*****

"It's okay, Giles.  I'll be fine, go, shoo."

"Are you quite sure, Willow?"  The Watcher adjusted his glasses, peering
first at the impish redhead and then suspiciously at the vampire tied to the
chair.  He'd been barely conscious yesterday, but he seemed strangely
rejuvenated.  Spike was no one to underestimate--

"Giles?"  Buffy called impatiently.  "He's harmless.  Couldn't hurt a fly.
Willow's going to be fine--As for Big-Ugly-At-Large, he's gonna feel the
pointy end of a stake."  The Slayer was decked out far too fashionably for a
night of demon slaying, but who was he to judge her clothing choice?  Just
her Watcher.

"All right.  Willow, if anything goes wrong..."

"I have a super soaker loaded with holy water, a cross, and two stakes.  I'm
up for the Warden's job tonight.  Besides,"  She added, "I won't get lost in
the woods this way."

"Giles, come on!  We're burning sunset."

"Just a moment!"  The Watcher scowled.  At least he could trust Buffy to take
care of herself physically, if not emotionally.  He felt especially
protective of the budding witch, as he'd been there long before.  Time alone
with evil is not something an impressionable young girl needs.  "Be careful."
He summed up lamely, grabbing his bag and moving out the door.

*****

Willow crept to the window by the door, watching them leave.  If only Giles
wouldn't keep such a close eye on her.  A low growl sounded from the
adjoining room.  Right.  Alone with Spike.  The redhead crept slowly into the
other room, edging her way into his field of vision.  The vampire raised his
head slowly, eyes boring their way deep inside her thoughts.  Her breath
quickened.  What if he could see what she dreamed about him, the tiny
thoughts she allowed herself to drown in only at night in the sadness of an
empty room.

"Pet?"  His mouth quirked around the word.  She'd said call her Pet, and from
the looks she gave him when her mind wandered, the little witch seemed more
than willing to serve his needs.  Her face lit up, the smile spreading like a
sunrise over her features.  Willow was beautiful, but untouchable, her every
movement reminding the vampire of the ability she had to burn him.

She winked at him, dashing for her backpack and opening it with a flourish.
"Got Blood?"  Willow held up two bags.

Spike bowed his head in boundless relief and a silent thank you to the Powers
That Be.  The gnawing that consumed his waking thoughts was eased by just
knowing he'd soon have blood.  "Do now.  Give it here, Pet."  He pulled on
the restraints, instinctively wanting his arms free.

"Erm..."  Willow took a look at Spike.  "I don't think that's really a very
good idea."

"I can't bite you."  He spat distastefully.

"But you could get away."  She countered.

"And go where?  Get blood from who?  Live how?"

"You don't live."

"Yes I do!"  The red liquid sloshed quietly in it's hermetically sealed bag,
teasing him.  It was so close, so close!  "More than you do, lately, moping
around after some bloody little shagging dog."

Spike found himself bitch-slapped with a bagful of blood.

"Don't you ever--I mean EVER!--talk about Oz that way!  He--He--He and I
were--"  Spike winced.  He'd unwittingly scored a direct hit with the barb,
sending the witch into hysterics.  She was an easy target.  So was he, Spike
discovered, as the bag of blood smacked him again.  He was helpless with the
implant still nestled snugly against his brain stem.  "Don't you ever talk
about him--you don't have a right!  We were--I mean we ARE--I mean, I know
that he's g--But see, he's not gone!"  Her voice dropped.  "He's just...
away."

"He's gone, Pet."  Best follow through on an insult.  It would be cowardly to
blurt and backpedal.  "And good riddance to him!"  The sting was still fading
on his cheek, and she was waving that bag of cold blood--a thing that
normally would've made him retch--around like bait in front of a fish.  It
wasn't bloody well fair.  They don't go over to Rwanda and wave sandwiches
around in front of people.

Willow tossed the bag onto the coffeetable, slumping down on the edge of the
couch.  She looked like she'd lost her best friend.  Or her boyfriend, which
was in fact the case.  The redhead had been trying to deny it for a little
while, but a part deep down inside knew he was gone indefinitely, not to
return until Oz decided it was time.  Willow became aware that she was
babbling stream of consciousness.  "And did he consider my feelings when he
was thinking about going on his little Vision Quest?!  Oh, no, I'm just the
stupid little girlfriend who's always there.  Good old, boring, dependable
Willow."

Spike blanched.  She was starting to cry.  Bloody hell, she was going to cry.
It'd been thirty years since he'd really seen someone cry.  Hysterical
victims didn't count.  "...There, there, Pet."

Willow took her face away from her hands.  The little makeup she'd put on was
streaked with tears that had been pent-up until now.  "There there?!  There
there?!  That's supposed to make me feel better?  You're worse than all of
them."  Willow buried her face in her hands again.  Spike wisely remained
silent.  Little chit had something more to say.  "I mean, it's not like I
really was in love with him or anything.  I don't think I was.  I don't know.
Maybe.  Probably.  I just..."

Just my luck, Spike thought.  Willow was a waterworks.  She sobbed
uncontrollably into her hands, getting that little hiccup thing that
sometimes happened to women when they were really upset.  Men, of course, do
not cry.  "Tell you what."  Spike began, one eye still lingering on the bag
of blood.  "You let me up, I swear I'll have your little boyfriend taken care
of."

