"Oh goody, you're awake," Willow heard a familiar voice whisper in her ear. "Come on, Fluffy, open those big beautiful green eyes."

Willow blinked a couple of times, clearing her vision, to find herself staring up at—herself.

"Shit," she whispered, instantly trying to scramble out of her vampire counterpart's grasp.

"Naughty, naughty, Fluffy. Stop that or you'll make me mad. You don't want to do that now, do you?"

"Fluffy?"

"Your clothes are always so fluffy—so, Fluffy."

Willow groaned softly, silently cursing her other self. She always knew exactly where to hit to hurt. "Where am I?"

The vampire grinned; leaning back on her heals. "In my world. I visited you and now you're visiting me."

"Why?"

The vampire pouted, staring at the floor, making Willow wonder if she ever got pitiful down to the science that her other self did.

"I need you."

Her head shot up, searching the darkness. It couldn't be—he was in Brazil or was it this world's Spike? That would be bad—real bad. No Slayer and end of the world to open his eyes. No Angelus to steal Dru…

Just the cruel, heartless Spike that came to Sunnydale to kill Angel to save Dru.

Willow's throat dried up as she watched him step into view. All it took was one look into his dark eyes—twinkling in familiarity and she let out a silent sigh of relief.

Not that her Spike was safe, but at least she knew him. They had a past. Albeit it was filled with kidnapping, love spells, dead slayers and death attempts, but she was still alive—which was something of an anomaly in comparison to the rest of Spike's history—so he definitely received got a gold star for that.

At least as far as Willow was concerned.

He kneeled down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up to her feet. "Come on, love—"

She shivered slightly, feeling a cool breeze on her bare legs. "Oh Goddess—you took me from my bed!" She nearly growled, glowering at her counterpart.

"Well, I sleep during the day!"

"What about kidnapping me before I'm asleep in—in my Snoopy pajamas!"

She heard Spike snicker behind her and she felt her temper rise. Ignoring the blond vampire, she stamped her foot. "After what happened to us in second grade—you'd think you'd have a bit more compassion—"

The redhead vampire shot up and grabbed Willow by the chin, squeezing her. Willow bit on her bottom lip to stop from whimpering out loud. "I'm a vampire, Fluffy, I don't have any compassion!" She dropped her hand and leaned over to kiss Willow on her cheek, her cool lips sending another round of chills through out her body. "Besides, I killed every last one of them that made fun us—hurt us—so," she paused, her face shifting to her demon countenance, "get over it."

Willow unconsciously backed away from her and found herself bumping into a cold lean body behind her. She turned her head to see Spike watching her, smirking. His arm slipped around her waist and he bent his head down to her ear.

"We've only got a couple of hours until sunlight, luv—let's get out of here. Our guest has generously supplied you with a change of clothing. It's in the other room."

Willow nodded, definitely wanting to put as much space between her and her vampire self as possible, when Spike dropped his hold from her waist to her hand and began leading them out of the room.

"Oh Spikey—"

If Willow hadn't been so close to him, she wouldn't have felt the instant tension radiating from him, he hid it so well.

"Yes Willow?"

Human Willow felt her move more than actually hearing her. One minute she was across the room, the next she could feel her body pressed against both Spike and her as her as the vampiress gave Spike a passion-filled, open-mouthed kiss.

Not even realizing it, she turned and watched the two, fascinated and repelled at the same time. That was her kissing Spike. Would she look like that if she did that? As the other Willow's human face slid off, human Willow felt her blood rise to the surface and her breath shorten in response. What was it that Angel said? His demon face came on when extreme emotions were involved—so, what did this say about the other Willow? Or Spike, for that matter, whose hold on her hand tightened even more though his human face was still on?

Spike was the one that finally broke the kiss and stepped back, tugging Willow back into the safety of his arms as he looked down at the other vampire.

"Kiss him like that, love and you may just get what you want."

Willow's mask melted back on as she turned her attention back to her human counterpart. She cupped Willow's face and kissed her chastely on the lips. "Have fun, Fluffy!"

She sauntered past both of them and left the room.

Willow couldn't help but sigh out loud in relief. She looked up at Spike and frowned. "Promise me—that if you kill me—you kill me and not turn me." She shuddered just thinking about it. "I don't think the universe can handle more than one of us—like—like that."

She felt Spike's chest rumble as he squeezed her waist. "Love, I'll promise you—right here and now—if I ever turn you, it's with your soul."

He slipped his arm out and walked over to the door, opening it. He bent down and grabbed a paper bag and tossed it over to her. "These are you clothes. Sorry about the style, but that's all she had. We have to get out of here—it's not safe." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, leaning back against the door. "I never thought I would say this, but I finally understand why there's a Slayer. This place is crazy." He tapped his foot as he sent Willow a cool glare. "Come on, Red, get at it—"

Shaking her head, she dumped the contents of the bag onto the dusty concrete floor. She instantly recognized the outfit. "Why this one? I hated it the first time," she whispered to herself as she picked up the black and red leather bustier. Scanning the room, she found what she was looking for and picked up the clothes and boots that were given to her. Walking over to a stack of boxes, she stepped behind them, only her head visible and began shedding her favorite pair of pajamas.

Her double took her from her bed. Out of everything that had happened to Willow in the past three years, somehow she was having the hardest wrapping her mind around this.

That, and how her counterpart didn't believe in underwear.

Groaning, she kicked off the boxers and slipped on the leather pants, silently thanking the Goddess for no water weight and zipped them up, instantly feeling as if she'd shed her skin for a cow's hide. Pulling off her shirt, she gave her chest a cursory glance and sighed softly. She still didn't understand how her breasts could look so small now and so huge in that.

Shaking her head, she slipped her arms through the sleeves and quickly began the arduous task of lacing the stupid thing up, all the while wondering if this wasn't some strange nightmare caused by that horribly tasting bean burrito from Taco Bell she ate right before going to bed earlier that night.

Because if it wasn't, Willow was in deep trouble.

Ten minutes later, hand in hand, Spike and Willow stepped out of the non-descript warehouse into the late night air.

For the first time in her relatively short life, Willow felt like Alice in Wonderland and she just stepped through mirror.

Everything around her was familiar, yet off keel. Even she, a novice witch, could feel the Hellmouth's cloying presence—it seemed to darken all that it touched.

And the streets were filled—just not with humans. In that half-hour trek across Sunnydale, Willow saw more demons than she ever had in her world in the past three years put together. As they passed one, tentacles and slime dripping off him, Spike stiffened, a low growl coming from him.

Remembering his description from the time he kidnapped her, Willow figured that must be a Chaos Demon.

He was right. They were ugly, gross and slimy.

"Bloody bitch," he murmured to himself, his cool fingers nearly crushing her hot and sweaty ones.

"Where—where are we—we going, Spike?"

He stopped walking and turned to her, his eyes traveling her body as an amused smirk crossed his face. "Red, never knew you had in you," he said, as his hand lifted and caressed her leather-clothed waist. "A lot better than her." He started circling her, his eyes burning her with intensity.

Her heart took off, suddenly flashing on the other Willow and him embracing and she closed her eyes against the image. Bad Willow—you have enough problems—no lusting after Spike!

Suddenly he was back behind her, his arm pulling her against him. She shouldn't have been surprised to feel his hard-on, because it only added to the craziness of the whole night. His cool lips touched her neck—right at her pulse point. "We're in a bloody lot of trouble Red and I think it just got worse."

Willow felt her throat close as her head swam. Why Spike? Why not Angel? Or the other Giles? Ever since he kidnapped her, he was the one that ruled her fantasies. Not Oz, not Xander—but him. "Oh Goddess," she whispered as she arched her neck and looked up, meeting his hot gaze.

His human face flickered and he pushed her away, growling softly. "We don't have bloody time for this!" he yelled as he walked over to her and grabbed her arm, dragging her.

"The bloody bitch takes me from my perfectly normal, miserable existence into this bloody madhouse to give her fucking love life tips!"

Willow stopped at what he said, nearly falling to her knees as Spike yanked mercilessly onto her arm. "Come on, Red, we're almost there—then we can talk about this."

Nodding as she concentrated on walking in the stupid heels of the equally stupid leather boots, she began to wonder if giving her counterpart mercy had been mistake.

Because it certainly was looking like it—at least from where she was standing.

Five minutes later, he pulled her behind an abandoned store to the back door. After unlocking, he dragged her inside.

Once the door closed, Willow could see no more.

She heard him lock it and push something heavy across the floor and then he was there—by her side.

"Can you see, Red?"

"Not a thing," she whispered, feeling her heart begin to race—this time in fear.

Suddenly she in the air and pressed against a cool, hard chest. "I'll just carry you the rest of the way. It's easier."

She nodded silently as she finally succumbed to her terror and burrowed her face under the flaps of his coat against his chest.

Please let this be a nightmare, she thought to herself as she felt his descend a flight of stairs and finally stop moving as he unlocked another door.

She heard a flick and felt the light go on more than actually witnessing it. She pulled her head out and studied the room as he gently placed her down on her feet.

They were in a somewhat large, yet oddly comfy room. One queen-sized bed, dresser, two night stands, a small kitchenette, with a table and two chairs, a couch and a color television set, with a VCR and stereo hooked up to it.

A bomb shelter. Spike found himself a bomb shelter.

Exhausted, she walked over to the bed and sat down on the corner, pulling off her boots as she watched the vampire open the refrigerator and pull out a blood bag. After opening it, he poured the contents into a mug and stuck it in what looked like a brand new microwave and started it.

She fell back onto the bed.

The night was just filled with surprises. She never thought she'd see the day when Spike would bag it.

"What's going on here, Spike? Are you sure this isn't some weird, warped dream of mine and that I'll wake up tomorrow morning and go to the library with Oz and once again spend my weekend researching on how to stop the Mayor's ascension?"

"So, he's finally ascending, eh?"

She nodded wearily.

"Well Red, they'll just have to make do without you—'cause this is real. Sorry."

"Why? Why am I here?"

The microwave beeped twice and Spike opened it, grabbing the mug and walked over to the bed, placing the cup on the nightstand and sat down behind her. He picked up her head and placed it on his thigh and chuckled softly.

After drinking his blood, his cool fingers began to twirl her hair.

Although Willow knew almost immediately upon her arrival that he had no plans to kill her, she did wonder where all her fear went. Was it the leathers? Or could it be that he was sober and a sober, lucid Spike was much more preferable to a drunk and angry Spike.

Or it could be that some part of her brain was still operating under the dream theory and hadn't quite caught up with facts.

Whatever the case, Willow just shut her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy his attentions. "About a week ago, I was sitting in a bar in Mexico, getting shit-faced as usual. Dru did take me back, by the way. But the bloody bitch still wasn't faithful. I found her with that fucking Chaos Demon a week after she declared her love for me.

"That was it. The bloody bitch! I left, headed north and found myself in a dirty, shit-poor town in the middle of Mexico, raiding their donated blood supply and getting drunk.

"And then suddenly, I was no longer sitting on my favorite bar stool that I had spent the last three months drowning my sorrows on. I was laying on the floor, just like you were tonight, staring up at her."

Willow opened her eyes and sat up. "She brought you here? Why did she do that?"

Spike chuckled softly. "That, my dear, is your fault."

"Mine?"

He lit a cigarette, grinning at her. "Not that I can blame you—blabbing about my attributes to her—"

Willow felt her stomach flip as her face reddened in embarrassment. "She brought it up—wanted to know if I met you and what I thought." She started wringing her hands and shrugged. "I just told her."

His finger tipped her head up. "Red, look at me."

Tears sprung in her eyes as she shook her head. "Oh that bitch! I should've let Buffy stake her!"

"Love, look at me."

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she lifted her eyes and met his. What she saw surprised her. There was no malice or rejection there—just acceptance.

"Why do you think Dru kept cheating on me?"

She shrugged. "I—I don't know—why?"

This time, he looked away as he stared off to the side. "Dru could always tell things. See them—see into people's hearts. She saw you—even before I did."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged and turned his attention back to her. "For what?"

"That you lost her. I know that you love her."

He took a last drag off the cigarette and put it out. He nodded in agreement. "But I don't think I've been in love with her for at least a year. Remind me sometime, to tell you about all the fun I had last year living under the same roof as my sire and Dru while stuck in that blasted wheelchair."

"Okay," she said as a yawn slipped out. She turned and lay back down, this time placing her head on his lap. "So, why did she bring you here?"

"Here's the good part. It seems that she lost Xander to the slayer."

"Buffy?"

He nodded. "She finally came to Sunnydale, just a bit late. It sounds like she wasn't as strong here as there, but she caused enough pain anyway. Somehow, she freed the great Poof and following Fate, they ended up in bed together and within a week of the Slayer being in town, she managed to release Angelus."

"Oh Jesus."

"My feelings exactly. Apparently, he's just as nuts here as in our world. Claimed Willow instantly—causing descent among the other vampires. Xander left the main lair and one night while out by himself, he managed to meet up with the Slayer." Willow watched as he rubbed his face in exhaustion. "About that same time, I came back—without Dru. Never being able to extract Angelus from the Master's grasp, she finally just withered away one day. I woke up to discover a pile of dust where she had lain the night before."

Willow sat up in shock. She'd known that Dru was weak when they came to Sunnydale, but she had no idea how close to death that she had been. "I never knew it was--was that bad."

He nodded. "I knew."

