'Was it really worth all this?' That question had been plaguing him ever since he'd left Sunnydale.
'Was learning to deal with this whole soul thing really worth leaving the Slayer and going through the horrible embarrassment of asking Angel for help?'
Subconsciously, Spike knew it wasn't really about any of that. It was about finding a purpose, contrary to popular belief, gaining his soul back did not diminish his love of violence and fighting alongside the Slayer was nothing but a tease of something or rather someone that would never truly be his. Patching things up with Angel, if it's possible, would give him a purpose and satisfy his lust for violence on a regular basis. The fact that Angel was the only one in the entire world that understood what Spike was going through was definitely a factor also.
'But if Angel rejects me then all this nervousness and planning would be for nothing and then I would be truly alone... forever.' Spike thought grimly.
‘What am I talking about? If Angel rejects me, I have to kill myself.’ Spike thought, cynically.
"Well, here it goes." Spike said to himself, put out his current cigarette, and took his first steps past the entrance gate of the Hyperion Hotel towards the front door.
Spike halted abruptly when a strong smell hit him.
'Blood, lots of human blood and sex... someone had a party in there.' Spike thought as he sniffed the air.
'But there's something famil... sire... but what the hell is Angel doin' having sex? Oh God...' Spike eyes widened and panic rose from the pit of his stomach.
"Angelus..." Spike whispered in horror and turned to go as far away as possible but then stopped to rethink it.
'I have two choices here: number one leads to me spending the rest of my days bored, lonely and possibly homeless and two involves me going in there and getting my throat ripped out, or worse, by my psycho sire.'
With that thought, Spike hurriedly turned around and in seconds was at the door.
"Least I won't be bored" Spike smirked and opened the creaky door cautiously.
The tang of blood and sex polluted the air so heavily that Spike had to take a minute to shake off his gameface which instantly appeared as his inner demon went berserk. The double doors swung wide open but the hotel was so dark that Spike's night vision barely did him any good. And at that moment, his entire being was screaming for him to get the hell out of there. It was unbelievably dark, there had most definitely been a massacre in that very room, from the look of things Angelus was loose, he was now sporting a shiny new soul and would be of no use of Angelus, the combination of these things properly reserved Spike's next state of being in an ashtray. But when he thought about it, what did he really have to lose? It’s not like he forgot how to fight and his senses were just as well adapted as Angelus’s, he might win. He could do this. Spike stopped and tried to become more aware of his surroundings. He cautiously walked farther into the dark hotel. Spike was a rebel and a fighter by nature but above all that, he was a survivor, living for well over a hundred years proved that, his body and senses were trained for it.
Spike was thinking about all those things when he fell flat on his face after tripping over a large object in the floor.
"Oh, bloody hell." Spike muttered as he started to pick himself up.
He luckily put his hand on a flashlight. Spike turned it on, but had to wipe the blood off of it with his shirt before the light would shine well enough to see. He didn’t bother looking down, as he was pretty sure that he had tripped over a body.
‘Ok, more light.’ Spike thought after he stumbled over something on the floor and shined the light around the room until he found a light switch and flicked it on. Nothing happened.
‘Angelus must’ve cut the lights.’ Spike thought and searched around for the box. He tinkered with the wires for a few minutes and finally got the lights to come on.
The light immediately violated his eyes and he had to recover for a moment before he could see anything. The massacre in front of him had to have been one of the most violent he’d ever seen. The feeling of sorrow for these unfortunate people touched Spike in the pit of his stomach, which was something he was still getting used to. His eyes first fell on a small naked girl who was covered in blood and his sire’s come, her intimate parts had been literally ripped. One black guy and another guy with a half-grown beard were tied up as if they were forced to watch the little show that Angelus had performed with the girl. They both had bite marks on their necks and were drained of most of their blood. All were dead and Spike could smell that there were more dead human bodies and at least one dead demon in the hotel.
Spike began to walk towards the stairs, planning to find Angelus since he was sure if he was down here; he would’ve already made himself known.
"Shit!" Spike screamed, startled.
"What the hell are you doing?" Spike asked Angelus, who was sitting on the floor behind the counter, staring into space.
"Did you go bloody blind, mate?" Spike asked, but still got no response.
He walked towards him and bent down to his eye level.
"Hey!" Spike yelled and snapped his fingers in front of Angel’s face.
"Angelus?" Spike asked and then stared into his eyes for a moment and unconsciously sniffed him.
"Angel." Spike said, surprised and then noticed his bloody appearance.
Spike stood abruptly and kicked in the side of the counter. Angel didn’t even flinch or show any sign of acknowledgement.
"Fuck!" Spike screamed in frustration.
"You know, when I heard you running a hotel I didn’t think you were going to be eating your customers! Bastard!" Spike yelled accusingly, knowing that it was most likely Angelus that did the eating and other things.
"You know what I want to know? Why is this any different than the other times? You didn’t go all catatonic the last two times you regained your soul!" Angel still didn’t show any acknowledgement at all. Spike rolled his eyes.
"Oh come off it. It’s not like you’ve never killed anyone before." Spike said and then sighed and his eyes fell on the mess of blood on the floor.
His stomach started growling. He hadn’t eaten all day and a fresh kill sounded so tempting, even the leftover blood of Angelus’s former meals sounded good.
‘He’s gotta have some blood around her somewhere.’ Spike thought, as the picture of himself drinking from an already dead body violently turned him off.
He walked into a small room that assumed to be Angel’s office. That’s when it all came together.
"Bloody Hell!" Spike said, shocked as he stared at the picture on Angel’s desk.
‘Not customers, his friends, Angelus killed all his friends.’ Spike’s thoughts immediately fell to how Buffy would handle it if she went evil for a little while and killed off the entire Scooby Gang.
"Oh, God." Spike whispered.
Things had rarely been a walk in the park between him and Angel. In fact, they’d spent a great deal of their time hating each other, but Spike knew without a doubt that he couldn’t just leave Angel there.
‘What the hell am I going to do?’ Spike thought, frustrated.
