Disclaimer: I own nothing.

AN: Post NFA. Spike reflects on his unlife bitterly while making plans of his own. I got a little brain dead at writing SW:KotOR fics so I thought I'd try my hand at another genre for a time... No promises. Bit of a peek inside Spike's head... if he grew a pair anyways. He was one of my favorite characters from Buffy and Angel and while he had some pretty big flaws, he was the most interesting and entertaining of the lot and I just flinch every time I watch season six and seven of BtVS.

Prologue: Hate versus Love

He'd thought love was the most powerful emotion anyone could feel, he'd made it his life, unlife from the moment he was sired. He gave everything he had and more for the hope of his love to be reciprocated, or in the worse points of his unlife acknowledged but they, the Scoobies and their soddin higher-than-thou ways refused to acknowledge the possibility. It was only after the soul, after a thoughtlessly worded wish to a demon shaman that he was struck with clarity. He'd done unspeakable things in the course of his time as a Vampire and it had only degraded more the longer he spent in the company of the Sunnydale crew. He'd thought the soul was his redemption, his way of making up for all of the sins of his demon but that had not been true and love, it seemed was a lie. Love had nothing to do with why he was still undead.

"I love you."

Bloody bitch. He still remembered clearly the look in her green eyes, when she held his hand as it burst into flames and the cavern around them shuddered and collapsed, the sunlight strangely cleansing in its fiery agony as it seared his soul, bringing it from where he had buried it, numbing himself so he could be sane enough to fight the good bloody fight as Angelus might have put it. He still remembered the bittersweet moment as he looked away from the destruction the pendant, that cursed Elizabeth Taylor knock off that sent him to the Great Poofter's side, forcing him into his own personal Hell of being touchless, incorporeal and ignored. He'd seen the lie for what it was and he resented her for it. Then he was in LA, in Angel's office. He remembered Winifred; sweet, sweet Fred trying tirelessly to find him a way back to his corporeal self, remembered the look in her eyes as she listened to him talk nonsense about his unlife and about his soul that gave her an outlook on Peaches' unlife that his Grandsire had never had the words to say. She'd been his friend, likely the only one since Clem he'd had in his life or unlife combined. He'd long since given up on the Nibblet, the disgust and hatred in her eyes still scorching his soul as he recalled his sins.

Then she'd said it, after he'd given up his chance at being solid again, at being himself and saved her from that ponce Pavayne. She'd said she thought he was worth saving and he, like the sod he was told her bloody everything. She'd been shocked of course but the look in her eyes, the way she admired him for how he'd tried to make up for his mistakes in Sunnydale, the way she looked at him like he was some bloody hero seared him. Sweet, sweet Winifred, hollowed out to make room for a Demon God King. Even half a bloody year later it burned him. Illyria, at first an enemy and later a reluctant ally had been vital to the fight against Wolfram and Hart. So vital part of him suspected the Poofter had let Fred die to gain the ally. All Fred's strength and none of her bloody weaknesses. Angel had told him about the phone call to Giles, he still remembered that ponce Andrew and his little slayer pep-squad and he clenched his hands in a rage. He'd found out the hard way that hate was much more powerful than love, if not just as destructive.

At his side, Spike caught a cold, emotionless stare and snapped himself out of his musings. Sighing as he stood, the Master Vampire with a soul moved ahead of the fallen God King and noticed the look of annoyance on her painfully familiar face.

"You are distracted."

Illyria stated coldly, her head coking to the side as her blue eyes narrowed. Studying the white-haired vampire, the former God King searched for words of comfort, disgusted in herself for even thinking of such a thing before she remembered he was her pet as well as her guide and at least had a position of some importance.

"Peaches is probably running around Europe right now, soul searching and we're here doing soddin nothing, Blue."

Illyria's features pulled into an imperious look, softer than those she'd worn before the battle in the alleyway, before Head Boy had fallen.

"You were teaching me this game of darts. I fail to see the importance of Angel's soul in that matter. You presume much in including me in your lack of productivity."

The bloody Ice Queen was back with a vengeance and Spike sighed, giving the former God King a patient look as he collected himself. He had plenty of patience despite popular opinion. He'd spent a bloody century at Dru's side catering to her every whim and survived not only two Slayers but dozens of angry mobs, other demons and vampires, that poofter Dracula, a bloody grudge from Hell from both of the Slayer's families and two world bloody wars. The bloody Scoobies were just too young, or naive to understand that humans were more dangerous than any of those events. One bloody human could destroy everything if they muttered some misguided wish around a Vengeance, Justice Demon or they bloody began some event of some foolish prophesy the Powers that bloody screw would have floating around.

