EMAIL: lisayd@swbell.net
SUMMARY:  Picks up right after WASWAWA leaves off...
RATING:  R for adult subjects
DISTRIBUTION:  my site at  http://www.9ug.com/members/lisay/btvs-splash.html. Everyone who has archived WASWAWA and this story.  Anyone else, just ask and I'll surely say yes.
SPOILERS: Season 3 up through Choices--wth special emphasis on Dopplegangland
DISCLAIMER:  Guess what?  I don't own any of them--I'm just borrowing them for my sick and deluded purposes--my ongoing mission to meld Spike into the demon I like--not Joss' parody--oops, wrong soapbox.  Everything in this story except the plot belongs to Joss Whedon, Fox, WB, and Mutant Enemy. The plot--as shallow as it may be--is mine.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Well, I did it for all those who begged me for a sequel. Let me warn you all--I have no clue as to where this is going or if its
even going anywhere.  In the midst of me finishing He's Back, I had a need to write some Willow/Spike fic and season 4 is just not inspiring me so
far.  So, I have to go back.
FEEDBACK:  Of course--need you ask?  I especially would like to know if this is what you all wanted and if you have any ideas as to where I should
go with this--feel free to let me know.  I'll need all the help I can get.
DEDICATION:  This goes to all those who begged for a sequel. Charity--everyone else.  I hope this fills that need and I pray that I don't let you guys down.  Also, I need to thank my betas - Fenchurch and Rebecca - for looking over this and keeping me on my toes when it comes to those pesky verbs and missing words!  You guys are great! And last but not least...Laure & Saber--for loving W/S & B/S as much as I do.
SPECIAL AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I got inspired in the middle of writing chapter two--it just hit me.  I couldn't leave the other dimension alone and I
wanted something fun for our slayer.  For you W/Sers--I hope you hope you bare with me and enjoy the story...its bound to be as nutty as the first
the one--that I promise you.  And believe, in this instance, there's enough of Spike to go around...<beg!>

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Angel asked her as his fingers tightened around her arm, stopping her just short of entering the library.

Willow sighed, having no idea what to say. Was she okay? Well, if her heart-rate was indication, she would have to say no. Would she survive? Short of Buffy staking her, she would have to say yes.

Now, if only she could get her knees to unlock and begin the arduous task of walking again, everything would be just peachy.

"Yes," she said softly, watching his eyebrow lift in question. "Well, not totally—but I have to do this," she said softly. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she looked back to the closed library doors and shuddered.

She so did not want to go in there. What was she going to say? "Oz is in there, isn't he?"

Angel nodded once—his eyes never leaving hers.

She finally shut them, unable to stop the tears that filled them. Goddess, she hated the fact that she was going to hurt him. No one deserved it, and yet, if she stayed with him—it would be like lying—to him, herself and Spike.

"He's coming out here," Angel said, his body stiffening in response to Oz's presence as he backed away from the door, pulling on Willow's arm.

Willow stumbled backwards, her eyes glued to the door and not even five seconds later, her boyfriend stepped out.

"Willow!"

Grinning, she stepped forward out of Angel's grasp, opening her arms for him, never once thinking that Oz would be able to smell Spike's scent on her.

Just as her hands locked around his waist, she heard a low-level rumbling coming from his chest. Almost immediately, she felt herself being pushed away—

She would've fallen down if Angel hadn't caught her in time.

"I smell him on you," Oz whispered, his eyes dark as he glared at her.

Her eyes shut, unable to see his pain—already feeling it in her soul as she nodded slowly. "I know," she whispered as her eyes opened.

Angel cleared his throat as he glanced at the couple. "Willow, why don't I give you two some privacy—I'll just wait around the corner until you're ready to go inside."

Willow nodded, her eyes never leaving Oz's pained ones. After nearly a minute, she dropped her gaze and stared at the floor—suddenly unsure of what to say next.

"You slept with him, didn't you?"

She nodded, inwardly wondering if she should even touch the other Spike issue...

"Was it by choice? Did he—did he hurt you?"

Shaking her head, she looked up at the ceiling and sighed softly. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Were you even going to tell me?"

Nodding her head yes, she looked over at him. "That was the plan. I owe you that—so much more than that. I wish I could say I was raped—which I was—well, I guess I was and I was almost really raped by Angelus—"

"Angel?"

She saw his face pale and began shaking her head. "No the other Angel—in the other world—lost his soul like our Angel and was Angelus and last night he came by and I thought he was Angel," she paused, taking a deep a breath as her fingers brushed by the bite marks Angelus left. They still hurt—unlike the ones left by the Spikes.

He pulled her hand away from her neck and gasped softly. He gently turned her neck and groaned softly at the other pair—made by the Spikes. "Willow—what happened? How?"

Willow blinked away her tears as she shook her head ruefully. How could she explain all of it and Spike without sounding like a crazy woman? Was it even possible?

"Short version or long version?" She asked as she slid down the wall and sat down, leaning against it, wrapping her hands around her knees.

"Short," Oz said, sitting next to her.

Taking one last deep breath in preparation, Willow told him—as short of a version as possible.

It took her nearly fifteen minutes.

By the time she finished speaking, Oz was pacing in front of her—alternatively squeezing his fists and growling softly—shooting her looks mixed with admiration, hurt, anger and resignation.

And then she waited for his reaction.

He finally stopped moving and dropped down to a crouch in front of her. After taking her hand in his and wiping her wet face, he waited for her to look up.

Once their eyes met, he leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek, stood up and walked away. She watched him the entire time he walked down the hall to the exit doors—her eyes never leaving his back until he disappeared through the double doors.

"Oh Goddess, it hurts," she said as her chest tightened. She didn't even hear Angel's approach until she felt his cool arms wrap around her, pulling her to her feet. "It hurts so much, Angel. It's almost as if my heart got broken by breaking his." She turned into his arms and buried her head into his coat as deep, heart-wrenching sobs shook her body.

"Shhh, it's okay, Willow," Angel whispered as he began moving down the hall to an opened classroom. Slipping inside, he walked backwards until his legs hit the side of the teacher's desk. Glancing at the clear corner, he sat down and pulled Willow closer, holding her tightly as she finally let out her emotions.

He wasn't too surprised by her tears and knew that they weren't just because of Oz, either. Before the three of them had left the other world, Spike had pulled Angel over and in his own manic way, asked Angel if he thought it was normal for Willow to have remained basically tear-free through out this whole ordeal.

Angel shook his head, instantly remembering at least two different occasions when he'd seen Willow cry and knew by what Buffy had told him, those weren't the only times the red-haired witch allowed herself the comfort of crying.

It wasn't normal and he told Spike as much. It was then that Spike asked Angel if he could keep an eye out on Willow—especially when she confronted Oz and the rest of her friends; he was almost certain it would be then she would break down.

Angel had to shake his head in amazement on how right on the money his childe had been. It still floored him when Angel could see the love the blond vampire had for Willow—in his eyes, his actions—in everything that he did.

The souled vampire always knew his childe could love—his devotion to Dru was a shining example as to how different Spike was to other demons—but to love a human—with a soul no less—was still nothing short of extraordinary.

It was a wonder that the Judge didn't zap him to Hell the year before like the blue demon had done to Dalton.

After nearly ten minutes, Willow's sobs lessened and he could feel her getting restless. Relaxing his hold, he leaned back enough to watch her—just to be sure. Smiling self-depreciatingly, Willow wiped her wet face, sniffling hard as a deep red blush covered her face.

"I'm sorry, Angel—"

"Willow, there's nothing to be sorry for. It's been a rough week—it's expected. You're human, after all," he added softly.

She nodded as she stepped out of his embrace and straightened her shoulders. "I need to run to the ladies room and then I should be okay. Walk with me?"

He nodded and pushed himself off the desk. Holding out his arm, she slipped hers through at the elbow and together they walked to the restroom.

"Willow!"

The young hacker nearly fell over when both Xander and Buffy ran over to her and hugged her tightly. Feeling her eyes water once again, she closed her eyes—unable and unwilling to hide how much she missed their presence in the past week. Was it just two hours ago that she was in a room, just like this one, forging a tentative friendship with Buffy's double all the while Amy beguiled her with tales of the Hellmouth—their Sunnydale?

It seemed so surreal to her, a part of her wondered if any of it really happened.

But it had.

Willow wouldn't have broken Oz's heart just minutes before if it had been a dream and Angel wouldn't have been standing behind her—almost as if he was Willow's personal body guard—if their adventure into that other world had just been a figment of her imagination.

And if that wasn't enough to remind Willow of the real facts, Buffy's strangled reaction to the double pair of bite marks marring Willow's pale neck, would have been.

"Oh my God, Willow—who did this? Are you okay—you're still warm—not a vamp—Angel—what the hell happened to Willow?"

"Buffy," Willow leaned back, catching Xander's hand in the air just as he was getting ready to touch her wounds, "I'm okay. Still human and a lot better than I could be."

"Wills, who did this?"

"Deadboy—I thought you were supposed to protect her!"

"I say, Ms. Rosenberg, it appears that you were quite lucky to get out of there alive—"

"Harris—"

"Where's Oz? Did you talk to him?"

"Willow, I like the look—did you finally get rid of those Sears rejects?"

"I'm glad you're back, Willow."

Groaning softly, she let herself be led to the table and sat down—not too surprised to notice that Buffy had yet to let go of her arm. Xander tried to sit on her other side, but Angel managed to snatch the seat away from him.

Feeling exhausted and missing Spike more and more as the night wore on, Willow yawned softly—waiting patiently for everyone to calm down enough for her to speak.

That took another five minutes.

Grinning, she looked around the table and felt herself blush—still amazed that this many people could care for her and miss her. She just hoped that it would stay that way, once she finished telling them exactly what happened to her in her doppelganger's world.

Goddess, give me strength, she silently prayed as she snuck a glance at Angel. He reached over and squeezed her arm and Willow sighed, thankful for his support. She would need it—for that she was sure.

Clearing her throat, she looked around the room and noted that everyone had quieted down. Thank goddess...

"Oz went home—I talked to him in the hallway. He wasn't feeling too good," Willow said, hating that she had to lie—but knowing she couldn't start the night by telling everyone she broke the werewolf's heart.

It wouldn't go over too well.

"So, Wills—who bit you?"

Willow looked over at Xander and silently cursed him for starting there—instead of at the beginning—where she wanted to start.

Instead of answering him, she shook her head at him and turned her attention to Giles—once again relying on his strength and compassion to hear her story.

"First of all, I'm okay. It could've been a lot worse—but it ended up working out. For awhile, we weren't sure if I was going to make it back here human."

"What do you mean? Why did the other Willow take you?" Buffy asked, squeezing her hand gently.

Sighing for the millionth time that evening, Willow found herself chuckling softly. "How 'bout I start at the beginning?"

Giles slipped off his glasses and began cleaning them. "I think that would be a good idea, Willow."

"You guys know that she took Spike a week before she got me, right?"

"Yeah, what was up with that, Wills?" Xander asked, downing the last of his soda. "Why both of you?"

Willow felt her mouth curl up in a smile as she met Xander's eyes. "She wanted love life advice and our Spike was the best person, in her mind, to give it."

"What?" Buffy asked, her hand dropping from Willow's. "What kind of advice?"

Willow looked over at Angel, absently noting his grin and lifted her eyebrow in question at him. He nodded—giving her the go ahead.

"The other Buffy arrived in Sunnydale—only two years too late. She freed Angel—and like here, they became intimate. It just happened a bit more quickly there.

"He lost his soul and Angelus returned with a vengeance. The big difference there though, was Willow had tortured the souled-Angel for over a year and even before she had been turned, Angel tried looking after her. Since there was no Buffy to help—he found himself drawn to Willow. Once Angelus returned, he claimed Willow—throwing Xander out of the lair—stirring up trouble, etc. We all know Angelus, right?"

Everyone nodded except Wesley, who cleared his throat. "But Ms. Rosenberg, what does this have to do with you and Spike?"

"I'm getting there. Willow was drawn to Angelus—maybe loved him—I don't know. But she was and still is, in love with Spike. Her Spike. Dru never had that restoration spell, so she died and Spike came back about the same time Angelus returned."

"I think I see where this is going," Cordelia said, looking up from her nails. "Skanky Willow was—is—sleeping with both of them, right? And because we all know how much Spike and Angelus hated each other—she had to hide it from both of them, right?"

Willow nodded, hearing Angel clear his throat. "She wanted both of them and it was getting nearly impossible to keep them separate, so in her infinite wisdom, remembering our Willow, decided to bring our Spike over to give love life tips."

Buffy squealed indignantly, shooting up in her chair. "All this so she could bop two vampires at the same time?"

"Yep," Willow said, nodding her head in agreement. "So, you can imagine how pissed off Spike—our Spike—was. Luckily for me, and us I guess, he really didn't care for the vampire Willow too much. Once she got what she needed from Spike, she pulled me through to her world—so that I could approach the other Giles and what they called the White Hats—to find the spell to send us home." She looked down at her hands, feeling her nervousness return as she was inching closer to the part of the story that had to do with Spike and her.

What if they hate me? she asked herself. How could I explain this to them? How would Xander understand?

"That isn't all of it, is it Willow?"

Willow lifted her head and met Giles' knowing look and shook her head. "No, it isn't," she whispered as she pulled away from Buffy and stood up. Pacing in front of her friends, she looked up and met Angel's concerned eyes and took a deep breath. "Well, as simple as her plan was—it—it definitely had flaws. Like, how I was going to approach their Giles in the first place without dying from a stake wound or how, once I convinced the 'White Hats' of my sincerity, to keep that Buffy—who was so much darker and angrier than I our Buffy—from dusting Spike...you see? It was hard and the only place I was relatively safe was with our Spike because of Angelus' obsession with Willow—human or otherwise and the Master's desire to have two Willows as his childer—"

"You slept with him, didn't you?" Cordy interrupted, apparently already putting two and two together.

"Cordelia!" Xander snapped. "Our Willow wouldn't do that!"

"With Spike?" Buffy asked. "Never!" she said, snorting very unladylike.

Silently cursing the cheerleader, Willow nodded slowly. "I love him," she said softly, her head falling as hot tears fell down her cheeks. "And I didn't know if I was going to ever get back here and the other Giles didn't find the spell until last night and all those nights I spent there wondering who was actually going to turn me because if we didn't find a way home. Spike and I had already discussed staying together and turning me when we found find the soul restoration spell and by then we both admitted to each other that underneath all the death threats and kidnapping and cross-waving, there was a strong, real deep underlying attraction thing going—so deep that he actually left Dru willingly the second time and tried drinking me out of his system in Mexico...and here we were in another world where Willow and Spike were in love and it just seemed to reaffirm our feelings for one another—like it wasn't a fluke or just because of us being in a different world—that it was meant to be and that if we did get back, that we were going to continue this relationship—wherever that may lead us," she said nearly out of breath.

For nearly a minute, a deathly quiet blanketed the room. Willow lifted her head and looked at Angel—getting strength from his quiet, but strong support. He held out his hand and she grabbed it gratefully, taking small comfort in its coolness and missing with all her heart the cool hand she really wanted to be holding.

Please don't let me lose my friends...not after all the hassle and pain we went through to get back here, she silently prayed.

Still looking at her and Angel's clasped hands, Willow sighed softly. "On the bright side, the other Amy told me where to find the spell to de-rat her. She said that maybe with her verbal okay, it might be enough for the goddess to allow me to see the spell. I'm going to try in a couple of days."

"So, those bite marks are Spike's?" Buffy asked, her voice controlled and strained.

Why did she sound so much like the other Buffy?

Swallowing hard, Willow shook her head. "Only one set. The other two belonged to the other Spike and Angelus."

"She almost died last night," Angel said quietly, dropping Willow's hand as he stood up and walked over to Buffy. "Angelus found out where Spike and Willow were staying. He followed me, I guess. And he played me—got her outside—and kidnapped her. Luckily, the other Buffy found them and called Giles who in turn called our Spike and told us where Angelus had taken her.

