Burn for Me

Author: Emily

Parts: 11 - 20

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~Part: 11~

Willow mentally ran over the ritual, for the fifteenth time in her walk from the Magic Shop to Spike's crypt. Giles had given her his copy that morning, when she had first asked him to explain the ritual. It wasn't complicated, far from it. The ingredients were fairly basic, and the incantations (thank the Goddess!) could be recited in English. Technically speaking, she didn't need to be going over it again. She could probably perform the ritual with her eyes shut, maybe even in her sleep. But as long as she kept her mind on phrases and ingredients, she couldn't think of Tara, or Glory, or the bond she was about to initiate with an evil, blood-sucking vampire. Better by far to run over the ritual again. For the sixteenth time.

Spike, meanwhile, was trying to convince himself that he wasn't watching the clock, that he wasn't eagerly awaiting the return of the redheaded witch. But really, when your only visitors are demons wanted to collect gambling debts, whiny ex girl-friends, and, on a good day, a slayer aching for an excuse to kill you… showing up wearing little bits of nothing, trying to drive a man crazy… but that wasn't the point. The point is, with only all of that to look forward to, is it any wonder that you'd look forward to a visit from a smart, spunky, very powerful witch? After all, daylight hours were long and no one can sleep ALL the time. So was it really that surprising that he'd enjoy a little distraction? Would it be so shocking that he'd be waiting for her, listening for her, straining to hear a knock on the door or… a heartbeat? And suddenly there is was. He could hear her heartbeat, outside the crypt, smooth and steady.

So why wasn't she coming in?

Patience is a virtue that Spike never claimed to possess. After a minute of listening to her heartbeat with no sign that she was any closer to knocking on the door, he went out after her. He found her, calmly seated on a tombstone, going through a bag of supplies, muttering to herself. He could vaguely make out something about measurements and ordering of ingredients.

"Hello, witch." he said, leaning in the doorway of the crypt.

She looked up and smiled at him. "Hello, Spike." Then she returned to her bag of ingredients.

There was a long pause, as he waited for her to explain what she was doing out there. She didn't. So, he tried again.

"Are we doing the ritual out here then?"

She didn't even look up this time. Simply answered no, and continued with what she was doing.

Yet another long pause.

"Any ingredients out here you need?"

"Nope." she answered, still not looking up.

"Well then, what's the bleeding idea sitting out he—" His rant was cut off by the sound of a watch alarm. Willow turned it off. And stood.

"It's 8:00." she said. "May I come in?"

Spike found himself in the highly unusual position of being struck speechless. Willow couldn't hold back her grin. "I guess that's a yes" she murmured and moved past him through the door.

As she brushed against him, he caught a whiff of a different scent on her, something more than her usual blend of vanilla, lavender, innocence and magic. Something that smelled like… tears? That was a surprise. When he had seen there, seated so calmly on the tombstone, he had assumed that everything had gone well with her friends. After all, those bloody Scoobies stuck together through thick and thin, as he knew to his cost. It probably took some arguing on her part, but he knew the group well enough to know that the witch could talk them into anything. So why had she been crying? He looked over to her, watching her as she made the circle in the dirt on the floor and lay out all the necessary candles. She didn't look upset. But the scent of tears had been unmistakable. And once he looked closely, he could see the tension in her neck and shoulders. She was making a concentrated effort to hold herself together. But from what? He thought about asking, but couldn't think of any way that he could phrase it without it sounding like he was… concerned, like he… cared. So he said nothing. Finally she looked up.

"It's time."

He nodded and walked over to her, joining her in the circle she had created.

"Do you have the ring?" she asked. Again, he nodded, pulling a ring off of his finger and handing it to her. Like the spell required, the ring was silver, with a black stone. Willow took it from him, with a sigh. A part of her mind simply couldn't process that this was real, that she was actually going to go through with it and bind herself to a soulless demon. And that was the part of her mind that was starting to panic, yelling at her to stop this nonsense and go… somewhere, anywhere, away from here. She blocked it out, and began the ritual.

She called on the powers, quietly but calmly, laying out the appropriate offerings and felt the familiar power run through her, letting her know that she was ready. She placed the ring in a bowl with all the necessary ingredients she had accumulated. Only two ingredients remained. But first came the incantation.

She had the words written out in front of her. She could have read them, keeping her eyes on the book. In fact, it was what she had intended to do. But as she opened her mouth to speak, she looked up, and looked straight into Spike's impossibly blue eyes. Her eyes locked with his. His expression was unreadable, but something in it calmed her, grounded her, focused her. Staring unblinkingly into his eyes, she began to speak.

"With all that I have and with all that I am, I bind myself to you; body and blood, mind and soul."

Spike couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. Funny, he'd never noticed they were green before. Now, he felt like he was drowning in green, unable to look away, unable to hear anything but the first line of the ritual that she had recited. She was still speaking, going precisely through the ritual, but the first line kept rolling through his head. "With all that I have and with all that I am…" and he started to remember, "I bind myself to you…" all the things he had tried to forget…

"With all that I have and with all that I am, I bind myself to you."

Brown eyes and a girl named Cecily, and his voice saying, "I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see me-" and her reply, "I do see you. That's the problem." Then more brown eyes and his beautiful Drusilla, and his voice saying "I did it for you. You keep punishing me." And her voice, "I have to find my pleasures, Spike. You taste like ashes." And finally, hazel eyes, the slayer, and his voice, one last time saying "Just ... give me something ... a crumb ... a barest smidgen ... tell me ... maybe, someday, there's a chance." And then her reply, still echoing in his ears. "The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious."

In his century and a half on earth he had allowed himself to love three times. Three women, to whom he had offered everything he had, everything he was, body and blood, mind and what shreds he had of a soul. And he'd been rejected, and then rejected again. And then rejected. Again. And in over a century, not once had he had a woman offer herself to him. Until now. As he lost himself in those green eyes, he seemed to hear her say the line again. "With all that I have and with all that I am, I bind myself to you; body and blood, mind and soul."

He was jerked out of his contemplation when Willow took his hand. When his eyes left hers, he noticed the ceremonial knife in her hand, and realized what she was about to do. The incantation was over; they were on the final stages of the ritual.

She slashed his wrist, raising a thin line of blood. She turned it, forcing several drops to fall into the cup along with the ring and the potion. Then raising the bloody wrist to her lips, she recited: "With free will and unconstrained soul, I take your blood and acknowledge its authority." She focused on the task at hand and did not notice how his eyes closed as her lips opened against his wrist and he felt her tongue slide along the cut.

She released his wrist and turned to her own. Gritting her teeth, she made a similar slash on her own wrist, forcing several drops into the cup and reciting: "With free will and unconstrained soul, I give my blood and affirm its compliance. What was mine now is yours." And when she held her wrist out to him, even she could not fail to notice his moan when her blood hit his lips. But she ignored it, ignoring as well the rush of warmth that went through her as his tongue caressed the wound.

When he released her wrist, she handed him the cup, and watched as he drank half the contents. He then returned the cup to her. She drained it, pulling the ring out of the empty cup when she was finished. The silver setting had been tarnished when Spike had handed it to her, but now it shone, and the black stone had turned into a sparkling emerald. She took his hand in hers, saying, "I place my life and my future in your hands" before sliding the ring onto his finger.

As soon as the ring slid on, a light burst from it. The rush that went through them threw both Willow and Spike back. To Willow's surprise, the rush felt familiar. She remembered it from the ritual to restore Angel's soul. It's the rush you feel when a soul is bonded to a demon.

She took a moment to ponder how bizarre her life was when the sensation of bonding a soul to a demon felt familiar.

Then she returned to the point at hand. A soul had been bonded to a demon. Her soul. To his demon. The ritual had worked.

~Part: 12~

Everything was dark. Which made sense, she realized, when she discovered her eyes were closed. Darkness, check. She could feel something soft and silky underneath her. Sheets. Silk sheets. She could tell she was lying on a bed. She wondered how that had happened. The last thing she remembered, she was performing the ritual with Spike and there had been a bright light and then…

"Damn." she said, opening her eyes. "I passed out again, didn't I?"

Her eyes scanned over the room until she spotted Spike. He was seated at the foot of the bed, with his back propped up against a bedpost, reading a book. She couldn't tell what it was. He looked up in surprise at the sound of her voice, but quickly recovered his nonchalant expression.

"That you did, pet." he answered, shutting his book. "How do you feel now?"

She tried to sit up, but waves of dizziness knocked her right back down. She groaned and closed her eyes again. "Never better." she answered. "Top of the world."

He chuckled. You've got to admire a woman too weak to sit up who still manages to crack jokes. Yes, this one most definitely had spunk.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the spell worked." she said, after a few moments had passed. "Spells that fail never wipe me out this much."

"Don't you feel it?" he murmured, and she was shocked to discover his voice right next to her. While her eyes had been closed, he had slid up alongside her, not touching her, but lying next to her, his lips only inches from her ear.

She opened her eyes and turned her head to face him. He was lying on his side, his head propped up by his hand, watching her with unabashed curiosity. She paused a moment to ponder his question.

"Yes." she answered finally. "I do feel it." And she did. Somewhere, deep inside, there was a part of her that was purring in peaceful contentment, simply knowing that he was nearby. She could sense him, not his thoughts or his feelings, but simply his presence, close and oddly comforting. "Do you feel it, too?"

He shook his head. "I smell it." he answered. Noting her confused look, he explained. "You smell like me now. Not completely, of course. You still smell like you, but my scent is mixed in. Any demon that got within fifty feet of you would know that you belong to me. My claim is all over you."

She blushed as she processed this new information. She had never thought of the bond in those terms. She had not considered how his… claim on her would show itself. She just knew that it sounded right when he said that she belonged to him. She wondered if it was the bond that was making her feel this way. She told herself that it was the bond's fault, that the bond was the reason that she felt so pleased at the thought that she was his.

"I need to go." she muttered, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Bad move. She would have fallen backwards, but Spike slid behind her, holding her up against his chest. Unconsciously, she relaxed against him.

