Post Obitum (or: Do the Time Warp!)

AUTHOR: Quicksilvermad

SUMMARY: One small event needs changing in the past--lest the future of earth be no more.  Basically, it's a normal day for Spike.

RATING: R for imagery, violence, and minor language.  More the imagery and violence—but later on.

PAIRING:  W/S, S/Ay friendship, X/Ay, B/R

SPOILERS:  Harsh Light of Day, Wild at Heart, Initiative, Pangs, Something Blue--random season five stuff.  This doesn't follow season six or seven.  Especially since I hate the whole B/S angle, and I preferred it didn't exist.  So that's how I wrote this.

DISCLAIMER:  Joss owns them, not me.  If I owned them, there would be no cruelty against Spike.  Oh yeah, there's a reference to 'Fight Club' in here, and I don't own that either.  Let's just say that if you see something familiar in here, I don't own it.  Like Post-It notes and 'Law & Order.'

DISTRIBUTION:  Breathe, Redsoulmates, and anyone who asks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 

~Part: 1~

 The year was 3118.  It wasn't that the singular fact that it was the year 3118 was most especially important--it was the fact that this was the last year earth would exist.  Which, in a term that died out when fossil fuels did, sucked.  And sitting there, in his immaculate black suit coupled with a silvery vest and red tie, Spike let the banality of the situation wash over him--trimmed brown hair and all.  This was old hat to him.  The other delegates of the world didn't quite agree.  In fact, they were in a bit of an uproar.

 "Madame President, surely you can't be suggesting...time travel!?" one representative from Russia spat out.  He didn't look any happier than the rest--the quills around his jaw were quivering with outrage.

 With more than a little aloofness, Spike brought his foot up and rested it upon his opposite knee.  His fellow English delegate (the human one--each country was represented by one human and one demon) looked at him warily.

 "It's the only way.  American scientists have pinpointed the origin of the anomaly, and we believe we can fix it," the President continued.  Spike picked lint off the cuff of his pant leg.

 "But 'time travel?!'" said a human from Canada.  Spike wondered if flannel was considered proper formal dress for a delegate meeting.  He didn't think so.

 "If you'd hear us out..." said the demon that sat beside the President.  Spike's eyes finally shot up and glued themselves on her.  Yep, Anya hadn't changed a bit.  Well, except her hair.  But that changed every two months. "Then perhaps you'd understand.  Master Merriday, perhaps you could explain.  You were there as well as I."

 Spike tried to hide the visible wince that came with hearing his human surname, but he stood fluidly nonetheless.  "It would be wise to follow the United States' decision, yes.  It's quite a simple mistake to correct--"

 "Then you go!" shouted a random delegate.  Spike pinpointed the voice and glared hatefully at the weasel-y Australian, a bit of gold flaring against the blue in his eyes for a second.  The Aussie shied appropriately.

 "Actually," Anyanka began, now standing, "that is a prudent suggestion.  Master Merriday knows the perpetrator quite well.  As do I."

 "It's settled, then?" asked the President.  "Do I have a motion to put this plan into effect?"

 The 'ayes' were thunderous to Spike's preternatural senses.

 "And those opposed?" asked the moderator

 He heard three 'nays.'

 "Then the 'ayes' have it.  Do I have a motion to conclude this meeting?" he asked.  His answer was unanimously 'aye.'  "And is that motion seconded?"

 "Aye," said the Chinese delegates.  The moderator dropped his gavel and it hit the block on the podium with a resounding crack that echoed throughout the gigantic room.  "Very well, meeting is adjourned."

 Around the room, people stood and exited with a fair amount of discussion between them.  Spike scowled and ignored the English delegate's request for dinner.  With the anger that he was feeling now, he didn't trust himself not to take a bite out of her long neck.  Instead, he approached Anya and the President.

 "Anyanka, I swear to God--"

 "Come on, Spike.  You know we're the only ones who can stop this!"

 "What if it isn't supposed to be stopped this time?  Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the time for earth is up?  And besides, what the bloody hell is with this 'we' stuff anyhow?" he fumed.  Anya simply smiled.

 "Spike, no one knows when the world is going to end.  When there's a warning like this that means it should be stopped.  And the 'we' stuff?  You know I love you."

 He poked her in the arm.  "Don't pull that with me, little girl," he said--with the tiniest bit of a growl thrown in.

 "Master Merriday," the President interrupted, "there's no room for argument.  We'll have a transport come around and pick you up tomorrow morning at nine," she held up a hand to forestall his angry protestations.  "You have no choice.  I'll even throw in breakfast."

 "Ha, bloody, ha," Spike said.  Absently, at the sound of the word 'morning,' he twisted the Gem of Amara around his ring finger.

 Anya smiled at him again.  "Go home and get some rest.  We have a long trip ahead of us."

 They both turned and left him there, standing in the middle of the chamber with a torn look on his face.  After a moment of still silence, he turned and exited the building in equal silence, hailed a cab without making a sound, and uttered not a peep on the way back to his empty...quiet...mansion.

 Silence, now, was overrated.

~Part: 2~

It was a routine now—to come home from a boring day at work (which consisted of sitting behind a huge desk listening to the complaints and praises of the demon population in the greater London area, then eating lunch, then going back behind the desk and repeating the procedure with the lesser towns, cities, villages, and suburbs of the UK), stare blankly at a state-of-the-art holographic television and it's recycled programs ('Comrades' was the regurgitated form of 'Friends,' Dick Clark still hosted the New Year's celebration, and somehow 'Law & Order' was still on), eat a freshly donated dinner, and then stare blankly at his ceiling as he fruitlessly tried to fall asleep.

Truly, Spike hadn't slept in ten years.

So there he lay, in a cocoon of white satin with a red canopy looming overhead.He'd already counted the vertical stitches in this canopy (ah, the wonders of vampire sight), and he felt like saving the horizontal for later. Time ticked by so slowly that if it seemed as if it was caught in a flood of molasses--thickening on top until it all just congealed and stopped. Spike felt that way often--that time had stopped. Perhaps it had something to do with his lack of the need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.Perhaps old age was finally catching up to him.Perhaps he was hallucinating.He didn't know.

Spike blinked the feeling away and twisted in his empty bed, ignoring the way the covers tangled around him.He hated being alone.Loneliness and silence--they were the two things that were really starting to grate away at his already-frayed nerve endings.Essentially, insomnia brought this on.Not being able to sleep gave him too much time to think.

"I'm in pain," he mumbled. Sod, how long ago was that?1999?I just remembered a line from a movie in 1999, but I can't remember what my sister looked like? He laughed then, bitterly. I just need to find some testicular cancer support group thing and go have a good cry.And hug a man named Bob.Maybe I'll feel better about myself then.

By this time, he'd broken the alarm clock he'd been clenching in his hands.He hadn't even noticed that he'd grabbed it, but just before the holographic display winked out with a pitiful whine, he saw the time. 8:45 AM

"Sod," Spike grumbled and stepped out of bed--suddenly greeted by a smiling vengeance demon."You're early," he stated, not caring that he was naked in front of Anya.It wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, anyways.

"So, I like to surprise people," she said, raising one eyebrow as he bent down to grab a pair of clean pants.Even though he had automated closets and everything, he still threw all of his clothes on the floor.Men.

"Stop gawking.Why are you early--really?" he zipped his fly and worked at his belt without looking at it. God, I want a cigarette, was the first random thought of the day.Too bad smoking was banned in 2135.

Anya sighed and sat down on his rumpled bed, picking at a loose thread."To tell the truth, I'm not sure if you're up to it."

"Of course I'm up to it.I've got nothing to do now, and I kinda miss the good ole days," Spike grabbed a random shirt and quickly buttoned it up and tucked it into his pants.

"I meant seeing her again.You've seen her die, Spike.It's kind of a hard thing to do--going back in time to see someone you care for--all vibrant and alive."

He had paused in his preparations to listen, and now looked at Anya's saddened face."You're not just talking about her, I can tell."

"Of course not.I'm talking about Xander, too.I mean, when we go back, we'll literally be replacing our past selves.They won't exist anymore," she frowned and traced a design on his pillowcase with her index finger."I'm not sure how it works, but that's what I've been told.We can't come back to this."

Spike had been holding a wristwatch, but as soon as Anya said this, he smashed it against the hardwood floor.She jumped at the unexpected action and gazed at his furious form with wide eyes."And why the bloody hell should we want to?!It's bleak and lonely and no one we knew is alive or even un-alive right now!I lost my sire and grand-sire in this time--both went stark raving crackers and went for walks in the sun while I pranced around with this ruddy ring on my finger!My only human friends died in old-folks homes with only a vampire to keep them company.Do you have any idea how much it hurt to see those two age and whither away while I stayed like this?" Spike jabbed a finger at his own face and came close to poking himself in the eye, but he didn't notice.

"I outlived those who I wasn't supposed to, and I have nothing anymore.I want to go back.I hate this world.If we change this one thing, then maybe I can keep from...from..."

"From drowning in the loneliness?" Anya whispered, scooting a pair of his shoes out from under his bed with her toes and wringing her hands together.

"Yes," he said and silently accepted the shoes.He remembered socks just before he shoved his bare feet in them and actually retrieved a pair from his dresser."What day, exactly, are we going back to?"

Anya brightened at the change in moods.Spike didn't sound so depressed now."Just before Thanksgiving."