He lit another cigarette. "Willow and Spike were immediately drawn to one another. Although they had met the year before, they'd been with their mates and somehow instinctively knew that they needed to keep their distance. Now, there were no barriers."

"What about Angelus?"

"Hence the problem. Spike wants Willow…Willow wants Spike…Angelus wants Willow…Willow is drawn to Angelus—she says their demons recognize each other or some load of shit…and finally Spike hates Angelus, because his sire is alive and Dru is dead. So, Willow wants them both and called me across dimensions to help her sort out this mess."

Willow closed her eyes as her mind sorted out the chaos that her counterpart had gotten herself into, but there were questions that still hadn't been answered. She sighed softly; unable to hid her frustration or exhaustion. "Let me guess—your advice wasn't enough?'

She felt him grab her arms and haul her body over to his, settling her on his lap. "Nope love, you're wrong there. Now, she's a happily satiated vampire bouncing back and forth between lovers like a bloody football. No," he stopped as he looked down at her. "You're here because she doesn't know how to send me back." His chest shook with laughter. "Apparently, the Watcher keeps a better handle on his books here than he ever did in our world. She needs a book of his and you're the only person she knows that can get it."

He shook his head, outright laughing. "It's not like I can bloody go to Giles and ask him to send me home. I'd end up in a Dustbuster faster than it takes for me to light a cigarette. These, as she calls them, 'White Hats' are bit more stake happy than our bunch. Fucking don't blame them—with the Master around and all these demons taking over the town. It's like a convention for Hell's minions here. I'd never thought I'd say this, but I hate it." He reached over and turned the television on. "Look at this—old movies. That's it. Not even a bloody infomercial. The station's owned by a three-hundred year old master vampire with a pension for Peter Cushing movies."

Finally Willow couldn't take it anymore. The manic laughter that had been bubbling up since she'd awaken overtook her as she let out a loud guffaw. Clutching her stomach, she bent over as her whole body shook, tears flooded her eyes and her bladder threatened to overflow.

It was just too much.

Here she was sitting in the arms of a master vampire bemoaning the fact that this alternate reality was just too evil for his liking. No MTV or CNN for Spike—just reruns of Count Dracula's Bride and Lon Chaney's rendition of The Werewolf…

After nearly ten minutes, her body finally stopped shaking. More out of exhaustion than anything else. Yawning, she fell back into Spike's body and looked up at him through her watered eyes. "So," she said as her stomach clinched once again and her body shook with soundless laughter. "I have to go see Giles tomorrow."

He nodded.

"And tell him what exactly? I can just see it. If I managed to get through the doors without getting staked myself—which is a definite possibility as long as I am wearing her clothes—"

"Tell him about the Ascension, love. I bet you, he doesn't know. They're probably too busy chasing Angelus around and trying to keep an independent and heartless slayer under wraps to even have an inkling that their mayor is about to become a high-ranking demon…"

Willow nodded slowly and turned in his lap. "What about clothes? Do you have any money?"

He nodded over to nightstand. "Yes, dear old Willow made sure that you would be taken care of. She actually likes you, love."

Willow rubbed her eyes. "At least one of us does. Right now, I'm still wishing that I let Buffy stake her."

He chuckled softly as he slipped out from underneath her. He picked up the paper bag and tossed it on to the bed. "The bathroom's through that door," he said pointing across the room, by the entranceway. "You may as well get ready for bed." He kicked off his boots. "Wake me up when you want to leave, and I'll move the bookcase." He snapped his fingers and pulled open a drawer, taking out a cell phone. "Here's a phone for you—my number is the programmed in it. You can call when you need to get back inside."

Willow pulled her aching body off the bed and took the phone. "Why all the precautions? What else going on?"

He shook his head. "Tomorrow, Willow. I'm too bloody tired to get into it. You should be fine as long as you get back here by dark. If you can't, call and I'll come and get you." He started unbuttoning his shirt.

Willow nodded, forcing her exhausted limbs to move as she walked across the room to the bathroom. It wasn't until she closed the door behind, did the severity of her situation finally hit her.

She was stuck in an evil, alternative universe where the Master ruled and the Hellmouth opened for special occasions and her only ally was a soul-less demon that not only kidnapped her just months before, but had tried to kill her on numerous occasions in the past two years.

And they were sharing a bed.

And to top it off, late at night, when her thoughts were just her own and her fantasies could be played out in the depths of her mind and heart in solitude, he, this same soul-less vampire, was cast in the role as her leading man.

"Oh Goddess," she whispered to herself, feeling her face turn red at the thought of sleeping next to the hard, lean body of Spike's. Try as she may, thoughts of Oz had long ago slipped out of her consciousness, only to be replaced by the vampire.

Hitting her forehead in frustration, Willow tried to ignore that nagging, devil-may-care part in her mind that was screaming that she should go for it. He was obviously interested. He said as much earlier.

But Oz.

She loved her werewolf, as taciturn as he was. He made her feel warm, safe and loved. When she was with him, the world just seemed to be a much more comfortable place.

Never before had she felt that kind of comfort.

But Spike…

Groaning softly, she reached behind her and tried to unlace the bustier, but found that it was much easier to put on than take it off.

"Damnit," she murmured as she dropped her hands and began unzipping the leather pants. After peeling them off her legs, freeing her skin to breathe, she let out a small sigh of relief.

She hadn't realized how confining they were until she had taken them off.

She slipped on her Snoopy boxers and grabbed the nightshirt and took one last deep breath, preparing herself to face Spike.

Chuckling softly at herself, she finally just opened the door and stepped out, with her shoulders straight and looked up to see Spike watching her, once again smirking.

Why was he smirking?

Frowning, she dropped her pants and boots onto the couch and walked over to the bed and sat down next to Spike, her back turned. "Can you unlace this contraption?" she asked, desperately trying to make her voice sound hard and nonchalant instead of the scared and timid she was really feeling.

She felt the bed move and voice whisper into her ear.

She nearly jumped out of the bed.

"Certainly, pet."

She felt her toes curl at the low, breathy tone of his voice.

Suddenly his cool fingers brushed against her neck and upper back as she felt him slowly and methodically untie the lace that held the bustier to her chest.

As the minutes rolled by, she found herself anticipating his careless touch on her back—each one sending shivers through out her body. So engrossed, she didn't even realize he was done, until she felt his cool lips as they pressed up against the back of her neck.

She whimpered softly as she tried arching into his touch. His arms slipped around her waist and pulled her back up against his chest as his mouth began raining kisses on her neck and jaw line.

One final tug had Willow on his lap and turned so she could face him. She looked up at his eyes and wasn't surprised to see the blue flickering with the yellow of the demons.

For nearly a minute neither of them moved—eyes locked on one another—when Spike finally dropped his head and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Time to go to bed, ducks," he whispered as he reached over and grabbed her forgotten shirt and tossed it over to her. With her back turned, Willow pulled the bustier off and slipped on her nightshirt while Spike switched off the light. Falling back onto the pillows, he pulled Willow with him and wrapped his cool body around her hot one.

Confused, yet grateful, Willow found herself finally succumbing to exhaustion, when one final thought seeped into her mind—she never imagined feeling this safe, this comfortable in a vampire's arms.
 

It wasn't until she was standing in front of Sunnydale High School, did she realize just how crazy this plan of theirs really was.

For the fiftieth time since she left the mall, Willow wished there had been a way she could've picked up a bulletproof vest.

She was scared. Petrified actually.

She remembered the cold, heartless Buffy the fall after she killed the Master and that Buffy loved Willow—this Buffy believed the hacker to be the enemy—a soul-less vampire that stole her boyfriend.

Oh yes, this is going to be fun, she thought to herself as she glanced down at her new very Willowy outfit. Overalls, a bright and colorful striped shirt and a hat.

Willow hated it.

It had been a long time since she went clothes shopping. She usually allowed her mother to do the honors and just wore the results without visibly clenching her teeth.

But today was different.

She was there, shopping by herself, with more than enough money to clothe her for a year, and Willow found herself drawn to a much different style.

Shorter skirts, a bit more leather (but nothing as tight and confining as her counterpart preferred), a lot more satin and silk and deep, primal colors that seemed to bring out Willow's complexion and hair and eye color.

After today, she would wear those.

But with this meeting looming ahead of her, she forced herself to buy one last Willowy-outfit and once again clench her teeth in compliance.

Just like a soldier who needed his gun and uniform, Willow needed whatever protection this illusion provided. That, plus the huge crucifix that hung around her neck and lay on her bare skin—visible for all to see.

But she was under no delusion that these artifacts would prove her sincerity. This meeting was not going to go over well, no matter what type of clothes she wore, what religious artifacts were on her person or how much she begged and pleaded for their understanding.

These people were not her friends.

They didn't even know her.

Sighing, she pulled out the cellphone and hit the speed dial.

"Yes love?"

"How did you know it was me?"

A low laugh echoed through the phone. "No one else would call me in the middle of the day. What's up, Red?"

Shifting on her feet, she stared across the street to the building that loomed in front of her.

"Remind me once again why I'm doing this." Biting her bottom lip, her eyes shut for a second as she tried to gather her thoughts. "I mean, I've faced Hellmouth demons, the Master, two soul-restorations, my angry, confused doppelganger on a bad hair day, one treacherous slayer bent on my destruction and you rip-roaring drunk, yet going in there is scaring the living daylights out of me—which I can't afford, considering I'm human and all."

"Where are you?"

"Standing in front of the high school, staring at the front entrance as I mentally kick myself for the thousandth time since last night for stopping Buffy from staking her."

She began pacing; her eyes glued to the school as she listened to Spike chuckle softly--his voice sending warm shivers down her spine.

"Pet, because the alternative is unthinkable. Just think, a lifetime being stuck down in this bloody bomb shelter with me watching Lon Chaney movies while I scheme to find a way to bring you across and not risk creating another hellcat like the one that caused us all this pain to begin with…"

She nodded, knowing he was right. There was no way that they could stay together and her remain human—at least not here.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me—before I go in there and risk life and limb? Like why you're so into home security…?"

Nearly a minute ticked by before he answered.

"Both Angelus and the other Spike know of you and me. Angelus—the bloody prick that he is, wants to hurt me for causing him to lose his hold on his Willow—which means he could very well go after you. And from what I've heard that Spike is curious about you."

"And that means?"

"Red, I was curious about you before I kidnapped you. And remember, he doesn't have the same history with you and the rest of your bloody mates that I do." Another lengthy pause. "And apparently the Master, your sire here, is intrigued enough with the prospect of having two Willow's to follow his whim, that he's got a standing order to bring you in when you've been spotted."

Willow nearly bit through her lip as she felt her temper rise. "Damn her—she's a walking poster-girl for chaos."

After picking up her duffel bag and backpack, she straightened her shoulders, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable—the meeting. Although she knew that there hadn't been a choice in the matter, now that she knew all the facts, whatever reservations she had, disappeared.

"Spike?"

"Yeah love."

"Thanks. I'll call you when I know what's going on."

She heard the television being turned on. "No problem, Red. Damnit, I forgot! No Jerry Springer here."

"See ya," she said as she stopped at the foot of the stairs and closed the phone. "Ready or not, Giles, here I come," she whispered softly as she jogged up the stairs.

As she opened the door, she uttered one last prayer to the Goddess, hoping there was just a bit of friends in these strangers—just enough so she could get through them.

Because if she couldn't, her death seemed to be pretty imminent.

"Giles, Willow's missing," Buffy said as she slammed through the library doors.

Her ex-Watcher stepped out of his office, book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other and stopped to look up at her. "Are you sure, Buffy? She could be—be with Oz."

She shook her head, worry lines creasing her forehead. "Nope, Oz was the one that called me. He was supposed to take her to breakfast before coming here. When no one answered the door, he went inside and found that she was gone and called me." She flopped down into one of the chairs, next to Wesley.

"And what did you find there?" her watcher asked.

Her eyes shut as she remembered and shuddered violently. "It felt funky—my spider sense went off the scale. Some serious mojo went on in there. The room looked as if a tornado swept through it—everything was tossed about. No sign of her pajamas—but her computer, purse, backpack were all there." She looked up and met Giles eyes. "Can you go over there and see? If I felt it, I'm sure you, with your magic background, might be able sense something more."

He placed his book and tea on the table and nodded. "Of course, Buffy. Anything for Willow."

As the two headed for the doors, Buffy heard Wesley's chair being shoved back. "Wait for me—"

Shaking her head, she stopped, not surprised that Giles did so as well, and waiting for Wesley.

If she hadn't been so worried about Willow, she might've snapped at the bumbling fool that had been sent as her watcher.

But concern for her best friend filled her heart and mind.

As she stared at the wooden stake pressed uncomfortably on her chest; she once again uttered a small curse to her counterpart.

How many did that make?

"Buffy—"

"Shut up!" The Slayer growled as her hold tightened on Willow's arms. Did that stake just go in a bit further?

Willow felt her eyes tear up. Goddess, she was going to die by the hand of her best friend. A strange, angry version of her best friend. A Faith-like Buffy with a scar across her mouth. This Buffy also didn't have the same inner beauty her Buffy did. Too much anger and darkness filled this slayer.

"Ah, Buffy—maybe we—we should listen to her. She is—is human after all."

Willow shot a grateful look at the watcher, seeing a bit of the same warmth in his eyes as she did her Giles.

"Buffy, I understand your anger—but this is Willow," Oz interjected. "I remember her. Like this," he added softly, his voice wrought with pain.