"We got there just as he was draining her. Spike nearly ripped his head off. The only thing stopping either of us from dusting him was that it wasn't our world to interfere in. Willow ended up okay and we went to see Giles and discovered that he found the spell to bring us home."

"Why in the hell didn't you stop Fangboy from touching her?" Xander yelled, shooting out of his chair and throwing himself onto Angel. "Isn't that why we sent you there in the first place?"

"Xander! Leave Angel out of this! It isn't his fault—"

By this time Xander was trying to wrap his hands around Angel's throat while Angel held him off. "It was too late, Harris!" he said, plying the human's fingers off him. "They had already been intimate by the time I got there!"

Buffy came around and pulled Xander away from Angel as her eyes flittered back and forth between Willow and Angel. "Sit down, Xan," she ordered, pushing him towards his chair. She walked over to stand in front of Angel. "Why didn't you stop it once you found out about it?" she asked.

Willow shivered at the fake calmness in her friend's voice.

"Because he loves her, Buffy."

"I find out that hard to believe," Wesley said as he stood up. "Soulless demons cannot love."

Willow snorted, shaking her head in defiance. "Bull. They just chose not to love humans. It's not very healthy to get too cozy with your food source, is it? Would we still eat beef if we could carry on conversions with cows?"

"Willow," Giles said, exasperation lacing his voice. "That's besides the point. It's the soul that enables a being to love—"

"That's wrong too, Giles. Explain serial killers and other psychopaths. They have souls and yet they don't love," she said as she turned her attention to Buffy. She walked over to her friend and reached for her hand. Ignoring Buffy's flinch, she squeezed it tightly. "Buffy, I know that you feel bad about not being able to protect me. But you did. Your other self saved my life. The other Spike—he didn't want to kill me or turn me. He just wanted to play. And, looking back, if I hadn't been with our Spike, that experience could've been a lot worse. Because, the moment the opportunity arose, the other Spike was going to do what he did. He was just waiting for the right moment to get me alone so he could—could do the th—things he did."

Buffy's eyes softened as they filled with tears. Pulling their clasped hands towards her, she then wrapped Willow in her arms as she cried. "Oh Wills, I'm so sorry. It must've been horrible for you and here I am throwing a fit instead of showing you how much I love you and need you," she said as she pulled back and meeting Willow's eyes. "I just know Spike and he's dangerous and I don't want him to hurt you."

Willow gave her a small smile as she nodded. "I know. He explained it to me this way—he actually attributes his ability to see certain people as people and not as Happy Meals with Legs to you. He said that his deal with you last spring was what broke through that wall of his. And once that happened, everything else fell into place. At least into our place. Between your alliance and Angelus' reign, he changed. He's still a demon, but he won't hurt any of us now—because of me. He's coming back. He called me tonight. He said that he'd help us with the Ascension if you promise not to stake him."

Buffy looked over Willow's shoulder at Angel. "Do you believe him?"

Angel sighed, leaning against the table. "I wouldn't have unless I had went there myself. It wasn't until I saw both that Spike and our Spike together did I actually see the differences. They're subtle, but they are there. The other Spike is the Spike that I remember from a hundred years ago. Cruel, ruthless, impatient, funny, devoted to those he loves. Our Spike is all that too—but he's more. He's—he's—"

"He's what, Deadboy?" Xander interrupted, glaring at all three of them. "A cold-blooded demon that's going to kill us all when we have our backs turned? I can't believe you did this, Willow!"

"Xander! Shut up!" Cordelia snapped, standing up and gathering her things. "Need we remind you of the Inca Mummy Girl and the giant insect lady? As far as I can tell, at least Willow's chosen a demon with class."

Willow pulled away from Buffy and walked over to Xander. Kneeling in front of him, she took his hands in hers. "Xander, you don't have to trust him. Just trust me."

His head fell back as he stared at the ceiling. "What about Oz, Wills? He was worried sick about you?"

Once again her eyes watered as she nodded. "I know, Xander. I talked to him out in the hall. I actually talked to his double about this and his double was right. There was something wrong with us if I kept straying. You, Spike...he knew this—he knew this before but just didn't want to deal with it. I guess I just kinda forced the issue."

"Are you sure, Willow? Do you really trust him?"

"With my life."

"What about ours?"

"That too. I trust him."

Vampires usually don't dream. It's not that they can't—but the reasons behind dreaming are very human—psychological. So, when Spike found himself dreaming of the Slayer—he was quite taken aback.

To say the least.

Up until two weeks before, his unlife had not necessarily been easy, but had been predictable for the most part. At least according to Spike's standards. For the last hundred years, he had lived for his Dark Princess—caring for her—nurturing her and indulging her madness. And for the last thirty years, since Prague, he had taken care of her physical being as well.

Even after his princess died, his life followed the normal paths of a master-vampire. He came back to Sunnydale, fell hopelessly in love with Willow and fought his sire for her affections.

And then came his other self.

Someone who looked exactly like him, talked like him, was him—but wasn't.

His other self had changed. But then if he had to endure the pain of Dru's rejection coupled with paralysis and his sire's abuse, maybe he would've changed as well. At least that's what his other self said.

The other Spike said a lot of other things about his world: the slayer—who looked exactly like his slayer, but fought with hope in her eyes, broke every rule ever made for slayers and lived a full life, despite her calling. And Spike got to meet and get to know (up close and personal) the other Willow; a human with a kind, gentle and accepting soul who managed to tame even his cold heart.

His counterpart told Spike of a world where the Hellmouth had remained closed, the Master never rose and Angelus had been sent to Hell. A world where darkness still remained, but was balanced by the light.

It was a world that Spike secretly wished he could live in.

He didn't like winning this war between good and evil. He liked the battle and the chaos that each fight brought. He loved the taste of violence that seeped into the air—the thrill of victory within his grasp or the horror of defeat once it was ripped from his fingertips.

That's where the challenge was—in the battle. Not in the win—never the win. If evil did win, the world would be dark and he would be no one—just a lowly peon in the echelons of Hell. Here, in this world, he was Spike, William the Bloody, Childe of Angelus, Order of Aurelius.

He was somebody.

So, within a two-week period of time, not only had Spike defied his sire by continuing to bed Willow and saving the human-Willow, but he had spent enough time with his sire's souled double and his other self, to prod him into questioning things...such as his loyalty to the Master and his sire, Angelus. And his insistence on remaining intimate with Willow, when she couldn't even make a choice between himself and Angelus.

Even helping to perpetuate a war in which he was on the winning side but had no desire to see it reach its conclusion.

And if that wasn't enough, he began lusting for a human lover. Not as a slave or a future meal—but as a mate, like his other self had with the human Willow.

Gods, she was glorious. Her hot skin scorched his cool body—her blood burned him every time he took a precious sip. Her very essence touched him in a way that he had nearly forgotten about in the two hundred years he had been one of the night.

It was the human Willow Spike had been thinking of when he had turned in for the day, which was why he had been so shocked to find himself dreaming of the Slayer.

And it was a strange dream—more like flashes or scenes of a movie of her life. Snapshots of her growing up—pigtails to breasts to cheerleading outfits—to the day her watcher, the infamous Merrick found her.

He saw he stake her first vampire—fight her calling, despite her own dreams and inner feelings. He watched as she witnessed Merrick die in her place and how she eventually faced Lothos, and staked him as well. The burning of school gym...the endless fights with her parents...their divorce...

And then, that's where the dream got funny.

Suddenly, he was seeing two lives, instead of one. A flash of a tired, almost beaten slayer facing death daily—alone. That shot was quickly replaced by another one of young, happy dark-blond slayer, with two friends by her side. Spike recognized her companions right off—having known their vampiric counterparts intimately: Xander and Willow.

As each scene flashed before him, he began to understand the meaning...each life is a choice—a road taken or not taken—opportunities gained or lost—for the better or for the worse.

When Spike had finally woken up, he wasn't nearly as shocked at finding himself somewhere different than where he went to sleep...

Instead of being covered by his cool, satin sheets in his comfortable bed, he found himself propped up against a door, deep in the recesses of a doorway in an alley—the warm spring winds blowing in his face—in a world that wasn't his own.

"Finally!" Spike yelled out as he ran over the Welcome to Sunnydale sign for the third time. Throwing the car in reverse, he backed up and pulled the car back onto the road—slamming it in drive, drumming the steering wheel with his fingers in time with the music blaring out of his speakers.

His blood burned with anticipation the closer he came to his mate. The last 24 hours had been tedious and nerve-wracking. All he could think about was Willow's warm body and how it would feel to have her wrap her legs around his waist as he slid into her hot, tight hole.

Satan help him, he was as horny as sex-starved teenager staring at a naked woman's body. Damnit to hell, but nothing seemed to calm the lust and anxiety. Not feeding, not whacking off—not thinking about a naked Master going down on that imbecile of his, Luke—nothing could calm the raging hard-on he had for Willow.

How the hell did he make it through the last 200 hundred years without her?

It was like a fire that raged inside of his dead body—this need to have her. He felt incomplete—less than he was before, when she was by his side. Was it because he fed from her and not drained her? Or could it be something as simple as love?

He didn't know and at this point, he really didn't give a shit. All he knew was he was only five minutes from her house and soon she would be in his arms again.

And nothing beyond that seemed to matter.

"I'm coming, Red," he whispered to himself as turned down Willow's street. "I'm coming home."

Yawning, Willow re-read the spell for the tenth time and sighed softly.

She was bored.

And anxious.

Ever since she had woken up earlier that morning, she felt antsy and nervous—as if something was missing in her life, but she had no idea what it was.

It was driving her crazy.

By the time school ended, she all but ran out of the building and headed straight over to Amy's father's house. Getting the key that was hidden under the flowerpot, she opened the door and went straight to her friend's bedroom. There, sitting in plain sight on her desk, was the witch's Book of Shadows. Taking a deep breath, Willow slowly opened the book while murmuring a small prayer to the goddess and nearly did a Snoopy dance when she noticed the once blank pages were now filled with Amy's familiar scrawl.

The other Amy's verbal okay had done it.

After gathering a change of clothes for her friend, she stuffed both the book and the garments into her backpack and left the house, locking the door behind her.

She then returned back to school—wanting to show Giles the spell as well as going through the painful process of facing her friends.

Luckily for her, she had managed to avoid any painful conversations with Xander, Buffy and Cordelia—but Willow was no fool. She knew that sooner or later, she would have to face them and Oz and deal with the consequences of her actions.

She understood Buffy's misgivings and if the situation had been reversed, Willow knew she wouldn't have welcomed Spike with open arms. It was only logical that Buffy was wary—it was actually good that she felt that way. It kept everyone a bit safer.

It was Xander that had Willow worried.

Ever since Jesse had been turned, Xander was very cut and dry in his approach to vampires. Vampires were bad. Humans were good. Vampires must die. Humans must live.

Simple, but not totally true. And besides, Willow thought it had more to do with Angel than anything else. Her friend had been so jealous of the souled-vampire for so long, that it clouded his judgment about vampires in general.

Or maybe it was one of those things that vampires do—but in reverse. Spike admitted that before his deal with Buffy, he had never really looked at humans as anything other than a tasty food source. Maybe what Xander was doing was looking at all vampires as bad, so that was easier to kill them—less likely to get emotionally attached to something that could very well suck your blood out.

Groaning, she tossed the book aside and fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as her mind continued to dredge up everything she really didn't feel like dealing with.

First of all—there was her anxiety. More than once, Willow wondered if she was being affected by some weird vampire bite thingie—considering that in less than a week, she had been bitten by three different vampires. Or maybe it was because two of those said vampires weren't of this world and they left some sort of otherworld-ness with her.

Or it could be that she just missed Spike a lot more than she had thought possible.

Spike.

Her heart jumped as her stomach fluttered, thinking of the way he had her feel. Safe, protected, loved—even understood. A true companion. What was she going to tell her mother? Goddess, she could just see Sheila's face when she brought Spike home to meet them.

Willow chuckled softly, remembering her mother's reaction when she found out Willow was dating a musician.

"Well mom, the musician's gone. I've moved on to better things. No more werewolves for me. Now it's vampires," she whispered to herself as she turned to her side to stare out the set of French doors.

"Where are you, Spike?" she whispered to herself, unable to stop the errant tear from slipping out of her eye. "I miss you."

Buffy leaned against the headstone and stared up into the starlit sky and sighed audibly as her mind once again went over the events of Willow and Angel's adventure into the alter-world.

It was mind-boggling.

Not only were Willow and Spike in love, but of all the crazy things, Angel gave it his okay.

Buffy shook her head in amazement and prayed Angel had called this one right. Because, if he hadn't and Willow got hurt—heads were going to roll. And not just by Buffy's hand. For two hours, after Angel had walked Willow home, she had to listen to Xander scream, rage and yell and scream some more about Willow's involvement with the peroxide boy-wonder.

And even though Buffy could understand his misgivings, by the end of the two hours, she was ready to stake Xander herself. He was so obtuse sometimes. Blinded by anger and prejudice—he was definitely of the school that couldn't see the forest for the trees.

Xander knew, just like the rest of the Scooby Gang, that Spike—even at his most evil—was different than most vampires. He didn't do things because it was expected of him. He didn't follow the rules. He loved completely and fully—with all his demon heart.

He was an anomaly in the vampire world, just like she was one as the slayer.

Her eyes misted at that thought and found herself thinking about how alone she truly was. Not even in an alternate reality, was her other self like her. From what Willow had told her, the other Buffy was hard and cold—filled with anger and hatred. Willow went so far as to say the other Buffy reminded her of Faith in a sense—the way she kept apart from everyone else. Never allowing her shields to go down. Hate, instead of compassion, seemed to be the other Buffy's motivation.

But she did fall in love with her Angel. A broken Angel, but still Angel.

And he still lost his soul.

Some things never change, Buffy thought to herself. Damn gypsies probably pulled that off in every world. What a thought. Multiple Angel/Angelus' cursed until they experienced one moment of true happiness...

Groaning softly at herself, she purposely pushed away all thoughts of the curse from her mind and went back to thinking about the other Buffy.

It was pretty obvious that her other self had dealt with her calling even worse than Buffy had. Maybe the Watchers weren't too far off in their attempts to find potential slayers before they were called—to prepare them for their eventual losses. Teach the young girls how to work alone and to not need anyone. Buffy knew, without a doubt, that if she hadn't had the continued support and love of Giles, Willow, Xander, her mother, and Angel—she would've become just as hard as Faith was now.

Her friends and family were her strength.

If what Buffy suspected about her other self was true, she didn't have the support and love in her life that Buffy had.

Buffy knew that her friends were her lifeline. More than once in the past few years, she had whispered her thanks to God for giving her Xander, Willow, Giles and Angel.

Without them, she would've given up a long time ago.

The other Buffy was really, completely alone.

Shivering slightly, Buffy sighed as she hopped off the headstone and headed out of the cemetery to her next stop—Oak Hill Cemetery.

Although Buffy wasn't alone like her counterpart, her social life really could use a definite pick-me up. For a while, she had Faith to keep her company. The other slayer's defection hurt Buffy much more than she ever let on. Faith, like Angel, understood Buffy in a way that only someone who walked the fence between the light and dark could.

And before Faith—well it had been a lonely nine months or so.

It used to not be so bad—before Angel had lost his soul. Back then, he would patrol with her and keep her company—fill in the quiet times with flirtatious banter and wonderful smoochies.

But that was a long time ago, she thought to herself as her eyes kept sweeping her surroundings. Now I'm lucky if we can sit down and talk without all these issues coming in between us. Soul lossage, Hell, Angelus, sex...

Buffy had no idea where or what she and Angel were—even after all these months. She knew she loved him and he loved her, but was there a boy-girl type relationship there? Not really. They, as a couple, seemed to fall in this strange area of in between. Not dating, but not really, not dating.