"Your girlfriend will have to wait a bit longer." Spike said. "You're in no shape to be going anywhere, yet." He noticed that she flinched when he mentioned her girlfriend. That was… unusual. The little witch had always seemed eager before to rush off with the girl. He, himself, never understood why. The girl was pleasant enough, but bland. He was sure her blood was as tasteless as she was. Not at all like the firecracker that filled his arms at the moment. He stifled a moan at the memory of her sweet, spicy, powerful blood from when he tasted it during the ritual. The thought of her blood grew even more tempting as he speculated on how the claim would affect its taste. >From how it had changed her scent, he guessed her blood would be sweeter, darker, more mysterious, with a tang of danger to it. He started to lean in, all his instincts driving him to nuzzle at her neck, but he caught himself just in time. As he paused, his face close to hers, he noticed once again the scent of her tears. She wasn't crying yet, but she was close to it. He knew if she faced him, he'd see tears swimming in those big, green eyes.

He felt her tense up as she tried to compose herself, and wasn't surprised when she tried to pull away from his arms. But he tightened his grip, refusing to let her go. "Easy, pet." he whispered in her ear. "Keep this up and you'll pass out again." She stilled immediately.

"I have to leave." she whispered again, and he could hear the tears just under the surface.

"And I told you that your little witch would have to wait."

"Tara won't be waiting any more." she murmured, more to herself than to him. Then, turning in his arms to look at him, she spoke again.

"Buffy's the one who's waiting for me. We're having a sleepover at her house. You wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?"

"Go ahead and try to leave." he replied, releasing her. "I guarantee you won't get very far."

"Because you'll stop me?" she answered, annoyed at his smug tone, as she rose to her feet.

"No." he answered, lying back against the headboard and watching in amusement as she struggled to stay upright. "Because, right now, you couldn't walk to the door without falling over, much less all the way to the slayer."

He was right, she thought. Damn him. She'd just have to wait awhile longer while she got her strength back. She sighed in resignation and lay back down. It shouldn't be much longer till she pulled herself together. And until then, she'd just have to lie there. On the bed. Next to him. Feeling his eyes on every inch of her. Conversation! she thought. If we're talking, I'll be less nervous. <Yeah, because it's the silence that's making you uncomfortable, not the well-toned, overwhelmingly seductive, undeniably gorgeous man lying only inches from you> a little voice in her head mocked her. <You go right ahead and tell yourself that.> Trying desperately to ignore the little voice, she wracked her brain for topics of conversation.

What do guys like to talk about, she wondered. Talking about food always worked with Xander. But to Spike, a good meal would probably consist of her graduating class. No, she definitely couldn't talk to Spike about food. Music? She always tried to talk about music with Oz. But she really doubted she and Spike listened to the same stuff. She tried to think back to conversations she had had with Spike in the past. Hmm, there was the time he had kidnapped her and Xander to perform a love spell, and they had talked about Drusilla breaking his heart. Probably not a good memory to bring up. Then, in the dorm room when he tried to eat her, they had talked about her own broken heart. Yes, that was definitely a memory that she wanted to avoid. She knew boys liked sports. Too bad she didn't know the first thing about them. What else could she talk about?

"Are you worried?" she asked, at long last.

"Worried?" he asked, clearly puzzled. "Why would I be worried?"

"About the ritual." she explained. "You're going to be fighting a god. Are you worried?"

He paused, clearly caught off guard by her question. "I really hadn't thought about it." he finally replied. "I guess it never occurred to me that anything would be able to kill me. It's been a very long time since I was scared by the prospect of a fight. I've gotten into a lot of stupid fights in my unlife, and I've survived them all. Just too stubborn to die, Angelus used to say." Spike continued, with a slight smile on his lips as he reminisced. "Those early years, he kept waiting for something to kill me, waiting for my arrogance to trap me, but it never did. Oh sure, I got us run out of town a few times, but nothing was ever able to defeat me. And that was just me." he said, turning his head to grin at Willow. "All those times, all those fights I wasn't supposed to win, all the times I survived against the odds, it was just me, too stubborn to die. This time, I'll be channeling the original good. It never occurred to me that I could lose."

She smiled back at him. "I can't imagine not being scared of a fight." she admitted. "After all these years, after all the vamps and demons and everything else that I've fought, I still get nervous each time I patrol with Buffy."

"Then why do you do it?" he asked, softly.

"Because it needs to be done." she answered with a shrug. "When Xander and I first started helping Buffy and Giles, back in high school, they told us it wasn't safe. But we saw what was happening. We couldn't ignore it. And we wanted to help."

"What was Buffy like back then?" he asked. He had turned over to lie on his back. He had a dreamy expression on his face and his voice was soft. Willow recognized the Buffy-dream-state. She'd tracked it in Xander, Angel, and Riley. She smiled, gently, and started to talk. She knew it wasn't a good idea to talk to Spike about Buffy. She knew they were supposed to be discouraging his obsession. But no matter what Buffy and Giles said about Spike being a soulless demon incapable of love, she knew it wasn't true. She still remembered the way it had felt when he cried on her shoulder about Dru. Spike may be a soulless demon, but he was fully capable of love. And if he wanted someone to talk to about Buffy, heaven knows she was used to that job. She relaxed, curling up on her side, facing Spike, and started to talk. Spike listened silently, never looking at her, drinking in the stories about his beloved Buffy.

~Part: 13~

Willow got wrapped up in the stories she was telling and soon lost track of time. She was an animated storyteller with an eye for detail, using gestures and different voices for the characters. For someone who babbled so much and got so nervous when she had to talk about herself, she was surprisingly eloquent and expressive when talking about someone else. Spike kept his face carefully neutral and non-responsive as he lay on his back with his eyes still closed. He made a concentrated effort not to respond, but in his mind's eye, he could see every event as she detailed it. He nearly ruptured something holding in his laughter when she gave her imitation of Angel. She was midway through telling him about when Xander was possessed by hyenas when Buffy came barging through the door.

"Okay, Spike, what have you done with her? We were expecting her nearly two hours ag—" Buffy cut off abruptly as she saw Willow lying on Spike's bed. That was… unexpected.

"Willow! Are you alright?" Buffy transitioned quickly from furious and accusatory as she spoke to Spike to worried and concerned as she switched her focus to Willow.

Spike winced at the sound of her voice. Sure, he loved the girl, but her voice was always a bit too loud and shrill for his taste. Gave him a bloody headache, it did. She never seemed to remember vamp super hearing. Or maybe she did remember and thought to increase the torture when she got in a mood to yell at him.

And now her screaming was even more of a shock to his system, in contrast to the witch's soft, gentle voice. He had never guessed she was such a good storyteller. She'd had him hanging on every softly spoken word. Not that he'd shown any interest, of course. It wouldn't do to have the little witch know that he liked to hear her stories, that he was enjoying her company. His image as the big bad was in enough tatters as it was. He couldn't let it get around that he was actually enjoying the time he spent with a human.

But it certainly wouldn't hurt his image if he got pissed off at the slayer for barging into his crypt like that. Besides, she had interrupted at the most exciting part of the story! Xapper had been attacking Buffy while the other idiots ate the principal. Literally, ATE the principal. The slayer seemed to have a special gift for walking in at inconvenient points when someone was telling a story. He wanted to hear what happened, damn it. And… and he didn't want her to go. He knew the bond only went one way. He didn't need her to stay. But he wanted it.

Willow looked at her watch and blushed. She had had no idea that so much time had passed. She hadn't meant to get so carried away talking to Spike. He'd been listening so quietly. <Probably bored to tears> she thought. <Goddess, he must have been trying to think of how to get rid of me for ages.>

"I-I'm fine, Buffy. I was just a little worn out after the spell" she flashed a look over at Spike, silently praying that he wouldn't mention that she had passed out. Buffy always freaked out when a spell made Willow faint. "…and I was resting until I felt strong enough to come to your house. It isn't Spike's fault."

Buffy immediately rushed to Willow's side. Willow tried to keep her face averted, but Buffy turned it to the light. "You've been crying again." she said softly, running a thumb gently over the faint traces of tear tracks on Willow's face. "I knew this was a bad idea. I should have never agreed to let you do this tonight. It could have waited."

"No, Buffy." Willow interjected quickly. She didn't want to discuss Tara while Spike was sitting there. She was afraid she'd start to cry again. "I'm glad it's done with."

<Nice work, slayer> Spike thought, as he scented the beginnings of tears rising again in the witch's eyes. Two minutes earlier she had been fully engrossed in talking to him and had completely forgotten whatever it was that kept making her cry. But as soon as the slayer walked in, she simply had to go and reopen the wounds. <They should make a new word for tactless just for her.> Spike grumbled to himself.

"Do you think you can walk?" she asked, helping Willow to her feet.

"Bloody hell, slayer, can't you tell the girl's about to fall down?" Spike was sick of the slayer barging in and knocking everything around. Chaos demons didn't make so much of a mess! Besides, he was right. The witch was still very pale and more than a little shaky on her feet.

"That'll change as soon as I get her away from you." Buffy hissed.

"Yeah, she'll be worse." Spike answered, stepping forward and stalking towards Buffy.

"Nothing could be worse than being around you." Buffy snapped in reply, letting go of Willow's arm and turning to face Spike. She was oblivious to the fact that Willow nearly fell down without her support. Willow managed to seat herself on the bed just before falling to the floor.

"And why is it you feel the need to follow me around all the time to tell me how much you hate being around me? Face it, slayer. You seek me out."

"Seek you out? You're the stalker here!"

"Look where we are, pet. Did I stalk you all the way into my own home? You're the one who showed up here."

"I had to take care of Willow!" Buffy screamed in reply, gesturing to Willow without turning around to look at her. "I had to come to get her the hell away from you!"

"She's bonded to me, slayer. Don't forget that. She'll only feel complete when she's near me. Until I end this bond, the only one who can make her happy or relaxed or comfortable or complete is ME." With each word, he took a step towards her. And with each step he took, she backed away. It had been so long since she had seen Spike as a threat, she had forgotten how very good he was at being intimidating. "I may be `beneath' you, slayer, but I'm all over her." He now had her backed against the wall, one hand on either side of her face as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I'm in her blood now." She tried to look away but there was nowhere to turn "…and there's nothing you can do about it."

He leaned closer, almost touching her. He felt like he was drowning. It was the way he always felt when he was around her. The demon inside him was roaring for him to kiss her or break her neck and his body ached for her touch while the man inside him, the little piece of him that remembered the shy, vulnerable, decent man he used to be, wanted to cry. Cry for her to love him, cry because he knew she never would, cry for what he had become, cry for the hopelessness of the whole mess. Standing near her was like standing in the path of a tornado, waiting for destruction. And yes, there was a part of him that wanted to be destroyed.

