Falling Backwards

Author: Jami

Parts: 21 - 30

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~Part: 21~

Angel was pacing, back and forth, back and forth, only stopping when he heard the knock on his apartment door. Crossing the room quickly, he swung open the door and smiled nervously at the tiny blonde waiting there. He stepped aside to let her in and closed the door behind him.

"What's this about?" Buffy asked bluntly, still annoyed with him for not telling her about his little confrontation with that woman in the park.

"Ford's not who you think he is," he told her, ignoring her attitude. This was more important than whatever she was mad at him for. "Tonight, after you left, I was walking and I ran into him, well, I saw him, but he didn't know I was there. Anyway, he was there with this vamp--" he rambled, sounding so unlike himself.

"You were spying on him?" Buffy asked incredulously. "Look I know you're all-jealous or whatever-but you have no right to follow around my friend! I--" she raged at him, indignant that he had the nerve to accuse her old friend of something, what she wasn't too clear on just yet.

"I wasn't spying on him," Angel interrupted her rant with an annoyed sigh. "Will you just listen to me? I heard fighting, outside the school. I went to help whoever was being attacked but when I got there; Ford was standing over this vampire."

"So, he took out a vamp. What's the big deal?" she barked, arms crossed over her chest. She couldn't believe Angel called her in the middle of the night for this.

"He didn't stake her," he growled. "Your little friend there let her go."

"Why?" Buffy asked softly, growing more and more confused. Why would Ford just let a demon go?

"Information," he replied tightly. "She told him what he wanted to know and he let her live."

"What did he want to know?" the slayer asked, her voice hollow, trying to hide her worry.

"He wanted to know where he could find Spike," he told her soberly. Her eyes widened and then dulled before she limply fell into his nearby chair. Her mind was racing as she struggled to find a reason for Ford's need to see Spike. How did he know who Spike was in the first place?

"You're lying," she whispered, desperate to believe that.

"I wouldn't lie to you," he swore, kneeling in front of her. He was surprised when her eyes locked onto his, a hint of repressed anger in her gaze.

"You already have," she accused, her face hard. He looked puzzled and she barely resisted the urge to smack him upside the head. "Who is she?" she demanded.

"She? Who?" Angel stammered, honestly lost. Weren't they just talking about Ford?

"The woman you were talking to last night, in the park," she continued to glower at him as he began to recall the event she was speaking of. "You know, maybe a little taller than me, brunette, long white dress, awfully pale.who is she?"

"You were spying on me?" he replied lightly, trying to make her smile a little. He failed miserably. "I'm not sure you really want to know," he confided quietly.

"I want to know, I can take the truth," she told him without hesitation.

"Sometimes lies are necessary.sometimes the truth is much worse." Seeing the stubborn set of her jaw he realized there was no way out of it. And truthfully, she had a right to know, about him, about Dru, about his past.

"I did a lot of unconscionable things as a vampire.Drusilla was the worst," he started, his voice soft and shameful. "She was an obsession of mine. She was pure and sweet and chaste." he remembered wistfully. Buffy shifted nervously in her chair at his faraway look.

"And you made her a vampire." she finished numbly.

"First I visited every mental torture I could devise, made her insane, killed everyone she loved," he couldn't bear to look her in the eye, instead staring deeply into the carpet. "She eventually fled to a convent, and on the day she took her holy orders.I-I turned her into a demon."

Silence reigned for minutes after his declaration, neither one knowing what to say. Angel was lost in memories, some so vivid it frightened him. Buffy was trying to deal with the idea of the man she loved doing such horrible things. But he wasn't a man, she had to remind herself, he's a demon.

"I don't know what he wants from you," Angel finally spoke, returning to their discussion on Ford. "But he can't be trusted. Whatever he wants from Spike, it can't be good."

Buffy could only nod and sit back, waiting for the feeling to return to her limbs so she could leave. Well, she had wanted the truth tonight and she got heaping loads of it. Maybe Angel was right, maybe sometimes lies were necessary.

Standing slowly, the blonde moved stiffly to the door, only stopping to look over her shoulder to Angel, who remained kneeling on the floor, unable to look her way. She was tempted to speak, to say something, although what she wasn't sure. But exhaustion and weariness were tugging at her and she just wanted to be home. She had enough revelations for one day, she'd worry about Ford's plan tomorrow, and right now she just needed to rest, hoping that sleep wouldn't evade her.

Angel waited silently when he noticed the sound of her footsteps halting, praying that she would say something, even if it was a simple goodnight. His spirits dropped when he heard her take a deep breath and open the door, leaving quietly, the click of the door her only goodbye.

~~~*~~~

The sun had risen a half hour ago and yet the factory was still filled with noise, talking, growling, the usual. What light there was accentuated grey walls made of concrete and not much else. The meeting hall was empty save one form. Leaning in close to a medium sized birdcage, the woman frowned and pouted, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves.

"You sing the sweetest little song. Won't you sing for me, hmm? Don't you love me anymore?" she whined softly, peering in to stare at the tiny bird lying on the bottom of the cage, unmoving and obviously dead.

Heavy footfalls could be heard behind her but she made no move to see who was approaching, still so focused on her darling little bird.

"Dru, I heard a funny thing just now," called out Spike, striding confidently across the room, his voice boisterous but his eyes concerned. "Lucius tells me you went out on a hunt the other night."

"My tummy was all growly." she told him sweetly, "and you were out." She ignored him once more, frowning slightly. "Come on," she pleaded, whistling softly as if telling the bird that if she could do it, so could he. "I'll pout if you don't sing," she threatened with a whimper.

"You, um, meet anyone?" he prompted gently, a hand on the small of her back as he tried to get her attention. "Anyone interesting? Like Angel?"

"Angel." she sighed with a smile and he grinned when he realized he was getting through to her.

"Yeah, so." he considered, eyes narrowing. "What might you guys have talked about then? Old times? Childhood pranks? It's a little off, you two being so friendly, with him being the enemy and all." He saw her eyes cloud over once more and inwardly groaned in frustration.

"I'll give you a seed if you sing," she offered as her focus drifted to the bird again.

"The bird's dead Dru," Spike said harshly, too annoyed to care about his tone of voice. "You left it in a cage, and you didn't feed it, and now it's all dead, just like the last one!" Only when he saw Dru cower and pull away from him did he realize his mistake.

"Oh, I'm sorry pet. I'm a bad, rude man," he sighed, running a hand over his face. "I just don't like you going out, that's all. You're weak," he tried to reason with her, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Would you like a new bird?" he offered with a small smile when she beamed at him. "One that's not dead?"

He was relieved when she grinned and opened her mouth to speak, shutting it firmly when she was surprisingly interrupted.

"This is so cool," said a new voice, one even Spike couldn't recognize. Blue eyes bled into amber when he saw a young man step out from behind a stack of crates. The newcomer looked around the factory with a look of pure awe and the blonde couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I could totally live here."

"Do I have anyone on watch here?" Spike shouted, disgruntled. "It's called security people! Is everyone asleep?!" He cocked his head to the side, staring at the mortal with a considering glance, a sly smirk creeping over his face. "Or did we finally find a restaurant that delivers?" he drawled as he stepped closer to the boy.

"I know who you are," Ford declared with a determined expression. Spike merely grinned and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know who I am too. So what?" he countered with a glare.

"I came looking for you Spike. You are Spike, right?" he added, a bit unsure, his earlier arrogance faltering a little. "William the bloody?"

"You've got a real death wish," chuckled Spike with a shake of his head. "It's almost interesting." He stopped his appraisal of the boy when the minion he sent out earlier finally appeared at his side, the blonde woman handing him the item he had requested. He grinned widely as he leafed through the old tome, fingering the pages gently. "Oh, this is great. Very useful," he muttered before remembering his guest. "So how did you find me?"

"That's not important," Ford rushed to assure, glancing at the blonde he had almost staked before and looking away quickly. "I've got something to offer you." He waited a beat, a slightly disappointed frown crossing his face when Spike remained silent. "I'm pretty sure this is the part where you take out a watch and tell me I have thirty seconds to convince you not to kill me.it's traditional," he explained with a grin.

"Well," Spike growled as he slammed the book closed and strode quickly to the boy, "I don't go much for tradition," he hissed as he grabbed him by the ear, lifting him up slightly, ignoring the boy's gasp of pain.

"Wait, love," cooed Dru, taking a small step toward the pair, staring into the frightened yet calm eyes of the brunette. Spike, with considerable reluctance, released the brat and pushed him back, waiting for him to speak.

"Well?" Ford prompted with a disappointed frown.

"What?" Spike groaned in annoyance and rolled his eyes, "Oh. You've got thirty seconds to convince me not to kill you," he repeated drolly.

"Yes! See, this is the best!" he crowed excitedly. "I wanna be like you. A vampire." Spike merely looked at him incredulously.

"I've known you for two minutes and I can't stand you. I *really* don't feature you living forever," he grimaced in distaste. He looked over his shoulder and sent Dru a pleading glance. "Can I eat him now?"

She never broke her gaze with the boy, lips curved into a secretive smile as she shook her head.

"Well feature this, I'm offering you a trade," said Ford, glad when Spike turned back toward him, completely interested. "You make me a vampire.and I give you the slayer."

Spike broke out into a maniacal grin, studying the boy with new appreciation. This one was starting to grow on him.

~~~*~~~

Willow and Xander walked slowly down the halls of Sunnydale High, biding their time until the first bell rang and they had to leave for class. Turning a corner, the redhead paused, pulling Xander to a stop as she watched Buffy, looking very tired, speaking with Ford. While he was energetic, practically bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm, she was subdued, her voice monotone, happiness nonexistent. She must know what he was up to. How exactly Willow wasn't sure of, last time it was because she, Xander, and Angel went and found his little underground club, but that definitely didn't happen this time around.

They only caught the tail-end of the conversation the old friends were having, feeling bad for eavesdropping but feeling that it was necessary.

"Do you wanna go out again tonight?" Ford asked the blonde with a charming smile.

"Not busy," she replied noncommittally, a little uncomfortable. Buffy didn't know what to think of him now, what to say to him. If Angel was right, she had no idea what Ford could be up to.

"I sorta had this idea. It's a.it's a secret. I kinda want to surprise you," he continued, hoping she'd agree, she had to agree.

"I like surprises," she shrugged, her voice lacking any emotion.

"Can you meet me here? At nine?" She nodded silently and he beamed. "Okay then, see you tonight," he called out as he began walking away, leaving her standing alone in the hall. Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and frowning when she realized her hands had curled into fists.

The redhead and her brunette companion watched somberly as the slayer opened her eyes, turning her head and catching their gazes. Willow pulled Xander along with her as she approached the slayer.

"Hey," the witch said softly, the blonde only nodded, trying to force a smile on her face. "Do.do you know what he's up to?" she asked hesitantly, not bothering with small talk.

"No," Buffy replied quietly, not even surprised that Willow may know something about this situation with Ford. That was her Will, she knew everything.

"Yeah, well, we should probably talk.somewhere else," the redhead added with a nervous glance at the people around them. Buffy nodded and followed the twosome to the library, a little relieved that Giles, for once, was not in.

"Okay," started Willow once they all sat, "It all has to do with this place called the Sunset Club."

~~~*~~~

His footsteps sounded with a clang as he walked down the metal stairs of the hollowed out bomb shelter that he had now converted into a club.

"Everything ready?" Ford questioned, looking to Chantrelle in askance.

"Of course it's ready," said Diego, stepping in front of the brunette with a glare. "Hi, I took care of it. I always take care of it," he reminded him.

"Is it time? Tonight?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

"You nervous?" Ford asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Yes," she admitted before shaking her head and smiling sheepishly. "No, I'm ready for the change," she assured him. "Do you really think they'll bless us?"

Ford glanced at his watch, smiling as he saw it was only ten minutes till sundown. "I know they will."

"They're not gonna let us down?" she wondered as his hands came up to massage his now aching temples, her constant questioning giving him a headache.

"It's gonna be fine," he insisted brusquely, ignoring her whimper.

"No," interrupted a low voice from the top of the stairs, "it's really not." Ford watched curiously as Buffy, her face taut with anger and a touch of sadness, descended the staircase.

"It's kinda drafty in here," Ford turned to Diego, his tone casual. The other boy took the hint and headed for the entrance, past the slayer.

"I'm sorry Ford, I just couldn't wait till tonight. What can I say? I'm rash and impulsive, it's a flaw," she shrugged.

"We all have flaws," he replied calmly.

"I'm still a little fuzzy on what yours is. I think it has to do with you being a lying scumbag," she sneered as she reached him.

"Everybody lies," he commented conversationally, not at all intimidated.

"You had to know I'd figure it out," she said as she stared at him. "That I'd find out what you were up to."

"Actually," he grinned, "I was counting on it," he told her as the door to the club slammed shut behind them. Buffy jumped at the noise and ran hurriedly up the stairs, hitting it with her body and looking dismayed when it didn't budge.

"Rigged up special," Ford said proudly as she glared at him through eyes slit with betrayal. "Once it's closed, it can only be opened from the outside. As soon as the sun sets, they'll be coming."

"Ford, if these people are still here when they get here--" she tried to reason with him, her body filled with fear at the idea of being cornered in here as Spike and his minions flooded the small space. There was no way she could save them all, she wasn't even sure if she could save herself.

"This is the end, Buffy," he told her solemnly, "No one gets out of here alive."

She looked at him desperately and ran back down the stairs. "There has to be another way out of here!" she said, more to herself than anyone else.

"This is a bomb shelter, Buffy," he added, a tinge of annoyance lacing his voice as he slowly followed her. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to overpower you. But this is three feet of solid concrete. Trust me when I say we're in this for the long haul."

"At least let the other people go," she pleaded of him.

"Why are you fighting this?" asked Chantrelle curiously, "This is what we want. Can't you see that?"

"What I see is that right after sundown, Spike and all his friends are going to be pigging out at the all-you-can-eat moron bar!" she shouted furiously. Buffy couldn't believe these people were so stupid, so naïve, willingly walking to their deaths. "I'm trying to save you. You're playing in some serious traffic here! Don't you understand that? You're going to die and the only chance you have is to get out of this pit right now and, my god, could you have a dorkier outfit?!" she scoffed as her gaze fell upon Diego, still dressed in that shiny blue cape.

"Gotta agree with her, D," Ford added soberly, "You look like a big ninny." They all heard a high-pitched beeping and Ford looked to his watch with a grin. "6:27.sunset," he informed them all. Buffy watched in shock as they all smiled in excitement and collectively turned to face the door.

She ran up the stairs, pounding on the heavy door that trapped them all inside, ignoring Ford's slightly admirable laughter. Finally, she stopped trying and walked to the left side of the upper level, body drenched in the shadows as she looked down at all the eager faces sadly.

"They're not gonna get changed, are they? The rest of them, they're just fodder," she said quietly as Ford approached her.

"Technically, yes," he admitted with a shrug. "But I'm in, I will become immortal."

"Well, I've got a newsflash for you, brain trust. It doesn't work like that," she told him snidely. "You die, and a demon sets up shop in your old house. It walks, it talks, and it remembers your life, but it's not you."

"It's better than nothing," he replied softly, eyes falling to the floor, his confident demeanor wavering.

"And your life is nothing?" she asked in amazement. "Ford, these people don't deserve to die."

"And I do?!" he countered sharply. "I look good, don't I? Well, let me tell you something," he sneered, anger filling him. "I've got maybe six months left, and by then what they bury won't even look like me. It'll be bald, and shriveled, and it'll smell bad. No, I'm not going out that way," he declared with determination. "These people are sheep," he said, pointing down to the crowd milling about. "They wanna be vampires because they're lonely, miserable, or bored. I don't have a choice."

"You have a choice," she replied somberly. "It's not a good choice, but you have a choice. You're opting for mass murder here and nothing you say is gonna change that!" The blonde looked up sharply when she heard the screech of tires and the slamming of cars doors in the distance. "Help me stop this Ford," she begged. Letting out a frustrated grunt when he simply stood there.

Pushing him out of the way, she ran toward the stairs. "People listen to me! This is not the mother-ship, people!" she screeched as Ford hurried to follow her. "This is ugly death come to play!" She didn't have time to argue with the crowd any longer as she felt a heavy blow of a lead pipe hit her in the head. Ford watched as she tumbled down the rest of the stairs, coming to rest on the cool floor. He moved over her, watching for any sign of movement. There was none.

~~~*~~~

"Everybody spread out," ordered Spike as they neared the club, game face present as he led the march. Drusilla was only a step behind him, the rest of his minion close. "Two men on the door, the first priority is the slayer, everything else is fair game. And let's remember to share, people," he reminded them with a mocking grin.

Drusilla smiled and let her human façade slip away as they reached the door.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Spike whispered in her ear before Lucius was to open the door.

"I want a treat," she purred, eyes flaring, "I need a treat." He grinned broadly at her enthusiasm.

