Title: Rediscovering Hope
Author: Foxhunt2blue
Summary: Post-Ep for “The Cautionary Tale of 
Numero Cinco”; Spike’s POV 
Rating: R for mention of m/m slash
Pairing: Mention of Angelus/William
Disclaimer: Our wonderful Joss created them 
I had nothing to do with it—wish I had. 
Frankly, the boys would be a lot happier 
with me as their mama! *web
Feedback: Please feed the baby slash ho’ 
cause she can be quite pathetic. She cries 
all night if she doesn’t get her daily dose 
of feedback. *giggle
E-mail: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com
 
***
 
From the shadows, Spike watched in silence 
as Angel wandered through the empty lobby of 
Wolfram & Hart into Wes’ dark office. He 
wasn’t sure why he was here. Actually, he 
wasn’t even sure he bloody well cared why. 
All he knew for sure was that his grandsire 
the one who had formed him, into who he was, 
his true sire, was lost.
 
Spike remembered being a fledgling and his 
first meeting with the great Angelus. Yes, 
Dru had been beautiful, his blood sire, but 
Angelus had been far more to him. He was the 
one who had taught him of the hunt, of the 
ways of the Aurelius Clan, and of the plea-
sures to be found in the immortal flesh.
 
Drusilla was the one who had brought him 
into their world. That was the truth.
 
His true sire though was Angelus.
 
When he had returned from whatever dark void 
he had been in to find himself here all he 
had felt was anger and pure hatred. Hatred 
of the man he was now forced to haunt with 
his ethereal presence. Trapped in a 
nightmare that no hero should be forced to 
face.
 
He was a hero after all---wasn’t he?
 
He’d sacrificed everything to save Buffy and 
her gang, to close the sodding Hellmouth, 
and yet this felt more like punishment 
rather than reward. 
 
Therefore, hatred reared its ugly head as he 
was forced to haunt this man. A man who had 
once been everything to him---father, 
brother, best friend, and once upon a time, 
lover.
 
Yes, they both possessed souls now, but he 
hadn’t forgotten.
 
Long days spent behind heavy drapes, hiding 
from the sun, their legs and arms tangled 
together. Then there had been the longer 
nights filled with mayhem, blood, and death.
 
Spike wanted to forget that he’d cared once 
long ago, but those memories continued to 
haunt him. Just as he now did to Angel in 
the corridors of Wolfram & Hart. His gaze 
drifted up to focus on Angel who sat on Wes’ 
desk, in the darkness, his fingers curled 
tightly around one of the templates. He 
seemed lost in thought and Spike wondered if 
perhaps his thoughts ever drifted to the 
past like his did.
 
Perhaps, that lost look in Angel’s eyes or 
even his own memories were the cause of what 
he’d done.
 
Spike wrapped his ghostly arms around his 
body and shivered as he thought of his visit 
to Wesley. He thought of the how he’d told 
the annoying head-boy that his leader no 
longer believed in the vaunted Shanshu 
prophecy. 
 
If he actually believed his own dog and pony 
show he’d say he’d only done it to put 
another prick of doubt in Angel’s team about 
their reasons for being here. Just another 
‘Spike Special’.
 
The show though was just that---a show. 
 
Spike.
 
The ‘Big Bad’.
 
They didn’t really exist. It had always been 
a show. Only Buffy had ever seen past that 
game, but it took his soul driving him mad 
for the stupid bint to see. In his madness, 
he’d revealed to Buffy the truth.
 
Even demons could love.
 
Those same demons could seek out redemption 
to if they desired it bad enough.
 
He’d been brought here for a purpose, Spike 
thought, as he drifted through the shadows.
 
Not sure what the reason was, but he turned 
out to be the only one who noticed Angel’s 
slow and steady breakdown. He ate rarely, 
slept even less, and his pale skin became 
even paler his dark eyes standing out like 
to hollow wells of shadow. Spike understood 
what was happening, but not why.
 
His sire was losing hope.
 
Hope that what he’d suffered, what he did, 
actually made a difference.
 
Spike had never given much thought to how 
Angelus had dealt with the return of his 
soul. Then he’d faced off against Angelus in 
Sunnydale. That was when he realized that 
Angelus hadn’t dealt with it. He’d fought 
until he’d been swallowed by a bitter 
madness that had wiped away all sign of the 
vampire he’d once been.
 
Despite his denial Spike cared for Angel and 
always had. Glancing up from the floor his 
eyes focused on Angel sitting there seeming-
ly lost in thought. 
 
Then he heard it---four words---whispered to 
the shadows.
 
“Shanshu Prophecy. English Translation.”
 
If he’d had form, true form, perhaps he 
would have wept true tears. Instead he stood 
hidden in the shadows his eyes glittering, 
then he smiled as he turned away.
 
His sire was rediscovering hope.
 
No reason the bloody ponce had to know why.
 
Angel would never know that Spike had gone 
to Wes for a reason. A reason his head 
denied, but his unbeating heart never could.
 
He could see Angel fading away, falling into 
darkness, and for Spike, a world without 
Angel was far too heartbreaking to contem-
plate. Without his sire, he’d have no reason 
to fight to escape what clawed at his own 
heels.
 
Hell.
 
~Finis~