***

~Prologue~

***

"The suicide, as she is falling,
Illuminated by the moon,
Regrets her act, and finds appalling,
The thought she will be dead so soon."
--Edward Gorey

***

Willow relaxed into the embrace of the pillows, eyes closed and fluttering as the light, feather-like strokes of the small brush caressed her upper back.

"So, do you think anything exciting will happen tonight?" Tara questioned inquisitively as she painted with delicate strokes across her girlfriend's
porcelain skin.

Willow's voice was soft, caught in the space between sleep and awake.

"Probably nothing big...now that Adam's out of the picture...."

Tara nodded and finished the last few streaks of henna.

"Done," she announced, tucking a lock of dirty-blonde hair behind her ear and blowing carefully on the design.  It wasn't the most intricate, but it was beautiful.  She was proud of herself for having done such a good job.  Gooseflesh rose beneath the ink on Willow's skin, dimpling the small faerie's wings that stretch from the center of her upper back to about halfway to her shoulder blades.  The redhead immediately rose to the news, a smile gracing her face as she turned to try and catch a glimpse of the design.

"I wanna see."

The other witch stood and retrieved a small mirror from her dresser.  Willow walked over to the full-length mirror, her arms crossed over her bare
breasts.  She faced her reflection as Tara held up the other mirror, allowing Willow to view her new wings.

"They're beautiful," she breathed, a wide smile spanning from ear to ear.

"They're not the only thing," Tara spoke hesitantly, placing a butterfly kiss on her girlfriend's shoulder. Willow flushed and turned to embrace her, bare breasts forgotten.

***

Asmodeus watched the two young witches play out their hesitant love, a sinister smile curling upon his lips. As was the way in Hell, a sin for a sin was about to take place.  It was his "raison d'etre," after all, he smirked at the vampire's words.  Spike.  What a perfect checkmate for the two girls.  The match would make Asmodeus' mother and father beam with pride.

"Asmodeus."

The demon turned abruptly on his heel.

"Yes, father?"

"You seem...dissatisfied."

He hesitated, then twisted his lips up into a mischevious smirk.

"Not for long...Azrael."

The fallen angel smiled at his son's use of his name. It almost always was a sign that would secretly say of wicked things to come mortal ways.

***

~Part One~

***

"So, is Riley still MIA for the PDAs?" Willow inquired as she, Buffy, and Tara all strolled through one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries.  The slayer was, for all technicalities, patrolling, but Adam's little war had taken many casualties on both demon and human sides, and activity remained low.  For the time being, at least.

"Yeah.  He's got a lot of stuff to sort out.  I'm hoping it all clears ASAP," the blonde sighed, missing the comfort of her boyfriend's arms.

Willow gave her best friend an encouraging smile.

"I'm sure he will.  Riley's not the type to stay away from Buffy-ness for too long."

The slayer returned the smile and nodded.

"Waiting for the little puppy to come crawling home with his tail between his legs?  Really, slayer, I would've thought you'd have him on a choke chain by now."

The sudden entrance of a deep, masculine voice into their conversation caused all three girls' heads to turn.  Leaning apathetically against a tree, Spike took a long, soothing drag from his ever-present cigarette, regarding them with a psychotic calm.

"Spike," Buffy acknowledged him, glaring with both her face and voice.  "You know, I was wondering; do you purposely seek me out to annoy me?  Has it become some sort of new hobby now that your...equipment is malfunctioning?"

The blond vampire snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself.  Wouldn't want to be sinkin' my teeth into your rawhide skin anyway.  Probably taste all sour and icky."

"Mm.  I guess I might lack the sweet taste of insanity that you're so used to.  Oh, wait--you were dumped. Not used to it anymore.  So sorry."

Spike scowled venomously, jaw and fists clenching and unclenching in rage.

"Least I could shag Dru senseless on a frequent basis. You were such a lousy lay that you made the bloody poof regret ever turning good.  I mean, hell, he hated you after that one."

"How dare you...I swear to God, if you ever--"

"Shh!"

"Don't you "shh" me, you impotent--"

"Shut.  Up.  I hear somethin'...."

All four looked around themselves in apprehensive silence.  Willow tightened her grip on Tara's hand. Tara inched closer to the redhead.  Spike tilted his head to the side, concentrating on the unfamiliar sound.  Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, like billowing sails. Like...wings.  Very big wings.  Since when did any demons have wings?

"When their fathers weren't demons to begin with."

The group jumped at the voice and spun to come face-to-face with the owner of said wings.  He was...gorgeous, by all human standards.  Tall,
broad-shouldered, olive-skinned, muscular; an Adonis of a male specimen.  His dark hair was curled and unruly, a few strands spiraling onto his forehead.  He wore nothing but a pair of black cargo pants--a bit modern for a demon, but with his appearance, he would never be perceived as a demon at all.  An ebony wingspan of well over twenty feet had been neatly folded criss-cross on his back, and a few midnight-colored down feathers drifted to the ground.

"Who the hell are you?" the slayer demanded, immediately taking initiative.

"Bossy little brat, isn't she?" the angelic-looking demon commented to no one in particular.  "But, I digress.  I am Asmodeus.  Remember it well, for your fate lies within it."

Willow felt a shiver run through her spine at his words.

"Wh-what...what are you?" she asked, her voice faltering.  This...this thing just didn't feel right. It made her want...and that was all.  No specific
thing, person.  Just...want.  Need.  Desire.

"I am...you can feel what I am," he answered cryptically.

Spike's voice sounded next through the air, and Willow could practically feel the vibrations of his low and husky tone as it reached her ears.

"Asmodeus, eh?  Doesn't ring a bell.  Guess you're not too important 'round these parts.  And I do believe that you said something about being a demon...which means that this is really going to hurt."

Without further thought, Spike lunged at the demon, striking it in the jaw with a perfectly executed uppercut.  Perfectly executed, but completely
ineffective.  Asmodeus' head turned with the blow, but he did not waver.  Instead, he merely stretched out a hand to Spike's chest and began to glow a pulsing red. The shock wave threw the vampire a good thirty feet before he collided with a willow tree and sagged limply to the ground.

"Not again," Buffy muttered under her breath and charged at black-winged creature, her fist connecting solidly with its gut.  Once again, Asmodeus did not move, but he did not lash out at her, either.  The slayer tried to use this to her advantage and swung a roundhouse kick to his neck, but to no avail.  She continued to beat at him, but it was like fighting a wall of steel.  Willow and Tara moved to the left and right of the one-sided battle taking place before them, and outstretched their arms.  They began to chant, synchronized in their words of protection and wills.

Asmodeus quickly bored of this scene and waved his left arm in a half-circle around him.  Buffy and Tara went sailing through the air in one direction, while Willow was knocked the same way Spike had been.  The vampire groaned as he began to regain consciousness.

"I'm gonna drain dry whoever hit me with that bloody truck--oof!" he grunted as a redheaded witch was thrown on top of him.  "The hell?"

"Ohh, that hurt...."

"Red?"