"And a special one you'll have."

~~~*~~~

Buffy shook her head groggily as she heard the scraping of the heavy metal door. There were a lot of footsteps, the thudding adding to her massive headache. Her vision was blurry as she tried to slowly sit up. No one bothered to check on her, all eyes turned to the demon at the top of the steps, a group of men and women, faces distorted, standing behind him.

Chantrelle was near the middle of the staircase, looking up at Spike with terrified eyes. She had never seen a real vampire, only seen them in movies. She never remembered seeing the ridges that deformed his face, nor the yellow of his eyes, making him look more like an animal than a man.

Spike grinned when he smelled her fear, taking a step toward her and lunging a bit, growling, making her jump. Surprisingly, she remained rooted to her spot. He could only look down at her in disdain and reach for her neck. In a lightening quick move he ripped off the choker she wore and gripped her hair, pulling her up to him, delighting in her gasp.

"Take them all, save the slayer for me," he growled his orders, satisfied that they heard them when they vaulted over the rails of the stairs. Tugging sharply on the blonde's hair, he wasted no more time as he lunged for her neck, biting deeply as she yelped in pain.

Buffy pulled herself up and barely dodged Ford as he attempted to hit her once more. She knocked him down and looked around anxiously. There were vampires everywhere, feeding feverishly, and she wasn't sure how she could stop it. Her eyes darted around the club, freezing when she spotted that woman from the park, Drusilla, standing alone off to the side. Running at full speed she jumped up anything she could, speakers, boxes, and hopped over the rail of the second floor.

She rushed the brunette, spinning her around so that she had Drusilla's back against her chest, a stake poised precariously over her heart. Leading the brunette to the top of the stairs, she took a deep breath and shouted, "Spike!"

The bleached blonde's head shot up, eyes widening at the sight of Dru with the slayer. Shoving the blonde away from him, he straightened. "Everybody stop!"

The feeding and the growling stopped immediately at the sound of their master's voice.

"Good idea," Buffy breathed, scooting them closer to the door. "Now you let everyone out or she fits in an ash tray," she demanded. Spike glared at her and glanced at a shaking Dru.

"Spike?" she whimpered as Buffy tightened her hold on her. Reluctantly Spike nodded his head. The rest of the vampires let the people go, allowing them to rush up the stairs and out the door that Spike and his boys had left open.

"It'll be okay, pet," Spike assured her softly, never breaking his angry stare with Buffy.

"Down the stairs," the slayer ordered and Spike made a show of moving down them slowly. Buffy led Dru to the edge of the stairs, looking from her to Spike and back. This was the same woman she had seen with Angel, the same one Angelus had been so obsessed with. She could take this chance to do something she had seriously considered, stake her. She was a vampire after all, it was her duty. But Buffy reluctantly decided she couldn't do it. She couldn't kill her, demon or not, out of sheer jealously or possessiveness. But if she ever saw Dru do anything objectionable, her dust would be blowing in the wind. Making her decision, she shoved Drusilla ahead of her abruptly, knowing Spike would be kept busy catching her. The blonde turned on her heel and ran out the door, slamming it shut just before Spike reached her, his body hitting the metal harshly as she shut it.

Spike growled and hit the door with his fist before reaching for the."Uh, where's the doorknob?"

~~~*~~~

Buffy stumbled out of the Sunset club, seeing everyone lingering about, tending to their injuries. A tall form made its way out of the crowd and Buffy let out a tentative smile as she saw him. "You're just in time," she smirked tiredly.

"Are there vampires in there?" he asked softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"They're contained," she said, resting her head on Angel's shoulder. "They'll get out eventually though. We should probably go, we can come back when they're gone."

"Come back for what?" he asked curiously as he slowly pulled her away from the building.

"The body," she whispered, thinking about the Ford she used to know and the one that had showed up in Sunnydale. Angel nodded sympathetically. "How did you know I was here?" she wondered as they faded into the night.

"Willow told me," he replied before they fell into a comfortable silence.

~~~*~~~

Xander watched the couple walk away as Willow began ushering people away from the club. They had waited in the shadows until Buffy had disappeared, just wanting to make sure she was alright. They had tried to come with her earlier, but she had insisted that she needed to do this alone.

"They all gone?" he asked as Willow met up with him ten minutes later. She joined him once more at the mouth of the alley.

"Yeah," she took one last look around and turned to him. Xander became worried when he saw the look on her face. A mixture of resolve, fierce determination, and a hint of fear. "You might want to get going too."

"What? Why, Wills?" he asked, totally confused. He saw her expression harden as she looked to the door to the Sunset club, they could still hear the pounding on the other side. He swallowed nervously and finally brought himself to ask, "What are you going to do?"

The redhead took a deep breath and gazed at him, her eyes serious. "I'm going to let them out."

~Part: 22~

"Tell me you're joking," Xander demanded, looking at Willow like she had grown a second head. The redhead merely met his incredulous stare without flinching. "Oh, you really aren't joking. Come on, Will. This is just stupid. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No," she replied calmly, frowning at the glare he sent her way. "I know how to take care of myself, Xander. You have to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"You're about to release a group of bloodthirsty vampires while you, what, stand around and wait? They'll kill you before you can blink," he reminded her sharply.

She gazed into his pleading dark eyes, a look full of understanding and love at his obvious worry and fear. Ruffling his short brown hair and smiling up at him, Willow searched for the right words.

"I want you to do me a favor, okay?" she asked softly. At his tentative nod she continued. "I need you to go home, maybe get some sleep, and not worry about me. I know that doesn't sound possible, you were the only one who always worried about me, but I'm asking you to trust me. Trust that I know what I'm doing." Her green eyes fell to the gravel beneath them, exhaling shakily.

"He.he needs to know, Xan," she said in only a whisper. "He has a right to know. I've put this off long enough," she sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"You," he finally replied after a long minute of silence. "You better not get yourself hurt tonight, Wills. I mean it," he took her hand in his own, squeezing gently. "I need you."

"Just as much as I need you, Xan," she assured him with a sweet smile. "Now go. I.I might be gone for awhile, but I'll be home as soon as I can."

The brunette took one last, lingering look before releasing her hand from his tight grip and taking a step back. She better know what she was doing, he kept saying to himself. Forcing himself to move away, he turned his back to the girl, his steps soft and slow as he faded into the distance.

~~~*~~~

Spike watched as his boys practically threw themselves at the door, bodies landing with a sickening thud against the metal. After he had calmed Drusilla, he had passed her off to Lucius, who was more than willing to do what his master told him. Dru had finally stopped whimpering, now seemingly content to rest comfortably in the other man's loose embrace for the time being.

He couldn't hold back the slight growl when he heard movement at his feet. Blue eyes glared at the boy struggling to regain consciousness. Ford groaned, his hand going to his head, feeling the lump now forming from his fall. He shook his head, looking up and blinking when he saw Spike towering over him, not looking so happy.

"What happened?" he mumbled in confusion as he tried to stand.

"We're stuck in the basement," Spike replied dryly, no trace of humor on his handsome face.

"Buffy?" he wondered as he gained his bearings.

"She's *not* stuck in the basement," he sneered with narrowed eyes.

"Hey, well, I delivered," Ford declared, his head finally clear. "I handed her to you."

"Yes, I suppose you did," Spike drawled, arms crossed over his chest.

"So? What about my reward?" he demanded arrogantly, looking the vampire in the eye. Spike did his best to keep a straight face. The little prig actually expected him to do him a bloody favor? He could barely restrain the growl that threatened to sound at the mere idea of having this brat around for all eternity.

"You want death, mate?" he countered coolly as his hands left their place across his chest, reaching out, one curling in his short hair, the other gripping his chin tightly. Spike reveled in the look of shock that crossed the boy's face right before he twisted sharply, breaking his neck violently. He let the body fall with a thud, a satisfied grin crossing his face. "You got it."

He looked up to see all his men watching him intently and he snarled in warning. "Get back to work, you gits."

~~~*~~~

Willow faced the mouth of the alley, waiting until she couldn't distinguish Xander's form or hear his footsteps any longer before turning on her heel to face the door. She studied it, trying to determine how heavy it really was. She could hear the pounding of fists on the other side as Spike's minions tried their best to somehow pry it open.

The easiest option would be to simply open the door by the latch, but that would leave her standing right by the exit and there were too many hungry vamps inside for comfort. She felt too vulnerable, out in the open like that. So that plan was out. She decided then to go the next easiest route, magicking open the door. Levitation and telekinesis were the first things she had learned when she began practicing Wicca, by now she was well versed in the subject. She sure as hell could float more than a pencil by now, and manipulating objects like, let's say, a door handle, shouldn't prove very difficult.

Finding a dark corner along the wall of the club, she hid herself as best she could. Vampires had keen eyesight and slinking into the shadows wouldn't allow for much cover, but it was the best she could come up with. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself, eyes closed in concentration. Her mind was completely focused on the heavy door handle and she could feel its resistance give way. Her eyes flew open, green dotted with black, as she retained her focus, resisting the urge to whoop in triumph when she saw the handle shake and slowly but surely turn. Almost there.

~~~*~~~

Spike was about halfway up the stairs to join the three fledges at the door when they heard it. It was faint, barely noticeable above the grunting they made as they tried to force the door open. It wasn't a scraping, but a squeaking, like metal on metal. He signaled for his boys to step back as he took a hesitant step forward, up another stair.

The door clicked and slowly swung open, not very much, only an inch or two, but enough. They all stared at the door, tense and muscles taut, waiting for an attack. It never came. Silently, Spike motioned for one of his minions, a massive man still in game face, to open it further. After a second's hesitation he did as told, throwing it open, poised to fight. There was no one there. The door clanged, loud in the silence, as it hit the concrete of the wall.

The trio who were previously attempting to pry open the door stepped out into the deserted alley, listening for any suspicious sounds. This just smacked of a set up, but none could sense the slayer at all. They all slowly made their way out of the club, Drusilla still wrapped around Lucius, Spike the last one out the door.

Willow tried to calm the beating of her heart as maybe twenty vampires flowed out into the alley. Even though she could barely hear it, she knew her breathing must sound harsh to their sensitive ears and she cringed every time eyes swept over in her direction. Spike seemed eager to be rid of the group of minions, obviously annoyed at being bested once more by the slayer.

"Stop mucking about, you nits," he snarled when they all continued to linger about. "If you're hungry, then eat. Drink, shag, whatever, I don't care. Just go." Grumbling a bit, they all went to follow his instructions, Spike moving behind them, still at the back of the alley.

Seeing most of the group disperse, Willow let out a relieved breath, one which she immediately regretted when she saw Spike stop in his tracks. His back was still turned to her, head cocked to the side, waiting, listening. He turned, his profile now visible. She debated whether to step out of her hiding place now that the rest of the vampires were gone, or to wait. Wait for what she wasn't too sure about. But she soon realized it wouldn't be necessary when she saw the wicked grin cross his face.

"Been wonderin' when you'd show that pretty face of yours," he chuckled as he faced her. Even shrouded in total darkness his eyes found hers, holding her in place. "Come on out, pet. You can't hide from me," he informed her with a smug grin. "I know your scent," he informed her, tapping the end of his nose teasingly. "That's one thing you can't hide."

Taking a deep breath, the witch stepped out into the moonlight. A soft breeze filtered through the narrow space between dilapidated buildings. Red hair fluttered around a pale face, green eyes focused on some point on his face, his chin he thought, never at his eyes. She was biting her lip, her hands fidgeting at her side before she gave up and stuffed them in her pockets.

"We-e," she started, stopping when her voice cracked. Clearing her throat and taking a moment to gather some courage, she spoke again. "We, uh, need to talk."

"Feeling chatty, pet?" he drawled, a single eyebrow rose in suspicion.

"You want answers," she shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I've got them." He stood there, just staring at her for what felt like hours. In reality it was only about thirty seconds. In a nervous gesture of his own, Spike began patting down the pockets of his duster, searching for his cigarettes. Lighting one swiftly, he returned his piercing gaze to her. While he projected indifference, legs shoulder width apart, cigarette hanging precariously from his lips, eyes lighted in veiled curiosity, she knew he was anything but indifferent.

"Well, start talking," he demanded brusquely, head tilted to the right ever so slightly.

"Can we.can we walk?" she asked tentatively. At his hesitant look, she tried to explain. "I just.don't want to do this here, okay? Having this conversation is bad enough; let's not add to the creepy factor by having our little talk in a dark alley."

"You are a strange bird," he muttered before sweeping an arm out to the side in a silent signal for her to get moving.

~~~*~~~

Buffy left Angel at his apartment, surprisingly she was in no mood for friendly chat. Today had just been miserable and there wasn't a thing Angel would be able to tell her that would make her feel better, despite his best attempts.

So she found herself wandering, unsure of her destination. She felt like her world had been turned on its head. Ford, who she had known for years, a boy she thought she could trust with her life, betrayed her. Not that betrayal and devious plans were new to her, but it hit home when the enemy was once called friend.

But his motivations were the cause of her restless meanderings. He didn't do it because he hated her, not because he wanted power, he was scared; scared of the pain of dying, of the uncertainty that comes with the knowledge that your time on this earth is suddenly limited. Was there an afterlife, free of pain and disease? Or was all that awaited us a void, nothingness? And if when you died there was nothing, would you even technically exist anymore?

Questions swirled in her mind, and yet no answers came to her. She didn't want to feel bad for him. She didn't want those pangs of sympathy, and pity, to flood her. But they did. All she wanted were answers, she wanted reasons, logic. And sadly logic was something she was never good at.

Glancing up she was mildly surprised to find that she was standing outside Sunnydale High. Shaking her head with a tiny smile, she took small, exhausted steps toward the building with one place in mind, the library. She wanted answers, reason, and there was one person in her life that she knew could provide them. She just hoped Giles was still in his office.

~~~*~~~

They strolled down the unexpectedly deserted streets in silence for a couple minutes, Willow too caught up in her thoughts. The redhead chanced a glance at Spike, nearly cringing at the expression on his face. He was quickly losing the rather small amount of patience he had forced on himself and if she didn't speak soon she feared his retaliation.

"I did a spell," she said softly, eyes on the pavement as he listened intently. "About five years from now, or is it six?" she considered with a small frown. "I'm from the future," she added with a humorless laugh.

Willow didn't even need to look at him to know he didn't believe her, or at least he was very wary of her story. Even vampires are a bit skeptical it seems. She could understand though. Smoke curled around them both as he forced his lungs to exhale and she stifled a cough before trying to speak again.

"The world was different, a sad, depressing place. We had lost so much, so many loved ones gone, not even dust." she sighed with a shake of her head. "He was desperate, Xander was. You know him, right?" she asked with a sideways glance. Upon his short, affirmative nod, she continued. "He was so tired, of the fighting, the death, he wanted to be done with it. So he thought, hey, why don't we just go back, back in time, before we met the slayer, before everything started to go to hell."

"I shouldn't have done it," the witch grumbled. "I've had enough experience with magic that I know it's dangerous. There's always a catch, you see? Nothing's ever simple. I pulled it off, took us both back, and we managed to fall back into the same damn routine we were going to try to avoid. Fate is a nasty one, she is. We tried; we really did, to ignore Buffy, to pretend we didn't know what goes bump in the night. But it can't be done."

"Then I ran into you," she told him, glancing up at his face which was deliberately blank. "That hadn't happened before. I mean, we knew each other, in the 'I want to kill you horribly' sense, but we had never really talked, especially when you first showed up in Sunnydale. After that, after you talked about your.past, I realized something went wrong. Really, really wrong."

"Before, in my time, Drusilla was your sire," she admitted, wrapping her arms around her middle to keep herself warm. "She was your everything, actually. She was your moon and stars, your reason for 'unliving' as you called it, your princess. I-I.I don't know what happened, how it changed, but when you told me that Angel was your sire, my heart nearly stopped." Willow was watching his face for any sign of emotion, but he was so closed off she couldn't tell what he was thinking. So she plowed on.

"That wasn't supposed to happen. The spell, it wasn't supposed to change anything, just bring us back here," she hurried to explain. "Something else is at work here, I know it. Trouble is I don't know what or who it is. Something powerful screwed up your past, and I'd be willing to bet my life on it that they are behind these.visions.you've been having. You know? Those bouts of déjà vu?"

The redhead waited until he finally looked her way, his blue eyes cold and hard and she got the chilling sensation that he was staring right through her. Their footsteps never once faltered or slowed as they continued on, the girl growing more and more unnerved by his stoic silence.

"They're memories," she said, brow furrowed. "What you've been seeing.feeling. They are memories from before. Us in the factory? That was from my senior year of high school. Drusilla had left you and you wanted me to do a-a love spell for you," she remembered softly.

"I don't have many answers, I realize that now," she sighed sadly. "Actually, you probably have even more questions now, but that's what I know. Or the basics at least. If it seems like nothing makes sense to you, you're not alone. This makes no sense to me either. But you have to know, Spike, I had no intention to play with your life like this. You and I, we were never close before. There is so much, about before, that I wish I could tell you, but I'm not sure it would be best. Things are confusing enough as it is. But.I respected you; I wouldn't do something to purposely hurt you."

Biting her lip again out of habit, Willow fell silent. She didn't know what to say. This hadn't been the most revealing of conversations, but she wasn't about to tell him everything. Some things were best kept quiet. But still, she expected some sort of reaction out of him while she spoke. She looked for a flash of anger, a tinge of fury or frustration, but none of that had appeared. They walked side by side, each looking straight ahead, not saying a word.

For Spike, his sudden bout of quietness was brought on as he tried to take in everything the little girl had told him. He was a tiny bit relieved to see he wasn't going crazy, that something really was going on. But mostly he was angry. Furious to be exact. Whether she meant to or not, the stupid, selfish chit had taken his life in her hands and twisted it until all that was left were skewed remains. She was responsible for it all, the confusion, the sickening worry he had been feeling.

Willow glanced at Spike when she heard him draw a deep breath, her expression concerned. Spike and breathing was a bad thing. Spike didn't have to breathe and he only did it when he had to really calm himself, when he was truly angry. She flinched when she saw his face. The traces of fury she had been searching for earlier were clearly present on his handsome face now and it made her want to run as far away from him as she could.

"Undo it," he growled, his voice so low that she barely heard it. "The bloody spell, witch. Undo it," he demanded at her confused look. She opened her mouth, to deny him, but found the words trapped in her throat, instead only shaking her head 'no'. She never even saw him move, but before she knew it he had her body pressed up harshly against a tree, a strong hand around her delicate neck.

He didn't bother with his human façade any longer, glaring at her with menacing amber eyes. "You will undo it!" he hissed. "Fix it! It had to be better than this! Knowing I'm some sodding pawn in some big bad's scheme to.to send this whole bloody world to hell?! You fucked with my life, now fix it!"

"It can't be undone." she managed to choke out despite his tight grip on her throat, eyes wide with fright. Suddenly his hand was gone and she couldn't do anything but collapse against the trunk of the tree behind, gasping for air. "It wasn't better," she said, her voice raspy as her hand went to her bruised neck. "Besides, even if I were able to bring us back to our time, you wouldn't have anything to go back to. Damn it Spike, that life you want back so bad? It's gone! In *my* time, you're dead, dust, nothing!"

The blonde stilled unnaturally at that revelation. Dust.he was dust. In all his years as a vampire, his own death never entered his mind. Even when he fought his two slayers, knowing he was going up against the best of the best, fear never made an appearance. But now, or a few years from now, he was nothing more than ash, a memory blowing in the wind.

"Funny, love. It sounds like you actually gave a damn that I died," he snorted with a derisive chuckle, the laughter hollow and forced.

"We may not have been friends, Spike. But by then we weren't enemies either," she admitted gently as she pulled herself off the ground, dusting off her dirty jeans. His eyes narrowed at her statement, unsure what to make of it. He didn't play nice with humans, at least he never had before he met her. She seemed to be the exception to every rule he had.