All Buffy knew was that it was a lonely way to go even if she had someone that loved her with all his heart. Smoochies were long ago jinxed and stashed into the 'not-a-good-idea' category—along with any type of affection for fear that it would lead to smoochies which in turn would lead to Angel getting a happy. After Angel and Buffy exposed Faith, communication between them diminished even further.

And despite all of this, she knew without a doubt, that he still loved her and she still loved him. But what she didn't know was how much longer they could remain in this awful limbo they had been staying in for so long.

Something had to break. Buffy just hoped it wasn't their restraint—the world did not need Angelus, the Scourge of Europe to become active again.

And Buffy didn't need the emotional pain that came from killing him again either.

"Bloody fucking hell," a clipped, British accented voice echoed eerily in dark. "What the—" he muttered as his dark blue eyes fluttered open and found himself staring up into the open sky.

Not only was he not at the same place he went to sleep at, but his mind was still muddled by those annoying dreams he had all day.

About the slayer and her life.

Why in hell was he bleeding dreaming about the slayer?

Growling softly, he scrambled to his feet—immediately recognizing the area where he had been dumped at as the alley running behind the Bronze.

But something was off. It just didn't feel right.

He slowly turned around in a circle, taking in everything and by the time he stopped, he fell back against the wall, stunned.

"Fucking hell," he muttered as he automatically felt his shirt pocket for his cigarettes only to discover that he wasn't wearing a shirt. His eyes widened comically as he looked down his body and only seeing a pair of black silk boxers and bare legs and feet.

"Mother fuck!" he yelled as he twirled about again. He was bloody naked and by the Bronze. He was by the Bronze. But not his Bronze. This wasn't his world. Bloody hell fucking shit if he didn't get pulled into his other self's world, just like they had been pulled into his. Game face on, he began pacing the alley as his mind began grasping errant facts...Bronze. Something about the Bronze and Angelus...no Angel—his sire's souled double. When Angelus' other self was in Spike's world, didn't he stay in that apartment by the Bronze?

"Yes!" Spike yelled as he took off in a run. And if he remembered Willow's directions right, the entrance was just down the alley and a half a block to his right.

At least there, he could get a change of clothes.

After he was clothed, he needed to feed and investigate. Find out what the fuck was going on and who he was going to have to kill to get back home.

He ignored that little voice that asked him if that's really what he wanted. He was too peckish, tired and pissed to really think about it.

Besides, his Willow was at home. And she was what he wanted, right?

It was the gentle tapping on the glass at her door that pulled Willow out of her light sleep.

Sitting up, her heart already racing uncontrollably, she looked over and smiled as she recognized who was standing on the other side of the glass.

"Spike?" she asked, scrambling out of bed and running over to the doors.

"Yeah love, it's me," he said as she threw the open and without preamble jumped into his arms. "Whoa—Red!" he said, laughing softly as she peppered soft kisses all around his face. "I take it you missed me?" he asked just before their lips met in a fiery kiss.

"Um hmm," she whispered as she pulled back far enough to peer into his laughing eyes. "Missed you terribly," she said as she lifted a finger and traced his scarred eyebrow. She leaned in and kissed him again. "Miss me?"

"Terribly," he said turning around and walking across the small balcony to lean against the house. "It was a long and lonely drive up here. I'm sorry it took so long. Bloody had a flat tire in the middle of the day. Had to pull over and take a snooze until it was safe to change it."

Her arms curled around his neck and leaned her forehead against his. "That's okay—you're here now. That's all that matters."

"So, are your parents gone?"

She nodded yes, but her face fell slightly. "I don't think we should—you know—do anything here though. Xander's got a key and he was pissed when I told him everything. And it's like Grand Central Station when they're gone..." She looked down at him. "I just don't want to be interrupted."

Taking an unneeded breath, he nodded slowly. "I've got an idea. Pack yourself a bag and bring your stuff for school tomorrow," he said as he dropped his hold on her, letting her legs slip down until she was standing on her own and guided her to the open doors. She walked through and he stood there, leaning against the doorway and watched her. "It may be a bit dusty—but the bomb shelter is still there."

Her eyes lit up as she nodded enthusiastically. "I like that place—well, the other place, but that place. You know, right?" She suddenly frowned as she realized that he hadn't come inside yet. "Oh, I'm sorry. Come in, Spike," she said as waved him through.

She watched as he walked through the doorway and plopped down on the bed—watching her pack her things.

Five minutes later, she was finished and turned around to face him, instantly spotting Amy's Book of Shadows lying next to him. Grinning, she ran over and picked up the book. "It worked! The other Amy's verbal okay worked and now I can see the spells. I copied the one I needed down and showed it to Giles. We're going to de-rat Amy tomorrow night! Isn't that cool?"

She watched as the blond vampire chuckled softly. "Come 'ere," he whispered as his hand caught hers and tugged her over to him. "Closer," he whispered once she was standing right night to him by the bed.

Her heart racing, she leaned over to kiss him when his hands slid around her, pulling her on top of his hard body. "I don't know if I can wait, love," he whispered as his mouth suckled gently on her neck. "Twenty-four hours is a long time..."

His cool fingers immediately slipped underneath her shirt, caressing her hot skin. Willow heard herself moan as her resolve weakened. Goddess, he was right. Twenty-four hours was a real long time, she thought to herself as his hand gently cupped her breast. Too long.

Buffy wasn't sure what tipped her off that she was no longer alone. One moment, she was leaning against a mausoleum, her eyes scanning the graveyard in front of her—the next she felt a presence.

A human presence.

Her senses picked out the person long before she saw or heard them and pushed herself off the concrete and walked slowly towards it.

"All right—whoever it is, don't you think it's a bit late to be playing in the cemetery?" Buffy called out, twirling the wooden stake in her hand.

"All depends on who it is, B."

"Faith," Buffy said, nodding at the slayer as her body tensed, ready for battle. "What brings you down to my neck of the woods? The mayor got you on grunge duty or something?"

Snorting, Faith shook her head—her dark hair blowing in the wind. "Something like that."

Buffy lifted an eyebrow as her stomach cramped slightly. "I see you brought some of your friends," Buffy said, her voice calm even though she felt a least a dozen vampires in the area. "Where are they?"

The dark-haired slayer leaned against the headstone, bracing her hands on it as she studied Buffy. "Well B, it's like this—we have a problem and I'm hoping that you can help us out."

"Us as in the Mayor and you?"

Faith lifted an eyebrow.

Buffy snorted as she shook her head. "Not likely," she said as she finally pinpointed where she felt the majority of vampires—they were off to her right—about ten yards away hiding in a mausoleum.

Damn, she thought to herself. The thing must have sewer access!

She leaned against one leg casually trying to peer over to the side...

Faith's leg shot up and Buffy's hand caught it, flipping the other slayer over.

Faith righted herself and landed on her feet.

At least a dozen vampires poured out of the mausoleum as Buffy and Faith began fighting in earnest.

Spike growled under his breath as he yanked his pants up and tightened the belt one more slot. "Bloody fucking sire is too fucking fat," he whispered to himself as he slipped the leather belt through the belt loop. "I hope I can find my other self around this fucking hell hole. At least then, I can get a decent set of threads."

But, he silently amended, at least the apartment was still there. Although it looked like Angel hadn't been there in over a year, at least Spike found a change of clothes in the midst of all the dirt and dust. And lady luck was still with him when he found Angel's stash of cash—the fucking fool was nothing if not habitual. Spike couldn't help but thank Dru's stars that his souled-other-world-sire followed the same patterns as his own sire did. The money was located under a loose floorboard by the bed—Spike couldn't remember how many times that habit of Angelus' had gotten his ass out of a load of shit.

And he got to eat—that was always a good thing. The kid was pretty tasty too. He couldn't remember the last time he gotten a taste of a human that wasn't totally touched by the darkness of the Hellmouth. In this Sunnydale, because the thing was still closed, human blood still carried a kind of innocence that was like ambrosia to the undead. The human Willow had it—despite her growing up on the Hellmouth. His last meal had it as well.

And the poor bloke had a full pack of cigarettes, which of course, Spike lifted from his dead body—knowing that the boy would have no further use for them. Marlboros to boot.

Grinning, Spike lit a cigarette and found himself wandering into one of the many cemeteries in Sunnydale, instinctively drawn by sounds of fighting and the presence of not just one, but two slayers. If his quiet, clean surroundings hadn't been enough to convince him of where he was, the existence of two slayers was.

Remembering what his other self and the human Willow told him about their world, he instantly spotted the two young women and just as he suspected, they were fighting one another—surrounded by a bunch of snarling vampires.

What a beautiful sight, he thought to himself as he watched the two women exchange blows. Almost immediately, he could pick out differences between this blond slayer and his slayer in his world. Where his Buffy fought with the efficiency and coldness not too different from his kind, this slayer not only felt different, but fought differently as well. She improvised—seemingly using everything within her grasp to get the job done. Despite the fight with the other slayer, she had managed to dust at least four vampires that tried to step into the fight. The remaining fledglings stayed back and watched—lust emanating from the bodies as the mortal women each drew blood.

Spike could feel himself hardening at that sight as well as flashes of his dreams that came to mind. The slayer facing the Master, Luke, Lothos—even himself.

Shaking his head, he was brought back to the fight as he felt the tension level among the other vampires. He looked up to see the dark-haired slayer pull a knife out of her jacket and wave it in front of her.

Shit, he thought to himself, cursing his luck. He had no idea what he should do. Normally, he would just join in on the fun—have himself a slayer-cocktail and go home. But this wasn't his world and the only people that could send him back were connected to the human Willow whose best friend was his slayer's double. Not to mention that as soon as he thought about drinking her blood, he pictured this slayer standing there with him talking to her mother—explaining to her that she and Spike were in a band...

"Where the hell did that come from?" he asked himself, knowing that memory wasn't his own, but somehow feeling it was important for him to remember. He looked up to see the blonde slayer glaring over at the brunette.

"Weapons, Faith? Are you scared?" the blond snapped as her foot shot out and kicked the other girl's leg, causing her to stumble. Unfortunately for Summers, the other slayer managed to keep her hold on the knife. "So the Mayor wants me dead, eh? And then what? Another will just gets called."

Wincing in pain, the dark-haired slayer shook her head. "Didn't you know, B? No one's going to get called after you die. You've already died once—the line begins after I die. You just fall away into oblivion," the one called Faith said, grinning maliciously.

"You lie, Faith. You're the useless one. You'll go down as the rogue slayer that couldn't even play at being evil right. You can't even fight me on your own—had to bring your little army in case you failed." Buffy snorted as she suddenly did a back flip and landed on a crypt behind her—and only a dozen feet in front of him. Making sure she didn't see him, he slipped behind a tree and watched as she shrugged her arm and a stake fell out into her hand. "So, you wanna know how Alan felt when you sunk your stake into his heart?"

She has spunk, Spike thought to himself as he watched the blond survey the area. He ducked behind the tree and stayed there for nearly a minute. Once he was sure he was in the clear, he peeked out behind the bark, he let out an unneeded sigh as he watched the blonde stand there like a goddess—looking down at the other slayer. Just as he asked himself why the other slayer hadn't thrown the knife yet, she suddenly did. And just as quickly, Buffy caught it in her hands, turned it around and instantly threw it into the heart of a vampire that was making his way towards her.

Unfortunately, the odds weren't in the blonde's favor. Suddenly, a shot rang out and Buffy stumbled backwards, falling off the crypt.

Before he could even question himself or his sanity, Spike felt his legs move as he ran over to the blonde's body—crouched low so no one could see him. He quickly scooped up the unconscious body and took off in a preternatural run—leaving the cemetery—heading straight for Angel's empty apartment.

He tried telling himself it was because she was his ticket home and into the Watcher's heart—so he could get back to his Willow.

But somewhere inside of him, he knew that was just fooling himself.

Whether it was the dreams he had the night before or the fact that here, in this world, he actually felt free, he didn't know—but something about this slayer tugged at him and his instincts screamed out that he needed her alive.

It wasn't until he was nearly a quarter-mile away from where the slayer had fallen, that he heard the other slayer's scream of frustration as it rang through the night.

Spike couldn't help but be amused.

He just loved pissing people off.

Willow moaned, arching her lower body into her lover’s cool wet embrace. "Oh Goddess, Spike..." she whispered as her body began spinning, pushing her closer to a climax.

His blunt teeth caught her nubbin and he sucked hard.

Willow screamed her release, her legs tightening their hold around his neck for nearly a minute as she rode out her climax. Finally, she relaxed and her legs fell on either side of her lover's. Grinning, he lifted his head and slowly inched his way up her body, stopping to kiss her stomach first and then each breast before finally settling himself in between her legs and his mouth above hers.

"Liked that, eh Red?"

Willow nibbled on her bottom lip and nodded. "What tipped you off?"

His head dipped down and ran his tongue across her lips. "Maybe it was the earth-shattering scream that I heard despite your thighs squeezing my head," he whispered before nipping at her bottom lip. Willow felt a quick sting and a warm trickle of her blood curl on her lips. After his tongue lapped at the blood, he maneuvered his cock to her entrance. "Or maybe it was your sweet juices—their essence filled with your ecstasy—"

Her eyes widened as she felt herself blush. It was a wonder she even remembered how to blush, she thought to herself. "You can taste that?" she asked, her voice nearly squeaking.

His chest rumbled as he pushed the head of his cock inside her. "Yep," he answered, smirking at her embarrassment.

Damn vampires, she thought to herself and suddenly gasped as he quickly thrust himself all the way inside her. Moaning, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his cool, hard body, tugging him even further into her body.

He groaned, his eyes flashing as his true face emerged—his golden eyes never leaving hers. "Willow," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and love. Willow leaned up and kissed him savagely, purposely cutting her lips on his fangs—feeling herself drawn to his demon.

This was what was missing, she thought to herself seconds before she he sunk his fangs into her neck, causing her body to clench around him as she experienced her second orgasm. He quickly followed her, shooting his cold seed up her womb as he yelled out her name.

"Home," she whispered as she hugged his body close to hers as he lapped the bite marks on her neck. "I'm finally home."

Spike lifted his head, game-face still on, and met her eyes. "I love you, Red. You are home to me."

Her eyes filled with tears as her face lit up with happiness. "So are you, Spike. So are you."

"Hey Slayer—wake up, cutie. You've got to open your eyes," Spike said, as he shook the slayer's uninjured shoulder. Luckily for the chit, the vampire that shot her wasn't very good at aiming. If slayers healed like vampires, the girl should be fine once the bullet was removed.

"Oh God that hurts! What train hit me?" she asked as her eyes fluttered open.

"Not a train, ducks. A bullet."

"Spike? What are you doing here? Not that I'm actually not happy to see you—but aren't you supposed to be over at Willow's? She's expecting you tonight."

Spike grinned as he stood up. "I'm going to the bathroom and see if I can dig up a clean rag or something to clean you off—"

"Where are we?" She asked, trying to sit up.

"Slay—Bu—Slayer—quit it! You need to stay down or you going to bleed all over the bloody place—"

"I—my God—why did you take me here?"

Spike turned around, hearing the panic in her voice and was shocked to see her already pale face nearly turn gray. "What do you mean?"

Her hazel eyes flashed at him and he swore he heard her growl back him. "You bastard! I can't deal with this now—I've got to get out of here!" With her uninjured arm, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and pulled her legs around to the side of the bed.

Spike ran over to her to stop her from thrashing around and had to dodge a left hook. He grabbed her wrist, his eyes flashing as a multitude of cursing flooded his mind. Bloody chit—do one good thing in 200 years and this is the thanks I get...

"Quit it! I didn't fucking save you for you to go back out there and die!"

"I didn't ask you for your help!"

"Well, fuck you—you're getting it!"

She snorted as she shook her head. "Spike—I have no idea what kind of drugs you're on—but Willow's expecting you and you need to be with her so I don't fucking stake your ass!"

He couldn't help it—he laughed. "I'm not your Spike," he told her in between chuckles. "So, get your panties out of that twist you got 'em in and deal with it!"

