“Spike.” Angel called out softly as his childe crossed the street
in front of him, oblivious to his surroundings. When he did
not respond, Angel called out again, louder this
time. “Spike.”
“Heard you the first time, Peaches,” Spike replied.
“What happened?”
“What, you don’t know? The cheerleader didn’t have a vision to tell you what was going on? What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Cordelia had a vision.”
“And…?”
“Willow’s in trouble.”
“And?”
“And what, Spike? That’s all I know. Why aren’t you concerned? You are her sire, after all.”
“Not anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s gone, Angelus. My Red is gone.”
“She can’t be…. I would have felt…”
“Not dead, you Poof. Gone. She’s not mine anymore.”
“Yes she is, Spike. She just has a soul now.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve lost her. She doesn’t want me anymore. I disgust her.”
“No, Spike… she doesn’t mean…”
“She called me weak for having a bloody chip in my skull. And for loving her. She doesn’t really love me.”
“She’s confused. Give her time.”
“Time. Yeah, we’ve got plenty of that now, don’t we? The rest of eternity, unless we happen to collide with a twig. Well, it’s a bloody long time to spend alone.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, I could go back and have Red tell me how much she despises me for loving her.”
“That’s not what I’m suggesting.”
“Pray tell, oh mighty Poofalus, what *did* you have in mind?”