He was still pissed, seething actually. He hated the idea of someone, some non-corporeal thing disrupting his life, for its own amusement most likely. Control was something he longed for, that he never lost, but ever since he stepped foot in this town he felt his control slipping. And he didn't like it. His focus returned to the small redhead beside him as she pulled herself up to her full height. She looked skittish, jumpy, but she had a backbone to her, he'd give her that. And she looked genuinely sorry too, her ever expressive green eyes apologetic and pleading. Pleading for what he wasn't sure, forgiveness, her life? He wasn't sure and he doubted she knew either.

"So." Willow said softly, breaking the tedious quiet. She dared to look him in the eye, standing her ground as she watched his ridges slip away and his face return to that deceptively boyish face. "What happens now?"

~~~*~~~

Buffy was sitting in Giles' office in the library, feet tucked under her as she stared down at her hands. She was exhausted and knew she probably should go home, try and get some sleep, but she was restless. And more than anything she was depressed. She had just finished telling her watcher what had happened with Ford, his betrayal, his sickness, and then she just seemed to run out of words. She felt drained and sad and so lost. Giles could only look on in sympathy as she dredged through the inner pain that threatened to drown her.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," the slayer whispered, resting her head in her hands.

"You needn't say anything," he told her wisely.

"It'd be simpler if I could just hate him," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I think he wanted me to. I think it made it easier for him to be the villain of the piece. Really he was just scared."

"Yes," he mused with a sad smile. "I suppose he was."

"Nothing's ever simple anymore," she groaned in frustration. "I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just like, the more I know, the more confused I get."

"I believe that's called growing up," the librarian chuckled softly.

"I'd like to stop then, okay?" she begged, her voice tiny like a child's. It tugged at his heart.

"I know the feeling," he commiserated with a nod.

"Does it ever get easy?" she wondered, peering up at the older gentleman in questioning.

"You mean life?" he clarified.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Does it get easy?"

He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What do you want me to say?" he sighed.

"Lie to me," she decided in a gentle voice. He grinned softly and polished his glasses, unable to look her in the eye when he replied.

"Yes, it's terribly simple," he considered for a moment. He slipped his glasses back on and looked at her curled up form, watching him intently. "The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and uh, we live happily ever after."

His speech brought a reluctant grin to the blonde's drawn face and she giggled. "Liar."

~~~*~~~

"What happens now?" the question reverberated through Spike's head. Such a loaded question, that one. He could act like the vampire he was and simply drain her. But something about that just rubbed him the wrong way. He could demand more information from her, she knew a lot more than she was sharing, he knew. But he could see the stress and strain in her posture and he felt the unfamiliar desire to leave her be.

"Dunno," he shrugged, the leather of his duster creaking from the movement. "You just dropped a bomb on me, pet. I don't really know what to say."

Willow was surprised at the gentle tone the vampire used with her. "You don't have to say anything, I guess."

"I'm a bit confused, Red," he grumbled, running an annoyed hand through his bleached blonde locks. "You've just told me my life has been changed, toyed with like it was nothing. Right now I'm a right bit pissed. I haven't taken the time to think about what happens now," his voice had taken on a hysterical pitch. He started pacing by now and she followed his movements with wary green eyes.

"What the hell do you want me to say?" he hissed. "Do you really want to know where we go from here? You want the bloody truth?!" He wanted to tear her apart, punish her for messing with things she couldn't comprehend. The only thing that stayed him was the fact that she still knew a hell of a lot more than she was saying. He stopped in his tracks, pinning her with his intense gaze and she took an involuntary step back, abruptly looking down. "Do you *really* want to hear what I have to say?" he growled, jaw clenched.

"N-no." she stammered, taken aback by his withering glare. "Lie to me." she whispered, knowing she really didn't want to hear the thoughts that were running through his head right now. Most of them probably involved her untimely death.

He cocked his head to the side as he looked at her, surprised and at a loss for words. Considering, taking his time before answering, Spike reigned in his anger, his voice monotone.

"What happens now." he murmured, "we leave here tonight, and never see each other again. You never think of what you've done, the damage you may have caused. I never think of the way my life has been violated. I won't spend hours out of the day thinking about you, or the memories I've been stripped of. We live happily ever after, far away from one another. And this whole mess is.forgotten."

Spike held her gaze for one long, agonizing minute before slowly spinning on his heel and stalking off into the night. He needed to clear his head, do some serious thinking. He'd be back for more answers in time, back to talk to the witch who had haunted him since he rode into this bloody town. But that night wasn't tonight.

Willow watched him leave, feeling a small sense of relief that they hadn't come to blows, not that she could have bested him in a fight anyway. But she knew she hadn't seen the last of him. This was Spike, after all. He was never really gone, he just kept coming back. Thinking over his final comments, she found herself shaking her head, a despondent frown on her face, as she stepped off in the opposite direction.

"Liar."

~Part: 23~

The witch wasn't too surprised to see that the light to her living room was still on, shining like a beacon on the dark street. It was only around nine o'clock that night, but the dwellers of her small suburb, at least those smart enough to know what goes bump in the night, were safely locked in their houses. Even if it wasn't so early in the evening, at least by her standards, she knew Xander wouldn't take her advice and go to bed. No, her Xander would sit and wait until she returned home and he knew she was safe. He was so predictable some times, but she found it endearing. She only hoped he wasn't in the mood to talk. She had no desire to rehash everything that happened that night with Spike.

Her keys jingled noisily in the silence as she removed them from her right pants pocket, searching through the multitude of keys on the chain for the right one. Her search proved useless when she heard the lock slide out of place and the doorknob turn. The door swung open and Xander stood before her, a relieved expression across his tight face.

"You're alive," he said tonelessly, eyes pinning her in place. He tried to look calm and relaxed, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. He was worried for her, that much was obvious.

"Of course, what did you expect?" she answered, cocking her head to the side and looking up at him blankly. She took a step forward, out of the shadows and into the area illuminated by the porch light. She had to tilt her head back slightly to look him in the eye and it was that move that caught Xander's eyes. His well-rehearsed façade of nonchalance disappeared in an instant as his hand shot out, gripping her gently by the elbow and pulling her further into the light, staring intently at something.

"You're hurt," he whispered, his free hand coming up to graze her bare throat. His thumb brushed the side of her neck where dark bruises were quickly forming. He tilted her head to the side, examining them further. The marks were finger-shaped. The discoloration was even more noticeable where fingernails had dug into her throat tightly.

"It's nothing," Willow assured him with a terse smile. She pushed him aside gently and crossed the threshold. Too tired to do anything else, she slipped off her coat and tossed it onto the armchair before falling onto the sofa.

Xander hesitated at the doorway a moment before shutting the door softly and turning on his heel to face his best friend. He watched her, studied her. Other than the bruising on her neck she seemed okay; exhausted, yes, but otherwise hurt, no. He let out a heavy sigh and took a seat next to her.

Her head fell onto his shoulder as she shifted on the couch, her red hair spilling across his chest. Her eyes closed and he slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. He propped his chin on top of her head and took a deep breath, inhaling the reassuring scent of her.

"How did he take it?" Xander murmured softly. Her jaw clenched almost imperceptibly and he frowned.

"Not tonight Xan," she pleaded, burying her face in his neck, hiding from his prying eyes. "Later, I promise. But just not tonight."

"Okay," he agreed, none too happy. He wanted to know what happened, needed to know what happened. What had her so depressed? What had provoked Spike into wrapping a hand around her neck? But she had every right to ask him to wait, so wait he would; but only for a short while.

"I'm going to take a long bath," she groaned as she stood, leaving him alone on the couch. "Then I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning." He nodded and watched her climb the stairs before letting his head fall back, a hand running down his face. Maybe Willow had the right idea; bed sounded really good right about now.

~~~*~~~

The school day passed uneventfully. While the trio of friends met in the library as usual for lunch, the conversation remained on neutral, bordering on mundane topics. Willow was too shaken to even bother with her usual perkiness, Xander was too worried about Willow to crack a joke, and Buffy was too devastated by Ford's betrayal and Angel's confessions to notice. Giles didn't question them about their sullen behavior, he was understandably sympathetic.

Buffy was the only one he was really worried about. He didn't hate Xander or Willow; they had etched out a shaky alliance after the events with the Master. But that didn't mean he always trusted them. More than that, he found himself a tinge resentful. He was a watcher, had lived decades longer than the children he was surrounded by. He lived through so much, had spent so much time educating himself and training to become a watcher. And now this little girl showed up and knew more about the demons they faced than even he did. He loathed having to turn to a teenager for advice.

She wasn't a bad kid. He really had no reason to feel this way, but he couldn't seem to help it. He couldn't bring himself to trust her, or the boy for that matter. They knew too much. That much knowledge of the darkness comes with a heavy price, one he was sure they paid. They had secrets, were too jaded for their age, and he could only guess what their secrets were. Until they were completely honest with him, he was determined to keep them at arms length. It wasn't just for his own peace of mind; he did it to protect his charge. They had only helped Buffy so far, but in the end, he couldn't be sure whose side those two were really on. Until he could be sure, he had to do what was needed to protect his slayer. Even if that meant being cold and aloof to children that had done him no wrong. It was his job to be suspicious.

They had left for class when the bell rang, only returning to the library shortly before sunset. Buffy had joined Giles in the deserted gym after school got out to train and run a couple laps before the rest of the gang arrived. Willow and Xander had stopped by her house just to finish their homework quickly and drop off their backpacks before heading for the library.

By the time they arrived, Buffy, who was sweating slightly from her workout, was perched on the counter, absently rifling through her history book. She smiled as Willow and Xander pushed open the doors and ambled inside. Giles looked up from his spot behind the counter at their arrival, nodding hello to them stiffly.

"Any research for us to do Giles?" asked Willow politely as she took a seat at the table. There were a few books of demonic lore scattered on the table and she looked over them, picking out Grenfell's Compendium and opening it in front of her.

"No," the watcher replied without looking up from his work, "Nothing noteworthy to speak of." The redhead frowned but nodded and went back to her reading. Xander sat back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight, and started tapping his foot. It was something he did when he was restless.

Before the room had completely settled into silence the double doors were pushed open and Angel strode inside. Giles didn't even bother with greeting the vampire. Buffy barely looked up, watching her boyfriend through lowered lashes as he looked to Willow. The dark haired vampire exchanged a meaningful glance with the redhead, a silent thank you for letting him know where Buffy went the night before. He hadn't arrived at the Sunset Club in time to help her but at least he was assured that she was okay and Ford was no longer an issue.

Unfortunately Ford wasn't he and Buffy's only problem. Her initial jealousy of Drusilla had been replaced by wariness and insecurity after hearing all he had done. Never mind that it had happened over a century ago, his treatment of the human Drusilla was hard for him to even forget. He could only imagine how abhorrent the slayer found it. And by her subdued welcome when he walked into the library, she wasn't taking things well. Even after last night, after she entertained his feeble attempts to make her feel better after what happened with Ford, she was still nervous around him. He found her avoidance of him both understandable and heartbreaking.

"Um," he stammered awkwardly. His choked voice caused Buffy to look up from her homework and he cleared his throat, all too aware of his current audience. "Can we talk, Buffy?"

She opened her mouth and then closed it suddenly before fixing him with a nervous and sad stare. Expelling a deep breath, she nodded and hopped off the counter. The blonde followed Angel as he led them out of the library and into the darkened hallway. Once the double doors settled closed, he looked back to the fidgeting girl.

"How are you?" he asked, deciding to start with the most general question he could think of.

"Confused," she admitted with a shrug. "These past few days have been kind of crazy. As if my life wasn't hard enough with Spike trying to kill me, my friend betrays me and I find out the details of my honey's not so stellar past. It's hard to take it all in, to make sense of everything. I'm dealing as best I can."

Angel shuffled his feet nervously and his gaze fell to the floor. "So.are we still.together?"

"I.I just don't know," Buffy admitted, unable to look him in his eyes any longer. Her gaze fell to her shoes as she wrung her hands.

"You don't trust me," he murmured sorrowfully. She could feel his eyes on her and she forced herself to look him in the eye. The least he deserved during this little chat was eye contact.

"I'm trying," she swore fervently. "I just.its hard thinking anyone could do the things you did. And you enjoyed it, and there's some part of you."

"That still enjoys it," he finished, his head bowed.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I need time, okay? Time to take everything in and think; can you do that?"

"Yes, I can do that," he said, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn't place. He nearly jumped in surprise when she placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"We're still us," she assured him with a trembling smile. "We're just taking a break." He nodded, unable to form words, too concerned with the growing ache in his heart. Nodding was the best he could do at the moment. Thankfully she understood that.

"I'm going to patrol," Buffy decided. "Spike's bound to be pissed that I kicked his scrawny ass again last night. He'll probably try to take it out on the local population, oblivious as they are. I'm just.going to get my stuff," she added as she slipped into the library once more. She was most likely saying goodbye to everyone inside and grabbing her usual arsenal, a couple stakes and some holy water.

Angel still hadn't moved when she returned, the sound of her heels the only thing alerting him to her presence in his current state. Buffy looked up at him sadly, wishing she could find it in her heart just to get past his discretions. Hopefully in time she could, but not today. It was too soon.

A warm hand caressed his cool cheek as fathomless brown eyes met blue. The blonde wanted nothing more than to lean forward and brush a kiss across those familiar lips, but she held back. She had told him they needed a break and she meant it, kissing him would just be cruel. Her hand fell from his face and she spared one last look before turning and leaving him alone in the shadowed hallway. Minutes later he still hadn't moved.

~~~*~~~

When it became glaringly obvious that Giles had no work for them to do and that Buffy wasn't coming back from patrol soon, Xander decided they might as well go. Why waste a perfectly good night brooding in the library when he could spend it brooding at Willow's house? The brunette watched as Willow finished gathering her things, glancing furtively to Giles' office, seeing that the door was shut tightly.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened last night?" he prompted as she shouldered her purse and started walking to the doors. Pushing them open and stepping into the hall, she failed to answer him. Xander quickened his pace to catch up with her, tugging on her arm in the middle of the hallway and pulling her to a stop.

"What happened with Spike last night?" he demanded firmly. His eyes involuntarily flew to the bruises that decorated her neck. He needed to know what happened. Neither noticed the form sitting in a darkened corner that stiffened at the mention of the bleached blonde before sinking further into the shadows, listening to their every word.

"I did what I told you I was going to do," Willow replied with a despondent sigh. "I told Spike what we did. Needless to say he wasn't happy about it," she snorted indelicately.

"I can understand that," he acknowledged with a shake of his head. "And how did you end up with his hands wrapped around your neck?"

"He wanted me to undo the spell," she said, her mouth set in a grim line. "I told him it couldn't be undone. He didn't react well."

"That's the understatement of the year, Wills!" he hissed. "I told you going to talk to him alone was dangerous! Hello! This is Spike! Not exactly the poster child for 'Sanity Fair'! How did you think he was going to react?!"

"I'm just cleaning up your mess!" she retorted, feeling immediately remorseful when his face fell. "God Xan, I didn't mean that. We're both responsible for this, but I'm trying to make things right, for all of us."

"Spike included?" he asked incredulously.

"Spike most of all," she declared. "We did this. We knew there would be consequences. He didn't have any choice in the matter. I owed him at least an explanation."

"And now that it's done, that's it right?" Xander argued. "No more seeking out homicidal master vampires for late night chats?"

"I have no plans to seek him out," Willow promised him before biting her lip. "But I have a feeling he's not going to let this go. He will probably try to find us, to get more answers. You can't let your guard down Xan. He's angry and he's confused. That's not a good combination."

"Got it," he said with a mock salute. "No provoking Junior." She glared at him and he put his hands up in defense. "I know the drill Wills, no going out without my trusty stake," he said, patting his jacket pocket, "and no pissing off Blondie. I'll behave, scout's honor."

"I'm serious Xander," she told him, pressing the importance of avoiding Spike at all costs, at least until he cooled off. And considering how volatile he could, they could be waiting for awhile. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah," he nodded and started for the exit down the hall. She moved to join him but stopped short.

"Shoot, I need to grab that book I was reading," she remembered with a roll of her eyes. "Go ahead; I know you wanna go home. I'll catch up."

"You sure?" he checked, unsure if he wanted to leave her alone.

"I'm cool, just watch your back." He nodded one last time and turned away from her.

The redhead slipped back into the library and grabbed the compendium she had been reading from. It held all kinds of information that might be helpful in the future. There were sections devoted to the Judge, Acathla, and even just your standard demons, like vamps and werewolves. That gave her pause. She wondered if Oz had been infected yet or not, maybe she could stop that from happening. Then he'd never hook up with skanky Veruca and they might actually have a chance at working out. But then again, she wasn't sure how to walk up to a guy that didn't really know her now and tell him to avoid his cousin Jordy, just in case the kid was feeling a little bite-happy one day. It wasn't your normal everyday conversation, not even for the hell mouth.

Shaking her head, determined to forget about Oz for the time being, Willow left the library, book clutched in her hand. Walking down the silent hall, she was taken back to the moment before their final battle with the First, when the three of them, Buffy, Xander, and herself, just took a moment to reminisce. They thought over everything they had been through, much of which had taken place within these halls, and made their peace with the past, and reminded themselves why they were still friends after all those years.

Her fond smile faded almost as soon as it appeared. This building was supposed to be demolished; this whole town should only be a sinkhole. But it wasn't. And all those memories, all the adventures they went through, all the trials they had faced together, were nothing but figments of her imagination. She was beginning to understand how Spike felt. Everything was the same, yet everything was so different and she didn't know how to deal. And to think, she only had herself to blame. Shaking her head sorrowfully, the redhead headed for the door, pushing it open with a muffled grunt and stepping out into the cool night air.

Sitting back on his haunches, Angel let out an unnecessary breath, a dark expression on his handsome features. Hidden covertly between three trophy cases that lined the hall of Sunnydale High, having never left after his rather depressing conversation with Buffy, he had been privy to a very private and very suspicious conversation. He always knew Xander and Willow couldn't be trusted. He tried to tell Buffy, but she only scoffed, and Giles wouldn't have listened to him long enough for him to explain, seemed the watcher had an extreme dislike of vampires. But now he had real reasons to be concerned for their safety.

Spike never had chats with the enemy, and being the slayer's friend most definitely made Willow the enemy. The blonde would kill someone like her before even considering having a friendly conversation. But the redhead was not dead, Spike had let her go. That alone was absolutely confounding. He didn't have a clue what Willow and Xander had been discussing, but one thing was certain. Those two were no good, and Angel had every intention of finding out what they were really up to.