"Yeah?" Willow squeaked out as she tried to regain the breath that had been knocked from her lungs.  Spike said nothing more and shifted beneath her soft, warm body, trying to sit up without kicking her off of him. The witch managed to rise up on her hands and knees before slumping back against the tree beside him. Both of them searched the darkness with their eyes to see if the threat was still there.  Asmodeus appeared to be nowhere in sight.

"You hurt bad?" Spike asked, and Willow was surprised to hear genuine concern tinge his voice.

"I'm not sure.  My knee hurts, and my ribs."

"We gotta get back to the watcher's, get you taken care of."

"Spike?"

"Red?"

"Are you hurt?"

The vampire was a bit taken aback by the question.  No one ever asked about his condition.  Coldhearted bastards.  Not that he was any different.

"Nothing serious.  I just need to..." he trailed off and stood up, staggering slightly.

"Need to what?"

Her question was answered as he threw himself against the tree with a loud growl.  A sickening crack made her wince as his shoulder popped back into its socket. Spike found himself breathing deeply through the pain, waiting for it to numb into a dull ache.

"Okay, fixed.  Can you walk?"

"I don't know," Willow answered honestly.  She attempted to stand, cringing as her ribs and knee protested every movement.  Before she could utter a yelp of surprise, she found herself quickly scooped up in Spike's arms.  "Oh!  Your arm!  Am I hurting you?"

Spike shook his head.

"It's already healing.  Let's find Slutty and your little friend so we can get out of here.  I don't fancy that wanker coming back just yet."

Willow nodded as guilt crept up on her.  She hadn't even remembered Tara and Buffy.  But she hurt too much to think about that right then.  Instead, she opted to thread her arms around the vampire's neck and curl up against the safety of his chest and lose herself the bittersweet scent of leather and cigarettes.

***

~Part Two~

***

"Asmodeus?" Giles questioned, his brow knitted in thought.  "Doesn't ring any bells...I'll get right on it."

"It was almost unreal, Giles.  He looked so human, and he was so strong...he said something about his parents not being demons to begin with. God, we just finished with Adam; I don't want to have to go through all that again."  Buffy paced restlessly around the living room of the sorcerer's apartment.  Tara watched the girl worriedly, still a bit in shock at what she had just been through.  Never in her life had she met anything with such power, so much control over destruction. Her mind reeled in silence as she sat and watched the auras of the others swirl in anxious, aimless colors.

Spike listened to the muffled sounds of the slayer's boots click on the floor as he attended to Willow's wounds in the bathroom.  Her knee was swollen and enflamed; obviously sprained.  He dressed it tightly as possible without cutting off her circulation in an ace bandage and lightly swept his fingers up her warm thigh to the hem of her shirt.  Willow instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, but loosened her grip as an elbow connected with bruised flesh.  She bit down on her lower lip, unsure of what to do, of what he was going to do.

"Off with the shirt, Red.  I need to see those ribs," he ordered softly.  The redhead's eyes searched the room nervously for something to stall with.  Finding nothing, she leaned forward, exposing the small ties that held the shirt together in the back.  She silently cursed herself for having borrowed one of Buffy's backless numbers so she could show off her new henna tattoo.

Spike's hands were gentle and exagerratingly slow. His fingertips brushed along her flushed skin before he loosened and undid the ties.  Willow allowed the shirt to slip off of her front and blushed crimson, trying to save her modesty by covering it with her arms.  It was just her luck that the injured ribs were right to the side and barely below her right breast. The vampire started to draw her arms away, but stopped when he felt her flinch.

"It's okay," he whispered.  "Only for a second.  Just a peek-a-boo."

She smiled slightly at his joke, then tentatively raised her arms.  Spike swallowed hard and tried to keep clinical in his observations, but the sight of
her pale flesh so close to him was nearly driving him batty with want.  Willow shivered as his cool hands grazed the bruised area.  She felt her face redden as her nipples hardened with the chill and goosebumps appeared on her skin.

"Nothing broken...just bruised and a bit of a gash. Antiseptic and a gauze patch should have you right as rain in no time."

With this conclusion, he reached into the watcher's medicine cabinet and retrieved what was needed.  A cottonball was soaked with hydrogen peroxide, and she jumped as it came in contact with her skin like ice. Spike worked quickly, if nothing more than to cover up the temptation to sooth her in other ways.  He was re-tying the slim silk cords of the shirt when the other little witch appeared in the doorway, a nervous and not fully trusting expression on her face.

"W-Willow...Buffy's gonna walk me back to the dorms, I'm really tired after, you know.  Are you s-s-staying here?" Tara stuttered, swallowing her shakey words.

"Yeah.  I'm too wound up to go home just yet.  Gonna see what I can do to help Giles find out who that was out there."  She frowned at her girlfriend's disappointed look, but forced a reassuring smile and grabbed her hand.  "Hey, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Tara gave the hand a squeeze and nodded.

"Okay."

The girl departed, leaving Willow and Spike alone once again.  The redhead's eyes widened slightly as she felt his fingers trace the fine lines of the henna on her back.

"Nice tattoo."

She looked up at him, confused.  Confused at his actions toward her, and confused as to why they seemed to feel so right.

***

The next couple of weeks had been nothing more than a hazy labyrinth.  Mazes seemed to sprout up around the redheaded witch like wild rose bushes, complete with thorns.  She could feel them all, know what each was thinking about her through their eyes.  Tara's suspicious queries, the arch of one of Buffy's eyebrows that seemed to rise so frequently, Xander's unease with her moodiness, Giles' narrowed looks.  But most of all, Spike's penetrating gaze that seemed to be boring into her so very often.  She had lost count of all the times they had locked eyes within the last
eighteen days.  And what was troubling about the fact was that when he wasn't staring at her, she was staring at him.

What had happened?  Her relationship with Tara was crumbling, friendships were beginning to be strained again, and the whole thing with Spike... which was disconcerting, since there really was no "thing" to speak of at all.  Spike knew that.  Didn't he?  And then Willow realized that throughout the last two and a half weeks, she'd had no real time alone with the vampire to talk to him about was going on.  Every time they were in close proximity with each other was reason enough for sly movements; sitting closer than needed, rubbing thigh against thigh, Spike had even been so bold to give her a back rub as she typed at her computer.  And the way each slight touch made her feel....

Something between them was up and getting stranger by the day.  Willow found her resolve and left Giles'  apartment and the demon research for Spike's crypt without a word, leaving behind five odd looks from five puzzled friends.  She would talk to him, ask him exactly what he was trying to pull.

If she could stand far enough away while doing so, that is.

***

Spike was stretched out on his back on the makeshift bed in his mausoleum, watching the ribbons of smoke curl around the air as he puffed on a cigarette.  His mind was occupied with someone that had been present in his thoughts for the past few weeks.  The witch. All that fiery hair, creamy skin, slender, toned body and vibrant green eyes...she had him so delightfully spellbound.  A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he thought of her natural beauty, the sort of sexiness that comes only without trying for it. Satan, what a vampire she'd make....

