And this, bloody hell, wasn't mine. I'm not you. I don't give a piss about atonement or destiny. Just because I've got me a soul doesn't mean I'm gonna let myself be led around by...
Did - Did you just say - Spike has a soul? You never said.
Didn't seem worth mentioning, you know.
Seems to be a lot of that.
Or maybe Captain Forehead was feeling a little less special. Didn't like me crashing his exclusive club. Another vampire with a soul in the world.
You're not *in* the world, Casper.
A bit reckless. Well, if Spike's going to be sticking around, it'd be prudent of him to share his plans with the rest of us in future.
Yeah, well, sharing's not something Spike does very well.
Preaching to the horse's mouth.
[re: Wesley] We got a history, him and me.
It was a long time ago. He was a young Watcher, fresh out of the academy, when we crossed paths. It was a, what-you-call, battle of wills...and blood was spilled. Vendettas were sworn. It was a whole--
My God...you're so full of crap.
How would you--you're not a monster, too, are you?
Nope. Standard-issue science nerd. I did spend five years in a demon dimension...till Angel saved me.
Guess he saves a lot of girls, huh?
Girls, guys...puppies. He's pretty much an equal-opportunity saver.
Whoa! Watch it there! Just passing by and got splashed with a heap of grouchy. Got to tell you, Angelkins, that extra weight is not looking so good on you. [Angel looks down at his belly] I'm talking about psychic pounds, pumpkin. Why don't you consider me the Jenny Craig for the soul, huh? So let's hear it.
Couldn't bear it if you did. No, it's talking you need... or maybe a shoulder to--
I'm not gonna cry either.
I was going to a leaning place. OK, Atlas, how about a shrug? Look, so you got the weight of the world. Burden, sure, but breaking news it ain't.
Listen, Lorne, this isn't a good time.
No. No, it never is. Spike showing up your first day in the Wolfram & Hart saddle, took the jolly right out of the rancher. But we've been feeling it ever since then, Angelcakes.
OK, so it's no secret. I don't like the guy.
You're right. I do deserve to go to Hell. But not today. [he punches Pavayne]
Quite a bit, mate. Reality bends to desire. That was it, right? That's why I could touch Fred, write your name in the glass. All I had to do was want it bad enough. [his clothes rematerialize] And guess what I want to do now, you prissy son of a bitch!
I just want you to be careful, Fred, because I know how charming Spike can be.
He is quite the dish, with those eyes...
And the hair and the cheeks and--what do you think I am, stupid? I know he's been playing me with the looks and the smiles. I'm not some idiot schoolgirl with a crush.
It's about doing what's right. Remember?
You're starting to feel it, aren't you? How close you are now... to hell?
What if I am? Not like it's such a big, bleeding deal, is it? If a ponce like you could break out--
I never escaped from hell. All I got was a short reprieve. Not even sure how I managed that.
Oh, put your martyr away, Mahatma. Fred told me all about your great, shining prophecy. Pile up all your good deeds and get the big brass ring handed to you like everything else.
Except for one small catch. The prophecy's a bunch of bull. They all are. Nothing's written in stone or fated to happen, Spike. You save the world, you end up running an evil law firm.
Or playin' Casper with one foot in the fryer.
You think any of it matters? The things we did? The lives we destroyed. That's all that's ever gonna count. So, yeah, surprise. You're going to hell. We both are.
Then why even bother? Try to do the right thing, make a difference...
What else are we gonna do?
So that's it, then. I really am going to burn.
Least I got company, eh? You and me, together again. Hope and Crosby. Stills and Nash. Chico and the --
Never much for small talk, were you? Always too busy trying to perfect that brooding block-of-wood mystique. God, I love that.
Not as much as I loved your nonstop yammering.
The way you always had to be the big swingy, swaggerin' around, barkin' orders...
And your hair. What color do they call that, radioactive?
Never much cared for you, Liam, even when we were evil.
Good. [they sit in silence] There was one thing about you...
Yeah, I never told anyone about this, but I--I liked your poems.
[dismissively] You like Barry Manilow.
[researching from a book] Got it. The dark soul.
A lot. There are over 3,200 different references. Four of them are about you.
This is getting us nowhere.
Let me see this. [reading] Well, that's not fair. I didn't even have a soul when I did that.