Suddenly and completely unexpectedly, he felt a soft, warm hand on his shoulder, and heard a soft, warm voice say his name.

"Spike."

He turned to see the witch standing directly behind him. He shifted to face her, turning his back to the slayer who quickly pulled away from the wall and from him.

In a perfectly calm, absolutely neutral voice, Willow continued, never breaking eye contact with him.

"I think I should be going now, Spike. It's getting late, my friends will be worried. Besides, I'm feeling better now. I think I just stood up too quickly. I was lying still for too long."

And suddenly the tornado was gone and the skies had cleared. It was as if the scene with the slayer had not taken place. All the animosity and tension that had filled the room only moments before mysteriously vanished. His demon calmed as if by magic and his whole body relaxed. Willow watched the tension drain out of him and breathed a sigh of relief. Putting him and Buffy together was like adding a lit match to gasoline. She noticed, somewhat wistfully, that the passion that filled him when he was near the slayer disappeared when he spoke to her.

"You don't have to go yet, if you don't want to." he answered, and an impartial listener would have been shocked to hear the difference in his voice. All the animosity was gone. His tone wasn't particularly gentle or kind, but it had lost all the edge of harsh bitterness it had held when he spoke to the slayer. Sadly, there were no impartial listeners to notice. "You can stay and rest until you're back to yourself."

"I really think I'm okay." Willow answered. "It's time for me to go."

She turned to gather her stuff, but turned back to look at him again. "By the way, thank you, Spike."

He looked shocked. He couldn't remember the last time someone had thanked him for something. It simply didn't come up terribly often in his "line of work."

"For what, pet?"

"For taking care of me." she said simply, with a smile. "And for saving the world."

"I haven't saved it yet, you know."

"I know." Willow answered, still smiling. "But you will." She smiled again and then turned to gather her stuff. As she loaded it all in her bag, she spoke again.

"I'll be by tomorrow. I need to talk to you about the ritual and then we can start prepping the ingredients. How does 2:00 sound to you?"

"It's a date." he answered, recovering his aplomb and dazzling her with his trademark smirk. Buffy rolled her eyes but, surprisingly enough, Spike didn't notice. He was looking at Willow, who was smiling at him again.

"See you tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Spike."

"Goodnight, witch." he answered, just before the door shut behind them. He was tempted to follow them. He could bait the slayer some more, that was always fun. And he could spend some more time with the increasingly intriguing little redhead. On second thought, he decided, as a wicked grin crossed his face, he'd wait. They were having a slumber party. He knew there would be plenty of "girl talk" later on. If he followed them, they'd know he was there and they'd keep their mouths shut. But if he bided his time and snuck over later, he'd hear them in full confessional mode. That would be much more interesting. For now, he could wait.

He lay back on his bed with a sigh. He looked at the ring on his finger, the ring that bound her to him. He stared into the sparkling emerald, watching the light shine off of its facets. <Beautiful> he thought. Then he folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes again, picturing scenes from the stories he had just heard, playing over in his mind the witch's voice as she told them. <Just beautiful.>

Meanwhile…

"Horrible, disgusting, creepy vampire!"

"Buffy!"

"Well, it's true. You just ended a relationship, WITH A GIRL, and he's hitting on you."

"Buffy, he was NOT hitting on me. He just gets his kicks out of making me blush. You know that. Besides, I swear, he was a perfect gentleman all evening" <until you showed up> Willow mentally added. Spike had been almost considerate, taking care of her when she fainted, and listening patiently while she babbled on about sophomore year. He hadn't seemed scary or patronizing or mocking at all. She had felt surprisingly comfortable with him. It had been… nice. She hadn't felt that relaxed in a long time.

But then Buffy had walked in <not walked, STORMED in> she mentally corrected herself, and the mood had been broken. Spike and Buffy always seemed to bring out the worst in each other. Willow knew that Buffy wasn't mad that Spike had hit on Willow (not that Willow would admit that he had!); no, the slayer was mad that Spike had successfully managed to bait her. Spike always had an uncanny knack for getting under her skin. But Buffy hated to admit it, so she vented by blaming Spike for hitting on her broken-hearted friend. <Yeah, right> Willow thought. <As if Spike would be hitting on me when Buffy was around.>

Buffy snorted. It was not the most attractive sound she could have made, but it very clearly expressed her feelings regarding Spike's ability to be a gentleman.

"He doesn't know what the word `gentleman' means. When did this `gentlemanly' behavior take place? Before, during, or after he forced you to bind yourself to him?"

"He didn't force me, I agreed voluntarily. He's going to be saving the world next week. For the second time! I think maybe we should cut him a little slack. Besides, whether he can define it or not, he WAS a perfect gentleman to me tonight. Anyway, he doesn't know that Tara and I split up." Willow's voice wavered a little when she said Tara's name. Buffy was instantly apologetic for bringing up painful thoughts.

Willow hid a little smile. Oh, it did hurt to say Tara's name, but that's not why her voice wavered. Bringing the topic back to her heartache got Buffy off of her anti-Spike lecture. Willow didn't stop to analyze why she hated it so much when Buffy picked on Spike. If she thought about it, she'd probably decide that it bothered her because Spike couldn't defend himself, or because his actions deserved a little more gratitude than they had been given. Those were, after all, logical and sensible reasons. And maybe those really were her reasons. But she didn't stop to analyze. They had reached the slayer's house, and she knew that inside she'd find chocolate and cookie dough and movies with John Cusack. And at the moment, that was what mattered most.

~Part: 14~

Dawn Summers was a fourteen year old girl. It wasn't her fault. Blame the monks. They could have made her twenty-six and gorgeous. After all, they were making her from scratch, why not go all out? But no, they made her into a fourteen year old girl. So as a result, she was surrounded by people who treated her as a child. And she was sick of it.

No one would tell her what was going on. Everyone was being all twitchy and secretive. She had been forced to find things out for herself. She found out something was wrong in the first place by eavesdropping. She found out about being the Key by breaking into the Magic Box. She found out what that meant by visiting the mental ward of the hospital. The Key is the link. The link must be severed. Such is the will of God. Not exactly something a fourteen year old should have to deal with. They should have made her twenty-six and gorgeous. That would have been cool.

Tara didn't treat her like a child. But now Tara was gone. She had stopped by the house on her way out of town to say goodbye to Joyce and Dawn. She didn't say much, but that was nothing new. She just said that she had to leave and she wished them luck. She asked Dawn to look out for Willow for her. And then she was gone.

Spike didn't treat her like a child. She thought about going to Spike's crypt and asking him what was going on. He always told her the truth. But then Buffy and Anya came in and Dawn learned (by eavesdropping, of course. How else was she to find out anything?) that Willow was with Spike and that they were doing some kind of spell. She couldn't figure out exactly what kind of spell it was, except that Buffy thought it was a bad idea. And she was worried. And if Buffy was worried, Dawn figured that meant she, herself, should be entering panic mode.

Dawn didn't know what she would do if something happened to Willow. Willow was the one who took care of her. Oh, sure, Buffy took care of her in the whole anyone-who-lays-a-finger-on-my-sister-will-be-in-a- whole-new-world-of-pain kind of way, but Willow was the one who took care of her as a person. She listened to Dawn, REALLY listened. Dawn knew she could tell Willow anything. When they had first moved to Sunnydale and Buffy and Willow had become friends, Dawn had immediately latched on to the shy redhead. After all, she always thought that she and Willow had more in common with each other than either of them had with Buffy. She used to pretend that it was Willow who was her sister and that Buffy was just her sister's annoying best friend. And though she knew that none of those memories were true, that the monks had made them all up, she still remembered how great it felt to run to Willow with her problems and have Willow always know how to make things right. And now that she was making her own memories, she knew it was true that Willow was always there for her.

Buffy had started to pace. Whatever it was Willow was doing with Spike, she should have finished already. Dawn could tell that Buffy was getting more and more nervous with every moment that passed. Finally, Buffy couldn't take it anymore and she bolted out the door. Dawn knew she was on her way to go kick down Spike's door. Poor Spike. He must have to replace his door every week at the rate that Buffy kept kicking it in.

Dawn was tempted to start pacing herself. Willow was out there, possibly hurt. Spike and Buffy were going to get into another one of their fights (they always did in these situations). Tara was gone. And now she was alone in the house (her mom had gone to the store to buy more marshmallows) with Anya. Yes, this was decidedly a bad day. Pacing was starting to sound like a good idea. If she was going to be stressed and anxious, she might as well get some exercise out of it. She stood up and moved to the end of the room. If you're going to pace, it's best to make sure you have plenty of room to do it in. Otherwise, you fall down. She was right about to begin, when she was interrupted by a voice.

"Please don't pace."

Dawn turned. Anya was sprawled out on the couch with a magazine in her lap, but she was looking at Dawn.

"What?"

"I said please don't pace. Buffy was doing it earlier. It was making me dizzy."

"What makes you think I was going to pace?"

"You had that look."

Dawn sighed and sat back in her chair. "I'm just worried."

A confused look passed over Anya's face. "Why?" she asked.

Dawn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "It's what humans do when the people they care about might be in trouble. They worry."

Anya DID roll her eyes at that. "Yeah, I know about that." she said. "Believe me, worry is definitely a concept that I understand. But why are you worried about Willow? She can take care of herself." She looked genuinely curious, as if Dawn might actually have a reason to give for why people worry when they shouldn't.

"I know she can." Dawn answered. "It's just that…" Her voice trailed off.

"It's just that what?" Anya pressed.

"It's just that I don't know what I'd do if something happened to Willow." Dawn concluded quietly. "What is this spell? Is… is it dangerous?"

Anya sighed. "Are they going to get mad at me for telling you? They get mad at me for talking all the time. There are all these rules: things that I can't say public, things I can't say to strangers, things I can't talk about in front of Xander's friends, things that I can't say when you're around… I get confused. I don't know if telling you breaks the rules. Maybe I should call Xander and ask?"

Dawn perked up. Finally, someone was going to give her some answers. She got up from her chair and went to sit next to Anya on the couch. She looked to Anya with a hopeful expression on her face, and chose her words very carefully.

"Well, you can call Xander and ask him if you want, but I know he'd say it's alright. Besides, it's not like I'm not going to find out sooner or later. Might as well be sooner."

Dawn held her breath as she waited for Anya's reaction. Anya seemed to be weighing her options. For a moment, Dawn was afraid she was going to say no, and then Dawn would be right back where she started, but finally, Anya nodded. Dawn exhaled in relief.