He sighed loudly and stubbed out the butt of the cigarette and ran his hands through his platinum-blond locks.  They were tousled into disobedient pieces, some falling over his forehead, all spikey like their owner's namesake.  A quiet knock on his door drew him out of his reverie, and he went to answer it, immediately smelling that it was her.  He'd memorized that sweet scent within days of his newfound infatuation with the small hacker.

The vampire opened the door and allowed her entrance, then closed it with a soft click behind him.

"What do you want?" he questioned, the words more harsh-sounding than his tone of voice.

Willow gathered her composure and took a long breath, her fists balled up at her sides as she paced the length of the crypt before coming to a stop about five feet in front of him.

"We need to talk," she finally replied.

"Do we?"

"Yes."  Her voice was grating, angry that he was trying to weasel his way out of the emotions she knew they shared.  "What's been going on, with us..."

"And what might that be, Red?"

"You know what it is!  And it can't keep going on. There's too much to lose, not enough to gain."

He frowned at her belittling.

"How d'you figure that?"

"Because...because...Buffy would kill you.  They'd all want to.  Thinking that you manipulated me--"

"And have I?" he asked cockily, arching a single dark brow.

"No more than I've manipulated you.  And besides, Tara...I'm seeing Tara."

"Doesn't look like much as of late.  You sure about that one?"

"Yes!" she answered, a little too quickly.  He smirked.

"Hit a rough spot?  Fighting, sparring..."

"Neither.  We haven't...we haven't been speaking much at all lately.  And I'm hating it.  I hate that we're distancing, I hate that it's my fault she's avoiding me.  And it's all because of you.  It's like," she paused, searching for the words, "it's like I'm on one of those little mouse-wheel-things.  I run and I run and I run...but I never go anywhere, I--"

"Can't run from you," he finished her sentence.  His eyes softened involuntarily as a feeling washed over him that he hadn't experienced in nearly two hundred years; empathy.

Willow said nothing, and for a while it seemed as though they were frozen in time, the only thing breaking the ice was the green-on-blue stare that they shared.  But as the witch turned it was like a sledgehammer, and the moment shattered into a thousand tiny pieces that lingered like faerie dust in the warm air of the mid-summer night's dream.

"I have to go.  This can't go on.  It's just gotta stop, Spike--"

Her words cut off when she felt his hand grip her wrist.  She turned to face him, unsure of what to expect.  Cerulean eyes gazed at her with such
intensity that she thought her heart might burst from her chest from its sudden acceleration in beats per minute.

Spike wasn't sure what the hell he was doing.  All that he knew, all that he felt, told him not to let her go--not just yet.  She just looked so confused and curious, and the contradictions in everything that made up Willow Rosenberg were driving him mad with the desire to unravel each and every one of them.

With more strength than he meant to use, he pulled her towards himself, held her closely to his body, and pressed his lips fiercely to her own.

Willow knew she might never forgive herself for responding with such equal animosity that she did.

***

~Part Three~

***

Spike growled and lifted the witch up, depositing her on a stone slab that jutted out from the wall.  Willow wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him closer, pushing her mouth against his so hard that her neck began to ache with the strain.  She parted flushed lips, moaning quietly as his tongue delved between them and their mouths battled for dominance.  The redhead forced breaths through her nose, not wanting to break the kiss.  She threaded her arms around his neck, absently thanking the Goddess for his lack of a shirt.  No time need be wasted.

Eventually, he broke away, peeling her own shirt off so quickly she wondered if it had even been there in the first place.  Tossing the thin piece of blue fabric to the side, he set to work on her bra, easily undoing the clasps after decades of experience.  That, too, was thrown to the floor, and he journeyed his mouth to the newly exposed flesh.  Willow arched into him as biting kisses grazed her skin, leaving fire in their wake.

"Spike..." she gasped out, "what's happening?"

He stopped his efforts and his face snapped up to meet hers.  For a moment he simply stared at her, searching for some conclusion, but only saw the blush of her skin, her lips swollen from his kisses, and her emerald eyes, dark and slitted with desire.

"I don't know, love," he whispered.  Without giving her a chance to reply, he resumed his ravaging of her throat and breasts, suckling, licking the edges of her curves.  The pressure in his groin continued to increase, and he pushed his hips into hers in desperate search of release-bringing friction.  This need had been building for weeks, a constant reminder that he had to have her that was seared into his mind like a branding.

Large hands deftly found the zipper of her skirt that started low on her back and undid it with one sharp tug.  An arm snaked around her middle and pulled her up while his other hand gripped the skirt and pulled it down roughly, allowing it to puddle on the dusty floor.  Willow whimpered in frustration as her hands fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans, rubbing him through the constricting fabric and trying to free him at the same time.  Eventually she was successful and tugged them down using her feet, which were still encased in Adidas sneakers.  She was pleased to find that he wore neither boxers nor briefs.

Spike bucked once against the redhead, feeling her moist warmth through the satin fabric of her panties, now the only barrier that separated them.

Willow's foggy mind barely registered the sound of shredded fabric as he ripped through her underwear. His hands gripped her hips and positioned her and himself.  The witch dug her short, blunt nails into his back in anticipation, leaving little crescent marks embedded in his skin.  She cried out as he entered her with a single, powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt.  She hadn't had a man inside of her since Oz left.  In fact, she hadn't had any man but Oz inside of her, ever.  It had been too long. This brought her to points of pleasure that Tara's soft caresses couldn't even come close to.

The vampire gritted his teeth as he was enveloped in her tightness and heat.  He kissed her hard, muffling a groan from both of them as he began rhythmically pumping his hips.  Willow rolled her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, faster and harder and deeper each time.  Her breathing grew ragged, and her heart was beating faster than she ever thought it could.  She listened to the world go mute around them, until the only thing that could be heard was the beating of her heart and the quick breaths that Spike was forcing through his parted lips.  Her head screamed, but the only sound she could manage was a soft moan of satisfaction as she drew nearer and nearer to her brink.

Spike ground his pelvis to hers, leaning forward so that his body rubbed against her clit.  He felt like he was on fire.  She was burning him from the inside out, engulfing him in a scorching inferno.  It was nearly too much to bear.  His actions were desperate and crazy with lust as he pounded into her roughly and quickly, again and again.

Willow felt his tempurature increase to nearly feverish levels.  Why was he so hot?  She thought maybe that her own body heat had warmed him, but to the point where he was actually sweating with her? Unable to think rationally, she decided to ignore it for now and concentrated on the immense pleasure he was giving her.  She squeezed her inner muscles around him, and was rewarded with a grunt as the friction and tension increased for both of them.

He was going to lose it soon.  His cock was painful with the pressure of denied release and the need that had been boiling for so very long.  His muscles were beginning to shake from the strain, but there was no way he could stop now.

"Willow," he breathed, her name a plea on his lips. That soft disruption was enough to push her past her limits.  She cried out and held him close as her body spasmed with orgasm.  Spike felt her inner walls clench and shudder around him, providing the last bit of hot friction he needed.  With a loud growl, he shut his eyes tightly and he stilled, motionless, as his cock twitched and exploded his warm release inside her channel.

