Love is a Mystery

Author: Kat, a.k.a. KallieRose

Parts: 11 - 22 (end)

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~Part: 11~

It was a little past noon before Willow climbed sleepily out of bed.  The noise that had awakened her belonged to Buffy.  She could hear her friend using the hairdryer, and the whir of that device had brought her out of a delicious dream involving Spike, whipped cream, and a pair of velvet-lined handcuffs.

'Spike,' she thought, the word echoing through her mind.  She thought back to the previous evening, still not believing that she had had the nerve to confess her feelings to him.  Even more surprising to her was the fact that he had admitted that he felt something for her.  Her mind quickly drifted towards panic mode, thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong with the relationship, but she steered it back towards the land of reality.  She was working really hard to focus on the real and not allow herself to dwell on the 'what-ifs'.  It was just harder to do that some days than others.

Willow knew that she needed to talk to Buffy about her budding relationship with Spike.  Sure, he was a vampire, and Buffy was a slayer, and the two were about as opposite as day and night, but she was hoping that she could convince Buffy that this relationship was important to her, and that her friend would at least accept it, if not support her in her choice.  No, she considered, perhaps support was too much to ask for, at least right now.  But acceptance, that was not too much to ask, she hoped

The noise of the hairdryer had stopped, and Willow decided to make her move.  "Buffy," she called softly as she knocked on the door.

The door opened, and Willow looked cheerfully into her friend's sleepy eyes.  Buffy had never been much of a morning person, and last night she had twisted and turned most of the night, trying desperately to think of some solution to the 'train wreck just waiting to happen', which was how she thought of the new relationship between Willow and Spike.

"Morning, Willow," she mumbled drowsily, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for the coming day.  Usually a shower and some quality time in front of the mirror would allow her to dredge up some energy and face the others as her usual chipper self.  But today that just didn't seem to be working.

"Afternoon," the redhead corrected with a smile.  She knew that Buffy was never at her most lucid shortly after waking, and she thought that maybe that would be a good thing.  They could have this discussion before Buffy had a chance to put her defenses up.

"So, about last night," she began.  "I hope you can be happy for me and for Spike.  We really do care about each other???"

"Sorry, Willow, but that bleach blond menace cares about nothing except where his next meal comes from," Buffy said harshly, brushing her hair with long, angry strokes.

Okay, Willow thought bitterly, maybe defenseless-Buffy also equals tactless and judgmental-Buffy.  No, no, that's not fair, she told herself.  She's still going through a lot of stuff, remember?  She needs my support and my understanding.  Maybe I shouldn't have brought all this up right now.  The timing just wasn't right.

On the other hand, she couldn't let Buffy's accusation go unchallenged.  "That may have been true at one time, I admit it, but it's not true now and you know it.  He's helped us, and he hasn't had to.  He could have gotten that chip out, but he chose not to.  He could have left, but he chose not to do that either.  Maybe he doesn't have a soul, but he's got a heart, and he feels things and he loves and???"

"Sorry, Willow, but I'm not going to stand here and listen to you sing his praises.  He's a killer.  He'll always be a killer.  Just because he's not killing right this minute doesn't mean that he won't in the future.  What if that chip breaks or malfunctions?  And it will, sooner or later.  I promise you, the minute it does, he'll be killing left and right without a care for your feelings at all. "

"Sorry Buffy, but you're wrong on this one." Willow sighed.  Perhaps it was just too soon to talk to her about this.  They both needed time, she realized.  "Um, I guess I'll wait for you to be done in here.  Let me know when you're finished, okay?"

Buffy shrugged.  "You're welcome to it," she said calmly, leaving the bathroom and closing the door to her room behind her.

That *so* didn't go the way I wanted it to, Willow thought sadly.

~~~*~~~

Her morning routine finished, Willow made her way to the kitchen and the comfort of a quick sandwich, before heading into the living room to see what everyone else was up to.  Buffy seemed to be watching a movie on the TV, her face a sullen mask which she turned briefly to Willow upon her entrance.  Angel and Fred were at the card table with Spike, and seemed involved in some sort of animated discussion about portals and demon dimensions.

Xander and Anya had not yet made an appearance, apparently, which surprised the redhead slightly.  Anya tended to sleep in late whenever she could, but usually Xander was up fairly early, even with the strange hours that they all seemed to be keeping lately.

Suddenly a sharp scream pierced the air, and another.  It was Anya, she realized, as the screams seemed to blend together into one long hysterical tone.  As a group, they all headed for the stairway, following the ex-demon's voice to the source of her troubles.

Buffy was the first to reach her, and what she saw from the doorway of the couple's room made her blood run cold.  Because there, lying on the bed that Anya had so recently vacated, was the dull, lifeless body of Xander Harris.

Anya had stopped screaming now, and had pulled the boy's unmoving form into her arms, cradling his head and whispering soft words to his dead ears.  Buffy attempted to come closer, but a growl and a flash of hostile eyes from Anya made her think better of it.

"Anya," Fred whispered softly, coming in and *very* slowly edging closer to the bed, "What happened?"

Perhaps it was the tone of her voice, or the way that she moved, but Anya didn't seem as threatened by Fred as she had by Buffy.  She allowed the brunette to approach her, her eyes locked onto her face as if afraid to look away.  "I woke up," she said, choking on the words, "And he was d???de???gone."  Another sob wracked her body, and finally she allowed Fred to touch her and comfort her.

The brunette drew Anya away from Xander's body until they were both standing in the middle of the room.  She wrapped her soft arms around the devastated woman and spoke softly to her, running a gentle hand over her hair and trying her best to calm the bereft woman.

"He was like this when you woke up?"

Anya simply nodded.  The usually loquacious woman no longer seemed capable of forming even the simplest of words.

"You didn't hear anything?" Angel asked, still standing with the others in the doorway.

"Of course she didn't," Fred remonstrated, thinking the question rather stupid.  "If she had, she would have done something, wouldn't you, Anya?"

The woman sniffled slightly, before turning tear-filled eyes to Angel and nodding.

"Come on, Anya, let's get you out of here," Fred commanded in that still soft, still quiet voice of hers.  The two women made their way down the stairway and soon all the others could hear was the occasional murmured voice coming from the living room.

Angel, Spike, Buffy and Willow all moved slowly into the room, the two vampires looking over the body with curiosity.  The women, on the other hand, were stunned.  Willow was especially hard-hit.  She looked at the body of her lifelong friend, and all she could see was the boy that had given her a yellow crayon; her friend and her protector through school, and beyond.  He had given her her first dancing lesson; together they had learned how to ride bikes.  She was to have been his best man at his wedding to Anya.  But now that would never happen, she realized, shaking her head sadly.

"Xander," she cried softly, as if the words and her tears would somehow make things right.

Spike was immediately at her side, and she threw herself into his arms, soaking his shirt with her tears and touching his long-dead heart with her cries.  "Let's get you somewhere quiet, luv," he said, attempting to pull her out of the room.  Her body moved with his, but her eyes stayed riveted on Xander's form until they had left the room, and a dark, solid wall made it impossible.

Angel looked at Buffy speculatively. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked warily.

"I'm thinking that his neck's been broken," she snapped back, wishing that she had someone to hold her like Willow did.  Not that she felt that way about Angel anymore, but still, it would have been nice if he had even offered, she thought.

Angel nodded, thinking about how to phrase the next sentence.  But Buffy beat him to it.  "Makes me wonder now if Giles' death wasn't quite so accidental," she remarked casually, but the dark vampire could see the quickly hidden pain that lurked behind her eyes.  She wasn't quite as tough as she'd like everyone to think, he knew.

~~~*~~~

Xander was gone.  Xander was gone.  Xander was gone.  The words ran through her head at breakneck speed, and each time they tore her heart just a little bit more.  Images of her life-long friend flowed behind Willow's closed eyes, as she and Anya held each other's sobbing bodies.  First there was 'broken yellow crayon' Xander.  Then there was 'shot down by Cordelia' Xander.  Followed quickly by 'broom-closet Xander.'  Then there was that brief, unfortunate incident with the fluking and Cordelia and Oz catching them.  Okay, maybe that memory wasn't such a happy one.  She quickly replaced it with Xander and the look of excitement on his face as he told them he had proposed to Anya.

They had had their entire adult life ahead of them, and now it was over.  Willow tried to reign in her out-of-control emotions, pulling away to look at the other woman.  "I'm so sorry, Anya," she whispered, taking in the look of absolute anguish on her friend's face.  "If there was anything, *anything* I could do to bring him back, I would."

Anya sniffled slightly, staring back at the redhead with red-rimmed eyes.  "I know, Willow.  I know.  You loved him almost as much as I did," she acknowledged sadly.

The ex-demon stopped for a moment, wiping a stray tear from her eye before she continued.  "We talked about this yesterday, you know," she admitted.  Willow looked at her in puzzlement, and Anya elaborated.  "About Giles, and how his death might not have been an accident."

Willow looked even more confused, so Anya spelled it out to her in harsh words, wondering how anyone could be that na??ve.  "We all assumed that because nobody else was on the island, Giles' death must have been an accident.  We ignored the fact that there was another possibility."  The last sentence came out in a rushed whisper:  "It could have been one of us."

Looking into Anya's eyes, Willow realized that the woman was serious.  "B???but it couldn't have been.  I mean, none of us would do that.  Anya," she said insistently, then shook her head. "No, I can't believe it.  I *won't* believe it."  Her movements became more agitated as she considered the possibility briefly, before rejecting it again.  "No," she simply said.

Anya shook her head sadly at her friend's display.  The poor thing really *was* that na??ve, she realized.  "I've been around a lot longer than you have, Willow.  I've seen friends do things to each other that would make you sick with disgust.  Heck, more often than not, I've been the one that they've called on to wreak their vengeance," she added, a small sliver of pride creeping into her voice.

She sighed again.  "Even if you won't believe me, just be careful, okay?"

Willow nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on Anya's face.  She still didn't believe what Anya had told her, but telling her that she would be careful would cost her nothing, and might make the other woman feel better.

"I have a feeling that this is far from over???"

