ifollowmyblood: ([Hero] I Want To Save The World)
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“Life is just a chance to grow a soul.”
==========

Getting his soul back was supposed to change everything. In truth, it changed very little save for the guilt and self-loathing. The conscience, the pain, that was all the bloody thing really was good for in the end. All it did was drive him mad and send him straight into that blasted pit where all he could do was feel...

Having a soul was fair worthless until he was back at Buffy’s side again. And even then, it wasn’t worth much.

Even when he recorporealized, failed at getting back to her and ended up with Baileigh instead, Spike wasn’t sure he’d made the right call and invested enough in his choice that he couldn’t very well have the bugger removed. Getting to know Bee, becoming part of her life all the way through to Searchlight...that had changed a lot.

That had given his soul value.

Her smiles and laughter soothed a lot of the pain, then Amelia came along and simply plucked it all away. A slew of young girls and their innocence washed over him like a tidal wave as the work carried away all that purity and the strength left in its wake purified him. Every friend, every ally left its mark, but it was those two...those warrior angels...who made him the man Buffy saw fit to treat him as. He couldn’t have her love, but he was welcome to all those two had to spare.

It was their hands that drew forth fibers of spirit and self, spinning them into cords and tying them down with knots so solid he had no hope of loosening them. They reminded him of the things his soul made him forget: standing for something when everything else in him screamed to run the other way. A promise to a lady, a love borne of obsession borne of love...he had all those before he got his soul. He had a soul before he added the old one, and all it did was mix everything all up inside. He liked to think it was the one he’d grown that ruled him now, while the other sat in some distant, unseen place once occupied by a microchip that kept him impotent.

He tried to feel it as he stood there on the well-worn stoop, admiring the wrought-iron address that barely hung on to the plank each digit was nailed to. He drank in the dark cut only by a dull yellow porchlight and shook himself from his thoughts only long enough to knock a second time at the forest green door with the peeling paint.

Finally heavy footsteps pounded closer just before it opened suddenly enough to startle him only a little. The familiar red hair and hazel eyes hit him with enough of an ache to remind him why he’d dealt with the badly painted car windows and the miserable time finding spots to rest in the heat of the afternoon.

“Evening, pet.” he sighed, flashing Hank Callahan a smile. “Got a spare bed?”

Hank grinned right back at him before flinging herself into his arms for a hug.

“Sure, Mimi don’t mind sharing...how long you here for?”

“Good, least that’s the hope. She in, then?”

“We just sat down to dinner...get yer ass in here.”

With a sigh and a nod, Spike stepped over the threshold and let Hank lead him in.
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August 2010

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