His mind spun dizzy and his body trembled.  A small, pale hand brushed over his forehead, gently wiping the sweat from his brow.  Willow stared at him, both relief and worry coursing through her body.

"Are you okay?  You're so hot..."  She ran her fingers through his hair.

Spike said nothing; only nodded.  He'd never felt anything that intense.  It was almost like he had felt the sun itself.

He allowed her to draw him in and pressed his forehead against her own and closed his eyes.

***

Tara didn't do anything to stop the single tear that rolled down her cheek as she felt her girlfriend succumb to the touches of another lover.  Unbeknownst to her now-former love, she had developed a bond, a sort of mind-link to the redhead.  It had been formed through great intuition within the quiet web of secrecy she surrounded herself with.  It hurt.  And that hurt only deepened when she thought of who that other lover was.  A vicious killer had stolen her Willow away.

She tried to keep it in her heart to feel happy for the other witch, for perhaps she had finally found the love she had needed so badly.  But that didn't dam back the despair that gnawed at her soul, because she knew that she was going to have to be the one to break it off with the girl.  She had to give her that much. A clean break, minimal guilt.  The blonde thought of something Willow had told her that Oz once said:  "As Willow goes, so goes my nation."  She wondered if that ended up being true of everyone Willow touched.

***

Asmodeus smiled as the third member of the triangle made the decision to leave, making it so that only the first, more important two could be bound by a single cord of the spider's web he was weaving for them.  And what a beautiful tapestry it was.  He fed his body with their passion, with the intensity of all their feelings.  Such rich emotions... he had chosen wisely. The magickal garden of shadows was slowly being brought to light, and would continue to inch forward with every taste of the sun.

***

~Part Four~

***

The knock on the door startled Tara out of her thoughts.  She quickly wiped the dampness away from her cheek and took a deep breath, composing herself.

"Buffy," she voiced, surprised to see the small slayer at her door.  She opened it up fully and invited the girl in.  "Is something wrong?"

The other blonde shook her head, concern etching in her features as she noted Tara's red, puffy eyes.  The witch had obviously been crying.

"Willow took off, just jumped up and left from Giles'. I was coming to see if she was here.  Guess not...what's wrong?"

Tara's eyes searched the slayer's aura.  She was more perceptive and capable of compassion than even she knew of.

"It's nothing.  Just...Willow.  And me.  And th-that there is no more Willow and me."

Buffy blinked twice.

"What?  Why?  What happened?"

"Same thing that happens to most couples...we drifted. It's all right.  It's better this way."

"Oh.  I'm...I'm sorry.  I know we're not close, but," she stumbled for the words, then decided that actions were the best route.  Buffy pulled the girl into a soft hug, letting the contact linger a moment before moving back again.  The smile that graced the witch's face had her puzzled.  "What is it?"

"Your aura.  It's just so...fuzzy.  It's like, you're there, and it's ringing loud and clear, but there's something else.  It's like background noise.
Something that's always gonna stay with you.  Oh, don't worry, it's nothing bad.  Just might want to...up the volume a notch or two."

The slayer couldn't stifle the small giggle at the girl's words.  They sounded promising, if cryptic.

"I'll keep that in mind.  Are you still gonna, y'know, hang with the Scoobies?"

Tara shook her head again, adding in a small sigh.

"I think it's best that I keep my distance.  At least for a little while.  But thanks.  You've all taught me a lot.  Sometimes more than I ever wanted to know."

Buffy could feel the corners of her mouth tug into a smile, and turned to leave.

"We tend to rub off like that.  I guess I'll see you around."  She shrugged awkwardly and closed the door with a quiet click.

"Yeah," Tara whispered into the empty space where the slayer had been, "see you."

***

Willow scuffled silently as possible into the darkened dorm room she shared with Buffy.  It had been only a couple of hours since she'd left Spike to return home to avoid any blatant suspicions.  No sooner than she shut the door had the light flickered on and a groggy, bed-headed slayer sat up to greet her.  The sight itself nearly made the redhead jump out of her skin; Buffy was almost always shacking it up with Riley these days.

"Buffy!  You're here!"

A confused look crossed her face as her best friend hopped out of her bed and wrapped bronze-skinned arms around her in a tight hug.

"Oh, Wills...Tara told me about you guys's break up. I'm so sorry."

"S-she did?"

Buffy pulled back and nodded, concern clear on her features.

"I know it's tough, but it'll be okay.  I'm sorry it didn't work out for you two."

Willow could only stare blankly.  Looking back, she would never be sure why she didn't protest the blonde witch's claims.  Part of her said that this was imminent, and that she had Spike now.  But another part felt the telltale betrayal that mingled with the residue from Oz's first departure.  Why hadn't Tara said anything about this to her?  Everything was just so muddled and confusing, and she felt as though she were stuck on a raft in the middle of it all, too afraid of the nasties that lurked beneath the surface to wade to the shore, too brave not to at least stick her hand in and try to paddle to shallower waters.

"So where have you been all this time?"

The question left the witch befuddled.  Quickly, she scanned through her list of excuses that the blonde might believe.

"I-I was just--clearing my head.  Needed some air."

"I understand.  Things'll be looking brighter tomorrow.  I promise."

The redhead nodded numbly.

"Hoping."

***

Much brighter.  Much, much brighter...

The thought slid through Willow's mind as her fingers interlaced with Spike's and her tongue forced against his own.  They were hidden amongst the bushes of Giles' back yard, unable to stand being so close to each other inside as they researched and not being able to touch.  The others were still, hopefully, clueless about the couple's secret rendezvous in the shrubbery, always accepting Spike's excuse of "havin' a bloody smoke" and Willow's of "need a break from the books."

"Mm...Spike..." Willow murmured into his mouth as he ran a hand up and down her back beneath her shirt. "We can't keep doing this.  The others--"

"The others can go sod themselves," the blond vampire amended, silencing her with another fierce kiss.  They hadn't been able to see each other on their own time for another passionate meeting since their first three weeks ago, and it was taking its tole.  Willow was always roped into doing more research on this "Asmodeus" demon, and by the time she had gotten out of the watcher's house in the evenings she was so exhausted from staring at words for hours on end that she only ended up falling asleep while she rested in his arms.  Spike wanted to kill the others for keeping her from him, like a drug addict staring at the syringe with such intense craving, but when he went to stick it into his skin, the needle always broke.  Both
of them were sick of it and ready to strip then and there for a romp in the neatly trimmed grass.

The vampire stopped, his brow furrowing, as she froze in his arms.

"What is it, love?"

"Oh, God...."  A grimace marred her pretty features as she jumped back and staggered a few steps.  Half hidden by a tree, her body lurched violently, purging what little dinner she had eaten that night.  Spike was at her side instantly, holding her hair back as her stomach emptied itself onto the ground.

He heard the back door open and the slayer's voice call out.

"Will, Spike, we need...what's wrong?"  Concern floated around Buffy as she took in the sight of her best friend doubled-over and sick.