"Okay." Dawn said. "Tell me what happened today."

~Part: 15~

Joyce returned, marshmallows in hand, right before Anya began, so she heard the story as well. Both Joyce and Dawn were amazed at what they heard. Sure, they were accustomed to dealing with the demon of the week and the apocalypse of the season, but this was something more. Buffy had been ready to die, again, to protect her sister. Willow was risking not just her life, but also her freedom and her happiness to save their family. Both Dawn and Joyce had tears in their eyes before the story was done.

Anya's explanation was blunt and to the point, as always. Buffy's argument with Spike took longer than expected, as always. As a result, Anya had just finished her story when she and Dawn heard the key in the door, signaling that Buffy and Willow had arrived.

There was a flash of light brown hair and the next thing they knew, Willow had a shaking, sobbing fourteen year old girl wrapped around her waist. Buffy immediately started questioning Anya, asking what had she done to upset Dawn, but Willow hushed her. She knew what was wrong. Dawn had always been exceptionally good at finding out things she wasn't supposed to know. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Anya had told her what had happened. And she had known that Dawn would worry about her. Dawn always worried about her. So Willow knew better than to ask any questions. She simply wrapped her arms around Dawn in return and gently rocked her back and forth.

"It's okay, Dawnie. I'm fine."

Dawn pulled away enough to look up at Willow's face. Willow was an awful liar; Dawn knew she'd be able to see the truth. She sighed with relief at what she saw, and pulled closer to hug her again.

"I was s-so w-w-worried." she managed to say.

"No need to worry any more." Willow answered, smiling down at her. She brushed Dawn's hair out of her eyes and wiped away the tears. "We're going to be fine. All of us. Now why don't you go and wash your face, and then the girl's night can begin! No more waiting, I need my chocolate!"

Dawn giggled and gave Willow one last quick hug before running off to the bathroom.

Joyce walked over, wiping away her tears and hugged Willow and Buffy, together.

"I'm so proud of you girls." she whispered before pulling away. "I'll go start the hot chocolate."

"Manicures!" Dawn stated from the doorway as she re-entered the room. "We need to start with manicures. Willow, I'll paint your nails."

"Nah, you have to give me a pedicure." Willow answered. "You're the only one who can do it without tickling me. Anya, would you mind giving me a manicure?"

Anya brightened. She had remained quietly seated during the scene with Buffy, Willow, Joyce and Dawn, feeling left out, as usual. They were like a family. A family that she wasn't part of. Not surprisingly, Willow had noticed. After all, she knew what it was like to be on the outside looking in.

"But first," Willow announced, "we must put in `Say Anything.' Only then can the girl's night officially begin."

Dawn and Buffy groaned simultaneously.

"Willow, how many times have you seen that movie?" Buffy asked.

"Not enough!" Willow answered. "I can never see it enough."

"What's `Say Anything' about anyway?" Anya asked.

Willow gasped in mock horror. "You've never seen `Say Anything'? Oh, you poor girl. Well, that will change immediately. Buffy, put it in right now!"

Buffy laughed and stuck in the videotape. As the previews rolled, Willow explained the premise of the movie to Anya.

"You'll love it." Willow assured Anya. "And if you don't, lie. I refuse to believe that anyone could not love this movie."

"We'll see." Anya answered, smiling. "Now, what color do you want for your manicure?"

One hundred minutes later….

Willow watched the closing credits run. Her fingernails were now gold, and her toenails were now silver and her stomach was now crammed full of hot chocolate, chocolate ice cream, bars of chocolate, chocolate chip cookie dough, chocolate chip cookies, and popcorn. In short, she was content.

"Well?" she asked Anya. "What did you think?"

"If guys like that honestly existed, I'd have been out of work centuries ago." Anya answered. "But now I understand why you're in love with John Cusack."

"Exactly!" Willow answered, grinning at Anya. She sighed and stretched. "What was I thinking dating a girl when John Cusack is still single?"

Dawn snorted. "Yeah, next time he comes to Sunnydale, the two of you will meet and fall desperately in love."

"Betcha I could break into some computer files and find out his address and phone number." Willow answered, absentmindedly, wondering if she really would be sick if she ate another cookie. "Then I could go to him."

"Would you do it if I dared you to?" Dawn answered, with a wicked grin on her face.

"Oh! Oh! Truth or dare!" Buffy squealed and started bouncing in place. "We have to play truth or dare, it's a girl's night tradition!"

Willow, Anya, and Dawn groaned in response.

"Buffy, if you dared me to get up and walk across the room, I don't think I could do it." Willow replied.

"If we played according to the original version, there would only be one dare." Anya stated.

"Original version?" Dawn asked.

"Sure." Anya answered. "We come up with a dare for each person before the game starts. Something they'd never do in a million years. Then we start asking the questions. Easy at first, then harder and harder. Finally, we get each person to the point where they'd rather do the dare than answer the question. Everyone does the dare and the game is over."

The others looked back and forth at each other with raised eyebrows, considering this option.

"I'm in." Buffy said.

"Me, too." Dawn added.

"Alright, why not?" Willow replied.

"Okay then, now we need to come up with the dares."

"Willow, your dare is to find John Cusack's phone number, call him and tell him you love him." Dawn said.

Willow blushed furiously, but nodded her agreement. After all, she couldn't imagine any question she wouldn't rather answer to avoid having to do that.

"Dawn, you have to do the laundry for the whole house for a month."

"A month? Can't you make it a week?"

"Nope." Buffy answered. "A month. And if you ruin any of my clothes, you have to replace them."

"Then you have to be Spike's slave for a day." Dawn retorted, and watched with pleasure as all the color drained out of Buffy's face.

"H-h-his slave? For a whole day? I couldn't."

"That's the point." Dawn said. "It's supposed to be something you'd never do in a million years. Come on, Buffy. He can't hurt you, where's the harm?"

"No." Buffy said. "Find something else."

"A kiss." Willow said. "Kiss Spike, instead." Buffy shot her a look of death. "It's not like you haven't done it before! One kiss, and it's over with. You can punch him afterwards, if it makes you feel better."

"But the kiss has to last at least ten seconds." Dawn threw in. "With tongue."

The look of death was passed on to Dawn. "Fine." she said.

"Anya, you have to go to the pet shop and pet a rabbit." Buffy decided.

Anya shivered at the idea, but nodded. The advantage of being blunt and not understanding about discretion: there were no questions she wouldn't answer.

Standing outside the house, Spike grinned. From his vantage point near the living room window, he could hear every word that was said. It appeared his timing had been impeccable. He had shown up fifteen minutes earlier, in time to see all the girls gushing over the end of the movie. Now, they were on to the juicy stuff. Not only would he get all the dirt on all four of them, but also Buffy would be kissing him the very next day. For ten seconds. With tongue. Unlife was good. His grin faded at the next words that were spoken.

"Okay, Willow. You're the reason we're here, so we get to attack you first. Question one: are you okay with Tara leaving?"

Bloody hell, that's why the chit had been crying. Her little witch- friend had left. Suddenly, everything fell into place. Her comment that her witch wouldn't be waiting for her; the tears in her eyes when the girl had been mentioned; the concern that the slayer showed about whether or not she was alright. It wasn't the ritual that worried her; it was the girl's broken heart. And remembering how the witch had acted, he had no doubt that her heart was well and truly broken.

He wondered what had caused it. As far as he could tell, the two of them never fought. The other witch was too damn quiet to fight; it would be like trying to start an argument with a limp dishrag. He couldn't picture her as the type to cheat, either. Same reason. Not enough gumption to go after someone. His witch, on the other hand, <his witch? well, she had bound herself to him. She WAS his now> he reminded himself, (conveniently forgetting that he had always thought of the blonde as the other witch, and the redhead as "his" witch) she had fire enough in her to do anything. A smile drifted over his face as he remembered the bottle-in-the-face incident of a few years back. But she wasn't the type to cheat either. She was more the true-blue till-death-do-us-part kind of girl. She was the type to stay. Too bad her lovers all turned out to be the type to leave. No wonder she and the slayer got along so well. Not that the slayer was overwhelmingly loyal to her lovers (<bloody drives them away is more like it>, he thought), but she did know what it felt like to be dumped. He was interrupted in his thoughts by his witch's quiet response.

"Am I okay? No. I will be, eventually, but I'm not there yet. I know I made the right decision, but it still hurts. I still love her."

"Should we be expecting any `will-be-done' spells? Because if so, I'm totally taping your mouth shut." Buffy teased.

Willow laughed, and Spike wondered if the others could tell that it was forced. He knew she hated to be reminded of that fiasco. Hell, he'd brought it up himself several times for just that reason. But you'd think her friends would be a little more considerate. He shrugged. Apparently not.

"No, no spells this time. I'm handling my grieving the old fashioned way. Pass the cookies!" They all laughed at that. "But Buffy, if my memory serves, last time we were going to have a girl's night to celebrate my broken heart, you promised me we'd watch `Steel Magnolias' and you'd tell me that at least I don't have diabetes. Why don't we do that?"

"No, Wills, it's truth time. Come on, you agreed. You answered the question, so it's your turn to ask one." Dawn replied. There were some questions she had been dying to ask all the girls, and she wasn't about to be cheated out of her chance to find out the truth from the horse's mouth, for a change.

Spike settled in comfortably for the long haul. Buffy ate another cookie. Anya examined her recently painted nails. Dawn bounced in her seat, eager to continue. Willow sighed. It was going to be a very long night.

~Part: 16~

Spike sat with his back against the wall of the house, and lit up another cigarette as he thought about the girls in the house who were now fast asleep. The game had continued for over two hours, with a break in the middle when the girls had decided to make fudge. He had caught every word and nearly ruptured something he had laughed so hard. He had learned far more than he ever wanted to know about the sexual life of the moron and the demon and he now knew precisely how much the little Niblet liked him. It was, in fact, when the demon had asked her to describe her fantasies about him that she had stopped answering questions. She would be doing laundry for a month.

On the plus side, he had learned exactly what the slayer enjoyed in a lover; information that he carefully filed away. He had also learned that she wasn't precisely as immune to him as she liked to pretend. She would be kissing him for ten second the next time she saw him. Niblet had asked what she enjoyed most from the day of the will-be- done spell. The slayer had blushed scarlet and refused to answer.