"Pre or Post Initiative kidnapping?"

"Pre.The Council didn't want you to have to go through the whole chip thing again, so you can avoid being caught this time."

Spike nodded and then put his shoes on over his socked feet."Is it time?" he asked.

"Yep.Sorry, I don't have breakfast for you, by the way.We'll reach DC in about thirty minutes by pod.I'll go over things in more depth on the way.What you and I have to do, that is," Anya scooted off of Spike's bed and watched him gather up a few things to bring with him (including his suit jacket, hat, and sunglasses) before she grabbed him by the elbow and forced him into the old-fashioned stairwell.His mansion was one of few that still had stairs in it.The human and demon servants hated them.The robots could have cared less.

"When will you be coming back, Master William?" the gardener asked as both demons passed him.In the late-morning sun, his dark brown skin was still tinted a bit green--the after-effect of consuming what he weeded.He was already sweating sap in the heat, as well.

"Probably never, Thomas.Have fun while you can," Spike said, squinting and sliding his sunglasses on as he and Anya climbed into the transport pod.Thomas grinned toothily, showing off his mouth filled with only molars, and waved goodbye as they took off.Inside, Spike tilted his hat so that the brim blocked his view of the scenery that was beginning to whiz past.

"Have I mentioned that I hate these things?" Spike asked Anya as he tried to settle his stomach as the contraption lurched into high speed.Anya just laughed.

*

President Marks was gearing herself up for a persuasive speech in case William Merriday backed out.She tried to concentrate on what to tell him, but her mind kept wandering back to his name.Merriday...Merry and day.What a crappy name for a vampire.No wonder he always winces in the Council meetings.

"President Marks, we're here," Anyanka announced as she waltzed gracefully into the Oval Office.She had that vacant look on her face again--the one that was usually present after reliving part of her 'glory' days.To quote her, "being a nice demon sucked."She must have been discussing just that on the ride across the Atlantic.

"Greetings, Anyanka, Master...William."

He visibly relaxed as he heard this.

"I'll cut right to the chase," she stood from behind her huge desk and headed for the door that led to the main corridor."If you'll follow me."

They did (secret service men in tow), and walked with brisk paces to match her long-legged gait.Spike had an easier time catching up with her, and Anya let out a frustrated growl followed by: "why can't I just float there?"

They speed walked all the way down to the basement and followed President Lydia Marks into a hermetically sealed room that was full to the brim with technological mumbo-jumbo that Spike was familiar with and Anya wasn't.Which was surprising considering: Miss I-am-an-American-and-citizen-of-the-times-I-also-own-a-Dell -computer-and-lots-of-other-hi-tech-stuff" was supposed to know more about that kind of stuff than him.Well, when you have insomnia, you tinker.And when you tinker, you discover.And when you discover...well...you ask Willow what the hell that window means and she teaches you how to hack.And so Spike already knew what time machine looked like and what all the silly little knobs and whistles meant.Thus, he wasn't impressed and Anya was.

"Wow.This is impressive," said Anya.

"Right.Just sign these forms and you'll both be on your way back to the year 2000," President Marks shoved two identical sheets of paper/plastic composites into their hands, and Anya signed immediately.Lydia didn't expect Spike to do the same, and therefore launched into her speech automatically.

"Master William," the President began, "this is the only way to stop what's about to happen.It's what our researchers have deemed an 'Un-natural Apocalypse.'It's imperative that both of you return to the past to get this done."

Spike raised an eyebrow, looked at his signed waver, and handed it to Marks."So...Sit in the chair, strap in, ignore the sudden loss of feeling in my stomach and hang on for a rough landing, eh?"

"That's about it," a nearly invisible scientist said.

"Sounds like a pod ride, huh, Spike?" Anya grinned.Spike grinned back, but with much less humor.Nevertheless, they both climbed in separate contraptions, strapped in, and waited.

"Good luck," were the last words from President Lydia Marks as the technicians counted down.When they reached 'one,' both Anya and Spike lost feeling in their stomachs.

*

A bright flash of light enveloped Restview Cemetery at approximately 12 AM, and two bodies hit the ground with cries of uneven pain.The male body had landed stomach-first on a tombstone, and the female tumbled on top of him.The sound of cracking ribs was drowned out by his cries of pain, and she reached around to grab his open mouth and shush him.

"Shut up!You want those commando idiots to hear you?!"

Thankfully, her hand muffled a rather blush-worthy curse.

"Okay.It's late, right?"

Nod.

"Then the gang may be on patrol.So...go to your crypt and wait for me tomorrow morning.I need to go find Xander."

Spike nodded again, and Anya slowly climbed off of him.

"Need help getting there?" she asked.

Spike gave an unnecessary gasp."Yeah...Just gimme a little blood and--"

"Huh-uh.If Harmony is in your crypt, drain her.I don't think either of us want Xander asking questions," Anya slapped his outreaching hand and clucked her tongue.That was something she'd learned from Giles.Grumbling, Spike stood from his prone position and held out his left hand.His hat dangled in his right

"Good luck," he said.

Anya took his hand and shook, feeling slightly odd using her non-dominant hand."Good luck," she replied.With one last look, they parted ways.

~Part: 3~

"Blondie Bear!" a bundle of frizzy blonde hair and skanky clothes shot out from behind the bier that stood in the center of the crypt and hit Spike directly in his aching chest."Where were you?!My God...look at what you're wearing!That's so sexy!" Harmony cried.

Without preamble, Spike dropped his hat, wrenched her neck to the side, bit down, and drained.She'd fed recently, so the blood was slightly warm.At least it was some form of food--he'd been so used to bagging it that the sensation of biting into a relatively heated neck was ecstasy.Harmony gave a pleased whimper that turned painful as he bit harder.

"Spikey..." she gurgled."T-that...you...OW!H-hey!"

Her knees buckled, and black spots danced before her wide-open golden eyes."S-stop," Harmony pleaded, begged, anything to get him to stop.This was way more painful than the others that he had inflicted upon her earlier in their (finger quotes) "relationship."The agony lasted for a few more minutes until she could feel his jaw muscles working at getting that last bit of blood from her flesh, and then everything just ended.Spike stepped away from the cloud of ash that exploded around him and idly wiped at the corners of his mouth.Thankfully, he had gotten away from the aftermath of his ravenous hunger fast enough that he didn't get any dust on the velvet shirt he was wearing.

"Best thing she ever did for me," he muttered.Just to keep both as wrinkle free as he could, Spike unbuttoned his jacket and his shirt, climbed down into the lower level of the crypt, and tossed them both over the bed.It wasn't like he'd be able to sleep anyway.

"Cozy," he mused to himself before grabbing a nearby axe and giving it a practice swing.He ignored the shooting pain in his ribs."Might as well brush up on my fighting skills...and stop talking to myself."

A defenseless chair was splintered in half.

*

Anya was almost giggling with happiness.There she was, walking hand-in-hand with her Xander.Her healthy, manly, construction-worker Xander.

Xander was certainly bemused by her good mood."You okay, Ahn?You're not going to float away on me, are you?"

Aiming a stunning smile at him, Anya shook her head."No, I won't float away.I'm staying right here with you."

Xander smiled back.

"So," Anya decided to bring herself back to what her mission was, "how's Willow doing?"

Xander sighed, turned his gaze to his feet, and kicked a rock."I haven't seen her in a couple of days.What Oz did was stupid...I'm worried about her--n-not that you're not--"

"I'm worried about her too," Anya interrupted.Xander gave her a look that clearly stated: 'that's unexpected' and tightened his grip on her hand.

"Should we turn back and go see her?" he asked.

"Not now.It's getting to be 'that hour,' and Buffy should be done with patrol.We should call."

"Right.Are you staying over again?"

"Sure."

*

There was something digging into his back.That was all Spike registered as his eyes drifted open and stared up at the blank ceiling.

"Wait a minute..." he grunted, sitting up.

"Welcome to the year 2000!" he was greeted."Glad to see you got some sleep," Anya peered at his surroundings."What the hell were you doing anyway?"

"I slept?" Spike asked."A-and what are you doing here?Shouldn't you be over at Xapper's?"

Anya held her hand out for him to use as leverage to get off of the floor, and he took it."Not only did you sleep, but you slept in a pile of wood.That's not too good for your health, Spike.It's daytime now, and I told Xander I was on my way to work, and why did you answer my question with more questions?"

"I slept..." he repeated.

"Fine.You slept.What were you doing?" Anya asked, brushing splinters off of his back at the same time."Whatever it was, I hope you're not going suicidal on me.Oh, wait.That ring thing--you're safe.But what were you doing anyway?"

Spike plopped down on the edge of his bed and gave a mighty yawn."I was breaking things."

She raised an eyebrow at him."Why?"

He scratched his head and completely mussed his dark brown hair up."I felt like it?"

 Shrugging, Anya handed him his wrinkle free shirt and suit jacket and made a 'put them on' gesture."Well, Angel has the first ring--I called him this morning and told him not to destroy it.And, Willow's going to be in her dorm room tonight.Alone.Buffy is going on patrol and meeting Riley.They're still in the ‘it’s-great-having-a-normal-boyfirend/girlfriend’ stage," she took a breath."So..."

"Go see her tonight?" Spike asked, not bothering to button the shirt.

"Or earlier.Just remember--you have to get her out of this funk before Thanksgiving is over," Anya waggled a finger in his face."And I stocked your new apartment with blood, so you can move in today.Bank account numbers are on the fridge."