"She's bloody ill; what the hell does it look like?" Spike snapped, issuing a glare in the blonde's direction.  He really wished she wouldn't interfere.
But, as always...

Buffy ran forward as the redhead finished heaving, wincing at the groan that escaped Willow's lips.

"Wills, are you okay?"

"Of course she's not bloody okay!  She just threw up her dinner, you daft girl!"  He growled, careful to keep the frantic tones of his voice well- hidden.

"I can see that!  Now move.  The last thing she needs right now is your pale ass over her shoulder."

He didn't even try to control the demon as he vamped out and glared menacingly at the girl.

"You're asking for it, you little whore."

"What did you call me?!"

"God, will both of you just shut up!"  Willow's voice penetrated the tension in the air, bringing both duelists back to their cause for concern.  Buffy
relaxed her fighting stance and Spike slipped back into his human face.  "I'm fine now," she reassured them.  The slayer immediately suctioned an arm around the girl's shoulder and began to lead her inside.  The witch's soft whimpers of protest were lost as the blonde mumbled nonsense about seeing a doctor and led her back inside the house.  Willow cast a needy and apologetic look over her free shoulder at the vampire.

He growled in frustration and wasted no time in punching the stone wall of the sorcerer's house as soon as his Willow and the damn slayer were inside. Gritting his teeth as he looked down at the now broken and bloodied fingers, he muttered curses in multiple languages under his chilling breath.  Something was obviously not right with his witch and he was helpless to do anything for her as long as the rest of the sodding Scooby Gang was around.  He couldn't wait until they found out, and they would, sooner or later. The mess that shit would make when it went throttling
toward the fan appealed to him, and he calmed slightly with the hope that he wouldn't have to wait long to see it.

They would see soon enough.  She was his, he was hers, linked by something neither cared to control.

***

That little blonde witch had been of more use than expected.  She had brought the slayer into the equation.  Asmodeus arched an eyebrow at the thought that he might be able to kill two birds with one stone.  Literally.

A shadow blanketed the modest house, made by wings of ebony and the deepest red of hearts, infecting yet another with its inky, hazy fog of desire.

***

~Part Five~

***

The glass of water Cordelia had been holding slipped from her well-manicured hands and fell to the floor, shattering into thick, lethal shards as the searing pain seized hold of her mind.  She gasped and crumpled to the floor, fingers clawing blindly at her head until the stabbing of her skull subsided to more manageable levels.  Wesley rushed over to the fallen seer, cradling her awkwardly in his arms.  Angel was soon to follow the path the former watcher had taken.

"Cordy, what'd you see?"

The brunette took in air in the short, shallow hisses of pain, a panicked look darkening her hazel eyes.

"We're going back to Sunnydale."

***

"Found him!  I found him!" Xander exclaimed, leaping up from his seat on the couch where he had been sifting through some older-than-dirt mythology books. "All forms of praise will be accepted with quiet dignity and grace."

"Good show, Xander!" Giles nodded.

"Hey, you're lookin' at the Where's Waldo champion of Mrs. Land's second grade class, here.  Show a little respect."

"Quiet dignity and grace..." Anya muttered with a slight roll of her eyes.

The watcher didn't respond, consumed in the process of reading over the limited information on the demon. Spike paced around the room in the same fashion he had since Willow left the night before.  She had taken Buffy's advice and had gone to see a doctor about her sudden bout of sickness.  The vampire had been none too happy that she wouldn't be staying where he could keep close watch on her, but the pesky sunlight kept
him from going along.  He had done what he could to help research this Asmodeus fellow, mainly out of concern for Willow's well-being, and was none too happy that the bloody moron had been the one to come across the infamous texts.

"Spit it out, Rupert," he barked the order.  The sorcerer cast him a dirty look and began to translate the Latin in his head before speaking aloud.

"Asmodeus," Giles read in his sophisticated, proper English.  "The demon embodying lust; overseer of the gambling houses in hell.  Born of a mortal woman and a fallen angel.  As the demon of lust, he goes to great lengths to ensure that couples do not have sex and pushes them to take other lovers.  Inventor of carousels, music, dancing, drama.  Asmodeus is indeed one of the seven deadly sins, as close to tangible sin as one can get.  Also known as the demon of infidelity."

Xander spoke up.

"If he's lust incarnate, that would explain the tall, dark, and handsome stint."

"Wanker.  What does he want?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, Spike.  We'll just have to, ah, ask him the next time he pops in for a visit, I suppose."

"Bugger that.  How do you kill him?"

Giles narrowed his eyes.

"He's one of the original demons.  I don't think you can.  Not even Buffy could..." he trailed off, worry creasing his face.

"I don't care about Buffy."

The watcher was losing patience.  He took off his glasses and spoke with an edge as he polished them clean.

"Then what exactly do you care about, Spike?  Why the hell are you here with us right now, and why are you so damn interested in stopping this thing?"

"Yeah, Deadboy Jr....what's with the giving a shit all of a sudden?"

Spike stone-set his jaw defiantly, but could find nothing to say.  Instead, he just kept pacing a trench in the floor.

***

Angel shoved a change of clothes into a small duffle bag.  What the seer had envisioned unnerved him to no end, and he was in a rush to get down to Sunnydale as soon as possible.  He wasn't sure if the thought that the slayer would be there was driving him on or pushing him back into reluctance.  Either way, they could all be in trouble, and he wasn't about to lose any of them, different town or not.

He shivered as he remembered what Cordelia had told him.  A dead child, bleeding and broken, the minds of both her parents nothing more than two abysses, black and void of any feeling save for grief and sorrowful rage.  Wings, torn from whomever their owner had been, sitting off to the side in a heap of dark feathers and crimson liquid.  The formerly winged man's back appeared as well, hollow stumps still oozing from the light bones that protruded out from his flesh, as well as the large sign proclaiming "Welcome to Sunnydale!"

The dark vampire couldn't escape the feeling of dread and irony as a mental picture formed in his head of the death of a blackened angel.

***

"What do you think might happen?" Wesley questioned the beautiful seer who sat across from him at the table.

Cordelia shifted nervously in her chair, tapping the toe of her sandal against one of its legs.

"I don't know.  The visions are always so vague; just flashes of pain.  I'm scared, Wes...I mean, it's home."

Words failed the rogue demon hunter, and he could do nothing more than look worriedly at the girl, and then a bit awkward and surprised as she tentatively reached over to his side of the table to take his large hand into one of her soft, feminine ones.  After a few moments, he managed to find his voice.

"Don't worry Cordelia.  You know our whole family is protected, including our more distant "relatives." His lips quirked up into a sort of half-smile which she returned, but the feeling that his words were said in vain refused to leave them both.

***

Willow fidgeted uncomfortable on the cool, sterile examining table of the doctor's office.  She hated having to go, but the others had all insisted she at least get checked out.  Thus far, the visit had been awful:  Sitting in the waiting room for half an hour, getting weighed, a process she would have rather not known the results of, even as thin as she was, letting them take a blood sample, which didn't bother her much, but then they just had to cap it all off by making her pee in a cup!