Amy nodded. "She's not a vampire—or I'd be able to feel her."

The Slayer's grip loosened, but Willow was smart enough not to move—not until she heard from Buffy herself that it was all right to.

"Okay," she said, pushing Willow away, causing her to fall onto her knees. "Who the hell are you and what the fuck do you want?"

Willow winced at the coldness in her voice and slowly stood up, only peripherally aware that no one went out of his or her way to help her.

No Kansas here, Toto. No Xander to break the tension. No happy Buffy to wear the weight of the world on her shoulders like she did her newest cool-looking shirt. No Cordelia to state the obvious in her sometimes harsh, tactless way.

Nope, she really did step through the looking glass this time.

Once standing, she turned her attention to Giles, knowing that he would be the easiest to get through to. And if he believed her, he could explain what happened to her so that the others could see the truth behind her words as well.

"My name is Willow Anne Rosenberg and in my world, Buffy is my best friend—"

"What?" Larry snorted, shaking his head in obvious disbelief.

"Explain," the slayer's voice seemed even harsher than minutes before.

"Unlike here, you came to my Sunnydale when you were supposed to. You stopped the Harvest—the Master rising—all of it. Xander and I were never turned, though we did lose Jesse the night before the Harvest. Angel remained free and Angel for at least a year before his curse was broken." Willow swallowed heavily, her eyes darting to Oz—not her Oz—and Amy, Goddess she missed her. She was tired of trying to de-rat her friend. "And Oz is my boyfriend and has been for over a year."

Giles leaned back against a table as he took off his glasses and rubbed his visibly tired eyes. "How—how did you get here?"

Willow gritted her teeth. "My other-self! I was tricked into helping the demon Anyanka a few months ago and ended up bringing Willow—your Willow—into our world." She shook her head ruefully. "I don't know if any of you could understand what its like to meet the antithesis of yourself, and yet see yourself in there—I asked Buffy not to stake her and we sent her back here—her home." She stopped and looked up at Giles. "I'm sorry I couldn't let her be killed. She's me—but not. It's weird and Goddess, if I'd known that she was going to do this, I might have let Buffy do it. No, who am I kidding? I couldn't—regardless. Just like I couldn't let Xander stake souled-Angel…"

"Willow—why did she bring you here?"

"Huh? Oh, you're not going to like this. My Giles wouldn't like this—but—but…"

"Get to it!"

Buffy's voice sliced through her as easily as if she had been wielding a knife. Willow began wringing her hands in front of her, staring at the floor. "I wa—wasn't the—the first person she—she brought over," she stopped and took a deep breath. "Sp—Spike was the first one. Our Spike—whose different than your Spike. I mean, he's still a soul-less vampire and everything, but he's not as bad as your Spike. He's helped Buffy—our Buffy—save the world—and hasn't tried actually killing us in over a year and he's stuck here and hates it." She lifted her head and found five people staring at her in shock. "She brought me over so I could get the spell from you, Giles, and send us both back," she finished softly, her head bowed once again.

She heard the slayer begin to pace behind her. "Let me get this straight, you—Willow from a different world—need our help to send you and your vampire boytoy back to your world."

Willow's head shot up at the sheer hatred in her best friend's counterpart's voice. Tears filled her eyes as the impact of her change settled on Willow. "Boytoy? I told you, Oz is my boyfriend."

"Then why are you concerned about Spike?" Oz asked softly.

"Because he didn't ask for this any more than I did! You know what he was doing before she brought him over? He was sitting in a bar in Mexico, getting drunk and had been living off of bagged blood for nearly three months!" She whipped around and faced Buffy. "How's that for dangerous and evil? Listen—he's our Buffy and Angel's problem—"

"I thought you said your Angel lost his soul?" Amy asked.

"He did. We—we found the restoration spell in Ms. Calendar's things. I did the spell."

"You're a witch?" her childhood friend asked her, moving closer to her.

Willow gave Amy a small smile. "Not like you—I wasn't born to it. But I do seem to have a natural aptitude for it. Except I can't seem to de-rat you in our world." Willow began ringing her hands again as she met Amy's eyes. "Can we talk before I go back?"

Amy's eyes widened. "I'm a rat?"

Willow nodded solemnly, embarrassed. "It's a long story." She glanced at her watch and saw that it was past five in the afternoon. She was going to have to call Spike now. She turned to Giles. "So, will you help us?"

The watcher closed his eyes and sighed. "Can you come by tomorrow afternoon. We'll give you an answer then."

Willow nodded, somehow knowing that she lost them. They weren't going to help her and Spike. Then she remembered her ace in the hole. "Wait—before I leave. Who's the mayor here?"

"Wilkins," Larry supplied.

"Goofy, kind of a gee-golly-whiz kinda guy?"

"Yeah, that's him," Oz said. "Why?"

"In my world, which is one of the reasons why I need to get back, he's preparing for his ascension—to become a demon," Willow tucked her hair behind her ear as she met the surprised stare of Giles'. "He's invulnerable right now. His ascension is supposed to happen on Graduation day. I'm not sure if the same thing is happening here, but if we follow the theory that our universes were identical up to Buffy arriving in Sunnydale three years ago, than we can also safely assume that your Wilkins is planning to do the same thing here." She took a deep breath and turned to Oz. "Check the Hall of Records—my Oz found an old newspaper clipping and photo of him—Wilkins. He's over a hundred years old."

She turned and picked up her duffel bag and backpack. Once she had everything, she glanced back and felt her eyes water as she stared at the distrustful and angry people that were her friends in her world. Spike was right. This wasn't their world. It hurt to see what they've become. "I'll see you tomorrow," Willow said as she stepped out the door and headed for the bathroom.

Not only did she need a good cry, but she also had to change into a less-Willowy more vampire-like outfit so maybe she could keep the Master, Angelus and Spike off kilter.

As Giles set about to make his afternoon tea, he listened to the frantic pacing of his slayer in the other room.

Willow was gone.

And Buffy had been right; the cause had been magic.

If he hadn't seen Amy, still enclosed in her cage, Giles might've been inclined to believe that Willow tried another de-ratting spell for her friend and something went terribly wrong with the spell. He even went as far as having Oz go and get Michael and have him get a feel for the room and between the both of them, they decided Willow, at least their Willow, was not the one who performed the spell.

Although he hadn't said anything to Buffy, he was worried. The impressions he had gotten from the room seemed to feel like Willow, but they were off. Even Oz felt it.

If Giles didn't know better, he would've believed it had been her doppelganger—for she would carry the same magical signature as Willow, but it would lack the goodness that their Willow seemed to infuse into all of her spells.

Sighing, he picked up the phone and called Angel. He was experienced in magic and he was a vampire. Maybe he would be able to see something that none of them had.

Anything for Willow, he told himself as he heard the vampire's voice on the other end of the line. Anything…

After splashing a good amount of water on her face, she stared at her complexion and sighed.

She looked as tired as she felt.

How was she going to pull this off?

Vampires didn't have dark circles under their eyes and their faces didn't look as weary as hers did either.

By glamour spells, she told herself as she began pulling out the outfit she chose for herself. She grinned to herself as she held it up in the mirror. It wasn't by accident that she bought an outfit that was nearly identical to the one she wore a couple of Halloween's ago. Back then, she hadn't been ready to wear it. Now, not only did she not have a choice, she was actually looking forward to seeing Spike's reaction when he saw her.

It would be priceless.

Smiling to herself, she pulled out the phone and called him.

"Where the hell are you?"

"Hello to you too. Miss me?"

He growled softly. "Red, where are you? I'm halfway up to the school now—"

"In the bathroom at the high school. I'm changing."

"How did it go?"

Willow's eyes watered. "Not good. They don't trust me. They called you my boytoy."

He laughed outright. "Boytoy, eh? Sounds kinky."

She unbuckled her overalls, and held the phone up, allowing the straps to fall. Once propping the phone in between her head and ear, she sighed. "She didn't mean it as a compliment. Goddess Spike, she's so cold. Nothing like Buffy—our Buffy."

"I know, love. I don't particular care for the slayer, but I've watched this one and she's just a killing machine. It's gonna cost her too. Most likely her life and a lot sooner than the slayer—our slayer's."

Willow kicked off her pants. "Spike, I've got to go. I need to finish before you get here. Be careful—she'll kill you."

"Don't worry, luv, she'll just have to take a number. See you in a few."

"Bye," she whispered into the dead connection.

"Who were you talking to?"

Willow whipped around and found herself facing Amy. She sighed and pulled off her shirt. "Spike. He's coming to walk me home."

"Why are you changing?"

Willow began pulling off the price tags of the leather skirt. She frowned, looking up at the blond witch. "The master wants to have two Willows under his tutelage. Angelus wants to hurt my Spike—and probably would like to fuck with the human version of his Willow. She did torture him for a year before Buffy freed him. And your Spike is curious—wants to meet me or something like that. So, this is my attempt to look as vampirish as possible. If I look like vamp Willow, maybe, at least the minions, will leave me alone."

Amy nodded, acknowledging the logic in Willow's actions. "A few glamour spells will give you that pale, dead look as well as get rid of those dark circles."

Willow stepped into the skirt, grateful for the panties sewn in them. "It was next on the agenda." She pulled out the green leather top and cleaned it off as well. That done, she pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra. Turning her back on the witch, she took off her bra and slipped the shirt on. Just as she was buttoning her shirt, she heard Amy gasp behind her.

"You are Willow. I didn't believe it until just now—but you're her," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Willow turned to face her and saw tears running down Amy's face. Willow felt her own eyes water in response. Instinctively, she held her arms out and Amy fell in them, crying. "I'm sorry Amy. Goddess, I don't know how you've managed—it's so dark here." She started chuckling. "Even Spike hates it."

Amy pulled back, watching her carefully. "How can you be so blasé about him? I know he's not the same as our Spike. But he did kill two slayers…"

Willow nodded. "Yeah, I know. And tried numerous times to make Buffy the third. But she beat him every time. Put him in a wheelchair for nearly six months. I think that, plus Angelus' return, not quite mellowed him, but opened his eyes. Not all demons are evil, Amy. Some actually choose to fight on the good side." Willow shrugged. "Maybe eventually, our Spike will do that. I don't know. But I do know, that he won't try to destroy the world or open the Hellmouth—and sometimes, that's enough. I trust him—for right now. For me. And I know he won't turn me, at least not without a soul-restoration spell at hand. He agrees with me that another vampire Willow would not be a good thing."

Amy chuckled softly and nodded. "About de-ratting my other self? Try my Book of Shadows. Maybe you needed some sort of verbal okay to see the spell—but it's there. Hopefully, the Goddess will recognize me as a person close enough to her to give you permission."

Willow couldn't stop the smile that broke across her face. "Thank you. I miss my Amy. Although Buffy, in a lot of ways, is my best friend—along with Xander—you, or her, are my anchor. And you see me for who I really am—not who everyone wants me to be."

Amy gave Willow one last squeeze. "I'll try to convince them to help you guys—"

"What finally convinced you?"

Amy gave Willow a small smile. "You turned around when you had to take off your bra. Our Willow was pretty modest too. That, and what you said about Spike and your other self. Only someone who really knew you would understand that that was just Willow speaking. Willow with a big heart and a kind and gentle soul. I miss—" her voice cracked as her eyes watered. "I miss that Willow."

Willow nodded. "There's always the restoration spell, Amy. The soul is not responsible for what the demon has done."

"But the happiness clause."

"You're right. Our Angel is walking that fine line right now. But if given time and research, I know in my gut there's a way to anchor his soul. Is Ms. Calendar dead here?"

Amy nodded. "She died a while ago. Nearly broke Giles' heart."

"Did ours too. Angelus killed her."

Amy's eyes widened. "And he's still around—as Angel?"

"Yeah. I think everyone, except Xander, has forgiven him for that. What kind of hypocrites would we be if we couldn't?"

The door suddenly flew open, causing both Amy and Willow to jump. In walked Spike, his eyes landing on Willow as a low growl slipped out. "Bloody hell, Red! I've been waiting for ten minutes out there! The bloody slayer is going to dust me while you two are in here are gossiping like a couple of cackling hens!"

Willow's eyes widened as she began to scurry around the bathroom, picking up her things. She looked up to see Amy staring at Spike in pure amazement.

"I can feel the difference, Will," she said before turning to Willow. "I'll do everything I can to convince them. I promise, both of you."

"Thank you." Willow watched her slip out behind Spike and out of the bathroom. Once her things were packed away, she looked up gave Spike a chagrined smile. "Sorry—I was lobbying for our cause. Yeah, lobbying," she said, as she swung her backpack over her shoulder. She handed the vampire her duffel bag.

He rolled his eyes as he took the bag and her arm, nearly dragging her out of the bathroom. He stopped once they were out of hearing distance from the library. "Lobbying? What a joke, pet. You were gossiping. I know, I heard most of it." He stared down at her, frowning. "I'm still a demon, Red. And always will be. Do you understand that?"

Willow met his hard gaze with one of her own. "Yes, I do. So what does that say about me?"

His eyebrows creased in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

She tipped her head to the side as she lifted her hand, barely noticing that it was trembling, and she traced his scar. He turned his face into her touch, pressing his cool lips against her palm, causing her to smile in response. Sighing softly, she stood up on tiptoes and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

Without saying a word, she turned and began walking towards the doors, with Spike on her heels.
 

"So, did the glamour spells work?" she asked him once they were about a block away from the school.