The demon, it turned out, was to be spared the experience of petting a rabbit. They had been unable to find any question that she wasn't willing to answer. That had been expected. But they kept asking her questions, not in hopes of tripping her up, but to find out more about her. They realized that in all the time she had been involved with Xander, in all the time she had been a part of the Scooby gang, they had never bothered to really find out anything about her. If they had ignored the chance before, they had certainly seized it that night. They asked her about her life before vengeance, about how she enjoyed her new life after vengeance, and yes, they even asked a few questions about things she had done as a vengeance demon. And for the first time, they started to see her not just as Xander's girlfriend, or the ex-demon, or the blunt and literal minded member of the gang, but as a person.

And the witch… the witch was a whole different story. He grinned as he remembered how she had played her friends. She answered their questions, but she always managed to do it in such a way as to hold back information. No matter how they phrased the question, she replied to it in such a way as to keep something unsaid. She told them whatever they wanted to know about concrete subjects. Any action she had ever performed was open to dissection as she clearly recounted the what, when, where, why, and how. But her dream world, she kept to herself. Her fantasies and the objects of her fantasies remained unnamed. She answered every question, but she kept her secrets safe.

He grinned as he remembered how she had manipulated her friends. It was gracefully done; like some kind of dance. Spike sighed in pure appreciation. He wasn't used to being around intelligent women. Female vampires are turned based on their beauty, not their brains. Exhibit one: Harmony. The girl was pretty enough and a decent fuck, but he'd rather bathe in holy water than have a conversation with her. Dru had been smart enough, maybe, but it was kind of hard to tell with all her blathering about stars and dolls and whatnot. Darla had been cunning, but not all that bright. She had a one-track mind. She never weighed the consequences, or figured out different angles of approach. With her, the shortest distance between two points was always a straight line. Buffy was the same way. The witch, despite that act of sweet innocence, had a devious mind. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the back door opening. It caught him off- guard. He had thought they were all asleep. He picked up on the scent. It was the witch. She had seated herself on the back porch.

"You might as well come and keep me company." she whispered. "I brought you hot chocolate."

Was she talking to him?

"Oh, come on, Spike. I know you're there. Come out, before your hot chocolate gets cold."

Spike pinched out his cigarette and stood, walking over to where she sat. She smiled at him and wordlessly handed him the mug of hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows; just the way he liked it. She motioned for him to sit next to her. He did. They sat in silence for a moment, both sipping their mugs of hot chocolate.

"How long have you known I was here?" he finally asked.

"I felt you walk up at the end of `Say Anything,' when Diane goes to visit Lloyd and begs him to take her back. God, I love that part. Had you seen the movie before?"

"No." he answered, still in shock over her reply. She had felt him from the moment he arrived. Why hadn't she said anything?

"You should rent it. Great movie."

"How did you…"

"Know?"

"Yeah."

"Bond."

"Right." He cursed himself silently. He had thought the bond was too new for her to read it yet. Most people took a day or two before they understood what the bond was doing well enough to be able to interpret it. Once again, he had underestimated her. He sipped the hot chocolate again.

"This is good."

"Thanks."

"Tastes different."

"I add cinnamon."

"Oh."

Long pause.

"Why didn't you tell her?"

Willow shrugged. "I picked up on you through the bond. If Buffy had been paying attention, she'd have picked up on you through her slayer sense. It's not my fault she wasn't paying attention."

"That doesn't answer my question."

She grinned. "Ah, you noticed that?"

"Yes."

"Most people don't."

"Yeah, I heard."

Another pause.

"You still didn't answer the question."

"No, I guess I didn't."

"Are you going to?"

Willow sighed. For a moment, he thought she really wasn't going to answer. But then she spoke again. "Buffy didn't need slayer sense to know you were out there. You have a history of watching her through windows."

"How did you know…"

"If you don't want people to know you've been around, take your cigarette buts with you when you leave."

If it were possible, he would have blushed. Since it wasn't possible, he merely looked uncomfortable.

"What are you saying?"

"After the argument back at the crypt, she should have known you'd show up tonight. With or without slayer sense, she should have been on guard, keeping on eye on the windows. But she wasn't."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that there's a part of her that knew you were here and didn't want you to leave. If I had mentioned to her that you were here, I'd have forced her to get rid of you. I left the choice up to her. She chose to leave you here." Willow shrugged. "If she wanted you to hear her secrets, it makes no difference to me. And I don't think the others would mind too much. Anya certainly won't care that you overheard. Dawnie might be a little embarrassed if she finds out that you were listening, but she'll get over it. Besides, she stopped before she said anything too bad."

"What about you?"

"I knew you were there."

"That's right, you did. Will you answer a question for me?"

"Are we playing truth or dare?" she answered, smiling at him again.

"Would you like to?" he answered with a grin of his own.

"Doesn't matter." she answered with a shrug. "Ask away, but I don't promise I'll answer."

"Fair enough." he replied. "Here's something I'm curious about. You've always been scared of me, even when I got chipped. When you first came to visit me this morning, you were still scared of me. But now you're not. First question, why aren't you scared of me anymore?"

A slow smile crossed her face. "Lots of reasons, really. First of all, I know you can't bite me, but that doesn't mean you don't have friends who can. When I came over this morning, I didn't know if I'd find you alone." Her fingers unconsciously rubbed against a spot on her neck. When her fingers moved, he saw the very faint scars from the beginning of a bite. A memory flashed back to him of Harmony complaining while he tried to ignore her. Something about how she had started to bite the witch and had gotten stopped.

He reached out and gently ran his fingers over the scar. "Harmony?" he asked. She shivered slightly from the feel of his cool fingers against her warm neck, but didn't pull away. She nodded.

"So that was my first reason. Second reason: I was coming to ask a favor from you, and I didn't know how you'd react. Third, I knew I'd probably be waking you up. Angel was always grouchy when we woke him up."

"And fourth?" he asked. She grinned in reply, a grin that was decidedly devious.

"You like it when we're scared." she answered. "It makes you feel like the Big Bad. So I played it up just a teensy bit to put you in a good mood."

He chuckled. Yes, the chit was certainly smart.

"But why aren't you scared of me now?"

"Why should I be scared?" she answered. "I belong to you. No one will hurt me when they sense your claim. Besides, you're not doing me any favors now. We have a deal. A trade, right? Something I want for something you want. I'm not worried about you rejecting me when I know I have something you need."

"Clever girl." he said with a smile.

"Not really, just sensible." she answered.

"Why did your witch leave?" he answered, hoping to catch her off- guard. He wanted to get an honest response out of her. He watched her closely and saw her flinch. The pain in her expression passed quickly, but he caught it, nonetheless.

"She left because she had no reason to stay." Willow answered, her expression deliberately blank. "She hasn't liked this town since she found out what goes bump in the night. She stayed and helped to be supportive of me, but she finally reached her limit. I've been trying to teach her to stand up for herself, you know? Not to let people walk all over her. Well," she said, with a slightly bitter laugh, "it worked."

Spike winced in sympathy. To that, he could relate. He remembered all the time he had devoted to taking care of Drusilla and bringing her back to full strength. And then, when he had finally succeeded in restoring his princess, she had used her newfound strength to push him as far from her as possible. "What happened, pet?" he asked, and neither of them noticed how gentle his voice had become.

"She didn't like the idea of the bond." Willow answered. "The way she saw it, it was Buffy's problem and we didn't need to be involved. She said Buffy had options; that she could either suck it up and agree to bond to you, or she could summon the First herself, and chose to die after the ritual instead, but that either way, it wasn't our problem. I told her that I had a chance to save the world and that I was going to take it. She told me that if I bonded to you, it was over between the two of us and she'd be leaving town on the next bus." Willow sighed. There was no bitterness in it now, just sadness. "She's long gone by now. It's probably for the best. I had no right to drag her into this kind of life. She was right. There was no reason for her to stay."

Spike was overcome with the unfamiliar urge to comfort her. He struggled for something to say. "She did love you, you know."

Willow turned to face him and smiled again, a smile that was so incredibly sweet and so impossibly sad that it wrenched something in his dead heart. "I know." she whispered. "She loved me. Just not enough to stay. They never love me enough to stay." She looked away so he wouldn't see the tears welling up, yet again, in her eyes. She didn't realize he could smell them.

His mind raced, trying to come up with a way to stop her tears. <Distract her!> he thought. <Come up with something to distract her.>

"So, pet, what happened with Xapper and that pig?"

"What?" she said, turning to face him again. He hid a grin at the sight of the complete bewilderment on her face. He was rather proud of himself. For once, he had caught her totally off guard.

"The yarn you were telling me about the moron when he turned into a hyena. So what happened then?"

He could tell that she knew why he was doing this. He could tell that it surprised her. And he could tell that she decided to relax, and just go with it. She continued her story.

Spike had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard by the time she was done. He hadn't tried to hide his enjoyment of the story this time around, and she was smiling, smugly, content in knowing she had told a good tale. She stretched and yawned.

"Tired, pet?" Spike asked.

"No, not really." she answered.

"You should be." he replied. "The spell alone must have worn you out, not to mention how long you've been awake tonight."

"I don't sleep much." she responded. "Back in high school, I'd be up all night researching or patrolling and then I'd still have to go to school in the morning. I got in the habit of doing without sleep."

"Doesn't seem to have stopped the others." he said, nodding in the direction of the living room, where he could hear the slayer snoring softly.

Willow giggled. "Buffy and Xander always fell asleep during the research sessions. Maybe if we'd woken them up, they'd have gotten used to doing without sleep, too, but Giles and I got more research done when they were…ahem… out of commission. So we figured we might as well let them get their rest. Not to mention the fact that they had no problem falling asleep during class. I was the one who always tried to stay awake and eventually I got used to it. I've gotten to the point where I get sluggish if I sleep more than a few hours a night. Tara used to—" She cut herself off abruptly. "Besides, I'm not used to sleeping alone." she finished, softly.

He sighed. He knew exactly what she meant. Maybe part of the reason he was working so hard to keep her there on the porch with him was because he didn't want to go home to his empty crypt and go to sleep alone again. But he knew it was time for him to leave. He stood.

"Well, pet, tired or not, you should try to get some sleep. Keep in mind, you have a date for two o'clock."

"That's right." she answered with a grin. "Have to rest up for that." She gathered the mugs and moved back toward the door. She turned when she reached it to smile back at him one last time. "Good night, Spike."

