It was the last day of class, and most students had already started their vacation, leaving Sunnydale High very empty. The library, however, was currently hosting more students than Giles sometimes saw in a full day. They weren’t there for books, nor were they there to say goodbye before summer break. It was a full Scoobies meeting, and he was still slightly astonished that he was willing to ask them their opinion in the matter. They were children even if he managed to forget that fact when he assigned patrols. He should have been able to make the decision alone; and he should have made it long ago.

“I still think we should stake him,” Xander reiterated, an opinion that he hadn’t changed after half an hour of debate.

Again, Willow countered him.

“But he has a soul! He’s not going to hurt anyone. Plus, he helped Buffy. That ought to count for something.”

There was a pause. The ‘B’ word had been uttered. So far, they had managed to dance around the subject without actually pronouncing her name. Difficult, but feasible. It seemed that Willow thought that it was time to pull the big guns out. The Slayer had made a truce with William the Bloody; and as a result, he had been ensouled. From what they could determine from Spike’s succinct but somehow clearer and now saner explanation, she had had the chance to dust him, but had refused to do it.

“How do we know he’s not going to hurt anyone?” Cordelia asked, her tone not accusing merely concerned. “And for his soul… Angel had one too, and we know how that ended.”

Pain flooded Giles, but he managed to hide his feelings. Concentrating very hard on the thought that Angelus was in hell – sent there by his grand-childe and not Buffy as they had originally thought – he tried to bring his mind to the matter at hand. This was Spike, not Angel. The killer of two Slayers. It shouldn’t have taken such a debate.

“How do you know I’m not going to hurt anyone?”

It was the first time Oz had voiced his opinion, and the rare words made an impact on the assembled youth. Giles gazed at the boy, slightly worried that the young man had thoughts of this nature.

“It’s different,” Xander began, but Oz interrupted him right away.

“Is it?”

A genuine question, and for someone who didn’t know Oz as they did, it might have been difficult to know what Oz’s point was exactly. The fact that he had spoken at all, however, made it clear to all present.

Stalemate. Two in favor of dusting Spike, two against, and Giles still wasn’t any closer to making up his mind about it.

“Alright, I have taken enough of your time,” he said with a sigh. “Go home and enjoy the beginning of your vacation. I’ll see you tonight.”

There were unhappy murmurs. Giles wasn’t sure if they were about the prospect of patrol or the fact that he might decide without them, and he didn’t want to know either. He shouldn’t have tried to involve them in this matter or have accepted their help for patrols. Buffy was his Slayer, he was more than able to step in for her and should have. More able, certainly, than these children were. They had insisted, however, pledging their friendship to their absent peer in the only way they knew how. Giles was scared for them each time he patrolled with them and even more so when he suspected they did it without him. He admired them, in some way, but still thought they were naive. Yet, there was little he could do to prevent them from patrolling.

He managed to keep his thoughts on them and off Spike as he gathered some personal items and left the library. He would come back the next day, along with the rest of the staff, and properly clean out the building, although for the past week he had been taking home a few of the more dangerous items each night. Weapons hidden in a sport bag, ancient books carried in a cardboard box, anything to appear less suspicious. Still, he knew Snyder was keeping an eye on him, dropping hints that some staff members might not be back after the summer vacation. Giles ignored him, knowing quite well that the Council had ways to keep him employed at Sunnydale High. Hopefully, when it would be time to go back to school, Buffy would be back amongst them and his presence in the building would have some meaning again.

Once he reached his home, he couldn’t avoid the subject anymore. He couldn’t stand the idea of being in the flat with the vampire all day long now that school had ended.  He needed to either stake him or let him go. It shouldn’t have been so hard to make the choice. A soul shouldn’t have made such a difference, or made him pause in his duty. It was more than pause, actually. Giles was actually considering letting the vampire go. Even after what had happened and he couldn’t understand why. Was it because of Buffy? Because Spike had helped her, and she had not killed him? It was still difficult to believe that the vampire had agreed to a truce with her, almost as difficult as to believe that she had agreed also. He had Joyce Summers’ word on it though, so it had to be true.

