As she sipped on her drink and observed the new Slayer in town make nice with her friends, Buffy tried very hard not to compare her to Kendra. Thinking of Kendra would only bring back painful memories, and she wished she could have a nice evening for once. Or as nice as possible.

Buffy also tried to smile. She really was trying. But it was getting harder and harder as Faith drew all the attention and made Buffy feel like a loser. No, she didn’t have stories about wrestling alligators naked to save a busload of monks from vampires, or whatever it was that Faith was explaining in graphic details. All she had was how the Master had killed her, and how a vampire had saved the world in her place by sending her lover to hell.

No. Not her lover. Not Angel. Angelus. Why was it so hard to remember that? Why was it so difficult, when she saw that scene play in her mind again, to think of Angel as her enemy? Was it because she hadn’t been the one holding the sword? Would it have been easier if she had done it, if she had cut that last link herself? Now that she was back, it sometimes felt even more difficult, because she knew the soul curse had worked; knew they could have avoided all of that mess if they had only…

“Hot vamp at the bar. You’re taking him, B, or you want me to do him?”

There was something in the way Faith said these last words that Buffy didn’t like at all. It sounded too much like she had something very different from slaying in mind. After seeing the way she had flirted on the dance floor earlier with that vamp before going out to stake him and hearing her remarks about slaying making her horny, it was all too clear what the subtext was.

However, before she could voice her opinion, Willow jumped in.

“Oh, that’s Spike. You can’t dust Spike. I mean, you could I suppose, because he’s a vampire, but we don’t stake him. He kinda helps us. He has a soul. I gave him a soul.”

All of it was delivered in one long rush that left Willow slightly breathless but grinning proudly and Faith obviously curious. Saying more however would raise questions about the other souled vampire the gang had known, and Buffy wasn’t up to that quite yet.

“I’ll see what he's doing here,” Buffy said quickly, more glad than she would have admitted at having an excuse to get away from Faith for a little while. It was nice to have help on the slaying front, but Faith was a bit… overwhelming.

As she approached the bar, Buffy watched Spike’s back tensing; no doubt, he knew she was there. He didn’t turn to look at her, nor did he spare a glance in her direction when she leaned against the bar next to him.

“What are you doing here, Spike?” she asked without preamble.

“Having a drink,” he replied with a sneer as he tapped his fingernails on the beer bottle in front of him. “Thought that was obvious.”

“And I thought it was obvious this is a place for humans,” she hissed, low enough that no one but him would hear her. “Why don’t you go to Willy’s or wherever your kind meets? And if you dust a few of them while you’re there, even better.”

She still wasn’t comfortable with the idea that he had patrolled all summer long with her friends and was glad that he hadn’t turned up to patrol with her since she had come back. Didn’t mean, however, that she would forbid him to stake a few of his kind.

“M not so welcome at Willy’s anymore,” he retorted dryly after emptying half his bottle. “Might have something to do with the fact that I’m doing a better job of ridding this town of demons than you are. Lost your touch while you were gone, Slayer. Such a pity.”

The taunting in his voice was clear, and her fingers itched to grab the stake tucked into her pants’ waistband and prove him that her ‘touch’ was perfectly fine, thanks for asking. Something else was clear. She had been completely right for warning the Scoobies that the soul didn’t make a difference. He had been pretending all summer; and now that she was back, he had given up on the game. Of course, that meant Angel had been pretending all along too, and somehow that made things a little easier to bear. It was easier to imagine he had never really loved her than to believe she had had his love and then been the reason why he had changed so much.

“Hey B, you gonna introduce me?”

Swallowing the nasty come back she wanted to snarl, she half turned to Faith

“Introduce you? Sure. Faith, this is Spike. Also known as William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers. Be sure not to get too close to him and become his third one, OK?”

If Faith heard the warning, she showed no trace of taking it seriously. As Spike turned to look at her, her gaze traveled over him appreciatively.

“Spike, is it?” she said with a too bright smile. “Mind telling me how you got that name?”

For a few seconds, Spike simply observed her, and Buffy felt very much like warning them both about curses and happiness loopholes. Eventually, he looked back at Buffy, completely ignoring the brunette Slayer.

“Where are you patrolling tonight?” he asked pointblank.

The question took her by surprise, and she frowned.

“Why do you want to know? I don’t need a lapdog trailing…”

“I want to know so I’ll be sure not to cross path with you,” he interrupted abruptly. “I’d rather stake myself than patrol with you.”

“Oh, but that can be arranged very easily.”

She was seconds from doing it, and she was certain it had to show on her face. All he did, however, was shake his head.

“Promises, promises, luv. If you finally decide to do it, I’m at the mansion. I’m sure you remember where that is.”

Pushing his way between Faith and Buffy, he left; and only then did Buffy realize he was wearing his black duster. The gang had mentioned that he wasn’t wearing it anymore as one of the many signs of how he had changed. For her, it was just one more proof that he was the same Spike he had been before the soul.


From the kitchen, Buffy was throwing nasty glances at their guest in the dining room, and Joyce suppressed a sigh. It might have been a good thing that her daughter had never had any sibling, because the rivalry would have aged their mom prematurely.

Joyce was quite happy that a new Slayer was in town. It meant that Buffy wouldn’t carry that burden alone, and would have more time for school and things girls her age did. Faith seemed to enjoy being the Slayer, so it was all for the good. Or rather, it would be if Buffy didn’t rip the girl to shreds for eating her fries. A distraction was needed.

“Oh, honey, have you seen Spike lately?”

The reaction was instantaneous. Buffy’s gaze left Faith and swung back on Joyce.

“Spike? Why do you ask?”

Joyce tried to be casual in her answer. She suspected that this might not have been the best diversion after all.

