Spike's relationship with his mother is... strained, to put it mildly. Despite the fact that he's been roaming the solar system since he was about thirteen and died a few blocks from her apartment, it's unlikely she even knows he's dead. A wound so old it doesn't even hurt anymore, just a scare he's had so long he can't remember where it came from.

The idea that anybody could do the sort of shit they all did to end up here and still, really, not in a bravado kind of way, but genuinely not carry any guilt is one he has a hard time believing. He looks at Styx skeptically. And grimacing because of the pain. "Really? You don't regret anything?"