~Part: 24~

Xander was surprised when he found himself patrolling alone with Buffy. His day had passed as normally as it usually did, just another boring day of schoolwork he vaguely remembered from years past. He had pushed away any worries that lingered about Willow's confrontation with Spike two nights before. It was over and done with, and nothing could be changed. And even though he knew Willow was right, that Spike was in no way out of their lives, at least he would now be too preoccupied trying to deal with the facts Willow revealed to bother her. It was a temporary reprieve, but a reprieve nonetheless.

So when he and the redhead had arrived back in the library after sunset, he paid no mind to the dark eyes that followed his movements critically, never noticed that those same eyes watched Willow even more closely. He was too determined to pretend that this was just another day to bother. Willow, on the other hand, seemed a bit anxious once they stepped inside the double doors.

The library felt.awkward. That was the best word the redhead could think to describe it. She just shrugged it off, deciding that the feeling had to be attributed to Buffy and Angel; the same Buffy and Angel who were trying desperately not to look one another in the eyes. They were seated on opposite sides of the room, the blonde seated on top of the table in the center of the floor, Angel leaning quietly against the counter. Giles seemed oblivious to the tension coming from the two, he was reading calmly as he ambled out of his office.

Buffy and Willow spoke quietly for a bit, Xander in no mood to join in the girl talk. He was skimming through a comic book he had found a week before under his bed. When Giles noticed that none of them were even pretending to do any real work, the watcher had ordered them with a heavy sigh to go patrol.

It wasn't an unusual occurrence for the four of them to go patrolling. Sometimes they went as a group but more often then not they would split off into twos. Buffy and Angel would take the north-side and he and Willow would take the south. When they met up in the middle, they would call it a night. So when Giles announced it was time to split up, Xander was more than ready to gather his things and join Willow. He would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised when his plans changed.

Angel. The bane of his existence since he first met the laconic vampire; had stepped away from his perch at the counter and announced that he would go with Willow tonight. He murmured something about giving Buffy space, but Xander didn't buy it. Something was up with the Broody One and he wanted to know what it was. Unfortunately tonight wouldn't be the night. No, he hadn't even gotten the chance to object; instead Angel had grabbed Willow's hand and led her out the doors before he could think of the right way to tell him to shove it.

Looking to the slayer in confusion, he only received a halfhearted shrug as an answer before the blonde grabbed her stakes and shuffled to the door, the young brunette trailing after her.

It was two hours into patrol as Xander watched calmly as Buffy staked her fourth vampire of the night. It was kind of slow that night, but neither one noticed, too caught up in their own thoughts. The slayer stumbled a little when the vampire exploded into dust, her weight having rested too much on the fledgling. Seeing her falter, Xander reached out a hand to steady her and she smiled faintly in appreciation.

"Thanks Xand," said Buffy softly, brushing off her clothes and pulling her leather jacket tighter around her middle to stave off the cold.

"No problem," he grinned lightly, taking her by the elbow to steer her toward the exit of the cemetery. "So.Buff." he started, grimacing as he tried to find the exact words to say.

"What?" she asked, peering up at him, questioning.

"So.how come you're not patrolling with Deadboy? Usually the two of you are attached at the.well, I would say the hip but I don't even want to think about the two of you and your pelvic regions," he frowned and she grinned reluctantly.

"Wills didn't tell you?" the blonde wondered, looking away from the boy, her voice timid. When he shook his head no she sighed. "Angel and I are.we're together but not, you know? There are just some things we have to deal with before we see each other again. I guess he just wanted to make things easier on me tonight by asking Will to patrol with him. Give me space and all that."

"Sure," he replied, disbelief obvious in his tone. If Buffy noticed she didn't comment. "Are you okay though? I mean, you and Angel, how are you dealing?" It was hard to play the concerned friend when he was quite happy that she wasn't with Angel right now.

"I'm not, really," she admitted, trudging on through the gated entrance of the cemetery. "I don't know. Part of me knows that this is Angel, he would never hurt me. But there is another part of me that recognizes him as a vampire, as something evil. Must be a slayer thing, no sleeping with the enemy," At Xander's disgruntled look she managed a grin. "Figuratively speaking, Xand. It's just.he's Angel, and I love Angel. But at the same time, he was Angelus, and Angelus was nothing more than a murderer. How do you deal with the fact that your honey was once the most feared vamp in history? I just don't know."

Xander held his tongue, fighting his urge to tell his friend to go with her instincts, remember that Angel, in the end, was still a demon. She was the slayer after all. Slayers are not supposed to date demons. Buffy seemed to be drawn to the creatures they fought. First Angel, then Dracula, and lastly Spike. What was it with her and dead guys anyway. But that wasn't the point. He would freely admit that he had never been Angel's biggest fan, but his relationship with the slayer brought the blonde nothing but pain and heartache. In the end, their love wasn't enough, it never would be. Angel had a mission and Buffy had a destiny and the two didn't mix. But instead of just telling her to dump Angel as fast as she could, he remained silent, like a good friend. Sometimes he hated being the good friend.

Shaking off his own distracting thoughts, he threw a loose arm around Buffy's shoulders, pulling her closer and giving her his trademark goofy grin. "Cheer up, Buff. Now," he said as she looked up at him, "why don't we head on to St. Mark's and you can take out your frustrations on some unsuspecting vamp?"

"Ah, you always know what to say, Xand," she cooed with a tiny giggle before her expression sobered. "Thanks Xander." The sincerity in her voice and the seriousness on her face made him pause. She was thanking him for just listening, for not judging or adding any of the comments that had been poised on his tongue. He smiled tightly.

"Anytime Buff, anytime."

~~~*~~~

Willow squinted as she searched the shadows for any lurking creatures in need of dusting. She was a witch on the prowl, eyes darting about the darkness for any sign of danger. Angel's eyes, on the other hand, were focused solely on the redhead who was about a foot ahead of him. She could feel him staring and tried her best to ignore it. But he had been doing this for a while now, just watching silently. It was beginning to get on her nerves. She didn't know why he was doing it; hell, she didn't even know why he wanted to patrol with her tonight. But it would have been rude to question him on his motivations as soon as they left the high school. If he kept doing that though, she wouldn't be held responsible for her actions.

"What?!" she barked, stopping suddenly in the middle of the unusually quiet graveyard across from St. Joseph's church. Spinning on her heel she fixed an unemotional Angel with a glare. "What is it?! Do I have something on my face? Is my hair sticking up and looking all funky? What?"

Angel didn't reply, just shrugged and for the first time that night, looked away, scanning the area for any undead. He felt a slight pull inside him, something that told him there was someone lurking about. But it wasn't particularly strong and unless the feel became stronger he was prepared to simply ignore it. He had a mission tonight, and it wasn't to hunt for vampires.

"Don't give me that," Willow snapped with a frown. "You've been all glower-y. Oh, and let me tell you, just so you know, staring isn't polite. What's up with you tonight?"

"Nothing is.up with me," he drawled, returning his gaze to her own.

"You are so lying," she declared, crossing her arms over her chest. "First," she began with a pointed stare, "you asked to patrol with me. Scratch that, you demanded I patrol with you. That *never* happens. Second," she continued, cocking her head to the side, "You've decided to become my own personal shadow, which is majorly annoying in case you weren't aware. Thirdly, you've been staring at me all night. You never pay that much attention to me. Usually you don't even realize I'm in the same room as you. And fourthly," she huffed as he looked on blankly. "Well, I don't have a fourth point, but you get the idea. What's your problem tonight?"

"I don't trust you," Angel said, short and to the point, not willing to sugarcoat it for her. She looked at him incredulously. So wrapped up in the fuming redhead before him, Angel unconsciously ignored his body's warning that there was a vampire approaching, and not just some minion, someone with power.

"Excuse me?" breathed Willow, her mouth slightly agape. Her earlier anger had now given way to utter surprise at his declaration. "After.after everything I've done to help. After all I have done for Buffy, you don't trust me?"

"Right," he acknowledged with a stern nod, a tiny smirk on his face.

"Why?" she couldn't help but ask, a feeling of worry settling uncomfortably at the pit of her stomach.

"You know," he sighed, relaxing his stance, "I overheard the most interesting conversation the other day."

"Oh." she prompted him to continue anxiously.

"Yeah, you'll never guess who it was about," Angel added, his artificially relaxed and cheery voice turning hard and cold. "So tell me, Wills, how do you know Spike?"

"We all know Spike," Willow shrugged nonchalantly, trying to remain calm. "He is trying to kill all of us, you know."

"Funny," he growled, displeased. "I'll cut to the chase. You and my errant childe had a chat. And since Spike never has civil conversations with mortals that don't end in bloodshed, and you're standing here in one piece, I want to know what it was you two kids talked about."

"You'd be better off not knowing," she warned him darkly. Giving up on acting coy and innocent, Willow straightened; her body tense.

"Tell. Me." Angel demanded with a barely repressed snarl.

"I am no threat to you, or Buffy for that matter," the witch informed him tersely. "I would have thought you'd have known that by now. But you don't know what you're asking. You will just have to take my word for it. I am not working with Spike. I dare to say he hates me a heck of a lot more right now than he does any of you. But that is all I can tell you. I'm sorry." With that, she turned on her heel and headed for the exit, Angel running to catch up with her.

Easily matching her stride, Angel glared down at her as she walked, the twosome quickly approaching her house. "I don't think so. You can't just brush me off. I know you and Xander are up to something, I knew it from the day I met you. It's only a matter of time until I find out what the hell it is you're hiding!"

"You might be right," she acquiesced. "But that time isn't tonight." He followed as she practically raced down the street and up her front porch, unwilling to end their conversation. He wanted answers, needed answers, and she was damn well going to give him some.

Not bothering with her keys, Willow waved her hand, muttering a quick incantation. She heard the locks of her front door click and she opened her door swiftly, stepping inside her house. Angel, never one to be put off, was right behind her. Right up until he slammed into the invisible barrier, a protection that her house provided. He growled, his face nearly shifting at his utter frustration.

Willow turned slowly, regarding the angry vampire with a cool gaze.

"Let me in," he ordered in a low snarl.

"Hell no," she said frostily. "Goodnight Angel," she offered with a fake smile before unceremoniously slamming the door in his face. She sighed and nearly collapsed against the wood as she closed her eyes in resignation. She couldn't help but jump when Angel gave the door one last angry punch before storming off down the street, furious that she had refused him.

"Nice talking to you too," she muttered with a tired frown as she pushed herself away from the door. Her fingers moved up to rub at her temples, trying to ease the headache she felt coming on. As if things weren't bad enough with Spike, now Angel suspected her of betraying them, and she had no way to explain it that wouldn't create a whole new set of problems. Groaning she trekked up the stairs, sometimes she really hated her life.

~~~*~~~

Spike pondered the house he was standing in front of. It was a modest ranch-style home with a large tree in front, a wooden porch complete with a bench sat, welcoming all those who passed by. It was a typical scene in suburbs across America; Spike had seen it many times before.

His focus shifted from the front porch to the upstairs, where a light had just been turned on. He could barely make out a silhouette moving just behind the curtains. It didn't matter; he already knew who it was.

He had been surprised to stumble on Red and his sire, fighting in the middle of St. Joe's. Staying in the safety of the shadows, he observed them curiously. Seemed the little witch was keeping secrets from her friends as well. He couldn't resist following them, interested to see what Willow would tell Angel. He had never managed to find the girl's home before; it was a nice little place. He held in a chuckle when the chit had the audacity to slam the door in the Poof's face. Only after seeing Angel stalking down the street did he finally step into the light of the streetlamp.

Taking one last look at the house before him, he turned silently and made his way back to factory. He wasn't in the mood for a confrontation with the girl tonight. Soon, but not tonight.

~Part: 25~

She was sitting on her parent's burgundy sofa when Xander shuffled through the front door. He wasn't too surprised to see the redhead still up, it was only a little after midnight by now and they were accustomed to not going to bed until around two or three in the morning, school or not.

"Wills," he acknowledged with a nod of his head, maneuvering his tired frame into the cushioned armchair by the fireplace.

"Xand," she replied in turn, voice unnaturally hard. His expression dissolved into a frown at her tone of voice and he looked up hesitantly at the tense witch.

"What happened with Angel?" he asked immediately, already knowing the vampire was the cause of her worries. If it wasn't Spike, it was Angel. What was it about them and vampires?

Her sharp bark of laughter caught him off guard and she shook her head ruefully. "How did you know he was what was bothering me?"

"He's Angel, he always bothers me. Why shouldn't he bother you?" Xander said teasingly before turning grimly serious. "But I could tell he was up to something tonight. I swear, the way he practically dragged you out of the library, I should have stopped him."

"Knock it off, Xan," Willow sighed with a tight smile. "You didn't do anything wrong. Angel-he knows I spoke with Spike. He knows there is something up with us and he is demanding answers," she revealed solemnly.

"And what did you tell him?" Xander asked coolly, sitting up a little straighter.

"Um, that it was none of his business," she admitted, face a bit red with remembrance. "And then I slammed the door in his face."

"You slammed the door in his face!" he exclaimed, astonished. "That's not fair! I want to slam the door in his face!"

"Way to stay on track, Xander," she giggled with a shake of her head.

"So what do we do about Deadboy?" he asked, forcing himself to be serious once more. "Don't tell me you're going to take the Spike route and spill the beans, because I'm thinking that didn't work out very well the first time."

"We tell him nothing," she swore, resolve face firmly in place. "Angel's nosy, and he's determined to find out what we might be hiding. We have to be careful around him. Watch what you say when there's even the slightest possibility that he's around."

"But what about Buffy and Giles?" he asked anxiously. "Now that he knows something's up won't he go running to them to inform them of our supposed evilness?"

"He won't," Willow assured him, lips compressed into a thin line. "He has no proof and Buffy won't believe him until he can prove it. Giles might side with him, but he dislikes Angel almost as much as you do, so who knows? Either way, he'll have to bide his time until he can show them some hard evidence that we can't be trusted. In the meantime, expect to find him lurking around. He's going to be waiting for the perfect time to pounce, to prove that we're some sort of threat. You just watch what you say, I'll handle Angel. Stupid, ignorant, interfering, broody vampire." she muttered unhappily, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the cushions of the sofa.

This was all so hard for her. Angel, who had been a trusted if not slightly distant friend in the past, was now so suspicious of them, so.harsh. He didn't even try to be friendly anymore. Ever since they had come upon him when they saved Buffy from the Master he had this idea that they were here as a part of some sinister plot to hurt Buffy. There was nothing they could do to seemingly earn his hard won trust. They saved Buffy, helped her defeat the bad guys on numerous occasions, and yet none of it seemed to matter to him. Sure, he found out she had spoken to Spike, alone, and come out unscathed which was unusual, but why did he have to automatically assume she was up to something? How could she and Xander put the past to rest, truly move on with their new lives, if Angel was hovering over their shoulders, waiting for them to screw up?

Xander opened his mouth, prepared to argue with the tiny girl, and paused. Her eyes were clenched shut tightly, her head thrown back to rest against the couch, and her whole body radiated tension and something more that made his heart ache. Sadness, but it was more than that. It was unhappiness, a cloud of despondency and discontent just seemed to hover over her and he didn't know what he could say to make it better. Closing his mouth, he stood from his chair, looking at the redhead sorrowfully before leaning over to place a whisper of a kiss on her forehead. She didn't move, didn't even acknowledge he was there. He smiled sadly and left her alone, knowing she needed some time to her self. He headed for the stairs, hoping for once to get a decent night's sleep, but in light of recent events, he knew that was probably impossible.

Willow heard his soft footsteps fade as Xander made his way up the stairs. Moments later she let her eyes open, her green gaze staring blankly ahead toward the front door. It wasn't fair. None of this was her idea. She hadn't been the one desperate to turn back the clock. She wasn't the one who wanted to relive all this over again. Common sense had told her it was a foolish idea, that some things couldn't be changed, no matter how much you wished or prayed. She should have listened. But once again she was blinded by the all consuming need to help Xander, to make him better, and her common sense flew out the window.

This wasn't the first time she had performed a spell without thinking about the possible consequences, but it was so much worse than before. At least before when she screwed up, she had a close, tight-knit group of people that could be counted on to be by her side, to help her fix her mess. But now Buffy was still a friend, but they weren't that close. Giles was so formal around her, acting more the teacher than the father figure he had come to represent to her. And Angel, well, he pretty much seemed to hate her. They had never been that close before, but she always knew if she ever needed anything, he would be there for her. Before he would save her life without a second thought, now he would probably be content to just throw her to the wolves. And it hurt.

Xander was the only one she had left. Maybe that was how it was supposed to be. In the beginning, before Buffy and vampires, before wacky spells and First Evils, it was just the two of them, people had come and gone, but in the end it was just the two of them. But that thought only depressed her even more. She loved Xander, heart and soul, but she wanted more from life. Lately though, life hadn't been her friend. Maybe it was payback, backlash from the spell that sent them here, but whatever it was, it made her miserable.

It wasn't fair. Xander had been the one who wanted this so badly, but when all their troubles started, when Spike began to become suspicious, when Angel became confrontational, Xander was able to walk away. But not her, poor Willow, always the responsible one. She was left alone to deal with the mess they both made, left to pacify angry vampires and come up with explanations for something even she didn't fully understand. It didn't seem right. Why was he able to stand by the sidelines while she was being pulled in different directions? Why was she the only one who really seemed to be paying for their mistake?

An errant tear fell from her eye, sliding slowly, languidly down her pale cheek before dropping from her jaw, leaving a single, tiny wet dot on her shirt. What she wouldn't give to see Anya right now, as strange as that might sound. The vengeance demon still had her powers and all Willow wanted to do was wish her life back to normal. But wishing was pointless. No doubt if she even managed to find Anya, the demon would be counted on to screw up her only wish and she, with her luck, would probably find her self worse off than before.