~Part: 12~

Their service for Xander was a somber affair.  They buried him beside Giles later that evening, the two vampires once again doing the work while the women looked on in saddened silence.  Buffy took turns between holding a sobbing Anya, and shooting glares at Willow and Spike, both of whom she seemed to hold responsible for, well, something.  She also seemed to shy away from Angel and Fred, who stood together, the tragedy seeming to somehow bring them closer as well.

~~~*~~~

Later, after the final words were said, they all gathered in the living room.  Spike thought back to a couple of days before, when he and Xander had happily engaged in a spot of computer-animated violence.  Who could have guessed that things would go so badly, so quickly?  This group had killed thousands of vampires, and stopped countless apocalypses, but now the group was being dismantled one by one, and he would give just about anything to figure out how and why.

Not that he cared too much what happened to the slayer, really.  Actually, he didn???t give a damn what happened to the bitch.  And he could envision a world without Anya or Fred with a slight twinge of regret, but nothing more.  But his Willow was at risk too, and that frightened him.  Very little frightened him these days, but that did.  Their relationship, if you could call something so new and tenuous a relationship, had such promise for the future.  For eternity.  But if she died now, so did any chance of their happiness.

He shook such deep thoughts from his head, and concentrated on the young woman sitting beside him.  She had been quiet and withdrawn all day, seeking him physically and touching him as often as she could.  She seemed to derive comfort from the casual contact, almost as if she needed to reassure herself that he was still there.  That was fine with Spike.  The feel of her warm hand on his arm, or the press of her soft thighs next to his, all these things made him happy, and seemed to make her misery easier to bear.  If he could provide solace for her, he was more than willing to do that.

Angel stood, walking slowly to stand before the assembled group.  "We need to talk," he told them solemnly.  Looking around, he saw that all eyes were on him.  Even Buffy seemed to have stopped shooting glares at Spike, and was giving him her full attention.

He began speaking quietly, trying to be considerate of the pain that the others were feeling.  He had never been all that fond of Xander, probably because the boy had always been so jealous of his relationship with Buffy.  Well, and the Angelus incident certainly hadn't helped to cement a bond of friendship between them.

"As you probably know by now, Xander had a broken neck," he began.  Anya seemed to shrink in upon herself, her eyes turning down.  Buffy held Anya's hands and shared some of her strength with the ex-demon.  After a moment, Anya nodded her thanks to Buffy, and looked up again at Angel.

The dark vampire swept the room with his eyes, watching as Willow turned and buried her head in Spike's chest, as the younger man ran a gentle hand through her hair and whispered quiet words of comfort.  Finally her tear-streaked face turned towards him once again.

"I'm sorry, Angel," she said softly, "Please continue.  I promise, I'll be strong."

He stood uncertainly, not sure how to say what he needed to say next.  He didn't want to cause them any further pain, but something dangerous was going on here, and they needed to understand that.

"I know it's hard, but we need to figure out who's responsible for Xander's death, and for Giles' death as well.  Something, or someone, lured us out here, and one by one, they're killing us."  Several eyes looked back at him with understanding.  They had already figured out the danger they were facing, and although his bald statement of it was frightening, it wasn't a surprise.

"Are we-are we sure that there's nobody else here?" Fred asked quietly.  She didn't know these people well, but something inside told her that none of them was capable of doing anything like this.  Sure, maybe they were physically capable, but she didn't see the darkness of soul that would be needed to kill someone the way that these two men had been killed.

"Nope, nobody is here but us," Buffy insisted.  "We searched thoroughly."  She stopped for a moment, shooting Spike a slightly hostile look before continuing.  "Besides, wouldn't you demon-types have heard an extra heartbeat or smelled someone else, if there was anyone else to see or smell?"  She looked back and forth at the two vampires, who hesitated a moment before nodding their heads in confirmation.

"Nobody here but us chickens," Spike said softly.  "Or sitting ducks," he added uneasily.

"So which one of you is doing this?" Buffy asked harshly, standing up and looking at Angel and Spike accusingly.  "Because if I have to, I'll stake you both."

"Buffy-" Angel began, stunned and stung by her allegation.  He held his hand out in an attempt to placate her.

Buffy stepped away from him quickly, fear and distrust in her eyes.  "Get away from me!  I don't know you anymore."

Angel took a step back, hurt and shocked by her reaction.  "Buffy," he said softly, trying to make eye contact in an effort to convince her of his sincerity.  "I would never hurt you.  You know that.  You're upset right now, but when you calm down, you'll realize that."

"Either that, or I'll be dead," she shot back, fear making her voice shake slightly.  She looked back at Anya, Fred and Willow, directing her next words at them.  "Souls disappear, and chips malfunction.  Remember that."  Then she whirled away from them, her hair flying out behind her as she ran from the room.  Shortly they heard her footsteps in the hall, and then the bang of the front door as she left the house.

"Over-react much?" Spike mocked her quietly to the silent room, and then shut his mouth quickly as four sets of eyes were turned in his direction.

"Shut up," Angel growled.  "You're not making this any easier, childe."

"Didn't know that was my job, poof," the blond shot back, his eyes flashing yellow for just a moment.  Then he looked down and saw the sadness in Willow's eyes, and whispered "Sorry, luv," into her ear.

Willow nodded her understanding.  She knew that the younger vampire tended to react quickly to a perceived attack, such as the one Buffy had launched at them, and then think later.  He might say something mean or snarky, but he didn't really mean it, and upon further thought, would probably regret it.  "It's okay," she mumbled into his chest, willing to forgive him almost anything as long as he would continue to hold her and make the rest of the world go away.

"I've never seen Buffy act like that," Anya said, astonished.  "She was completely out of control."

"She doesn't always react well to a problem that she can't beat into submission," Angel agreed, sitting down and joining them.  The five of them sat quietly for a moment, each absorbed in their own deep thoughts.

Finally, Anya broke their silence.  "I'm going to go upstairs and watch a movie, okay?"  The unspoken words were the ones that they heard the loudest; the ones that told them that she needed to be alone with her thoughts, and the ghost of Xander.  They reminded her that they would be there for her, whenever she was ready.

The others moved back to the card table to talk, and after a bit Angel left to make some dinner.  Fred, deep in conversation with Willow, heard a series of loud bangs from within the other room, and decided that that was her cue to see what trouble Angel had gotten himself into.  She excused herself from the table, and with a slight bit of trepidation, snuck into the kitchen.

The sight that met her eyes there left her breathless.  But fortunately it wasn't the terrified, 'so scared you can't breathe' kind of breathless.  It was more the 'giggling so hard you can't breathe' kind of breathless.

In front of the oven stood Angel, master vampire, and one quarter of the Scourge of Europe.  And in his hair was an entire pot of cooked spaghetti, the long strings of pasta covering his hair and sliding down his face.

"This isn't funny," he told her solemnly, as she erupted into peals of near-hysterical laughter.

The serious look on his face as he stood there, covered in what was apparently an attempt at her dinner, was too much for the brunette.  She leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor, sitting Indian-style, bent over as she tried in vain to bring her laughter under control.  Finally, when she had lapsed into the occasional giggle, she chanced a look back up at him.

He gazed back at her, his face impassive, but his eyes held a strange emotion that she couldn't quite define.  It reminded her that there was still so much she didn't know about the man before her, and the thought sobered her a bit.

"So," she said, rising gracefully to her feet, and walking towards the vampire.  "Um, what happened here?  I mean, I know what happened, you obviously had a fight with one of those notoriously pesky spaghetti-demons," she added, unable to stop the grin that again broke the surface of her face.  "But, well???"

"I was making spaghetti, all right?" he answered, slightly miffed that she was still finding so much humor in his predicament.

She moved closer to him, close enough that the air around him was scented with her.  Unconsciously he sniffed the air, enjoying the scent of cinnamon and vanilla.  And pasta.  Damn.

Fred reached up and grabbed handfuls of wet noodles, tossing them carelessly towards the sink, where they stuck with a splat.  Soon Angel was no longer covered with pasta, but his hair had definitely seen better days.  "Go upstairs and take a shower," she ordered with a smile.  "I'll cover for you, tell them you're cooking them a special dinner or something.  Come back when you're done, and we can wow them all with your culinary prowess."

Angel gave the brunette a grateful look, before heading out the door that would take him into the foyer.

~Part: 13~

Angel slipped quietly back into the kitchen, coming up slowly behind the preoccupied brunette.  She stood in front of the oven, slowly stirring the contents of a large kettle with a wooden spoon.  From the looks of it, she was already boiling another kettle of pasta, and had just started to heat the spaghetti sauce.

A sly twinkle shone in his eyes as the beginnings of a plan formed in his head.  He'd teach her a lesson for laughing at him earlier he decided, as he came to a stop directly behind her.  She hummed softly as she stirred the sauce, a dreamy, haunting melody.  He didn't recognize the tune, but was transfixed by her rendition of it none-the-less.  It reminded him of far-away places and times long past, like an old folk song or a lullaby.

He was so entranced that he didn't even notice her turn around to face him.  Surprised to see him standing there, so close behind her, Fred started a bit, her hands flying up to her mouth as a muffled shriek escaped her lips.  Fortunately, it wasn't loud enough to bring the others in, but it was loud enough to bring a grin to the dark vampire's face.

"Damn you, Angel, you scared me half to death!"

He reached out his hands to steady her, placing them lightly on her hips.  She hadn't really needed the help, he supposed, but he was just enjoying the feeling of her warm body underneath his cold hands.

Suddenly memories of Buffy assailed him. Being with her, the casual touching, and what that had led to.  As innocent as it might seem now, he could not head down that path again.  He needed to be strong and resist temptation, even when it was something as innocent and enchanting as a stolen moment with Fred.  Slowly, regretfully, he moved his hands off of her hips, and looked down at her with a reassuring, *friendly* smile.

"I had to pay you back for laughing at me earlier," he reminded her, hoping that she would not see through his attempt at misdirection.  "Now we're even."

Her shrewd hazel eyes gazed at him astutely, knowing that there was more to his behavior than what his words said.  But she trusted him enough to let him set the course of their relationship.

"Why don't you grab plates for everyone, and some blood for you and Spike, and we can all eat together," she told him, chasing the away the awkward moment with her cheerful suggestion.

He smiled his thanks, as he busied himself around the kitchen.  They worked in perfect harmony, until soon there were two full mugs of warm blood and four plates of spaghetti and garlic bread.

Angel cocked an eye at the number of plates.  "You think Buffy's going to come back any time soon?" he asked Fred.

Fred's smile faltered bit, and she bit her lower lip uneasily.  "You know her better than I do.  What do you think?"

"She's really not the Buffy I knew," he admitted sadly.  "She's behaving erratically, lashing out at her friends, and ??? well, at this point I don't really have a clue what she'll do."

"You don't think she'll try to hurt Spike, do you?  Or you?"

The dark vampire shrugged uneasily, an elegant, expressive motion.  "I don't think so, but I just don't know.  We'll all just have to be careful, I guess."

They were both silent for a moment; Angel pondering his lost love, and Fred wondering how she could help her friend.  Then the door from the living room opened, and Willow and Spike were there, and the moment was gone.

~~~*~~~

Dinner was a great success.   Willow raved over the spaghetti, and eventually a shamefaced Angel admitted that his part in creating the meal was rather minimal.

"But you set a mean table," the redhead reassured him with a sincere smile.

"Speaking of empty places," Spike began.

"I wasn't aware we were," Angel said quickly, attempting to stop the conversation there.

"Yeah, good try Poof.  So where's the slayer?  Not here?  What, is she going to live off the land until we're rescued?  Eat fresh nuts and berries and all that rot?"

Willow smiled gently at the picture that Spike's words evoked.  "Buffy's not exactly 'nature girl,'" she admitted.  "I kind of doubt that she'd know a raspberry bush from a yew tree.  Although I hope she'd have the sense to stay away from a yew berries because they're kind of, well, deadly."

"Okay, so the slayer's off on a brood-fest somewhere, but where's demon girl?" the blond asked.

Willow gave him her 'hurt puppy dog' face, and he relented.  "Sorry, luv.  I mean, where's Anya?"

Angel snickered at Spike's display of his fine backpedaling skills, and both Willow and Spike shot him angry looks.

"How does it feel to be whipped, boy?" Angel asked, still smirking.

"Hey now, play fair, Angel," Willow protested.

"Yeah, it isn't like I gave you a bad time about being Slayer-whipped, now, is it?" Spike asked.  "Oh, wait, that's right, I did.  Because you were a bloody ponce about it.  But me, well, I may be whipped, but I'm *manly* about it."  He turned to the young woman beside him and gave her a wink.  "Aren't I, luv?"

Both women erupted quickly into giggles, while Angel looked at Fred with eyes filled with mock betrayal.

"Oh come on, Angel," the brunette told him, trying to curb her laughter, "You have to admit, he's pretty funny."

Angel continued to sit sullenly in his chair, when something Spike mentioned earlier came back to him.  "Where exactly *is* Anya?" he asked.

Willow and Spike both shrugged. "She never came back down, so I figured she still wanted to be alone," Willow explained.  "Why don't Fred and I go upstairs and take her a plate of spaghetti.  That way we can pry, but without really seeming to pry."

Fred got up and quickly prepared a plate.  The two women chatted comfortably as they worked, while the two seated vampires silently challenged each other to a stare-off.  Neither seemed particularly happy with the other, and short of physical violence, this seemed to be the best way for them to show their displeasure with one another.

