Title: The Saga of the Soul
Summary: Post Season 7, Spike returns to earth. A different twist on his redemption. This will be significantly AU from the end of Season 7/Angel Season 4. This chapter is in Spike POV
Disclaimer: I own nothing
We all know what happens to a soul when it dies. If it was good, it goes to heaven, if it was bad, it goes to hell. The same old Sunday school theme that Buffy came to epitomize.
When I died (the second time) my soul went right to heaven, where it found an immortal soul named Cecily and apologized profusely.
Right wanker, he was.
Now, demons; what happens them when they die? Well, they go back to Hell. Only Hell is supposed to be where they belong, right? And they're supposed to like it there, aren't they?
Uh, that's where problems enter my story.
I first was born to earth as a vampire, half demon and half human, way back in the late eighteen hundreds. More recently, I reformed.
Don't bother adjusting the volume of your set. Don't bother checking your hearing aids. You heard me right the first time. I reformed. A vampire changed its spots.
I did it all for a woman, of course. Any story worth telling has a girl, don't it? Yes, it does.
So I got my soul back.
Whoop-di-doo. It made a little difference—drove me quite mad at first. But I learned to get by, learned to ignore it, learned to suppress it, force it down.
Then I died again.
Saved the world. Now, that is something to be proud of. I saved the world. A vampire. Irony, and all that.
Now, when you have a soul and you do a good deed, what happens? That's right, the soul takes all the credit. Now, in the case of my poncey Sire, that's fair. The demon is evil, the soul is good. Simple.
My soul took credit it didn't deserve. William didn't save the world. Spike did.
William went to heaven, and me? I went to hell.
William got a hero's welcome.
At least I did him a good turn, then.
So, I was a demon who'd saved the world, in spite of my soul. At one point Buffy had told me that she needed me to be the big bad of old—not the wimpy one I was being. So I firmly clamped down William, so that he wasn't helping at all.
It was just me.
I went to hell, and I discovered that I was right; I hated it. That's what I'd told Buffy, so long ago and far away.
I couldn't stand hell.
It's odd for a demon not to like hell, but I've always been odd, haven't I? I fell in love with a Slayer.
After that, hell was just...hell.
So I got out.
How did I get out, you're wondering?
Well, I went to see a friend of mine in hell. She was pretty happy there, but not really happy. She was in a tricky situation. So I offered, and she scoffed.
Scoffed, I said. Anya scoffed.
Well, when all scoffing was said and done, she said okay.
Why? Because she believed in anyone could do it, it was me.
So I started walking. I walked out of hell.
Well, I walked to the edge of hell. He met me there.
William. My soul. A champion of heaven, believed to have saved the world (even though, obviously, he hadn't).
And he broke us out.
We made a request of William. We both wanted humanity, and he said he couldn't give it to us. He smiled, and made nice, and instead of getting what we wanted, he gave us the appearance of humanity.
I should have known the compromise they'd make. Should have known better.
So, uh, here I am. On Earth.
A demon. A human-looking demon. A vampire again. Spike. The Slayer of Slayers. With Anya, my trusty side-kick.
Call me Spike, the Vampire Slayer. In Buffy's case, that means, the Slayer of Vampires. In my case, it means Spike. The Vampire who Slays Vampires. Maybe I should shorten it; Spike, the Slayer. Spike, the Champion? No, that's for poncy gel-covered gits with souls.
What a twisted end to the story.
All I have is this world. And I'm not gonna let any vampire or demon turn it into hell. Cause I've been there. And I don't like it.
Anya and I? We're vampires.
We're gonna save the world.