Spike watched her head for the ladder and called out, "Thanks, Anya."

She looked back briefly."No problem.See you soon!"

She was gone.Spike buttoned his shirt and looked about the room.He was going to need a bag.

*

Spike had no idea how Anya had found the apartment in one night.He had to credit her, though.She did have impressive taste.She had the apartment furnished in simple colors- black, white, and blue- and seemed to think he liked mist showers (considering the settings on the shower).Well...she was right.

Spike explored a bit and catalogued everything in his head.One love seat (blue, huge, and so soft you sank when you sat in it), one black wrought iron coffee table with a glass top, one full bookcase, one big screen TV with DVD and VHS capabilities, one desk with a Dell computer stacked on it, and one brick fireplace with a mantle that had a painting above it.At closer inspection, Spike realized that the painting was his own work that he'd lost in the sudden exodus from Prague. Back then, it was the only sunset he could look at without frying.

Kicking his shoes and socks off and digging his toes as deeply as he could in the plush white carpet, Spike walked toward the kitchen.There was a black fridge, stainless steel sink, pot rack, microwave, one of those ovens that had a smooth surface with integrated heating elements, a toaster...He rummaged through the fridge and pantry and was pleased with the mixture of human and demon foods he found--and the bank account number on the fridge door that was mixed among the magnetic poetry.

"'Like a drunk and delirious man did he stare at the vision of a goddess before him.'Anya, you have such a way with magnets."

He grabbed a pint bag of blood from inside and guzzled it down without heating it up.He was too hungry to care.When he finished, Spike threw the bag away in a stainless steel waste receptacle and wandered into the main bedroom. The bed itself was queen sized--also wrought iron--and covered in blue and white sheets with about fifteen different colors of blue among the fifteen pillows piled on top.Next to the bed was one night stand (it looked like the companion piece to the coffee table) with an Ikea lamp and one book perched on it.He peered at the title.

"The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde..." he chuckled and quoted: "'Miss Fairfax, ever since I met you I have admired you more than any girl... I have ever met since... I met you.'"

Ignoring the full closets, Spike headed into the bathroom and grinned.Marble sink, blue-tiled shower/ bath combination with (look at that!)whirlpool jets...Just how much was all of this costing him?He started running bath water and decided he didn't care.

*

Willow stared at the ceiling of her dorm room and sniffled delicately.She was past all the violent, snotty sobbing sniffles and onto the recovering ones.The ones that made her sick of crying.When crying, you just get to this point where you are annoyed with crying and all of the hitches in breathing that came along with it and would do anything for it to stop. Willow was well past that point.

"Feeling any better?"

Startled, she sat up on her bed and wiped at her eyes.Mascara smudged across her sleeve and left inky trails below her eyes."A little.Buffy, I know you need to go patrol, so don't let me keep you.I'll just...I'll just take all of his pictures down and burn his eyes out with incense sticks."

At this, Buffy laughed.She had no idea that Willow was just saying it for the sake of saying it and getting the Slayer to leave so she could start crying all over again.Damn tears.

"Well...okay.Since you say so, I'll get a head start on saving Sunnydale's oblivious populous from the evils of the undead."

"English class is doing you some good," Willow muttered as her blonde friend left the room and quietly closed the door behind herself. Willow turned on the radio, slumped back against her mattress, and almost physically hurt herself as she tried to hold back those annoying sobs.

*

Spike nearly died a second time as he held back his laughter.The Slayer had walked right past him without even a twitch of wonder as to why her 'spidey-sense' was tingling. Daft bitch.He kept walking through the streets for a while until it all rushed back to him and he laughed out loud in front of Stevenson Hall.Several people stared.

Shrugging off his mirth, Spike returned to the task at hand and trekked up a flight of stairs found room 214 and knocked lightly on the door.Through the thick, pressed wood, he heard two words that he had a feeling Willow would soon regret.

"Come in."

He felt detached as he turned the doorknob--like this was too similar to the way it happened last time.Though he wore different clothing and his hair didn't feel as weighted down, it was a powerful feeling of déjà vu that caused Spike to pause in the doorway.

"Who is it?" Willow sniffled, and through the crack of the door, Spike saw her take a harsh swipe at her eyes.

"Now or never..." he mumbled to himself before finally entering the room and shutting the door quietly behind himself.He didn't turn the lock this time."Hello, gorgeous," Spike greeted.

Willow looked confused for a second, not knowing who he was at first but recognizing his voice.Dawning came upon her, and those bloodshot, green eyes widened in shock.She was off the bed and sprinting to get past him in less than a second.

If not for an Armani-clad arm blocking her way, she would have made it.

"Now, now, now.Don't go rushing off to warn Slutty.I already passed her in the hallway," Spike shook his head and moved his hand to grip her wrist. Willow struggled a bit, and he gently increased the pressure."Don't make me pinch, Willow."

She stopped and looked him in the eye with impossibly wider eyes."Y-you...?"

"Yes, I know your name.Have a seat," Spike guided her away from the door and gave her a little push in the direction of her bed.

Mid hop, she asked him, "Why are you here?I-is it another spell?"

"Heavens, no," Spike sat down next to her, unbuttoning his suit jacket at the same time."Plus, it is a very bad idea to cast when your emotions aren't centered.If I were you, I'd wait a couple months before doing any magic."

Willow frowned."How did you know my emotions weren't--" she paused and looked at the mascara smeared on her hands."Never mind.Then I ask you again, why are you here?S-shouldn't you be with Drusilla right now?"

"What, while she snogs a fungus demon?I don't think so, Red.I'm here because...well..." he paused, ran his fingers through his short brown hair."I heard that you could use some help."

He hadn't thought her eyes could get any bigger, but they did.But, for a brief moment, Spike wondered if her eyeballs would pop out if her lids opened any further."I could use some help?" she repeated.

"With your spells.I do know a thing or two about--"

"Okay, stop pulling my leg.It grows tiring after about three minutes."

Spike smirked.

"Love, if I was pulling your leg, you wouldn't be sitting still."

It took her a second before the blush settled in for the winter.Spike's smirk widened into a smile, and Willow stared at the dimples in his cheeks."Look, here's my address," he reached across her and grabbed a Post-It note and a pen and started writing."I'll be there most of the time, and I can help you.If you want to tell the Slayer I'm here, then go ahead.I don't care."

He peeled the yellow sheet off of the pad and stuck it to her thigh--receiving a surprised jerk from her.

"So...you know a thing or two about what?" she asked.

"Magic.I didn't restore my sire's health with Penicillin."

"O-oh," Willow looked down again."Wait, your sire?Dru's not your sire."

Spike was about to refute her, but a noise outside the door made him pause.Commandoes."Sod," he said and stood abruptly and turned all of the lights off. Willow stood as well, backing against her desk and knocking over a cup full of pencils the door shook as someone heaved a battering ram against the lock.

"Get back."

Willow crouched further into her room and she watched him.She screamed when the door splintered away, and smoke poured in.Spike hit the light switch, and men with night-vision goggles wailed as the light flared against their retinas.In the confusion, Spike vanished.Literally.All that was left of any evidence of him being in Willow's room was the Post-It note on her pant leg.

"Where'd he go?!" one of the commandoes screamed.His goggles were pushed up onto his forehead, and he was doing some serious rubbing on his eyes.His very familiar eyes.

Willow stood, hid the Post-It note, and looked at the black-clad figure with supreme incredulity."Riley?!"

And then Buffy came back.
 

 As she ascended the steps to the apartment number written in flowing handwriting on the piece of sticky yellow paper, Willow realized the foolishness in her venture.

 "I'm about to enter the lair of a Master vampire who tried to kill my best friend several times; with only a stake to protect myself," Willow shook her head.  "I must be suicidal."

 She made another revelation then.

 "And I'm talking to myself.  First two signs of insanity: willingly walking into the spider's web, and talking to myself."

 Shaking her head again, Willow knocked on the plain white door and considered pulling a C3PO.  In her head, she imagined herself saying to no one in particular: "There doesn't seem to be anyone here! Let's go back and tell Master Luke."

 But of course, her feet remained planted and her hand knocked again after two minutes of silence.  She turned to leave, but the door opened.

 Well...he wasn't wearing the suit jacket anymore that was for sure.

 "So soon?" Spike raised one eyebrow at her.  Willow raised one right back at him.

 "Yeah.  Are you going to let me in?  Or are you just going to leave me out here with all of the night critters and poorly made imitation Greek statues?"  Idiot!  You're giving him ideas!  Never say stuff like that in front of a born killer!  He could...well...kill you!  Willow's internal berating was interrupted by Spike's chuckle.  She couldn't figure out if this was a good omen or a terribly bad one.

 "They are pretty pathetic, aren't they?"

 She was confused.  "Wh-what?  The night critters?"

 He took her stammer for what it was (a lot of nervousness) and smiled a smile that couldn't possibly be mistaken for an evil one.  It made her blush.  "Them too, but I was talking about Diana and her hungover animal friends down there," Spike pointed at the Artemis fountain and Willow followed his finger.

She couldn't help the breath of laughter at the thought of the fox, deer, bear, wolf, and pheasant all gathered in a bar, getting plastered on Jim Beam before going home to Diana (Artemis, if you will) and throwing up all over her living room as she stood proudly among the sick surrounding her ankles.  Spike's smile widened, and he stepped to the side of the door.