He turned around and started for the bathroom.

"Then whose Spike are you?" she asked quietly.

"No one's. Not any more."

"Huh?"

Ignoring her, he went into the bathroom and yanked open the linen closet, grabbing three towels and washrag. After dropping the washrag into the sink, he turned on the hot water, relieved to see the water was still clear and turned his attention to the medicine cabinet. Just as he hoped, this Peaches had a wide array of first-aid items and Spike grabbed them all and dumped them into the towel. Once that was done, he turned off the water, grabbed the washcloth and wrung it with one hand. Grabbing the liquid soap and dropping it into the towel with the other items, he walked back into the bedroom to see a stunned slayer watching him carefully.

Dropping the towels and supplies on the bed, he sat down next to her—facing her injured side. He dipped his head to look at the front of the shirt and growled softly when he noted it was a pull over.

"What?" she asked when he stood up to head for the kitchen.

He turned around. "I have to cut your shirt off you, Slayer, and unfortunately I don't have my trusty little knife with me—considering I was taken from my bed—"

"What?" she asked again as she shook her head in confusion. "I must be really slow in the uptake tonight because you're—" Her eyes widened as it finally sunk in what he had told her earlier. "You're that other Spike—the one that bit Willow!"

"Among other things," he added as he found a paring knife in the kitchen and tested its edge. A thin line of blood appeared on his pale wrist. Licking his wound, he turned back to the slayer glaring at him.

"You bastard!"

His eyebrow arched as a small smirked formed his lips. "And your point? She's fine—still alive and breathing, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"But what? You can't tell me that you wouldn't be a bit curious—"

"You forget—I already the pleasure of meeting the love of my life's alternate self. Not something that I want to do again."

He dipped his head in concession. "Okay—good point." He walked over and sat down next to her and pinched the cloth of shirt and poked a hole through it with the knife. Once he had the hole made, he slid the knife in and began cutting the material—going upwards. "But you can't tell me if you had a chance to shag the human version of Peaches, you wouldn't be the least bit curious?"

He heard her breath hitch as her skin turned a nice shade of pink.

Chuckling, he nodded. "That's what I thought," he said as he slowly began peeling the shirt off her back. He nearly groaned when he spotted her nice, firm breasts. Damn woman doesn't wear a bra in either dimension, he thought to himself as forced himself not to respond. Once the shirt was cut off, he handed it to her and immediately, she held it up over her breasts by her good arm.

"So, tell me, why are you here and more importantly, why in the hell did you save me? Not that I'm not grateful, because I am, but it just doesn't make any sense."

Chuckling softly, he nodded in agreement as he began cleaning her wound. "No, it doesn't. I don't know what happened, pet. This morning, I was went to bed, in my newly renovated warehouse—wearing only my black silk boxers—wrapped in my black satin sheets—"

"Black satin sheets?"

"Love them," he said as his eyes dropped the set of sheets covering the bed. "Just like my sire does—in either world."

Her eyes followed his and shut, but not before he could see a flash of pain cross them. After nearly a minute, she opened them and nodded to him. "Continue."

He wondered what it was about this place that got to her so badly and silently noted to ask her about it sometime. Probably has to do with Peaches, he thought to himself before taking an unneeded breath to finish his tale.

"I was still thinking about everything that had happened in the last few days. I actually was wondering what Angelus was going to do. I hadn't challenged him in a long time—and that's what I did when I showed up with your Spike and Angel to get your Willow out of there. Not to mention that my Willow and I had been seeing each other on the side since I had gotten there. And I'm pretty aggravated with Willow too. She can't bloody leave the prick alone. It's like he's got some sort of geis on her. Just like—" He stopped and shook his head.

"Just like Dru?"

He nodded once, ignoring the stab in his heart that always came when he thought about his Black Goddess. "And viola—I wake up, with only my boxers on, in that alley by the Bronze—but ironically, not in my world. In yours."

He stopped and stared at the wound. Luckily, the bullet had gone completely through. "Should I try and stitch this up, or what?"

She shook her head. "Nah, I'll have a scar either way. Might as well just wrap it up good and tight. It should be okay by tomorrow. At least mostly healed." She looked up and met his eyes. "So, why did you save me?"

He shrugged, dropping his eyes. "Don't want to piss off your watcher, do I love? He's my ticket home." He suddenly looked up at her as a big grin curled his lips. "And there was the added bonus of hearing that other slayer scream when she found out you weren't there."

Yawning, she let out a soft chuckle. "Too bad I missed that," she whispered, her eyes fluttering. Shaking her head, she pried her eyes open. "I need to get to the library and tell Giles."

He shook his head. "You need to sleep."

She pursed her lips as a frown formed on her lips. "Not here..."

"Do you have a phone, slayer?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Not even a pager. Stupid watcher’s stuck in the sixth century. It's a wonder that Giles even knows how to drive..." Spike watched as she slowly fell over on to her uninjured side, eyes closed. "Just a few minutes," she whispered in between yawns.

The vampire watched as the slayer's eyes finally shut and almost immediately her breathing slowed.

Despite her protests, she did fall asleep.

And Spike watched her.

After an hour of watching her, he finally couldn't take it any more.

Spike was sure he was losing it.

In small increments, of course.  But he saw the signs-they were right there in front of him—lying peacefully on the poof's bed-bandaged by him—at peace in his presence.

His presence.

Spike, William the Bloody, favorite childe of Angelus—killer of two slayers—was watching over a slayer as she slept.  And all because of some fucked-up, whacked-out dreams that even now-hours after he had awoken-were still flashing in his mind.

He knew why he had saved her.  What he wasn't too clear on was why he had bantered with her while cleaning her up or why he felt compelled to watch her sleep-to guard her.

"Damn dreams," he muttered to himself as he stood up and began to pace the perimeter of Poof's apartment.  His eyes landed on a pad of paper and a pen, lying on the coffee table and suddenly he had an idea.

Picking up the pen, he scribbled the slayer a note and set it by her head and quickly left the apartment.

Twenty minutes later he was standing in front of what he hoped was Willow's house.

Spike took one last drag off his cigarette and tossed it off to the side.  After taking a deep, unneeded breath, he scrambled up the trellis and jumped over onto the balcony by Willow's bedroom.

He really hoped that she still lived there.

And if this was her house, he really, really hoped that it was her bedroom door he was standing in front of with his knuckles poised to knock on the glass.

He couldn't help but wonder if his unlife could get anymore fucked up.

What the hell? was Spike's first thought when he felt the familiar presence edging its way into his senses.  He looked down at Willow and couldn't stop the grin that curled his lips.  Her eyes closed and deep in sleep-her mouth curved in a satiated smile.  No matter how much neither of them wanted to get caught naked in her bed, they just couldn't seem to keep their hands off of one another once they were alone.  One coupling led to another which inevitably led to a third.

She finally fell asleep—physically worn out by his vampiric endurance as well as her long, stressful day.

And now it's just going to get more stressful, he thought to himself as he slipped out from underneath her and grabbed his jeans.

Once he had his pants zipped, he grabbed his cigarettes and headed for the French doors, opening them before his counterpart could knock.

Closing the door behind him, Spike heard his double curse under his breath and chuckled softly.  Now the shoe's on the other foot, Spike thought to himself as he took in his other self's appearance as the vampire paced the length of the balcony.

What in the world is he doing here? Spike asked himself as he leaned against the house, studying the other Spike.

It was instantly obvious that whatever spell brought Spike to this world, that it had been done while he had been asleep.  Why else would he be wearing the poof's clothes?

Suddenly, his other self stopped muttering to himself and glared at Spike.  "I suppose you had nothing to do with this?" He asked as he shook out a cigarette and lit it.

Still grinning, Spike shook his head.

"Bloody hell-it was my lovely prick of a sire then.  The arsehole took me from my bleeding bed in the middle of the day and dumped me in an alley by the Bronze!"  His double snarled as his true-face flashed.  "Luckily I landed in a fucking doorway-still asleep, mind you-or I would've been dust before I realized what had happened. And then, get this-I look for my cigarettes and realize that all I've got covering my lily white ass is a pair of boxers!  I'm just glad I didn't leave my brains back there as well—I remembered that Angel's apartment was nearby and thank Satan the blasted thing was still there.  Did you know the Poof left money there?"

Spike couldn't help but snicker.  "Really?" he asked, his eyebrow shooting up.  "Under the floorboard by the bed?"

Smirking, his double nodded.  "Stupid prick—I wonder how much money's he's left behind like that?"

"Enough," Spike said as he looked out over the balcony.  "But, in this case, he wasn't quite himself."

Frowning, his double nodded for him to go on.

"It's where he lost his soul.  The slayer and he—"

His double's eyes widened and Spike watched his face as he suddenly nodded.  "That's why she got so bloody pissy—"

"Who?"

Snapping his fingers, the other Spike turned to him.  "That's why I came here—well among other things—I was wandering around after I got a bite to eat and ended up in one of the cemeteries—Oak Hill, I think."

Spike nodded, silently wondering if he should go and wake Willow up now or wait to hear what happened.  Remembering how peaceful she looked, he decided to wait.  "And?"

"And guess what I run into?  Both slayers at each other's throats.  Except the dark-haired one—Faith?"

"Yeah, I think that's her name.  Never met her. But Red hates her."

"Well, Faith brought with her a dozen or so vampires with her.  And when she realized that the slayer wasn't going down, one of them shot her."

Spike's mouth opened in shock.  Why hadn't he ever thought about that? He shook his head and realized it just wasn't his style. It just seemed so impersonal.  "Is she dead?"

His double shook his head.  "No, I did my one good deed of the century.  I grabbed her.  No one saw me do it and I took her back to the poof's.  It was a clean shot through the shoulder.  She's okay and asleep in the poof's bed as we speak."

Spike sighed as he flicked his cigarette over the balcony.  He should've woken up Red.

"Bloody hell, Soulboy is going to have a fit."  He turned to the door and opened it.  "I'll go and wake Red up.  We'll go pick her up and take her to see the Watcher.  And while we're there, maybe he can figure out how to get you back home."

His double nodded, relief evident in his face as he stared down at the street below him. "Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"I think he did something to me," his double said softly.  "Linked me here or something."

He turned back and faced him.

"Why?"

Spike watched his other self shake his head, snarling quietly.  "Dreams," he spat out. "Dreams about here and the slayer—Buffy."

"Fuck," Spike whispered as he shook his head.

His double snorted as he nodded in agreement.  "My sentiments exactly, mate."

"Red love, wake up—time for all beautiful witches to open their eyes."

Yawning, Willow opened her eyes to see Spike sitting down next to her with his tee-shirt in hand.

"Hi," she said, grinning.

"Hi yourself," he said softly as he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.

"We've got trouble, love—so you need to get that cute little butt out of bed—"

"Trouble?"  She sat up, yawning as she swung her legs around the other side of her bed.

"What happened?"

Spike chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head.  After grabbing her underwear which was underneath his foot and tossing it over to her, he picked up his red shirt.  "On a couple of fronts.  Guess who's here for a visit?"

Stepping into her panties, she shook her head. "I don't know—who?" she asked as she looked up to see him grinning lustily as her naked chest.  Blushing, she quickly picked her shirt up.  "Spike, stop it or we'll never get out of here!" She glanced over at the clock and let out a sigh of relief.  It wasn't even midnight.  "At least it's still early.  Thanks for letting me get some sleep."

"You looked like you needed it," he said as he began lacing up his boots.

"I did.  You said two fronts?"  She fell back on the bed and reached across it to grab her jeans-which were next to Spike.  "And who's here?  Dru?"

Standing up, he walked over to the duffel bag sitting on her desk.  "Have you finished with this?"  he asked her as he picked it up.

She glanced up from zipping her pants and nodded.  "Everything's ready except Amy's Book of Shadows which is..." she trailed off as she flicked up her comforter and pulled the book out from underneath the material.  Once facing him, she tossed it over and sat back down to put on her shoes as he stuffed it in the bag and zipped it up.  "Spike—who's here?"

He dropped the bag down and leaned against her desk.  "My other self.  He thinks Angelus did it."

Willow felt her mouth drop open in shock.  He was the last person she had ever expected to see again.   "And what else?" she finally asked, ignoring the swirl of emotions inside of her. She didn't know how she felt about the other Spike.  The young, nearly virginal Willow part of her, still felt uncomfortable about him.  She didn't actually hate him-she just wasn't sure what she felt.

He sighed as he turned his head to the balcony.  "He came upon the slayers fighting each other.  The other one-apparently wanted to take Buffy out and had some vampires with her. Buffy was shot—"

"Oh my God!"

"Red, she's okay.  He grabbed Buffy and got her out of there.  He said he wasn't even spotted.  She's at the poof's apartment asleep right now.  He didn't know where else to take her."

Willow stood up and grabbed her jacket and backpack and looked up at Spike.  "So, we're going to pick up Buffy?"

Her lover nodded after shrugging his duster on.  After picking up the duffel bug, he walked over to the doors and turned the latch.  "Ready love?"

Willow took a deep, calming breath and nodded.  "Ready."

Buffy began turning over to her side, when a flash of hot pain shot through her body, waking her.  Groaning, she opened her eyes and felt a wave of panic flood her system.

She was in Angel's apartment.

"Oh God, not again," she whispered to herself, at first thinking that she was dreaming.

And she did have this dream-frequently.  Herself, asleep in bed, Angel returning from wherever he went after they had made love to taunt her—hurt her.

Then came the slow realization that this creature standing in front of her, buttoning his shirt, wasn't the same person that she had just lost her virginity to...

That this vampire didn't love her.

Buffy shook her head, trying to shake away the memory.  It did no good to dwell on things such as Angelus' return and his rejection of her.  All it did was reinforce how insecure she felt about sex and relationships in general.  It had been over a year since she had been held like that.  Been made love to with infinite care and gentleness.

Been over a year since she had felt like a woman.

"Stop it, Summers," she muttered to herself as she picked up the piece of paper by her head.  Reading it, she felt her mouth open in shock it finally sunk in who had actually written the note.

He even signed his name.

Spike.

But not your Spike, Buffy thought to herself as she re-read it.

"Slayer...

Went to get Willow.  Will be back.

Spike"

She heard herself snort in amusement as she shook her head.  Who would've ever thought that Spike would write her a note?  Not her, that's for sure.

And it wasn't even her Spike.  It was the other world's Spike.  The same Spike that had slept with her Willow-despite her friend's wishes to the contrary.  And had drunk from her at that.

"He's a demon, what do you expect?" Buffy asked herself out loud as she pushed her aching body up off the bed.  The same demon that saved your butt tonight in the cemetery, she snapped back at herself.

"Oh wonderful, now I'm arguing with myself," she muttered softly as she replayed the conversation Spike and she had earlier that evening.  It was funny—she could see the difference in him-but not nearly as much as Willow and Angel had said there was.  The Spike who had saved her from her fate at Faith's hands, wasn't that much different from the Spike who had knocked out that cop the night the two enemies forged a shaky alliance to take down Angelus and save the world.

Maybe the other Spike was changing as well.

Groaning softly, she looked down at her chest and for the first time since she had woken up, noticed it was bare.  Panic filled her until she remembered that Spike had to cut off her shirt to clean her wound.  She glanced back at the bed and saw her torn tee-shirt crumbled by the edge of the mattress and let out a soft sigh in relief.  Hopefully, she had been covered when Spike had been there.

Walking over to Angel's closet, she pulled open the door with her good hand and began sorting through his shirts.  Pulling out a black, silk shirt, she slipped her good arm through the sleeve and draped the shirt over her injured shoulder and clasped the middle with her good hand-too tired to try and even button it yet.

She'd just wait until there was a reason to, she told herself as her eyes scanned the room once more—looking for any evidence that Angel had changed something in the past year.

Because, if he hadn't—it was just too creepy to contemplate.
 