"Well when you two get through showing each other how fierce and manly you are," Fred told them, a smile playing along her lips, "Come out in the living room, and as soon as we get done with Anya, you can help us figure out what we're going to do tonight."

The preoccupied vampires didn't even glance in her direction as Fred and Willow left the room.  The two could hear as the two women giggled all the way to the foyer, though.

"Well we all know who's the manlier of us two blokes, so we're just wasting our time," Spike said cockily.

Angel wasn't biting, continuing to hold the blond vampire's gaze.  Their concentration was broken suddenly, though, by the sound of a door banging closed upstairs.  Both men stood suddenly, all competitive urges gone, as their keen ears heard the sound of elevated heartbeats and two pairs of feet racing down the stairway.

"Spike," Willow screamed, flinging herself into his arms when their paths met in the foyer.  She was crying again, something that she had done much to much of lately.

"What is it, luv," he asked, suddenly frightened for her.  He held her tightly in his arms, afraid to let her go again.

Angel sat Fred down on the bottom stair of the staircase, noting the slightly glazed look in her eyes, and deducing correctly that she was suffering from shock.  The brunette wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, rocking back and forth and muttering "not again, not again."

"Oh god, Spike, it was awful," Willow moaned quietly.

"Shush, Willow. Relax.  Your heart, it's racing.  You've got to relax, okay?" he murmured, trying to calm the frightened redhead.

"What happened, Willow?" Angel asked.  He didn't think that Fred was in any condition to answer his questions, so he directed them at the crying woman in his childe's arms.  "Willow?" he asked again.

She broke away from Spike for a moment; just long enough to answer Angel's question.  "It was Anya.  She was- dead," the last word came out as a sigh.  "It wasn't pretty," she added softly.

"Take care of Fred for a minute, would you?" Angel asked Spike, before heading up the stairs.  "I'll be right back," he added, as he saw a slightly panicky look start to enter Fred's eyes.  "Okay?"

The young woman nodded slightly, then went back to her examination of the floor beneath her feet, rocking gently back and forth.  Willow sat down next to her, and Spike sat next to her, as the women tried to absorb yet another death.

It had only been hours since Willow had said good-bye to Xander, and now Anya was gone too.  It was more than her overburdened heart could bear.  She knew that emotionally she had begun to shut down, but right now she didn't think that she could do anything else.  The weight of the situation pressed down on her like an inescapable force, and all she could do was endure it as best she could.

She felt an arm loop around her shoulder, and remembered that no matter how awful things were, she wasn't alone.  She had Spike with her now, and he would help her get through this.  The thought was comforting, and she allowed herself to lay her head lightly on his shoulder.

"I'm not leaving you alone, Willow.  Not until we leave this damn island.  It's just not safe."

The words made her feel secure and protected, and she relaxed completely.

They sat that way for a few minutes before Angel came back, his face telling the tale.  What they had seen was real, and Anya was really gone.

"I think it was yew berries," Angel said quietly, sitting down slowly next to Fred.  The brunette seemed a little better now; she had stopped rocking and was simply sitting quietly and staring down.  When she noticed Angel sitting next to her, the look she gave him made it impossible for him to keep his distance like he had hoped to.  He put an arm around her fragile shoulders and held her as she buried her head in his chest.

"I saw them earlier.  The island's bloody rotten with them.  But why do you think it was that?" Spike asked, curious.

"Because there was one on the floor next to the bed," he told them.

"Anya wouldn't do that," Willow insisted, their words dragging her out of her own terror-induced fog.  "I mean, yeah, Xander dying hit her hard, but she wouldn't have killed herself.  She's lived longer than all of us combined.  There's no way that she'd let this get her that far down."

"Willow's right," Spike insisted.  "Demon girl had a strong will, and ultimately she had a strong streak of self-preservation.  She loved the boy, but she would have grieved and moved on.  No, this is the work of our unseen 'hosts.'  Damn it all," he said, standing up and beginning to pace in his frustration.  "We don't see them, hear them, or smell them, but they've got to be out there somewhere."

"Unless-" Fred whispered softly, breaking her self-imposed silence for a moment.

"Unless what, Fred?" Angel asked.

Spike could tell by the horrified look on the brunette's face exactly what direction her thoughts were heading.  "Unless Buffy," he finished, shrugging as Angel and Willow both sent angry looks his direction.

"Buffy wouldn't do this," Willow asserted, fairly certain that it was the truth.

"Normally I'd agree with you, luv," the blond vampire said sadly, as he stopped his pacing and went to sit down by the redhead again.  "But these are hardly 'normal' times.  She's been rather unbalanced lately; maybe her responsibilities have become too much.  She's lived longer than any other slayer, ever.  That kind of pressure and responsibility has got to affect a person.  And then you take it away for a week, and combined with what happened to Giles-"

Neither Angel nor Willow was willing to agree with him, but Spike could tell that Fred had her doubts.  Smart girl, he thought.  He had some doubts about the slayer himself.

~Part: 14~

They buried Anya next to Xander.  The weather was beginning to change, and the temperature had dropped significantly during the last few hours.  It didn't seem to bother the vampires, but Willow and Fred had bundled up before heading out to say a few final words to Anya.

They had looked for Buffy, calling out to her and telling her of Anya's death, but all they heard was silence, and the moaning of the wind as it raced through the trees.  It was almost an unearthly sound, Willow thought as she listened, trying to fashion the moans and groans of the wind into words of some sort.

The young woman shivered slightly as another strong gust struck her, and Spike pulled her close, trying to use his body as a shield against both the harsh weather and the harsh reality of their lives.  She was grateful, but she knew that she would have to be strong and stand on her own or she would never make it through this.  Earlier, she had almost broken down, so great was her horror at what was happening.  She had resolved not to be so weak again.

"Do you want to say something?" Spike asked her, knowing that although she and Anya hadn't been best friends, they had definitely worked through some of their 'Xander' issues and reached an understanding of sorts.  Plus, being Willow, he was sure she would have some kind word to say.

The redhead nodded numbly, trying to pull her thoughts back together.  What did she want to say?  She and the ex-demon had never been all that close, although she certainly didn't hate her either.  They had just never really seen the world the same way, she supposed.

"Anya," she began tentatively, unsure where she was headed with her words to the woman buried below. "I know we weren't really close, but I did consider you a friend.  I respected you.  You were honest, loyal, sincere, and... and never hesitated to speak your mind, no matter how much we shushed you.  Wherever you are, I hope you continue to do that," she finished quietly.

"She was a bit of all right," Spike agreed, 'Although what she saw in the moron,' he thought to himself, 'I'll never know.'