 "Entire, fair lady," he bowed slightly at the waist and shut the door behind her once she was inside and gawking at the Dell computer perched primly on a solid oak desk.

 "Is that a Pentium Four?" she asked, still staring at the blank screen.

 "Yes.  I just got it, so--"

 "Can I?"

 Her eyes were lit up with undisguised glee, and her finger hovered over the power button.

 "Knock yourself out," Spike said on the way to the kitchen.  He didn't need to turn around to see the suddenly frightened look on her face.  "Speaking figuratively, of course.  Want anything to drink, love?"

 Watching the Windows logo fade into place, Willow absently shrugged.  "Sure.  What have you got?"

 He rummaged around in the fridge and smiled.  Leave it to Anya to put something in here that would make her want to stay--even with an evil, murdering vampire in the same room.  "Water, Coke, Guinness, Bailey's, and...oooh..." he licked his lips and pulled out a bag of AB negative.  "Dinner."

 "Water's fine," said Willow, not hearing his happy purr.

 "Catch," he tossed a bottle of water in her direction and set about warming up his dinner.  He found a large mug in the cabinet with the words: "I cannot live without books" etched onto it.  The quote's author, however, was not credited.  Thomas Jefferson.  Fellow book and coffee addict.  Good chap.  Spike dumped what he could fit into the mug and popped it into the microwave.  As the blood heated up, he emptied the rest of the bag, ignoring how cold it was and just savoring the human aftertaste.  Using magic always made him extra hungry.  Considering he'd already eaten a few hours ago.

 "Holy...crap!  You have Windows 2000!"

 The microwave dinged cutely, and Spike retrieved dinner before returning to the living room.  He still had no idea whatsoever as to how Anya got all of this stuff so soon.  But he found that he didn't much care.  Sipping his dinner, then just chugging it, he crossed the room and perused the books that lined the bookcase.  Willow took a swallow from her water bottle, tore her eyes away from the blank canvas of a desktop and she watched him set the empty mug on the desk next to her elbow.  His full attention was now on a few occult books that were in the center of the shelf at eye level.

 "Found it," he said abruptly, grabbing one with an incredibly worn spine and carefully handling it.  Seated in the computer chair, Willow twisted to have a look at it.  The title was written in Old English, and from the looks of it, it was pre-printing press.  The pages were onionskin.

 “I’ll let you borrow this--as long as you promise not to damage it in any way.  It’s a very old book, Red,” Spike warned.

 She snorted.  “It’s easy to see that,” she paused and took in his serious face.  “Uh...  I promise not to damage this really old book in any way.  B-but you said you could help me.  So...  Help?” Willow’s eyes widened as he handed her the tome, and she curiously opened it to the first page.  The ink was worn and faded, but still reasonably legible.

 "Read the book first, then I’ll help you," he raised that eyebrow again, then glanced at the desktop clock on the computer.  "But for now, head home.  It's late, and I'm pretty sure the Slayer will be worried that her roommate is missing."

 Willow closed the book and hugged it to her chest before standing from the computer chair and clutching her water bottle in her free hand.  "Y-you're letting me...?  T-this wasn't a trap?"

 Teasingly, Spike opened his mouth and brought his teeth down with a loud click that made Willow jump.  He just had to laugh a little at that.  "Get going," he said in-between chuckles.  She ran past him and most likely sprinted the entire way back to the dorm.

*

 Buffy was practically frantic when Willow slipped back into her shared dorm room.  In fact, as soon as Willow crossed the threshold of the room, she grabbed her friend by the shoulders and gently shook.

 "Where the hell did you go off to?!" she demanded.

 Willow took note of her Buffy's frantic eyes and sighed before telling the truth.  She could never lie to her friends.  She just wasn't any good at it.  "I-I...  There was someone in here before you came back.  Uh...  H-he told me he could help me with my magic studies, and he gave me his address.  Y-you were a little busy with Riley, so I just..." she avoided her gaze.  "I just went and he did help me.  He gave me this book," Willow held it up and looked into Buffy's eyes for any indication of what she may be feeling.

 Buffy tentatively let her go and crossed her arms over her chest.  "Let me get this straight--after I left for patrol, you let a stranger into the dorm room and then you went where?  To his house?  By yourself?  Willow, he could be some creep!  He could be a maniacal serial killer who lures unsuspecting girls to their doom with-with--"

 "He wasn't a stranger," Willow hedged, sitting down on her bed and picked bits of imaginary lint off of the bedspread.  The book felt as though it weighed twice what it really did, and a knot was forming in her stomach.  She's going to flip...I'm going to flip.  What was I thinking?  That since his hair and clothes are different, he won't hurt me??

 "Well, then, who was he?" Buffy sat down across from her and was more than slightly troubled when Willow didn't meet her eyes.  "C'mon, It can't be that bad."

 Willow mumbled out a response and began chewing on her lip.

 "What was that?" Buffy asked.

 Willow heaved a deep sigh and met the Slayer's eyes.  "It was Spike, okay?  He came in here and was surprisingly nice and he told me that he could help me with my magic problems."

 Krakatoa had nothing on Buffy.

 "WHAT?!?  You let that...that...that vampire into our room and you went to his house?!?" she stood up and upset her mattress.  It slid from the bed frame and hit the floor with a surprisingly loud crash.  Willow jumped.

 "Y-you didn't talk to him, Buffy.  He was sober, he was cleaned up...he-he was polite--"

 "Willow, vampires don't change.  Vampires are after one thing and one thing only--your blood."

 Now Willow stood.  The book jumped on her bed when she dropped it.  "Excuse me?  Can I just say one thing--Angel!  Vampires can't change my...my hiney.  I read about him too, you know.  And when he came back, that was not the same Angelus!  He changed."

 "He has a soul!"

 "And he changed with that too!  He adapted!"

 "That's completely different, Willow!"

 "If you don't believe me, why don't you just go talk to him and see for yourself!  I'll even take you there," Willow made her way to the door and Buffy followed.

 "Fine.  But if he tries to attack me or you, he's dust."

 And Willow had a very disturbing thought.  I doubt it.  You never could beat him.  You beat Angelus, but you never could beat Spike...  She ended up slamming the door shut.

~Part: 5~
AN: From this chapter on, the story is extremely AU.  Events you remember from Pangs have been altered.

 Someone was pounding on his door.  Spike frowned and looked up from the book he was reading (Paradise Lost).  It couldn't be Willow--not this soon.  Plus, Willow never pounded on a door.  She always knocked daintily.  As he stood from the sofa and drew closer, a scent hit him.

 "Slayer," he grumbled and marked his place in his book before wrenching the door open.  "Would you kindly keep it down?  My neighbors are actually trying to sleep at this hour."

 Buffy blinked up at him for a second, frowned, and shoved her way in.  Willow followed her, but mouthed an apology as she passed.  Spike shrugged in response.

 "Just what do you think you're doing here?  You said that you'd never come back, and here you are!  And you...you..." she paused in her tirade and turned around to see Spike standing with his arms crossed over a plain grey T-shirt (he'd changed).  He had both eyebrows raised and was looking at her expectantly.

 "You're stopping?  Keep going, you were on a roll."

 Buffy frowned and then looked more closely at her surroundings.  Her eyes followed the flow of the furniture and then settled on Spike again.  And his brown hair.

 "Why is your hair brown?"

 He gave a long-suffering sigh and ran his fingers through the hair in question.  "'Cause it grows that way.  Are you here for a specific reason, or did you just come to yell at me to hear your own head rattle?"

 "I meant...you...Willow, help me out?"

 Willow bit her lip, and Spike looked at her expectantly.  "Yeah, pet, help her out."

 "Shut up.  Buffy's just worried that you're here to corrupt me or kill half of Sunnydale or...something," Willow said.

 "What she said," Buffy nodded.

 A slow smile spread across Spike's face, and he shrugged.  "I don't know if you'd call it 'corrupting,' but last time I was here, Red was on the verge of trying a de-lusting spell.  And she had the wrong ingredients with her.  My guess is that the translation was a bit fuzzy, but still..."

 "How did you...?  You were drunk!" Willow watched him cross the room and flop bonelessly onto his own couch.

 "Not drunk enough to know the difference between vervain and asafoetida.  Anyway, I figured she could use a few pointers before she tries her next spell.  You've got less of a chance of screwing up if you know exactly what you're doing," he said.

 "Oh my goddess...  Vervain is supposed to kindle love, isn't it?"

 Spike nodded.

 "Oh my goddess," Willow repeated, hiding her face in her hands.  "Then it's a really good thing you came and kidnapped us before I did anything..." she paused and frowned at herself.  Buffy gave her the same look for a different reason, and Spike just looked amused.

 "Listen," he began, "I'm not here to start any trouble--or at least what you would define as trouble.  I'm just here because...well..."

 Spike finally felt the oddity of the situation settle in, and he scratched his head.  How in all seven Hells am I supposed to explain my being here?  And what sod would believe that I just missed Sunnyhell?  Thanks so much, Anyanka.  We worked out the cover story so well together.  Golly, I never knew that I could communicate through ruddy osmosis.  Stupid bint.

 "'Well?'" Buffy prompted.  She had adopted an "I'm superior" pose and was currently tapping her smart little toe at him.  Spike hated it when she did that.

