimes. Surely, several of them he would commit again if given the chance, but nothing like the mutilations staring him in the face. As they presented their lamentations to him, their voices rang hollow even if their protestations didn't. Spike knew that these couldn't be the actual spirits of his former victims. If they were, then the gods were every bit as cruel as they accused him of being. What gods of good would force people to relive their deaths? Still, even with the hope that these shades were no victims of his, their performance had the desired effect.

Spike had sat through this for what seemed like days. Maybe it had been days, Spike surmised stoically. He was tired of seeing his past wrongs flash before his eyes. He was guilty, he knew, and could offer no defence. Would offer no defence, Spike realised suddenly. How could he? And yet, the point had been made long ago. With a surge of effort, Spike pulled free of the chair that he had allowed himself to be strapped to for the Trial of the Innocent, as this particular leg of the journey had been called.

"Enough!" Spike's shout filled the room, chasing the spirits away and startling Buffy enough to cause her to jump. As the ghosts filed out of the room, the robed man entered the room.

As best Spike could tell, the robed man was a sort of jailer and judge, with a nice heap of tormentor all rolled in to one. He was one of several that Spike had seen along the way. Spike supposed that every one of the tormented in this plane had their own robed man assigned to them. Some of them had appeared to take pleasure in their duties; the one before them now did not.

The robed man walked up to Spike, measuring the vampire with an unrelenting gaze.

"You have given up, vampire?" There wasn't much surprise behind the words, almost as if the robed man had assumed failure was the only possible outcome. Spike fought back a growl.

"No," Spike said at last, "but I think this charade has gone on long enough, mate. You and I both know that these spectres are all smoke an' mirrors. They're no more innocent victims than I am." Buffy's jaw dropped at Spike's statement but the robed man nodded sagely.

"And you don't think of yourself as an innocent victim?" The robed man's words had Spike reflecting upon his past in a different light. In the end, Spike shook his head.

"Maybe once upon a time," he conceded after some time, "but that time has long past. All of this is somethin' I deserve, somthin' I've earned." The robed man nodded his head again and Spike fancied that he saw the ghost of a smile cross his lips before he turned away and motioned for the vampire to follow him. Spike turned to Buffy, who smiled in earnest, before they followed the man down the hallway.

Spike limped a little as they walked, a testament to the earlier trials he had faced. The Trial of Torment had been particularly painful, and it had been the first Spike encountered as he entered this end of the realm. Through it all, Buffy had been there, watching him. She hadn't said much at all during their time, and Spike suspected that was because she couldn't, not that she wouldn't. She talked to him in between the trials, as she did now.

"Just a few more trials, Spike, and then you'll be home free." Her face was bright and her voice enthusiastic. Spike just grunted and trudged on. He knew what he was doing was right, but that didn't make it hurt any less. It just gave him a reason to go on. And even with Buffy standing right beside him, Spike found his thoughts wandering to Dawn. He wanted nothing more than to get back to Sunnydale and resume his protection of her. To his surprise, he found that he didn't just want to do this to keep his word to Buffy, but because it was something he honestly desired. Spike didn't have much time to dwell on this new thought, as the robed man stopped upon entering a new chamber.

"This is the penultimate trial, vampire. Before you stands the Trial of Righteous Causes." Spike snorted and looked about, hands on his hips. As he turned back to the robed man, a fist caught his jaw and sent him flying across the chamber. Weakened as he was, Spike was slow getting up. To his surprise, his attacker had not advanced while he was downed.

"Bloody hell," Spike cursed loudly as he sized up his opponent. The figure of a man stood before him. A man with golden armour and wings. "Oh, bollocks. An angel? Is this some kinda' joke?" Spike directed his query at the robed man.

"This is no joke, vampire. Before you is a true celestial being, a servant of the Powers. He helps keep balance in the Otherrealm. The fate of thousands depends upon his survival. And now, he must fight you." The robed man let that set in before continuing. "Only one of you can leave this chamber. The man with the greater cause shall prevail." The robed man then disappeared, just as he had done during the previous trials.

The angel took measured Spike up before nodding quickly and assuming an attack posture. Spike sighed wearily to himself.

"Always wanted to kill an Angel. Guess you'll have to do, Wings." With that, Spike charged the waiting celestial.