Angel and Fred, not really knowing Anya at all, didn't have much to say, so the four made their way quickly back to the comfort of the mansion.  Little was said, as each of them seemed trapped within their own deep thoughts.

~~~*~~~

Angel lit a fire in the living room fireplace, and soon the four of them sat comfortably around it.

Spike had chosen a seat on the couch, his arm laid protectively across Willow's shoulders and their fingers laced casually together.  She had been so quiet since they left Anya, and he was beginning to wonder what kind of thoughts were running through her mind.

Angel lay on the softly carpeted floor, facing the fire.  He seemed to crave the heat, and like a large cat, he stretched and relaxed as he enjoyed the warmth that surrounded his body.  Fred, who finally seemed to be bouncing back from the earlier trauma, sat down just in back of him, her eyes riveted to the flames dancing beyond Angel's relaxed body.

Spike was never one for comfortable silences, so he stole a quick look at his love beside him, then spoke to the room at large.  "We've all been dancing around the issue, but we need to talk about Buffy."

"What about her?" Willow asked, not liking the direction she sensed his thoughts were heading.  "She didn't kill Anya, Spike."

The redhead let go of his hand and moved back to look him in the eye.  "I don't care what you say, or what she was saying or feeling.  I know Buffy.  She wouldn't do this."

Angel's soft voice floated up to her from in front of the fire.  "Willow, you know that she hasn't been herself lately. She???"

"No!" The redhead said, shaking her head emphatically.  "She's been through a lot, yeah, I admit it, but if she killed Anya, then that would mean she killed Xander too, and Giles.  And she wouldn't do that!"

"Luv," Spike cautioned her, "We're just throwing the possibility out there."

"Sorry," she murmured, casting her head down to look at her feet.  She thought about all that Buffy had been through during the last several days, but no matter what, she always came back to the same conclusion.  Her friend would not have done this.  Finding strength in her convictions, she turned her head back to look at Spike, and spoke again, with certainty.  "I know that you're all trying to find something that makes sense out of this insanity, but I still don't believe it.  Buffy wouldn't, *couldn't* kill any of us.  Heck, Spike, she hates *you* more than just about anyone, and she still hasn't brought herself to kill you."

"Well you *could* sound a little happier about that fact, Willow," the blond complained, his face showing a pained expression.

"You know how happy I am about that," she whispered into his ear, as she snuggled closer to his body.

He grinned down at her, loving the feel of her warm skin against his.  "I am too, luv," he whispered back.

"Cough-whipped-cough," came the suspicious sound from in front of the fireplace.  Fred grinned slightly before reaching forward to swat Angel lightly on the back of his head.

"Stop that," she scolded, her frown fading quickly as Angel turned and smiled at her.

"So I'm not saying the slayer's off the hook," Spike told Willow, "But if it's not her, where does that leave us?"

Willow sighed with frustration, unable to give them an answer.  "I just don't know, Spike.  I mean, so far we haven't looked at this very logically.  If we were in some kind of murder mystery, we'd be checking motives and alibis and stuff, but that really doesn't apply here."

"Besides," the younger vampire added, "as far as Anya's death is concerned, we all have alibis.  You and I were in here the whole time, and Angel and Fred were in the kitchen."  He looked down at her small upturned face and added somberly, "That only leaves, well, Buffy."

Angel seemed inclined to let Spike's misconception go, but Fred cleared her throat uneasily, and gave the pair on the couch an anxious look.  "Actually, that's not quite true," she stated quietly, shooting a glance at Angel's back.

Glancing back at Spike and Willow, the young brunette answered their questioning glances.  "There was an incident in the kitchen, and Angel had to go, and, um, take a shower."

"An incident?" Spike asked cynically, casting curious looks at the pair in front of the fireplace.  "What kind of incident, exactly, would require a shower afterwards?"

Fred's lips quirked into a slight smile as she remembered the look on Angel's pasta-covered face.  "Well, there was spaghetti, and, um, it was everywhere," she told them, refusing to give out too many details to her curious audience.  "So I told him to go upstairs and take a shower, and I'd take care of everything here."

"So you don't have an alibi, sire.  Interesting development, that.  And this whole set-up just *smacks* of Angelus," Spike smirked as he needled the older vampire, waiting for the response that he was sure was coming.  Angel was always so bloody predictable.

Except for today, apparently.  Angel merely continued to look forward, staring into the fire and pointedly ignoring his childe's taunting tone.  After a few moments of silence, he finally replied, his voice cold and dispassionate.  "This would all be a fine game to Angelus.  Killing off the humans one by one, feeding on their fear and uncertainty.  But I'm not Angelus, and you're damned lucky that I'm not.  *He* would have started the killings with your new friend there," he added, his tone making it obvious that he was referring to Willow.

"No offense intended," he said softly, turning to look at Willow with apologetic brown eyes.  "It's just that Angelus would have seen Spike's weak spot, and gone in for the kill immediately.  More of an instinct than anything, I suppose."

Willow nodded her understanding, although she was still a little uneasy about the turn the discussion had taken.

"What else would he do?" Fred demanded quietly, determined to know the worst that the dark vampire could do.

Angel was quiet again, choosing his words.  "Fred, well, you'd be awfully pale," he finally said, unable to tell her straight up that she would be a vampire.

"I'd be pale?  Why would I- oh!" she said, falling silent as the true meaning of his words struck her.

"I think it's time I got Willow to bed," Spike said, interrupting the conversation.   He suspected that Angel and Fred would probably like some time alone, and he knew he'd like some time alone with his redhead.  It had been far too long since he had kissed her.

"Goodnight Fred, Angel," Willow called, as Spike practically dragged her from the room.

"That conversation looked like a train wreck waiting to happen," Spike commented, as they walked up the stairs.  "Personally, I don't see any way that a conversation that begins with a guy telling his girl that he'd like to kill her could possibly end well."

"But she isn't his girl," Willow reminded him.

"Maybe not, but if there wasn't a curse involved, she would be," he explained.

"You say that like she has no choice in the matter," she commented, a little uncomfortable with Spike's assumption that Fred would fall into Angel's plans without any choice or opinions of her own.

"We vampires can be pretty persuasive when we want to be," he told her, giving her a smirk.  She still seemed a little uneasy, and the reason hit him as they approached her door.

"You're afraid that I'll go all caveman on you, aren't you?  Be jealous, and not let you live your own life, stuff like that?"

She nodded slightly, unable to look him in the eye.  All the talk about Angelus had reminded her that underneath it all, Spike was also a vampire.  Just how much *would* that fact affect their relationship?

"Willow," he commanded, "Look at me."  When she refused to look up, he took her chin and lifted it gently, looking down into her luminous green eyes.  "I'm not going to be like Angelus.  I was *never* like Angelus, not even on my worst day.  Sure, I've done some things in my past that I know you wouldn't like, or approve of.  I can't deny that.  But my life has changed in a lot of ways in the last couple of years, and *I've* changed as well.  And not just because of this bloody chip, either."

She smiled then, and Spike felt as if a huge weight had been lifted.  She knew what he'd done, and she accepted it.  Accepted who he had been, and who he was now, and knew that there was a difference.

"C'mon, luv, let's get you to bed," he said softly, opening the door to her bedroom, and looking appraisingly at the large bed there.

"Spike, will you stay here with me tonight?" she asked, a little hesitant.  She didn't want him to think she was silly, but she was scared, and the only thing lately that had helped her to feel better was to be in the circle of his arms.

He looked surprised, as if this was a matter that had already been decided.  In his own mind, it had been.  "Of course I'm staying here," he agreed.  "There's no way in hell I'm letting you out of my sight until we're off this damn island.  Okay," he conceded, "that did sound more than a bit like a caveman, but you've got to admit that these are extenuating circumstances, yes?"

"Yes," she agreed, giving him a sad smile.  "The most extenuating."

~Part: 15~

Angel rose slowly from his position in front of the fire, his body graceful and liquid in its movements.  "I guess we need to talk," he told Fred, reaching down with his hand to pull her up as well.  He led her over to the couch and indicated that she sit.  Once she was seated, he joined her, turning to face the uncertain young woman.

"You know about the curse, right?" he asked, his unhappy eyes tugging at her heart and making her wish that she could somehow help him.

She nodded silently, wondering where he was taking this discussion.  Was this about Buffy?  Or his childe?  The questions swirled around her always-active mind, as it examined and discarded each possibility.

The vampire watched as the expressions flitted across her face, wondering what she was thinking about.  Could she really not realize how much he cared for her?

"Well, because of the curse, I've had to stay away from a woman who means a lot to me," he continued.  He couldn't look up at her face, he decided.  Couldn't bear to see the pity and rejection in her beautiful eyes when she understood that it was her he was talking about.

"Buffy," she said softly, realizing that he wanted to talk about his former love.  It was always about Buffy, she thought sadly.  Then she gave herself a mental shake; she was his friend.  At least she had that.  If this was what he needed to talk about, then she would be there for him to help him through it.

His hands moved to her face, his eyes burning into hers, as he saw her sadness.  "No, silly, not Buffy," he teased, his tone light, "You, Fred.  I love you."

"You...no, I mean, you're joking, right?  You and Buffy-"

"Buffy and I are in the past.  I'm not sure when I started to care for you Fred.  It just kind of happened, and one day I realized it and accepted it.  But because of the curse-" he trailed off uncertainly.

"Because of the curse, you've never been able to say it," she replied, understanding now, finally, how he felt.  He loved her, but would never be able to be with her.

"It would have been too selfish," he said sadly, grateful that she understood.

"The hell it would have!" she disagreed, a surprising bit of anger building in her voice.  "Just because you can't be with me physically, doesn't mean that you couldn't tell me!"

"What would the point have been?  What could I have said?  Hi honey, I love you, but there's this curse, so we can never be together.  Sorry about that.  But hey, don't feel any obligation towards me, okay?  Go on and live a normal life, just like you would have anyway."

"Well at least you could have said *something*, let me know how you felt, how you FEEL about me.  I deserve to know!"

"I'm sorry, Fred, I thought I was doing what was best for both of us by keeping quiet," the somewhat flabbergasted vampire replied.  "I didn't want you to feel obligated to me," he confessed quietly.

"But I *do* feel obligated," she told him, her anger quieting and her compassion kicking in.  She grabbed his cool hands in her own, looking into his eyes.  "You're my friend, and no matter what else is between us, I feel obligated to make sure you're happy.  Especially if the same thing that would make you happy would make me happy too."  She looked away for a minute, mentally re-running her last sentence through her head.  "Did that make sense?" she wondered.

Angel couldn't help it.  He just had to laugh.  The sound was large and booming in the quiet room, but hearing it made Fred laugh too.  "I don't know if it made sense or not, but I understood it," he told her, unable to resist pressing a soft kiss to her lips, before he pulled away.

"Come on, I'd better get you to bed.  Something tells me that tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

~~~*~~~

Willow slept in the arms of her love, feeling safe and content.  He had promised to stay with her all night, just in case.  Just in case *what* was never discussed, but was simply understood.

They had not made love that night, although they were both more than willing.  But Spike insisted that they would have all of eternity to remember their 'first time', and he would not waste it on a night when they were both tired and she was frightened.  So they had slept together, fully clothed, but their bodies entwined just as intimately as if they were lovers.

And when Willow awoke in the early hours of the morning, fresh from dreams of Giles, Xander, Anya, and happier times together, he held her while she cried, his gentle hands caressing her soft skin until she drifted off to sleep again.

~~~*~~~

Spike was the first to wake, his senses finely attuned to the creaks and cracks of the old mansion they currently inhabited.  He sensed his sire standing before the door even before he heard his soft knock, and rose quietly to his feet, being careful not to disturb the sleeping redhead next to him.

He opened the door a crack, slipping out through the space and into the hall.  The only word to describe the look on Angel's face was 'devastated.'  The amount of pain and anguish in his soft brown eyes was startling.  Spike had seen his sire go through a lot, especially once he received his soul, but he had never seen the older vampire this distraught.

"I take it your talk with Fred didn't go well last night?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.  "Did she give you that 'we can always be friends' crap?"

Instead of the flash of anger that the younger vampire expected to see in his sire's eyes, there was instead a flash of even deeper pain.  Without saying a word, Angel led him to the door of Fred's room and motioned for Spike to open it.

He opened the door slowly, not sure exactly what type of game his elder was playing.  What he saw within stunned him silent, unable to put together even the simplest thought.

Fred lay on the bed, her eyes open, but her body still and stiff.  Spike could tell without even looking closer that she was dead.  Had been for several hours, he'd wager.

Suddenly all the rather nasty things he'd said to Angel seemed pointless and rather cruel.  Regardless of his souled status, the dark vampire had loved this girl, and now she was dead.  "I'm sorry," he said quietly, wishing he knew the words that would make things better.

"WILLOW!" he started, running back to her room, needing to make sure that she was still there; still safe.

"Spike?" he heard her quiet, sleepy voice coming from the other room, and looked over in relief to see the redhead, her hair still tousled, as she wandered groggily into the hall.  "What's with the noise?"

She looked at the two vampires curiously, wondering what the big attraction was with Fred's bedroom.  Suddenly a somber thought occurred to her, and she took a step towards them.  "Spike?" she asked uncertainly.

He knew what she was asking.  But he just couldn't...wouldn't...let her see the body.  "Sorry, luv," he said quietly, approaching her and folding her into his arms.  "Fred's gone."

He pulled back and watched as tears ran freely from her eyes.  She hadn't known the young woman for all that long, but she had seen her as a kindred spirit of sorts.  They were both smart, shy, and knew what kind of things went bump in the night.  Plus, after last night, she suspected that they were both in love with vampires.

And now she was gone.

Willow's eyes moved to Angel, who was watching the two of them silently.  His face was blank but his eyes burned with the depth of his sadness.  She didn't know what to say to make him feel better, and that knowledge made her feel even sadder.

In the end, she realized that all she could do was be there, and be his friend.  She disentangled herself from Spike and approached Angel, enveloping him in a warm hug as she felt him shudder beneath her touch.  "I'm so sorry, Angel.  I-I'm just so sorry."  She didn't know what else to say, what else she could do to make him feel better.

"Thanks Willow," he mumbled into her hair, as he gave her a soft kiss on her forehead.  "I told her everything last night," he said, the words falling unwillingly from his lips.  "Told her that I loved her," he whispered.

"Angel-" she said sadly, totally at a loss as to how to make him feel better.

"It's okay, Willow.  I'll live," he added.  His lips twisted up at the oddity of his choice of words, but there was no mirth in his smile.

"From now on, we stay together," Spike told them, his voice angry and determined.  "I don't know how she's doing this, but it stops now."

"She?" Willow asked uncertainly, pulling away from Angel to look at Spike.  "You think Buffy did this?"

"Well, the timing certainly seems suggestive.  Angel and Fred confess their feelings to each other, and the next morning Fred is dead.  And Buffy, Angel's ex, is nowhere to be found."

"Willow," this time the voice came from Angel.  "I know you don't want to think that she is capable of this, but it does seem rather...odd.  I mean, look at how badly she reacted you and Spike being together.  Then she finds out about Fred and I?  I think you need to start considering the possibility that she is behind this."

"And that maybe she won't stop here," Spike said softly, regaining her attention.  He held out a hand to her, and she grabbed it as if it were a lifeline.  "If she was that upset about Angel and Fred, she might decide that I'm a threat, or that Angel should go."

"I-I'll think about it," the redhead said uncertainly.  So many terrible things had happened so quickly, and her ideas of what was real and possible, and what wasn't, were becoming uncertain.  The lines between what she knew was true and what she was afraid might be true were becoming blurry.  That scared her almost as much as the thought of her own possible death.

~Part: 16~

Another night, and another graveside memorial.  Spike and Willow watched as Angel tried to hold himself together long enough to say a few final words to Fred.  The redhead's mind started to wander, as she looked at each of the neat graves.  There was Giles, and over there was Xander, and Anya was next to him.  She thought of them as old familiar friends, even though they were little more than piles of dirt.  'I wonder where they'll bury me?' she thought idly, in that moment accepting the fact that she would probably die here, on this lonely island.

"What is it, luv?" Spike whispered questioningly, as they watched Angel make his solitary way back to the mansion.

"Over there," she whispered back, pointing to an old wizened tree, not far from the other graves, but far enough for some privacy.

His sharp eyes followed her pointing finger, not sure exactly what he was looking for.  "Over there what?"

"That's where I want to be buried," she whispered back, as if it was the most natural request in the world.

"Don't talk like that," he snapped, scared for her, but not sure what he could do to comfort her.  She seemed so calm and accepting of her impending death, but he suspected that for her it was just another way of reacting to the situation they found themselves in.  "You're going to live a right long time yet."

She held his arm as they moved quickly to keep Angel in sight.  They knew that he would probably enjoy some time to himself, to grieve in his own way, but they didn't want him to be alone, not with a killer on the lose.  How funny was that?  All the times that Xander had called him a killer, Spike too, for that matter, and now they feared for their lives, haunted by a killer that nobody seemed to see.