With a heavy sigh, Willow stood, brushing down her rumpled clothing and running a hand over her face. She scrubbed away any trace of tears on her face, leaving her cheeks a bit red from the chaffing. She schooled her face into a cool, collected façade. Now wasn't the time for a crying jag, she had to be strong, resilient. If she wasn't, then who would be? Not Xander that was for sure. Straightening her back, she walked stiffly to the stairs. Right now she just wanted to go to bed. She would worry about what to do about Angel and Spike tomorrow. And unfortunately tomorrow would come soon enough.

~~~*~~~

He let a small, sad smile cross his usually hard face as he stepped through the doorway and into the lavish bedroom that seemed to shine amidst the gloom of the factory. Drusilla was lying quietly on top of the covers of her four poster bed, her pale blue dress, the color of the mid-afternoon sky, arranged so that it didn't wrinkle while she rested. Her closed eyes fluttered open when she felt someone enter her room and smiled tiredly at her visitor. Struggling to sit up, moving slowly as she smoothed down her gown and lay back against the pillows at the head of her bed, Dru watched as he sat gently on the edge of her bed.

"How you feeling, pet?" Spike asked his voice low and worried. Lately Dru was the only one who managed to get him out of the funk he had been in since Willow's confession. He was still angry and confused, which caused him to sink further and further into himself. But just one glance at Dru, at the woman he cared for more than anything, the one he loved like a sister who was still so weak, and he was himself again.

"Sleepy," she murmured, eyes half closed. A smile, that looked almost secretive, tugged at her lips and she began to hum to herself, a tune Spike couldn't place even after all his years on earth.

"Did you eat anything?" he pressed, sighing sorrowfully with a tinge of frustration when she absently shook her head. "Ducks, you need to feed. You're not strong enough to go without."

"Hmmm, wasn't hungry," Dru replied, a sullen pout on her face.

Spike took a deep, unneeded breath and clenched his fists. This was so hard sometimes, looking after her. She was stubborn when she wanted to be and there was no arguing with her, mostly due to the insanity that was forced upon her over a century ago. He tried his best to stay calm; to try to make her see reason, but some days there was only so much he could take. On those days, he would leave. Just for a walk or a bite to eat, he was never gone for very long. That was the reason he had been out tonight, in fact. He just needed sometime to himself, without minions puttering about or Dru speaking in nonsensical riddles. It had been a productive night though, he had the pleasure of seeing Angel get berated by the tiny redhead who had thoroughly mucked up his life, and he found out where the little witch lived.

Drusilla's soft, breathy giggle drew him out of his thoughts and he smiled tightly down at her. He stood, slipping off his duster before moving to sit beside Dru on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. The brunette shifted, gently resting her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. Spike moved a bit, wrapping one arm around her shoulders so she could sit more comfortably.

"Miss Edith said you saw Daddy tonight," she mumbled, her voice slightly muffled by his shirts. "I.I miss him." she admitted in a hushed whisper. "Do you miss him, Spike?"

"Sometimes," he replied after a tense moment. He was always completely honest with Dru, no matter how much the truth displeased him. "But yeah, I saw him. We didn't chat though, he was.busy."

"He was being naughty," she said, her voice distant, like she was somewhere else. That was most likely the truth, at least when she had a vision or was talking to the stars. She was there, but not. "Saying nasty things to the little girl.little tree."

"That he was," Spike nodded. "But the chit took care of it, told him off right proper."

"She confuses me, Spike," Drusilla whined, her hands raised to her temples, the palms of her hands resting against her head. Her nails dug into her hair and to her scalp until Spike sat up and gently pried her clenched fists open and pulled them away from her head.

"Confuses me too," he muttered under his breath.

"I see her, in my head," she explained, looking up at him with wide, fathomless eyes. "She tries to be strong, to be brave, but she can't do it much longer. She's too many things at once. She's a woman in the body of a teenager, a sorcerer with the appearance of an amateur, an old soul in shiny new wrapping."

Her eyes glazed over and she tilted her head to the right, "Her thoughts run in circles, round and round.she doesn't understand. She asked for help from her Goddess, but." she leaned in close to him, a conspiratorial grin on her face, "that's not who answered." she finished, eyes lit up with dark delight.

"What are you saying, pet?" Spike asked warily, eyes narrowed.

"I-" she began, before stopping. Her eyes became clear once more, lucid. He knew in an instant whatever had been speaking to her was gone, just his luck. With a heavy sigh, he pulled away from the brunette and stood, moving to search his duster pockets for his cigarettes and lighter.

"Spike?" The blonde turned and looked over his shoulder. Dru was sitting on the edge of her bed, legs dangling off the side. There was more candlelight shining on her form now and he could see the dark circles under her eyes, the unnatural pallor of her skin, she looked exhausted. "I'm tired."

Her voice, eerily reminiscent of a child's, was pleading and his earlier frustration almost vanished entirely. He crossed the room silently and lifted her in his arms and placed her down on the overstuffed chair to the side of the bed. Leaving her there he turned down the bed, moving the comforter and sheets back and rearranging the pillows so she could rest more comfortably. When he was done, he lifted her up once more and laid her down gently on the soft mattress. He removed her shoes before tucking her in and brushing an errant strand of hair from her face.

Smiling gratefully, Dru let her eyelids drift shut under his watchful eye. He smiled sadly and grabbed his duster before slipping out of her room. "Sleep well, ducks."

~Part: 26~

Willow was sitting alone in her living room, content to remain in the deafening silence. It was now an hour past sunset, but she wasn't on her way to the library. She had elected to call in sick today, skipping both school and the Scooby meeting. Xander still went, and Angel was probably simmering at her disappearance, but she just wasn't in the mood for research. She was truly beginning to believe her life was destined to suck beyond the telling of it and there was nothing she could do to change it. This sort of pessimism didn't come naturally to the redhead, but she had been kicked while she was down for too long now to be happy go lucky.

She was curled up on her sofa, knees tucked to her chest. It was a cool night so she had thrown on a pair of jeans and a yellow thermal, not exactly the most flattering outfit, but who was she trying to impress? She rested her head against her knees, letting out a tired, shaky breath and closing her eyes. There were some days when she wondered why she bothered to get out of bed and this was turning out to be one of those.

Maybe fifteen minutes later, there came a knock on her front door. It wasn't pounding, or overly loud, just a calm subdued knock. Glancing curiously at the ticking clock on the mantle, she frowned. Xander wouldn't have even left for patrol yet, so there was no way that could be him. He wouldn't be home for another two or three hours at the earliest. And it couldn't be your garden variety door-to-door salesman, not so long after dark and especially in Sunnydale. People here were ignorant, but most avoided staying out long after sunset.

Resignedly Willow stood, not about to call out a welcome, she had learned her lesson well. She peeked out the tiny window beside the front door and froze at who she saw. Taking a step back, she blinked and shook her head before looking back outside. When she realized she wasn't seeing things, she swallowed convulsively and unlocked the deadbolt, slowly turning the doorknob and letting the door swing open with a squeak.

"Evening, pet," Spike smiled falsely, his insincerity quite obvious.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the witch hissed, eyes narrowing. She studiously remained inside the safety of her house, knowing that if she fought with Spike tonight, she wouldn't stand a chance, not in her present condition. "How did you find out where I live?"

"I have eyes everywhere," he smirked cryptically. She glared at him, looking annoyed at his flippant response. "Oh come on Red, I'm evil here. Did you really expect a straight answer out of me? I know you aren't *that* daft."

"What do you want?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest protectively.

"Just came to chat," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't suppose you'd care to invite me in?"

"As you said, I'm not that daft," Willow retorted smartly. He grinned at her response, but it was cold and hard. "If you have something to say, then I suggest you say it and leave."

"Now that's no way to treat a guest," he admonished, "but then again, I think you have trouble with your manners. You're not supposed to slam doors in your guest's faces either, but that didn't seem to stop you. Must have pissed off Paingel right good, some chit blowing him off like that."

She didn't bother asking him how he knew about her confrontation with Angel, he wouldn't tell her anyhow.

"You're just making friends left and right aren't you?" he mocked with a sardonic chuckle. Shaking his head humorlessly, Spike leaned against the invisible barrier barring him from crossing the threshold to her home. "The watcher doesn't trust you, Peaches thinks you're evil. Keep going like this and you won't even have that idiot Xapper to count on."

"And what about you?" she asked listlessly, cocking her head to the side in questioning. "Do you hate me, think I'm evil?"

"What makes you think that I think about you at all?" he countered icily.

"Well, you're here, aren't you?" she replied with a raised eyebrow. "So, am I evil? Do you loathe me as much as your sire does?" Her voice was raised, but she didn't notice. Her words flew out of her mouth, unable to be controlled. Her nerves were shot and she was just too stressed and tired for this.

"Evil, nah," he scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "I haven't decided whether I hate you or not, but it's safe to say your not at the top of the list of my favorite people at the moment."

"Damn and I so hoped we could be best friends," she snorted indelicately. That was the wrong thing to say. Spike's blue eyes narrowed angrily and he straightened almost imperceptibly, his fists clenched at his sides. "Look, we have nothing to say to each other. So why don't you go and do something-vampire-y and leave me be?" she suggested in exasperation.

"We have nothing to say to each other?" he sneered incredulously. "You still haven't told me everything you know, what you changed in my life! So I damn well think we have something to talk about!" He was shouting now, but he didn't care. If someone overheard him and came to investigate, he'd just kill them and go back to yelling at her. "You can keep secrets from Angelus, hell I encourage it, but I will *not* be kept in the bloody dark!"

"Why do you want to know?" Willow demanded her voice shaky. "What difference will it make? You can't change anything! I can't change anything! Believe me if there was a way to reverse this damn spell, I would have done it! You think you're the only one whose life was screwed up?" she countered, eyes glassy with unshed tears borne of frustration. "Sure, you didn't ask for any of this, but you know what? Neither did I. Life wasn't supposed to turn out like this! Everything's all wrong; you don't think I know that?"

Caught off guard by her unexpected rant, Spike took an unintentional step back. Seeing what he had done, he puffed up his chest and stepped toward her again, regaining ground as she screeched at him.

"I hate it here!" Willow cried, "I hate that I've lost my friends, that I can't just be happy. No, I'm too busy dealing with obnoxious, nosy vampires to even rest!" she added with a harsh glare in the blonde's direction.

"Hey!" he barked, "You mucked with my life and you are calling me nosy?!"

"Fine," the redhead gave in, "you want to know it all? You want to know what the life of William the Bloody was like before, then fine. Just don't get mad at me when you don't like my answers."

He stared at her, waiting. Spike echoed her posture, arms crossed over his chest, feet shoulder width apart, expression blank.

"You came to Sunnydale to try to kill the Slayer and strengthen Drusilla," she began tonelessly. "You managed to make Dru well, but in the process got a church dropped on you, nice going there by the way," she smirked at his growl. "Then Angel lost his soul, something I'm determined to make sure doesn't happen again, and he took over your spot as Master while you were stuck in a wheelchair. Angelus spent too much time shagging Dru and making plans to destroy the world to pay attention to you and you went to Buffy for help in stopping him. Some Slayer of Slayers you were," she snorted. "So she stopped him, and he got his soul back, and you and Dru left town."

Spike shifted uncomfortably from his spot on the porch, but she didn't pay attention to him. "But were you smart enough to stay away? Oh no. Dru left you and you came back, all pathetic and weepy, kidnapped me and Xander and demanded I perform a love spell to bring her back to you. You came to your senses, and I use that term loosely, and left again. But the next year you were back and after the Gem of Amara. Found it too, but Buffy took from you and gave it to Angel. That must have sucked, huh?" she laughed coldly.

"Soon enough you were back in Sunnydale to kill Buffy and managed to get yourself caught by a secret military organization and they shoved a microchip in your head. Poor Spikey wasn't able to feed anymore, couldn't even hit a human. So guess what you did?" she teased, her face in a mask of amusement. "You ran to the Slayer for help *again*. And she didn't stake you. She just locked you up in Giles' bathtub for safekeeping. But we figured you were as harmless as a puppy after awhile and we let you loose. But here's a twist! You discovered you could still hurt demons! And you being you wanted your daily dose of pointless violence, so you hunted *vampires* for fun." Willow didn't think a vampire could actually pale, but he did. Spike looked both angry and disbelieving, and she hadn't even gotten to the best part yet.

"But it gets better," she taunted, leaning against her door lazily. "Somehow, after spending all that time patrolling with Buffy, you actually managed to fall in love with the Slayer." She paused, letting it sink it. His jaw dropped and he shook his head furiously in denial but she didn't give him the chance to argue. "Yeah, as stupid as that sounds, you fell for Buffy, hard. And she hated you, but did that stop you? Nope. You just had this uber nerd Warren build a love-bot who looked like her to keep you company! Buffy found out about that though and it was taken away from you. Thank God because it was really icky!" she remembered with a disgusted shudder.

"Now I'm gonna skip ahead," she decided with a shrug of her shoulders. "But eventually, Buffy ended up hating life, she felt empty. So she used you to make her feel. She took your twisted love and devotion and used it to make herself feel better, but she still hated you. But did you do anything about it? No, you took it and came back for more. And then, when she still pushed you away, you left and did the dumbest thing. You went and got a soul for her. You thought she would finally love you if you had a soul, like Angel. But she didn't. She liked you more after that, respected you, but she never loved you. And then the First started attacking us and when we went to the final battle, you were there, wearing an amulet that had some power but none of us knew what it was. You, Buffy, and the others went down into the pit of the hell mouth and maybe you can guess what happened next. But in case you don't know, you died in there. You burned to save the world, to save the life of a Slayer you loved who, even as you died, couldn't bring her self to love you."

Spike could say nothing. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He fell for a Slayer but that was impossible. He couldn't stand the bitch. He wanted to see her dead more than anything. But at the same time, he knew the witch wasn't lying. She spoke the truth there was no deception, just sadness and utter honesty. But he still didn't want to believe it.

"Are you glad you know now?" Willow asked softly, looking at him sorrowfully, seeing his shock and dismay. "Will it make you sleep better? Does it do your inquisitive mind good to know that before you died saving the world all for the love of a woman who was born to destroy your kind, who took from you all the time and gave nothing in return? Are you relieved now that you know that you turned into a whipped shell of your former self?"

"No," he admitted so quietly she almost didn't hear it. His head was hanging down in contemplation, his hands shaking slightly.

"Welcome to my world," she smiled tightly. "You think all these changes are easier on me because I remember my life from before, but you're wrong. I live with all of my memories *every* minute of the day and it makes everything so much harder. I didn't tell you all of this before because, me being the empathetic person that I am, I wanted to spare you this. You were angry and hurt enough just knowing your life changed, I didn't want to add to it. You made me and I only hope it gives you some sort of peace now, although I'm not sure how that's possible."

"How-how do you get past it all?" he asked, his voice monotone.

"Don't know," she admitted with a half-hearted shrug. "I haven't yet. I just keep praying to the Goddess that everything will get better."

He snorted in amusement, "Your Goddess," he sniffed, shaking his head. "Sod your bloody Goddess. What the hell has that bint done for you lately?"

"Don't," she commanded, but he didn't head her warning. He needed to strike out at someone and she was as good as anyone.

"Don't you get it, witch?" Spike smirked. "Your Goddess doesn't give a damn about you. If she did do you think your life would have turned out like this? Do you think you'd be so sodding miserable if your beloved Goddess was watching out for you? She turned her back on you long ago, just like everyone else around you."

"Shut up," she hissed angrily. "You don't know what you're talking about. Don't-"

"You prayed to this Goddess when you performed this blasted spell, didn't you?" She gave him a jerky nod and he grinned deviously. "Yeah, well hate to break it to you Red, but your girl didn't answer you. Your Goddess ignored your pleas for help, ignored *you*, and you still are devoted to her. Now who's a whipped shell of their former self, eh?"

"Now you're just making stuff up," she replied angrily.

"Dru has visions, pet. She's connected to that bloody Goddess you talk about. And guess what, love?" he taunted, glaring at her form in the doorway. "She knows who answered your prayer, and it wasn't who you were hoping for."

"Oh yeah?" Willow bit out, her confidence faltering. "How can you be so sure that-?" she started, but was cut off by the shrill ringing of the phone. She and Spike stood there, unmoving, both shaken and a little disoriented by the sudden noise. When it rang again, the noise seemed to finally pierce through to her brain and she shook her head.

Turning her back on the vampire, Willow walked slowly to the phone that rested on the end table by the armchair. "Hello?" she greeted, her voice strained.

Spike watched as her posture straightened, but from his distance he couldn't make out who was on the other line.

"Xander?" she asked curiously, brow furrowed when she heard her best friend's voice come over the phone. "What's the matter?"

"You need to get down to Restfield Cemetery Wills," he said gravely, voice shaky and nervous, "Now."

"Why?" she frowned, glancing over her shoulder nervously at Spike.

"It's important, just come here," he pleaded. "Buffy's here too, but you need to see this."

"Xander," she tried to argue. He was confusing her. What could be so dire that he wanted her to walk through darkened Sunnydale to see them? "What the hell is it?"

"It-we found-" he choked out, forcing the worrisome words out of his mouth, "It's a Bringer."

~Part: 27~

The phone line went dead only seconds after Xander stammered that he had found a Bringer, leaving Willow to stare at the object blindly. Listlessly, Willow placed the phone back in its cradle, green eyes staring off into space. Worry, confusion, fear, all these feelings and much more were clearly etched across her face and she sighed, a quick expulsion of air that seemed too loud in the suddenly quiet living room. She ran a hand through her hair and it took her a second to realize that she was shaking.

She hoped there was a chance he had been wrong. From what she remembered, the Bringers didn't appear in good ole Sunnydale until senior year of high school. They, along with the First, had tormented Angel, trying to get him to kill Buffy and turn to 'the dark side', as cheesy as that may sound. But when that didn't work, they had been content to settle for his fiery death. Thanks to the Powers though, Angel had not burned at dawn. Instead, the citizens of southern California had woken early that morning to see snowflakes floating in the air and heavy clouds graying the sky.

What could it mean then, for Bringers to be here already? It wouldn't be the first time since their arrival back in the Sunnydale of years ago that something had gone wrong or changed drastically. But this was by far the most worrisome of the changes. The chiming of her parent's grandfather clock, that signaled the arrival of the nine o'clock hour, woke her from her shock induced stupor. Her expression changed from conflicted and fearful to deadly serious in the blink of an eye.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Willow walked purposely to the stairs, taking them two at time. She hastily grabbed her new leather jacket and a few spare stakes. This article of clothing was quickly being a staple of her wardrobe. She had found it two weeks before and knew it was perfect for her. There were hidden pockets on the inside, big enough to conceal bottles of holy water and even a smaller stake. She grabbed her frequently worn necklace, the silver crucifix she usually kept hidden in case her far too absent parents decided to pay a visit, and slipped it around her neck as an extra safety precaution. Patting down her jacket, she was satisfied that she was properly armed for a nighttime stroll on the hell mouth, and raced back down the stairs.

Grabbing her house keys from their resting place by the lamp that her Aunt Karen had given her parents as an anniversary gift, she turned back to the front door, intent on zooming through the door and to Restfield as fast as her feet could carry her.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Willow closed her eyes, annoyed at her own forgetfulness. How the hell could she forget that Spike was still lingering about on her porch? Oh yeah, she was in the middle of a nervous breakdown, that's how. When she opened her eyes once more, they were steely with determination and a hint of aggression. She almost wanted him to pick a fight with her; she was seriously in the mood for some violence. Maybe it would make her feel better.

"Out," she replied simply. His cool, nonchalant expression turned into a withering glare at her flippant response. "I think we are done here, don't you? You got what you came for and I have more important things to be doing than trading barbs with you."

"Is that so?" Spike asked voice low and monotone.

"Yes," the redhead said brusquely. She took another bold step toward the door, only a matter of feet away from the steaming blonde, protected from his anger only by an invisible barrier. "May I make a suggestion?" she asked sweetly, saccharine oozing from her voice, when he failed to move out of her way.

"Go right ahead, love," he smirked, forcing a look of amusement onto his stoic face.

"I suggest you remove yourself from my doorway before I am forced to remove you myself," the witch said with a cold grin.

"I dunno," he shrugged infuriatingly. He straightened his back, trying to make himself seem taller, puffing out his chest in an attempt to give his lean form more bulk. "I might be in the mood to be manhandled tonight. You offering?"