He shook his head and stared down at her, obviously confused. "What was that, pet?"

"The glamour spells, did they work? Do I look like a vampire to you?"

He stopped, pulling back as he dropped her hand, and suddenly grinned. "Red, I recognize that outfit! You were wearing something like this that Halloween when everyone turned into their costumes. That was just neat." He began circling her much like he did the night before until he stopped once again, facing her—this time, their bodies nearly touching. "You were pale that night, too."

She shrugged, ignoring her racing her heart at his proximity. "I was a ghost. Ghosts are supposed to be pale."

He lifted his hand and brushed her hair off her face. "I noticed you the first time that night. Before, you were just the one of the slayer's chums. But that night—you were fire." His hand slipped down and cupped her chin, angling it upwards. "And then you just disappeared again and I didn't see that fire until the night I kidnapped you—standing up to me all the while you were so scared your knees were shaking." He stepped in closer, his head moving downwards until their lips were nearly touching. "So, is the fire back, Red?"

Just as she opened her mouth to respond, he kissed her. His tongue sweeping across her lips and into the contour of her mouth as she pushed herself closer into his embrace. His coolness ignited her skin and a part of her wanted nothing but to fall into his arms right there and make love to him. She heard the duffel bag drop onto the ground as his hands slipped behind her under her buttocks and lifted her up.

Finally, needing to breathe, she broke this kiss and stared at the golden hue of his eyes and the final bit of her resistance broke. Smiling back at him, she leaned in to kiss him once more, when she felt him stiffen.

"Bloody hell, love," he said, slowly letting her down. "We're about to have company." He picked up the duffel bag and took her hand. "Can you act like her, if you need to?"

She nodded, silently wishing there was a glamour spell to cover the racing of her heart. "I did it at home—"

"There you two are! Spikey, I've been looking all over for you," Vampire Willow said as she stepped out from the shadows. Her eyes instantly landed on Willow and her whole face lit up. "It fits you, Fluffy. Not quite me, but not Fluffy anymore."

Willow gave her other self a small smile. "Thanks—I think. So, do I look enough like you to keep the minions away?"

She licked her lips as her eyes widened, flashing gold. "Your arousal smells like me, too. That should keep them away—"

Willow felt her whole body flush in embarrassment as she stared at the ground, horrified.

Spike pulled her into his arms and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "None of that, love. It's actually a good thing, since Willow over there seems to live in a constant state of arousal."

The redhead vampire's whole body shook with laughter. "That's what I like about you, Spikey. You're funny. My Spike is angry, hard and lean and doesn't make jokes like you. You remind me of my Xander," she paused, her toe tracing the dirt.

Willow saw the flash of pain that crossed her other self's face and found her heart going out to her. A life without Xander would definitely break her and those two were lovers as well. Willow could only imagine the pain the vampiress was feeling. She slipped out of Spike's embrace and went up to her, touching her doppelganger on the arm. "Don't worry. I think your Spike's sense of humor just took a vacation. Once the anger disappears, it'll come back."

The vampiress head snapped up, demon face on as she gave Willow a small growl. "I forgot how compassionate I used to be. It's annoying and unnerving."

"Willow—leave her alone."

She growled once more as Willow backed away from her, back into Spike's arms. Her other self's face morphed back into its human form as she shrugged. "I know. I wouldn't hurt her. She's me." She looked back up to Spike, her face suddenly more serious than Willow had ever seen before. "Promise me something, Spikey?"

"What?"

"That you don't let her go back to being Fluffy." She stepped up to them, facing Willow, as she lifted her hand and touched her face. "I love my life—the blood, the hunt, death, chaos—it suits me. But, when I was human—I used to dream those stupid human dreams, about a time when I could dress like this," she said as she fingered the sleeve of Willow's shirt, "and be wild, free and follow my heart. It would be nice to know that somewhere, somehow, I got there on my own." Her head lifted and when their eyes met—for just an instant, Willow felt as if she was staring into a mirror—almost as if she were staring into her own soul.

Willow bit her bottom lip nervously, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and too embarrassed to wonder why, when her other self leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. "Take care of her, Spikey."

Vampire Willow then turned around and started walking the opposite direction, leaving both Willow and Spike staring after her, both stunned.

"She sure as hell knows how to make an exit," Spike muttered as he leaned over and picked up Willow's duffel bag. "Come on, love, let's go home," he said as began walking, tugging on Willow's hand.

Willow shot one last look at the retreating back of her other self as she picked up her backpack and shook her head; her mind desperately trying to wrap itself around what she had just discovered.

Vampires didn't lose their souls.

Somehow that changed everything.

He was both drawn and repelled at the sight before him.

What had happened to him—his other self—to make him such a whipped Nancyboy around mortals? Granted, it wasn't just any mortal; it was a mortal Willow—but still, it just didn't sit right with him.

He had been following the other Spike since the vampire had left his lair right after sunset. He saw how Spike let that blond witch leave the bathroom at the high school. He watched as they left the school, hand in hand, as if they were two mortal lovers on a night stroll. He saw them kiss, both of their passions igniting; smelt the human Willow's scent as drifted through the night's air—teasing him, causing him to harden in response.

He felt his vixen's presence before he saw her step out into the street. He was sure she felt him as well—which made her comment about his lack of humor sting all the more.

He'd punish her for that.

But what intrigued him the most about the whole encounter, was the human Willow. She seemed to accept her Spike's demon as a matter of course. He didn't smell any fear in her—just arousal as she stared into his counterparts yellow eyes.

How could that be?

He also wondered how is his counterpart had survived as long as he did in his world. Didn't that Spike sense him following him? If it'd been him in his other shoes, he would've already attacked—anything to keep Willow safe.

It was a mess.

Too many unanswered questions—provoking him to think way too hard when he'd much rather be soaking in the blood of young nubile teenagers with Willow—his Willow.

But it wasn't his night.

It was Angelus'—the prick.

Gods, he hated his sire.

Growling softly, he continued to follow the pair until they reached this Spike's lair. Once they slipped inside, Spike stepped out into the open, lit a cigarette and found himself once again wishing for his Drusilla.

Life was so much simpler back then.

"Love, stay here," Spike said as he pushed her into their room. "I've got some things to take care of."

Willow dropped the backpack down and turned around. "Where are you going?"

He lit a cigarette and stared up at the stairs. "We were being followed."

Willow's pale faces whitened even more. "Angelus?"

He shook his head. "Nah, Red. It was me. He hasn't done anything—I think he's just curious, but I do believe it's time for him to know that I'm not some whipped puppy that can be pushed around." He smirked down at Willow. "I know that he thinks that. Just like Dru did. Demons can be so shortsighted sometimes. All they see is their side—and it's right. And everyone else is weak if they aren't on the same side. I was just the same bloody way until the wheelchair."

"Why did that change you? I—I mean, this Spike lost Dru—shouldn't that have changed him?"

Taking another hit off his cigarette; the blond vampire shook his head. "Nah, love, remember last December? I was angry and depressed. This Spike is just angry." He closed his eyes, his face drawn in thought. "I think it was because I was so helpless and it gave me a lot of time to think. I knew I was in a spot of trouble when I began to root for the Slayer every time she fought Angelus," he chuckled softly, his eyes opening. "It was just because, she could and I couldn't. But somehow, it made me see past my demon." He shrugged. "And like they say, once you finally can see, you can't chose not too anymore." He flicked his cigarette away and grabbed the doorknob. "Lock this after me and don't let anyone in—except me."

She went over to the door and caught it before Spike could close it. Standing on her tiptoes, she gave him a quick kiss on his lips. "Stay safe," she whispered.

He gave her cocky smile and suddenly swooped down and smashed his mouth against hers—his tongue pushing past her lips searching for hers. Willow felt her whole body once again prickle with life as a small moan slipped out—an obvious testament to her want.

As quickly as the kiss started, it ended. Grinning, he lifted a strand of her hair to his nose and closed his eyes, inhaling its scent. When they opened again, he pecked her quickly on the mouth and pulled back. "Lock it, Red," he ordered and turned to run up the stair with preternatural speed.

Willow stood there until she saw the other door open at the top of the stairs. Once the door shut behind him, she closed and locked the one that she was holding, falling back against its hardness as her knees finally refused to hold her up.

As she slid down the door, her breath coming out in small and quick pants, she wondered if she would ever be able to look at Oz again with the same feelings as she had less than 24 hours before.

Because from where she stood, she didn't think it was possible.

She was in deep trouble.

"I know you're here—let me see you," Spike said as he leaned against the brick wall, his eyes scanning his surroundings, waiting for his other self.

And then there he was. Bloody git was hiding behind a trash dumpster. Spike couldn't help but chuckle at that, giving himself a mental check mark in his own favor . "So, what the hell do you want, mate? Not your night, thought about grabbing my Willow?"

The other Spike's face rippled as he strolled casually to Spike. "Ouch," he said, in fake drama, hitting his chest. "That hurt."

Spike gave himself a knowing smirk as he lit a cigarette. "Just so you know, I've known you were there all night."

The other frowned as he stuck his hands in the pocket of his duster. "Why in the bloody hell didn't you do something?"

Spike shrugged. "Why bother? You were just curious, right mate?"

The other Spike pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and shook one out. "Yeah, I was. I wanted to understand how I could turn out to be such a bloody whipped sod," he said right before sticking the cigarette into his mouth.

"A point for you, mate." Spike shrugged as his studied the alley. "Do you like here?"

His doppelganger shrugged. "What's not to like? Lives for the taking. There's a bloody smorgasbord at the Bronze. A vampire's wet dream, ya know?"

Spike nodded knowingly. "Miss the hunt?"

He looked up and met Spike's eyes. "A little."

"What's it like everywhere else? Has the world changed because of the Hellmouth being opened?"

"What do you think?"

Spike pushed himself off the wall and began pacing in front of his other self. "It's not my bloody world, so it's not for me to say," he paused, flicking his cigarette aside. "But if it were my world, I'd hate it."

"Willow said that your world has two slayers. Is that true?"

Spike nodded. "Dru bagged one herself. The other one—the one that no one can seem to kill—is still alive and kicking though. Bloody thorn in my side, she is."

"Is she the same one that's here—in my Sunnydale?"

Spike nodded. "She's a lot different in my world. Got friends and family—that helps her. Willow—my Willow—is her best friend. Not in the bloody handbook, I'll tell you. But it makes her powerful—stronger than any slayer I've ever faced.

"And no one likes it. Not the bleeding Watcher's Council or the various demons and vampires that go up against her. But, she keeps order. Keeps the Hellmouth closed. Managed to send Angelus to Hell, much to my everlasting satisfaction. Top it off, he had soul."

"He got re-souled?"

Spike looked up to see a familiar light flicker in his other self's eyes. Willow—this world's Willow—would stake him if she found out what he was doing. But he couldn't help himself. If he and Willow were going to be stuck here, he wanted to bring her across—and he promised he wouldn't do so unless he could curse her. That, and if this was going to be his home, he had to make sure the world was going to remain the same. The bloody git, his sire, was going to find Acathla. It was only a matter of time and then this world, like his, would be on the verge of being sucked up into the Demon Dimension. "I know she's dead, but her things have got to be somewhere. There was a gypsy woman that was shagging the Watcher—Janna Calendar? She's the one that translated the spell on our side. Angelus killed her, but not before she managed to save a copy of it on disk. Look for the disk."

Spike watched the other vampire frown. "Why are you telling me this?"

Spike just shrugged. "What is that mortals say? Oh yeah, just food for thought, mate. That's all."

Spike turned around and headed for the door. As he opened it, he heard his other self call out.

"Why do you even bloody care about them? Mortals?"

"They taste good?" Spike chuckled softly as he faced his other self. "I don't particularly care for mortals per say. But a few of them have their uses. And even a fewer of them, much to my dismay, I found myself liking. They're just like demons—some of them you can't stand—some of them you could care less about—and others somehow managed to become more than just a meal to you. Maybe you'll figure that out—I just hope it doesn't happen from a bloody wheelchair like it did with me."

He turned around and slipped through the door, inwardly hoping that he managed to give his other self something to think about other than getting into Willow's knickers.

Spike could only hope.

Once Willow managed to pick herself off the floor, she sighed softly to herself, berating her foolishness.

For all she knew, Spike and her would be stuck here for the rest of her life, so what did it matter if she carpe diem-ed the blond vampire. She couldn't be expected to stay loyal to Oz for the rest of her virgin life, now could she?

"That's stupid," she snapped to herself, nearly flinching at the harshness in her own voice. "You've been here—what, a day? And you're already thinking about cheating on Oz? What's wrong with this picture?" she asked herself as she kicked off her shoes.

She knew what was wrong with this picture.

Oz obviously wasn't fulfilling something inside of her if she had to go search for it in someone else. First Xander and now Spike. What did the vampire and her best friend have in common with her?

Passion.

Toe curling, life changing passion.

Groaning softly she began unpacking the two bags, oddly pleased to find that Spike left a drawer empty for her. It was like an unspoken admission that she meant something to him.

Shaking her head at her foolishness, she pulled out the leather book she'd found in the at the luggage place.

Ever the researcher, she decided to record her adventures here—whether she made it home or not, it should be an interesting read. After placing the book on top of the nightstand, she gathered the toiletries and took them to the bathroom, putting them away.

Once that task was completed, she decided to check out the kitchenette and see if Spike had thought enough to have some human food waiting for her. Although the refrigerator part only held a quart of milk and a six pack of coke, the freezer was stuffed with a wide array of frozen dinners—microwaveable.