He'd been such a ponce. It took getting his soul back, going insane in a basement and bloody burning up in the Hellmouth to get him to even begin looking at things beyond Buffy. He knew closing the Hellmouth was something he had to do, he'd done it for her even and he felt like a ponce now thinking of it how he'd acted like a bloody kicked puppy, going off to Rome with Angel to find Buffy. He'd have hated the Slayer if not for the guilt gnawing at his soul and Spike sighed, glancing at Illyria. Blue was looking annoyed at being ignored but wasn't saying anything and Spike took another drink of the scotch in his hand before lazily tossing another dart at the board on the wall. The dart gave a satisfying thud and Spike smirked, glancing at Illyria.

"Ha! Two bloody bull's-eyes. Beat that, Blue."

The demon bar was quiet, more so than any human bar and the bodies of the patrons, demons lay all around the ensouled Vampire and the former God King. Illyria gave Spike a haughty look, lifting her chin at his challenge and took the three darts he offered her. Mechanically, the Old One stared at the darts with a tilt of her head, her blue eyes studying them as if they were the most fascinating thing in the universe. Spike snorted at the thought.

"Probably bloody well could be to her."

A twinge at the memories plaguing him caused the vampire to sit down, bypassing the glass for the bottle of scotch he'd liberated from behind the bar. Illyria, apparently finished studying the dart, threw three precise bull's-eyes and turned to Spike with what passed as a smile on her face. Spike, having expected this just sighed, collecting the darts and absently throwing them over his shoulder as Illyria watched the actions with a blank expression.

"Is this part of the ritual for losing at this game? Why would you feel I would need to know this, Vampire?"

Spike muttered to himself bitterly. Illyria was in a snit again. Thinking of Buffy, or Sunnyhell or any Slayers in general had recently begun provoking negative reactions in Spike. There was no love lost between what remained of Angel's crew and the Slayers. The Council and the Slayers and their lot had abandoned them, written them off as turncoats. Angel's guise to trick Wolfram and Hart into believing he'd gone evil had worked a little too well and with the wrong people. Spike absently wondered if any of them aside from Andrew knew he was alive and he muttered under his breath, following the corpse of his fallen friend, his only friend as she moved from the bar's interior, disdain coloring her blue features as she looked at the alleyway behind the bar.

"I wish to do violence. You will find me something to kill, Spike."

Sighing, Spike moved out into the cool Californian night. Los Angeles had gone to Hell during the fight with the Circle of the Black Thorn and the armies of Wolfram and Hart. Seemed it set off a warning alarm in the ranks of Slayers and even the bloody Initiative. Swarms of Slayers, Watchers and toy soldiers were running through the streets trying to clean up the mess while they remained oblivious to Angel's group. Last he'd heard at the very same bar before the Slayers and Initiative had hit the place was that they'd found out the demon army was Wolfram and Hart's and someone had the bright idea it was Angel's doing. The thought that someone was sullying the good names of Angel's fallen crew brought most of the anger Spike was feeling. Disappointment brought more but the bitterness over the losses suffered was what had really pushed Spike's decision that he was no longer in love with Buffy. He also didn't care about any of the self-proclaimed White hats anymore. They'd all but betrayed them when Giles refused to send Red to help Fred.

"Probably nothing around here, Blue. Not with all the soldier boys and Slayers running around with pointy things... wonder if their mothers ever told them it was dangerous..."

Spike trailed off, running the mental picture of a Slayer tripping and falling on her own stake. A laugh, bitter and hysterical tore from the blonde vampire's mouth and Illyria glanced back at him, a look of alarm on her face. She'd been there through the worst of it, fighting shoulder to shoulder with Spike, Angel and Gunn and she'd more than proven herself. That of course didn't stop the Initiative from pulling some government strings and adding all of the faces of Angel's crew, save Spike to the most-wanted list, labeling them as Suspects of interest concerning a terrorist incident in LA. It turned Spike's stomach and he felt like he'd lose the little blood he had there mixing with the alcohol. Angel had managed to get out of the country somehow but the rest couldn't be said for Spike or llyria. Keeping his thoughts from Lorne and Gunn, Spike glanced around with a worried expression. They'd been to a place the Slayers had hit, it was likely still being watched. Standing around drinking and teaching Blue the joy of darts was probably a bad idea.

"You are angry, Spike. I wish- I demand to know what troubles you."

Illyria's tone was flat and the last part was rushed, spoken more in the manner of an order than a question. Spike glanced over to Illyria, trying not to see Fred in her features. She looked almost embarrassed at being concerned. In his mind he'd tried separated them into two completely different individuals but he knew Blue was softening up to him, knew it had more to do with the memories Fred had left behind. Sweet little Fred had the power to turn a heartless God King into a semblance of someone wishing to do good. Remembering Illyria after being awakened, Spike knew it was significant on some level that if it had been anyone but Fred there likely wouldn't be Slayers or Watchers or soldier boys to stare down their noses at Angel and his crew and judge them. What remained of his friend in the Old One was the only reason he didn't go barmy, see if he couldn't get his soul removed with how much the pain burned him. He hadn't given up on Fred. He knew a soul couldn't be destroyed since Angelus still had one. With as many enemies as the Poofter had, Spike knew someone had likely tried destroying Angel's soul and had obviously failed.