 "Well I figured that...  Since I'm..." THINK THINK THINK!!!  You're the master at spot-on plans, come up with something!  "Not doing any good in Brazil--"

 "Since when do you ever do good?" Buffy interjected.

 "Shut up!" Spike snapped.  "I wasn't finished.  And you can't interrupt someone in their own home, it's rude."

 "I doubt that rule applies to vampires."

 "Buffy!  Shut up!" Willow admonished.  The Slayer looked astonished at her friend's sudden burst of mini-bitch, but brushed it off when Spike started talking again.

 "As I was saying," he aimed a pointed and very deadly look at Buffy (amber eyes included) and continued,  "I decided to return to Sunnydale to...well...help out."

 "And since when are you Mr. I-Help-The-Scooby-Gang?"

 "Buffy, stop it!"

 Spike lifted his socked feet onto the coffee table and crossed his ankles.  Idly, Willow took note of the red "Hanes" stitching on the soles and she smiled.  "Thanksgiving is coming up soon, isn't it?" he asked.

 Buffy turned her attention away from her redheaded friend and stared blankly at the dark vampire.  "Yeah?"

 He smirked.  "I can cook."

*

 "Buffy, what are you doing?"

 "Giles, I know that the British don't celebrate Thanksgiving and all, but you are living in America right now.  So suck it up.  And help me and Willow bring the rest of all this food in.  I wanted to avoid the rush to the supermarket, but I actually had to fight off some soccer-mom type to get this turkey.  I almost had to resort to...well...she was fightin' for a plucked bird that I grabbed first..."

 Giles adjusted his glasses and watched with minor amusement as his Slayer dumped a twenty-pound turkey onto the kitchen counter.  "It's 'Willow and me,' and I would like to know why you are using my oven.  And my stove.  And let's not forget my dining table."

 Buffy wiped her hands off on her pants and frowned.  "Well...  Because you're the only one of us who actually has an oven.  Well, an oven and a dining table," she blushed suddenly.  "W-which reminds me...  But first," she derailed and held an impatient finger aloft, "I just want you to know that I spent the better of the afternoon watching Xander dig and trying to ignore Anya's icky comments.  Oh yeah."

 She snapped her fingers.  "He broke through the ground and fell a ways.  I think he said something about...something."

 Giles' shoulders sagged.  Please, be a little more vague.  You're making too much sense.  Bloody girl even has my thoughts sarcastic...

 Willow entered with two paper bags balanced in her arms--both full with canned yams and such.  "You did get marshmallows and walnuts for the sweet potato pie, right Buffy?"

 The Slayer's eye twitched, and Giles frowned.  Something was up.  Yes, indeed-y do.

 "Uh...  I didn't, but he has both.  But they were little marshmallows and walnuts that were still in the shells.  I snooped yesterday when he was showing you all of those books he's got."

 At this, Giles cleared his throat.  Both girls turned to face him and were greeted by a stern Watcher glare.  "What was it that you were going to tell me earlier, Buffy, and why do I have the sudden sinking feeling that it's related to this mysterious 'he' you are both referring to?"

 "Uh..." Buffy busied her hands with a bag full of potatoes.  "Well, you see...  Um..."

 Oops, there went the Slayer's spine.

 "What's he talking about, Buffy?" Willow asked.

 "I-yay ay-may ave-hay entioned-may ike-spay."

 Fluent in Pig Latin, Willow frowned.  "To Giles?"

 "Yes."

 "Did you mention the name...  Ike-spay?"

 "No."

 "Oh."

 "Children, please," he was pinching that spot between his eyes again with one hand and rubbing the lenses of his glasses with the hem of his shirt again.  "Just tell me what it is you're trying to hide and get it over with."

 "Willow, you tell him."

 "ME?  You're the Slayer, you tell him!"

 "You're his 'padawan learner,' you tell him!"

 They were both cut short as someone knocked on the front door.  The sound was so foreign to Giles that it took him a second for it to register that there was one polite person left in the world.  Without peeping, he swung the door wide open.  And promptly gasped in shock.

 "Mind if I come in for a bit?  I brought pie."

 Willow was the first person to get over seeing Spike standing there in all his brunette-headed glory with a pumpkin pie resting in his left hand.  Giles blinded curiously at the bright sunlight creating Spike's shadow and he replaced his glasses.  "How...?"

 "Ooh...  Pumpkin pie.  Did you buy it or make it?" Willow gave him a sly look, feeling more courageous since her little independent stunt yesterday.

 "I made it, Red.  And it needs to stay cold.  May I please come inside?" at the last, Spike looked directly at Giles.

 "You...  You're in the sun..." the former Watcher stammered.

 "Oh!" exclaimed Willow.  "Hey...  How are you in the sun?  And not all crispy, I mean."

 Spike grinned and peeled off his sunglasses with his free hand before placing them in his breast pocket.  "My secret.  Now, may I--"

 "Wait!" Giles snapped.  His arm jerked and rattled the door that he still held in a death-grip.  "Do not tell me that this is the 'he' you spoke of, Buffy."

 "Uh..." Buffy scratched her neck.

 "Ashamed of me, Slayer?" Spike clucked his tongue and shook his head.  "Pity.  How's this--I swear, on pain of death, that I am not here to harm any of you," he raised his hand and gave the Boy Scout salute.  "Even Xapper."

 Giles gave him a calculating stare.  "I don't trust you."

 Spike shrugged and managed to not drop the pie.  "Didn't expect you to, Rupert.  I just want to come in and make sure the Slayer doesn't forget to turn the oven on when she sticks the turkey in it."

 Buffy looked offended.  "Hey!  And I thought you were going to cook it!"

 Spike smiled.  "I can only cook for you if he lets me in."

 "Oh, good grief.  Spike, come on in," Willow said from the side.  At this, the smile widened into a full, toothy grin, and Spike gently pushed his way inside the ex-Watcher's home.  Outraged, Giles could only watch with mouth agape as Willow led the former blonde into his kitchen.

 "...You used real pumpkin in this?!"

 "Yeah.  Bloody messy way to go about it, though.  Still, I got roasted pumpkin seeds out of it."

 "Oh, those are good."

 "Hm.  You're telling me.  They taste great in some A positive, too."

 "I've never...ew!  Spike..."

 The pair trailed off, and Giles turned his head a bit to aim a pointed stare at Buffy's face.  The Slayer cringed just a bit.  "It isn't my fault.  He just...showed up!  Again!  Heck, about a week ago he was doing the same 'in the sun' thing and trying to kill me and he had blonde hair and I swear to you that I gave that weird ring thingy to Angel!"

 "Who called just the other day to tell me he was putting it to good use in LA.  So what's that on Spike's hand?" Giles pointed.

 "That..." Buffy frowned and blinked.  "That's the same ring."

 Giles pursed his lips and summed up his feelings in four words.  "I don't like this."

 Buffy nodded.  "Neither do I," she said.  "But you haven't really talked to him yet.  Something is different about him."

 They both watched as Spike and Willow sorted the canned goods and fresh vegetables on the kitchen counter.  Had Giles not known any better, he would swear that the Victorian-bred vampire was actually a twenty-something college student friend of Willow's that was just dropping by to say hello.

 "Why is he here, really?" Giles asked.

 Buffy dropped her bomb.  "He said he wanted to help us."

 That got Giles' total attention.

*

 "Xander has syphilis, and that lady who got to dig first yesterday is dead and missing an ear.  According to Buffy.  Bring back any pertinent memories?"

 Grumble.  "Good morning to you too, Demon-girl.  You sure do have a way of getting right to the bloody point."

 "What are we supposed to do this time?  Remember, first it was that history lady, then the priest.  Oh!  That Chumash guy was after people in roles of power."

 Wince.  "Must you be so loud?"

 "It's only ten AM.  Shouldn't you be awake by now?"

 Spike shifted in bed, resting his head against the headboard and thus placing more of his weight upon his shoulders than his neck.  "I'm a vampire.  Not only that, but a vampire making up for a decade of lost sleep.  Why did you bloody call?"

 "Sheesh, no need to be so grumpy," she sighed.

 "Actually, there is.  You woke me up."

 Anya clicked her nails on the handset she was using, and Spike was forced to pull the phone further away from his sensitive ear.  "Must you?" he asked again.  "I'm awake now.  Hooray for you, Anya, now what the frell is the matter?"

 Anya stopped clicking her nails and settled for shrugging.  Lucky for her, Spike had preternatural hearing, and he caught the noise that her shirt made with the movement and interpreted it correctly.  "You aren't sure?" he speculated.

 "Well, it was a long time ago that this happened...  And...  I can't remember what I'm supposed to do."

 He couldn't hold back the yawn anymore, and proceeded to let a long one out.  It made his ears pop uncomfortably, and he was forced to click his jaw several times to return the 'normal' feeling.  "So just wing it, love.  We were sent here to make sure the future didn't end up the way it was, so who gives a bloody rat's arse what we do in this situation."

 Anya chewed her lip and said, "You're right.  Well, in that case, I'm going to hang up and make a call to the doctor to see if I can get Xander a prescription for penicillin."

 "You do that," Spike said.

 "Okay.  Well.  Wake up, and meet us over at Giles'.  It's time to start research."

 Click...  Beep...  THWOK!  Spike cringed and mentally noted never to put the handset back in the charger quite so violently.  "Too...  Loud..."

 He settled for getting out of bed and stumbling toward the shower.