 

"God, I really hate this place," she mumbled as she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Just as in the bedroom, here in the kitchen nothing had changed as well.  It was as if Angel had never come back here—leaving this apartment and his things forever to sit in the dust and pain of their last and only coupling.  Was it like a shrine?  Buffy asked herself as her eyes noticed the empty coffee cup sitting on the counter.  Wasn't that the same cup she had used to drink out of that night-right before she crawled back to bed and into his waiting arms?

She wondered if he had even bothered to clean out the refrigerator.  Would there be old blood bags in there dated from a year ago last January?

Shuddering, Buffy turned and left the room.

The bathroom would be nice.  She didn't have too many memories of that room.

Spike opened the door and waved his double and the human Willow inside.  He heard Willow gasp softly as her eyes took in the room and shuddered.

"What is it, Red?" His double asked her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, rubbing her arms.

Frowning, Willow sighed as she looked up at Spike.  "He hasn't changed a thing, Spike. Everything is like it was.  No wonder she freaked when she realized you brought her here," Willow said, looking at him pointedly.  "It's like a tomb or something."

Spike sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair.  "Bloody figures," he whispered as he looked over at his double.  "Is the Ponce always like this?  So maudlin?"

His double snickered as he nodded.  "Soulboy is nothing if not the epitome of guilt and remorse."

"He doesn't like to forget his past," Willow added as she walked towards the bedroom. Suddenly she stopped and turned back towards both of them.  "She's not—"

The bathroom door opened and out walked the slayer. She had one of Angel's shirts draped over her shoulders and unbuttoned, leaving her breasts barely covered by the silken material.  Her eyes landed on both Spikes and Spike had to chuckle as he caught the blush that spread from her neck, up to her face.  She whipped around and clutched the shirt by her free hand and finally just sighed loudly.

"Figures this happens the one day all my bras are in the dirty clothes," she muttered to herself as she marched back into the bathroom and seconds later came out with a towel covering her chest.  Smirking at herself, she looked over at Willow.  "Hey Wills, thanks for coming by and getting me out of this shrine—"

Willow walked over to her and clasped her uninjured elbow and led her to the bed.  "Are you okay?"

Buffy nodded as her eyes landed on Spike.  "Yeah, thanks to Spike 2.  What are we going to call you and how the hell did you get here?"

Spike shrugged as he shook out a cigarette, trying to ignore the way the slayer's nose seemed to crinkle in an incredibly adorable way when she was confused.  Bloody fucking dreams, he thought to himself.  Making me a slayer's pup—just like Soulboy.

He looked up to see those big, hazel eyes staring at him, twinkling in amusement.  "I kinda like Spike, pet.  Been my name for over a hundred years—"

"Well, it's been my name for that long as well and it is my world—"

"We didn't make you change your name when you over at my world—"

"Well, maybe we should've and then Willow wouldn't have trusted you and the Ponce so easily—"

"Like that was my bloody fault.  I was supposed to wa—"

"Time out!" Willow snapped, interrupting them.  Rubbing her temples, she glanced over to the slayer and sighed.  "I really hate my other self, you know that?  It's all her fault—even if she didn't do the spell brought the other Spike here—still she's the first one that used it."

The slayer sighed, her face tired as her eyes closed.  "Wills, if you're going to get picky—we might as well blame you and Anya.  You two were the ones that brought her here first."

"I know-but if Anya hadn't been that vengeance demon and Cordelia hadn't—"

"—made the wish," Buffy paused as a soft laugh left her lips.

"It's Cordy's fault!" They both said at the same time, laughing.

"Mate, who the hell is Cordelia?" he asked his double.

"The Prom Queen Bitch from Hell. Am I right, Red?"

Both Willow and Buffy nodded, still grinning.

"Everything's always Cordy's fault," Buffy said as she pushed herself off the bed.  "If only because she tries to blame me for everything," Buffy added softly.  She looked up at Spike as her forehead creased in thought.  "What was your middle name?"

Both of the Spikes' scarred eyebrows arched at the question.

"No way, Slayer!  I hated my middle name when I was human and I sure as hell ain't using it now!" Spike snapped as he began pacing the length of the bedroom.

"How 'bout Will or William, then?" Buffy asked softly.

He stopped mid-pace and looked over at her, dipping his head in thought.  "Can't stand William—doesn't fit me anymore.  I can live with Will, but don't you call Willow Wills?"

Buffy shrugged, using one shoulder.  "It won't confuse me.  Will it you, Willow?"

The redhead shook her head.  "No, the only people that call me Wills are you and Xander. And sometimes Angel.  I can deal."

"Good, then Will it is.  Now that that's taken care of-can we get out of here?"

Willow chuckled softly as she stood up and walked over to Buffy.  "We were planning on taking you to Giles'.  Is that all right?"

"Just peachy.  I'm sure he'll be thrilled that now I have to wear Kevlar vests on my nightly patrols," she said tiredly.  "I just wish-"  she stopped and shook her head.

Will found himself wondering what exactly the slayer was wishing and then shook his head when he realized that once again his thoughts were about the slayer.

Buffy walked over to the front door and opened it.  "Ready?"

"Ready," Willow said as she took her lover's hand and followed the slayer out of the apartment.

Will took one more look at the dusty tomb-like apartment that once housed his sire's double and sighed silently.  If he was going to be stuck here for any length of time, he was going to have to do something about the decor.

They were right—it was a shrine.

A shrine to something no longer attainable, but always desired—Buffy.

And for some odd reason, he didn't want to be reminded of that.

Not at all.

Spike pulled into the school's parking lot and parked the DeSoto by the emergency entrance that he knew Willow and her friends used to visit the school after-hours.

It helped that he had spent many hours studying the enemy, so to speak.  Especially now that he was no longer interested in killing the slayer and her crew—and was really interested in keeping Willow alive for a very long time—in one state or another.

Before he could even turn the car off, the back doors flew open and both his double and the slayer stepped out of the car.  He felt his lips curl as he watched the two—never noticing how much he and the slayer were alike until he had the Hellmouthy experience of watching his double interact with her.

He glanced over at Willow and noticed her smile as well.  Grabbing her hand, he tugged her over and slipped his arm around her small body.  "Have you been watching those two, Red?"

She giggled softly.  "Yeah, what's the deal with Sp—I mean with Will?  In a way I can understand Buffy treating him decently—he's never personally harmed her.  And he did save her life-but he hated the other Buffy."

After kissing her temple, he opened his door and stood up, waving Willow out.  Once they were both standing, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it-staring at the swinging double doors that Will and Buffy had just entered.

"He thinks that it was part of the spell that was used to bring him here.  He had dreams about her all during the day," Spike said quietly, silently sympathizing with his other self.  "He didn't think they were normal dreams."

Willow looked up at him as they started walking up towards the school.  "Dreams?  That doesn't make sense.  And besides, if Willow didn't do this, who did?"

Spike shrugged as held open the door for Willow.  He followed her, letting it close behind him.  "He thinks it was Angelus."

"I knew that Angel was familiar with magic, but he's not that strong of a practitioner," Willow said.  "All the more reason to de-rat Amy tomorrow night.  Maybe she can figure out what kind of spell was used.  Do you think he's got a soul?"

Spike chuckled as he shook his head.  "No, love, no soul.  It's more like he's more like me. Maybe, it was a different spell than what was used on us-that somehow is forcing him to comply to this world's rules.  Hell, I don't know, Red.  I feel like I'm watching a DS9 episode."

Willow giggled as her nodded in agreement.  "You too?  Especially when I met my other self. I couldn't help but feel like Kira or Spock in that alternative universe."

"I'm not that much different, though."

"Yeah, you are.  Angel actually told everyone last night that if he hadn't met the other Spike and dealt with him and you—he would've done a lot more to keep us apart.  It was seeing you and Will together that convinced him that you had changed."

Tossing his cigarette down, Spike stopped at the library doors and looked down at Willow. "Think about it love, is he that much different than me now?  Remember, you could tell the difference just from looking in his eyes.  Are his eyes different now?"

Willow shook her head.  "That's not quite right any more.  His eyes changed once that happened between us.  Maybe his experiences with us—and you talking to him and telling him about this world, opened his eyes."

"No, that's not enough, Red.  It took five months of being paralyzed in a wheelchair all the while being abused by Angelus and seeing Dru and him rutting like a couple of dogs in heat for me to change," he stopped and wrapped both arms around her waist.  "I can't believe a couple of talking-to's and a night of hot, mortal sex could change him—not that you aren't amazing in the sack, but—"

Smirking, Willow stood on her tip-toes and kissed him, effectively silencing him.  "You better stop while you're ahead, Blondie," she whispered against his lips.  Spike nearly growled when he felt her hot tongue slip through his lips.  Instantly deepening the kiss, his arms tightened around her as he felt himself harden in desire.

"Bloody witch—if you don't stop it, I'm going to drag you into the first empty room and shag you senseless—"

Pouting, Willow pulled back and smiled.  "Sorry."

Spike couldn't help but laugh at her facial expression, flashing back to his lover's leather clad double.  "Red, are you sure you didn't bring that bustier back over with you?"

Willow backed out of his arms and smacked him playfully in the gut.  "I can't believe you said that!"  She grabbed his arm and pushed open the library doors.  "Come on, they're waiting!"

Unable to wipe the smile off his face, Spike followed Willow into the library-feeling totally unrepentant.

Damn, it's good to be alive, he thought to himself as he watched her jean covered behind move sensually in front of him.  He really did love her.  He still couldn't believe it.

Sipping a caffeine free soda, Willow watched as Giles fussed over Buffy, nodding approvingly at Will's bandaging.  He leaned back and looked up at Buffy.  "Do you want me to stitch that up for you?  I might be able to lessen the scarring."

She nodded.  "Might as well.  I would like to wear a sleeveless shirt this summer." She shrugged off the shirt, making sure the towel she had taken from Angel's apartment was still covering her breasts.  "What are we going to do about Faith, Giles?"

Looking up from the needle and thread, Giles sighed.  "I really don't know, Buffy. Normally, the Council would deal with a rogue slayer, but considering how she managed to free herself the last time they got their hands on her, I doubt they will even bother now."

"But Giles, that was before-before she actually began working with the mayor.  Now that we know she's in cohorts with a demon-wannabe, doesn't that count for something?" Willow asked, feeling incredibly helpless at the idea of an armed Faith wandering around Sunnydale.  "And she was with vampires with the full intent to murder Buffy!"

He sighed again, dropping his hands.  "I know that Willow.  But I also know the Council. They don't take their losses very well.  Or embarrassment.  They may just ignore the whole Sunnydale mess until one or both slayers end up dead."

"Well, we have to do something!"

"I agree.  Now that all three of you have been targeted, I think we should all be on our toes for more attacks."

Willow felt Spike stiffen as he turned to look at her.  She nearly flinched at his angry expression.  "What?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me that the Mayor tried to kill you?"

Willow couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at him as she let out a soft laugh.  "I didn't think it was a big deal, Spike.  I mean how many times did you try kill one or all of us last year?  It's part of the job description," she added softly.  "Besides, I can wield a pretty mean pencil.  I actually staked a vampire in the Mayor's office with one!"

"Red, that's not funny.  It was different last year—"

Grinning, she shook her head.  "Yeah, it was you.  That's what was different.  He's just following the script.  The same script we all read and follow.  Bad guys want to kill the good guys and the good guys want to kill the bad guys.  And that's just the way it is," she ended softly, looking over at Buffy-silently asking her for her support.

And of course, Buffy just shook her head at Willow.  "He's right, Wills.  You shouldn't be involved with any of this.  If I could stop you, Xander, Oz and Cordelia, I would." She looked over at Spike.  "But Spike, I can't.  I've tried for two years and they won't quit. Ever seen Willow's infamous 'resolve' face?  Or Xander's stubborn, self-righteous glare? Or Oz's seemingly unaffected insistence on being involved regardless of the consequences. And Cordy's the best.  She may complain continually, but if it wasn't for her, Willow and I would've been burnt at the stake just a couple of months ago."  Buffy chuckled softly as she looked down at the floor for a moment before meeting Spike's softening glare.  "Cordy actually managed to scare the beejees out of Lyle Gorch with a spatula.  Scared him right out of town.  So, as much as I hate my friends getting hurt, I can't stop them.  And hearing about my other self,  I wonder if I should," she added softly.

Willow saw Will's head shoot up and look over at Buffy—his blue eyes intense as he appeared to be thinking about something.  Suddenly, he looked over at Spike and nodded in agreement.

"She's right, mate.  Think about the other slayer and think about my world and then look at yours."

Scowling, Spike shot out of his chair and lit a cigarette.  "You don't think I haven't realized that myself?" He asked incredulously.  "But it's different now.  It's Red's life—not just one of the slayer's flunkies that seem to make my unlife miserable."

Willow stood up and walked in front of Spike.  "Spike—" she started until she managed to look into his eyes and see a flickering of fear for her flash before her.  She reached over and grasped his arms, stilling him and gave him a small smile.  "I'm sorry to worry you," she whispered before kissing him chastely on the lips.

Chuckling softly at himself, he shook his head as he pulled her into his arms.  "It's just that you're mortal, love.  Everytime I think about that..." he left the sentence unfinished, but Willow could feel his body shudder in her arms.  She wished there was something she could do to ease his fears, but there wasn't.  He was right.  She was mortal. And she could just as easily die by a hit and run driver, or a fall down the stairs as by an evil slayer following the orders of her boss, a demon wannabe.  She knew that Spike wouldn't realize that-being immortal for so long-but it was the reality of her life.  All she had to do was remember the massacre in the AV lab she walked into two years before or Ms. Calendar's coffin as it was lowered into the earth.  Or the ache that she still felt-two years later-from Jesse's absence in her life.

That's why she fought with Buffy—for all those losses that she had suffered and for all the lives she helped to save.

But for all the things she loved about Spike, she knew he wouldn't understand her reasons. They were too human—too soulful for a soulless vampire to comprehend—no matter how much he might love her.  He could understand the need for self-preservation and saving those he loved—but her reasons were just too altruistic for him.

Sighing, she tightened her arms and then released her hold.  Once she stepped back, she took his hand and led him back to the table.  Once they were both seated, he pulled her chair over to his and draped his arms over the back of her seat onto her shoulders, gently massaging her tired muscles.

As she watched Giles quietly stitch Buffy up, Willow wondered how much longer Spike would tolerate her mortal existence before he gave into his nature and turned her—regardless of the clause in the curse.  She saw the desperation in his eyes—his need to keep her with him at all costs—and knew without a doubt, that sooner or later, he would succumb to it.

Willow just hoped she found a way to permanently anchor her soul before that happened.

Another vampire Willow was just too horrific to contemplate.

Once Buffy had seen Giles thread the needle, she closed her eyes and clenched the stake she had her free hand-hoping she wouldn't break it too soon.

At least not until he was finished sewing up her wound.

She hated needles.

More than once, she wondered how she could face the horrors of the Hellmouth and her calling and deal with it with such ease, and yet see a needle heading towards her, and she was literally shaking.

"Buffy, be still," Giles chided softly.

"I'm trying," she ground out in between her clenched teeth as she felt the familiar prick, sending her nerve endings into an uproar.  "Hurry Giles, before I decide to just live with the scar."

Thankfully, neither of the Spikes decided to comment on her obvious vulnerabilty, but Buffy couldn't help but wonder if they were filing the information for future use.  Great, I can see it.  In five years, it'll be death by needles...

She actually shuddered at the thought.

"Buffy."

"Sorry," she whispered as her hold on the stake tightened.  Would she break it this time? She asked herself as she tried taking her mind off the needle sinking into her flesh.  What to think about...Spike's reaction, she thought to herself.  That was sure interesting. Funny how short memories were when someone changed sides.  But had he changed sides, she asked herself.  Maybe it's just some scheme to get us to drop our defenses?

She thought about that for a few minutes and shook her head.  No, no matter how much she didn't trust Spike when it came to her own life—or anyone else's—when it came to Willow, she could tell instantly that the blond vampire was definitely in love with her best friend.

