Spike's journey

It's never quite bright enough.

Once you've been up close and personal with the true power of light everything else just kinda pales in comparison.

Or it's her fault. More likely to go with the second choice.

But that's on the days when humanity is too bloody hard and the headaches are threatening to bust open his skull. Cause you know they never tell you about all those little clauses and piss-offs when they make you human. Not that he had a choice in the matter anyway. Still doesn't remember how it even happened. He'd been the champion of the piece, a bloody stack of virtue on the altar of her life, blaze of glory and all that shit...more like, take one for the team. Never asked to be reborn, never asked for headaches and stomach cramps and pissing himself in the middle of the night because he forgot to go the bathroom again. But he got it, in spades. The only thing that drug him through those first days after was sticking it to Angel cause don't think there wasn't enough of the former big bad left in him to let a little thing like snatching the 'champion of the people's' reward out from under his nose go unnoticed. Repeatedly.

His fingers tighten on the steering wheel as the sun beats down on his face and obscures his vision. Fred always bugs him to wear sunglasses. She doesn't get it.  Which is surprising because of the lot of them, she's the one who understands the most. Probably comes from being the only estrogen-based life form in a sea of overdone testosterone. Not that she doesn't love it. Little Miss Texas, loves to get the boy's motors running in her direction. She'd never admit as much but it's damn entertaining to watch...expect when she turns her big eyes his way. That's not so much fun and after the last time, he hopes she's learned. He's only a man, and human now at that, but in the end...no one is Buffy. So they're friends. He has a few of those now. Amazing what a pulse lends to your social life.

The revolving door of fighting and fucking at the grand offices of Wolfram and Hart are ever constant though the core remains the same. Funny how the grand and noble plan is more often than not overshadowed by the relationships that lie within. Take Wes and Lilah for instance. Now if they weren't a living metaphor for him and the Slayer he didn't know what was. Nothing stops a fatal attraction like that, not even death, and he would know. They fight and they shag and they threaten to kill each other on an almost daily basis but neither will admit that what keeps them together is love. He'd tried to talk some sense into Wes; women were way too confusing to reason with at the best of times. Mind, given that his alcohol tolerance isn't quite what it used to be, that bender with Wes was probably not the best way to go about it. Or the stripper for that matter. Someday they might figure it all out but he personally thinks they just like to hate each other. Makes the shagging that much hotter. Besides, the girl finally admits she loves you and the town sinks into the ground. Probably better to leave well enough alone.

So he's a bit bitter, just a touch, not even close to the level of acidic broodiness the 'great and exalted, formerly gonna be Shanshued until the better man got there first', gets up to. Honestly, he's been more than tempted to call up Willow, send Angel off with that Gwen girl for a few hours, pop the soul in and out and let them all have a little peace. But he won't. For all Angel's faults-and the list is alphabetically organized in a drawer by his bed- Spike wouldn't have survived without him. They bitch and tear at each other like a couple of old hens but family is what matters in the end and Angel gave him that. So he stood by when Cordy finally woke up and promptly moved on, he was there when Connor came back and left shortly after. He was the one who, at three in the morning, was refilling the shot glasses because after a hundred plus years on this earth, only someone who's been there can really understand the humanity of loss.

Gunn sure as hell doesn't get it. He's a good buddy, hell on wheels in a fight but what the hell can you really discuss with a guy who thinks he knows it all and will never come close. Lorne, maybe, but there's a bit too much puffiness there to really let your guard down.

So they all assimilate, they change and they stay the same. He's learned more about human nature in five years as a human than an eternity of studying it. Walk a mile in the shoes, he's guessing. A few more wrinkles, a lot more scarring and the ability to lead a life that doesn't revolve around the needs of others unless he chooses. You'd think he would have figured that out earlier. He'd like to say he's a different man since they stuck him with a heart beat. But he's really not. The bleach is gone, so is the coat. Somewhere in the city, a bank account has his name on it, dutifully stocked up with a bi-weekly salary but at the core, same snark, same passion...same ability to go from sweet to asshole in under sixty seconds. But he's found something that he never had before. Pride in himself. Which is why he's here now. Why he can be. There has been no contact, not even a phone call.  They both knew where the other was, snippets of info passed around the office. It wasn't time...until it was.

He parks the car and lingers those last few moments in the light before throwing open the airport doors. Reminded again that it's never quite bright enough, but it will be soon. A flash of blonde, catches the corner of his eye as the passengers spill out of the arrival area.

Here comes the light.

Notes from Sass: I just like to think they can figure it out now on their own from here.