~~~*~~~

Angel sat in front of the fire in full brood mode.  Another woman, another love, ripped away from him.  And this time he couldn't even blame the gypsies or the curse.  He would never again be able to see her shy smile, or hear her voice call out to him happily.  He would never be able to feel the warmth of her breath on his lips, or lose his fingers in her long, soft, cascading hair.

He would never???

"Here Angel, I brought you something to eat."  Willow interrupted his thoughts with a warm cup of blood, waving it enticingly in front of his nose in an attempt to gain his attention.

"Thanks, Willow," he said, accepting her gift gratefully.  "Sorry, I was just???"

"Brooding," she agreed solemnly.  "You're entitled, Angel.  Something terrible happened to you today."

Willow sat beside him, the two of them staring companionably into the crackling fire.  Spike left his perch on the couch, coming to settle himself on the other side of the young woman.

"She must hate me," he murmured sadly, dipping his head to swallow a mouthful of blood.

"Fred?  Why would she hate you?" Willow asked, confused.

"He's talking about Buffy, luv," Spike whispered into her ear.

"You still think Buffy???"

"Isn't it pretty obvious," Spike asked, surprised that Willow would still insist on the slayer's innocence.

"But???"

"No buts about it, Willow," Angel replied harshly.  "Buffy's the only one who could have done this.  The *only* one.  You need to grow up and get over this hero worship thing you've got going, and face the facts.  Because I'm willing to bet that she's going to come after you next."

The elder vampire looked at the miserable redhead huddled against his childe and immediately regretted his strong words.  "I'm sorry, Willow," he said quietly, giving her shoulder what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.  "I just worry about you.  Both of you," he added, admitting that he was worried for Spike as well.

The blond gave him an understanding look and a nod, acknowledging without words that they were family, and that that bond was far stronger than whatever minor grievances they might have had against each other in the past.

They sat there for a while, all three of them succumbing to the hypnotic movement of the flames before them.  Each of them contemplated their pasts, and the events that had brought them to where they were today.

Eventually Willow tired of the introspection.  Thinking too hard about their current situation made her sad.  Things just looked so hopeless right now, and thinking about it logically didn't seem to make things better.  Looking for a little distraction, she turned to Angel and asked, "Tell me a story?"

He frowned, hesitant to give up his brooding so soon.  Somehow he felt like the memory of Fred deserved more.  But Willow needed him too now, as did Spike, so he put his dark thoughts away for the moment, and concentrated on her request.

"What type of a story?"

"Something about Spike," she said with a smile, giving the blond a teasing look.  He turned and growled softly at her, but his heart wasn't really in it.  Willow merely smiled again and kissed him softly on his cheek, and then turned back to Angel with an expectant look on her face.

Angel thought quickly, trying to think of a tale that would entertain the young woman before him, without majorly ticking off the vampire beside her.  "Well now, there was the one time in Switzerland???" he began quietly, shooting a teasing glance at his childe.  Spike had his eyes closed, his head resting peacefully on the redhead's shoulder.  Angel knew that Spike was still listening, but was trying not to seem too interested in the tale that the older vampire was telling..

"So that's where your love of hot chocolate comes from," she teased Spike, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

"Hey now, you weren't supposed to tell her that part," Spike complained.

"I didn't hear you complaining any earlier when I was telling her about when you took on that entire Swiss village with only a toothpick and a chicken bone.  If you want her to hear about Switzerland, she has to hear the good parts *and* the bad."

"But that bit about the hot chocolate makes me sound like such a ponce," he whined.

"And all of this whining makes you seem so macho," his sire commented, a slight smile on his lips.

Willow watched the two master vampires, smiling at their lighthearted banter.  She must be a terrible person, she thought, to be so happy right now, at this very moment, when everything else was so screwed up.  And yet she was happy.  For just a little while, she had been able to push away all the ugliness and the deaths and the terror, and just enjoy the moment.  The feel of Spike's arm around her shoulder, the twinkle in Angel's eyes as he teased the blond, and the roar of the fire before her, all combined to create a feeling of contentment and happiness.  And sleepiness, she realized, as she tried to stifle a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Why don't we get you up to bed, luv," Spike asked, watching as the redhead struggled to stay awake.

'Because I don't want to be up there alone,' she thought.  But she kept that niggling fear to herself.  She had to be brave.  She couldn't crack, couldn't let him down.

"Or you could just curl up over there on the couch," Angel added.

"You guys will stay here?"

"We'll protect you, my fair maiden," Spike said theatrically, standing up and brandishing an imaginary sword in an attempt to protect her honor.

Willow snickered slightly, but she gave the blond a brilliant smile.  "Why thank you, kind sir," she replied, getting to her feet, only to drop down into a low curtsy.  He grabbed the hand she held before him and kissed it gently, their eyes meeting over her hand.  Suddenly it felt like they were alone in the room; they had eyes only for each other.

Angel cleared his throat, reminding the couple before him that he *was* still in the room.

"Sweet dreams, Red," Spike said, "And don't worry, you've got two strong vampires here to watch over you tonight.  Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise."

Willow believed him.  He would do whatever needed to be done to be sure that she was safe.  With that thought in mind, she got comfortable on the couch and was soon fast asleep.  The sound of her soft, regular breathing convinced the vampires that she was no longer able to hear them, and so they began to quietly discuss the situation they found themselves in.

"Poor girl," Spike muttered under his breath, his eyes resting affectionately on the redhead for a moment, before turning to look at the other vampire.

"We'll take care of her, Spike.  We'll make it through this.  You'll keep her safe until Cordy and Gunn figure out that something is wrong and come to get us."

"Why haven't they figured it out already?" the agitated blond asked.

"I don't know," Angel confessed unhappily.  "I expected that someone would have tried to contact us after three or four days. Maybe they're fighting something big down there and just haven't had a chance yet.  Stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere, we have no idea what's going on in the rest of the world."

Spike pondered that for a moment.  "And what about when they do get here?  What do we do about the slayer?  Do we try to catch her, bring her to justice?"

Now it was Angel's turn to ponder.  "I don't know what to do about her.  And poor Willow, she's so devastated by this whole thing. What would it do to her if she had to watch her best friend go to jail for murder?"

"What really concerns me is that she still believes there's a chance that the slayer might be innocent.  If Buffy showed up here right now, Willow would probably believe whatever cock and bull story she was told.  We don't dare leave her alone; who knows what the slayer would do if she found her."

"We just won't leave her alone," Angel insisted.  "None of us will be alone.  There's just no telling how she might catch us by surprise, and then???"

"And then there would just be two," Spike finished solemnly.

~Part: 17~

Willow awoke with a ticklish nose.  She batted her hand lazily towards whatever was causing the sensation, but nothing was there.  Slowly she opened her eyes and met the crystal blue eyes staring into her from less than two inches in front of her.

"Morning," the smiling vampire greeted her.

"Morning," she mumbled, still trying to find her bearings.  "Wow, I must've been really tired," she added, "Because I was out like a light.  Didn't wake up even once."

"Yeah, you were quiet all night.  Well, except for the snoring," he teased.

"I do not snore!!!" she yelped.  "Do I?" she added uncertainly.

"Hell yes," the blond confirmed, laughing slightly.  "It was damn cute, though.  Sort of a cross between a 'snort' and a 'hiccup.'"

She buried her head into the pillows, trying to ignore the laughing vampire.  Finally his laughter subsided, and she peeked her head out and snuck a look at him.  Seeing his chance, Spike leaned in for a kiss.

"Ewww, no, you can't kiss me now!  Morning breath.  *So* not good," she babbled, getting up and pushing the bewildered vampire away.

"What the bloody hell!" he cursed, eyeing the redhead doubtfully.

"Quiet boy!" came a muttered command from the other couch.  Willow looked over to see Angel laying there, several pillows held over his ears to block out their banter.

"Wow," Willow said quietly, looking between the two vampires.

"What?" Spike growled, throwing an annoyed glance at his sire.

She thought for a moment longer, and then shook her head ruefully as she walked over to face Spike.  "It's just that I think about you having been around for so many, many years, you know?  You've seen so much, and lived through so much history, that sometimes it just amazes me.  But then, when Angel called you that???well, it just made me realize that he's even older than you are, and has seen even more.  And then, if you go back further, there must be vampires that were around even longer than that, who saw-"

"I get it, luv," Spike answered gently, taking advantage of her distraction to place a kiss on her lips.  Realizing she had been caught, Willow gave in and returned the kiss enthusiastically.

"Yummm, morning breath," the blond grinned, ducking quickly when Willow reached down for a pillow and threw it at him.  He grabbed one of Angel's pillows and chucked it back at the hiding girl, hitting her full on in the face.

"I'll get you for that!" she threatened, laughing gleefully as she grabbed a pillow in each hand and advanced on him quickly.  Spike quickly moved next to Angel, daring her to risk the wrath of the older vampire if she were to miss him.

Things had suddenly gotten way too quiet, Angel realized.  He cocked open an eye, looking up to see Willow poised to attack his childe, who seemed to be using him as some sort of a shield.  "Spike," he growled, the sound sending shivers down Willow's spine.

"Sorry, Angel," she apologized sincerely.  "We were just playing, and, um, I guess we got a little carried away."

"I don't blame *you*," the dark vampire said, giving Willow a forgiving look.  "I blame him," he added, pointing at Spike.  "It must be your mission in life to be an eternal pain in my ass," he groused.

"You love it.  You've always loved it," Spike accused, and Angel acknowledged the truth of it with a nod of his head.

"Aye, it's true, I admit it."

"Well, now that we've got that all settled, I need some breakfast," Spike announced.  "Time to wakey-wakey, Angel."

"Huh?"

"Remember," Spike said slowly, as if explaining the situation to a small child, "We are all three joined at the hip until we're rescued.  If I want to go and get some breakfast, you have to come too."

"And what if I don't want any bloody breakfast?" Angel groused, a part of him still hoping to get some additional sleep.

He and Spike had talked late into the night, trying to come up with a plan to get them rescued.  They had discussed a bonfire or some sort of fire that would be seen on the mainland, but the rain and wind that kept pelting the island made that idea unlikely to work.

The next idea they had discussed was building a raft of some sort from any spare wood they could find, but that idea also had its drawbacks.  For one thing, the raft would have to be large enough and stable enough to hold all three of them, since there was no way that only some of them could go.  In addition, they would have to wait for calmer waters, since the waves seemed awfully choppy and violent, thanks to the weather they were experiencing right now.  And lastly, the vampires just had no idea how far away land was, and how they would force the raft to head in that direction.  The currents in the area might even conceivably take them out to sea, and then what would they do?

The last possibility they came up with was equally fraught with trouble:  one of the vampires would attempt to swim back to the mainland, or to another inhabited island.  Since vampires don't breathe, drowning would not likely be a problem.  However, the icy cold of the water might bring on hypothermia, which was another matter altogether.  Neither of them had ever heard of a vampire who had suffered from hypothermia, but then again, how many vampires had ever swam long distances in frigid waters?

