a/n - thanks for the reviews! And thanks to my wonderful beta, Kat : )

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Chapter Four

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Hunger, denial, rage, and confusion ripped at Spike. It was impossible. Absolutely impossible. A soul? Absolutely not. It was inconceivable. Absurd.

However, he couldn’t deny the foreign, warm feeling that now resided within his chest. But it couldn’t be possible. He wasn’t like the poof. He wasn’t suffering from overwhelming guilt; he wasn’t trying to repent for his past deeds. He didn’t feel remorse. If he had a soul, wouldn’t he be like his grandsire - aching with grief for being a cold-blooded killer for over a century, or some such rubbish? Why could he look back on his kills and conjure up feeling of nostalgia, rather than repulsion or regret? Sure, now he couldn’t kill because he was suddenly feeling compassion for his would-be victims … but if he had a soul, why didn’t he feel any regret for his past actions?

The only answer was that he didn’t have a soul.

But doubt niggled at him. And he knew of only one person - or rather one vampire - that would be able to tell him with certainty.

Spike knocked harshly on the door. A moment later it opened.

“Spike.”

“Grandsire.”

Angel’s human feature melted into hard ridges and sharp fangs. “What are you doing here?”

Spike swayed on his feet. His adrenaline rush was wearing off, and his hunger made it hard to concentrate. “I need to know what’s happened to me.”

Angel stared at his grandchilde for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “What?”

“Please … I need to know.”

Angel stared at him suspiciously. “What kind of game are you playing, Spike? Whatever it is, I’m not falling for it. I -”

Spike growled, his game face replacing his human features. “Shut up and look at me, you bloody moron!” His anger left him as quickly as it came. He stared at Angel, not caring if the older vampire could see the desperation in his eyes. “Can you sense anything? Anything that’s not supposed to … be.”

Grandsire and grandchilde, both in their demon faces, stared at each other. Angel blinked once, then twice. His eyes held Spike’s for several long moments as though searching for something. Angel’s eyes widened. Without realizing it, he reached out a hand towards the younger vampire.

“My god,” he breathed, awe coating his words, “You have a soul.”

The combination of stress, hunger, and every other emotion Spike had experienced in the last couple of days seemed to pile on him in that moment. He muttered, “Bloody hell” before passing out at his grandsire’s feet.

--

“Absolutely extraordinary,” Giles murmured. “How is this even possible?”

“That’s why I called you,” Angel said.

Giles blinked, tearing his gaze away from the platinum blonde vampire lying unconscious on Angel’s couch. “Right, right,” he said distractedly. “It could be a curse, like yours. But this Mahtiki business doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Mahtiki?”

Giles looked up over the rim of his glasses. “A deity that deals in souls, apparently. Spike said he met up with a couple Samduri demons.” At Angel’s quizzical look he continued, “Samduri demons are worshippers of Mahtiki. It seems Mahtiki uses them as a sort of passage way into our realm.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So, what you’re saying is that a god … Mahtiki … gave Spike a soul?”

The Watcher shrugged. “At the moment, I cannot say anything for sure.”

Angel glanced at his grandchilde, then back at Giles, disbelief still evident in his eyes. “Why would a god do this?”

Giles sighed. “I really have no idea. I think I have a couple of books in the library that have more information. I know I’ve read of Mahtiki somewhere else …” he trailed off taking off his glasses and scrubbed them with the edge of his shirt.

Angel nodded absently, his gaze returning to the younger vampire. “Why Spike?” Giles looked up at him. “I mean, why would a god give Spike a soul?”

Giles slid his glasses back on. “That is a question that I very much want to know the answer to, also.”

Angel paused, thinking a moment before standing. “I think he might need more blood.”

Giles watched the older vampire move into the kitchen and take out a packet of blood from the fridge. Slitting it open, Angel poured the thick red liquid into a mug.

“Do you think this is what you sensed through your line?”

Angel put the mug into the microwave and started it. He thought a moment before replying, “It must have been.”

“Did you ever think this could have been the cause?”

“No. It never crossed my mind.”

Giles looked at him, curiosity shining in his eyes. “So, vampires of the same family can sense large events that happen to their members, but they don’t always know what the cause is?”

The microwave beeped and Angel took out the mug. “It’s not that simple. If a member of a vampire’s family were to die, they would know that immediately. But if something like this happens,” he motioned to Spike’s unconscious form, “the cause is not always clear through the line. It really depends on the relationship between the family members. Dru might have known, being his sire.” Angel stuck a straw into the mug. “If Spike had a mate, she would have probably known exactly what happened the moment he got the soul.”

Giles stared in fascination at Angel. “Spike doesn’t have a mate?”

Angel’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Not for lack of trying.”

Giles opened his mouth to ask another question when a low groan came from the couch. Both Angel and Giles turned to Spike, and watched his eyes flutter open.