With a sigh, he put water on the stove to brew tea. It was usually a stronger beverage he preferred when pondering Spike’s fate, but he needed to have a clear mind this time. As he grabbed a cup, his grip faltered and he dropped it. The porcelain shards all over the kitchen floor were a sudden and grim reminder that his hand wasn’t working as well as it used to and probably never would again. There was no mark on it, though, as he reassured himself by bringing his hand up in front of his face. The damage was inside, never to be seen by anyone, and yet he felt it very clearly.

Just as clearly as he remembered that day - the torture at Angelus’ hands, Spike’s complacent gaze. He had his answer. He had been an accomplice of Angelus and the soul didn’t change what or who he was. The porcelain crunched under his heels as he hastily walked through the kitchen and toward the bathroom, grabbing a stake on the way. As he walked in, Spike’s head was thrown back against the edge of the tub, and he was staring at the ceiling with the air of someone who was seeing more than what was there. He turned toward Giles, barely enough to look at him, and for the first time in weeks a smile touched his lips.

“Finally going to do it?” he commented, emotionless. “It’s about time.”

It was the same voice all over again.  The same ‘I couldn’t care less’ tone Spike had used when he had advised Angelus not to kill Giles that fateful night.  Yet, this time, Giles could suddenly understand better than he had ever wanted. The vampire cared now, just as he had cared back then. There was a reason why he had talked Angelus out of killing him, that reason being Buffy and the deal he had made with her. And despite the affectation, despite what he was pretending, despite the fact that he would probably not try to protect himself if Giles approached and struck, he didn’t want to be dusted now.

“Tell me one thing, vampire,” the Watcher said coldly as he considered his unlikely guest. “What would you do if I were to decide to let you go?”

Surprise did not even begin to describe Spike.

“Let me go?” he repeated. “Why would you?”

Why, indeed, was the question.

“Didn’t you ever think that you’ve been cursed for a purpose?” he replied. “Maybe you have a role to play in the grand plan of things. Maybe you can do enough good to balance whatever…”

A burst of laughing interrupted him. A very sad, depressing kind of laugh.

“Do enough good to balance the scales? Do you have any idea how deeply the scales are leaning right now? Do you have any fucking clue who I am? What I’ve done? What I am capable of?”

Incredulity was tinted by bitterness and anger. It sounded a lot like Spike had indeed thought of all that, but had reached the conclusion it would be too hard.

“No, not really,” Giles replied calmly. “I do not know what you are capable of today. Yes, I know what you did, what you were. But right now, all I see is a demon who is being given a chance to redeem his soul, and seems too scared to even try.”

“’M not scared,” the vampire muttered sulkily and started a new round of brooding.

Giles sighed, and after a small shake of his head, he returned to his tea. He would call Mrs. Summers and offer a desinvite spell on her house and tell the children on patrol. Then, he’d let Spike go.


I wasn’t sulky. And I very certainly wasn’t brooding. Get your facts straight, would you? Just because Giles thought I was doesn’t mean it was true. Got it? Good.

I was bloody scared, I can admit to that. Although you’d better not tell anyone I said as much.

As long as I was Giles’ not so unwilling prisoner, I didn’t have to make decisions about my life, didn’t have to make choices between what the soul asked and what the demon demanded, didn’t have to do anything at all except learn to take ownership of my guilt, and control it instead of letting it control me. When he decided to let me go, I wasn’t ready yet. I don’t think I would ever have been. So, scared. I’m man enough to admit it.

That evening, he went out, as he usually did, for patrol I suppose although he left early. He had called Joyce, asked her to let him desinvite me from her house, and she had accepted. When he came back, he smelled of blood. His blood, and I realized he had been hurt. Not too badly, probably just a scratch, but still hurt. After weeks of him feeding me pig’s blood, it should have made me want to feed. It didn’t though. I think if I had been able to throw up, I might have. He didn’t say anything about that, didn’t say much of anything until the end, actually. He untied me, handed me my duster, and showed me to the door. Said something along the lines of hoping he wasn’t making a terrible mistake, and that I would pay very dearly if he were. Warned me that he was going to do the spell as soon as I was gone, so coming back was not in the cards. Finally told me that they could use the help on patrol, if I had nothing better to do. All of it in as few words as possible.

Confused doesn’t even begin to describe my state of mind.

