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Lost Soul. Chapter 7.
Almost at the end...
‘Lost Soul’ summary: Spike loses his soul AtS S5. Some wackiness ensues...
Previous chapters here
Chapter 7
The Viper tore through the night, its speed more to do with anger than urgency. The silence hung heavily inside the car - the vampires had not spoken since the argument in the car pool. Spike hated being driven... he felt bored and trapped, but Angel had been more immovable than a granite rock. Had stated very simply that he didn’t trust Spike not to take off into the blue yonder, and if Spike was so eager to get his soul back, he’d suffer a few hours in a car with Angel. Or he could go in the van with the small team - there should be plenty of room.
Spike knew when not to press a fight, but it still left him mightily pissed off. What the hell did Angel think he’d hung around for all day - why come and ask for help in the first place if he didn’t intend to go through with it? Why sit in hour-long stupendously boring research sessions for Fred’s sake if he didn’t care for her or the rest of them? Not that anything had been resolved on that front yet, but at least they’d transferred the spell from Fred to Pavayne, so if something happened she was no longer in danger. The sarcophagus was locked up and Angel’s team was currently busy finding every worshipper of Illyria that Knox knew of. When Gunn had found out the details of the case, he’d suggested going to see the conduit - the Senior Partners would probably not relish a Hell God rising. “Might as well make use of them!” Angel had shrugged, before making his way down to the parking lot.
And now they were on their way to Las Vegas... thanks to Wolfram & Hart’s contacts, they even knew the number of Ethan’s hotel room. Spike had been ready to set off by himself, but Angel had insisted on coming along - as well as a team that could arrest the man and take him back to LA. Spike despaired at the complexity of it all - of the whole law firm set up actually. How Angel could stand it, he couldn’t fathom. And this last day... oh, this last day had been frustrating beyond words and yet freeing. The easy enjoyment of violence and fear had been incredible, the iron vice of the soul no longer strapping him down. All the hoops and conventions of everyday life had felt like treacle, nearly making him scream in frustration by the end. And it would be so easy - so very, very easy to just slip away. To be free again, free of guilt and pain and duty... to go back to taking anything he wanted. A whole life - or unlife - at his fingertips.
And yet he stayed. He wasn’t the same vampire who’d lived to smash and bash and bleed. Who was he any more - who would he be if he went away? Just another soulless killer, albeit with more of a reputation than most. But he knew that happiness wasn’t in the fight or the kill, bliss not in the quenching of thirst from an unfortunate human. There was so much more out there - a bigger world, a bigger picture, something worth fighting for. He wanted to be a man and to make a difference; wanted respect, not fear. And more than anything he wanted back what was his. As a vampire he knew that nothing was really his - a painful lesson Angelus had taught him long, long ago - but he had defied his grandsire in this respect. The soul was his! He’d fought for it, earned it, paid for it every day since. And the fact that someone had dared to take it - to take what was his and only his - infuriated him more than he could explain. He knew that he’d taken a good deal of it out on poor little Knox, but the kid would have killed Fred, so he didn’t think that the soul would chide him too much over it later... and it had felt so good to scare the boy - a delicious pleasure that he’d savoured all the more, knowing that it would soon be impossible again.
He sighed and stared out the window. How long now? They’d already driven for 3 hours and if they didn’t get there soon he might have to knock Angel out and take the steering wheel for himself. At least the traffic was minimal at this hour, so it shouldn’t be too much longer. But still there was nothing to do except think. Trying to remember the original soul-quest he was surprised at how hazy it seemed. So much despair and rage. But purpose... an iron resolve to change for good - to be good enough for once. And what had he got out of it? A flamey death and a shared prophecy. But... he had also been given Buffy’s trust and respect. He’d found something that might be a vocation working alongside Angel and his friends - friends who’d accepted him. No, he didn’t want to be just another evil, soulless thing. He wanted more!
Finally they arrived. And Spike had to admit that the CEO thing paid off, since doors were opened and people deferentially ushered them in the right direction. So much easier than having to fight your way through. Soon they were standing outside Ethan’s door. It would be another couple of hours before the sun rose, but listening at the door, they could hear the TV murmuring. Angel had ordered the team to stay by the van - they wouldn’t be needed yet.
Suddenly smiling at each other, the vampires reached out and knocked on the door. After repeating the action a few times, they heard a sleepy “Come in!”. Spike suppressed a chuckle and entered, taking inordinate pleasure in seeing Ethan’s face freeze in recognition. Then the man noticed Angel and confusion mixed with fear.
“To... to what do I owe this... pleasure?” he asked, trying to put on a display of cockiness that misfired rather badly when Angel walked over, picked him up and slammed him against the wall.
“I believe that you are in possession of something of mine.” Spike drawled. “Namely one soul! Would you be so kind as to tell me where it is?”
Ethan stared at him flabbergasted: “You - you want it back? But aren’t you enjoying the wonderful freedom I gave you?”