Buffy could see it in everything he did.  From the looks they shot one another—to his constant need to touch her as if to make sure she was really there, by his side.  To his eyes every time they looked at her.

He was as besotted with Willow as Oz was-if not more.

And from what Angel had said, he loved Willow-the human Willow—the Willow with a soul.  So at least her friend was in no danger of becoming a member of the undead as long as the curse had the happiness clause.

Her mind turned to the other Spike and she found herself smiling inwardly.  He was a strange cookie, she thought to herself, remembering how many times this night she had felt his eyes on her-watching her-studying her.  It kind of reminded the slayer of Angel in the beginning-when she had finally realized what it meant to be the center of someone else's world...

Her eyes shot open and she found herself meeting Will's intense gaze.

What in God's name are you thinking, girl? she asked herself as she felt her face flush in embarrassment.  The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement as if he had been reading her thoughts.  Dropping her eyes from his, she looked over to the side to the book cases and sighed softly.  She so did not need this-not another vampire-and Spike no less!

Groaning softly, she wished she could bang her head on the table and knock some sense into it.  Why was she even contemplating this?  Just because Wills got herself a Spike, didn't mean she had to!

"All done," Giles said as he stood up and gathered the first aid supplies.

"Thank God," muttered Buffy as gathered the shirt in her hand and tried buttoning with one hand.  After nearly a minute, she cursed under her breath and glanced up at Willow.  "Can you?"

Willow nodded, pulled away from Spike and kneeled down in front of Buffy.  "Are you okay?" her friend asked her softly as her fingers deftly worked the fastenings of Angel's shirt.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy managed to shrug.  "Just tired."

"All done," she said as she stood up and fell back into her chair.

Pointedly ignoring the vampire of her thoughts, Buffy looked across her shoulder towards Giles.  "So Giles, what do you think happened with Will?"

Giles walked over to the table and leaned against a bookcase.  "You mean—"

"Spike—the new Spike.  We decided to call him Will, so we knew who we were talking about."

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  "It's a spell, no doubt.  But which one, I have no idea."  He sighed.  "And to be perfectly honest, I don't know if we can spend the amount of time it would take to find out-at least not until after the Ascension."

Buffy heard Will scowl loudly as he pushed back his chair and stood up.  "Bloody hell. What am I supposed to do until then?"

"Maybe Amy can help us—once she's back from being a rat," Willow offered softly.

Buffy yawned as she nodded at Willow's suggestion.  "Why don't we sleep on it and talk tomorrow during free hour?"  Buffy asked quietly as she stood up.  "I don't know about the rest of you people, but I'm exhausted.  I've been up since six-thirty this morning and actually got shot tonight.  I need to go to bed."

"Buffy, I need to make a stop at the ladies room.  Walk with me?"

Buffy nodded.  "We'll meet you guys in the hall.  Good night, Giles."

"Good night.  And Buffy, be careful.  Remember Faith can try and kill you just as well in the daylight as at nighttime."

"Thanks Giles, I'm sure I'll have sweet dreams now," Buffy muttered as she followed Willow out of the library.

Just what she needed-fuzzy feelings about a Spike-double and the constant reminder of Faith's nefarious attentions.

What a wonderful day this turned out to be, she thought to herself.

"Watcher?"

Will watched as the man looked over at Spike and sigh.  "Yes Spike, what is it?"

"There's more to this spell than what happened with Willow and I."

"What are you talking about?"

Will growled a warning in his double's direction.  "Don't do it, mate."

Spike shook his head.  "He should know.  It may be the key to sending you home."

"What a bloody fucking mess my unlife is turning out to be," Will muttered as he lit a cigarette.  Once he took a deep drag off it, he turned back to Giles.  "It's like this, mate.  All day long, I had dreams. Now, I don't know if you know this, but vampires don't usually dream.  So, that in itself was unusual."

Will could see the watcher's interest piqued as he stood up and walked over to the table.

"Go on, what else?  What were they about?"

"The slayer.  Both Buffys at first—but it ended up being about your slayer."  Will turned away from both men and began pacing-trying to ignore his rising embarrassment at the whole predicament.  A vampire having dreams about the slayer.

"What kind of dreams?" the watcher asked, his face paling at the implications.

Will stopped and glared at the human.  "Not that bloody kind!  They were about her life-before she was called and afterwards.  I—they were strange.  Other than a few fights, up until those three ended up in our world, I never had any dealings with her.  Angelus and Willow were the ones that liked to play with her.  I just sat back and watched.  Why me? If any vampire should be dreaming about her, it should be him!" he said as he pointed at Spike.  "He's the one that had that alliance with her.  He's fought her and got his ass beat by her repeatedly.  Me?  Nothing!"

"Oh dear," Giles whispered as he rubbed his temples.  "I'll look into it tonight.  You were right, Spike.  This is important."

Just then, the object of his dreams stuck her head in the doorway.  "Come on, you guys! Wills and are falling asleep out here!"

Will growled at the slayer and turned back to Giles.  "You'll see if you can find something then?"

"Yes," the man said as he nodded.  "Does Willow know about this?" Giles asked his double.

Smirking, Spike nodded yes.

Had he always been that much of a smart-ass, Will asked himself as he marched past his other self towards the exit.  Because if he was, he was really irritating.

Hearing Spike's laughter behind him only seemed to reiterate the fact.

Bloody prick, Spike thought to himself, feeling his demon rise.  He really needed to knock a few heads in.  Put things in perspective, you know?

"He's here? Now?"

Giles nodded, watching the dark-haired vampire warily.

"Where?" Angel asked.

The watcher cleared his throat. "I do believe he's staying at your old apartment. At least that's where he took Buffy once he saved her from Faith."

Angel stood there, in the shadows, with his hands on his hips as he stared into the dark room. "And did he say why he saved her?"

Giles could feel his anxiety level rise. He had no idea how to tell Angel what the other Spike had said or even if he should. All it would do was cause undue anxiety on Angel's part. But if the other Spike - or Will, as he wanted to be called now - was lying, then Angel might be the only one that could protect her. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned against the arm of the couch. "He said it was because Buffy was Willow's friend. And if he wanted to get back to his world, he needed to remain in Willow's good graces or something of the sort."

"That's not all of it, is it?"

Sometimes Giles hated the vampire's perceptiveness. "No, that's not all of it, as you say. There's more. Although he didn't say that was the reason he saved her, I could see that it played a part."

Angel frowned at him. "Well?"

"It appears that Will—"

"Will?"

"Oh yes, that's what Buffy and Willow decided to call him so that there was no confusion as to which Spike everyone was talking about -- or to for that matter," Giles said as he rubbed his eyes. Which Spike? Lord, if the Council could see him now. Consorting with not just one vampire, but three of them. And two of those had no souls. Whatever happened to just staking the bastards? Calming himself, Giles took a deep breath and continued. "It appears that there may be more to the spell that brought him here than the ones that we and the other Willow used. He had dreams all day yesterday about Buffy—both Buffys to be exact. Until their lives diverged, and then his dreams were mostly of our Buffy. He said he saw her life—almost as if he were watching it as it went by. He was quite disturbed by it. He said vampires don't usually dream."

"They don't," Angel said, his voice strained. "Demons—or at least our type of demons—have no need for dreams. Dreams are a product of having a soul."

"So, you dream?"

Angel nodded once, his body tensing in thought. "Once I was cursed, it seemed that all I did was dream. Of my actions—the lives—the blood," the vampire said as he looked up and met Giles’ eyes. "And once the curse was broken, the nightmares stopped."

Giles shifted nervously as he listened to Angel's confession. Everything about last spring just made him uncomfortable. There had been a time when he considered Angel a friend, a confidant. The vampire losing his soul had destroyed the trust that had taken nearly two years to build. Every time the watcher felt his walls begin to crumble, a picture of Jenny, neck broken, lying invitingly on his bed, flashed through his mind—reminding him of what that friendship had cost him.

"Giles?"

"Um yes, Angel?"

"Whistler stopped by last night," Angel said softly, looking down at the floor. "He says that I should leave...that my redemption no longer lies with Buffy." He lifted his eyes and for a just a moment, Giles got a glimpse of all the pain and sorrow the vampire carried with him in his soul.

It was a frightening sight.

"Do you think I should leave?"

A part of Giles wanted to scream, 'YES!' and do the jig in celebration. Giles was no fool when it came to Angel and Buffy; it was just a matter of time until they gave in to their desires. Every time he saw them together, he could feel their love...their passion for one another. One of the true ironies of the universe was the love that his charge and the vampire shared - a love that, if consummated, could destroy everything that both of them held dear.

It was amazing that they had managed to withhold their affections for as long as they had. Buffy and Angel's self control was amazing. Giles always wondered if he would've been able to do the same under the circumstances.

In his really honest moments, Giles knew he would not have been able. Ripper was too much a part of him to be denied...especially when it came to the matters of the heart.

But on the other hand, if Angel left, who would protect Buffy? Giles had no supernatural strength or stamina of his own. And neither did Willow or Xander. Angel, for all the problems and obstacles his presence brought, had protected and guarded Buffy’s life so many times that Giles had lost count.

And not just Buffy's. His own life was Angel's, as well as Willow, Xander, Oz, Cordelia—everyone in their small group owed the vampire their life. If Angel left, how much longer would any of them actually survive?

Cursing, Giles finally just shrugged. "I don't know, Angel. I guess that's up to you," Giles said softly, not voicing what both of them were asking themselves. How long could Angel resist Buffy? How long could he continue to be there for her and yet never touch her like the lover he obviously was? How long?

Angel chuckled softly. "I was afraid you were going to say that." Growling softly, the vampire began pacing in the dark. "I—I don't want to leave her, Giles. But...but I don't know how long I can stay either."

Giles picked up his jacket and held it to his chest. "Well, like everything else that has come up in the past couple of weeks, it's rather a moot point if we don't survive graduation, don't you think? Why not make your decision then, Angel?"

The footsteps stilled. "You're right. I said the same to Whistler. I just thought you should know."

"Well then, thank you. I must be going or the Troll will notice I'm not there and dock me another day's pay. How that man got to be principal is beyond me," Giles said as he slipped his coat on.

"One word: Wilkins."

"How true. Good day, Angel."

"Bye Giles."

Giles turned and walked across the room, silently wondering when he was ever going to find the courage to go further into the house that had witnessed his torture at the hands of the same demon that resided in Angel's body, than the front living area. Nearly nine months had passed and he still hadn't managed it.

As he closed the door behind and walked to his car, Giles knew that it would be long time before he would ever be able to trust Angel. The ache in his hands and his heart would always be there to remind him never to misplace that trust again.

Willow sighed softly as she looked across the lunch table and watched Buffy.

She was worried about her friend. Other than a few offhand comments about Faith's ineptness at killing her, she hadn't said anything of the night before. She left that honor to Willow.

And considering how shaky the ground Willow was walking on when it came to Xander, it was not a dubious honor. As soon as Xander heard that Sunnydale had not one, but two Spikes residing in its midst, his mouth hadn't stopped since. Xander was in true form that day.

Yawning, Willow turned back to her hamburger and once again thought of the dream she had the night before.

It was definitely of the Hellmouth variety and yet, Willow found herself reluctant to share it with anyone yet—it was just too freaky for words. But, if it was really her double that had come and spoken to her, and not some warped unconscious re-write of a DS9 episode in her mind, than it was really in the best interest of everyone that Willow did share.

Once decided, she looked up from her plate and leaned over the table. "Buffy. Xander."

Both of her friends looked up at her.

"Yeah Wills?"

"What's up?" Buffy asked.

"We need to go to the library. I had a weird dream last night—I think it was important."

Buffy stood up and grabbed her backpack. "What kind of dream?" she asked as she walked around the table.

"It was of Willow—the other Willow," she said softly.

Xander groaned. "Why in the hell can't she leave us alone? I mean first she zaps you—"

"Xander—please?"

Buffy grabbed Xander's arm and hooked hers around his. "Come on, Xan Man, can't you see you’re driving Willow crazy?"

"Me? How 'bout them? They're the ones that can't seem to stay in the right world."

Willow could only shake her head, silently agreeing with him. It did appear that way, didn't it?

"So, what did the Skanky Ho have to say this time?" Buffy asked as she hopped up on top of the check-in counter. "Let me guess—she misses Will?"

Willow shrugged as her eyes landed on Giles, who was sitting across from her at the same table the five of them occupied the night before. Xander was straddling a chair, still scowling softly at the whole situation all the while covertly shooting glances at Cordelia, who was sitting a bit too close to Wesley for his comfort.

Poor Xander, Willow thought. I wonder if he'll ever stop paying for the factory incident.

"Willow? The dream?" Giles calm tone interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh yeah...the dream. It was really weird. One moment I was dreaming about flunking my make-up Calculus exam on Friday and the next, I was sitting on a hilltop—that one by the cliffs, and Willow was there—right next to me. She told me she had found a spell in one of the Master's books that enabled her to talk to me in my dreams. She wanted to know about Will and if he was there, because he disappeared from his lair—no dust, nothing. I told her yes, he was here and I asked her if she knew how he got here. Well, she said she had no idea but the reason she was so worried was one of Angelus' minions let it slip that Angelus had decided he had enough of Spike and was planning on dusting him for his insubordinance. The irony of all of it was that Angelus had organized a daytime raid to Spike's lair and when they got there—Spike was gone."

Willow watched as Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, indicating a headache was coming on. "Well, I guess that rules out Angelus and Willow."

"Did she say anything else, Willow?" Wesley asked.

Willow shook her head. "No, it was actually a pretty quick dream. Apparently it takes a lot of power to cross interdimensional lines and such. Willow said she only had a few minutes." Willow looked up the table and sighed. "She said that she was reluctant to try and bring him back if Angelus was serious about killing him. She loves him," she said as she shrugged.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Xander asked, his voice taking on an almost accusatory tone.

"Xander, what is your deal, doofus?" Cordelia snapped. "Something really gross must've crawled up your butt—"

Xander's eyes narrowed. "Yeah Cordy, I saw you first thing this morning," he said, smirking.

"Well—"

Willow cleared her throat and glared at Xander. "The reason I didn't say anything is because I hadn't really figured out if it was really real or not. It wasn't until lunch time, when I got a chance to really think about it, that it occurred to me that it might've actually happened. Until then, I wasn't sure if it wasn't something just left over from my visit there," she finished softly as she glanced over at Cordelia and gave the cheerleader a grateful smile.

Cordelia ignored it.

Wesley stood up. "I have read of such spells and she was telling the truth; it does take a lot of power to perform them."

"So, what does this mean, Giles?" Buffy asked. "If Willow or Angelus didn't send him here, then who did?"

"That does appear to be the question, now doesn't it?" Giles said as he stood up. "Wesley, maybe it’s time to contact the Council. If not about this, then about Faith—"

Wesley's head dropped. "I already did. This morning I informed the Council of Faith's attempt to kill Buffy and as we feared, they have decided to leave this matter in our capable hands."

"Those bastards," Xander whispered.

Buffy snorted as she slid off the counter. "I expected as much," she said as she grabbed her backpack. "So, does anyone have any bullet-proof vests around?"

Willow grinned as an idea hit her. "How about I hack into the police department's computer and requisition one? Then maybe we can have it delivered somewhere or something?"

Buffy's face lit up. "You're serious? You can do that?"

"I can try, Buffy."

"No Willow," Giles said, interrupting the pair. "Let me first check with some other sources before we begin pilfering supplies from the Sunnydale's finest, hmm?"

Sighing dramatically, Willow nodded. "Oh all right. I suppose that would be for the best..."

Giles gave her a small smile. "Thank you anyway."

"Well, we're off to fifth hour," Buffy called out as she signaled to her friends that it was time to leave. "Bye Giles! Wesley!"

Willow turned and watched Xander grab his notebook. "Come on, Xander. One detention this week is enough, don't you think?"

"But Wills—I still have at least twenty more to go to break the record! I've got to have something to show for all this time I've spent here!"

She couldn't help but laugh at her friend's antics. No matter how mad he got at her, he was still her Xander.