For a few moments Spike was disorientated. His brow crinkled in confusion as the last vestiges of sleep left him. Where was he? He turned his head, pinning his blue gaze on Giles and Angel. The events of the previous night flitted through his mind. He sat up, keeping his eyes on his grandsire and the Watcher.

“Are you feeling better?” Giles asked cautiously.

Spike ignored the question. He sniffed the air, his eyes locking on the mug Angel held. Angel, noticing his grandchilde’s stare, set it on the table in front of Spike. Spike eyed it warily, his nostrils flaring.

Angel arched an eyebrow. “We didn’t poison it. If we wanted to kill you, it would have been easier when you were unconscious.”

Needing no further prompting, Spike grabbed the mug. He sneered at the straw and tossed it on the table. Tipping the glass back, he took several long swallows. He wrinkled his nose at the taste. Coagulants. Of course Angel wouldn’t have anything on tap. Draining the glass, he licked his lips. His head was clearing, his vision sharpening.

Spike looked at the Watcher suspiciously. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Angel called me after you collapsed on his front step.” Giles studied Spike carefully. “He told me you had a soul.”

Spike flinched. The warm weight stretched out, licking his insides with feelings he didn’t want to decipher. He pushed it back. “Bollocks.”

Giles sat on the loveseat facing the couch. “Do you know what happened? How you got your soul? You mentioned the Samduri demons …”

Spike stood suddenly, his eyes flashing. “I don’t have a soul!”

Angel stepped forward. “Spike …”

Spike turned to his grandsire, growling, “You’re wrong. It’s not a bleedin’ soul. Don’t you think I would know if I had one?”

Angel’s jaw hardened. “Look, you can deny it all you want, but you’re drenched in it. I know you may not believe it right now - I sure didn’t when I got mine, but eventually …”

Spike cut him off, “This is nothing like you, Peaches. Nothing. This cannot be a bloody soul. You feel guilt, right? For the things you’ve done?”

Angel’s face closed off. “Every day.”

“I don’t!”

“What?”

Spike looked between the perplexed faces staring at him. “I feel nothing for what I’ve done. No remorse. No disgust. I don’t feel like soddin’ brooding!”

Angel and Giles stared at him. “But you have a soul,” Angel finally said. Giles looked at Angel, raising a questioning eyebrow. Angel frowned. “He has a soul. I can sense it all over him.”

Spike glared at his grandsire. “All I know is that ever since I met up with those Samduri blighters I have this … thing in me.” He thumped a hand on his chest. “And I can’t feed anymore.” Spike closed his eyes, disgust pouring out through his voice, “Because I feel bad.”

Giles stared up at Spike, enthralled. “How interesting - a souled vampire with no remorse except for his present actions. Almost like a blank slate.”

“Thanks, John Locke,” Spike said sarcastically. “I need to get this thing outta me.” He froze. The warm weight recoiled angrily, leaving behind sparks of sharp pain. He shuddered.

Angel reached out a hand towards Spike. “Are you alright?”

“It didn’t like that.” Spike groaned.

“It … knows that you don’t want it?”

Spike laughed without humor. “I’m thinking yes.”

Giles leaned forward. “You’re saying your soul has … separate feelings … a separate consciousness than your own?”

“If by that, you’re askin’ if it has its own ideas, tries control my emotions and whatnot, then yes.”

Giles asked, “Is your soul like that, Angel?”

Angel shook his head, studying Spike speculatively. “No. It doesn’t feel separate like that at all.”

Spike leaned back on the couch and moaned. “Isn’t this a right peach.”

Angel watched Spike. “Does Dru know what happened?”

Spikes eyes flashed gold. “Yes,” he bit out. “And she left.” He looked around. Grabbing his boots he tugged one on.

“Where are you going?” Giles asked.

“Where the hell do you think I’m going? To get this thing out.” He winced as his soul jabbed at him painfully.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

Spike pulled on his other boot. “Bloody hell, Watcher, yes! While the souled gig may work for peaches here, this is not my scene at all.”

Giles studied Spike thoughtfully for a moment. “What if I helped you … get rid of it?” Spike stopped tying his laces and looked up at him.

“Giles,” Angel said, surprised.

Giles ignored Angel, his eyes locked on Spike. “I’ll help you, if you do something for me.”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Giles smiled pleasantly. “If you let me study you, do some write-ups about you and your soul.” He paused, then, “I’ll help you get rid of it.”

Spike raised a scarred eyebrow. “You wanna study me?”

Giles nodded. “Yes.”

Spike stared at the Watcher skeptically. “You wanna study me … and then you’ll find a way to get rid of it?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Giles, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Angel muttered, slightly rebuking.

Spike stared at Giles. He really needed to get the soul (he inwardly shuddered at the word) out of him. Then he would be able to get Dru back. And getting Dru back was the only thing that really mattered. Spike was not stupid; he knew that as much as he denied it, the warm weight within his chest was his soul. He also knew the odds of finding anyone that would be able, or more importantly, willing, to help him get rid of it was poor at best. If Giles was willing to help him, far be it from him to refuse.

