Author's Notes: This is Spike-centric, he loves Buffy but she is not in this fic. Beta by the wonderful and glorious Spikeslovebite. The characters all belong to Joss.

Part One: Pride

HAINSLEY
Power over the dead. But enough about me. Let's talk about you. You're a ghost. Well, close enough, anyway. That's just a horrible way to be. You're not here, you're not there, just lost, somewhere in the middle. And you can't fight against it. You can't fix it. Hell, you can't even lift a finger, 'cause you simply don't have any.

SPIKE
Yeah. What's it to you?

HAINSLEY
I can give you back what's been taken from you—freedom, power of choice. I can put your destiny back in your own flesh-and-bone hands. That's right. A corporeal body. I can make that happen. But to do that, I need you to do something for me. Something that might require...

SPIKE
(excited)
Hurt Angel, that it? You want me to hurt Angel?
(grins devilishly)
You've come to the right ghost.

Transcript – Angel Season Five Episode Two: Just Rewards

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike smiled to himself. He felt better then he had since he’d appeared in Angel’s office. He had a plan to take down a big bad. Well, a little bad, but it looked like he was back in the hero business. Double-cross Hainsley, save the day, and perhaps he could talk that Fred bird into looking at his popping in and out of consciousness.

His steps faltered as he neared the office. He could hear the soft murmur of voices coming from the room. It sounded like they were discussing him.

He paused, listening as Wesley described him. “…with no control over his fate, not able to touch anything, affect anything. Unable to fight. Letting him cross over seems the most merciful thing”.

His eyes flashed with anger. How dare they! How could they, the arrogant pricks! They were sitting in Angel’s office, all high and mighty, calmly discussing killing him…well, sending him into oblivion.

He’d saved the world! Twice, if you counted Acathla. No, that wasn’t good enough for them, not even his soul would give them pause. The Powers to bloody Be brought him back, and Angel sits there calmly discussing his permanent oblivion.

His anger turned to full-blooded rage when he heard Angel agree to ‘take care’ of the problem.

He felt something break inside him, shatter, as he realized that Angel was actually going to do it. His grand-sire was going to kill him, regardless of saving the world, regardless of his soul, regardless that they didn’t even know why he was brought back. His final death was discussed and decided - all for their bloody convenience.

Taking an unneeded, but calming breath, Spike abandoned his plans. He was tired of being a pawn in a game he didn’t understand. He never got the girl, his family betrayed him, and the world seemed to abhor him. It was time he took matters into his own hands.

He would take that deal. Tomorrow he would start his new life as Angel. Not that he wanted to look like a bloody pounce, but it would only be temporary; only until he could figure out how to get his body back. It would be good to be a king.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike smiled as he watched the various expressions of shock, betrayal, and pain flicker over Angel’s face. It was the most expressive he had ever seen his grand-sire.

Hainsley was effectively killing Angel. The soul and demon were being stripped from the body and sent into oblivion. And it was a one-way trip.

There would be no summoning of Angel’s essence, return of his slippery soul, or the demon’s reemergence. Both would be gone. Forever. And no one would be the wiser.

Spike would take control of Angel’s body. Just long enough to give him power over Wolfram and Hart, return the necromancer’s money and accounts, take the pretty cars for a spin, call Buffy and Dawn and tell them about ‘Spike’s’ return and subsequent disappearance. After a month or so, Spike would return and Angel would go out for a walk and never be seen again.

He felt a twinge of guilt, but he shoved it aside. If he didn’t go along with this insane plan, Angel would have him killed. It was simple. Besides he couldn’t wait to teach the pillock a final lesson, about betraying his family. He was always too proud and too selfish for his own good.

Searing pain ripped through him. It burned. More than the return of his soul, more than his fiery demise in the hell mouth. It was agony.

He looked down. “It worked.”

A part of him hadn’t believed he could go through with it. Angel was gone forever. Ice formed around his heart. Spike had never felt more like a demon. He should have known that it would take a soul to bring out true cruelty.

His sire would be proud.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part Two: Lust

The first week in the body was fun. So many pleasures of the flesh denied to him during his stint as a ghost. He wanted to touch, to feel, to drink, and be merry - but not too merry, as that would raise suspicions.