Spike smiled and he could see Ethan shudder at the sight. “Oh the freedom was wonderful - only you miscalculated slightly. You see - I got my soul back on my own and I’m rather fond of it. Also I’m quite good friends with my old grandsire here, who as it happens is now the CEO of LA’s branch of Wolfram & Hart... he was very helpful and tracked you down ever so quickly!”
Ethan tried to turn his head and look at Angel, but soon gave up. “I... I don’t understand!” he croaked out.
“Oh, there’ll be lots of time to explain later. For now I want you to answer my first question: Where is my soul?”
He let his eyes flicker gold and Ethan nearly stammered in his eagerness to help: “It’s in my suitcase in the bedroom - in... in a jar.”
”A Muo-Ping” Angel said. “They kept mine in one of those too.”
Ethan made a strange grimace, worried and rather embarrassed. “Well, I was in a bit of a hurry and didn’t have a Muo-Ping handy, so, um, I used a pickle jar instead!”
Spike, whose hand had been on the doorknob, turned round in outrage: “You put my soul in a pickle-jar?”
Panicking at the look on Spike’s face, Ethan tried to explain: “I enchanted it first! And it was very good Branston Pickle - I found it in a little British food shop in LA a few days ago. I’ve been in Asia for a very long time without any kind of English food at all...”
Spike took a deep, unneeded breath and clamped down solidly on his urge to hit the man. Instead he went into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. He vaguely heard Angel saying something, but he didn’t listen as he opened the suitcase on the floor. After moving a few shirts out of the way, he saw it! He hadn’t realised that it would shine, but he stared at the jar mesmerised as it lit up his face in the dark room. It looked like fiery smoke, weaving and twirling, almost dancing.
“Effulgent,” he whispered, as he slowly reached out...
Chapter 8
‘Lost Soul’ summary: Spike loses his soul AtS S5. Some wackiness ensues...
Previous chapters here
The Viper tore through the night, its speed more to do with anger than urgency. The silence hung heavily inside the car - the vampires had not spoken since the argument in the car pool. Spike hated being driven... he felt bored and trapped, but Angel had been more immovable than a granite rock. Had stated very simply that he didn’t trust Spike not to take off into the blue yonder, and if Spike was so eager to get his soul back, he’d suffer a few hours in a car with Angel. Or he could go in the van with the small team - there should be plenty of room.
Spike knew when not to press a fight, but it still left him mightily pissed off. What the hell did Angel think he’d hung around for all day - why come and ask for help in the first place if he didn’t intend to go through with it? Why sit in hour-long stupendously boring research sessions for Fred’s sake if he didn’t care for her or the rest of them? Not that anything had been resolved on that front yet, but at least they’d transferred the spell from Fred to Pavayne, so if something happened she was no longer in danger. The sarcophagus was locked up and Angel’s team was currently busy finding every worshipper of Illyria that Knox knew of. When Gunn had found out the details of the case, he’d suggested going to see the conduit - the Senior Partners would probably not relish a Hell God rising. “Might as well make use of them!” Angel had shrugged, before making his way down to the parking lot.
And now they were on their way to Las Vegas... thanks to Wolfram & Hart’s contacts, they even knew the number of Ethan’s hotel room. Spike had been ready to set off by himself, but Angel had insisted on coming along - as well as a team that could arrest the man and take him back to LA. Spike despaired at the complexity of it all - of the whole law firm set up actually. How Angel could stand it, he couldn’t fathom. And this last day... oh, this last day had been frustrating beyond words and yet freeing. The easy enjoyment of violence and fear had been incredible, the iron vice of the soul no longer strapping him down. All the hoops and conventions of everyday life had felt like treacle, nearly making him scream in frustration by the end. And it would be so easy - so very, very easy to just slip away. To be free again, free of guilt and pain and duty... to go back to taking anything he wanted. A whole life - or unlife - at his fingertips.
And yet he stayed. He wasn’t the same vampire who’d lived to smash and bash and bleed. Who was he any more - who would he be if he went away? Just another soulless killer, albeit with more of a reputation than most. But he knew that happiness wasn’t in the fight or the kill, bliss not in the quenching of thirst from an unfortunate human. There was so much more out there - a bigger world, a bigger picture, something worth fighting for. He wanted to be a man and to make a difference; wanted respect, not fear. And more than anything he wanted back what was his. As a vampire he knew that nothing was really his - a painful lesson Angelus had taught him long, long ago - but he had defied his grandsire in this respect. The soul was his! He’d fought for it, earned it, paid for it every day since. And the fact that someone had dared to take it - to take what was his and only his - infuriated him more than he could explain. He knew that he’d taken a good deal of it out on poor little Knox, but the kid would have killed Fred, so he didn’t think that the soul would chide him too much over it later... and it had felt so good to scare the boy - a delicious pleasure that he’d savoured all the more, knowing that it would soon be impossible again.