He’d snap the Watcher’s neck as soon as the … soul … was gone. So it was a win-win situation really. Spike frowned at the feeling of guilt that swept through him.

“Alright,” Spike said. “I’ll be your little project. But double cross me, Watcher, and soul or no soul, you’re dead.”

Giles visibly swallowed. “It never crossed my mind.”

Spike smiled coldly. “Good.”

--

Buffy entered the library. Spying Xander whittling stakes and Willow reading a book at one of the tables, she sat down with a large sigh. “Mr. Johansson is such a tool. I mean come on - I so deserved a better grade.”

“I absolutely agree. Total tool. The test cemented his major toolness.” Xander nodded sympathetically.

“I dunno, I didn’t think it was that bad.” Willow said.

“Oh hush, Ms. Smarty-pants, of course it was easy for you.” Buffy smiled, taking any bite out of her words.

“You got the best mark in class, didn’t you?” Xander dropped his finished stake on the growing pile. Willow flushed slightly.

“We could study after school on Monday. I’m more than willing to help … if you guys want,” Willow said earnestly.

Buffy inwardly sighed, feeling as though she was watching her free time disintegrate before her eyes. “I dunno, Will. I usually train after school.”

Willow shrugged. “After that then.”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Xander shot Buffy a look that said, ‘If I can’t get out of this, neither can you.’

Buffy let her head fall to the table. “I just want to forget the test ever happened. If I do, then I won’t have to show my mom. And then I won’t get grounded.” She propped her head up on one hand. “It’s too bad they don’t have vamp slaying classes. I’d ace those.”

Xander snickered. “And the rest of us would fail abysmally … ‘cause we’d all die.”

Buffy grinned. “Well, you guys -” she suddenly froze. Xander and Willow looked at her curiously. Buffy’s smile disappeared into a thin line. She stood abruptly, her face impassive.

“What’s wrong, Buffy?” Willow asked, staring at Buffy with wide, worried eyes.

Buffy was studying the library doors. Her eyes narrowed as though searching for something.

“Buffy?” Xander prompted.

Buffy blinked then looked back at her friends. “Vampires,” she said shortly. “I can sense them.”

“In the school?” Willow asked, her voice trembling a little.

Buffy only nodded in response. She unconsciously took a fighting stance. Every nerve in her body was on alert. “You guys stay here. I think I’d better go -”

She was cut off when the library doors swung open. Angel and Giles strode in having an obviously heated discussion. Following closely behind them was Spike. Xander and Willow shot up from their chairs, both grabbing one of the stakes Xander had been whittling.

“Giles!” Xander exclaimed, pointing with a jab of his stake, “Spike!”

“Wait!” Giles said sharply. “He’s not going to hurt anyone.”

Xander stepped forward. “What are you talking about?! Dangerous, blood-sucking, killing vampire right behind you.”

Giles took in a deep breath. “He has a soul,” he said calmly.

“Oh!” Willow gasped.

Xander gaped. “Oh come on! You gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s true. Spike has a soul,” Angel said seriously.

Xander stared between Giles and Angel incredulously. “You don’t believe this, do you, Buffy?” When she didn’t say anything Xander turned to her. “Buffy?”

But Buffy wasn’t listening. She was deathly pale and her breathing had accelerated. One of her hands came up to rub the flesh over her heart. Her eyes were wide and riveted to the blonde vampire.

Giles, Angel, Xander, and Willow all took steps towards her voicing concern, but Buffy didn’t see or hear any of them. All she saw was him.

Spike was fairing no better. The moment he had walked into the library and met her eyes, he was lost. Everything around him dissolved into meaningless noise. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. His soul was jubilant with euphoria. It was bubbling over with excitement and exuberant happiness – hundreds of emotions thundering through him. His soul expanded, suffusing Spike with overwhelming feelings.

Giles was the first to notice the connection. He looked between his slayer and the vampire. “Oh, dear,” he muttered.

Spike keened in the back of his throat. At that moment he desired nothing more than to grab Buffy, and cuddle her to him. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. It was a mistake. He could smell her. God. She smelled fantastic. Better than anything he could think of. He took an involuntary step towards her. Watching her, he could see the same confusion and distress he felt playing across her features as she took a step towards him.

“Buffy,” Giles said, taking her by the shoulders and firmly turning her to face him, subsequently tearing her eyes from Spike’s.

Spike blinked. He hurriedly backed away until he felt the library doors at his back. He almost … he had wanted to …god, what the hell was happening?

He looked back at Buffy but quickly looked away. He wanted her. He wanted her so much it frightened him. His hands trembled as he reached for the door.

“Spike,” Giles called out. “Spike don’t …”

But Spike had already slipped outside, the memory of her eyes burned into him.

--