"Bless you, Spike," Willow murmured as she took out a Stouffer's meatloaf dinner and set about to prepare it. Her eyes landed on the coffee maker and realized that she missed her caffeine fix that day. While her dinner was being cooked, she prepared the coffee, ready for her to turn it on once the microwave was finished.

That done, she wandered into the living room and turned on the television.

Once again, she found herself staring at some black and white B movie and got up to turn the station—only to find out there were none others.

Suddenly, it hit her.

The Hellmouth had opened. She saw what it did to Sunnydale, but what about the rest of the world? Did that mean all the television stations were run by demons that didn't care about mortal news? Or was this because they were stuck 25 feet underground and the only station the TV could get would be this one.

Willow sighed softly; hoping the latter was true. The world couldn't have changed that much or why would there still be some sort demon hunters—hiding out in plain sight? If the world were run by demons, wouldn't Giles and Buffy have gone underground?

The microwave beeped, pulling her out of her thoughts. She shut off the television and headed for the kitchen to eat.

So, she found the food, Spike thought to himself as he opened the door and walked inside. As he shrugged off his coat, he noticed that the she had unpacked and wondered if she saw the drawer he left empty for her. Smiling to himself he walked over to the table and sat across from her.

Her head lifted and smiled at him. "So, how did it go?"

He shrugged. "Alright, I guess. I bloody forgot how annoying I was," he said, as he leaned back in his chair.

She chuckled softly. "That's exactly what she said about me." She looked up and their eyes met. "I don't think its natural for us to meet ourselves."

"It's fucking unnerving. He's all cocky, thinking I'm some pansy-ass when he's more whipped than I'll ever be."

After chewing the last of her meal, she frowned at him. "Why do you say that?"

"You know how I told you that she's got both of them—Angelus and Spike—wrapped around her little finger?"

She nodded as she sipped her coffee.

"Well, what she did was tell Spike it was either her way or no way."

Willow found herself smiling. "And you told her to tell him that, didn't you?"

"Damn right I did. And I knew it would work, too. Bloody hell, I wanted to go home and it was the easiest way. He shared Dru with Angelus for over forty years—what makes this any different?"

"But you changed in those years—when Angel had his soul."

He nodded. "That's why he moved out of the Master's lair—so he wouldn't bloody have to see it. And Angelus, he's a slut. He'd be bored if Willow was there every day. This way she keeps Peaches interested and Spike old boy at least somewhat happy."

"It's not going to last."

"No, its not." He grinned, lighting a cigarette.

"Spike, what else are you planning?"

He blew out a cloud of smoke and chuckled softly. "Let's just say, I'm paving the way for this Spike to see the light—so to speak." He watched Willow's face as she pondered what he said, her eyes lighting up when she realized what he meant.

"You want him to become like you, don't you?"

He reached over and grabbed her hand, holding it tightly. "Love, if we can't leave, I want a world to live in, don't you? Acathla hasn't been found—The Master is trying monthly to end the world and the bloody mayor's getting ready to ascend. It seems to me, that we have our work cut out for us."

"And if we go back?"

"Then at least the seeds have been sown and let them work out." He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray and caressing her hand. "I told him about the curse and who had it in our world." He watched her face, wondering if she understood what he was saying—what he wanted.

She nodded. "I did the same. I told Amy about it. She could cast it, too."

He suddenly stood up, feeling physically and emotionally antsy, and tugged on Willow's hand. Once they were both standing up, he led them to the living room and turned the stereo on, hitting the play button on the CD player. Sounds of the Moody Blues filled the room—fitting his melancholy mood.

"Dance with me?" He asked the diminutive redhead in his arms.

Her lips curled as she nodded. "My pleasure."

As the dark-haired vampire stood in the middle of Willow's bedroom, his mind drifted to the first time had seen her.

Almost a month prior to Buffy arriving in Sunnydale, Angel hid in the shadows in and around of Sunnydale, getting a feel of the town, its occupants and the Hellmouth itself.

It was during that time, he first laid eyes on the gentle soul of Willow Rosenberg.

He had stopped off at the Bronze, his eyes scanning the club, when he saw her. His demon squirmed in his body, drawn to her innocence and goodness that seemed to radiate from her soul.

Unaware, he found himself nearly in front of her before Angel turned and ran out of the club, terrified that Angelus would break through his soul's control.

That was the first time in nearly 50 years he had felt his control slip that far.

Now, nearly three years later, as he immersed himself in her essence, he could feel Angelus squirm once again.

Luckily for him, he was used to the battle—having fought it numerous times in the past couple of years and ruthlessly clamped down on the demon—refusing its call.

Slowly, he extracted each scent—identified it and filed it away in his mind until he reached hers…

His eyes snapped open as he heard himself growl softly.

She called to him—more so than the human Willow—called to his demon.

She had since he had he first laid eyes on her at the Bronze just a few months before.

She called him Puppy.

He turned and met Oz's knowing eyes and sighed.

"Willow—the other Willow—did this, Giles," Angel whispered.

The watcher nodded, taking off his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. "Oz?"

"Angel's right. It's her."

"I feared as much myself. The magic tasted like her, but I don't have the extra-senses that you two do." He put his glasses on and turned to Angel. "But why would she do this?"

Angel shrugged. "I haven't heard anything. I can ask around and see if anyone else has disappeared like Willow…"

The wolf stood there, hands on his hips and shook his head. "I don't know if either of you knew this, but she and Willow talked—for a while."

Giles frowned. "And?"

Oz just shrugged. "Maybe Will wasn't the only that felt some sort of kinship to her other self."

Angel shook his head, that cold pit of fear growing by the minute. "You're not saying that Will actually liked her, are you?"

Oz leaned against Willow's desk and nodded. "Yeah, she did. Why do you think that she asked Buffy not to stake her?"

"But she's a demon!"

"Angel." Oz sighed, rubbing his face. "Man, sometimes I think you and Xander are cut from the same cloth. Will saw beyond the demon—she saw herself."

Angel began pacing the length of the room. "I know that. It's just not healthy to look at vampires as anything other than the demons that inhabit them. It could kill you."

Giles cleared his throat and picked up his discarded coat from a chair. "There's nothing else we can do here. I need to consult my books and see if I can find the spell that the other Willow used. Oz, can you take care of Amy? And Angel, will check your sources and see if you can find out anything else? We'll meet back at the library."

"No problem, Giles."

"I'll get right on it."

Angel watched Oz pick up the cage and found himself wondering if Sunnydale's only witch-by-birth was going to live the rest of her life out in a gerbil cage.

Only on the Hellmouth.

At first his hands began to drift.

From the comfortable position around her waist, to up her back, his fingernails lightly scratching her bare skin, sending shivers down her spine.

Then one hand dropped below her waist down over her behind and slipped underneath the hem of her skirt.

Willow felt her nipples harden as she hugged him even tighter to her.

Spike's other hand stopped his trek upwards at her neck and began playing with her hair at the nape of her neck.

A small whimper slipped out of her mouth.

He gently tugged on her hair, angling her head upwards as his other hand slipped in between her thighs.

When their eyes met, she saw that his blue eyes had darkened—inflamed with passion—and he slowly lowered his head to kiss her.

She felt a finger brush against her wet crotch and her legs widened even more.

As their tongues met—ice and fire—Willow heard herself moan—her body aching for his touch as she felt his other hand drop down to her bottom and lift her up, pushing her body so her crotch smashed against his covered hard-on.

He broke the kiss, giving her a chance to catch her breath as his mouth moved to her neck, raining kisses down her jaw line up her neck to her ear.

His cool tongue slipped into her orifice and suddenly his voice, low and sensual echoed through out her.

"I want to make love to you, Red—hear you scream—" He stopped and nipped at her earlobe. "Do you want that, Willow?"

She nodded, murmuring yes so quietly she wondered if had he heard her at all. Obviously he did, for soon they were moving across the room and then Willow felt herself fall, landing on the bed, bereft of Spike.

She opened her eyes to see him standing there, kicking off his boots. He then jumped onto the bed, causing Willow to bounce in place.

She giggled softly as she saw him smirking at her as he crawled up to her. Lying on top of her, nestled in between her spread legs, he pushed her hair off her face, and kissed her forehead.

She sighed softly, loving the feel of his cool lips on her face, as they moved downwards to her mouth. She brought her hands down and pushed on his chest, her shaky fingers working the buttons on his ever-present red shirt.

Once unbuttoned, she tugged on his black tee shirt impatiently, causing him to chuckle in response. "All right, Red, " he murmured against her lips before pulling back enough to tug the shirt off.

Once bare-chested, Willow ran her fingernails down his skin, stopping at his nipples. Groaning, his hands attacked her shirt and within a minute, it had joined his on the floor.

"Finally," she mumbled softly, her body shivering in response to her nipples rubbing his cool chest.

"Impatient, aren't we?"

She glanced up at him, trying to frown as a giggle slipped from her lips. "Yeah, I guess I am," she whispered, all of the sudden feeling incredibly insecure. Her eyes dropped as her fingers caressed his back.

"Hey, none of that, love," he told her, lifting her chin—forcing her to look at him. "You're beautiful, Red—just like I knew you would be. Now," he said as his hands dropped to her waist and moved around her body to the zipper. Lifting her up, he quickly removed her skirt and panties, leaving her naked. "Now, I can show you how beautiful I think you are," he said he scooted down the bed, stopping at the vee in her legs.

Her body blushed in response.

She watched him, mesmerized as his human face melted away as his head dipped down in between her legs. A part of her wanted to crawl away in embarrassment, while a larger part of herself wanted to fling her legs even wider for him, so she did nothing but let herself float away as his tongue, fangs and mouth brought her exquisite pleasure.

All too soon, she felt her stomach clench and her mind splinter into a thousand pieces, as her body experienced her first orgasm brought on by someone other than herself.

And she discovered something else about herself: she was a screamer.

Grinning, his yellow eyes seemingly twinkling with delight, he crawled up her body and positioned himself at her entrance.

She grabbed his head and brought his lips down to hers, tasting herself on him, and ran her tongue alongside his fangs—causing him to growl in response.

I did that, Willow thought to herself as her hand dropped and hesitantly reached out to touch his cock.

It was cool, hard and silky—making her think of how men were all those things in comparison to the round, gentle softness of women. She looked up in time to see Spike's eyes shut as his fangs slipped into his lips, drawing blood.

Entranced, she leaned up and kissed him again—whirling the metallic sweetness mixed in with her juices around her tongue.

His eyes snapped open and met hers as he growled again.

"Love, I'm going to try to take this slow, but it's going to hurt—"

She lifted a hand up and pressed her fingers against his bloody lips. "It's okay. I understand."

As he slowly slid inside her, a part of her mind screamed at his intrusion, wanting to stop it and keep her virginity, but Willow ignored it and forced herself to relax.

She wanted this.

And if she were really honest with herself had since that night he kidnapped her and Xander, and buried his head in her hair.

She felt him hit the tattered remains of her hymen, having broke it years before when she had been riding Jesse's ten-speed, and suddenly he was completely inside her.

She looked up at him through her tears and gave him a small smile as she tightened her muscles.

His eyes nearly rolled back as he groaned softly.

After nearly a minute, she began to wiggle, signaling to him that she was ready and Spike complied, as he began to make love to her.

As the minutes flew by, Willow felt her body begin to respond and before she realized it, she had wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her pelvis, forcing him to hit her clit with each descending motion.

Her second orgasm came upon her so suddenly; it was all she could do to call out his name as she spiraled upwards. Seconds later, she felt the sharp prick of his fangs as they sunk into her neck, triggering yet another climax as she milked his cold seed from his body.

His body stilled as he slowly extracted his fangs from her body and he grinned down at her. "See what you do to me?" he asked her as he bent down and began to lap her wound.

Her heart still pounding erratically, all she could do was wrap her arms around him and think to herself, No, Spike, see what you do to me.

Angelus growled as he extended his senses around him.

She had been there.

He could smell her.

And that asinine double of his errant childe, Spike.

He also sensed his childe as well as his Willow.

"A fucking party and no one invited me," he muttered softly as he turned around, trying to figure out which way the otherworlders went.

"Alright, one Willow went this way," he said to himself, looking up the street that led to the high school. "And two Spikes and a Willow went this way," he stopped, a smile spread across his lips. "Gotcha boy!"

He suddenly broke into a run, following the scent of the two vampires and one human—feeling his blood surge in lust.

A human Willow.

The possibilities were endless.

He remembered the first time he had seen her—when she was still human. He'd been soulboy, checking out the Bronze, when his eyes just happened to catch a flash of red in the midst blond and brunettes. As his soul-driven body waded through the crowd, closing in on her, suddenly for the first time in decades, he felt his soul hold on him falter.

Never one to pass up such an opportunity, he raged against his prison, desperate to break free.

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough.

He saw her a few times after that, but unfortunately his soul had been prepared and he never did get as close to breaking free as he had that first time.

But Soul-boy stayed close to Willow, almost as if he were trying to tempt fate and his demon, and because of that, the vampire had been caught during the hoopla of the Harvest…along with Willow.

As he watched through his soul's eyes as the Master drained and then brought across the object of his obsession, he rejoiced as his soul cried.