In the end, all the time spent in discussion was for naught, because they could not find any idea that was sure to work safely.  All they could do was sit and wait.

~~~*~~~

"I'm bored," Spike whined, stretching out on the couch and flipping playing cards idly into the air.

The three housemates had had a leisurely breakfast, cleaned up, played cards, read, had a light lunch, and once night had come they took a quick walk around the island.  There was no sign of any activity or, even better, an approaching boat, and all they got for their troubles was cold, wet and uncomfortable.

"So find something to do," the elder vampire growled, "I was *not* put on this earth to entertain you."

Having to be in close proximity for hours at a time was putting a strain on all of them.  Angel and Spike had almost come to blows on several occasions now, and only Willow's diplomatic skills had kept them from attempting to wreak havoc on each other.  But at this point, the redhead was just about ready to let them go at it.  She was tired of playing the peacemaker, damn it, and if they couldn't get along, then maybe she would just let them beat the crap out of each other.  At least *she* would be entertained then.

Willow sighed, rather audibly, and the two vampires turned to look at her.  "Sorry, Willow," they both said contritely, and Spike came to perch next to her on the couch.  "It's just that it's driving me nuts, waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?"

"I know," the redhead told him, running a comforting hand through the blond's hair.  He laid his head on her shoulder, enjoying the feel of her soft hands.  Her actions seemed to calm him, and soon a deep rumbling could be heard coming from his chest.

"Whipped," Angel whispered with a grin, but unlike the last time he said it, this time it was said with a wealth of sadness and regret.

Willow thought about Fred, wishing that she could do something for the elder vampire to ease his suffering.  She patted a spot on the sofa next to her, and Angel came and sat down beside her.  Gently she placed his head on her other shoulder, and made the same comforting motions for Angel as she made for Spike.  It took a while, but eventually the dark vampire was making the same contented rumbling noise that Spike was.

'Look at me, I'm Willow the Vampire Tamer,' she thought.  Maybe Buffy had been going about it wrong all this time.  The key wasn't to slay them, just to tame them.  She smiled at the thought of her friend trying to comfort minions, and then shook her head at her own silliness.  Still, a nice, comforting, relaxing feeling had enveloped the three of them, and Willow was reluctant to break the spell that seemed to have been weaved over them.  Finally tired enough to sleep, she leaned her head back onto Spike, and soon was fast asleep.

~Part: 18~

It was dark when Spike woke, the fire having burned down to nothing but glowing embers.  He swore softly when he realized that his sire was no longer with them.  'Damned poof, just like him to wander off when he was needed,' the blond thought, the rather dark history between them rearing its ugly head.  He hoped the bastard was just in the kitchen, preparing some blood for them, or perhaps some toast for Willow, but the other room was silent, and he couldn't sense the other vampire anywhere nearby.

"Fuck," he said softly, suddenly uneasy.

"Spike?" Willow murmured, beginning to stir.  Her hair was tousled, and her face still peaceful.  He hated to disturb her, but knew that he must.

"Bloody poof's gone and wandered off, luv.  I think we'd better go find him."

Willow was instantly awake, her eyes wide and worried.  "You don't think he could be in trouble, do you?"

"Can't say," he admitted, hoping that Angel wasn't.  "But it's the middle of the night, and he's nowhere to be seen.  Something just doesn't feel right.  He wouldn't just take a stroll, you know?"

"Yeah," Willow agreed, standing up and stretching in an attempt to rouse both her body and her mind. "Where should we start?"

"Guess out front is best.  I should be able to sense him better once we're a little closer."  The one thing that had kept the blond from panicking so far was the knowledge that he *could* still feel his sire out there, somewhere.  He couldn't quite sense where he was, but he was definitely out there, and not in any immediate danger.  Or at least not any danger that he was aware of.  He felt no panic or fear from the dark vampire.

They headed outside into the darkness, the shrill wind once again biting into Willow's body, the thin clothes she had on not helping her much.  Spike slung an arm around her, attempting to shield her with his body, and picked an arbitrary direction.  They began to walk quickly, calling for Angel as they went.

"Spike?" The blond vampire heard Angel's voice first, but soon Willow could hear it as well.  It was coming from in front of them, from not too far away.  They followed his voice, and before long they could see him, coming down the path towards them, a grim look on his face.

"Bad news," Angel said, frowning heavily.

And then he came to an abrupt stop, and a stunned look crossed his face.  For there, suddenly, in the middle of his chest, piercing his unbeating heart, was an arrow.

All that Willow and Spike could do was watch with horror as her friend, and his sire, turned to dust before their very eyes.

"Angel," Willow screamed, racing towards the rapidly dissipating dust that had been her friend.  Her eyes were wide with shock, her body trembling with suppressed fear and pain.

"Willow!" Spike yelled, terrified that there was still someone out there who meant them harm.  There were thick, tall bushes on either side of the path, and no way of knowing where the killer was hiding.  He grabbed the panicking woman by the arm, pulling her back sharply against his hard chest.  The chip in his head gave him a jagged twinge of pain; he must have hurt Willow when he pulled her.  He ignored the pain, knowing that he had to get her out of there.

His eyes were trained on the site of his sire's death, watching the dust fly off on the bitter wind, but he managed to drag Willow back towards the house.  They quickly tumbled in the front door and closed it fast, then fell down together against the back of it, holding each other tight and crying with abandon.

They sat there like that for what seemed like hours.  Eventually Spike pulled Willow into his lap, holding her while she cried, and kissing away as many of the tears as he could.  At the same time, blood-tinged tears soaked the front of his shirt, turning the white cotton undershirt to a light red.

"Spike," Willow whispered, "I'm so scared."

"I know, Willow, I know," he whispered back, "I am too," he finally admitted quietly.

And it was true, too.  Angel had seemed invincible to him.  His sire, his teacher, and later his enemy.  And now, just recently, he had become a tentative friend again.  But no matter what their relationship had been, Angel had always been stronger, smarter, and faster than Spike.  Now he was gone, killed before their stunned eyes by an unseen hand.  And if Angel couldn't make it through this, then Spike knew that there was little chance that he could.  And if he couldn't, then Willow had absolutely no chance at all.

They huddled together, stunned and shell-shocked, waiting for whatever would happen next.

~~~*~~~

A loud noise from outside brought them both out of their reveries.  "What the hell-" Spike snarled, coming quickly to his feet, his demon face coming to the fore.  He pulled Willow to her feet as well, wincing as he heard her soft moan of fear.

"What was that?" she asked, her small hands clutching his arm tightly, nervous fingers pressing so hard that they drew blood. Spike didn't seem to notice.

"Maybe it's Buffy, finally making an appearance?" the blond wondered, still certain that the slayer had something to do with the killings.  As far as he was concerned, Angel's death had just confirmed his suspicions.  The arrow that had pierced his sire's heart came from a crossbow, and who else would have had one, and known how to use it?

His earlier fears began to dissipate, and Spike felt the beginnings of rage stirring deep inside him.  They had been trapped like rats, and then slowly destroyed, one by one. In the beginning it hadn't been so bad, but now the killer had messed with his family.  His sire was gone forever, and his Willow was threatened as well.  She was nearly petrified with terror, and he knew that she couldn't live like this much longer.

He had a decision to make now, he realized.  They could stay here, barely living, jumping at every shadow they saw and each noise they heard, until finally their lives came to an end.  The alternative?  They could go outside and meet the slayer, face her down, and destroy her like she had tried to destroy them.  Willow could never do it, he knew, but he was more than up for the chance.  His chip might explode, sending his head in one direction and his body in the other, but at least he would go out like a demon was meant to, doing battle against the slayer.

His mind made up, he turned to Willow, holding her face gently in his hands.

"Willow?  I've got to go out there and face whatever this is."

"No!" she moaned, the sound low and frightened.

"Yes, luv.  I have to do it.  We can't live like this.  I'd much rather die quickly, than to die piece-by-piece, miserable the whole time.  Can you understand that?"

Willow stared into his deep blue eyes, weighing his words carefully.  To die next to him was preferable than living without him, so she made the only decision she could.  "I'll go with you," she said quietly, agreeing to die by his side, if that was what the fates had in store for them.

Spike kissed her desperately, his mouth ravaging hers.  If this were to be the last kiss they would share, he would make it a good one.  He poured all of emotions into it:  his love for her, his devotion, tenderness and passion.  Soon Willow was clinging to him shamelessly, tears slipping from her eyes once again.  She knew, just as he did, that this could very well be good-bye.

"I do love you," he whispered quietly to her, finally pulling back and resting his forehead gently against hers.

"And I you," she answered, a tremor in her voice.  Then she straightened up and faced him bravely, a pale reflection of the cheerful, peppy Willow that he remembered from what seemed like years ago.  Had it really only been a week?

"Let's go."

~Part: 19~

Willow and Spike walked hand-in-hand down the path to the beach.  Spike had decided that since that was where they had seen Angel earlier, this was the direction they should head.  The dark vampire's last words about 'bad news' echoed in Spike's mind, and he wondered now what Angel had been about to tell them.

As they made their way slowly down the path to the beach, Willow felt a strange sensation pass through her, almost as if someone were watching them from high up in the mansion.  She looked back quickly, as if hoping to catch someone in the act, but everything looked the same as it had been when they left.  Seeing no sign of anything out of the ordinary, she shook her head at her fanciful notion, certain that it was exactly that and nothing else: a flight of fancy.

Spike cast his eyes about cautiously, looking for something, anything that might be out of place.  He stopped suddenly, sniffing the air tentatively and then recoiling at the scent that invaded his senses.  There was a sudden shift of wind direction and then Willow could smell it too.  It was sickeningly sweet, almost nauseating.

"What is it?" she whispered.  "What could make that kind of smell?"

The blond vampire was fairly sure he knew exactly what was making that smell, but he didn???t want Willow to know.  To his more acute nose, it smelled exactly like a dead body that had been left out in the elements for too long.

"Back to the mansion, now," he insisted, turning and trying to grab her before she could see what he was sure was out there.

Willow wanted nothing to do with the mansion.  Without a word, she dashed down the rest of the steps to the rocky beach below.  Her eyes squinted slightly in the darkness, but suddenly the moon moved out from behind a cloud, and the silvery light showed her all she needed to see.

Because there, lying broken and battered amongst the rocks, was Buffy.  Or rather, what used to be Buffy.

She had obviously been there for a while; scratches and bruises on her body stood out in stark relief against her pale, pale skin.  Her light blond hair was wet and plastered to her face, and her mouth was open in a silent scream of terror.  Unlike the others, who had looked like they had been taken by surprise, Buffy had seen her attacker coming, and had tried to fight him off.  Unfortunately, she had failed.

Her attacker.

Spike and Angel had asserted unequivocally that Buffy was the one behind the killings.  They had insisted time and again that the island was empty of others, creatures or humans, and that the killer could only be her.

And now Buffy was dead.  Had been for a while.  And so was everyone else.

Except Spike.

'Oh god,' she thought, stomach wrenching and heart breaking, as she heard him come to a stop behind her.

Spike looked at Willow as she eyed the body of the slayer, lying broken and bruised on the sharp rocks.  The slayer.  So Willow was right, the slayer had nothing to do with this.  Had been gone for a day or two, from the look and smell of it.

That only left???Willow.  The one who kept insisting that it couldn't be Buffy behind all this.  The one who had been with him when Angel was killed.  How could she have managed it?

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind.  She must have figured out a way to do it, because it was either him or her, and he knew it wasn't him.  So that left???her.

"You?" Spike asked, giving her a quizzical look.  Not that he had anything against murder and mayhem, just the opposite.  But it just didn't seem right that she was the one behind all of this.