With a long-winded sigh of boredom, misery, and the uncanny urge to escape by hurdling nurses and warding off security with various medical instruments, the redhead growled softly.

"Going to hurt them...was just a touch of food poisoning...don't need to be here...don't wanna be here..."  She continued to mutter, barely catching
herself right at "they can just go fu--" right as the doctor walked in.

"Well, Ms. Rosenberg, we've found nothing wrong with you, though there is a reason to come back in a few weeks for another check-up."

Willow's brows knitted together and a look of uncertainty plastered onto her face.

"What's the reason?"

"Congratulations; you're pregnant."

The doctor's smile widened, anticipating the girls reaction.  However, she received nothing more than a gape of shock and disbelief.

"B-but...how..." Willow stuttered, shaking her head.

"I take it this was unplanned?"

"It's impossible..."

"I hear things like that coming from girls your age all the time.  You really should--"

"No, you don't understand.  He's...sterile."

"Well," the doctor sighed, "it appears he hasn't been completely honest with you."  She gently patted at Willow's stomach.  "Because there's a baby in there. I'll need you to come back in two weeks for your first prenatal exam--you are keeping the baby?"

The witch nodded numbly.  She'd always known she could never give up a child if she ever had one.

But she wasn't supposed to be having one.  She was so young--she had a life to lead, friends to go out with during all hours of the night, college!  She couldn't take care of a child right now.  And Spike was a vampire, everything inside of him was dead, he couldn't possibly...and yet somehow he did.  Faced with so many questions with none of the answers to go with them, Willow suddenly felt the weight of the world was on her shoulders.  She did the only thing she could do right then.

She broke down and cried.

***

~Part Six~

***

Damn it, where the hell was she?

Spike had already smoked an entire pack of cigarettes and was about to start on the second, anxiously awaiting Willow's return. It was nearly dusk--no doctor's appointment was ever that long. So where, oh where, had his bloody witch gone?

"Gods, Spike, how many of those things have you smoked? There's practically a fog in here..." Giles muttered, swatting the smokey air with his hand as if to prove what he had said was true.

"Enough," Spike growled as he tapped the fresh pack on his knee to pack it. He glanced out the window, watching the last hints of sunlight drift down past the horizon. If she didn't get there soon, he'd go looking for her.

"Well, stop it. I don't fancy my home smelling of that rot."

"I don't fancy my home smelling of that rot," Spike mocked in a high-pitched voice. "Buggrit. 's not like you've never had one before."

"That's beside the point. No more."

The vampire muttered inaudible things under his breath and threw the pack against the wall. Sod it, why wouldn't she just get back already?

***

Willow had been wandering the streets aimlessly for what seemed like hours before deciding to return to Giles' and the rest of the Gang. She still wasn't sure how exactly to tell them, how to tell Spike...she supposed it would just come on its own. She was still far too dazed to think really clearly anyhow. Shoving everything aside felt good for once; the detachment was a comfort.

Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest as she took the first shaky steps up the front walk to Giles' door. She could feel her red, swollen eyes sting with fresh tears despite her efforts to stop them. After a moment of attempting to compose herself and only half-succeeding, Willow opened the door.

Spike was immediately at his feet as the redhead appeared in the threshold, restraining himself from running to her, even more so when he noted the tears streaming freely down her pink cheeks. Xander, Anya, Buffy, and Giles all stopped their conversations and looked expectantly up at the witch, concern and fear apparent on their faces. The silence ensued for what seemed an eternity, until she found it within her croaking voice to speak.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out barely above a whisper. Five sets of eyes widened, five mouths dropped open in shock. Spike started slowly, then
found his initiative and quickly left, brushing past her and out the front door, his boots giving off soft thuds that pounded betrayal into Willow's mind.

"Oh, my God...Wills..." the slayer murmured, coming over to embrace her best friend. "Who?"

The question raised only a fresh set of sobs from the redhead. When her breathing had slowed enough to form coherent speech, the tremor of a gasp she gave barely made it to Buffy's ears.

"Spike..."

The blonde suddenly stiffened and took a step back, releasing her friend.

"What did you say?"

"It's Spike's," Willow cried.

The slayer's face contorted in many levels of disgust, anger, and betrayal.

"Congratulations," Anya chimed, looking proud of her comment. Xander gave his girlfriend's hand a tight squeeze of reprimand, and the former demon rose and patted Willow on the shoulder hesitantly. "I mean...I...condole you," she said awkwardly, then quickly found her seat again on the couch. Willow's eyes never left her best friend.

"Buffy, no..." she pleaded, but the blonde only spun on her heel and headed for the door. She opened it and stepped out, only to be knocked back inside by something that wasn't supposed to be there.

"Buffy, sorry," Angel mumbled as he looked intensely at his former girlfriend. She said nothing and proceeded to push past him and run outside in the
direction opposite the one Spike took. The Irish vampire's eyes searched the remaining group worriedly. "What happened?"

"Willow's pregnant," Anya stated. Angel's dark eyes widened. He shook his head.

"Oh, no..." he murmured as the moment of realization hit him.

"Are you gonna run away, too?" Willow asked, her voice small, her eyes wide and panicked.

"No." His voice was firm.

A tense silence settled in the room. When it began to collect dust, Giles spoke up, breaking through the strain like it were nothing more than a cob- web.

"Ah, Angel, wh-what brings you here?"

The vampire stared at Willow, his dark gaze boring into her. She shivered.

"Cordelia had a vision."

***

"Spike?"

The English vampire pointedly ignored the voice calling out to him and took another drag off of his cigarette. He looked away as the warm body dropped down next to him.

"It's yours," she told him, and was answered with a snort of disbelief. "Wesley thinks he's figured part of it out, for whatever that's worth. I guess... not much. I can't believe this is all happening. It's so unreal, like it's happening to someone else and I'm just looking over their shoulder." She sighed, then continued. "Wesley said it had to be the demon. Born of a fallen angel and a mortal. Sound familiar? Why he would want to do this, I have no idea...."

"You're lying." The first words he spoke were laced with contempt and something resembling sadness, though she couldn't be sure.

"I'm not! Think about it: The things that have been going on with us, everything that we--"

"Then none of it's real. Everything. None of what we," he almost laughed, "what we had, ever existed in the first place."

"Damn it, Spike," Willow was growing impatient with the vampire. She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her still-flat stomach. "This is real! This exists! And it's ours!"

For the first time he looked up at her, warning in his eyes, and snatched his hand back. He couldn't trust something like this, and every instinct he had, both demon and human, always screamed at him to destroy what he could not trust. But his feelings for her prevented him from fully agreeing with his gut. His being was fear, shrouded by dismal anger.

"You've been whoring around on me. Got yourself knocked up, and now you're trying to get me to take the responsibility. I don't think so, pet. Being a daddy is not my cup of tea."

He wasn't even prepared for the sting of her palm across his cheek.

"You bastard! I've been trying to tell you--something's happened with us! Whatever this," she gestured to her middle, "is, we made it! Why do you think you were so hot? Have you even thought about that?"

He was silent.