*

 Angel was on a mission.  A mission from God, so to speak, but a mission nonetheless.  Earlier that day, Doyle had been hit with one of his visions, and it involved three main things-- Buffy, considerable peril, and Spike.  Spike with brown hair.  So, there he stood (in the sun) behind Giles' apartment, waiting for the Slayer to leave so he could talk to the patriarch of the Scooby gang.  When she did, Angel politely knocked.

 Giles didn't smile, but he didn't frown either.  Angel took this as a good sign.

 "My friend had a vision."

 "Are we in grave danger?" Giles asked, slightly sarcastic.  He crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

 "Maybe.  It may have something to do with whatever killed that woman at the museum," Angel uncomfortably slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and curled his toes inside his boots.

 "Perhaps.  The dig site that was disturbed yesterday had an old church mission below it.  Xander fell through."

 "Is he okay?" Angel asked.

 "Fine.  He's fine.  But do you think that a spirit was disturbed there?"

 "Or released.  The mission was underground, right?"

 "Correct."

 "Missions...  I suppose it was something that has a fondness for ancient weapons," Angel paused and then looked up from the floor to Giles' face.  "You know Father Gabriel?"

 "No," Giles shook his head.

 Angel shrugged, "He knows the history of this place pretty well. His family dates back to mission times. He might be able to fill in some blanks."

 "Okay. Well, I'll see about contacting him," Giles paused and took note of Angel's hesitant step toward the sidewalk.  "Where are you going?"

 "To watch her."

 Giles looked stricken.  "Don't...  This is terrible, Angel.  You're hurting her, and you're hurting yourself."

 Angel sighed.  "I know.  I don't want to, but I have to make sure that she'll be okay."

 "She's the Slayer," Giles stated.  "She can handle herself."

 Angel left, completely forgetting the scent of a being that was unmistakably familiar and floating about the air in Giles' living room.

~Part: 6~

 Willow was ready to fall over.  She had a stack of books up to her chin, and she couldn't quite reach the stupid doorknob--much less the door.  Desperate to rid herself of the load she had, the red head yelled to anyone who might be listening on the other side.

 "Hello?!  Is anyone there?  I-I can't open the door, my--"

 Willow broke away as a hand knocked on the door for her, then reached down to take the books out of her arms.  She whirled to see just who was helping her and was struck speechless.

 "You looked like you could use a hand," Spike grinned down at her.

 "Thanks," Willow said.  The door opened, and Buffy waved them in.

 "Oh, good, you brought the books," she said, grabbing a couple of tomes from the stack that Spike held.  She leafed through it quickly and muttered some things to herself.

 Playing ignorant, Spike asked, "So, what's this all about?  Native American Tribes of Western America?" he read aloud.  "I know you Americans are all for the patriotism and whatnot, but researching Indians?"

 "The preferred term is 'Native Americans,'" Willow corrected.  Spike gave her a raised brow "And we have problem that involves a dead person and Chumash artifacts from this dig that Xander was at yesterday.  You remember Xander, right?  Kinda average height, brunette, you clunked him in the back of the head with a microscope..."

 "Yes, I remember him.  Just because I was drunk last time doesn't make me stupid."

 Willow blushed and sat down at the table.  Spike cracked the book open and flipped to the table of contents.  "'Missions of Southern California.'  Sounds promising.  What makes you think it was an In--" he paused, took note of Willow's glare, and amended himself, "--a Native American that snuffed some poor sod's light?"

 Across the room, Giles cringed.

 "Well, there was this whole thing with Professor Gerhardt.  She's sitting in her office, and whammo," Willow made a slashing motion with her hand, "gets her throat cut with one of the recovered knives.  And there was a huge pair of scissors just sitting there.  Oh!  Not only that, but whoever did it also cut her ear off and dumped the body."

 Buffy spoke up, walking back from the kitchen.  "And it's two 'poor sods,' not one.  Okay, went to get the scoop on our Sunnydale mission and found Father Gabriel with a new rope-shaped appendage and a big 'Native American' guy slicing his neck.  Long story short, we had a fight, he said something along the lines of: 'I am vengeance' yadda yadda 'you slaughtered my people' whine, complain, 'I'll carve out justice.'  Then he turned into a bunch of crows...or was it bats?  Anyway, he turned into a flock of something and flew away."

 "Hmph," Spike made a face.  "A vengeful Native American spirit set out to right all wrongs put upon his people.  Sounds like a grand holiday."

 Giles shot him a look and went back to shelling his peas.  Peas that the vampire across the room had reminded the Slayer to get.  "Shouldn't you be doing this?  I was told that you were going to cook," Giles said, shaking the bowl of peas in Spikes direction.

 "Right," Spike took the bowl from him and strode into the kitchen, peeling his jacket off at the same time.  He threw it over the back of one of the chairs in the dining room and set the bowl down by the sink.  "You haven't turned on the oven yet?" he called over his shoulder.

 Buffy ran in, swearing and twisting a random knob on the oven.

 "Okay, first off, that's the rear burner," he turned it off, "and second, this is the oven.  This turkey weighs about twenty pounds, so set it on 325° and let it go for five-and-a-half to six-and-a-half hours."

 "How the hell do you know that?"

 "I have a wonderful memory," he smiled.  "You took the bag of giblets out, right?" Spike leaned a bit to peek in the oven window at the trussed-up turkey awaiting its doom.

 "Bag of what?"

 He sighed and talked her through a few things whilst keeping an ear out for when it would be best for her to enter the living room again.  Giles and Willow were discussing Angel...

*

 Spike had just replaced the lid on the boiling potatoes when he heard the conversation about the ethics of fighting an indigenous species end and the one about Xander's current condition begin.

 "...Anya said I needed penicillin, so..."

 "Yeah, that weird fungus cures lots of crap.  You'll feel better, Xander, I promise."

 Willow interjected.  "Well, but this is probably mystical, and it'll all go away as soon as--"

 "As soon as what?" Xander prompted.

 Willow was getting that thoughtful look.  "We still don't know what we're gonna do. Well, maybe I can find something. Oh!  Let's give him some land!"

 Giles groaned.

 "Alright then, let's see if there are any spells to--"

 Giles protested verbally this time.  "No, you aren't prepared to--"

 "Okay, the peas are done, the turkey is turning a nice shade of gold, the potatoes are almost ready for mashing, and I made another pie...  Seeing as there's always room for extra," Spike interrupted, wiping his hands on a dishrag and ticking off the items he mentioned on his long fingers.

 "Good God, you made another pie?  Can we eat it now?" Buffy blinked.

 "Ak!  Spike!"

 "That's Spike?  He's cute."

 Spike struggled to hide his laughter.  This was going to be the harder part.  Being around Demon-girl and not acting as chummy with her as he usually did.

 "Anya?!  Spike?!  What's Spike doing here?"

 "I think he's making dinner--if the flour on his shirt is any indication," Anya supplied.

 "I got flour on this shirt?!  Damn!  Oh well..." Spike leaned over Willow's shoulder to see what she had been reading.  "A vengeful Native American spirit, huh?  Vengeful spirits are easy.  If they have a preferred weapon, they can be vanquished with it.  The only trouble is getting said weapon away from said vengeful spirit."

 Had they been in a cartoon, crickets would have been heard chirping.

 Willow, however, broke the awkward silence by flipping through her book a few times.  "Really?  Where did you read that?"

 "I didn't," he answered.  "I know from experience.  Now, if anyone would like some pie..." Spike trailed off, vaguely starting to walk back toward the kitchen.  Buffy sprinted past him.

 "She's sure in a good mood," the brunette vampire commented.

 "Yeah," Willow nodded.  "It's kind of weird.  But...good."

 Two feet behind him, Xander was freaking out.

*

 Xander could never say no to pie.  It was the only reason that he sat in the dining room with the others and was listening to what Spike was saying.

 "So, this vengeful Native American spirit has been killing people in authority--make sense?"

 "I'd say so," Giles nodded.  He was still feeling (to borrow a word from Buffy) wiggy about letting the vampire "help."  It just didn't seem like something that Spike would do.  But, then again, cooking Thanksgiving dinner for a bunch of people he had previously tried to kill wasn't something Spike would do either.  Deep in thought, Giles decided to resolve the strange situation as soon as possible--by talking to the vampire himself.  Right.  As soon as this whole 'Chumash spirit' debacle is through with.

 "Then who would he go after next?"

 "Oh!" Willow perked.  "Dean Guerrero!  That's someone in power.  He's like the king of us."

 "Well," Spike made a face and shrugged, "maybe.  But, did the Native Americans care about educators?"

 Willow, stumped, began flipping through her book again.  "I just want to avoid confrontation as much as possible...  I mean, I feel bad.  We stole their land and raped and murdered almost all of their people and--"

 "And why are you saying 'we?'" Spike asked.  He continued to pace, mashing the hell out of a bowl of cooked potatoes that rested in the crook of his arm.  "It wasn't you personally, it wasn't Anya personally, and it certainly wasn't myself or Tweedy personally that destroyed his existence.  It was a bunch of single-minded early settlers who were conquering the land in the name of God.  We had nothing to do with it."

 "But I still--"

 "It's what conquering nations do.  It's what Caesar did.  No one's going around saying that he was unjust in his take-over of Briton."

 At this, Giles raised a thoughtful eyebrow.  He'd never thought of it that way.

 "Wasn't he?" Willow countered.