"You?" she asked back, legs trembling.  Willow fell to the ground, but before Spike could rush forward to help her, she was up again, clutching a sharp piece of driftwood in a death grip, her knuckles white with tension.  She moved slowly towards the vampire in calm, measured steps, her face a mask of pain and rage.

 ~~~*~~~

From far above the beach, a single figure sat in a regal high-back chair in the dark attic of the mansion and watched the drama that played out below from a small window.  "I would never have expected it to come to this," Quentin Travers murmured in surprise.  Not many things surprised the head of the Watchers Council these days, and it was rather a special event when it did happen.

He had expected the slayer to be the last one standing.  Or perhaps Angel, the so-called 'vampire with a soul.'  But the young lovers were the ones who had beaten all the odds.

Only now, what would happen when it was just down to the two of them?  The old-fashioned romantic that hid beneath his hard, steely exterior wished that he could stop things now, but he couldn't.  He had to know what would happen.

The watcher looked on, keenly curious, as the redhead and the blond discovered the slayer's body. 'Damn, I wish I could hear what they were saying,' he thought, frustrated.  Still, the outcome would be obvious soon enough.  Either dust would be flying, or the vampire would be clutching his head in agony as he attempted to drain his new girlfriend.  Yes, this had definitely brought a dramatic new twist to the plan, he thought gleefully.  Never could he have imagined a conclusion this spectacular.

Suddenly the young woman was on the ground.  Shock, probably.  'Too bad for her,' he thought.  The vampire would definitely be taking advantage of this opportunity.  But before he could, she was up again, and clutching a makeshift stake.

"Aaah, you're a smart one," he said, nodding approvingly.

He watched in admiration as she walked towards Spike, the driftwood stake raised menacingly before her.  Words were exchanged; pleas made by the vampire and refused by the other, he supposed.

And then came the moment that he had been waiting for since this entire charade had started.  The woman raised the stake above her head with shaking hands, and brought it down in a sharp motion towards the vampire's chest.

"Fuck!" Travers exclaimed, as the vampire fell to the ground and out of his sight.  His viewing angle was all wrong now.  All he could see was the redhead still standing upright.  Then she bent down, the stake raised again, and then slashed downwards, and a large pile of dust flew away on the wind.

The spectator nodded approvingly, glad that the final act of his little drama had now been performed, although disappointed that he had been unable to actually see the vampire get his just desserts.  Still, he had seen the dust flying; there was little doubt in his mind that Willow had indeed staked the vampire.

He began to make his way down the various sets of stairs and passageways, his ultimate destination the front door.  He was eager to meet the young woman who had proven to be such a formidable person under the most trying of circumstances.

~Part: 20~

Willow walked up the pathway to the mansion, shock setting in and making the effort to move her limbs almost impossible.  She wondered again why they had all been brought here, and who had been responsible for the massacre of her closest and dearest friends.  Her eyes latched onto the front door of the mansion, and she reached out slowly, grabbing the handle in her small, shaking hands, and pulling the door open.

Green eyes focused onto the lone figure in the foyer.  She should have been surprised; would have been, under other circumstances.  But now, today, all she could muster up was a cool numbness that flowed slowly through her veins.

"Quentin Travers," she murmured, the words sounding eerily loud in the empty mansion.  She hadn't quite expected to find out the identity of their captor this quickly, but something inside her had made her wonder if they would show themselves now, now that she was alone.

"Willow Rosenberg," the man replied, giving her a regal nod of his head.  "You're a surprise, I'll give you that."

She looked at him, confusion marring her pretty face.  "What do you mean?"

"We never expected you to be the last one," he told her.  "Oh, you're smart, there's no doubt about that.  But when it came down to the nitty-gritty, I expected to be having this conversation with the slayer.  Or perhaps one of the vampires.  But not you."

"It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for," she told him, a bitter twist to her lips.  "We're always underestimated."

He walked a little closer to her, circling her, watching her, but never getting too close.  He examined her as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve.  "I suppose you'd like some answers?" he asked, unnerved by her quiet calm.

She nodded once, her eyes still fixed solely on him.  "Answers would be nice," she agreed quietly.

'How odd this seems,' Willow thought.  Just about everyone she had ever cared about was dead because of this man, but instead of flying at him in a rage, all she could do was talk to him in this detached manner.  Maybe this is shock, she thought.  This complete numbness and total inability to do *anything* at all.  In some ways she hoped it was.  Otherwise the pain of her loss would surely drive her to kill this man in front of her.

"For starters, why don't you tell me why you arranged all this?"  Her voice was louder now, accusatory.

The older man flinched slightly, reacting to her harsh tone.  He drew himself up straighter and became arrogant in his manner.  "It was a test, of course."

"A test?  Looks like we all failed, huh?" and then she laughed, a high-pitched sound devoid of mirth.

"On the contrary, you all passed.  Quite surprising, really.  I rather suspected that when it came down to you and the vampires, that only the vampires would remain."

"We all passed," she repeated, the calmness of her voice belied by the fire in her eyes.  "Well it'll be awfully hard to give the rest of them a final grade, seeing as how THEY'RE ALL DEAD!" she yelled.

She collapsed onto the floor then, her shoulders heaving, her sobs echoing off of the walls of the foyer.  Travers eyed her uneasily, unsure whether to attempt to calm her, or whether he would be better served to back away from her.

"Well now," came a voice from outside, "They're not *all* dead, are they, luv?" And with those words, Spike walked quickly into the room and pulled the crying redhead up into his arms.  "I'm afraid you missed one, you bastard," he said, a satisfied smile on his face.

"But-but-I saw her kill you!"  The red-faced watcher sputtered.  He watched the vampire uneasily, his nerves on edge, ready to bolt at the smallest movement.

"See, luv," Spike murmured to Willow, "I told you it would be all right.  He couldn't tell what was going on, just like we hoped." He shot a disgusted look at the watcher, who was still eyeing him uneasily.  "Yeah, a little dirt thrown into the air at the right moment, and the bleedin' moron had no idea what was really going on."

"Bravo, Spike," the words were called down from the second floor landing, and Willow and Spike both looked up to see Angel standing there, a completely corporeal, not-dusty Angel.  He clapped slowly as he looked down at them, respect for his childe showing clearly in his expression.

"But-" Willow and Spike were both stunned.  "We saw you die!" Willow finally exclaimed, her mind unable to think of anything else to say except a statement of the obvious.  Spike merely scowled, certain now that they had been pawns in one of Angelus' evil schemes.

"And no, Spike, I'm not Angelus.  I'm still Angel." The vampire said, reading his childe's look perfectly.  "Just like she's still Anya," he added, pointing to the young woman who had just appeared next to him from out of thin air, "And just like he's still Xander, unfortunately."

Sure enough, as soon as the words were spoken, Xander popped into sight right next to Anya.

Neither Willow nor Spike could move or speak; they could only stare as one by one, each of their friends appeared before their amazed and confused eyes.  Xander, Anya, and then Giles, looking as tweedy as ever.  Next to appear was Buffy, smiling down on the two bewildered individuals, and then Fred, who waved and smiled shyly at the twosome.

Willow gasped sharply, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of joy.  They were alive!  All of the sadness and fear that had become a part of her daily life was slowly beginning to melt away, a little bit at a time.  Her eyes flitted eagerly from face to face, as if to reassure herself that they were really there, and that they wouldn't disappear if she looked away for a moment.

"Now would be a good time to start with the explanations," Spike growled, his eyes moving to spear Travers before he could step away from them.

"Of course.  I was just getting started when I was," he shot a look up at Angel, "So rudely interrupted."

"Yeah, whatever.  Just tell me what the hell has been going on here, before I rip your bloody head off, chip or no chip."

Travers gave the blond vampire his harshest look.  "That would be ill advised," he muttered.

"Enough with the macho bullshit posturing," Buffy called down, "You owe them the truth, at the *very* least.  Give it to them quickly, or I might just decide to help Spike."

Travers cast an angry look towards the slayer, then turned back to face Willow and Spike.  She was trembling slightly, stress and shock finally taking its toll, and Spike was holding her close in an attempt to calm her nerves.   But in spite of everything, there was a look of hope on her face that had been absent for far too long.

"Very well," Travers said.  "There was some concern-" his words were interrupted by an angry snort, coming from the vicinity of the petite blonde, but when Travers glared at her, Buffy's face was the picture of perfect innocence.

"As I said," he repeated, trying his best to remain unfazed by his rather hostile audience, "There was some concern at the council over what we considered the slayer's rather unorthodox friendships.  Her two vampires friends, in particular, seemed to us rather like fraternizing with the enemy. "

"I'm not her bloody friend," Spike muttered, but Willow shushed him, needing to hear the rest of the story.

"We knew that the direct approach would probably not be to our benefit.  Relations between the council and Ms. Summers had degenerated into thinly veiled tolerance, if not downright hostility.  Through no fault of our own," he added quickly.

"Always such the martyr, Quentin," Giles called out bitterly.  "We all know why relations were 'strained' as you so delicately put it.  And believe me when I tell you that *none* of us are going to buy your version of it."

"Very well," the man nodded, a look of annoyance flashing across his face, "If I may continue?"

Giles nodded tersely.

"Since we figured the straight-forward approach was likely to be unsuccessful, we decided that it would be wise to create a little test, to see how things would go 'in the wild', so to speak.  What choices you all would make, if push did indeed come to shove."

Willow was stunned.  This entire???charade???was put into play for the sole purpose of ascertaining whether the vampires could be trusted?  "You did this, all of this, just to see if you could trust Angel and Spike?"

"Not just those two," Travers assured her.  "Don't forget, Miss Rosenberg, your little group of misfits also counts an ex-vengeance demon and a budding witch in its ranks.  You were all being tested.  Even Buffy was being tested.  We had to know that if it came to a choice between one of her vampires and one of the humans, that she could be counted upon to do the right thing."

"Guess I didn???t cover myself with glory when it all comes down to it," Buffy admitted softly.  "I should have stayed with the rest of you instead of freaking out and running."

"You were under incredible strain, Buffy," Angel insisted.  "You did what you thought was best, at the time.  That's all that any of us can do."  The dark vampire had obviously forgiven her for her earlier accusations against him.

"How did you-how, I mean, okay, we never actually saw the others die.  But Angel, we saw him dusted.  How did you do it?" Willow asked, finally beginning to shake off her confusion.  No matter how severe the shock, her keen mind would never be stilled for long.  She always needed to know 'why'.

"Probably the same way you tricked me earlier, at least in part." Travers admitted.  "I won't give away *all* our secrets, but I will tell you that we had a great many wizards working for us on this.  There were spells within spells.  And then there were the dummies."

"Dummies?  You mean like Harris over there?" Spike said with a grin, beginning to get into the spirit of things.

"Hey Fangless, you'd better be nice to me now.  I've *got* something on you," Xander said with a smirk.  "Deadboy here told me about a little unauthorized snooping you did while you were 'searching' someone's room. "

Spike lifted an elegant eyebrow at his sire, as if asking how Angel could have given aid and comfort to the enemy.

"Well my boy, I had to find *some* way to spend the time.  Waiting for you and Willow there to come search for me was getting a wee bit boring," he said, giving an exaggerated yawn.

"What were you saying about dummies?" Willow asked, undeterred by the friendly banter going on around her.

"Well," Travers said, allowing a small bit of pride into his voice, "We had dummies created for each of you.  They were completely lifelike, down to the temperature and texture of the skin.  And no," he added, "I won't tell you how we did that."

"Once they were created," he continued, "The wizards went to work on them, making them smell just like their human counterpart.  We even had artificial auras built for them, and let me tell you, that was *not* easy.  But they had to be 'real' enough to fool all of your senses."

Willow fell silent, contemplating exactly how much power and work must have gone into making their duplicates.  In a way it would have been flattering, if it weren't for all the pain and unhappiness they had caused.

"So now what happens?" she asked softly.  "You say that we've passed your test.  What does that mean?  Do we get to go back to our lives, with a pretty gold star stuck to our report card?"

Travers smiled slightly at the redhead, before looking up at the others.  "You have proven yourself to be worthy champions.  Because of that, we have rewards for you.  Or gifts.  How ever you would like to think of them."

~Part: 21~