"Spike, your demon comes to the fore to feed...Asmodeus made your human reveal itself so this could happen. Don't you see? For that one moment,
that one little fraction of time, you were human, what you once were."

"I am NOT human. I don't have anything to do with humanity."

She stared at him a long while, contemplating his words. Then, as if she had made a decision, she nodded.

"I'm beginning to see that."

With those final words, she stood and left him alone with his thoughts. Out of anger, out of pain and confusion, out of fear and something else he hadn't ever been able to truly touch, or maybe it was a simple act to prove that he was not truly dead, Spike smoldered the remains of the burning cigarette into his wrist, and reveled in the burn.

***

~I can't be the father.~

You are.

~No! She's lying! She cheated--~

The only one who's cheating anyone around here is you. She needs you right now. The child needs you.

~It's not mine.~

You really are stupid, aren't you? Everything she said just went in one ear and out the other, didn't it?

~Piss off. I'm smart enough to know that it's impossible for me to have kids. I'm a vampire. The walking dead. Shooting blanks.~

Under normal circumstances, yes. Under human circumstances--

~I'm not human!! Bugger, can anyone get that through their thick skulls?~

Likewise. Go to her.

~No.~

Fine. It's your choice. The only thing I can do is tell you which is the right one.

~...~

***

Buffy felt the presence of the witch before she even saw her. It was the kind of feeling that came after years of sharing platonic love with someone, being so close that what one felt, the other knew. Only this time, the slayer had detached herself from those emotions.

"Leave me alone."

"Buffy, please, just let me explain--"

"Explain what? That you've been sleeping with my mortal enemy behind my back? That your carrying his..." the blonde trailed off, unable to bring
herself to mouth the words. "When were planning on telling me?"

"I...I don't know."

"Heh. Nice to know all that talk about friendship was crap."

"It wasn't crap, Buffy! I just didn't know what to do about it. I still don't. Please, I really need you right now. You're my best friend."

"I was."

As Willow's heart sank down to her knees, she held back the tears that welled up in her eyes. She was sick of crying already. Crying didn't solve things; brains did. She was smart, capable. She could figure things out. She could make everything work. Couldn't she? She had to...she was the intelligent one...she could always think of a way out.

Always.

***

~Part 7~

***

"Buffy?"

"Angel."

"Can I sit down?"

"It's a free swingset."

He sat, rocking softly in time with her.

"Listen, Buffy, about Willow--"

"There's nothing to discuss about Willow."

"You've been ignoring her for days now. She doesn't deserve that."

"Angel, she slept with--"

"Spike. Yeah, I know. What's that got to do with anything?"

"...It should be me."

"What?"

"Not me with Spike. Trust me, he's the last person in the world I'd sleep with. It's just...it's not fair." Her voice was so quiet, he could scarcely hear her, even with his enhanced senses. "I hate it. All of it. I hate that she gets something I've longed for for the past three years running and she never even wanted it. I hate that I still think it should be us, not them. And I hate that...even after you being in L.A., even after Riley...I hate that I keep thinking like that. God, Angel, I hate that after all this time I still feel this way...it's like a piece of me will always be gone as long as you are, and no matter how hard I try, I can't fill it in. And it kills me. You kill me, because I can't help how I feel around you."

He remained silent. How could he respond to something like that? There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to be with her...and she was right. It wasn't fair.

"You know...you know I'd give up everything out of loving you." His statement was pained, tainted by the past that he remembered all too well, and she would never know of.

"Oh, Angel, I can't live like this. I can't be with--"

"I know..."

"No, you don't. I suddenly feel like I can't be with anyone but you. And it's horrible. I can't stop hurting without hurting someone else..."

"Riley."

She nodded. "I mean, I love him, I really do...but...he's not you. No one will ever be you."

"I know the feeling."

"Make it stop, Angel...just make all the hurt go away, please?"

The dark vampire rose from his swing and cradled his lost love in his arms as she cried.

***

file:///C|/mirc/Diary/WR6.27.00.txt

Dear Diary,

Things are awful. Both Spike and Buffy are avoiding me like the plague, Angel rarely lets me out of his sight, Giles and Wesley are practically neurotic with research, and Xander and Anya haven't been speaking to me. Cordelia's the only one who's been even remotely friendly to me for the past two days. Talk about irony.

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I always imagined that I'd be at least in my late twenties when I had kids, probably married to a good man like Oz or Riley's friend, Graham. I'd be the perfect working mom. Get up in the morning, make breakfast for the family, send the kids to school, maybe have something part-time that I enjoyed, like working in a florist's shop or something. I'd get home early, make a delicious, extravagant meal, send the kids to bed, and my husband and I would stay up until late, talking and making love. Things would be perfect.

Now I'm pregnant at nineteen, and by a vampire no less. I have no idea how I'm going to take care of this child, what I'm going to do about school, how to tell my parents...I can forget about family meals; my "husband" wouldn't even eat them. What would I do, innovate a new cookbook? 501 Bloody Gourmets? Yeah, right. He won't even look at me...

I've never been so scared in my entire life. I've been helping to fight the forces of evil since I was sixteen years old, and nothing, not giant snakes, not demon/human/cyborg Frankensteins, nothing has ever made me more afraid than the prospect of becoming a mom. Sometimes I wish I could just run away and leave everything behind, my body included...

Giles's looming over my shoulder again. Must be gone. Who knows what else will turn up tonight.

Until next crisis,

Willow

***

As I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

The room was blown awry in a twister of emotions, right and wrong, passion and restraint, need and want and desire. The union had been far too long in coming, and the sacrifice of contentment was made for the undaunted lust that had been stirring in them both since either could remember. With the slayer and the vampire's coupling, things were nearly complete. But a single step left, and the aftermath of a sinful love would begin.

***

Angel was aching by the time he collapsed in exhaustion onto his lover. Such heat; the sweat rolled off him like liquid desire that had previously
consumed him with such raw power he was helpless to stop it. Everything they had ever decided on, how they should keep their distance, why they couldn't be together, all of it flew out the window so fast. But where happiness might have been in him, it was replaced with confusion, fear, and severe disorientation from the intensity of what they had both just experienced. His soul was safely locked away for now, and he hoped like hell that the key had been lost somewhere deep within his psyche.

"I can't believe we just..."

"Shhh. Don't talk now. Don't think. Just...stay."

***

Spike took another long swig from the whiskey bottle his clutched in his hand. The surging heat did nothing to relieve whatever he was feeling. It only reminded him of what they'd...

Damn it, no! He wasn't going to think about that. He just need to think about...about something! Something else. He flopped down on his back in the cool grass and stared up at the midnight sky. The stars. That was something he could think about. He could figure out the constellations; Orion, the Big Dipper, Aries...Aries was Willow's sign.

With a deep sigh, he climbed unsteadily to his feet and continued to look upward. Dru used to talk to the stars. Hell, maybe the old bitch was on to something. And besides, he was drunk. What other dignity did he have to lose? Other than going after--grrr. No.