He hid away from Angel’s friends while at the same time hitting the town under the excuse of helping the hopeless. Or whatever that stupid motto used to be.

It was strange getting use to the body. To the way it moved. He quickly gave up the idea of dancing. It was too big and bulky to get use to. Silent and broody worked for the chicks though. They all fell at his feet. It would have made him sick if he hadn’t wanted to feel so much.

The women were his for the taking. And he took quite often and frequently, but never small and blonde.

‘I really should call Buffy’

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part Three: Gluttony

The second week in Angel’s body was beautiful. The glorious amount of money and power he commanded was addicting. He could have everything with a comment and a wave of his hand.

He had never experienced so much fine alcohol and foods in his life. Hell, his ice cubes were made exclusively of SuperNariwa water. He could have everything…but his body back.

It truly was a one way deal, he discovered. Yes Angel was dead, but so was Spike.

It haunted him.

Who was he now?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part Four: Envy

The body was itchy. Nothing that Spike could scratch or even point to… it just felt wrong. It didn’t move right, didn’t feel right. Although it made a warped sort of sense; you spent a century-plus feeling at home in your skin, and then you jump ship.

He wondered if anyone would notice if he dyed his hair. Just because Angel didn’t have a true sense of style, why should he suffer? Of course, the one time he brought out the leather pants they started to call him Angelus and panic. He couldn’t have that, so he explained it was for a client meeting. They even fell for it.

He would have to be more careful.

Living in Angel’s body was strange.

There was the haunting sensation that something was wrong: a feeling of guilt, of remorse, knowing that his Sire was gone forever. A sense of nervousness, always expecting to be uncovered… and he was pretty sure that Eve chick had an idea that something was different.

But it was more then that. It was this sense of envy. Jealous that Angel had friends - that these people would follow him into hell if he asked them.

It wasn’t right. Angel had done nothing to deserve their devotion, while as Spike, he had gotten a soul, saved the world twice, and received only a kick in the head.

No one bothered to ask where Spike had gone, or expressed any regret, remorse, or interest in his fate.

Yet Angel couldn’t wear freaking leather pants without being smothered in fear and concern.

It wasn’t right.

And another piece of his soul froze over.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part Five: Sloth

He laughed; a short bark and quite humorless.

He shouldn’t have called. No one home in Rome. No one disturbed by the arrival and disappearance of a ghost. Finally after a week of messages, a simple comment seared him to the bone: “Call if you find him.”

Nothing more, nothing less. So why did it hurt so much?

No one cared about Spike being unseen. “It was for the best”, they said. Rome and Los Angels agreed.

He was haunted by their slight dismissals, driven by his pain.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it all. The cars, the women hidden from the groupies’ view, the penthouse, the sunshine after a century of dark.

He understood why Sloth was called the first sin of sadness.

It was hollow. Everything he had lived for, everything he accomplished. It was worthless. Apathy, depression, and joylessness – he knew them well.

And once again he wondered about walking into the sun.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part Six: Greed

Was it too much to want his body back? He knew he couldn’t have it, but it wasn’t fair! Everything he had done was for self-preservation. He never thought he would be stuck like this for all eternity.

He had forever, yet no one would know who he truly was. No one would remember Spike, would miss him, hell no one even cared that he disappeared.

Everyone just wanted to please Angel. To make him happy.

No matter the whim, no matter how outrageous the plan Spike created, people had questioned him. Now as Angel, he had everything… and it was driving him mad.

Hell, he had even given himself a pay raise. Doubled what he was making.

They all smiled and nodded.

He could do no wrong.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part Seven: Wrath

It wasn’t fair.

He hated this body, hated that no one cared, hated everyone who was Angel’s friend.

Hated himself for taking Angel’s life.

Hating everyone for the fact that no one noticed.

They would notice him now. They had to…

Spike walked into the daylight and felt the warmth bathe his face.

This was one plan that couldn’t fail.

He smiled.

Oblivion wouldn’t be so bad.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Across town, Hainsley felt the passing of one touched by his magics and he laughed.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Some demons were not created for vice.

~Fini