They had gathered in the living room, coupled together on the various pieces of furniture.  Willow sat on Spike's lap, the redhead staring deeply into his crystal-blue eyes.  He twirled a lock of her fiery hair between his deft fingers, while his other hand traced patterns on her pale, beautiful face.  The spark was beginning to come back into her eyes, he noted with relief.  This 'vacation' had been rough on all of them, but none had suffered more than she had.  Fortunately for them, though, he had the rest of their lives to make her feel better.  The very idea of it made him smile, and the cold places inside him filled with warmth and happiness.

On another couch nearby, Angel and Fred talked softly.  The knowledge of his feelings was still something new and wondrous for Fred, and even as he tried to fight it, Angel felt himself drawn to the shy young woman more than ever.   The voices in his head cautioned him that this would lead to nothing but sadness and heartbreak for the two of them, but at this moment he just didn't care.  The terrible charade was finally over and the woman he loved was sitting next to him.  And for now, that was enough.

Buffy watched Xander and Anya wistfully, slightly envious of their happiness.  She knew that someday she would find the one who was meant to be with her.  'Assuming you live long enough,' that bitter voice whispered inside her.  For now, she would try to be happy for her friends?all of her friends.  Sometimes it wasn't easy, but her life as the slayer was filled with less than simple tasks.  She would make it through.

Quentin Travers bustled into the room, looking as self-important as ever.  He cast a slightly disapproving look at the young people around him, and then cleared his throat importantly.

"Well, I'll cut right to the chase.  Because the watcher's council has deemed you worthy, we are at liberty to provide you with some things that might make your life easier.  Ms. Summers, the council would like to offer you a paid position.  You would be our employee, earning a decent salary, and we will take care of medical insurance and other benefits, the same as we do for our other employees."

He watched curiously as Buffy looked questioningly at Giles.  Her watcher nodded slightly, giving his approval.

"The only way I would ever consider working for the council again is if Giles were to be my watcher," she told him, her eyes serious.  "And of course he would have to be fairly compensated as well." She smiled as she said the words, proud that she was in a strong bargaining position.  The council obviously went to a lot of trouble to put this together, and if they were as happy with the results as they seemed, then she should be asking for anything she could get.  "And I want a vacation," she added, realizing that she was on a roll.  "Two weeks every year.  If you were able to arrange for my absence for this?trip, well, you can do it again."  She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and gave Travers a cool stare.

The little bitch was challenging him, Travers realized.  However, since he had been willing to give her these things already, he merely nodded to her and her watcher calmly, assuring them that he would give them what they desired.

He looked at Angel, taking in the dark vampire's preoccupation with the brunette next to him.  "And for the vampire with a soul," his words were descriptive, even if they were overly dramatic, "I have this," he said, tossing an amulet to Angel.  "Take it to your watcher, and he will tell you what to do with it.  It should secure your soul permanently."

He watched Angel's face for a moment, noting with interest the effects his words made on the other.  Angel looked at Fred and then burst out into an unreserved smile.   'And we're doing this just in time, by the look of it,' he thought uneasily, not particularly interested in having his slayer go another bout with Angelus.  Hopefully they'd get the ritual taken care of and secure that thing quickly.

His glance swept the room again before settling on the other vampire.  Spike.  The blond had earned himself a small measure of the watcher's respect.  Not only was he brave and crafty, but also he and the redhead had managed to beat Travers at his own game.  Not many did that, and fewer still lived to tell about it.

"Spike, I will make you the same offer as I made your sire:  a soul, without the happiness clause.  I'm not sure if you will want to take it; I'll leave that decision up to you and your girl.  If you decide to take me up on the offer, Buffy or Giles will know how to get in touch with me.  Now as for Willow," he added, giving the young woman a speculative look, "I am offering you a scholarship for whatever college you wish to attend.  If you would prefer to stay where you are, we would be willing to pay for your studies with a wicca, someone who would enable you to further your studies in magic.  Again, no decision has to be made today.  Merely contact me when you are ready, and I will arrange for these things to happen."

Excitement danced in the green eyes as they met his gaze.  He would bet good money that she went for the magic training.  She was a talented one, to be sure.  Smart as well.  Someone to keep an eye on in the future?

"For Xander and Anya I have nothing special to offer.  I am sorry, children.  But in a way it really is a compliment; it means that you already have everything you want and need.  However, if you are ever in need of our help, please know that the council will be happy to do whatever we can."

"Don't worry," Giles told a frowning Anya, "Now that I'm going to be a watcher again, I will have to give up my store in favor of more official duties.  I would be honored if you would accept the Magic Box, with my compliments, and run it as you see fit."  The man was gratified to see a grin break out onto Anya's face, and he smiled slightly as she squealed in excitement and clasped Xander to her tightly.

"With my compliments means free, right?  I mean, of course it does," she added bouncing in her seat.  "Did you hear that, Xander?  I'm going to be a real, honest-to-god capitalist.  With money, and employees, and-and everything!"

Xander smiled back at her.  "That's my gal," he said quietly, glad to see Anya so excited.  He pitied whatever poor hapless employee she managed to hire, but as long as it wasn't him, he was happy.

"Well, it is time for me to take my leave," Travers told them as he headed for the door.  "I suppose I should apologize for what we put each of you through, but if I did, it would be a lie.  I still feel that it was necessary to ascertain the loyalty of each and every one of you, and I do hope you will in time learn to forgive us for this.  However, in the meantime, you will see that there is a boat tied up on the dock, ready for your use whenever you choose to leave.  You are welcome to stay here for another week, though, for a *real* vacation.  We will leave you alone completely," and with those parting words, he disappeared.  One moment he was standing there, the next he was gone.

They looked at each other uneasily, but Buffy was the first to ask aloud the question they had all been thinking.

"Do you think he's really gone?"

"I for one don't give a damn whether he's here or not," Spike growled.  "I've got one more week before I have to go back to Sunnyhell, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it!"  And with that he stood up, pulled Willow up after him, and left the room, heading for her bedroom.

~Part: 22~

Xander watched with a slight smile as his friend and Spike practically ran from the room.  They all exchanged knowing glances when they heard the redhead's breathy giggle echo down the stairs, and then the door to Willow's bedroom slammed closed and everything was silent.

"Are they-" the young man asked, and then stopped suddenly, shaking his head.  "Don't want to know.  I just don't want to know," he said.

"We could be doing what they're doing," Anya whispered, too low for the others to hear.  Before anyone could stop them, Xander and Anya were gone as well, muttering something about going to check out the previously-mentioned boat as they headed for the door of the mansion.

Angel and Fred weren't far behind, making their polite good-byes to Buffy and Giles as they headed out for a 'long talk'.  Buffy privately hoped that they would refrain from talking with their lips; at least until they got home and were able to securely anchor the vampire's soul.

"Well, I guess we sure know how to clear a room, now, don't we?" Buffy said, teasing her watcher.  It seemed that all of her friends had paired up and vanished, leaving only herself and Giles in the big living room.  The thought that neither of them had anyone special in their life made Buffy sad, but that was the life of a slayer, she realized sadly.  Still, things were looking up.  She was going to be getting a regular paycheck, and benefits, and that two weeks vacation each year was looking mighty enticing.  Maybe she'd take a cruise…there was no way she'd run into any vampires on a ship in the Caribbean.  Her mind buzzed with the possibilities.
 

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Willow and Spike tumbled through the door and into her room, laughing as the door shut behind them.  He took her tenderly in his arms and looked down into her shining green eyes.

"Now I finally have you right where I want you," he growled, eyes flashing from gold back to blue again.  "Thought that Travers bastard would never shut his yap."

"And just what are you planning to do, now that you have me all to yourself," she asked solemnly, the slight twinkle in her eyes belying the seriousness of her words.

Spike stepped away for a moment, thinking of everything that they had been through during the last several days.  Was this too soon? Was she really ready to put all of that behind them?

"What is it, Spike?"  Was he changing his mind?  Didn't he still want her?  All her old insecurities surfaced, and suddenly she felt like she was ten years old again.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, luv?  After everything that's happened, I mean, we don't have to now.  We could wait until we get home."

"Don't you want to?" she whispered, turning away so that he could not see the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

The loud bark of laughter from the blond vampire startled her, and she whipped back to look at him.  "Don't I want to, she asks!  I've been bloody well thinking of nothing else for a week straight.  Well, other than the murders and keeping you safe.  Hell yes I want to.  I just don't want to push you."  Hell, he was turning into such a bleedin' ponce.  But when she turned to him and that gentle smile lit up her face, well, he knew it was well worth it.

"If you don't start kissing me right now, I'll-I'll-well, I don't know what I'll do to you, but it won't be nice," she pouted, sticking her lower lip out.  He thought about how enticing that lower lip looked, and how he wanted nothing more than to kiss it, along with the rest of her, and then he did exactly that.

"Love you, Willow.  Nothing will ever change that, " he murmured, kissing her lips with an intensity that left her breathless.

"I love you too, Spike," she answered back, breaking away from his tantalizing mouth for a moment to stare into his pure blue eyes.  All her insecurities and doubts were forgotten; all that remained was her love for him, their love for each other.  "And I think it's time we finally celebrated that love," she added quietly, returning her lips back to his.

They kissed again, tongues meeting, entwining, healing, and helping them forget everything except for their love.  He moved his mouth slowly, raising a trail of frozen fire down her neck as he kissed and nibbled the skin he found there.  The sound of her moans and pleasure spurred him on, and soon he was paying homage to her breasts, kissing them, tracing them with his tongue, and finally nipping them with blunt teeth.  Her fingers ran through his soft hair, pushing his head to her breast and demanding more.

Finally Spike could stand it no longer, he had to be inside of her.  He slid down between her legs, his forehead resting gently on her nether curls, as he ran his tongue up and down the length of her slit.  The low, anguished moan made his demon rush to the forefront, and she gasped as she felt the ridges protruding from his forehead momentarily, until he got himself back under control.

"Please Spike," she murmured, her small body thrashing against him, trying to convince him to stop his sexual teasing.  Her body was on fire from his touch, the space between her thighs a pool of molten lust dying to be quenched by the feel of his cold hard cock.  She needed him more than she had ever needed anyone.

Spike grinned, loving the effect that he had on this woman.  His woman.

Certain now that they were both ready, he moved up slightly, until his cock was at her entrance.  He slipped just the head of it in, sliding it in past her lips.  Then, staring deeply into his lover's lust-filled eyes, he pushed into her, gliding in until he was in her to the hilt.  He heard her groan, a mixture of pain and pleasure, and saw the momentary flash of pain in her eyes, before it was replaced by a building pleasure.  He gave her a moment to adjust, whispering words of love and encouragement and stroking her soft, silky hair.

"The worst of it is over, luv.  Now comes the good part," he promised.

"It's all good when I'm with you," she told him, reaching her head up to capture his lips in another passion-filled kiss.

She was tight, so tight, that even the smallest movement was difficult in the beginning, but as he began to move gently back and forth, her natural juices started to make his movements easier.  Soon he established a fast, pounding rhythm, and he felt himself rushing quickly towards his climax.  He slowed for a moment, changing his angle so that now when he entered her, his cock brushed past her G-spot each time.  Hearing her breathing increase to a fevered pant and her soft moans, he knew that she was getting close as well.

He broke away from her lips, bringing his mouth to her breast and began to nip at it lightly.  Grabbing the nipple with blunt teeth, he bit down gently, slowly increasing the pressure until it bordered on pain.  The extra stimulation was enough to send Willow over the edge, and with a scream, she came hard, her body thrashing and her walls pulsing and squeezing his cock.  Spike came with a roar, pushing into her one last time as he shot his seed deep within her.

They lay together, her breath ragged and fast, his non-existent.  "Wow," Willow said softly, once she was again capable of speech.  "That was amazing."

"That it was, my love, that it was."

The End

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