Spike watched, doing his best to conceal his anxiousness, as the redhead glowered at him, her usually vibrant green eyes darkening to an almost pitch black. Without even a single word spoken, the witch raised her hand, palm outward, and he felt a sudden tightening in his body. Unable to comprehend what was happening, Spike tried to move but found he was immobile. A quick wave of her hand and he was thrown clear of the porch and across the lawn. His head was wracked with intense pain as it hit the trunk of the lone tree in her front yard, slamming against the solid object hard enough to make him see the stars that Drusilla spoke so fondly of.

He was trying to clear his head, vision cloudy, when he heard the soft, "Sorry." Looking up from his spot on the ground he saw Willow stop feet away from his prone form, glancing down at him with a frown, her eyes still unnaturally dark. He could tell, from the mere tone of her voice that she wasn't sorry for what she had done; only that she had been forced to do it. He blinked, blue eyes fighting to focus, but when he opened them again, she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Willow walked briskly down the street, now about three blocks away from Restfield Cemetery. She had left Spike sprawled across her front lawn five minutes before and was making pretty good time, which she was thankful for. He had caused an unexpected delay and she wasn't in the mood for a lecture from Xander about her tardiness on top of everything else. It was best not to anger Xander when he was like this, stressed and scared. He would snap at her, say things he didn't mean, hurtful things that while she knew weren't really true would cause a pain in her heart much like a physical wound.

As she neared the cemetery, she could hear muffled voices. Both were male, one distinctly British. Her heart plummeted when she realized that Giles was there, and most likely Angel as well. She had hoped that it would only be Xander and Buffy. Buffy, while naturally curious, was more likely to kill things without asking for details, a trait she was truly beginning to appreciate in her friend. But Angel and Giles would have questions no doubt and she wasn't sure how to explain the significance of the presence of a Bringer without giving away too many of her own secrets.

Pushing the iron gates open, she winced when they creaked loudly in the stillness of the night. The foursome congregated almost twenty feet away turned as one, Buffy brandishing her usual stake but lowering it as soon as she saw who it was. Giles looked almost relieved to see her, which came as a surprise. Normally he was never overly thrilled about her presence, but considering she was pretty much the monster expert in these parts, he was happier to see her than she remembered in quite some time.

Buffy looked flustered. Her long blonde hair had been pulled into a tight ponytail, but there were a few errant strands that had come out of place. She seemed tired, which wasn't unusual considering her late hours and continuous lack of sleep. Willow noticed that the sleeve of her coat had been ripped open, the cut looking clean and precise, most likely made by some sort of dagger or sword, and there was a thin trail of blood where her arm was visible. It was the merest of flesh wounds, but still a wound nonetheless. The Slayer smiled exhaustedly at the redhead and Willow returned it with a nervous grin of her own.

Angel wasn't a happy vampire. His expression, which had been positively grim when she had arrived, had turned into one of absolute menace at the sight of her. She felt a pang of sorrow, unwilling to believe that things had deteriorated between them so badly so quickly. She saw him glance warily at Xander before turning his attention back to her, frowning at the young man. She could understand his obvious curiosity and suspicion. Xander was staring down at the body between them all with an expression much akin to absolute horror.

They all had formed a circle around the man, Giles standing by the head, Buffy and Xander on either side of his arms, and Angel at the feet. The robe clad man was lying on the ground at an angle that made it glaringly obvious he was no longer alive. Willow stepped closer to the huddled group, placing her hand gently on Xander's shoulder. The boy jumped at her touch and she saw Angel's eyes narrow. He was wondering, no doubt, why the sight of this man was causing such a reaction in the young man.

"Oh Will," Xander breathed with a mixture of relief and anxiety. "G-Good, you're here."

"What happened?" the witch asked softly.

"We had been patrolling," Giles spoke up as he kneeled to get a closer look at the disfigured face he had been hovering over, "when Buffy thought she had heard voices coming from that tomb," he said, gesturing absently to a mausoleum to her left.

"Voices?" Willow broke in, biting her lip. Bringers weren't big talkers really. Buffy always hated that about them really. She enjoyed a bit a verbal sparring during her slaying, but these guys never played along.

"Chanting," clarified the Slayer, arms crossed over her chest. Willow nodded gravely. That she could believe, but it did not bode well for them.

"We went inside," the Watcher continued, picking up immediately where he left off, not missing a beat. "But there was no one there. We could all hear the voices now, but could not find any doors that would lead to another room. But then Angel," he said, glancing up at the pensive vampire across from him, "found what you might call a trap door behind one of the standing tombs. Buffy opened the door and went down below the crypt, Angel behind her, Xander behind him and so on. But the chanting had stopped."

"May I?" Willow asked tentatively as she looked to the mausoleum. Giles nodded and she cautiously stepped inside, the foursome behind her.

"There was no one down there when we finally stepped onto the ground," the Watcher told her, watching as the redhead took stock of their surroundings. She moved to where the trap door was, now laid shut. She nearly reached out to open it again, but paused and retracted her hand at almost lightening speed. Still, she said nothing, so he continued. "We took a look around. There looked to be markings on the ground, but we had poor light and I could not tell what symbols they were. I believe we shall come back during the day, with a flashlight as well, and make some sketches, see if they are in any of my books."

"What happened then?" she prompted, wanting to get back on track, stepping swiftly away from the door and back to the center of the crypt.

"We went back up to ground level," he said, removing his glasses and polishing them furiously, an old habit of his that usually calmed his frantic nerves. "When we left here and stepped back outside we were surrounded."

"How many?" the witch asked; voice hoarse.

"Maybe ten?" he estimated. "They all looked the same, exactly like that fellow outside. Black robes, bald, n-no eyes," he stammered, the disturbing image of that face clearly burned into his mind. "They all had no eyes, yet they could see, they knew where we were, fought expertly. A-Angel managed to kill the one you see outside, but the rest escaped. Gone in the bloody blink of an eye," he muttered discontentedly.

"Do you know what they are, who they are?" Angel asked quietly, his tone neither harsh nor friendly. She sighed and nodded. No point in lying to them about that. This was why they had called her after all; she had more intimate knowledge of monsters and all things demonic than even the Watcher, just none of them, save Xander, knew how.

"They are called Bringers," she replied gravely. She needed fresh air, already too tired of being stuck in the tiny space of the crypt. She moved outside, the rest of them following her as she knew they would. Xander remained unnervingly quiet all this time, eyes darting to the form of the fallen Bringer and then to his feet, unable to look at him any longer. It wasn't the dead body that disturbed him, he had seen too many of those in his short lifetime to bother him anymore. But Bringers were bad news, they had barely escaped the First what was only months before to them, he didn't know if he could do it again if it truly turned out that the First was making a comeback.

"Bringers," muttered Giles, eyes squinted as he fought to remember where he had heard that name before.

"They are pretty dangerous," she informed them with a dark frown. "I don't know much about them really but, as bad as they are, they're only lackeys."

"That implies they have a boss," Angel started when she hesitated. The redhead looked him in the eye for the first time that night and the dark vampire frowned at the blatant fear, worry, and exhaustion that shined in her green eyes.

"Yes," she admitted. "But I'm not sure who it is." Willow lowered her eyes, glancing back to Xander. It wasn't exactly a lie. She didn't know for a fact that they were working with the First, but it was pretty much a given. Still, she wasn't ready to admit that just yet.

Silence reigned for a long moment, no one sure what to say. Buffy hadn't thought too much of what happened initially. This wasn't exactly out of the ordinary for her. Giles had been a bit worried, but then again he was always a little jumpy. But it was Angel and Xander's reactions that had caused the Slayer to worry. Angel was tense and she knew he could tell something was off. He didn't know what it was about these guys that bothered him so much, but it was a feeling he couldn't ignore.

And Xander had paled significantly at the sight of the men that had surrounded them. And not the usual 'oh I'm gonna die' sort of paleness. Something about those guys had him frightened to the bone and Buffy wasn't about to shrug off his worry. She hadn't been too surprised when the younger brunette called Willow. Her redheaded friend was like a walking demonic encyclopedia. And come Willow had, in record time as well, and with her she brought bad news. Buffy nearly groaned. She hated when the bad guys were organized. It made her appreciate the fledgling vampires that she killed on a nightly basis. At least they had no plans for world domination, just a quick feed. She loathed elaborate plans because they came attached to smart enemies. And call her what you will, but Buffy liked her bad guys as stupid as they come. It made her job easier.

Eager to go home, knowing there was nothing more that could be done tonight about the newest baddies in town, Buffy finally broke the silence. "What do we do with him?" she asked, gesturing to the dead man on the lawn.

"Don't you think we have more important things to be worrying about, Buffy?" stammered Giles with a shake of his head. "It is imperative we find out who is behind their appearance in Sunnydale."

"And we will," she shrugged tiredly. "It's what we do. But not tonight, you know we won't get anything done tonight. I still have another three cemeteries to patrol before I can call it a night and you know if I try to research now I'll just fall asleep. So, we research tomorrow. But right now I think it's imperative that we dispose of the dead guy before someone finds him. We can't exactly leave him where he is, can we?" she countered hurriedly.

"I'll get rid of him," Angel said gruffly.

"You do that," Giles agreed with a stiff nod. "You should finish patrol Buffy," he advised the blonde. He turned to the redhead and her silent best friend, but Willow cut him off before he could speak.

"We'll be fine," she assured him with a tight smile. "We'll just head home. You guys go on ahead." The Watcher nodded his assent and walked with Buffy to the entrance of the cemetery where he bade farewell to his charge and they left in opposite directions.

Angel said nothing to the twosome, instead just roughly grabbing the body on the ground and hoisting him indelicately over his shoulder. Without offering them a goodbye, he started for the exit, eventually fading into the darkness.

"You okay?" Willow asked softly, frowning as she turned back to Xander. The boy sighed and looked down at his best friend.

"This is bad, isn't it Wills?" he murmured resignedly. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, so she just settled for a nod of her head.

"Listen," she said quietly, stepping in closer to him so as not to be overheard. Call it paranoia, but she was being cautious. "When I was inside there," she whispered, looking back toward the crypt, "I felt something, like a wave of bad mojo. I-"

"Oh don't tell me you're going down there!" he exclaimed quietly. She glared at him and he practically deflated under her gaze. "You weren't there Wills," he tried to explain. "We're not just talking one or two scary guys; we're talking a butt load of them!"

"I'm going down there Xander," she said firmly, daring him to argue with her any further. He chanced a glance behind him toward the mausoleum and sighed gravely.

"Fine," he mumbled. He wasn't happy about this. In fact he had the distinct feeling that she would be walking into a trap. But his Wills was stubborn to a fault and there would be no changing her mind. On the other hand, he wasn't about to let her go it alone. She had done that enough since their arrival in Sunnydale.

He gave her a hard stare and squared his shoulders. "But I'm going with you."

~Part: 28~

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Xander asked, hoping Willow would have changed her mind. This just felt wrong. Like this deep, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, the worry wouldn't leave the boy and he hoped no matter how futile it was she would not press this.

Willow didn't respond, instead she walked around him, heading straight for the decrepit mausoleum without looking back to see if he had followed. But follow her he did, unwilling to leave her on her own, no matter how foolish he thought this was. You would think, after all those years they had spent as Scoobies, they would learn not to go looking for trouble. But Willow had always been too inquisitive for her own good and Xander knew once she had made up her mind, there would be no changing it.

With a heavy sigh Xander dragged his feet, slowly following her lead into the cold and dank crypt, past the dead and dying grass that surrounded it. Only moonlight lit the small, stone room, leaving it draped in an eerie darkness. It didn't seem to faze the redhead and truthfully it didn't bother the brunette, but he had already been in here once tonight and he had no desire to go back.

The witch knelt down quietly by the trap door, Xander hovering over her shoulder. "Do you want me to go in first?" he offered. He had already been underground once before that night and knew the layout of the cavern.

"No offense Xan," she replied softly, "but if there is something down there, I think we're going to need someone with power in the lead. I know you've got your stake, but they don't work very well against Bringers. But I have my magic, at least I can protect us, get us out safely if need be."

"Okay," he acquiesced. "Just be careful, I'll be right behind you." She smiled up at him, her eyes a little glassy. They had a moment, just staring into each other's eyes, preparing to step into the unknown together. Willow stood suddenly and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Xander seemed a bit surprised but returned it wholeheartedly.

"I love you Xan," she whispered. She had missed this. Not the danger or even the adrenaline rush that came with it. No, she missed this. Just her and Xander, a team, it had been so long. And it was the first time in months that she didn't feel utterly alone.

"Love you too, you know that," he murmured, resting his cheek on the top of her head. She took a deep breathing, taking in the scent of him, something so purely Xander and it made her feel safe again.

Smiling up at him, she squared her shoulders and centered herself, readying herself for any dangers that possibly awaited them underground. She bent at the waist, grabbing firmly onto the latch to the trap door. She silently debated whether to just fling the thing open and try to surprise anyone who might be down there. But soon enough she decided to take the slow approach.

She pulled the latch gently, the door sticking a little before finally giving way. It opened without a sound, which she was grateful for. She opened it all the way, letting the door rest against the stone of the standing tomb before looking down into the darkened cavern. She took a moment to let her eyes adjust as best they could before taking the first step down.

The stairs were covered with dirt and she flinched when her tennis shoes made a crunching sound on the ground. She paused after the second step; waiting for any sign that there was someone there preparing to kill her. She heard nothing. She started down once more, hearing a second set of footsteps and knowing that Xander was right behind her.

With ten more steps she was enclosed completely in the pitch blackness of the cavern, unable to see her own hand in front of her face. Xander took two more steps before he too was on the floor, accidentally bumping into the redhead, causing her to jump out of nervousness. They both stood there at the bottom of the stairs, unmoving, for what felt like forever, but was in reality only twenty seconds.

They were enclosed in an inky blackness; the only light that filtered into the room was from above, where the trap door lay ajar. Even with that they could see nothing. Staying close to the foot of the stairs, their breathing was the only sound to be heard, the quiet exhalations sounding harsh and loud in the eerie silence.

The twosome screamed in surprise and fright when they heard a resounding boom. The only light that had illuminated the stairway had vanished, the stone lid of the trap door slammed shut so violently that the sound of it still echoed around the cavern. They looked around, now truly unable to see a thing. Willow could feel her heart in throat and she swallowed convulsively. Xander, who was still pressed up against her, found her hand in the darkness and squeezed it tightly, trying to be reassuring. It was a nice thought, but he was failing miserably.

A sudden whoosh sounded about the room and they had to blink to protect their eyes from the flame that now flickered to life. Torch after torch lit and burned, the fire sounding like a dull roar as the cavern was slowly growing brighter and brighter. Willow looked around anxiously, trying to take in her surroundings.

Everything was a dusty brown. The walls and floor were all made of dirt and she realized that someone must have simply dug a massive whole in the ground below the crypt above. It wasn't a small room, but cave-like in nature. It was long but not narrow, almost circular. The walls were ragged and there were the occasional tree root that peeked through. Along the walls, there were torches lined up, nearly fifteen in total. While that night had been cool, the heat would become nearly stifling if the fires kept going like they were. She spun on her heel slowly, seeing the markings that Giles had been talking about.

On the ground, in a bright red which she knew wasn't paint, was a symbol she wasn't sure she recognized. It was a massive circle and within it was a pentagram. There were pictures inside it that she couldn't describe, they just looked like messy, squiggly lines to her, but they obviously had some significance. The stench of the room of almost unbearable though. It was filled with the smell of death and blood and she had to fight to urge to gag.

"Will," Xander hissed, eyes darting frantically about the room, "I don't like this."

"I'm not loving this either, Xan," she bit out without sparing him a glance.

"What is all this?" he wondered hesitantly, stepping away from the redhead and toward the markings on the floor.

"I don't know," Willow admitted grimly.

"You don't know?" he barked incredulously. "You're the one with all the magic here, Wills. How can you *not* know what this is?"

"I don't know every spell ever written, Xander," she shouted back, glaring at him over her shoulder. Her anger soon faded as her voice echoed off the barren walls. There went their hope for any sort of surprise attack. Not that there seemed to be anyone to attack. The cavern looked curiously deserted.

They stood stone still, startled by the light breeze that suddenly brushed past them, the air ruffling their hair and clothing just slightly. They still didn't move, but their eyes surveyed the room anxiously.

"There's a draft," Xander mumbled with a squeak. "How can there be a draft? We're underground."

"I-I don't know," Willow croaked, her throat closing up on her.

"There's not much you *do* know," chuckled a dark, distinctly male voice, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. "Is there?"

Xander stood straighter, searching the darkness for any sign of another person. But there was nothing to be seen. He looked anxiously from side to side and could see no one. "Come out!" he demanded, surprised by the ferocity in his own voice. It didn't betray the fear that was working its way through his system. "Who's there? Come on out and face us!"

A breathy, girlish giggle bounced off the walls, sending a chill up the redhead's spine. "Don't wanna." was the only reply, teasing and playful. Xander glanced nervously to Willow. How many people were down there? First a man, now a woman. It was all too disorienting.

"Come out here," ordered Willow, as firmly as she could, her eyes darkening and her voice deepening as her power began to fill her, "or I will make you come out. And trust me, you don't want that."

"Ah Wills," groaned an easily recognizable voice, causing both Xander and Willow's jaws to drop. "You're no fun anymore."

No footsteps could be heard, but a black boot stepped out into the light. Slowly a form could be seen as another foot moved into the light. Red leather pants could be seen; then a clingy black tank, hugging every curve as it should. Lightly tanned skin shimmered in the firelight, accented by long blonde hair, curling slightly at the end to look both dangerous and demure. A bright, big smile caught Willow's eye, one so familiar and yet not, something innately evil about that smile.

"But, to be honest there good buddy," sighed the blonde, arms crossed over her chest casually as she stood, feet shoulder's width apart nearly fifteen feet away from them, "you haven't been much fun for a long time." Willow's heart hammered in her chest at the sight. She prayed that her eyes were deceiving her, but by the astounded and frightened look on Xander's face, she knew that wasn't the case.

"The First." Willow murmured, not a question, just a simple acknowledgment. Buffy bowed her head and smiled gleefully.

The Slayer looked them over with a critical eye, smiling the entire time. "You've been a bit of a downer for as long as I remember, really. I mean, first you were moping about Oz. That got old fast," smirked Buffy. She moved slowly then, in a small circle around the pair, with a languid grace that not even the Slayer truly possessed, Willow and Xander following her form warily with their eyes. "And then you got hooked on black magic. Now that was interesting, but then you had to go and get caught by your friends. How disappointing. And you spent all that time, curled up on the bathroom floor, shaking with with-drawl, such a waste of time and talent."

"Leave her alone," interrupted Xander hoarsely.

"Now was I talking to you?" snapped Buffy, her pacing coming to a halt as she glowered at the brunette. When he failed to respond she smiled, "I didn't think so." With a satisfied nod, she resumed her movement. "So where were we? Oh yes! My favorite part! Your girlfriend, stuttering mess that she was, went and got herself shot. What a tragedy that was," she mock sighed. "And you just lost it! It was brilliant to watch!"

Willow shuffled nervously, finally breaking eye contact with the Slayer, too ashamed. Buffy smiled indulgently at the witch.

"You were the personification of black magic, the hair, the eyes," she recalled with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I have to say, it was a good look on you. But the veins were a little much, wouldn't you agree?" She stopped an arm's length away from the redhead, grinning in delight. "You killed that pathetic little pipsqueak, Warren. One of your finest moments if you ask me. Then took out the warlock. I think Rack was glad you were the one that was going to have the honor of killing him off. You really were his favorite, just a chip off the old block. You were doing so well too! I've never been more proud! You even sucked the magic right out of the watcher, nearly killed the man you thought of as a father! Bravo!"