Had been and always would be.
 
 

Groaning, Will sat up in his bed and stared out into the apartment. Another bloody day filled with dreams.

About her.

What the fuck was going on? He asked himself as he grabbed a cigarette off the nightstand and lit it. Why would he be having dreams about her? She wasn't his slayer; this wasn't his world—it should not be, and yet it was.

Growling softly, he stubbed his cigarette and rolled over onto his back, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he had just been lying there when he felt him.

His sire's double.

His presence sent a cool chill down his spine at the same time tugging at him, much like his Angelus' essence did. Will wasn't sure what it was about this Angel that sent all his senses into an uproar, drawing him towards the older the vampire while at the same repelling him, but he was sure of one thing; he did not want to know why.

Once he heard the door of the apartment opened and closed softly, and Will cleared his throat. "In here, mate."

Will looked up towards the doorway and saw Angel leaning against the wall, with a paper sack in his hand. "I brought you something to eat," Angel said as he walked over to the bed.

Spike sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked up at the vampire. "What is it? Pig's blood?"

Angel shook his head. "Willie carries human," he said, handing Will the paper sack. "I can't ask you not to hunt, but could you please keep your dalliances outside the city limits?"

Will's scarred eyebrow arched. "Is that what Spike's doing?"

Angel shrugged. "That or a sip and go sort of thing. He knows better than to piss off Buffy too much or Willow for that matter. The boy's besotted," Angel added, grinning.

"Don't I know it. Should've seen the two last night," Will said as he opened the bag and pulled out a Styrofoam cup. Peeling off the plastic lid, he sipped the lukewarm blood and sighed softly. "So what brings you here, Angel? From what I've gathered, you haven't been here since before you lost your soul."

Will saw the flicker of anguish in his dark brown eyes and felt a pang of regret for upsetting the vampire. This wasn't his sire. True, he was basically the same person that had brought him across, but the fact was he wasn't. Will sighed, his eyes shutting. "Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It's not you I'm angry at."

Angel shrugged. "I'm used to it," he said, sitting down next to Spike on the bed. "It's kind of liberating, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Being here—in this world. I know, in a lot of ways, I felt almost free in your world. A kind of freedom I haven't had in a long time here."

Will nodded slowly. "I noticed it last night." He closed his eyes and smiled. "I don't have to be Spike, William the Bloody here. Spike is. I'm just Will. Bloody hell, I don't even feel an allegiance to my demon brothers—they're not my brothers. They're someone else's—yours, Spike's."

"Do you want to go back?"

He shrugged and stood up. "I don't know. I miss Willow, but let's be honest, if push came to shove, she would've chosen Angelus. Not me. If I hadn't known it before that night we rescued your Willow, I knew afterwards." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Just like with Dru, I was second best. And there's no one else there that I miss."

"And here?"

After lighting a cigarette, he shrugged again. "I don't know."

After nearly five minutes of silence, Angel's soft voice broke the quiet. "What about the dreams?"

Will growled softly as he shook his head. "Bloody hell, word sure travels fast around here," he said, stomping over to the nightstand and putting out his cigarette. "Again, I don't know. I don't know what's causing them or why I'm having them."

Angel stood up and walked over to the doorway. "Well, I'll leave you be. You're more than welcome to stay here. Even redecorate if that's your heart's desire. Just one thing."

"Yeah?" Will asked looking up into Angel's eyes.

"Don't hurt Buffy or you'll be begging for Angelus' wrath instead of mine."

Not even a minute later, Spike heard the front door close.

"Bloody wonderful," he whispered. "Bloody fucking wonderful."

"Spike?"

Spike opened his eyes to see Willow sitting on the bed right next to him. He reached over and pulled her down on top of him. "Hello Red," he whispered right before he kissed her.

As she moaned, he deepened the kiss as his fingers slid underneath her shirt, teasing her hot flesh. She arched into his kiss, pressing herself against his hardened sex. Chuckling softly, he deftly pulled off her shirt and rolled over on top of her. "So, how was your day?"

Her eyes squeezed shut as she let out quite an impressive growl for a mortal girl of eighteen years old. "Not again, Spike! Aaarg!"

He laughed as his hands cupped her face. "I'm sorry, Red," he said, knowing that the grin on his face indicated he was anything but remorseful. "I just love teasing you. The demon in me has to get his thrills somehow." His head dipped down and kissed her chastely on the lips.

She returned his smile and chuckled softly. "It's okay. I needed to talk to you anyway."

"What's wrong?" he asked her, rolling off her and sitting up against the headboard. He grabbed a cigarette and lit it and then with his free hand, tugged on Willow, urging her to move closer to him.

He watched as she nibbled on her bottom lip as she began to run her finger across his chest. "I had a dream last night—about the other Willow. Really what it was, was her talking to me. She found a spell to contact me in my dreams." Willow sighed, leaning down, resting her head on his bare chest. "She asked about Will and if he was here. She said that yesterday Angelus had planned an ambush of sorts on Will and when he and the minions broke into the factory, they found he was gone."

"What kind of ambush?" Spike asked, hoping that it wasn't as bad as it sounded.

"He wanted to kill him. Willow only found out about it after the fact. A minion spilled it. She was worried about Will and was glad that he was here—where he was safe."

"It's all her bloody fault to begin with. She managed to do exactly what the slayer did to my sire here—even worse," Spike said remembering that look in Angelus' eye as he stared at the human Willow. Such need and obsession all mixed up into a psychotic cocktail that was Angelus. "At least the slayer didn't play on Poof's need to be punished."

He felt Willow shudder in his arms and his arm tightened around her. After kissing her on her forehead, he put out his cigarette and sighed. "So, I guess that means Angelus didn't send him here, did he?"

"That's the general consensus. Wesley and Giles said they would look into it."

"So, when's the great de-ratting taking place?"

He felt her body shift and she pulled her head up to look up at him. "Midnight at the library. Coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Red."

Her eyes lit up as she suddenly pounced playfully on top of him and dropped a big, wet hot kiss on his lips. "Cool!"

Seeing the twinkle in her eye he knew she was planning to slip away from him to tease him, his hands tugged on her waist, pulling her firmly down on top of him, growling softly. "And where do you think you're going, Red?" he asked her as he began nibbling on her chin. "I didn't say you could leave..."

Moaning, Willow arched her neck allowing him better access as her hot fingers began gently scratching his chest. "Nowhere...oh, Spike..."

He quickly undid the clasp on her bra and tugged it off, tossing it off the bed as his mouth began to suckle on her neck. His hands cupped her breasts and without missing a beat, he rolled them back over so she was on her back. Soon her jeans and knickers followed her bra, flying through the air and landing on the floor.

Grinning, he looked down at her and knew that he was just a whipped sod when it came to his Willow. Her flushed skin—her erratic heartbeat—her dilated pupils all screamed that she was his...and that was just fine with him.

'Cause he'd been hers for a long a time.

Once Willow had left the library and Buffy had donned her newest in slayer protection wear, a nice dark gray Kevlar bullet proof vest courtesy of some poor fool that owed Ripper a favor, she was finally allowed to leave the protection of the school grounds.

Although she had changed into a pair of sweat pants and a long tee shirt before she left the school, she could still feel the Kevlar rub harshly against her nearly bare skin. The way it was going, she was tempted to pitch the damn thing, and just keep her fingers crossed that Faith wouldn't bring any more guns to their play dates. The skin around her healing bullet wound was especially sensitive and Buffy wouldn't be surprised if by the end of the night some of the area around might be rubbed raw.

Now, two hours later, she was still wandering the streets of Sunnydale. The sun had set nearly forty-five minutes before and she had already done a sweep through the park. Her intention was to begin her patrol, but she kept putting it off in favor of walking around mindlessly while she pondered the state of her life.

God, she hated Faith for putting her through all this. Wasn't it enough that she had to give up the last years of her life killing demons and protecting the world, that now she had to worry about guns as well? Buffy knew it was stupid to feel sorry for herself, but lately she couldn't seem to shake the melancholy that had settled on her heart. Everything just seemed so blah.

Whether it was because of Angel and their doomed love affair or Faith's defection, Buffy just couldn't seem to shake the blues.

She looked up to find herself staring at the familiar apartment building and nearly groaned out loud. How long had it been since she had actually felt driven to go to Angel's old apartment? For months after he had lost his soul, she would find herself wandering to this place—staring at the building—unwilling to go inside but at the same time, unwilling to leave.

"God, I'm pathetic," she whispered to herself. Shaking her head at herself, she just began to turn around when she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

"Slayer! What brings you here?"

Sp—Will, Buffy thought to herself as she turned around and faced the double of the bane of her existence.

"Will, what's up?" she asked, noting that the vampire must've gotten a decent change of clothes from his double since he was no longer wearing Angel's.

Will shrugged, lighting a cigarette. "I'm off to the mall, believe it or not. I need to pick up some things," he said, stepping up to her. Suddenly, he frowned as he leaned back, checking out her torso. "What the hell do you have on underneath your shirt?"

Blushing, Buffy rolled her eyes and lifted the bottom of her shirt up far enough so he could see the bullet-proof vest. "The newest addition to my slayerwear. Like it?" she asked, scowling softly.

"Obviously a little bit better than you," Will said softly.

Buffy snorted softly. "Don't pay any attention to me tonight. I'm in a funk. So shopping, huh?" she asked him, changing the subject.

"Yeah, if I'm going to be stuck here for a bit, I need to stock up on some things...clothes, a bit of redecorating for the apartment," he said as they began walking.

Buffy nodded in understanding. "But where did you get money? I mean—didn't you say you had nothing on except your boxers?" she asked smirking up at him.

He gave her small smile. "Poof always leaves a nice stash of cash wherever he lives. He must've forgotten about the one in the apartment."

"And he lives like a monk," Buffy whispered to herself in wonder. She was always amazed at how much Angel liked to deny himself things.

"That he does," Will said, chuckling. "So, any news that I need to know of?"

Buffy snapped her fingers, remembering Willow's dream and quickly told him.

"Bloody fucking hell! What in the Satan's name is going on here?" he asked, flicking his cigarette away. "If Peaches didn't do this to me, then who the hell did?"

Buffy just shrugged. "No one knows. Giles and Wesley said they'd look into it. Oh, and Willow is de-ratting Amy tonight. Maybe with another witch’s help, they can figure something out."

"What time?"

"Hmm? The de-ratting?" she asked.

Will nodded.

"Midnight at the library."

After nearly a minute passed, Will cleared his throat. "Can I come?"

Buffy stopped, tipped her head and stared at Will's back, shocked. She just didn't understand him. Why would he care about the de-ratting? And why would he want to go where all his enemies were going to be? Why would he want to put himself through that kind of torment? All that came out of her mouth was a nearly unintelligible, "Huh?"

He finally turned around when he noticed she wasn't walking beside him. "What's wrong, pet?"

Frowning, Buffy shook her head as she searched for the right words in her mind to verbalize her unmitigated confusion. After nearly a minute, she just sighed and began speaking.

"I just don't understand you. I mean, I know you're not the same Spike that has tried to kill me numerous times...been the bane of my existence for over a year and a half and who likes to drink hot chocolate with my mother...but who are you? You're still Spike. The Slayer's Slayer. Up until two years ago, our realities were identical. So, what's going on? I keep expecting a group of minions to pour out of the woodwork to take me down or for you to suddenly lash out and try to kill me. Did you know that Spike hired the Order of Takara to take me down? Did you know that he tried—no, let's be accurate about this—he managed to put together The Judge and was going to introduce it to the world at the same mall you’re heading for right now?"

Will grinned. "The Judge? I - or he - did that? Bloody hell, he's got balls."

Throwing her arms in frustration, she just shook her head. "Yeah, and I was the gal with the rocket launcher that took Big Blue out, too. His pieces will never be reassembled again," she added smugly. "So tell me, what changed you? I know why this Spike is different. I watched it. I was there on the other side when Angel lost his soul. Spike lost Dru. I lost Angel. I was there when Spike approached me for an alliance. I was there when we fought together against some of his former minions a couple of months ago. But from everything that Angel and Willow told me, you should be like the Spike that tried to kill me on Parent-Teacher night two years ago, not our Spike." She began pacing in front of him, feeling all the tension of the day pouring out. God, what she would do for a good slay right now. "And you don't even have our Willow's love to push you towards—" She stopped and growled. "I'm just confused!"
 

"I can see that," he said, smirking. She watched as he took an unneeded breath and sighed heavily. After lighting a cigarette, he met her questioning stare. "You won't like it, love."

She rolled her eyes again. "I'll like it better than not knowing."

"I don't know why I didn't tell you before," he said, shaking his head. "Bloody hell, everyone else knows. I was just embarrassed. Me, Spike, William the Bloody having fucking dreams about a slayer? Unheard of. Unfathomable. And yet, they happened. Happened today too." He walked up to her and nearly reached for her hand, but stopped himself. "All day yesterday—I don't even know if it was before I was transported here or afterwards, I was dreaming of your life. Actually, it was both of the Buffys...and then, it split. I guess, where the worlds split - and suddenly I was watching your life." Dropping his gaze, he turned and looked off to the side. "When I saw you get shot—I just couldn't let you die. I kept telling myself it was because of Willow, but I don't know. I don't have a fucking soul...but something happened." He turned to face her, his dark eyes pinning hers. "And now you tell me that Angelus wasn't the one that did this and that he was planning on killing me...it just makes me think."

"What do you mean? Who else would do this?" Buffy asked, feeling even more confused than she had before. If it wasn't someone then it had to be something...and why would any something bring a soulless vampire over from a different world and make him dream about her?

Will just shook his head. "I don't know, pet," he whispered, his hand finally reaching out and tucking a piece of her hair behind her hair. Growling softly, he dropped his hand and stuck both of them into his jeans pocket. "So, are you going to stand there all night or are you coming shopping with me?"

Buffy looked up at him, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach that was caused by his gesture and grinned lopsidedly at him. "On one condition—we stop off at my house so I can change and grab some money." She shook her head in mock dismay. "It's a shame I gave Angel back his Gold Card, or we could've had some fun."

"Now you're talking, pet," he said waving his hand behind him. "Lead the way."

Buffy did just that.

Watching Willow was nearly as enjoyable as making love to her, Spike decided as he leaned back in his seat and locked his arms behind his neck. She was a bundle of nervous and passionate energy—alternating between pacing the length of the library in unbridled excitement and just as quickly, pausing and taking deep breaths in an obviously futile attempt to calm herself.

Spike loved it.

"Red?" he called out to her in the middle of one of pacing fits.

She stopped and looked over at him, her huge green eyes twinkling at him. "Yes?"

"Come 'ere," he said softly.

Her eyebrow shot up as she shook her head. "I can't! I—I have to—to prepare and think and—"

"Love, come here."

Tipping her head, she smiled sheepishly at him as she shuffled over to where he was seated. Her head dropped as she stared down at her shoes—a deep red blush coloring her cheeks—and she chuckled softly.

"I'm driving you crazy, aren't I?"

"Yep," he said as he grabbed her hand—tugging her reluctant body over to him. He then stuck his cigarette in his mouth and grabbed her by the waist—easily pulling her onto his lap.

Squealing in delight, she fell into his arms and grinned at him. "Sorry," she said, her voice indicating she was anything but. "It's just the idea of actually seeing Amy again—my Amy. I miss her so much. And the spell—"

He pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and kissed her softly on the lips. "You never did tell me how your friend ended up as a rat, love. How 'bout filling me in?"

Her eyes widened as she giggled softly. "Really? Well, I've got a story for you! Ever hear of Hansel and Gretel?"

Spike leaned back in his chair, his arms wrapped tightly around her and once again thanked whoever was watching over him for giving him the precious gift of Willow.

Giles peeked out of his office door and surreptitiously spied on Willow and Spike, forcing himself to really study the two as they were now and not let his own feelings prejudice what he was witnessing.