"You'd kill Oz?!"  She squeaked.

"Okay, clearly that was the wrong response."  Spike offered as she threw a
couch cushion at his head.  "I could find him and bring him back for you."

"You--stupid vampire!"  Willow glared, ready to kick him to the curb (slang
she'd heard on television the night before.  The redhead is a cultural
assimilation machine.).  "You're just trying to use me because you're hungry!"

"Yes, I am!"  Spike shouted back, head swimming.

"In that case, here."  Willow seized the bag, shoving it into his face.
Spike did not need any overtures, he sank his fangs through the plastic,
sucking at the cold liquid.  She watched with a look of as much disgust as
she could muster.  ...In actuality, it was kind of fascinating.  Everyone, at
some point in their lives, has sucked on a cut.  This was a bit of an extreme
version of that, though.  Willow had a sudden vision of his mouth against her
flesh and found herself growing warm.

"Better?"  She asked quietly, taking the fallen plastic bag gingerly between
fingers.

"Much."  Keep the caterer happy.  "Thank you, Pet."

"You don't have to--nevermind."  Willow toyed with the empty bag, smiling
ruefully.  "At least you're straightforward about using me."

Spike took a long look around the room, making sure no one else lurked in the
shadows.  "Pet?"  Her shining eyes met his.  They were filled with tears.
"Aww, Pet.  Don't cry."

"What do you care?"

"I've been clipped, I'm not equipped to deal with emotional trauma."  He
sighed, mentally taking into account where the ropes bound him to the chair.
"Listen, Pet.  You want some advice?"

"No."

"Too bad.  I like dinner with conversation."  She brushed her limp hair out
of her eyes.  "If I may impart some of my wisdom on your relationship with
the dog--"  Willow shot him a warning glare.  "Your problem is that you love
him."

"That's not a problem."

"Yes it is."  He shot back heatedly.  "Because that makes you weak.  You're
the kind of person who gives themself away, body and soul, to the person you
decide to love and before you know it, they're in Brazil fucking some Chaos
demon til she can't see straight."

"Um--"

"The metaphor applies!  You love him, everything about him, don't you?"
Willow nodded hesitantly.  "Well, guess what, Pet?  He doesn't love you."

"Why don't you just--"

"Maybe he thinks he does, maybe, on some level, he does love you, but the
problem here is that he doesn't love you more than himself."

"He needed to go--"

"Don't make excuses.  Most people do love themselves first.  It's a common
occurence, we all look out for number one, but the thing is--"  His blue eyes
cut through her tears.  "You love him first.  You'd probably kill or be
killed if it could save him somehow.  And if it came to a choice between you
and him, he'd choose himself."

Willow's breath came fast.  "How... how do you know...?"

"Please, Pet."  Spike averted his eyes, finding the girl's gaze just a little
too unsettling.  "It takes a sap to spot a sap.  Think I wouldn't have gone
to the end of hell and back again for Dru?  I would've.  But she didn't want
me, told me on no uncertain terms.  Still, I followed, like some lost puppy
tagging after her--and do you have any idea what I did for that bloody bitch?
I did everything, I gave her everything, I fought Slayers, I fought Angel, I
did everything for her, I loved her with every ounce of strength I had!
...And she kicked me out because she didn't understand."  The vampire twisted
uncomfortably in his bonds.  "It's not her fault.  Really, not her fault.
She just doesn't get it.  She liked me.  I was nice.  I was familiar.  But
people like that... they can't love enough.  They don't know how.  Sure, Dru
cared.  But it was never just for me."  He came out of his reverie, taking in
the quiet girl sitting on the sofa, arms wrapped around her knees.  "Bet it's
the same way with him, too."

Willow just sniffed.

"Course, he will come back.  Probably.  They always do, when they get hurt
and need somebody to take care of them.  There's no one better than a sap for
that."

"I'm not a sap."  The redhead mumbled.

"Yeah, that's what a sap would say."

"Shut up, Spike."  Willow left the room without looking back.

*****

Willow washed up in Giles' bathroom, her morbid curiosity having learned it's
lesson after poking around in the Watcher's medicine cabinet.  Her face felt
much better with all the hot tears scrubbed away.  She patted her skin dry,
taking a few deep breaths.  The witch had thought she'd let it all out while
Spike was talking, but the moment she'd left the room, the tears came again.

She'd sunk down on the floor and cried into the carpeting, finally letting
herself sob out all her fears about Oz's departure.  True, they'd been moving
apart... And then there was Ver--

Willow was startled out of her reverie by a thud from downstairs.  She opened
the door and made her way cautiously downstairs.

Spike had knocked the chair over again, his mouth inches from the other bag
of blood.  Willow marched over and plucked it away.

"Hey!"  He growled, game face snarling at her.

"Put that away."  She asserted, surprised when he did.  "I might be a sap,
but it's better to love somebody than stay guarded."  Willow pulled at a
section of the plastic.  "I'll get scissors."

"Could you pour it into a mug?"  Spike called after her.

"Sure."

He shook his head, hearing her hum a lullabye as she padded into the kitchen.

"Sap."

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