The witch was shaking now and didn't bother to hide it. As much as she didn't want to listen, she couldn't force herself to tune it all out. There were no lies being spoken, and that was what hurt the most.

"And then," Buffy exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly, "You went for the big finale! There you were, dark and deadly, ready to end it all. To bring on the apocalypse to end all apocalypses! And you know, all I was thinking was that's my girl!"

Her bright smile turned into a dark frown as her gaze fell from Willow, landing on Xander. Her eyes were filled with disgust and loathing as she glared at the boy.

"But you screwed it all up," she growled, glowering at Xander. "Everything was going along beautifully, and then you had to show up and profess your undying love for your bestest buddy. You just *had* to make her see that she wasn't alone, to make her see reason," she spat out. "I never did like you. Too useless in my opinion, never had any potential. But I might have been wrong about you, Xand. I mean," she said sweetly, her voice innocent, "if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have a second chance."

"We killed you," Xander swore, taking an involuntary step back, moving closer to Willow. "We destroyed you."

"You cannot destroy me," growled Buffy, her _expression turning menacing. "I am and have always been. I cannot be killed because I cannot become corporeal. You weakened me boy, but you did not finish me!"

Willow glared angrily at the one who had taken the shape of one of her best friends and the First granted her a curious raised brow. Willow continued to glare and Buffy looked puzzled for a minute before looking down at herself and grinning madly.

"This bothers you doesn't it?" she smirked, running her hands across her midriff. "Seeing me like this? Like her?" When neither answered her, she merely smiled and stepped back, standing straight. "I could change if you like," she offered pleasantly. "I mean, I do owe you for bringing me back. It's the least I could do." She cocked her head to the side in contemplation, thinking for a moment. "How about Tara, hmmm? I know, technically she's not dead here, but she did die once before, in the real world. That counts after all."

"Do it and I'll kill you," the witch warned furiously.

"You could try," she smirked, shaking her head. "But you're right. That was in poor taste. There's always Anya, maybe Xan here would like another glimpse at the woman he loved?" Glancing at the boy, who nearly had tears in his eyes, Buffy smiled widely. She held up a hand to stave off the angry words Willow was about the throw at her, "I know, I know. I being mean, but hello? I *am* the First Evil," she reminded them with a roll of her eyes.

"There's always Spike," she considered, a devious glint in her eye. "He was fun to play with last time around. So easy to mess with his head. But then again, he did have a soul at the time," she murmured with a slight frown. "But you wouldn't like that either," Buffy grinned mischievously as she looked to the glowering redhead. "No, you wouldn't like that at all, would ya Wills?" Her voice was taunting. "Seems you've got a soft spot for our vamp, even though he has no soul to speak of. Curious."

Buffy's face lit up in triumph, "I know! How about a compromise?" Without another word, the body began to shift, limbs growing longer, taller, the hair darkening to a chocolate brown and shorter than before. The red leather pants gave way to black slacks, the black tank molding into a long sleeved, button down crimson shirt. Willow's face hardened, not thrilled at all with the First's choice in compromises. "What? You don't approve?"

The Slayer's perky, light voice had now lowered, more masculine, nearly a purr. "No," ground out Willow, "I don't approve."

"Oh come on," the First sighed, "it's just Angel. It's not like either one of you has any mushy feelings for the broody bastard. And I can assure you he doesn't give a damn about you. So you see, compromise," he said with finality.

"Why are you here?" Xander asked listlessly.

"I'm here because you brought me here," Angel grinned. "I still remember when your lot was down below the hell mouth, fighting my army and losing," he said, smiling at the memory before his _expression turned dark. "And then Spike, the traitorous lout, put on that amulet and destroyed everything. He didn't kill me, no one can, but all the power I had gained was gone. There was no way to retrieve it, to get it all back. It would have taken me centuries to build up another army like that, to get another chance to bring on the end of days."

"And that would have been horrible," snorted Xander.

"I agree," Angel hissed with a hard stare. "But then you, boy, became a weeping, whiny mess. 'I can't go on, not without her!' Blah, blah, blah. And you begged poor Will here to do a spell for you. And she caved, like she always does," he added with a disgusted look to the redhead. "Trouble was you didn't think your plan through. Your nifty little spell opened a door for me, restored me. You gave me the second chance I never thought I'd have. Gotta thank you for that, Xander."

"And Willow," he exclaimed with a wide smile, "I have you to thank for all the neat changes to the world! You both have made things so much easier for me this time around. Your little Scooby gang is no longer the tight knit group you once were. The Slayer and her pet vampire aren't sharing 'smoochies', as you put it," he spat. "It's all so fascinating really," he murmured, "makes me wish I were the one responsible for it all. Definitely a job well done."

"Wait," Willow interrupted him abruptly. "You *wish* you were responsible? But I thought-"

"I *told* you," Angel sighed, aggravated. "You two opened a door for me. Do pay attention sweetheart," he demanded. "But all these changes aren't my doing. I wasn't nearly powerful enough then, but if it was my work, I'd be damn proud. Everything is the same and yet so vastly different."

"The Powers did this?" she wondered, her voice barely above a whisper. It was filled with heartbreak at the thought the Powers were really responsible for the mess her life had become. Maybe this really was punishment for a spell she never should have cast.

Xander, hearing the utter sorrow in her voice, tightly grasped her hand once more in a show of support. Angel grimaced at the sickly sweet display.

"Yeah, yeah, the Powers did this," he snorted. "They are a vengeful lot, in case you missed it. I have a feeling you two are on their shit list."

"Fuck you," growled Willow, eyes no longer green, but a fathomless black. Her voice was deeper, harder, and the roots of her hair were melting into black.

"Now that's the Willow I've missed," Angel grinned broadly.

"Wills," Xander hissed, tugging sharply on her arm. Reluctantly her eyes left Angel, head whirling around to look at Xander. "Control yourself."

"Bah, control is overrated," dismissed Angel with a wave of his hand.

"Oh shut it!" shouted Xander, glaring daggers at Angel's form.

"Watch your mouth boy," Angel growled, eyes narrowing in warning. "I will not tolerate the likes you speaking to me like that."

"Oh, you'll tolerate it, alright," Xander countered, pulling Willow with him closer toward Angel who was standing threateningly at the foot of the stairs. "You'll tolerate it because you have no other choice. In case you forgot, you're just some ghosty, non-corporeal waste of space. You can't touch me, can't hurt me. The best you could do is sending some of your minions after me, and if memory serves me, you did that once already tonight and I'm still breathing."

Xander got closer, got into his face without touching him, as if he could. "We beat you before, sent you running back to hell with your tail between your legs, and we'll do it again. Let's go Wills."

The redhead didn't move and Xander chanced a glance over his shoulder to the witch. Even though he couldn't physically feel her power, he could see little sparks of magic crackling around her head. She was angry and scared and that was a deadly combination.

With one final glare at Angel, he gripped Willow's hand even tighter and pulled her forcefully up the stairs, walking straight through a seething Angel on the way up, suppressing the shiver it caused. He wanted to get Willow out of there before she finally lost it. Her control was tenuous at best and he was afraid of what she might do if she had to deal with anymore stress. The results could only be horrible.

And more than anything, Xander really didn't want veiny Willow to make an appearance ever again.

~Part: 29~

Xander was getting worried about Willow. Well, he was more than worried, but he couldn't think of a better word to describe what he was feeling, so worried it was. Ever since their confrontation with the First, the redhead had been too quiet. We're not talking about the occasional monosyllabic word every now and then. We're talking complete and utter silence. She hadn't muttered one damn word since they had climbed out of that cavern and it was scaring him.

They had walked back home, without saying a word to each other. The enormity of the situation seemed to close in on them, making it hard to think. Xander kept her hand in his own, walking maybe a step ahead of her, leading the way. Willow was in no shape to take charge. He idly considered that this was the first time since they had arrived back in the old Sunnydale that Willow was allowing herself to depend on someone. For as long as he remembered, she had been the one in charge, the one who took care of him. And now it was his turn to take care of her. He had to. He couldn't make it in this world without her.

The witch trudged into her house, immediately letting go of Xander's hand and brushing past the concerned brunette to the stairs. Xander paused at the foot of the stairs, debating silently whether or not to follow her. After a moment he decided it would be best to give her some time to herself. He would go make himself something to eat and when he was finished he would go up and check on her. Shuffling off to the kitchen, he left Willow to her thoughts.

Willow climbed the stairs, face drawn and pale. She entered her bedroom, absently throwing her house keys onto her desk with a clatter before moving to her balcony. She refrained from going outside, instead deciding just to stand at her glass doors, looking out into the deceptively peaceful night. Her gaze drifted upward, taking in the twinkling lights in the sky, not able to appreciate their beauty. On this night, the stars looked ordinary, plain and boring.

She wrapped her arms around her midsection, hugging herself. Her mind was racing even though her _expression did not convey her warring emotions. What if he wasn't lying? That thought terrified her more than anything. What if the First had been telling the truth? What if the Powers really had done this all? That didn't make things better in her mind; it only caused her to despair even more.

Xander didn't understand, couldn't understand her distress at the thought. But it was simple. If the First was truly responsible for everything that had gone wrong, then there was hope. Hope that the Powers would intervene; hope that things could change once more, this time for the better.

But if the First was merely along for the ride, if the Powers were the ones who decided to rewrite history, then what? Who did they have to turn to for help? No one, that's who, they would be on their own in this twisted, messed up world. An unbidden shiver worked its way up her spine and Willow shivered, feeling cold. When she was younger, what always kept her going, against even the most impossible odds, was her hope. They always had a chance at survival, at winning the battle, if they just had hope. What was she to rely on if her hope had vanished?

Minutes passed and she still remained at her post by her French doors, staring blankly outside. She heard Xander coming up the stairs, his lumbering footsteps loud in the otherwise silent house. Still she didn't move.

Xander appeared in her doorway, frowning as he spied her looking off into space. He was tempted to cross her bedroom, to wrap his arms around her, to tell her everything would be alright. But he wasn't sure if everything would be alright, and he couldn't bear to lie to Willow. So he stayed in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"Are you okay?" He nearly flinched at his own words. They sounded foolish to his ears but he couldn't take them back now.

Willow stilled, her back tense, before she glanced over her shoulder, holding his gaze for a long moment. "No."

Her answer was simple, to the point, and he knew, completely true. He wasn't okay, so how could she be okay? But at this point he was just searching for a way to get her to talk to him, to tell him exactly what was running through her mind now. "We'll get through this, you know. We always do," he tried to be reassuring, to show confidence he wasn't feeling. "We do this everyday practically, Wills. We go to battle, fight the forces of evil, and live to fight another day."

"Anya didn't." He didn't know he was capable of so many feelings at one time, but she proved him wrong with her last statement, uttered barely more than a whisper. His earlier fear, anxiety, and concern were pushed aside by the violent wave of pain at the mention of her name, nearly causing him to topple over.

Willow turned slowly on her heel; the look in her eyes frightened him. Her eyes weren't black, she wasn't pulsing with magic, but that sparkle of life that had always been there, that inexplicable optimism that lit up her face was gone. She didn't appear angry, or even resigned. She seemed stripped of all emotion, a shell.

"Wills." he muttered sorrowfully, not even sure how to continue; she didn't give him the chance.

"We don't always live to fight another day," the witch said tonelessly, now turned toward him. "You say we'll get through this, but you don't know. How could you possibly know? Tara didn't know she was going to die. Anya didn't know a bringer was going to slice her in two. We could be killed tomorrow and never see it coming. One day we're living and breathing, then the next." she trailed off, knowing she had made her point.

"Hold on to your naïve belief that somehow we will be saved," she spat, with uncharacteristic venom in her voice. "Keep clinging to your hope that we'll make it through. But I choose to live in reality. And the reality is, we're up against the most powerful evil in the world and the Powers, the good guys," she snorted with a sad shake of her head, "they're not on our side."

"You don't know that," he denied, taking a step closer to the girl whose body seemed to practically emit pain and sorrow.

The redhead looked him dead in the eye, her gaze both challenging and pleading. "Prove me wrong."

He wished he knew what to say to get through to her, but words escaped him. She had a point, a very good one, and he was at a loss for what to say. Willow merely looked on sadly, bowing her head with a faint smile at his failure to reply. Nodding to herself, she grabbed her house keys off her desk and headed for the door, but Xander's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Where are you going?" he asked softly, looking down at her with worried eyes. She gently pried his hand off her arm and stared at him, assessing him, before shrugging and giving him a strained smile.

"I need air." He took a step back, wordlessly acknowledging that he couldn't keep her there, as much as he might want to, and let her walk away from him. He watched as she listlessly descended the staircase, not even bothering to grab a jacket to stave off the chill of night before she was out the front door and gone from his view.

Xander moved to her bed, sitting on the edge with his elbows resting on his knees, head in hands. Things were spiraling out of control and he didn't know what to do. He was never the brains of the operation; he was never the go-to guy. He had no idea how to handle situations like this. He wasn't a Champion.

His head shot up, an idea that both pleased and disappointed him, coming to him suddenly. They needed help, and unfortunately, he knew exactly who to turn to.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow had been wandering for awhile. Normally taking a nighttime stroll in the hell mouth would get you killed, but the demonic population of Sunnydale was avoiding her tonight. They could tell she was volatile and dangerous and if they picked a fight with her, they probably wouldn't survive it. Not many, people or demons, have the balls to mess with a pissed off witch.

She didn't even question her judgment when she found herself outside Willy's. Not missing a beat, she pushed open the door to the dingy bar, her lithe form illuminated in the doorway by the low light coming from inside.

Talking ceased for a moment as everyone, from vampires, to some horned demon she had never even seen before in her life, all turned to stare at the sight of some mortal girl in this place. The novelty wore off soon enough when she ignored their stares and headed straight for the bar.

Willy was nervously polishing glasses when she stalked toward him, taking a seat on one of the vacant stools and looking up at the shifty bartender with a bored _expression.

"What can I do for ya, doll-face? Slayer looking for information, couldn't come herself?" Willy asked anxiously, nearly shouting 'slayer' so that his patrons knew to be on their best behavior. He couldn't have his clientele be killed off. Then where would he get his money?

"I need a drink," she said, cocking her head to the side when he didn't move a muscle. "Something with alcohol-lots of alcohol." she muttered. The longer she sat there, the better a drink sounded. Something to get her mind off her troubles.

"Sorry sweetheart," Willy chuckled, an unpleasant nasally sound. "I think you're too young for that. Wouldn't be legal and all."

Willow, too tired and aggravated to give a damn, let her eyes turn to an inky black, glaring at the now uncomfortable bartender. "Now, Willy."

"Right," he stammered, eager to do as she said, "anything you say, darlin'. Anything specific?" She gave him an incredulous glance and he laughed nervously. "Okay, bartender's choice." He bent over, looking through all the bottles he was storing under the bar in a rush.

"Now that's not nice," sneered a cocky voice from behind her. Willow's shoulders tensed but she refrained from turning around, hoping if she ignored him he would just go away. "Threatening the poor bloke, you'll give the nit a bloody heart attack and then where would all us demons go for a drink?"

She tapped her fingers on the wood of the bar, waiting for Willy to finish up down there. He was taking forever. She heard a rustle of clothing as Spike moved to sit in the empty seat beside her, obviously a little annoyed as she continued to ignore him.

"What crawled up your arse tonight?" he snarled, the growl in his normally calm and cool voice causing her to look at him. He was pissed, and seemed to be favoring his back, probably from when she threw him into the tree earlier that night. "We were having a nice little chat, and then you're bloody well magically heaving me across the sodding yard!" Spike barked, doing his best to keep his voice hushed so as not to attract unwanted attention. "Now you come waltzing into a demon bar and making demands. Are we Little-Miss-Mood-swings tonight?"

With a huff, Willow pushed her stool away from the bar, already tired of his 'company'. "Not now, Spike," she bit out as she stood, pushing past the mildly surprised vampire and toward the exit. She didn't feel like waiting for Willy to get his act together and do his job anymore.

She was out the door in the blink of an eye, back in the alleyway in front of Willy's. She turned to her left, heading out the back way, into the more shadowed area. That direction may have seemed a little creepy, but at least she avoided the occasional demon coming down the other direction in search of the bar.

Someone was running to catch up with her and she rolled her eyes. He never knew when to just leave someone be. Instead he had to prod and pry and she had to resist the urge just to stake him and be done with it.

Spinning around on her heel, she caught sight of an angry Spike heading straight for her. She wasn't bothered by his threatening demeanor, instead she simply waited for him, daintily crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head to the side.

"You have a lot of bloody nerve!" he barked, hands clenched at his side as he met up with her. She met his hard gaze serenely and he couldn't hold back his growl. "You're a right stubborn bitch sometimes, you know that?!"

"I've been told," she replied calmly, staring at him blankly.

"What the hell is wrong with you, you daft bint?" he demanded, shaking his head. "What happened? One minute we were having what people might actually consider a civil conversation, and then you're throwing blokes across yards and storming off like a bleeding loony! And what is with the attitude, love? 'Cause I've got to tell you, it's not very attractive."

"It's none of your business, Spike," Willow said firmly, her jaw clenched. His very presence irritated her. She just wanted to be alone, left to wallow in her misery on her own. Now he wouldn't stop badgering her. "Go home."

With that, she turned her back on him and started to walk off once more. She was taken by surprise when he grabbed her harshly by the elbow and slammed her back against the brick wall, sending a wave of pain through her body. Willow closed her eyes for a second; trying to will away the sudden jolt of pain and fear. There were times when she forgot that this Spike didn't have a chip and wasn't afraid to hurt her.

His hands now had a firm purchase on her shoulders, holding her steady as he glared down at her, game face in place, teeth bared. "Watch your mouth, pet. Don't even think about giving me orders. I'm not your bloody lapdog, Xapper," he growled in warning.

"Shut up!" she snapped and he smirked. Rarely did she lose her cool like this, it was fun to watch. Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes blazing. She was truly beautiful in anger.

"What was that, pet?" he mocked her, leaning in a bit closer and hearing her heartbeat speed up slightly as his teeth got closer and closer to her neck. She glared up at him and tried to kick him in the shin, but her movement was hampered by his hold on her. He growled in anger and pressed her harder up against the wall so that they were now eye to eye. Amber met green and he found himself a bit entranced by the emotion in her gaze. There was anger, fear, fury, panic, and emptiness. He recognized that feeling, it was what he felt since he came to this town, what he felt since he met her. He wondered what put it there. He wondered what could make it go away.

"I will burn you to a crisp if you don't let me go, you stupid, blood-sucking, arrogant, moron-" her voice, now high-pitched both from anger and alarm, was cut off suddenly by his demanding lips. He gave her no choice but to respond to his harsh kiss and soon she was lost in the sensation of his cool mouth and body as he pressed against her. He wasn't sure why he was doing this. There was no doubt that she was gorgeous, but tonight was the first time she looked vulnerable, and it called to him. They were so different, and yet they shared the same pain, the same fears. And Spike simply acted on his impulse.

She was brought back to startling reality when she felt a sudden flash of pain. She pushed him away from her as hard as she could and Spike stumbled, obviously a bit taken aback by his own actions.

Her fingers went to her still tingling lips and came away with a streak of blood. Her lip was cut, bleeding, and she took an involuntary step back. She looked up to Spike, seeing a smudge of red at the corner of his mouth, blood. Her blood. Seeing where her gaze had landed, he wiped his mouth with his thumb, surprised to see the smear of blood. He took a step back, remembering he was still wearing his game face.

Spike shook his head, his demonic features sliding away, leaving him in his handsome human façade. They stared at each other for a long minute, both unsure what to do or say next. A loud bang was heard as the door to Willy's was thrown open, two vampires tumbling out into the street, fighting each other drunkenly, their shouts and snarls breaking the two out of their trance.

They didn't wait a beat, each turning in the opposite direction and walking away as quickly as they possibly could, unable and unwilling to comprehend what the hell just happened.

Willow decided it was best just to go straight home, no detours or patrols on her way. She just wanted to be in the safety of her house. Her day had been long, arduous, and too strange for words. She just couldn't take anymore surprises today.