"Good night, pet." he answered, and watched a moment longer after she disappeared into the house. Then he pulled out another cigarette, lit it, and walked away.

~Part: 17~

Buffy had been talking continuously for the past twenty minutes. Willow had stopped listening after five. Willow was currently running through her vowel-sounds-noncommittal responses, whenever a response seemed to be called for. Um, ah, oh, eh, uh-huh, unh-unh, etc. Buffy didn't seem to notice. Willow felt a little bad for tuning out her friend, but Buffy had been ranting unendingly about being forced to kiss Spike, and Willow was more than a little tired of hearing about it. They were, in fact, on their way to the crypt. Buffy had decided it was best to get it over with, so she was joining Willow for her two o'clock "date" with Spike. On the bright side, Buffy was carrying some of the heavy ingredients that Willow had had to bring. Slayer strength on trips like this was definitely a plus. On the down side, Buffy had not stopped complaining.

Willow didn't see what the big deal was. Sure, there's the whole I'm- kissing-a-corpse-with-no-body-temperature thing that comes into play, but that didn't seem to be a problem for Buffy after all those make out sessions with Angel. Willow was sure that Spike was a good kisser. After all, the man had over a century of experience and he didn't need to breathe. He could kiss a girl for days. Willow shivered slightly at the thought. Anyway, it was just for ten seconds. So why all the whining? <Methinks the lady doth protest too much.> Willow thought. But it didn't matter. They were at the crypt and, complaints or not, it would all be over soon.

Spike could hear the two heartbeats outside of the crypt. The witch. And the slayer. Spike grinned. <It must be time for her to pay up on the dare> he thought <and she wants the witch to chaperone. How sweet.> He waited for a knock. None came. Remembering last time, and the witch's pledge of punctuality, he checked his watch. Two o'clock precisely. So what was the hold up?

Outside the crypt, Buffy was trying to back out.

"Maybe I shouldn't do this now." she said. "You need to do your spell thing and I'll just be in the way, so I can come back some other time. Tonight, maybe! Or tomorrow! Or you know, this isn't urgent, it could wait till next wee—"

"Buffy, stop it." Willow replied, trying to keep from laughing at the sight of the fearless slayer attempting to subtly run away. "You know that Dawn will never leave you alone till you do this. Besides, waiting will only make you stress over it more. Let's do this and get it over with."

They heard Spike's voice yell through the door.

"Come in already! If you're waiting for me to come out and greet you, you'll be waiting a bloody long time. Sunset isn't for hours."

Buffy still looked uncertain. Willow sighed.

"Well, I'm going in. You can come in with me or you can stand out here all day. It's up to you." And with that, opened the door and walked inside. Buffy stood in the doorway for a moment, alone, still searching for an escape clause to get her out of the whole situation. When she didn't find one, she gritted her teeth, and entered.

Willow was seated on the floor, setting up a circle for the first part of the spell. She didn't look up when Buffy finally shut the door and joined them inside. Spike was leaning against the end of his bed, smoking a cigarette.

"Slayer." Spike purred. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Buffy flushed and turned pleading to look at Willow. <When did I become designated interpreter?> Willow wondered. She started to say no, to tell Buffy that this was something she would have to handle herself, but Buffy looked at her so very beseechingly, that she finally gave in.

"Spike, we were playing Truth or Dare last night and Dawn dared Buffy to kiss you. That's why she's here. It has to be at least ten seconds, with tongue, and if you try to take any kind of advantage of the situation, she'll beat you until you beg to be staked. Does that about sum it up?"

Buffy's blush had turned scarlet, but she managed to nod in agreement.

"How very… interesting." Spike stated, in the same silky, purring tone, stalking forward slowly until he was standing directly in front of Buffy. He reached up to brush back a lock of hair from her face. Her jaw clenched, but she remained still. "So you expect me to stand idly by and keep my hands to myself, while you spend ten seconds trifling with my… affections? What's in it for me, slayer?"

Buffy was still blushing bright red, but she was getting angry now as well.

"You get to kiss me." she spat out. "Isn't that what you want?"

"I'll be kissing you anyway." he said. "Sweeten the pot a bit. Motivate me."

"I can't believe I have to put up with this." Buffy murmured.

"You don't." Spike replied, walking away from her to resume his position, leaning against the bed. "If you can do this without me, then there's the door. Don't let it hit you on your way out."

"You don't need to be awake for this, you know." Buffy replied, storming forward to get in his face again. "I can beat you till you pass out and then kiss you when you're unconscious. If I'm not going to enjoy this, why should you?"

"You enjoyed it last time, pet. Don't you remember how you moaned when I—"

"That was a spell!" Buffy hissed.

"The spell made you love me, slayer. There was nothing in there to make you want me. You did that all on your own. When you begged me for more" he whispered, leaning forward to speak directly into her ear, "it had nothing to do with love. It was need. A need no one has been filling since soldier boy left, right?" He leaned in a little bit closer, let his body just barely brush against hers, taking in the way she was gasping for air and stammering for words to respond. "Am I right… love?" he asked, slowly.

Buffy started searching frantically for a stake. Willow stood. Things had gone far enough.

"Conglacio!"

Buffy and Spike froze in place. Literally.

Willow was ready to scream. She simply could not believe that with all that was going on, they would waste her time and their energy in such ridiculous behavior. She closed her eyes and lofted a quick prayer to the Goddess to give her patience. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself enough to speak coherently, and then walked over to the frozen pair.

"Buffy, your sister is the key to a mystical portal that will unleash hell on earth. Spike, you have agreed to perform a ritual that could conceivably destroy you. The world is trying to end. I really don't think this is the time for bickering and acting like children. Buffy, if you stake Spike, he can't save the world and you will either have to die, kill Dawn, or watch the world end. Spike, if you keep taunting Buffy she will beat you to a bleeding pulp and there won't be a damn thing you can do about it. Buffy, you want to get the dare over with. Spike, you want to kiss the slayer. So shut the hell up and get it over with so Buffy can leave and we can move on, already!"

She walked back over to where she had set up the ingredients, and reseated herself on the ground. As she continued to arrange the different herbs and potions, she spoke again.

"If the destruction of everything you value isn't enough motivation to keep you from acting like spoiled children, then remember this. I'm a heart-broken, pissed-off witch who is sleep-deprived, sick from too much chocolate, and still sore from the ritual last night that bound me to a soulless demon. Believe me when I say you do not want to make me cranky today." She sighed. "When I snap my fingers, the spell will end and you'll be able to move again. I do not want to hear a word out of either of you. I want to hear ten seconds of kissing and then I want to hear the sound of the door shutting as Buffy leaves. Blink if I have made myself perfectly clear." They both blinked. Willow snapped her fingers.

Buffy started to open her mouth to speak. Spike noticed and immediately attacked her mouth with his. He was not about to piss off the witch, and he wouldn't let the slayer do it either. He kissed her hard, completely distracting her from whatever she had planned to say. She didn't have the chance to shut her mouth and he took immediate advantage of the opportunity presented. She kissed him back. Hard. Still angry. Fighting him, like she always did. He fought back, attacking her with his lips and tongue and arms clasped tightly around her.

From her position on the floor, Willow rolled her eyes. <Why does everything have to be so daytime drama between the two of them?> she wondered.

"Alright." she said quietly, wondering if they could even hear her. "The ten seconds are over."

Buffy showed no signs of noticing, but Spike pulled away, releasing the slayer who was shaking with… anger? passion? fury? or maybe all three. As smirk crossed his face as he watched her standing there, speechless at last. He nonchalantly walked away from her, deliberately turning his back to her, as he went to get a cigarette off the table. He lit it and turned to face her again, exhaling the smoke in her direction. He saw her face turn a furious red and knew she was approaching her boiling point.

"Goodbye, Buffy." Willow said softly, without looking up. "I'll come back by your place later, once I'm done here."

Buffy turned to look at Willow in surprise. It is quite possible that she had forgotten the other girl was even there. She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. She did this a few more times, looking remarkably like a fish. Finally, her mouth snapped shut, and she bolted out the door, slamming it harshly behind her. Willow winced at the bang that it made, but did not look up.

~Part: 18~

Spike strolled over and seated himself across the circle from Willow, still smoking his cigarette as he watched her begin at last to combine the ingredients in the small, portable cauldron she had brought. For a few long moments, they sat in silence. She ignored him, concentrating solely on the items in front of her. Spike was growing impatient. He hated being ignored. But he knew he had to let her speak first, unless he wanted to put the little witch in a very bad mood. When she finally spoke, he expected it to be about the ritual. Maybe she'd tell him exactly what she was brewing in the cauldron of hers, or maybe she'd describe the processes and stages they had to go through. Or maybe she would scold him again for how he had treated the slayer, telling him he was being childish or cruel. But she surprised him, yet again.

"You'll never get her to love you if you keep kissing her like that." she stated without looking up, as calmly as if she had commented on the weather.

By chance (or was it deliberate?) she made her comment right as he was inhaling his cigarette and he starting coughing as the shock made the smoke go down the wrong way. She still didn't look up, but when he looked closely, he saw a slightly wicked little smile on her face. Whether she was deliberately trying to make him choke or not, she was unquestionably pleased with the result.

"What did you say?" he demanded, when the choking finally stopped.

Willow looked up at him with a single eyebrow raised. She held his gaze for a moment, then rolled her eyes and returned to what she had been doing.

"Well?" Spike asked, when he could stand the silence no longer.

"Give me a shirt." Willow said, looking up at him at last.

"Is that some new way of changing the subject?" Spike asked.

"I need a shirt." she answered, impatiently.

"What's wrong with the one you're wearing?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "I need one of your shirts. Doesn't matter which one, but you should pick something comfortable. It'll have to be the shirt you wear when you fight Glory."

"Fine." he replied, placing his cigarette on the ground. In a smooth motion, he pulled off the black t-shirt he was wearing. "Will this do, pet?" he asked, smirking, pleased to have the chance to throw her off balance. His smirk grew when he saw how she blushed, and tried to avoid looking at him.

<I'm gay now, I'm gay now, I'm gay now> Willow chanted over and over again to herself. <I don't care how well built the now shirtless vampire sitting only a few feet away from me may be. Not gonna look. Nope! Not me. Not interested. Gay now.>

"It'll do." she mumbled, taking the shirt from him and laying it out, still refusing to look at him.