“Well, he used to come and keep me company while you were gone. But he hasn’t been back since the zombie night. So I was wondering if he was alright.”

Buffy blinked twice, as she looked incredulously at Joyce.

“You do realize he’s a vampire, right?” she said slowly.

“Of course I realize that. I never invited him in until the other night. But with the soul…”

“Mom, please, don’t make the same mistake I did.”

There was something behind the pleading that surprised Joyce. Could Buffy really believe…

“Oh, it’s not like that at all!” she said with a soft smile and reached to take her daughter’s hand. “We’re just friends, nothing more. I needed to talk while you were… away, and so did he, and that’s all, really. Besides, he’s way too young for me anyway.”

Even as she let out the last words, she realized that it would sound to Buffy as if she had thought about the possibility, which she truthfully hadn’t. Buffy, however, didn’t pick up on it.

“That only proves that appearances are deceiving,” she said very seriously. “Mom, he’s decades older than you. Not younger.”

Joyce frowned, before finally nodding. “It’s strange, I know that, but I keep thinking of him as being no older than you. He’s so lost and he needs friends to help him believe he’s doing the right thing despite what happened before…”

She stopped herself before adding that he reminded her of Buffy. Her daughter however seemed to follow her train of thought, and looked confused.

“Well, if you see him, can you tell him he’s still welcome to come by and talk if he wants to?”


Patrol had been uneventful, and Spike headed home. The posturing with Buffy had exhausted him. Why was it so difficult to act out as if he was fine when she was around? Why did he feel like she could see straight through the act while the others didn’t? Was it because she had been the one pointing out how much like Angel he had been acting? Was it because the soul made no difference to her? He was still determined to prove to her – prove to all of them – that he was himself, not a carbon copy of the brooding wonder. But it was hard. Harder than he would have thought.

Something else that was hard was to let go of his daily self-mortification sessions in front of Acathla. Angel would have done that, so he wouldn’t do it anymore. In any case, it didn’t help in the slightest to repress the voices in his head continuously only to let them surface once a day. He was on his way to finding a balance, and Acathla was not a part of it. Maybe he ought to ask Giles to rid him of the thing. Or do it himself.

Despite his intentions, he couldn’t help looking at the stone as he walked in. He immediately froze.

At the foot of the statue, laying on the floor and shivering, was his grandsire.

After staring at him for what felt like decades, Spike cautiously approached the brunet. Scurrying away and snarling was the only answer Spike received when calling out his grandsire’s name. Too many questions filling his mind, Spike sank down on the floor a few feet from the crouching vampire, seeing only himself, as he had been a few months back. Was the older vampire souled too? Was it why he was acting like this?

The question was answered the first time their gazes met. It was Angelus, not Angel.



Of course, it’s easy to say in hindsight, but there was something about Faith that made me itch the first time I saw her. She felt different from the Slayer, like night and day. Although she is a slayer too, isn’t she? My theory is that she’d have made a better job of it if she had been the only Slayer, but who cares about the whys? She arrived in Sunnydale and made an impression on all of us; a better impression on some than on others. For me, it was… well, I’m not sure. She made me uncomfortable. If I hadn’t had a soul, I would have killed her before Buffy, just so I wouldn’t have had to deal with her. Maybe I saw too much of myself in her. Too many masks, too much insecurity hiding behind bravado.

The night after our first meet-up, I saw both of them fight. I didn’t jump in, because I didn’t feel like my intervention was needed or wanted, but the show was… interesting. With the blonde, it was all business. Stake to the heart as soon as possible. The brunette however… She pummeled her vamp until he was probably unconscious, and even then it didn’t seem to be enough. I know Buffy didn’t like it. They… we should have guessed that it would lead to problems eventually. The not so fun little meeting with Trick and that other vamp who wanted Faith dead more than anything should have been enough of a warning. None of us saw it however, not until it was too late. But, you’ll get to that later, won’t you?

Right then. You can go on with the story.

No. I don’t have anything to say about Angelus. Why would I?

Fuck. Can’t you let it drop?

I took him in, alright? Is that what you want to hear me say? I knew it was Angelus and not his souled twin from the instant I saw him, and I still took him in. Hell, he was so broken… Maybe killing him would have been a kindness at that point. Definitely would have made things a lot easier later on, for Buffy, for me, for us. Still, I didn’t stake him. Not sure why to this day. I like to believe it was the soul. After all, a few months before I had had no problem at the idea of helping the Slayer get rid of him. So, it had to be the soul deciding not to stake him. Easier to think it was.

I guess part of me was hoping it would be a sane version of the Angelus I knew this time. Boy, was I ever wrong…Or maybe… Maybe even then, in these first instants when I saw him on the floor, I was already thinking that the little witch could restore his soul. Maybe I was hoping that having someone like me would make things easier. Maybe I had questions for him, or needed to finally yell at him for running off with his soul without telling Dru and me what had happened. Maybe. Who knows?

I cleaned him, aching at the cuts and bruises that covered him. I fed him pig’s blood, and even though he grimaced, he drank it all. He must have been famished. Then, I hesitated. Angelus, not Angel. Still not looking so strong on the side of sanity. Staring at me as if he wasn’t too sure I was really there, really helping him. I guess it’s understandable, seeing how the last time we had met, I had run him through with a sword and sent him to hell. In the end, I chained him. I had to get into his old bedroom to get the chains, and wasn’t that fun; but I didn’t see another solution. I couldn’t simply let him roam free, and I couldn’t even consider staking him.

I chained him in the main room, where I would see him every fucking time I walked by. Where he could see me, follow me with his eyes, a bit stronger each day, snarling and growling at first, biting words later on. I should have put him somewhere else, maybe. I should have staked him, probably. I should have… hell, I don’t know. I didn’t, and that’s it, no reason to dwell on it.