~~~~~~~~~~

Xander raised his hand to knock, hesitating just before he rapped on the wooden door, and then finally just dropping his hand entirely. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to ask him for help, but he had no other ideas. They needed help and he was the only one he could think to turn to.

With a heavy sigh, he resolved to finally get it over with and just knock. He raised his hand again but didn't even get the chance to knock as the door was thrown open.

"What do you want?" snarled Angel. He hated having visitors, and he really hated this visitor in particular.

"Can I come in?" Xander asked, as politely as he could muster, causing Angel to raise a reluctantly curious eyebrow. "Please.we need to talk."

At the obvious pleading in his voice, Angel found himself grudgingly intrigued. He opened his front door a little wider and stepped aside to let Xander in. Shutting the door behind him, he took a seat directly across from the nervous boy and waited for him to speak. This was sure to be an interesting night.

~Part: 30~

Angel waited, growing more and more annoyed as Xander just sat there. The boy looked like he was having a rather serious debate with himself, but Angel wasn't happy to be ignored. After all, Xander had come to him and now he was just sitting there. It just confirmed his theory that Alexander Harris was a big waste of space.

"Are you planning on talking to me anytime soon, or should I be settling in for a long night?" the vampire sneered. Xander looked up, glaring at Angel contemptuously before shaking his head. He was here to ask for his help, it wouldn't do to insult the broody idiot.

"Look," Xander sighed, leveling Angel with a serious face, "let's just get this straight. I don't like you. You don't like me. I wouldn't be here if this wasn't serious. And I'm talking end-of-the-world, we're-all-going-to-hell-in-a-hand-basket serious. Understand?"

"Got it," snapped Angel, sitting back in his armchair, the leather creaking under his weight. "Now start talking before I just get bored and throw you out."

"You've been dying, figuratively," Xander smirked to himself, "to know what Willow and I have been up to. To know all our deepest, darkest secrets, isn't that right Deadboy?"

Angel glared at the hated nickname but settled for nodding, "Yeah."

"Well," Xander grinned, the expression without humor, "then tonight's your lucky night. I'm in the mood to share. But I've got some ground rules before we get to it."

"All right," Angel acknowledged and Xander heard the amusement in his voice. He thought he was amusing. Dumb ass.

"Willow doesn't know I'm here," Xander informed him, causing Angel's eyes to widen in surprise. The vampire's expression turned neutral soon enough as he did his best to hide his surprise. Xander did nothing without Willow, so already this had him intrigued. "Actually," amended the younger brunette with a tired shrug, "I'm pretty sure Wills is having a nervous breakdown right now, so it's not like I could consult her on this, but that's not the point. The point is this stays between us unless I say otherwise."

Angel nodded slowly and signaled for him to continue. "And lastly," Xander said resignedly, "what I'm about to tell you may sound crazy, truthfully there are some days I can't wrap my head around it, but it's the truth. I'm not making with the funny here. You have to take everything I tell you totally seriously, or this will get us nowhere. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yeah," Angel grunted, "get on with it."

"I did something stupid." Xander stopped his oncoming monologue at Angel's bark of laughter, shooting the vampire a look of death. Angel tried his best to look mildly apologetic as he schooled his face into a dire expression.

"Like I was saying," the boy bit out, "I did something stupid a few months ago. Wills, she's a mighty powerful Wicca, you know. And, we-I was going through a really hard time. I asked her to do a spell for me, to make things better. Big mistake there," he muttered, disgruntled.

Xander looked up and the expression on the boy's face caught Angel off guard. The younger brunette was solemn, grave. Unconsciously the vampire sat up a little straighter, as if finally grasping the seriousness of the situation. The boy gave him a strained smile, one lacking in humor or malice, it was as if he was simply attempting to show some sort of feeling when, at the moment, he was too overwhelmed to feel. "I-we made a mistake," Xander amended, shaking his head and sighing deeply. "We changed the world."

~~~~~~~~~~

Willow looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, studying her features intently. After her episode with Spike outside of Willy's, she had sped home, no longer in the mood to traipse around the hell mouth all night long. Her earlier pain and confusion had not abated; instead it had only grown as the night went on. Her walk home was a blur, her mind too focused on the First and Spike to concentrate on the scenery. In the back of her mind, she registered surprise when she noticed that Xander was not at home any longer, but she didn't dwell on it. If Xander was anything like her, he probably needed some fresh air and some time to think too. Besides, Xander could take care of himself. She was more worried about her own well being at the moment.

Her reflection stared back at her listlessly. Her normally vibrant green eyes were glazed, both from exhaustion and an emotion she couldn't name. It wasn't fear; she wasn't scared, not really. She was confused, but it was more than that. Everything, her entire life seemed to be spiraling out of control and she was at a loss on how to stop it. She felt as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and soon she would come toppling down from the pressure. She knew Xander was worried about her, that she might just be losing it. And truthfully, she shared his same fears. She was used to being the strong one, the dependable, brainy one. But normally she had Buffy, Giles, and even Angel to count on for support. But this time, she only really had Xander. Buffy would help, she trusted her, considered her a friend, but Giles was still so wary of her, and she wouldn't hold her breath waiting for Angel to come rushing to her aid. The First was back and she and Xander were at a loss as to how to deal. All she knew was that the First needed to be taken care of, but how she wasn't sure.

As if things weren't complicated enough between fractured relationships with former friends and the return of an old enemy, there was Spike. The redhead took in the flush of her face, the puffiness and slight bruising on her lips, and let out a shaky sigh.

She turned on the faucet of her bathroom sink, collecting the cool water in the palms of her hands before bending down at the waist slightly and splashing it on her face, the shock of the cold causing an involuntary shiver to work its way down her spine. She blindly reached to her right for a hand towel, blotting her dripping face. She tossed the cloth to the side and stared blankly at her now splotchy face, losing herself in her thoughts.

Spike had been a problem ever since he arrived in the new and not-so-improved Sunnydale. They fought, and yelled, and swore, and hurt each other over and over, mostly with their words. Their fights were borne of confusion and anger, and she could deal with that. She expected anger from Spike. He was a vampire after all. But a kiss? That was something she never saw coming. Call her naïve, or innocent, as untrue as that might be, but she never envisioned their verbal sparring to lead to a slightly violent make-out session in a dark alley. She just wasn't that kind of girl, at least not under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, normal was not something she had experienced much of since she met Buffy.

There were dark circles under her eyes, a severe contrast to the paleness of her skin. Willow knew she looked terrible. This had to have been one of the longest days of her life and it still wasn't over yet. Shaking her head absently, the witch stepped away from the sink, turning her back to the mirror that seemed to only reflect her sadness and desperation, and shuffled toward her bedroom.

The lights in her room were all turned off, the moonlight shining in from her French doors illuminating her bedroom in a misty blue. Her covers were pulled back, still messy from when she woke this morning. She never did get around to making her bed. Lately she hadn't had the energy or time for such mundane chores. Her desk sat a few feet away, her trusty laptop closed, having not been opened in nearly four days.

With as little noise as possible she searched her dresser drawers for a pair of loose cotton pajama pants and a white tank top, changing silently. Her eyes drifted to the alarm clock at her bedside, the digital clock flashing two in the morning in bright red. The witch blinked, rubbing her tired eyes, her movements sluggish and halfhearted.

After a moment's hesitation she took a step forward towards her French doors, eyes gazing out into the dark and inky black of the night sky. Her gaze was contemplative as she reached her destination, standing almost against the cool glass, her right hand gripping the heavy, thick curtains that lay to the side.

It looked peaceful out there, quiet, deceptively calm. The crickets chirped, stars twinkled, a light breeze whistled through the trees. But it wasn't peaceful; there was nothing calm about the outside world. Night wasn't safe. Demons wandered the streets, non-corporeal evils lurked in caves and caverns lying in wait, vampires searched for prey. It didn't matter how beautiful the sky looked, lit up with stars, the moon, full and bright, shining. Outside there lurked evil and there was no escaping it. Most Sunnydale citizens simply chose to remain ignorant, to ignore the threat that waited just out their front doors when the sun went down.

Her grip tightened on the coarse fabric. With a swift tug, Willow pulled the drapery loose, the curtain swinging a little before coming to settle over the glass and wood of the French doors, bathing the room in black. She would do what everyone else in this miserable town did. She would shut out the night, pretend that there weren't dangerous things lurking just beyond the flimsy barrier of her door, just for tonight. She just needed one night of peace, one night to forget all the troubles that plagued her.

Feeling her way around her room, instinctually knowing where most of everything was, she climbed into bed, slipping under the covers, tucking them protectively up to her chin, much as she did when she was a child. Her eyes fluttered shut as she finally let sleep overcome her. Tonight she would sleep, get much needed rest. And then tomorrow she would wake and be the strong one again. She would find a way to fix this mess. She had to.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel hadn't said anything, and it was starting to bug Xander. The younger man had done something he swore he would never do. He came to Angel for help, voluntarily. He had let the vampire in on all the secrets that he and Willow had been hiding, something the redhead might kill him for, and Angel was just sitting there like a damn bump on a log.

The dark vampire stood suddenly and Xander blushed sheepishly when he jumped, a little startled. Angel started pacing the floor, footsteps heavy on the wood floor. He paused mid-step, glancing to his right at Xander, eyes narrowed. He was studying him, trying to discern whether or not he was indeed telling the truth. His story had been absurd, but not impossible. They lived on the hell mouth after all, nothing was impossible.

"I believe you," Angel finally admitted gruffly. Xander rolled his eyes and let his head drop, his hand coming up to rub the back of his aching neck.

"Good," he muttered, annoyed that it had taken Angel that long to spit it out.

"And you're right, you are stupid," snapped Angel, turning on his heel to glare at the boy.

"Hey!" Xander glowered, "I said I *did* something stupid, not that I *am* stupid!"

"Whatever," snorted the vampire, dismissively. "You're an idiot for wanting to do that spell," Angel nearly growled. Xander stood angrily, not in the mood to be lectured. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Angel beat him to the punch. "And Willow is a fool for doing it."

"Fuck you." Angel's eyes widened in mild surprise at Xander's uncharacteristically harsh language and the boy took a threatening step toward him. "You can say what you want, make your presumptions. I know what we did was stupid and rash. But you weren't there. You don't know the hell we went through, all the people we lost. You wanna know where you were when Buffy, the love of your life, was fighting the mother of all evils, hmmm? You were in Los Angeles, in a nice, sun-proof office, relaxing in the lap of luxury."

Angel's expression went blank, his brown eyes became hard, and his mouth opened to deny his charge. He would never do that, leave Buffy to fight, to possibly die, without him by her side. Xander didn't give him the chance to argue his case.

"Some big, strapping hero you were," he sneered, trying his best to look down on the vampire, which was difficult considering their considerable height difference. "You have no right to judge me, us. You know you would have done the same thing if Buffy had died. If you had the chance to go back, maybe change things for the better, be with the woman you love again, you would do it. You wouldn't even think twice. So say we did something stupid, say we weren't in the right state of mind, but don't call me an idiot. And don't even think about calling Willow a fool. She did this because she wanted to help me. She did this out of love. And if you were in her shoes, if you had the power, you would do the same damn thing."

For once he truly had nothing to say to the boy. There were no snide comments on the tip of his tongue, no biting words. If anything, he felt a burgeoning respect for the young man. Xander had been right, after all. If their positions had been reversed, if he had lost Buffy, he would have moved Heaven and Hell to get her back.

"What is it you expect from me?" Angel finally asked; his voice soft but deep, earnest but wary. "What am I supposed to do? I don't know anything about time travel or anything like that."

"Nothing can be done about the changes that have happened to the timeline," Xander shrugged, taking a step back from Angel. "That's not why I came here. As far I know, the changes are permanent. We need your help with the First."

"But, I-don't know-" Angel struggled for a response, feeling a little at a loss for words.

"You're a Champion for the Powers That Be," Xander sighed heavily. "That's why I came to you. I don't have a clue how to stop the First. Last time it took an army of slayers-in-training, a whopper of a spell, a vamp with a nifty amulet, and some mystical scythe just to bury this thing in a crater formerly known as Sunnydale, California."

"We can't do this by ourselves," Angel pointed out dryly. "One vampire and a boy.you don't even have any real power. We wouldn't stand a chance against the First. And in case you didn't know, I'm sure as hell not dying to save your ass, Harris."

"You say the sweetest things Deadboy," Xander replied drolly. "So what's your bright idea?"

"We have to tell Giles and Buffy, after that, who knows?" Xander clenched his eyelids shut, letting out a harsh breath. He knew Angel was right, but he really wasn't looking forward to telling Buffy and Giles all about their little foray into the past. Buffy would probably react badly. And Giles? He could practically see the Englishman furiously polishing his glasses and clucking his tongue already.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly. He opened his eyes, regarding Angel for a second before running a hand through his hair and glancing at his watch. It was almost three in the morning. He had to get home soon; he didn't want Willow to worry about his whereabouts. "I'm gonna go, leave you to your.beauty sleep," he snorted as he headed for the door.

He had taken a step outside before he stopped, glancing over his shoulder to the vampire who was watching him with a bored expression, face pinched. "And Angel?" he added, the vampire giving the barest of nods as he waited for him to continue. Xander swallowed deeply, having to force himself to utter the next words, as painful as it was, and it needed to be said. "Thanks, for believing me."

"Don't mention it," the darker man dismissed with a light glare and a wave of his hand. "I mean it," he stressed, "don't mention it. I don't want anyone thinking I actually like you, that we're friends."

"Believe me," muttered Xander as he continued on his way, moving to close the door behind him, "I sure as hell don't want anyone thinking we're friends either. I have standards, you know." With one last roll of his eyes, he was gone.

Angel glared at his now closed front door, cursing what he got himself into. This situation was bad. It was only made worse with the knowledge that he would have to work side by side with Xander Harris.

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