Shaking his head, he watched in awe as the vampire managed to calm Willow down—something that Giles had yet to master in the three years he had known the young hacker.

In the two days since he had learned of Willow's involvement with the vampire, his emotions had run the gamut: from horror, to anger, then rage, to reluctant acceptance and finally, to seeing what Angel had seen in the other world...

Spike was completely and utterly smitten with the young witch. And from where Giles stood, it was pretty obvious that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe and happy.

No matter what Giles' training had told him, no matter how many years of experience the elder watcher had in dealing with the undead, he had a hard time seeing this as anything other than a blessing.

Especially with Faith running around shooting at his people.

"Mr. Giles, what are you going to do about Willow?"

Giles blinked, momentarily startled at the sound of other watcher's voice—forgetting that Wesley was in the office with him—and stepped back from the door to face the man.

"Do about what?"

"Ms. Rosenberg's insistence on consorting with a vampire. A vampire, I may add, that is known through out the world as one of the most dangerous demons alive to roam the earth. It is unacceptable!"

Giles' lifted his eyebrow as he watched the younger watcher nervously clean his glasses and leaned against the doorframe. "And what, pray tell, do you think I should do about it? Forbid her to see him? I'm hardly in a position to do so. Or maybe I can show her one of the old watcher diaries that detail Spike's nefarious adventures in the past?"

"It may be a start—"

Giles snorted, shaking his head in disgust. "I'm sure Willow's already snuck a peek at them as soon as he first appeared in town. Especially when it came out that Angel was his sire. Along with Buffy—"

"But they're forbidden!"

The older man laughed outright. "Have you ever tried keeping two teenage girls as resourceful and intelligent as Buffy and Willow away from something forbidden that they really want to see? My Lord man, Willow's broken into FBI files on that contraption of hers — you think a lock's going to keep her away?"

"Well—um—I—"

"What I think you should worry about is Will and this link he has with Buffy. I talked to Angel today and he confirmed what Will and Spike told me last night: demons don't dream. And they especially don't have telepathic-like dreams involving the slayer in a favorable note!"

Wesley sighed in defeat. "What do you think they mean?"

"I'm not sure," Giles said, shaking his head. He walked over to his desk and sat down in the chair behind it. "But I do know that Angel was told by his contact—The Whistler—that his redemption no longer lies with Buffy. He's thinking of leaving after graduation."

"You don't think they're related, do you?"

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt the inklings of another headache beginning and sighed loudly, not saying anything.

He really didn't know.

"Happy now?" the slayer asked him as they both dropped Will's purchases onto the couch.

Grinning, he looked up from the one of the bags he had been digging through and froze, suddenly stunned at the sight of the slayer sitting on the arm of the couch—relaxed and at ease—and its obvious implications.

He felt no anger at her lack of fear, only happiness.

He wanted her to accept him as he had already accepted her.

What the fuck was going on with him? Did he feel that way about all humans?

Remembering the young bloke he drained the day before, an odd sense of relief filled him. Still a demon, he told himself. Just not demon-like when it came to her.

Why?

He didn't even realize he was growling softly until a puzzled look washed across the slayer's face.

Taking a deep, unneeded breath, he met her eyes and sighed softly. "Sorry luv, I was just thinking..."

"About what?"

He could hear the tension returning in her voice. Something he had spent most of the night, trying to erase. Cursing, he shoved the packages over to make room for himself, flopped down on the couch and lit a cigarette.

After nearly a minute, he finally broke the silence. "I just don't understand what's happening with me," he said. "Is this," he pointed at her and back at him, "real? Or is a product of a spell? Will it just disappear one day? Do I want it to go away? Or is this just me without the anger and rage of my demon pushing at me all the time?" He shook his head and stared at the cigarette smoke curling its way upward. "Buffy, it's been so long since I've been human, I barely remember who I was then. Maybe this is me. Maybe what's happened to me isn't a soul-like spell, but more of a demon-tamer spell."

Leaning over, he started digging through the bags and after the third one, his fingers finally latched onto what he was looking for: a box of dark brown hair coloring mix. He stared at the picture of the beautiful brunette adorning the box and for the hundredth time that evening, wondered if this was right thing to do.

A part of him still couldn't believe he was actually contemplating this. He'd been a blond for over twenty years. He liked his bleached locks and from what he'd heard, so did everyone else. Even Buffy looked a bit forlorn when she saw him toss the box into his cart.

But once the thought entered his brain, he couldn't push it out.

A clean start. That's what Angel said and Will couldn't help but agree with him. And he did feel free here. Free to be something he wouldn't even have dared to contemplate in his own world. Free to befriend this world's slayer and get to know her.

Free to fight the battles he chose, not just the ones that he was told to fight in.

Free to be the type of vampire he wanted to be—not the demon-driven one he had been in his homeworld.

And if he followed this path, wouldn't it make sense to put as much distance between his old self and the new? That way, not only would the change be complete in a sense, but it would keep this world's Spike from receiving the backlash that was sure to come if Will allied himself with the slayer. This way, whatever he chose to do while living in this world, his actions wouldn't reflect onto the other Spike. He might not have too much control over whatever was going on with him, but at least Spike's reputation wouldn't be affected—one way or another.

"Is that the reason for this?" she asked quietly as she pointed to the box in his hand.

He tossed the box onto the coffee table and turned to face her. "I don't know," he said, not bothering to hide his uncertainty. "Maybe if I put enough distance between who I was and who I'm becoming, whatever's going on will happen more easily. And even more importantly, I'll be able to accept it as well."

Buffy slid off her perch and walked over to sit across from him on the coffee table. "Whatever is going on with you, Will, it's here," she said pointing to his head and then heart. "Not on the outside."

"But didn't you know, luv? Image is everything," he said, smirking at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Whatever," she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Just don't fall into that trap that women are notorious for buying."

"What trap's that?"

"That somehow we can change who we are by how much we change how we look." She shrugged and stood up, walking over to the bookcase. "It doesn't work that way...believe me."

Will stubbed out his cigarette and picked up the box once again. Maybe she has a point, he thought to himself as he set it back down. Maybe he should talk to his other self and see if he could get a better handle on himself that way first, before going through with it. He glanced over at the slayer and watched as she pulled out a book and leafed through it, obviously not paying too much attention to its content.

She was so beautiful—this slayer was. Why had he never seen it with his world’s Buffy? Was it because of what happened to him? Or was this Buffy just different?

He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "All right, luv, you win. I'll talk to my other self before I dye my hair, okay?"

Looking over her shoulder at him, she grinned, nodding. "Good."

"But you want to know what I think?" he asked purposely making his voice drop to a low and seductive tone.

"What? What do you think, Will?"

"I think you just like the blond hair," he said softly, his finger brushing softly against her warm cheek, unable and unwilling to stop himself from touching her.

She gave him a warm smile and to his surprise didn't flinch at his cool touch. Instead, she reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling it away from her face. "It's about time we head over to the library—that is if you still want to go."

His fingers curled around hers as he nodded yes and turned towards the front door.

They left the apartment, still holding hands.

It wasn't until Angel stepped into the library and saw Spike and Willow, that he realized just how much he had missed his childe in the past couple of days. After spending so much time with him in the other world and getting to know him as he was now, Angel found himself actually liking his childe.

When did that happen?

Wasn't it just a couple of months ago that he wanted to wring Spike's scrawny neck? And the year before, when Angel's demon had been in control, all Angel had felt was contempt for him. It wasn't until Angel was in Hell that it was clear to him that somehow the curse had fundamentally changed his demon. There had been a time, pre-curse days, when Angelus had enjoyed Spike's company more than he had Dru's.

Dru had been an obsession—a need to conquer and possess. Angelus had chosen Spike as a childe for far more, dared Angel say, healthier reasons: as a companion and lover. A person who would be his, not Darla's, to show the world to and to teach. For over sixty years, William had been that and more to Angelus...until he had met the young and innocent Druscilla.

Angel's eye landed on Willow and couldn't help noticing the similarities between the two women. Would Dru have turned out to be such a wonderful woman if Angelus hadn't been determined to destroy her?

Shuddering, Angel pushed his other childe from his thoughts and approached the couple sitting at the table.

"Hey Peaches," Spike greeted, sporting his patent smirk.

"Angel! You came!"

Chuckling softly at Willow's obvious excitement, he nodded. "Of course I did. I couldn't miss the great Willow wielding her powerful magic."

Willow giggled softly as she clasped her hands in front of her, twisting them. Spike grabbed them, pulling them apart, shaking his head at her. "None of that, love. You'll break them and then you won't be able to do the spell."

Sighing dramatically, she fell back onto his chest and nodded sullenly. "He's been doing that all night," she said to Angel. "Thank the Goddess," she whispered conspiratorially. "I needed it."

Spike's arm wrapped her waist as he rested his head on her shoulder. "So, did you hear?"

"About your other self?"

Spike nodded, obviously worried.

"Yeah," Angel said, sitting down next to his childe. "Giles came by earlier today and told me. Later, I went to check up on him."

Angel watched Spike's eyebrows crease. "And?"

"And what?"

"Did you kill him?"

Scowling, Angel glared at him. "And why would I do that?"

Willow hand dropped to Spike's knee and grabbed it as she lifted her eyes to Angel. "I think what Spike's worried about—"

"Is the dreams," Angel interrupted. "Yeah, Giles told me about those too." Angel stood up, turning his back on his childe and Willow. "I am worried about the dreams and what this could mean to Buffy, but..."

"But what Angel?" Willow asked, her voice moving closer to him.

Angel turned around to see her standing right behind him, with Spike on her heels. He sighed, feeling the need to talk this over with someone, but wondering if Willow was the right person. How would Buffy react if he left her—again?

Groaning, Angel looked over Willow to meet Spike's questioning glare. For nearly a minute, neither vampire said a word as they silently communicated to one another. Finally, Spike laid his hands on Willow's shoulders and bent his head down to whisper in her ear. "Red, why don't you check and make sure you have everything set up while I go and have a chat with my sire, um?"

Willow turned around and looked at both vampires and nodded. She walked over to her circle in the center of the library, leaving Angel and Spike alone.

"What is it, Peaches?"

Angel ran his fingers through his hair in agitation and finally settled his hands on his hips and looked over at his childe. "Whistler came by last night."

Spike's eyes widened at the news. "What did the wanker want this time?"

Growling softly, Angel turned and looked at the library doors, only partially conscious that he was looking for Buffy as his mind ran over the conversation he and the demon had had. "He wants me to leave Sunnydale...leave Buffy." Angel snorted, shaking his head. "He says my redemption no longer lies with her...that I'm needed elsewhere."

Angel heard a low growl and turned to see his childe's demon face glaring back at him. "And I guess that means you’re leaving then?"

Laughing harshly at the incongruity of his childe, Angel found himself answering Spike with his own growl. "What the hell is wrong with you, Spike? I thought, out of everyone, you would be happiest to see me leave. Well, other than Harris..."

Spike's demon face disappeared as he clenched his jaw. "Yeah well, things change."

Angel felt his body relax as his childe's words penetrated his confusion. Spike too had noticed their reconciliation and like Angel, didn't want it to end. "Yeah, they do," he said, reaching out to the younger vampire and clasping his shoulder. "I just don't know how long I can stay here and not break the curse. You don't know how hard it is to have her this close and to know that all it would take would be a kiss...and I would be lost. Spike, I don't want him back. And after our little adventure, I was reminded all over again, why my soul needs to stay in control."

Sighing in defeat, Spike leaned against the table and began watching Willow as she went over her preparations for the fifth time that night. "I don't know how you lasted this long, Angel." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "It had been so long since I'd been with a human and now that I have..."

"You can't imagine not touching her again...feeling her heat...her hot blood soaring through her veins..."

Chuckling softly, Spike nodded. "Yeah that. But that's not all...it's her. Bloody hell, if your feelings for the slayer are anything like mine are for Willow...well, I don't know how you've lasted this long."

Sensing Buffy's presence, Angel straightened his shoulders and looked down at Spike. "That's the problem, I don't think I can—" he stopped as another presence hit him—a familiar vampiric presence...Will. "They're here—so let's drop it for now."

Spike nodded as he lifted his head and watched as the library doors swung open revealing Buffy and Will walking in together, obviously at ease and comfortable with one another. Buffy was rolling her eyes at the vampire as he was expounding on some adventure of his which, from Angel's perspective, she'd rather not hear, but didn't have the heart to tell him so. He took in Will's appearance and wasn't surprised to see the vampire wearing a completely different outfit. Instead of Spike's black jeans, black tee-shirt and red shirt, Will had chosen a pair of blue jeans and royal blue silk shirt—minus the tee-shirt. He had obviously decided to keep the combat boots and Angel understood why—they were very advantageous in battle—remembering how that same brand of boots had felt when Spike had kicked his butt numerous times with them on. Topping off the outfit was a short, black leather jacket—also new.

Will was spreading his wings slowly and Angel couldn't help but approve, despite its implications.

Well fuck... he thought to himself as he turned to Spike. His childe's dark eyes met his and noted that Spike had come up with the same conclusion as he had.

Angel's eyes closed as he felt a part of his heart shatter just a little bit more.

The first thing Buffy noticed when she stepped inside was the sadness in Angel's eyes. Everything else—Spike and Will's presence, Willow's hovering over Amy's Book of Shadows with Giles and Wesley standing on either side of her, speaking in hushed tones as they discussed the spell—slipped into the background as their eyes met.

Immediately, Buffy knew something had happened.

Something that had nothing to do with Faith or the Mayor or even of the other Spike's strange appearance in their world. No, something had happened to him and Buffy had a feeling that whatever it was, it affected her as well.

Momentarily forgetting about Will, she jogged across the library, stealthily avoiding Willow's circle and stopped just a couple of feet in front of Angel as she reached for his hand.

For a moment, she thought he'd pull away, but much to her relief he didn't; instead he grabbed it tightly in his cool grasp and began walking over to the stacks, pulling her with him.

Buffy followed him willingly, as her heart pounded in fear and confusion.

God, she hated this.

She hated being around him and not being able to touch him. And when they did touch, like now, it was so controlled—almost as if they feared anything sexual would let loose that wild passion that was brimming just underneath the surface with both of them. The last seven months, since his return, had been pure hell on both of them.

It wasn't fair and she hated it. She hated not being able to be with him. She hated the idea she couldn't, in clear conscience, be with anyone else, and more than anything else, she was afraid that sometime in the future that this anger over their situation would turn into something so bitter and hateful, and that their love would be destroyed.

Suddenly Angel had stopped and Buffy looked around saw that they were off to the side next to the outside wall. He leaned his tall and bulky form against the wall and with his free hand, grabbed hers.

"Angel, what's wrong?"

His eyes shut, but not before Buffy saw the pain in them, and he took a deep breath. "How—" he started and shook his head. He began again. "Whistler came by last night."

For a moment, Buffy didn't hear anything other than the rapid beat of her heart. She just knew he had bad news to tell her. The little demon never showed his face unless it was to stir up trouble. Biting her bottom lip, she squeezed his hands, silently urging him to continue.

"I'm thinking of leaving after the Ascension," he said softly, his eyes still shut. "He said that it was time for me to go..."

Tears flooded her eyes as his words sank into her soul. He's leaving me again, the petulant child inside of her screamed. They always left...her father, Angel...twice, now maybe three times. She felt her chest heave as her heart clamored out of control. "What—how do—do you want to?" she finally managed to ask, surprised to hear how small and hurt her voice sounded.

His eyes shot open and met hers—the pain radiating out from them almost palpable in the air. "No!" he said automatically.

"But?"

"But I think I have to," he whispered, his head hung low.

Shattered, Buffy thought. That's what this curse did to them—gave them hope and love and then shattered their hearts.

Destroyed their hopes.

She looked up at him and their eyes met. Suddenly, she was in his arms as she sobbed, crying tears for both of them. And for a future they would never have together. For a live together that was never meant to be.

It was over and there was nothing Buffy or Angel could ever do about it.

Fate saw to that. She made damn sure of it.
 

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