 This was clearly becoming a heated, intellectual debate between the two, and the four remaining people felt a bit like spectators at a tennis match.

 "Screw the Celts--if Caesar hadn't come in and claimed the land as his own, Great Britain might as well be communist!" the bowl of now-pureed potatoes landed on the table with a loud clack, and everyone jumped.  "This Chumash spirit doesn't care if you apologize or give him land, he only wants all those who oppose him dead.  That is his driving force.  To avenge the deaths of his people.  The next person of any power around here is not some dean, it's her."

 He pointed right at Buffy.

 "ME?" she squeaked.

 "You fought him.  He left.  He considers you a warrior," Spike pointed out.

 "But I--"

 Willow interrupted, still fixed on Spike's words.  "But it still doesn't justify killing one lonely guy!"

 "It's kill or be killed here, Willow.  Take your bloody pick."

 And a great wave of dé jà vu crashed down on his head.  Spike had to steady himself on the back of the chair to keep from falling over.  Giles and Willow were the only ones who took notice.

 "Maybe this is the syphilis talking, but...some of that made sense," came from Xander.  Spike staggered a little again.  This time, Buffy saw it as well.

 "Got a problem, Fang?"

 Spike was silent, straightening up again and rolling his shoulders.  "Anyway, someone should go warn the dean just in case.  He'll either be after a warrior or a ruler."

 "I'll go," Willow volunteered, then looked at Anya.

 "I'll go too.  It's better to go in pairs, right?" Anya asked.  She got a nod from the Slayer.  "Xander, you could use some fresh air too.  Let's go."

 "Dinner's in an hour," Spike reminded as all three left the apartment.

 There was a blanket of silence that settled upon them all as Spike began loading up the serving dishes.

 "Uh," Buffy scratched the back of her neck, "what, exactly, are you eating?  I mean...vampire...blood...us at the table as well..."

 He shrugged and placed a cover on top of the sweet-potato pie.  "I ate before I came over here--the hospital has me on record as an anemic, and I get donated blood for a reasonable price.  Otherwise, I'll just eat what everyone else is.  I happen to like human food."

 Buffy looked uncomfortable.  "I just...thought that vampires wouldn't eat human food.  An...Angel never did."

 Spike snorted.  "Bloke's just punishing himself..." he paused, listened, then said, "Duck."

 "Huh?"

 He shoved her to the floor, and an arrow twanged against the hard wood of Giles' table.  The poor little scarecrow centerpiece that sat there was skewered.  Blinking the shock of seeing the floor that quickly, Buffy looked up...

 "It's you!  Look, we all feel really bad and want to make this up to you, but--"

 ...and was shot at again.

 "He brought friends," Giles pointed out, then dove behind his sofa.

 "Can you make it there?" Spike asked, pointing to where Giles was hunkered.

 "Without getting shot?!  I doubt it--"

Buffy was cut off unexpectedly as the tall vampire grabbed her by her upper arms, placed his body in-between her and the hail-fire of arrows, and tossed her into Giles' waiting arms.  Stunned, but still aware, Buffy quickly switched into battle mode.

 "The taller guy is the leader!  That knife has to be his preferred weapon!"

 Spike nodded curtly and picked up a chair to use as a shield.  Several arrows pierced the seat of it, and with a loud yell he flung himself in the Chumash Indian's general direction.

 On the way back to Giles', Angel was pointing out a fact that the duo of young people (well, discounting Anya) already knew, thanks to Spike.

 "He's a warrior.  To a warrior, the leader means the strongest fighter."

 "Right, but we just wanted to make sure that the dean was all right," Anya interjected before either Willow or Xander could say anything.  "And he was, so let's hurry back...  Want this pie, Angel?  We've already had one, and the dean's wife gave it to us to go away I think."

 Angel took it without thinking, then shook his head.  "We don't have time for this.  This guy could be forming a raiding party and we're wasting time."

 "Then let's go," Willow said.  Conveniently, there was a bike rack beside them--stocked with four innocent looking bikes.  Angel broke the chain and dialed as he pedaled.  He hoped to God that Giles would pick up.

 And he did.  "He-hello?"

 "The spirit is after Buffy--"

 "Yes...w-we're aware of that now, thank you."

 "Giles, is that...are those arrows that I hear?"

 "How very perceptive of you."

 Angel set his jaw in determination.  "We're on our way back."

 They both hung up.

*

 Giles peeked over the back of the sofa to check on Spike's progress.  He was slightly surprised to see that the vampire had engaged two archers in combat, leaving two for him and Buffy to deal with.

 "There's one by the kitchen window and the leader."

 "Weapons chest?" Buffy asked.  Though, Giles knew that it wouldn't do any good (if what Spike said was true).

 "Across the room."

 She very nearly got shot through the arm--had Spike not distracted her by growling very loudly and following up that sound with the lovely noise of two necks cracking, her arm would have been in an arrow's direct path.

 Returning, Spike threw a warrior (that had been wrestling with Giles) across the room and indicated the leader.

 "You wish vengeance?" he asked, above the racket of more fighting going on outside.

 The warrior barely acknowledged him.

 Frustrated, in pain, and wanting to try his first turkey, Spike released what he'd been holding in all afternoon.  "Concrescere!"

 The leader froze, and a look of outrage crossed his features.

 "Slayer, take his knife now--I can't hold this much longer."

 Buffy spared him a glance, and Giles just stared.

 A spell.  William the Bloody just did a word spell...

 "NOW!  Take his knife and stab him NOW!"

 She did so, and all of the Native American spirits that they'd been fighting vanished in a puff of green smoke.  Worn out, the others staggered indoors.  Angel remained out of sight--though he stared unabashedly at Spike before running off.  After everyone had settled down, Spike decided to give in to the weak feeling that had been creeping along his limbs, and he plonked down on his rump in the middle of the living room.

 "Can someone please pull these arrows out of me?"

 Willow made a squeaking noise and tried to help him out.  But as much adrenaline that had been coursing through her beforehand, she grew tired quickly.  Surprisingly, Buffy was the one to stand from her seat at the table and yank the arrows out of his chest, arm, and legs.

 The oven beeped, and grasping at the last vestiges of consciousness, Spike mumbled, "Turkey's done."

 He passed out.

*

 "Be sure to leave leftovers.  God, this is the best food I've had in such a long time...  We should make him cook for us on a weekly basis."

 "Xander!"

 "I'm just saying...  For a vicious, cold-hearted, ruthless, bastard of a vampire, he sure knows how to cook."

 On the sofa, these were the words that Spike woke up to.  He remained silent, waiting for that question that he knew had to be niggling at someone's mind.

 "I still don't understand why he's helping us.  Or why we're letting him."

 I knew Giles would ask it.

 "I don't either, Giles.  But after what he did for us today...  I don't feel like questioning it," said Buffy.  "Plus, he knows how to cook sweet potato pie the right way--with the yams whole, and the syrup from the can still in it...mmm...crispy marshmallows and walnuts..."

 The sound of food being eaten grated on his ears, and Spike's headache flared to life with a throb.

 "Buffy, please close your mouth when you chew," he could just see the expression of 'ew' on Willow's face.

 "Yeth, muver."

 "Ew...  Is that how I look when I eat?"

 No, it looks much, much worse, Spike thought, sitting up and groaning at the same time.

 "You're awake."

 "Thank you for stating the obvious, Rupert.  You wouldn't happen to have Motrin, would you?  'S the only stuff that works..."

 He was cradling his head with his good arm and squinting against the bright lights of Giles' living room.  Spike looked terrible.  His face was waxen and pale (paler than normal, at least), his shirt was covered in blood and had far too many extra holes in it, and his knee wouldn't bend comfortably.  He assumed that it had something to do with the fact that, not too long ago, there used to be a wooden arrow imbedded in it.

 "I'm sorry," Giles shrugged and sipped more tea.  "I don't."

 "Well," Spike limped toward the door, "I'm going home.  Glad you enjoyed the food so much--"

 Willow stopped him from going any further.  "Who said you had to leave?"

 Spike didn't answer, but kept his back to her.

 "Come sit down and eat some of your turkey."

 He turned slightly to look at her with an unsurprised face.  Leave it to Willow to try and make someone feel better when she herself was feeling about as complete as Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.  Instead of the 124 tales she should have, 100 were missing because part of her soul recently died.  The others couldn't see it, but looking in her green eyes, Spike could see the empty void that Oz left behind.  And, for the first time, Willow really looked into his own eyes...  And was startled to see so much more pain than she thought possible.  Not just physical, but emotional as well.  Spike looked...tired.

 "Sit," she said again, and pointed to the empty chair next to her.

 Spike limped his way to the seat she had indicated.

 Xander continued on as if nothing had gone on.  Belching slightly, he rubbed his stomach and commented about being stuffed before saying: "You know what?  I think my syphilis is clearing right up..."

 Anya waggled her eyebrows, and Spike nearly choked on his mashed potatoes.

 "And they say romance is dead," deadpanned Buffy.  "Or maybe they just wish it."

 At this, Spike shook his head and forked another piece of dark meat onto his plate.  Willow was watching him eat out of the corner of her eye.

 "Well, maybe we started a new tradition this year," she said.

 Everyone looked at her.

 "Minus the Chumash Indian Vengeance spirit thing," Spike mumbled around a mouthful of green bean casserole.