The year that followed was a painful one—even for him. As a vampire, Willow was cruel, heartless and playful—a painful combination for his 240 plus year old body. But even with each douse of Holy Water and every scar caused by her cross, there had been a part of him that drawn to her evil—aroused by it. She filled him with such rage and ecstasy; it was no wonder that he broke free from his prison after one intimate encounter with the Slayer—his soul's one true love.

Once free, the first thing he did was claim Willow, pushing that boy out that she had been with out into the streets.

Willow was Angelus' equal—in so many ways—it thrilled him to no end and for the first time in his immortal life, he could see himself with a lifelong mate.

It should've been the best time of his life.

And would've been, if Spike hadn't returned.

Now, despite her best efforts to hide the fact, he knew he was sharing Willow with his childe—just as he shared Drusilla with him as well.

But not for long.

One way or another, he was going to have Willow—and sharing would not be allowed.

"Spike?"

"Umm, Red?"

Willow lifted her head and watched him take another drag off his cigarette and started giggling softly.

"What?"

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head, as she nodded to him and the cigarette. "A perfect picture of post-coital satisfaction," she said as she watched him put the cigarette out.

"Funny. Real funny. Now, what was it that you wanted?"

She turned over onto her stomach and placed her head onto his chest. "If we get out of here and go—go home, what's going to happen? Be—between us?"

At first he didn't respond, making Willow wish she hadn't asked him in the first place. What did she expect? She was a mortal—friends with the Slayer—his mortal enemy. How could things be any different than they were prior to her double's actions that brought both her and Spike to this world?

Slayers (and she assumed that meant Slayer's friends as well) and vampires didn't mesh. It was probably in that handbook that Giles never gave Buffy.

But then, what did she want?

This, that growing part of her yelled out as she felt his arms slipped down to her waist, tugging her over on top of him. She still hadn't looked up, afraid of what she would see there—in those dark blue eyes of his.

"Pet, I thought that was up to you," he said, his voice quiet and even. "You're the one with the wolf. Me? I haven't been with Dru in over six months."

She jerked her head up, as her eyes widened. "Up to me?" Goddess, did I just squeak?

She could see the amusement in his eyes. "That's right, Red. Up to you."

She pursed her lips; turning over what he said in her mind. What do I want, she asked herself the second time in as many minutes. She dropped her head on his chest, right where his heart would've beat if it could and thought about everything that had happened to her since Homecoming.

Since the first time Xander and her kissed.

That's when her world had begun to spin out of control.

Although she regretted the pain that she caused everyone, she couldn't regret what happened—no matter how hard she tried.

She needed to know—to put her feelings for him to rest.

And that's exactly what it did. For far too long, Xander ignored her—only willing to look at her as his best friend. Their fling not only helped to booster her self-esteem, but it also made her realize that Xander was not what she wanted.

And now this. Just hours before, she stood in the same room with the other Oz and none of those warm, fuzzy feelings came over that she always associated with Oz. If she were really in love with him, would that have mattered? Three years couldn't intrinsically change who Oz was—this Oz was her Oz—without the security of a closed Hellmouth and Willow.

But as she stood in the library, defending her actions and Spike, she should've realized then, that Oz wasn't what she wanted anymore either.

"Oh Goddess, what did I do to him, Spike?" She brought up her head and met his eyes. "I spent weeks after the factory incident, trying to make it up to Oz for the pain I caused him. I was so sure he was the one that I wanted."

"Red, what happened after I left you and the boy?"

She started running her finger across his chest, suddenly loving the way his cool skin moved with just the tiniest of pressure.

"Willow—"

Rolling her eyes, she sighed and then told him—everything. From the years she spent loving her best friend from afar to the fiery kiss right before Homecoming. How, eventually those actions led to Cordelia falling through the stairs onto a rusty spike sticking out in the sub-basement of the vampire's factory.

"Oz is such a neat person and he loves me with all his heart. He adores me, Spike. All that kept running through my mind when I saw the look on his face was that I would be alone again. Because Xander wasn't enough and hadn't ever been. Even when Jesse was alive—they together weren't enough." She shook her head at herself, chuckling softly. "It's funny—I spent most of my life being invisible except to two emotionally challenged boys and when I finally manage to get friends and feel loved, it's not enough. But with Oz, it almost was." She looked up at Spike, and sighed. "But even after we finally got back together, I was thinking of you," she said quietly.

He chuckled softly; running his fingers through her mussed her. "So was I, love. So was I."

Nodding at his admission, she laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "I just don't understand how I could've messed this up so badly. We should've just remained friends until I could figure out what I wanted. And now, things are totally screwed up."

She heard him light another cigarette and felt his cool fingertips trace the skin on her back. "Why don't you go and talk to this Oz tomorrow, pet?"

She opened her eyes and met his, smiling.

"I think I will," she whispered as she reached for the burning cigarette and plucked it out of Spike's fingers.

"Hey! I was smoking that!"

Giggling softly, she leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. "I thought you might want to use that mouth for much more enjoyable things…" she trailed off, tracing his lips with her finger.

His eyes darkened as his hold on her tightened. "I always knew you were the smart one, love," he whispered just before their lips met.

Willow's stomach fluttered as he deepened the kiss. Her last coherent thought before Spike began showing her all the wonderful things his mouth could do, was: this was what I was missing.

"I think we should do it," Amy said softly, her eyes never leaving Giles' face. "And quickly—like tomorrow night—before the Master finds her and turns her like he did with our Willow."

Amy heard Buffy scowl beside her and turned to face the slayer. "What is it about her that you hate so much?"

"Other than she's a carbon copy of the blood-sucking demon that took my boyfriend away from me?"

"Buffy—"

"Giles, don't!"

"Then I will," Oz said quietly. "Angelus was never yours. Only Angel. And Angel is gone." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Just as our Willow isn't the same Willow that was here yesterday. She has a soul and a life—"

"Yeah, with another blood-sucking demon!"

"Buffy, you know that's not true," Amy whispered, interrupting her. "She's with the other Oz. In her world, you're her best friend. She's fought by your side for the last three years, re-souled Angel—nearly died as many times as any of us. Don't you owe it to yourself—your other self—to send her back?"

"What about Spike?"

Amy shrugged and looked across the table at Oz, silently asking him for his support. Out of all of them, he had the most reason to hate the peroxide-haired vampire; Spike had captured Oz while in wolf form and tortured the teen for two days until Oz managed to escape. If he fought her on this, Buffy wouldn't back down. And from the undercurrents Amy picked up between the two visitors, she had a feeling Willow wouldn't leave her Spike here alone.

Oz met Buffy's eyes and shook his head.

"What about him? In her world, he's not as evil. Besides, don't you think Willow's right? That he should be Angel and your other self's problem? What happens if we kill him here and he's needed for something greater over there? Is it our right to take a chance away from another world just because we're pissed?"

Buffy eyes shut, her face reflecting a pain that ran much deeper than the scar that crossed her face. "I know you're right, Amy. In my head. But my heart is screaming for vengeance. Against them all." She took a deep breath and looked up, meeting Giles' eyes. "Okay—you can do it."

Amy heard herself let out a sigh of relief and fell back into her chair. Issuing a small prayer to the Goddess in thanks, all Amy could do is be grateful to the powers that be that the slayer had a good head on her shoulders despite her broken and shattered psyche—or the world would be in a lot more trouble that it already was.

"Spike's missing," Angel said as he stepped out of the stacks, staying in the shadows of the library.

Giles' head snapped up from the book he was reading and studied the vampire. It was pretty obvious that he hadn't slept much the night before, but then the same could be said for the rest of them. Dividing their time up in between the Ascension and Willow's disappearance had taken a toll on the lot of them.

Everyone, including Cordelia, had shown up at the library that morning before ten and thrown themselves into the research.

Both Oz and Xander looked as tired as Giles felt. Xander even passed on making the noontime food run, leaving it in the capable, if not begrudgingly hands of his former girlfriend.

Buffy went with her, claiming she wanted her Big Mac in one piece—which would've been doubtful if no one went with the cheerleader to hold the food while she drove.

Giles understood. He'd been in the same car as Cordelia when she was behind the wheel. It was almost as bad as his slayer. Shaking his head, he stood up just as he heard Xander scowl under his breath.

"And that's important—why?" the young man asked, looking up from the spell book Giles' had given him to read.

The watcher rubbed his tired face and sighed softly. He was not in the mood to listen to them bicker this early in the day. Giles approached Angel. "I assume you're telling us this because of the way he disappeared, correct?"

Dropping his hands onto his hips, the vampire nodded. "According to Willie," the vampire paused, a look of amazement crossing his face, obviously in awe of the bar owner's ability to garner and broker information. "Spike's been spending the last three months in some town in Mexico—without Drusilla—getting drunk. A little over a week ago, he disappeared from his favorite barstool in flashy show of lights. He hasn't been seen since.

"I spent the rest of the night calling around, trying to get a confirmation. The bar owner called me back about an hour ago and confirmed the story."

Giles nodded as his eyes fell on his replacement that had just came down the steps from the stacks. "Now, why would the vampire Willow take Spike first, wait a week and then take Willow? That just doesn't make sense," Wesley asked, as he slipped off his glasses and began to clean them.

"Hey! We're talking about Skanky Willow. She didn't seem to have all her marbles to start with," Xander interjected.

Oz shook his head. "It was an act. Willow said so—"

Xander whipped around his seat to stare at Oz. "Willow talked to her? Why?"

The wolf shrugged. "Curious mostly. She said it was like looking into a funhouse mirror."

"Well that's all well and good," Giles said, interrupting the teens. "But my question is why both of them? What does Spike and Willow have in common?"

"Yeah," Xander asked. "Spike didn't even know Willow until he kidnapped us—not really."

Giles felt the vampire standing next to him stiffen slightly. He turned to face him and caught a flash of guilt cross his face. Good Lord, Giles thought to himself. When will last spring stop coming back to haunt us?

"That's not entirely true. When I lost my soul, I made sure that both Dru and Spike knew everything I knew about all of you—"

Giles nearly jumped at the sound of Xander's chair being forced back. "Oh that's just great! You just keep surprising us, Deadboy. Any other tidbits you—"

"Xander! Enough!" Giles inwardly groaned at pin prickles of another headache forming. "What's done is done." He turned and looked at Angel. "Has he ever mentioned any interest in her?"

Angel shook his head. "And when he was here this past winter, he didn't seem too attached to either Xander or Willow. They were just a means to an end."

"To have Willow perform the love spell."

Angel nodded.

"Which," Wesley said, picking up where Giles left off, "he decided against, correct?"

"Correct. He decided to win her back the demon way. He was going to torture her until she loved him again," Angel said, chuckling softly.

"Does that actually work?" Xander asked. "I mean, are vampire women that much different from human women?"

Oz shrugged. "I don't know. I've heard some weird things. Just go on the Internet for a few hours—"

Giles cleared his throat, silently wishing for his aspirin that was in his office. The pin prickles had grown exponentially to a raw, throbbing pain behind his eyes. "Well, obviously that didn't work, did it? Or he would've been with Drusilla and not in Mexico—"

"Why does this have to have anything to do with Spike and Willow together?" Oz asked as he stood up and joined the rest of them.

"What do you mean exactly?" Wesley asked, crossing his arms on his chest.

Oz frowned. "It was a week apart from each abduction. I tend to think she wanted Spike for whatever reason and once she was through with him, then she abducted Will."

Giles nodded, seeing the wolf's logic. "You might have something there—"

"Yeah!" Xander interrupted as he began pacing in front of them. "I mean Skanky Willow knew Wills was the one that brought her here and—"

"And she needed Willow to bring Spike back," Angel said, finishing Xander's thought. "That actually makes sense. Convoluted maybe. But from what I gathered from her, she didn't seem to care about too much of anything other than her own desires."

"Sounds like most vampires to me," Xander said as he walked back to the table. "I mean, we have Spike, who kidnaps us for a love spell—"

"Xander," Giles warned before the younger man could take another poke at Angel.

The dark-haired teen frowned and fell back into his seat.

"At least we have a theory," Giles said as his eyes scanned the room and fell on each person. "Now, all we have to do is find a spell that will enable someone to travel from one universe to another."

Xander groaned, his head falling on top of the open book.

Giles inwardly sighed silently agreeing with him.

Now they had two impossible tasks on their plates.

Only on the Hellmouth.

"Love, time to wake up," Spike whispered into her ear as he began rubbing her bare back.

She shook her head and proceeded to shove it underneath her pillow. "No, Spike. Sleep," she moaned, her voice muffled by the bedclothes.

He chuckled softly as he began raining kisses on her shoulders. "No, you have to go to the library—find out if they're going to help us."

He heard her whimper and kicked her feet. She pulled the pillow off and lifted her head, pouting.

He couldn't help laughing out loud. "Red, you almost got her pout down."

She growled, rolling over onto her back, giving Spike a delightful peak at her breasts and smacked him with the pillow. "I could never pout as well as she does. She uses it as a weapon."

"And you don't?" He asked, his scarred eyebrow raised in question while he moved down to cover her body with his. "Love, if you don't—maybe you should—you do it so well," he finished, his lips touching hers.

"Umm, I do?"

"Um hmm." He began nibbling on her mouth. "Makes me want to just kiss you—take that bottom lip of yours into my mouth and suck on it...make you moan," he ran his tongue across it. "And while you're concentrating on those sensations, I can do this." His cool hand cupped her breast, running his fingertip over her nipple.

Willow whimpered as she arched her chest—pushing herself into his hands.