"So what is it you're doing to the shirt, anyway?" he asked. As amusing as it was to embarrass the witch to the point where she was speechless, he was decidedly curious about what she was doing.

"Blessing it." she answered.

"Um, pet. That blessing wouldn't happen to include holy water, would it?"

"Now, there's a thought." she muttered.

"Come on, witch. I know how you love to play teacher. So tell me what you're doing, already. You know you want to." Spike wheedled in his best teasing/manipulating voice.

"It's being blessed by my Goddess, Spike. No crosses, no holy water, no Christianity whatsoever."

"So why are you blessing my shirt?"

"You can't call on the First and expect an immediate answer. It takes a week of petitions first." Willow explained patiently. "It's the same petition every day, and on every day, you have to form a link. The shirt will provide a link. Your shirt, blessed by the Goddess, will allow you to directly call the First. It starts off with your shirt for the first day. I anoint it with the potion and then you perform the petition. Tomorrow, we'll do the same thing to your skin. Fingernail clippings would work. Do your fingernails still grow?" she asked, and he smiled at the curiosity in her voice.

"They keep growing. Don't know why, really. They're supposed to stop six months after you die. Hair keeps growing, too. Bloody annoying, really. With no mirrors, I have to count on other people letting me know when I need to re-bleach my hair."

She giggled at the thought of Spike beating up another vamp, bending over the guy while pummeling him into the ground and asking him if his roots were showing.

"Okay, so fingernail clippings tomorrow. Third day, we'll mix the potion with some of your blood. The fourth day, I bless your hand. The fifth day, I bless your mind, anointing your forehead, specifically. The sixth day, I bless your heart. The final day, you drink the potion. The link will be in place and you will be able to call the First directly into you through the link you've formed."

"Well, that's just…" he took a pull off the cigarette, then exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift out, "neat." he concluded, the smirk firmly back in place.

"Glad you approve." she replied, dryly.

"Alright" she said, standing up and brushing off her hands. "The shirt is done. Now you need to make the petition. Can you read Latin?" He nodded. "Good. Which direction is east?" He pointed to a corner of the room. Vampires never get lost; they can always feel the direction of the coming dawn. Better than a compass. Just one of the perks of being a soulless demon.

Willow pulled four candles from her bag and set one up in each direction: north, south, east and west. She lit them carefully, muttering a brief incantation over each one. Finally, she pulled the book out of her bag and opened it to the carefully marked page.

"Here's the incantation." she said, handing the book to Spike. "Read the first section facing east, the second section facing south, third section to the west and the fourth section facing north. And put out your cigarette."

Grumbling, he pinched out the cigarette and tossed it to the side. He took the book and skimmed over the incantation. He fought the urge to shiver. This was really happening. He was really going to call the First. For a moment he felt almost… nervous. But he forced himself to shake it off. He could handle this. He was the Big Bad. He was William the Bloody. He was one fourth of the Scourge of Europe. He could do this. Hell Goddess? The bitch was going down. In a steady voice, he recited the incantation. It was surprisingly straightforward and to the point. <Guess they figured whoever did this better damn well know what they were getting themselves into.> he thought. <Not a problem.>

When the incantation was finished, the candles flared. Spike felt a rush go through him, and then a fiery sensation, like holy water or daylight. He looked over to where the witch was standing. The light illuminated her, and the sight of her was breathtaking. He wondered if that was what she looked like in the sunlight. Before he had a chance to analyze the sight, it was gone. The candles blew themselves out. Willow walked over to him and took back the spellbook. Calmly and methodically, she began repacking her bags.

"Could I leave the ingredients here?" she asked. "It's a pain in the neck to drag them back and forth."

"Sure, pet. Not a problem." Spike replied automatically, as he stood, unmoving. He was still disoriented from the feelings the ritual had caused.

"Well, that's all that we can do today." Willow said, standing and lifting the backpack she was taking with her. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Sure." he answered, still in a daze.

"Then I guess I'll see you then." she stated, heading for the door.

"Witch!" he called out before she could leave.

"Yes, Spike?" she answered, turning to face him again.

"How should I kiss her?"

"What?"

"You said I'll never get the slayer to love me if I keep kissing her like that. So how should I kiss her?"

Willow's brow furrowed as she thought this out.

"Kiss her with the man in you, not the demon." she finally answered.

"What?"

"You kiss her like you're trying to break down her resistance by force. She's the slayer, Spike. If you try to break her down, she'll just fight you back. She'd never let a demon defeat her. Don't make it into a contest, or a battle of wills." He looked confused. She rolled her eyes. "Be gentle with her. Kiss her like you love her, instead of like you're trying to break her apart."

Now it was his brow that was furrowed in thought.

"I'm not sure I know how to do that." he admitted softly.

Willow looked at him and sighed. He looked so lost. In his defense, she knew that this was a new thing for him. Most vampiresses probably liked it rough. Courting a human was unfamiliar territory.

A wicked thought entered her head. Her good sense tried to banish it, but it wouldn't go away. After all, she was on the rebound, he was convenient, he looked damn fine without a shirt on, and he seemed to require a demonstration of how to kiss. Why not? It was just one kiss. It wouldn't mean anything.

Putting down her bag, she walked over until she was standing directly in front of him. Tilting her head back, she looked up into his eyes and grinned at him before sliding her arms around his neck.

"It goes something like this." she whispered, pulling his lips down to hers.

Spike was shocked at the rush of pure pleasure that shot through him when the witch slid her soft, warm hands over his bare shoulders and around his neck. He could not remember the last time he had felt warm hands on him intent on giving pleasure instead of pain. It felt heavenly. But that was wiped away a moment later when he first made contact with her very soft, very warm, very tempting lips.

She kissed him gently, just brushing her lips over his. Her fingertips traced small circles on the back of his neck as she pulled him closer. He responded by wrapping his arms tightly around her and attempting to deepen the kiss. She let him hold her close, but pulled her lips away from his.

"Gently." she whispered in his ear. "Show some control. Kiss me with the man in you, not the demon. You have eternity; what's the rush? Humans who know what they're doing take their time." It's possible her words were wasted, since all thought flew out of his head as she placed a series of small, wet kisses from just below his ear across his jaw and back to his lips. She began slowly kissing his mouth, tracing the shape of his lips with small darts of her tongue followed by smooth pressure from her own lips, as if she was trying to absorb the precise flavor and texture of his mouth. Following her example, his grip on her became less harsh. His lips moved gently against hers, letting her set the pace. He shivered with pleasure as her hands slowly explored his back, memorizing that as well. Finally, breathless, she pulled her lips away. Still in his arms, she looked up into his eyes and whispered the last of her explanation.

"That's how you kiss like a man. Don't make it into a battle. Don't try to force her into submission. It won't work. Don't make it about winning and losing. Kiss her softly." She pulled out of his arms and headed over to the door, picking up her bag. Just before she walked out the door, she spoke one more time, facing him with an impish grin on her face.

"Leave her wanting more."

Then the door was shut behind her and she was gone.

Willow felt her blush darken with each step that she took away from the crypt. She couldn't believe she had just done that. What on earth had she been thinking? Was it some kind of buzz from the incantation? Did it have to do with the bond? What would he think of her now? What would the gang think if they heard of it? Would he tell them? Did he enjoy it? (Well, she was pretty sure she knew the answer to that. She had felt his… enjoyment rubbing against her lower stomach when he pulled her close.) Would she ever be able to look him in the eye again? Was he even now comparing her to Buffy? Oh, Goddess, what would Buffy think? These questions and a million more rushed through her brain.

Meanwhile, back at the crypt, Spike stood shock still right where she had left him. Only one thought ran through his mind.

"What the hell was that?"

~Part: 19~

Dawn and Anya had breakfast while Buffy and Willow went to Spike's crypt. Well, maybe it was more like lunch since it was, after all, two o'clock in the afternoon, but it was the first meal of the day. And it was breakfast food. Sort of. Do pancakes with peanut butter count as breakfast food?

Breakfast (a.k.a. brunch) was a relatively silent meal. Anya was still half-asleep. Dawn was wide-awake, but nervous. Dawn had a favor she wanted to ask of Anya. This made things a bit awkward. Herein lies the problem; Dawn had always been a little jealous of Anya (or rather, she had memories that told her she had always been jealous of Anya) because Anya and Xander were such a happy couple, and Dawn had wanted Xander for herself. But now Dawn had a plan; well, she had the beginnings of a plan; and she wanted Anya's help. She tried phrasing it a million different ways in her head, but none of them sounded right. Obviously thinking it out carefully wasn't working, so midway through her second stack of pancakes, Dawn finally blurted it out.

"Anya, if a guy has a crush on the wrong girl and you want him to have a crush on, well, the right girl, how would you convince him?"

One of the very nice things about Anya was that nothing ever surprised her. You could ask her any question from her favorite color to what positions she preferred during sex and she would immediately and unhesitatingly provide an honest answer. This case was no exception.

"If the `right girl' offers sex, and the `wrong girl' doesn't, that would be enough to convince most men. But are we talking about you? Are you the `right girl?' Because if you are, don't have sex. Xander has made it very clear to me that you're too young and I shouldn't encourage you have any sex yet."

"No! It's not me." Dawn hastily reassured Anya. "No sex for me, I promise. It's for Willow."

"You want Willow to have sex?"

"No!" Dawn answered. "Well, maybe not no, but certainly not yet. But I do want to fix her up with this guy. He's in love with a girl who's totally wrong for him. I think Willow could make him happy, and I think he could make Willow happy."

Anya's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I thought Willow was gay now."

Dawn shrugged. "She says she is. But I don't think it's exactly true. I mean, she didn't love Tara because she was a girl any more than she loved Oz because he was a boy. She loved them for who they were. Willow needs someone to love. And I think she could love this guy. He needs someone to love him."

"So you want to fix up Willow with Spike?"

Long pause while Dawn tried to gain control over her gaping mouth.

"How did you know?"

Anya shrugged. "Well, he's definitely in love with the wrong girl. He and Buffy make each other miserable. Heaven knows he needs to be loved; he even hooked up with Harmony so he wouldn't be alone. I know you like him. And I know you like Willow. And I saw the look in your eye last night when I told you about the ritual. You think it's romantic, don't you?"

Dawn blushed. "Well, yeah."

Anya shrugged again. "It can be romantic. It has been before. But it isn't yet. Not for them. What makes you think they'd be a good couple?"