"How do you feel about doing a little soul searching, Blue?"

Spike asked, proud of himself at how his voice didn't waver. Illyria raised a brow, coking her head to the side as she thought over Spike's offer. A bit annoyed at the lack of an answer, Illyria decided a little subtlety was required in getting an answer out of Spike.
"I demand to know what you are planning."

Illyria stated, part of her wincing at the gleam in Spike's eyes telling of unshed tears. She very much liked her pet, he was amusing and she didn't want to see him wearing his grief so vividly. Feeling his grief and guilt and all of his other confusing emotions was bad enough on top of her own grief.

"Gonna see a man about a girl... well- demon anyways. How do you like Africa, luv?"

Illyria cocked a brow, seeing that Spike had collected himself. He was a most resilient pet.

"I do not know of this... Africa. You will tell me of it."

Smirking slightly, Spike nodded, moving off down the alley while Illyria moved up to his side, her eyes focused straight ahead. When Spike didn't say anything after a few steps, Illyria none-to-gently punched the Vampire's shoulder, drawing an annoyed look from Spike.

"What?"

Spike spat, wondering what he'd done to piss her off this time. She usually spoke her mind or didn't bother and if she hit him outside of training these days it was if she was mad at him.

"You will tell me of this, Africa. Now."

Raising a scarred brow, Spike chuckled as he absently rubbed his shoulder where a bruise was likely forming.
"Well, pet. What is there to say about Africa? Lovely sun, lovely fields and war in every country."

Illyria rose a brow, her interest growing.

"Tell me more of this war. Is it fought between the half-breed demons or the humans."

Nothing was ever really a question from the goddess, more a statement or demand and Spike dug in his pockets for a cigarette, finding a pack and lighting one as he took a pull, exhaling a stream of smoke slowly. Sparing a glance the bleached-blond vampire saw an annoyed look cross Illyria's face, at least what he thought was an annoyed look.

"Bit of both, luv. Always been a bit of a wild place, a frontier they bloody called it in my day. You'll fit right in."

A single brow rose imperiously.

"You presume I would find anything in this worthless existence enjoyable? I should destroy you for your presumption."

Illyria turned straight ahead, raising her chin defiantly as she dared Spike silently to defy her. Spike chuckled, shaking his head as a gleam shined in his blue eyes.

"Never did sit well with me what happened to Fred. There's a demon I know there that can grant wishes if you pass his tests... Put my mind right at ease knowin if Science Girl's soul was having a rest or not... Destroyed doesn't necessarily mean gone, pet."

Illyria was silent as she walked beside Spike, her brow furrowed ever slightly in thought. Spike did not bother looking beside him as he was more concerned with the scent in the air, the scent of Slayers and demon blood.

"Right, might want to get this show on the road, ducks."

Illyria, her senses much more attuned than the vampire's said nothing, her willingness to match Spike's steps her acknowledgment. Spike flicked aside his cigarette, breaking into a run towards his old apartment. Well, what was left of it. Glancing at Illyria, Spike shook his head as he considered his options. They needed to lay low, away from the Slayers and get into contact with Angel again. He had a feeling Peaches would be back in LA as soon as he got himself sorted and the younger vampire scowled at the thought of joining up with Peaches at anything. While they'd grown to respect each other, theirs was a strange and eternal kind of hate, reserved for brothers more than vampires.

"You wish to bring the Shell back? To destroy me?"

Illyria, not winded by the fast pace stated blankly, her head turning to study Spike. Spike spared a glance at the blue goddess, frowning. She actually sounded troubled there for a minute.

"I just want her soul to be at peace, luv. I wouldn't bring her back to this Hell... without Wesley- I couldn't do that to Fred."

He wanted her back more than anything, more than Buffy but he knew about the pain of losing a loved one to death, had lived it when Buffy had died fighting Glory and closing the portal and he wouldn't wish that on Fred, Hell he wouldn't even wish it on Peaches.

"Maybe the Immortal..."

Spike mused to himself, hoping the BMW he'd nicked from Wolfram and Hart was still where he left it. As well as the papers and money he'd been pulling from the company over time before they cut off the Senior Partners. He only had one care at that moment, aside from staying alive and keeping Blue out of trouble and that was to make sure Fred's soul was at peace, make sure it was where it belonged because she was worth saving.