He sighed and stared out the window. How long now? They’d already driven for 3 hours and if they didn’t get there soon he might have to knock Angel out and take the steering wheel for himself. At least the traffic was minimal at this hour, so it shouldn’t be too much longer. But still there was nothing to do except think. Trying to remember the original soul-quest he was surprised at how hazy it seemed. So much despair and rage. But purpose... an iron resolve to change for good - to be good enough for once. And what had he got out of it? A flamey death and a shared prophecy. But... he had also been given Buffy’s trust and respect. He’d found something that might be a vocation working alongside Angel and his friends - friends who’d accepted him. No, he didn’t want to be just another evil, soulless thing. He wanted more!
Finally they arrived. And Spike had to admit that the CEO thing paid off, since doors were opened and people deferentially ushered them in the right direction. So much easier than having to fight your way through. Soon they were standing outside Ethan’s door. It would be another couple of hours before the sun rose, but listening at the door, they could hear the TV murmuring. Angel had ordered the team to stay by the van - they wouldn’t be needed yet.
Suddenly smiling at each other, the vampires reached out and knocked on the door. After repeating the action a few times, they heard a sleepy “Come in!”. Spike suppressed a chuckle and entered, taking inordinate pleasure in seeing Ethan’s face freeze in recognition. Then the man noticed Angel and confusion mixed with fear.
“To... to what do I owe this... pleasure?” he asked, trying to put on a display of cockiness that misfired rather badly when Angel walked over, picked him up and slammed him against the wall.
“I believe that you are in possession of something of mine.” Spike drawled. “Namely one soul! Would you be so kind as to tell me where it is?”
Ethan stared at him flabbergasted: “You - you want it back? But aren’t you enjoying the wonderful freedom I gave you?”
Spike smiled and he could see Ethan shudder at the sight. “Oh the freedom was wonderful - only you miscalculated slightly. You see - I got my soul back on my own and I’m rather fond of it. Also I’m quite good friends with my old grandsire here, who as it happens is now the CEO of LA’s branch of Wolfram & Hart... he was very helpful and tracked you down ever so quickly!”
Ethan tried to turn his head and look at Angel, but soon gave up. “I... I don’t understand!” he croaked out.
“Oh, there’ll be lots of time to explain later. For now I want you to answer my first question: Where is my soul?”
He let his eyes flicker gold and Ethan nearly stammered in his eagerness to help: “It’s in my suitcase in the bedroom - in... in a jar.”
”A Muo-Ping” Angel said. “They kept mine in one of those too.”
Ethan made a strange grimace, worried and rather embarrassed. “Well, I was in a bit of a hurry and didn’t have a Muo-Ping handy, so, um, I used a pickle jar instead!”
Spike, whose hand had been on the doorknob, turned round in outrage: “You put my soul in a pickle-jar?”
Panicking at the look on Spike’s face, Ethan tried to explain: “I enchanted it first! And it was very good Branston Pickle - I found it in a little British food shop in LA a few days ago. I’ve been in Asia for a very long time without any kind of English food at all...”
Spike took a deep, unneeded breath and clamped down solidly on his urge to hit the man. Instead he went into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. He vaguely heard Angel saying something, but he didn’t listen as he opened the suitcase on the floor. After moving a few shirts out of the way, he saw it! He hadn’t realised that it would shine, but he stared at the jar mesmerised as it lit up his face in the dark room. It looked like fiery smoke, weaving and twirling, almost dancing.
“Effulgent,” he whispered, as he slowly reached out...
Chapter 8
Feedback from Edelweiss
(Anonymous) 2008-05-26 01:17 pm (UTC)(link)No, he didn’t want to be just another evil, soulless thing. He wanted more! Once again, very well written, Spike's reasoning makes perfect sense; the soul is his!!! He worked for it!
“You - you want it back? But aren’t you enjoying the wonderful freedom I gave you?” Poor confused Ethan! And Spike's rebuttal is perfect too :-)
a pickle-jar? Poor old Spike :-) He never has anything easy ... the indignity of it all :-) A truly excellent moment :-)
He hadn’t realised that it would shine ... “Effulgent,” he whispered Very evocative and very well written :-) Another excellent chapter! Now on to the aftermath (and resolving the Illyria problem?) :-)
Edelweiss
Re: Feedback from Edelweiss
Thank you. And I wanted to show that there *was* a conflict, and why he acted the way he did. (I love writing Spike. Have I mentioned that before? *g*)
Poor confused Ethan! And Spike's rebuttal is perfect too :-)
Poor Ethan indeed. Vampires can be such illogical creatures.
a pickle-jar? Poor old Spike :-) He never has anything easy ... the indignity of it all :-) A truly excellent moment :-)
I can't even remember how I thought of it, but I'm so pleased I did! And turning the sublime into the ridiculous is always fun!
Feedback from Edelweiss
(Anonymous) 2008-06-13 06:24 pm (UTC)(link)And you do such a very good job of it too ... please keep on writing him :-)
turning the sublime into the ridiculous is always fun
Eureka moments are few and far between, but this was one of them :-)
Edelweiss