"Well," Dawn explained, "I woke up in the middle of the night and needed a glass of water, and when I went to the kitchen to get it, I heard voices from the back porch. It was Spike and Willow. They were talking and laughing. And they just seemed so comfortable around each other. I've never seen Spike look that relaxed. Willow was enjoying herself, too, I could tell. And I started thinking: both of them are in love with people who are making them miserable. Maybe if they fell in love with each other, they could be…"

"Happy?"

"Yeah."

"Good idea."

A huge smile lit of Dawn's face. "Really? You think it's a good idea."

"Yeah," Anya said, smiling back, "I do."

"Then you'll help me? Oh, this is great. Because you're, like, a grown-up and you have a car, and I don't know if we'll actually need a car because I don't know what we'll have to do to fix the two of them up, but it's nice to know, you know, in the back of your head that if something comes up and we need a car that yeah, we've got the car thing covered, and you have an apartment where we can hide things and meet and make plans because if we try to talk about it around here, Buffy's bound to be snooping and you know how she gets whenever anyone mentions Spike, and—"

"You want me to help?" Anya interrupted.

"Well, yeah."

Anya grinned. "Okay. This'll be fun! I've never fixed up a couple before. Except, you know, for those times where scorned women wished for their husbands or boyfriends to fall in love with their dog, or the very large and homophobic blacksmith, or—"

"This'll be a little different from that." Dawn interjected.

"Oh, I know." Anya replied. "This time, we want them to be happy. And we're going to do that. We're going to make them happy."

"That's absolutely right." said Dawn, grinning back at her and nearly bouncing in her seat with excitement. "We are. We just need to keep this between the two of us for now. After all, Xander and Buffy can't stand Spike."

Anya smiled smugly. "When the time comes, Xander will be very supportive of the relationship. I'll see to that. But you're right about Buffy. She'd be furious if she knew we were trying to fix up Willow and Spike."

"Yeah, she's always saying that Spike is evil and dangerous and disgusting and on and on and on. It's, like, her favorite topic of conversation; how repulsive Spike is."

"Repulsive." Anya snorted. "Is she blind? Okay, evil; that I understand. Spike is definitely evil. And dangerous. And unreliable. But that body, those eyes, that accent… if she's repulsed, then she's either tasteless or in denial."

Buffy stormed back in, in an obvious rage. "Stupid damn undead bastard. As if I even WANTED to kiss him; as if I would have ever even CONSIDERED laying a finger on him if it weren't for that stupid DARE. He knows that I don't want him, he knows that I find him REPULSIVE. I can't BELIEVE I had to do that. Of all the DISGUSTING thing that I've ever had to do, …"

Buffy continued in this vein for several minutes. Dawn rolled her eyes at Anya and winked. Anya grinned. And winked back. And both girls returned to their pancakes.

~Part: 20~

Spike heard a knock on the crypt door. <It's turning into a regular Grand Central Station around here.> he thought to himself, before yelling for the person to come in. He was the slightest bit curious. He could tell that it wasn't the slayer or the witch, but he could hear a human heart beat, and the scent, even through the door, was faintly familiar. Maybe the moron was coming to beat him up for bonding to the witch? Hardly seemed likely. If he was coming to beat him up or threaten him, it didn't seem probable that he'd knock. Who then? When no one entered, Spike grew impatient and yanked the door open. Standing in the sunlight, biting her lip nervously, was Niblet.

Spike raised an eyebrow at her. "Big sis know you're here this time?" he asked. "Because I don't fancy getting knocked around just for inviting you in."

Dawn shook her head. "Buffy thinks I'm over at Janice's. She won't be looking for me for another few hours. Janice knows I'm here. If Buffy calls, she'll just say I'm in the bathroom or something."

Spike smirked a little at the thought of the slayer's little sister lying to her family and sneaking around to hang out with a vampire. "Come in, then." he said, stepping away from the doorway to let her pass. "Make yourself at home."

Dawn walked in quietly, and stood in the middle of the floor, still twisting her hands and biting her lip. A slight frown crossed Spike's face. Niblet had always been comfortable around him. Made him feel like a bleeding ponce at first, when she told him that she trusted him and felt safe with him, but deep down, he liked it. He liked knowing that as much as Buffy and Xander and even Giles hated him most of the time, his Niblet was always happy to see him. But she was never this nervous around him. What was wrong?

"So what's troubling you, Little Bit?" he asked, in as casual a voice as he could manufacture. Had Buffy said something to her? Did she hate him now, too?

She turned to face him where he stood, leaning against the wall and watching her.

"I came… to ask… I mean, I have a question… and… well… I wanted to know…"

"Bloody hell, pet, we'll never get anywhere this way. Okay, you have a question, right?"

She nodded.

"Is it about Glory?"

She shook her head.

"Is it about being the Key? Because I told you, I don't know any more besides what we read when we broke into the Magic Box." She shook her head again.

"Is it about a demon?" Shook her head. "A human?" She nodded this time.

"Ah, progress." he stated. "I always was good at twenty questions. This has nothing to do with a breadbox, does it?" he asked.

She threw him a quizzical look.

"Guess not then. Don't fret about it, pet. I just spent too much time playing twenty questions with Harmony."

Dawn rolled her eyes, and Spike could see that she understood perfectly.

"Okay, so you have a question about a human. Is it the slayer?"

Dawn shook her head and attempted once again to speak. This time she had slightly better success.

"No, it's…. it's about Willow."

"Well you didn't have to go and give the thing away, love. The witch was going to be my next guess. Okay then, so you have a question about the witch. Don't know why you'd ask me. You know her a lot better than I do. But go ahead and ask."

"What are your…"

"What are my what, pet?"

"What are your intentions toward Willow?"

For a moment Spike simply stared at her, uncomprehendingly. Then he started to laugh. Very hard. For a very long time.

Dawn was starting to get annoyed. She had no idea why he was laughing at her. She had been afraid that he would be angry, that he would yell at her, that he would be offended, but she had never even considered the possibility that he would be amused. The Summers' temper began to rise. With her hands on her hips, she spoke again, this time in a much louder voice that held no hint of hesitation.

"Willow is one of the most important people in my life and she has just bound herself to a soulless demon who reminds us every five seconds that he's still evil. So, yes. I was worried. I still AM worried. But you've always been honest with me before so I THOUGHT that I could come here and ask you what you're going to do to her, if you're going to hurt her, but if all you're going to do is LAUGH at me then I'm going to LEAVE." With that, she stormed off in the direction of the door, determined to get as far away from Spike as possible. Coming to the crypt had been a mistake.

But Spike grabbed her arm before she could reach the door. His eyes were still dancing and even when he tried, he couldn't get rid of the grin on his face, but the audible laughter had stopped. Dawn could tell he was making a deliberate effort to pull himself together.

"I'm sorry, pet." he said, as contritely as he could manage. "I didn't mean to laugh at you. It was just the way you phrased the question that caught me off guard. It's the kind of thing men ask the boys who are dating their daughters. But I promise you, my intentions are purely honorable." His eyes twinkled even more as he said this and Dawn knew he was still laughing at her, though he was doing a better job of controlling it.

Dawn pulled away from his grip and turned to face him. Her burst of temper had passed and she looked like she was close to tears. Suddenly Spike no longer felt like laughing. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again.

"Are you going to hurt her, Spike?"

"No." he said, gently but firmly, maintaining unblinking eye contact with her. "I won't hurt her. I promise."

With her temper faded and that sad look in her eyes, it was hard to believe that she was a contrived creation built to house a mystical artifact. She didn't look like an artifact. She didn't look ancient or mystical. She looked like a scared little girl whose world was in chaos. And for better or for worse, in the form that the monks had given her and with the memories that they had provided, that was exactly what she was. "Buffy always used to promise Mom that she wouldn't tease me, but she did it anyway." Dawn smiled, a wistful little smile. "At least, that's what my memories tell me. They tell me that you've kept your word before, but I don't know what's true anymore. Do you keep your promises, Spike?"

"Yes, Niblet." he said gently, raising a hand to gently brush a lock out hair out of her face. He smiled wryly when he realized that she didn't shrink away from his touch. She shouldn't trust him. But she did, anyway. "I keep my promises. I won't hurt the witch. I'll keep her as safe as I can. I promise."

"Why did you do it, Spike? Why did you bind Willow to you? She would have kept her word and taken out the chip."

Spike sighed. He knew she was right. Willow would have found a way to take out the chip. She wasn't the type to break her word. What response could he give? <To piss off the slayer, mostly.> would have been the most honest answer. That was why he had done it. But now that it was done, it was becoming less and less about the slayer. He liked the fact that the witch belonged to him. He liked the fact that she was required to be near him, to spend time with him. He liked that she wasn't nervous around him and that she'd talk to him for hours. He liked the way she talked, the way she told stories, the way she smelled and gods below, the way she kissed. And yes, the fact that it annoyed the slayer was definitely a bonus. But he couldn't admit any of that. Not to Niblet, not even to himself. He was a vampire. Vampires fall in love with humans all the time. They lust after them or obsess over them and usually turn them in the end. But vampires weren't supposed to like humans, weren't supposed to enjoy spending time with humans. Vampires weren't supposed to have friends.

"Doesn't matter, Niblet." he answered without looking at her. "It'll all be over soon. I'll save the world, the witch will get rid of my chip, and then I'll release her and go along my merry way. I've already been in this town for too long."

He looked up at her then, and smiled. The smile was surprisingly gentle, almost affectionate, but his eyes were tired. Very tired.

"So was that all, love?" he asked gently. "Was that all you wanted to know?"

"There's one more thing I wanted to ask." she answered cautiously.

"Oh? What is that?"

"Vampires sleep, right?"

A confused look crossed his face. He didn't know where she was going with this.

"Yeah." he finally answered. "Vampires sleep."

"Well," she continued, "I know I could never fight you, chip or not, but you do have to sleep. And if you hurt Willow, I'll find you when you're sleeping and you'll never wake back up. Okay?"

Spike grinned at that, and some of the tired look left his eyes. "Okay, Niblet." he answered. "I understand."

Satisfied that she had made her point, Dawn headed for the door. She smiled as she exited the crypt. She had wanted to be sure, before she and Anya started Operation Matchmaker, that she could truly trust Spike with her Willow. But now she was sure. They'd be happy together. Very happy. She'd see to that. And if they weren't, there was always plan B. She'd just have to track down Spike while he was sleeping.

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