"And then I can do this," he said as he dropped his other hand to her sex and slid a finger along her slit, causing her to moan as she jutted her hips upwards seeking more contact.

Chuckling softly, he lifted his head and smiled down at her, knowing that she was going to be thoroughly pissed at him. "Awake yet?"

Her eyes widened as her mouth formed a perfect 'O' of surprise.

"You aren't quitting? You're just stopping?"

Spike nodded and sighed dramatically. "Love, I'm as uncomfortable as you are—but you have to get going. It's already two in the bloody afternoon and sunset is at 5:30. I don't want a repeat of last night. I want you here—in my arms at 5 PM. Got it, pet?"

Willow nodded, as a yawn slipped out. After rubbing her flushed face, she stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, I can't very well get up if you don't move," she said, pushing on his chest.

What a spitfire. And he knew by experience that it would be carried over if she would be brought across. Three nights spent in the company of the other Willow told him that. Cupping her face, he turned it so it was facing him. He bent his head down and touched his lips with hers. Feeling himself harden again, he quickly pulled back and rolled off her.

"Go on, Red. You're free."

He heard her groan as she sat up and swung her legs off the bed. Her eyes scanned the area and she swooped down and picked up his red shirt and slipped it on.

She looks better in it than I do, Spike thought to himself as he watched head for the kitchenette. As she fiddled with the coffee maker, he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

What a strange week it had been.

He had been working on his second bottle of tequila when the other Willow had abducted him. If he hadn't been so snookered on the booze and so shocked at the appearance of the witch dressed in leathers and a vampire, he may've killed the bitch before he even knew what was going on.

As it stood, he had just been bloody pissed off. That is, until seconds later when she crawled on top of him and sat on his crotch.

His irritation quickly disappeared with the rising of his cock as the redhead vixen rocked her pelvis into his.

Demon-faced and more than a bit horny, he growled and rolled over, pinning her down with his body. Before she could say anything, he had his cock out, her pants down and was sliding into her cold, wet hole.

All he could say in his defense was that it had been too bloody long since he had gotten laid. And to have one of his fantasies coming close to fruition, was just a bit too much strain on his tenuous control at best.

It wasn't until they both spent and their clothes fixed that he even thought of asking what the hell was going on.

In his defense, he did managed to remain somewhat calm until she finished speaking. As his drunken mind twirled her words around his brain, his control snapped, and once again, he had her pinned down to the ground—but this time with the intent of killing her.

But like his Willow said, the vampire Willow was a manipulative little bitch and talked her way out becoming filler for a Dustbuster, using logic and common-sense to get through his hazed-filled anger.

And she was right. It wasn't his world. He didn't know the rules or the players—at least anymore. And her final argument was she was his ticket back home—if he killed her, not only would he have to deal with his other self's anger, but Angelus' and the Master's wrath as well.

And he wouldn't have any Willows to ever play with.

He found himself chuckling softly at her choice of words, but couldn't help but agree with her. His desire for his Willow—the hauntingly innocent witch that shared his bed the night before—was what finally pushed Drusilla away. Granted, he would've never left his Black Goddess, but since he'd been stranded in that blasted wheelchair, he hadn't been satisfied with her.

Things had changed with Dru and him. It was just like the Slayer's mum said—people grow apart and what was once good, just wasn't anymore. No longer did Dru's warped devotion fill his undead heart.

He just didn't trust her anymore.

What an oxymoron—trusting a demon. But it was true. His loyalty and love for her was never enough. He could deal with her unflinching devotion to their sire—it was just an insane version of his own feelings. But catching her with that Chaos Demon broke something inside of him that for months, he was unable decipher. It wasn't until his second month of sitting on the stool at that Mexican bar did he figure out what it was that he lost: his trust.

Before Angelus' demon-self returned, Spike knew that no matter what, Drusilla would always love him, be loyal to him and respect him. After seeing her tongue shoved down that ugly, piss-ass Chaos Demon's throat—he couldn't say that anymore. Sure, they had both taken lovers in the past, but this was different. He could feel her contempt for Spike just roll off her like waves of anger and dissatisfaction. He took her daddy away and no matter what he did, he could never make it right. Spike didn't deserve the right to trust her and she was ready to show him why.

The trip to Sunnydale was a drunken, last-ditch effort to somehow recapture what he'd lost there the year before. And in some ways, he did.

He remembered who he was—Spike, William the Bloody, childe of Angelus and one of the most deadly and feared vampires on the planet. He drove back to Brazil, stormed into Dru's lair, and claimed her—leaving a bloody trail in his wake.

But it wasn't enough.

She still left him. But at least the second time, the anger and contempt for one another was shoved to the side and they finally talked of what happened.

He changed and she hadn't.

And for some odd reason, he could accept that. At least until he reached the Mexican border. And now, as he watched Willow gather her things for her trip to the library, he realized that he was finally ready to let go of Dru.

Maybe it was seeing the other Spike and Willow—in a different universe, with different circumstances, still drawn to one another that made him realize that maybe the end of his relationship with Dru had more to do with fate than earlier believed.

This Spike had lost Dru as well.

How many other Spike's were out there—struggling to deal with losing their Dru's? Or did they stay, despite their unhappiness? Or did they wallow in despair, becoming more like their souled-sire than this Spike ever dared to?

Willow sat down on the bed, pulling him out of his thoughts and lifted her hand up to trace his scarred eyebrow. "I've got the phone—I'll call you if something turns up," she paused, smiling down at him. "I promise to be back by five."

He sat up and kissed her, running his tongue along her lips. "You better hurry up, Red. I plan on doing lots of naughty things to you tonight."

"Promise?"

He pulled back and got out of bed. "Promise." He walked around and took her arm. "Now, let me walk you to the door."

"We'll help you," Giles said as he looked over at her, his eyes reflecting a sadness that Willow could only begin to understand.

"Thank you," she whispered as the weight she hadn't even known she was carrying, was lifted. "And I'm sure that if he could, my Giles would thank you too. I know, by now, they're going crazy with worry."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked as she looked up from the crossbow that she had been holding.

"I told you about the Ascension? Well, we were supposed to meet yesterday morning here—or there, here—to research. Oz—my Oz—was supposed to pick me up. If I wasn't there, I know he would've checked my room out. I'm not sure about magical signatures, but if he could smell something, he would've picked it up. And Angel too."

"Is he—your Oz—a werewolf too?" Oz asked quietly.

Willow nodded. "His cousin Jordy bit him accidentally."

He shrugged, giving her a small smile. "Same here."

Giles cleared his throat. "We still have to find the spell—that might take a few—few days..."

She shook off her backpack and pulled out a notebook, ripping out a clean sheet of paper. After writing her cellphone number on it, she slid the paper over to the Watcher. "Here's my cellphone number. We're going to try to stay out of sight. Hopefully that'll keep all interested parties away from me." She glanced at her watch and sighed softly. "I've got to go. I promised Spike I'd be back by 5pm. We were spotted last night. Luckily, it was only my other self and Spike's other self. Anyone else..." she stopped, leaving the rest unsaid.

She stood up and met Oz's eyes. "Co—could we talk—just us?"

His eyebrow arched in question and nodded slowly. "How 'bout I drive you home?"

Willow gave him a small smile. "Thanks." She got up and turned to Amy. Grabbing her arm, she squeezed it affectionately. "Thank you."

Amy nodded, her eyes watering. "No Willow, thank you for bringing my friend back—if only for a few days."

Willow couldn't help herself and hugged the witch. Goddess, did she miss Amy. "Same here."

Oz stepped up to her and together they left the library.

It wasn't until they were parked in the alley by the back door of her new home, did Willow finally find the courage to talk to him. In her usual, nervous rambling way, Willow told him of everything that had happened between her and her Oz—up until the fatal kiss in the factory.

It was then he interrupted her. "So, you're staying with the same vampire that kidnapped you, knocked Xander out, threatened you with a broken bottle and drunkenly dumped his life's problems onto your lap?"

"Um—yeah."

"Definitely of the weird," he said as his finger's tightened their hold onto the steering wheel.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"And you trust him?"

She nodded yes.

"Why?"

She turned to him and frowned. "What happened between you two? Or between you and your world's Spike? I can tell, because this isn't a normal Oz reaction."

He shrugged. "A few months ago, during my wolf time, Spike came in and raided the library—looking for some book. He killed the girl staying with me and decided to tranquilize me and have fun with the wolfboy. I escaped the third night. Luckily, all I managed to eat was a few vampires."

Willow's eyes shut as felt Oz's pain. When they had thought her Oz had gotten out earlier this year and killed someone, he was nearly devastated. It was one of the only times she saw that laid-back façade that he wore like a second face, crack.

She turned and faced him as she reached for one of his hands. "I can't say that this Spike wouldn't do the same. What makes him different isn't that his demon is any less cruel, it's just that he's widened his horizons. No longer are all humans considered cattle to him. I'm a person to him. He cares for me. Buffy, even though he'd deny it, is a person to him. He loves her mother. She fixed him hot chocolate when he was in town the last time and commiserated about Dru over cups of hot cocoa.

"That's what changed for him. And that's what your Spike is missing. Your Spike is carrying that arrogant, 'I'm a vampire, immortal and hear me roar' kind of mentality that still makes me want to hunt demons."

He nodded as he looked out the windshield. "And you trust him enough to sleep with him?"

Her eyes widened as her heart took off. How did he know? And just as quickly, she knew the answer. The same way her Oz found them at the warehouse. His preternatural sense of smell.

"Yeah, I guess I do or I wouldn't have," she admitted, looking down at her hands on her lap, ignoring the stream of tears running down her face. Why did she feel as if she just broke her Oz's heart?

After nearly five minutes of silence, he sighed softly. "I can't give you absolution, Willow. I don't even know if he could. But if he really loves you like you say he does, than he probably already knows all this, but has been ignoring it—hoping it would go away."

Willow took a deep breath, trying to stop herself from crying and nodded. "That's kinda what I thought," she said quietly as she picked up her backpack and pulled out the cellphone.

After calling Spike and telling him she was there, she turned back to Oz. "Be happy, Oz. That's all I want for either of you."

She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips and quickly scrambled out of the van, unable to face the double of her boyfriend any longer—at least not while she was cheating on him.

As she leaned against the wall, waiting for the lock to be turned, she wondered how the hell she was ever going to rebuild her life once she got back home. Between Oz, Xander and Spike—she had one heck of a mess on her hands.

Spike sighed softly and turned to his side and grabbed a cigarette. After lighting it, he leaned back against the pillows and tried to ignore how much he missed Willow. She had left a couple of hours before, claiming she was hungry for something other than frozen dinners and Spike couldn't help but empathize. After nearly three days of living off of bottled blood, he knew he would have to go hunting the coming evening. Unfortunately, he didn't feel comfortable enough to kill in this world—he needed the slayer and her merry band of helper's assistance too much to risk leaving his calling card. So, it was going to have to be a sip and run sort of thing until they returned to their world.

That was just the first item in list as long as his arm of why he hated this world. It started with the fact that he couldn't find anything interesting on television to his need to stay hidden in a bloody bomb shelter, all the way to knowing that Angelus, his insane demon-self, was running amok through town. He had hoped helping to send him to Hell would pretty much guarantee he'd never have to deal with the bastard again. Unfortunately, he never considered alternative universes.

But despite all that, there was a part of him that would be sad when they left this place.

Here, in Sunnyhell (with a capital H) he had Willow all to himself. No slayer, whelp, wolf or watcher to share her with. No parents to demand her time. No school to call her away from his bed each morning.

Here, she was his.

And unless she was brought across before they made it back home, his role in her life would be significantly diminished. Not to mention the real possibility that he may lose her totally.

Between the slayer and his sire—there was sure to be a battle. Dear ole Buffy would cut off his balls and Angel would wear them around his neck—proudly. Spike was no fool when it came to the slayer. After getting his ass beat by her for almost two years, he had learned quite a lot about her. One, she was extremely protective of what she called, 'her people.' And Willow was definitely one of her people.

And with Angel? Hell, vampires are notoriously territorial. Angel would see Spike as trespassing into his territory and stake him just on principle.

Yes, Angel would have a fit.

Especially if what he suspected was true. If this Angelus was so obsessed with Willow, who's to say that his sire wasn't as well. Spike had already racked his brain, trying to remember every conversation the two had during Angelus' brief stay and unfortunately, everything seemed to support his theory. He never once mentioned killing Red—only playing with her and eventually turning her. Although the slayer's existence seemed to taunt him—remind him of what a wuss he was as a Soulboy, Willow just enticed him.

Both of them—Buffy and Angel—had just enough self-righteousness flowing through their veins that they would believe they were doing it for Willow's sake, despite her feelings towards Spike.

"Bloody hell, I'm not going to let her go," Spike whispered in the air as he crushed his cigarette, watching the embers fade out in the glass ashtray.

He was always such a damn Nancy-boy when it came to love. He knew it. Even at his most evil, when he was making a name for himself as a vampire, one look from Dru would send his world a spin. And now, he found himself once again slipping into the abyss of love.

Yeah, he was Love's bitch—there was no doubt about it.

Groaning softly, he turned over onto his back and fell into a fitful sleep.

"Shit," Willow cursed under her breath as she saw the sun fading from view. She didn't mean to be out this late. She glanced at her watch and groaned softly when she realized it had stopped. It was still reading 3pm—it had to be at least 5:30—if the sun was any indication.