Until then, I had been sure he’d eventually stake me, and it was only a matter of time. And I was OK with that. Really. If he had dusted me, I would have been free of my soul and that unnatural guilt, and an eternity of torment seemed rather attractive when compared to constant madness.

His little speech about redemption and doing good deeds was what confused me the most. I had entertained the idea of atonement, but not to the point of thinking what I did could really make a difference. It was more along the lines of, if I help him, the one person still left from that night, maybe I won’t feel as guilty about letting him be hurt. Which turned out to be wrong, by the way, because when I was finally able to answer his questions he appeared profoundly disappointed in my answers. No relief that way.

But the way he was saying it, it was more about making things even. Paying for the bad by playing for good. Balancing the scales. Completely different. Made it sound like I could make up for having slaughtered someone by saving someone else a hundred years later. Or several someones, I suppose, with the interest. The concept felt strange. Even today, I’m not convinced that’s how it works. It seemed too easy.

So, what does a souled vamp do when he regains his freedom? Not much, actually. I spent the night walking through Sunnydale, avoiding areas where people were, not sure of where to go and what to do. When sunrise became an issue, I honestly thought about waiting for it. And then, I realized I was close to the mansion. Went there without a second thought.

Acathla was still there, of course, and I spent a while simply standing in front of the stone, watching it as if, by staring long enough, I could make it open again for me. Safe enough to say it didn’t. Eventually, getting some rest began to seem like a good idea. I couldn’t get a foot in the master bedroom, intuitively knowing it smelled of both Angelus and Dru; and I couldn’t face that. The room I had taken for my own after Angelus moved in was also a no go – I had killed in there, a few times, when Dru had remembered to bring me takeout from her nights out. Takeout. Nice euphemism for humans, isn’t it?

Down the hall was a small room that we had never used. No bed, but after weeks of sleeping in a bathtub, it wasn’t really a problem. I scavenged the house for blankets, tackled one over the window, and wrapped myself in the others to sleep. Within an hour, I was back in the main room. Back to Acathla. I spent the day sitting in front of it, finally falling asleep at its feet.

Then it was night again, and, following a decades old habit, I went out. Again, without knowing where I was going. I was hungry, but the thought of feeding was nauseating. I ended up on Revello drive. I don’t really know why.

Joyce saw me. I’ve realized since that she was waiting for the Slayer, and looking through the window toward the street was something she did unconsciously. I wasn’t sure whether to run or get closer; but when she opened the door, I did the latter. I noticed she remained safely inside, out of harm’s way. Giles must have been adamant in his warnings.

She asked me how I was, and I didn’t have an answer. I was still getting used to it, to all of it. I told her I was sorry I couldn’t help her find her daughter, and she nodded. That was it. Nothing more to say. I was ready to get on my way, when a slip of a girl peeked at me from behind her mother and asked me if I was a good guy now, and if I was killing vampires.

That’s what I remember. I wonder how it really happened since Dawn wasn’t there. Did Joyce say something that the monks later changed to Dawn saying?  Something that gave me the weird idea that it would be easier to face up to the guilt if I knew at least one person believed in me? I often wondered why the monks gave the Bit and I such a history. Starting when Angelus decided to kidnap her and I faced him down and pointed out that it was the best way to piss off the Slayer until he gave up that silly notion, then meeting her when I came to offer a truce to her sister, and these few words that evening that changed my view on things.

I started lying to her that night, and then realized I couldn’t, and changed back to the truth. No, I wasn’t patrolling. Not yet. But I was planning to. I had decided five seconds before to do it, but it was planning, wasn’t it? She gave me a lopsided grin. I think she already had a bit of a crush on me.

Not to lie to her, I went patrolling after that, and discovered that staking vampires felt good for the soul. It was my intention to stay away from the Scoobies. I’m not sure why, maybe because they had known me evil, and I didn’t want to see them look at me like I was still something they ought to be wary of.

Of course, my plans never work, and this one didn’t either. It wasn’t long before I let myself be caught in their games. Not really reluctant, but still on my guard around them, just like they were. Slowly, they began to rely on me a little more. Not trust me, I don’t think it ever went that far, but… it felt good that they were at least giving me the benefit of doubt. Because when the Slayer came back, three months later, she didn’t.