"Okay, I give up," he declared, shrugging at the stars, who blinked in return. "What the bloody hell am I supposed to do, hmm? Go crawling back like a little nancy boy poof? Huh? Ignore what I am and be the little frou-frou daddy she wants me to be? Well?! What are you waiting for? Answer me! And don't think I'm gonna say it, 'cause there's no way." Silence still, and he began to grow impatient. "All right, fine, you win. I love her. You hear that? I. Love. Willow. I love her! Oh, for Lucifer's sake, what the hell am I doing..."

"Sounded pretty good to me."

He spun around, doing a double-take at the stars before looking at the person who stood in front of him.

"Well, I...er..." he fumbled around with his words, slurring awkwardly and drunkenly. "I made it up m'self."

She giggled.

"What are you doing out here, love? It's dangerous. Bad things lurking and all that bollocks."

"I dunno...lurky bad things have kinda grown on me lately."

"Have they?"

"Yes. A lot, actually." She took a step towards him. "You might even say," another step, "that I've realized something about them that I never thought could happen." Face to face now, and almost physically shaking with nervousness. "I think that...I might love them. Do you think I'm crazy?"

He pulled her close and rested a hand on her belly, marveling for a second at the feelings that coursed through him.

"Probably. But you know love; it's rarely if ever sane."

"You think?"

"I'm sure of it."

He lowered his head and brushed his lips lightly against her own, then pulled back to stare into eyes as green as spring leaf buds on a willow tree, before kissing her again, tenderly, gently, and thankfully, while the stars looked on at the pair illuminated by the moonlight under the delicate shadows of the night.

***

"You sure about this?"

"I have to talk to Buffy alone.  With you there she won't even acknowledge me."

"Long as you'll be okay."

"I will.  Buffy will come around, she'll understand. I'm sure of it."

***

"I won't accept this!" Buffy stormed, her temper completely blown to smitherines.  The conversation she had agreed to have with Willow--which happened only after much pleading from Angel--had turned into a scream-fest.  Both girls were starting to be loud enough to cause actual physical harm with their voices.

"Well that's just too damned bad!  And what are you so angry about, anyway?!  You have Angel back, Riley's kicked to the curb like an unwanted puppy, and you still find reason to bitch at me!  You're a bitch, Buffy!  Yes, a back-stabbing, lying, cheating, little dog!"

"Don't you even call me back-stabbing--I didn't sleep with underworld enemy number one.  You lied--you never said one goddamn word about--"

"Not saying anything isn't the same thing as lying."

"Semantics.  You cheated on Tara--"

"It.  Wasn't.  My.  Fault.  The demon--"

"The demon hasn't been seen for days now.  For all we know he could have flown the coup!"

"Bullshit, Buffy!  You know that's bullshit!  How long did we go without seeing Adam, hm?"

"That's not the point.  You have been having a relationship with one of my fiercest enemies behind my back."

"If he's such a threat, then why the hell are you helping to keep him alive?"

Buffy was silent for a moment, then she nodded, an ironic smile on her lips.  "You're right.  You're absolutely right.  Why am I keeping him alive?  I
should just go kill him right now.  In fact, I think I'll do that."  The slayer practically ran out of the dorms, Willow tagging closely behind.

"Buffy--no!  Don't!"

The redhead's pleas were left unheard as Buffy sped up, knowing that with her enhanced abilities she would be able to outrun Willow quickly through both speed and endurance.  Knowing this, the witch stopped and spun around, trying to decide which way would be faster.  She took off heading west, in the direction of Angel's old home.

***

Spike barely had time to blink as the door came crashing down and a long crack twisted through its center.  His eyes fell upon who caused it ruin and he growled low in his throat.

"What the fuck do you want?" he demanded, unwavered by her offensive stance.

"Your heart on a stake displayed in my room," she answered, then lunged for him.

***

"Angel!  Angel!"

The dark vampire was out of his dusty old bed in half a second at the young witch's cries.  He strode over to her in two steps.

"Willow, what is it, what's wrong?" he asked, regarding the tears that streamed freely down her cheeks.  Willow tried to catch her breath as she
choked out the words.

"Buffy...Spike...she's gonna kill him, please hurry!"

Without another word, he and the redhead left for Spike's crypt.

***

Spike growled as the searing pain burned through his skull as he tried to defend himself against the slayer.  He dodged, blocked, but could never send out a kick or a punch that didn't send him crippled to the floor.  She flew at him, ramming the tip of a steel-toed boot into his ribs.  He roared and stared at her with utter and total hate, knowing that she was intent on making him suffer before she finally plunged the chunk of wood into his unbeating heart.

Buffy let loose with a snarl of her own and drove a heel into Spike's temple, then grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back until she heard the
nauseating pop of the elbow joint being separated. Grinding one of his hands beneath her boot, she yanked his head up by his hair and stared at him, her gaze made of ice.

"You will never touch any of us again," she promised over the crunching bones of his fingers.

"Fuck you," he spat, blood lightly spraying from his swollen lips.  He saw red, but the crimson color only grew deep to black as she slammed his head against the concrete floor of the crypt.

Buffy held the stake in her hand with a white-knuckled grip and rolled the unconscious vampire over onto his back.  She didn't even have to aim to know where the heart was.

"Buffy, no!"

Angel's voice cut through her ears just as she was about to plunge the stake down.  She didn't turn her head to look at him as she spoke, "Get out of here."

"Don't kill him," Angel cautioned, taking slow, careful steps towards he reclaimed love.  "If you kill him, you kill her too."

Buffy didn't say anything, only stood frozen and shaking with tension.

Angel continued, "Buffy, please...without him she'll have no one.  Willow doesn't deserve that, you know that.  Please...just give me the stake."

Willow reached the destroyed doorway and gasped as her eyes rested on Spike's unmoving, battered form.  She wanted more than anything to go to him, but then her eyes found the stake not a foot from his heart and Buffy debating whether or not to shove it in.

"Buffy, please..." Angel begged, lowering himself to his knees next to the slayer.  The blonde's lip quivered as she fought back tears.  With a sudden jerk from her icy posture, she screamed and threw the stake against the wall, then turn to wildly punch at Angel's chest.  He caught her by the wrists and held her close as she sobbed.  Willow wasted no time in running to Spike, who was beginning to stir.  He groaned and attempted to move, only to find himself paralyzed.

Willow felt sick as her eyes roamed over his body. Most of his face was bruised, purple, swollen and caked with dried blood.  His right arm was bent at an grotesque, unnatural angle, and from his lack of a shirt she clearly saw that a few of his ribs were indented and black and blue as well.

Carefully, she brushed a lock of hair out of his face and ran her handle gently over the vampirical ridges that were still there.

"Willow..." he whispered, his eyes nearly swollen shut and tilted toward the ceiling.

"Shhh," she soothed him.  "Don't speak."

"I can't see you...I can't see anything..."

Willow choked back a sob.  She knew that he would heal of everything eventually, but to see him in such pain right then...

"It'll be okay, Spike.  It'll all be okay, I promise."

The four then sat in relative silence, the only sounds being made were those of quiet sobs and pain.
 

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