"I'm hurrying lady," the cab driver mumbled. "I better get a good tip out of this. Dark is coming mighty fast and I want to be safe and sound in my house..."

"Me too," Willow whispered as her fingers slipped underneath the maroon scarf touched the healing bite mark on her neck. A wave heat flooded her system and she squirmed in her seat, anxious to get home—to Spike.

She leaned back in her seat in shock when she realized what had just passed through her mind: Spike was home.

Three days in this world—two of those as Spike's lover and he was already so much more enmeshed in her life than Oz or Xander ever would be. So much so that she couldn't see a future without him. Oh she knew that once they got home, there would be a lot of resistance against them—and a lot of anger as well, but since she realized that she had wanted Spike—not Oz or Xander—she had begun mentally preparing herself for the upcoming battle.

The first step was talking with this Oz. Although it hadn't gone as well as she would've hoped, the end result was what she needed to hear; if her Oz loved her and knew her as well as she thought he did, then he already knew she wasn't as happy with him as they had hoped.

The next person she would talk to was this world's Giles—if anything just to gauge his reactions. Her Giles was more of a father to her than Ira ever was and his opinion mattered to her. Much more than her parents—

"We're here, lady," the cab driver snapped as he turned in his seat.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, Willow nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. "Oh, sorry," she said. Opening the door, she slid out and grabbed the laptop and modem boxes and deposited them onto the concrete. Then she grabbed her backpack and dug inside, pulling out two twenties. "Here you go—drive safely. Do you have a cross with you?" she asked softly, feeling so bad for keeping him out past dark.

The cab driver's face softened as he heard the question. Once he grabbed the money, he popped open the glove box and grinned. Inside it were two wooden crosses, a water gun and a couple of stakes. "Thanks lady, you be careful now."

"I will," Willow said as she pushed down the lock on the door and slammed it shut. Almost immediately, the cab drove out of the alley, actually burning rubber as the driver headed for the safety of his home.

"I hope he makes it," Willow whispered as she pulled out her cell phone and hit the redial. After two rings, Spike picked up.

"Pet, I hope that's you," he growled into the phone.

She grinned. "Sorry I'm late. My watch broke. It got stuck on three PM. Listen, I'm in the alley—can you let me in?"

"What was that, love?"

Frowning, she leaned over and picked up the modem box and stuck it in her backpack. "You know—move the bookcase so I can get inside," she said as she shook her head. I wonder if he drank some bad blood or something? Spike's never this forgetful...

"Sorry 'bout that—my bloody mind took a vacation. I'll be right up."

Shaking her head, she picked up the laptop box and flung her backpack over her shoulder and walked over to the door to wait for Spike—ignoring the fear gnawing at her gut.

She hated being outside past dark. Especially here.

"I found it!" Cordelia yelled, causing Xander to nearly knock over his coffee.

"Jeez, Cordy, a little louder—"

"Did you hear me, moron? I found it—at least I think I found a spell that we can use!"

"Cordelia, let me see, please," Giles asked, his hand out for the book. She slid it over and got out of her seat to stand behind him.

"See, up here—that top spell—the Worldly Traveler."

Giles read over it twice before looking up to meet Wesley's eyes and shook his head.

"Why not?" Xander asked, noticing the scowl forming on Cordelia's face.

After pushing the book across the table to the other watcher, Giles sighed and leaned back in his chair. "It requires a material object of that world. Without it, we'd be sending whomever to whatever world the Fates deem fit."

"What kind of material object? Something personal?" Oz asked as he looked up from his guitar from his perch on the stairs.

"Yes, that would be good. The more personal the best—it'll help center the spell to the correct location as well," Wesley said, his head still bent over the book as he re-read the spell. Suddenly, he looked up and frowned. "Why, Oz? Did the other Willow leave something behind?"

Oz placed the guitar on the stand and stood up. Looking straight at Giles he chuckled softly. "She gave Willow her leather bra—the one that she wore underneath that corset thingie. She told Willow that she needed more than her—whatever that means."

"A bra? Is anyone else bothered by this?" Xander asked as he slammed shut his book.

Cordelia snorted. "Although I don't understand vampire's fetish for cowhide, I have to agree with her. Willow could use a little lift—"

"Cordelia!" Giles snapped as he pulled his glasses off to rub his tired eyes. "Can you go over and get it Oz?"

"Yeah, I'm on it," he called out, already halfway out the door.

"So Giles, who are we sending over?"

"I don't think we have much of choice," Wesley said as pushed back his chair. "If that world is as dangerous as implied, only the slayer or Angel should be sent."

"And with Faith's loyalties with the Mayor, we can't risk leaving the Hellmouth without a slayer," Giles added softly.

"Why not me?" Xander asked. "I mean, I fight pretty well. Besides, I can travel during the day and—"

"And at night—you'd be a fresh meat," Cordelia snapped. "Don't be stupid, Xander. Didn't she talk of her Xander? Are you ready to meet your vampiric double? Look at all the trouble Willow's caused her—"

"I have to agree with Wesley and Cordelia. I'm sorry Xander. But it's just too dangerous for any of us 'normals' to risk it. For all we know, our Willow has been turned. And if that has happened, whoever gets sent over not only has to deal with the Master, their Willow but our Willow and Spike. It's just too dangerous." Giles slipped on his glasses and stood up. "And as much as I hate to admit it, Hell was pretty good to Angel when it comes to strength. He's much more powerful now than he was before. Even I, a mere dabbler in magic, can feel it."

Xander threw his hands up in the air. "All right, all right. I get the point. I'll back down and let Deadboy save the day once again."

Cordelia shook her head as she gathered her things. "You need to get a life, Xander and quit worrying so much about what Angel does. It's getting pretty old." She stood up and looked over at Wesley. "I'm leaving. Would you walk me out to my car?"

"Uh, yes, that would be fine," Wesley muttered as he stood up. "If you'll excuse us."

Xander rolled his eyes at the departing couple. "G-man, let me ask you something. Does Wesley even know the meaning of jailbait?"

Giles couldn't stop the small smile that curled his lips. "I'm not quite sure, Xander..."

"I know—I spent a lot money and I didn't ask you ahead of time but she did give us over ten grand and I was thinking that maybe I could find the spell myself over the 'Net 'cause I am Netgirl and all and this place is really spooking me out. Home was bad enough—but at least Buffy was around and I have to be honest—I'm not too impressed with this Buffy—not that she couldn't be a good person and all if she dropped the attitude—but I miss her—my Buffy. Besides I want to get home and de-rat Amy now that I know where the spell is and I'm rambling, and Spike, say something," she said and took a deep breath, trying to catch hers. Frowning, she began walking across the room from the kitchen table to the bed, where he was sitting.

"Spike—what is it? Are you mad? It was on sale--$1500—pretty good for a laptop—"

He lifted his head and at the same time, reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging her over to him.

"Spike! What—" she stopped, her heart racing uncontrollably at their proximity. Goddess, she was only gone for five hours yet she missed him so much. She looked up, met his eyes and froze.

Something was wrong. His eyes had changed back to that cold indifference that she remembered from the time he had kidnapped her.

"What happened?"

Wrapping his arms around her, he flipped over, and settled on top of her. "Pet, did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" He asked her right before smashing his lips down on top of hers.

At first, Willow just fell into it. His cool lips moved effortlessly against hers, nibbling on her bottom lip—coaxing her mouth open. Moaning softly, her heart began to race as her stomach did mini flip-flops. Goddess, I missed him, she thought to herself as she wrapped her arms around his neck and began playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

His hands were far from idle as one moved down to her breasts and kneaded it—worrying her nipple. She arched her back, pushing her breast into his hand when her eyes fluttered open and met his dark, lust filled gaze.

But they were still cold—as if they were missing something—something like love.

She froze, mid-kiss. Unbidden, the memory of Angel standing in the dark, calling her over to him flew through her mind and her body tensed. She felt this way before. If she hadn't known better and he hadn't already been a soul-less demon, she would've believed that Spike just pulled an Angel.

And then it hit her.

This was not her Spike.

Pushing her hands against his chest, she tried to dislodge him, ignoring the erection poking against her stomach or the wave of heat that flooded her system.

This may not be her Spike—but it was still Spike.

"Where is he? What did you do with him?"

"I'll be damned, Willow was right."

"Willow? What did she do? Did she take Spike? Why would she take Spike? She brought me here so he could go home! Tell me, is he okay?"

Chuckling softly, he rolled off her and lit a cigarette. "You were actually pretty lucky. The Master found out where you two were staying and sent a few of the boys over to grab both of you and bring you to him." He turned his head and watched her. "But you were gone. So they just took the other Spike. Willow didn't find out until she saw him being dragged in and she called me to meet up with you. To keep an eye on you, pet."

Willow bit her bottom lip, trying not to cry. Goddess, if anything happened to him, she would just die. Not now, not after finally finding him. That ugly vampire! She hated the Master—now more than ever. Sitting up, her eyes scanned the room and it hit her. All their things were gone. Their personal things. "Where is everything?"

"My place. I had my boys pack up everything and take it."

"How? It was daytime? How? Matter-of-fact, how did they get Spike?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Come on, pet, your Sunnyhell can't be that different—"

Willow hit her forehead. "The tunnels! Did he know about them—at least here?"

Spike shrugged. "Probably. But I'm sure he didn't give it too much thought. From what Willow told me, he found this shelter first in your Sunnydale and it was as abandoned as this one was. He probably figured no one remembered it being here." He stabbed out his cigarette and swung his legs off the bed.

Once standing, he walked over to her side of the bed and held out his hand for her. "As much as I would love to finish what we started, it's not safe here."

Blushing, she nodded and scooted over to the edge of the bed and stared at his hand and then looked up and saw the amused grin sporting his face.

"Asshole," she muttered as she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

"That I am, pet," he said as they walked over to the kitchen table. Once he released her hand, he picked up her backpack and handed it to her. Then he grabbed the laptop box. "I had one of the boys bring over my car. It should be parked in the alley by now."

Willow nodded as she fought her embarrassment. She almost made love to the wrong Spike! How could she? Was she destined to be a cheater? A horrible, slut-like girl who flittered from one man to the next?

"Oh Goddess, how much more complicated can my life get?" she asked herself, barely whispering.

She heard a low chuckle from the Spike in front of her. "A lot more, if I have anything to say about it."

"Willow, let me out of here! I've got to go find Red. She's out there—without any protection—"

Pouting, the redhead shook her head. "No can do, Spikey. The Master wants to talk to you."

Growling in frustration, he wrapped his fingers around the metal bars of his cage and tried bending them.

They didn't move.

She sauntered over to him and laid a hand on his fingers while wagging a finger at him. "Now, none of that, Blondie. I'll have to douse them with Holy Water if you keep that up. Why can't you be a good boy and just talk to the Master? And then you'll get to leave!"

Spike yanked his fingers free from her grasped and rolled his eyes. "Leave?" he asked, incredulity lacing his voice. "Pet, you must've lost a few brain cells when you were turned. The Master doesn't cage his guests. He gives them rooms with live meals!"

"She's safe, you know."

"How do you know? If that bloody prick Angelus gets his hands on her—he'll turn her!"

"She's with Spike."

Spike's mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh, bloody wonderful! And I'm supposed to feel good about this? He's too intrigued not to want to play with her!"

She shrugged, dipping her head to the side as she ran her fingers across the bars. "Maybe—but I've talked to him and he promised not to hurt her."

"And you believe him? Willow, he'll either shag her senseless, then turn her, or shag her senseless then drain her or if we're real lucky and he's feeling especially magnanimous he may just shag her senseless."

Willow looked up through her bangs as her hand reached through the bars and grabbed his shirt, yanking him to her. Sticking her tongue out, she ran it across his lips and then nibbled on his bottom lip.

Almost instinctively, Spike felt himself harden. Damn vixen, he mentally cursed as he pressed himself against the bars and opened his mouth, inviting her in.

As their tongues dueled, Willow dropped her hand and rubbed it against his hardening crotch. Minutes later, she broke the kiss and smiled at him. "I'm kinda hoping for the third option. How 'bout you?"

Buffy handed him three bottles of holy water and a handful of stakes. "You will be careful, won't you?" she asked, watching Angel as he stuffed the items into his duffel bag.

He nodded as he zipped the bag up. "Yes, I'll be fine."

"Did Giles give you the orb and the spell?"

He nodded again. "All packed away. I just hope we don't need to use it."

"Can you do a spell that powerful? If you need to?"

Angel leaned back against his dresser and sighed softly. "Giles also gave me a letter—that he wrote—proving that I'm who I say I am to give to his other self. From what Oz has told us, Giles is there—in that Sunnydale. He was just slayer-less."

Buffy shot up off the bed and began pacing. "Every time this comes up—about how much Willow knew about this other place I can't help but wonder how much those two talked! They must've spent that whole night—in the library—just talking. How could she do that? Why would she do that?"

Angel shrugged. "I don't know. But lets be honest—if I had met my vampire self—souled or not souled—when I was human, I'd be a bit curious too."

"And when you weren't souled? Would you still be drawn to yourself?"

"I don't know. Maybe—if the circumstances were right. But Willow—that Willow—she was more like Dru or Spike. She had feelings."

Buffy stared at the wall and sighed. "I'm worried about Spike. If what we figured is true, then they've been together for over three days..."

Angel stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Yeah, I know. Me too." He stepped back, picked up his duffel bag and grabbed her hand. "Come on, let's go. The sooner I get there, the sooner I can find out what's going on."

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