 "Maybe not..." Willow amended, not hearing the vampire.  "But at least we all worked together.  It was like old times."

 "Yeah," Xander nodded.  "Except with Spike here too," he shot Spike a slightly evil glare, and Spike just drained his cup of wine and poured another.  "Well, Angel being here kind of made up for that."

 Buffy blinked at him.  Everyone stopped what he or she was doing to watch her reaction.  The fork she'd been using to eat pumpkin pie with clattered to her plate as the words "Angel" and "here" registered in her head.

 "Oops," was Xander's intelligent retraction of his statement.

~Part: 7~
AN: This chapter took so long because of writer’s block.  Sorry, folks!

 The sun rose slowly, bestowing the western coast with its celestial warmth.  A honeyed glow filled the silent apartment, and Spike blinked into the waking world.  It wasn't the light that woke him, however.  It was the abrupt tapping noise on his door.

 Grumbling, he crawled out of bed, threw on some pajama pants, and shuffled to the disturbance.  It was Willow.  He could smell her candy apple lotion through the door.  Wiping the sleep from his eyes and gearing himself for conversation, Spike opened the door.

 "Oh!!  Uh, sorry," she blushed and tried very hard not to look at him.  "I'll go, I mean, you're probably busy too...  Everyone else is and I was hoping that...  Nevermind," she stammered and turned to leave.  Spike caught her by the shirt collar and tugged just a bit.

 "No, you woke me up to talk, so get in here."

 "I-I...  It's just...  I..."

 He led her to the sofa and made her sit down before striding in the direction of the kitchen.  More like "stumbling."

 "Want coffee?" he asked, already pouring a cup.

 "Uh, sure.  And just some cream if you have it."

 Spike downed his breakfast, dropped the mug into the sink, then poured a second cup of coffee.  He returned to the living room with a container of powdered cream and the two full mugs.

 "Add your own," he told her.

 Willow stared at her coffee--with bits of clumped cream cloating on top--then looked up at Spike (who stood by the coffee table with a damnably smug look).  "I need a spoon."

 His smirk deepened, and (oh!  Look at that cute dimple!) Willow wished he hadn't.  She also wished he would go put a shirt on.  "This is where your first lesson begins," he said.

 "Huh?"

~~~*~~~

 Now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Spike downed another cup of coffee and placed the empty cup next to six others.

 "Almost got it.  Just concentrate a bit more."

 Willow gave him her best evil look.

 "Hey, love, how can you succeed without practice?"

 She made her new coffee bubble for as long as she could, then stopped.  "I'm drinking this one," she pointed to the mug, picked it up, and downed half of it.  Smirking, Willow handed the rest to Spike.

 "Bottoms up, Bill."

 Spike flashed her a very toothy smile and eyed her over the rim of the mug.  "Don't call me that," he said before swallowing the mug's contents.  He let her stew a bit before offering her another dimpled smile.

 "Nice work," he commented.  Willow smiled back and had to restrain herself from clapping her hands with joy.

 Spike started to clean up their mess, and as Willow busied herself in the den, Spike allowed the rare sensation of regret to wash over him.

 I shouldn't have taken a drink after her...

 He could still taste her lipgloss--her skin.  Indirectly, he'd kissed her.  Cursing to himself, Spike dumped the mugs into the sink and he gripped the edges of the counter so hard that a warning cracking noise was the only thing that made him stop.

 I can't do this.

 The Formica groaned beneath his grip, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

 "You okay, Spike?"

 He actually gasped in shock, having not heard her approach.  "Just a headache," he only half lied.  "Probably from too much caffeine."

 Willow looked disbelieving and almost let it pass completely.  "Are vampires affected by caffeine?  Um...  Do you want to, uh, walk it off?  I mean, I have a class to get to and...  Well, not that you're, uh, obligated to--"

 She trailed off and watched Spike yank on his boots and grab his apartment key.  "Coming?" he asked.

 Willow nervously followed and had to laugh at the keychain attached to the key.

 "Is that Chewbacca?"

 He only smiled.

~~~*~~~

 Spike tried not to stare at her as they walked in and out of the shafts of sunlight that peeked through the trees that thronged the sidewalk.  It was a hard task, however.  He had never really had the privilege of seeing Willow in the sunlight.  He felt cheated for not getting to see her that way the last time around.  And so, he just had to whisper it.

 "You're beautiful, you know."

 He spoke so low that Willow didn't hear him.  Spike decided to gather courage and say it louder...  Later.  When she wasn't so scared of him.

 It was almost silent--except for Willow's quiet humming.  She probably didn't notice that she was doing it because of her reaction.

 "What's that song?" Spike asked.

 Willow jumped a little.  "Uh, what song?"

 "The one you're humming, love," Spike absently kicked a rock and listened to it skitter down the concrete sidewalk to distract himself.

 Willow frowned to express her confusion.  "I was humming?"

 Spike nodded and started humming the tune for her benefit, and she blushed.  He smelled the embarrassment and shame wash over her and felt like kicking himself.

 "I-it's a Dingoes song..." she muttered.

 Not wanting her to feel bad at all, he shrugged.  "You know, if you have a song stuck in your head the best way to get it out is to sing another."

 Willow seemed to sense what he was doing for her.  "I can't think of any others..."

 Spike smirked and began singing.  "I have often walked down this street before; but the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before," he did a shuffle and really belted it out.  "All at once am I--several stories high--knowing I'm on the street where you live..."

 Willow giggled at the antics that went along with the snippet of the song, then she noticed where they were.  "Hey, we are on my street.  Thanks for walking with me, uh, and for the lesson.  I appreciate it.  And the whole song thing."

 "You're welcome, Red."

 There was a pause that Spike desperately wanted to fill with witty words or something, but he couldn't.  They settled for an awkward moment that was ended when he cleared his throat and offered her a ridiculous finger-wave.  Willow giggled again and trotted off in the direction of Stevenson Hall.

 Spike stood in the shade of the tress and watched Willow saunter up the steps to her dorm.  A low breeze touseled his hair, and he slowly began walking again--though, he wasn't watching where he was going.  Unexpectedly, Spike collided with a smaller body and sent her sprawling.  Books and papers went everywhere, but (luckily) amongst the flying debri, Spike caught the girl's arm and prevented the introduction of a bruised tailbone.

 "Sorry," he said, righting her on her feet and bending to gather her things for her.

 "I-it's all right.  I wasn't..." she paused, staring at him and suddenly backing away.  Fear was draining the color in her cheeks, and as Spike looked up to see why she had such a switch in emotion, he recognized her face.

 Tara.

 "Y-you're...you're a demon!!"

 Spike frowned and shoved her books into her arms.  "Thanks for noticing."

 She grew quiet, then closed her eyes and began mumbling.  Snarling, Spike covered her mouth with his hand and he glared at her.

 "Finish it, and you go back to see Daddy."

 Her eyes flew wide open.

 "Thought you wouldn't like that, Witch.  Run along."

 Tara ran and Spike looked down at his shoes in shame.  He hadn't meant to scare her so much, but...  What's this?

 He snatched a stray flyer off the sidewalk and gave it a quick read.  It was for a Wicca group meeting.  Pocketing it, Spike left for Giles' and started whistling the tune of "Peter and the Wolf."

~~~*~~~

 "Hey, Buffy."

 "You're chipper," the blonde greeted.

 "I am," Willow smiled, "aren't I?"

 "You got over Oz pretty quick," Buffy tossed out, completely missing the redhead's falling face.  "It's nice to see you happy again and not all mopey."

 "Yeah," Willow mumbled.  "I have a class in about fifteen minutes."

 She gathered her books together and trudged off in the direction of her computer programming class.  She had to fight the urge to slam the door on her way out and maintained eye contact with the wall as she made her way down the hall.  One flyer pinned on the bulletein board that she passed caught her eye, however.

 Oh yeah...  Wicca meeting tonight, Willow mentally snapped her fingers (since she couldn't do the same with her hands full) and managed to rip a flyer down with just two free fingers as she passed it.

~~~*~~~

 Spike stopped by a gas station on the way and bought two cartons of his favorite cigarettes.  As soon as he set foot outside the store (and heedless of the huge "NO SMOKING" signs), Spike was lit up and puffing away.  On his walk to Giles', he went through an entire pack.

 As Spike finished up the last cigarette of the crumpled paper container bearing the name "Marlboro: Unifltered," he considered a few things.  Like his injuries from fighting the vengeful spirits during Thanksgiving.  While wearing the ring, he wasn't supposed to bleed, but since it had been discovered (in the future) and since he'd worn it, anything other than solar resistance had remained untested.  So, either it was that, or...

 Still walking, Spike stared at the burning end of the cigarette.

 Since he'd returned to the past, he'd been having what can be best described as "episodes."  Moments where he'd seen an incident as it happened before and then a sharp knife of pain would stab his skull until all of his senses were dulled.

 Before he knew it, Spike was standing next to Giles' courtyard fountain with a cigaretted in his hand that was burning awfully close to his fingers.  He put it out on the heel of his shoe and rang the doorbell.

~~~*~~~

 Two hours of researching the Gentlemen later (Spike's suggesting), William the Bloody was back on the sidewalk.  But this time, he had a tag along.

 "Geez, got enough cigarettes?"

 He turned to glare at Buffy and blew smoke in her direction.

 The Slayer coughing and waved at the cloud, all the while giving Spike her best reproachful look.  With the fag hanging precariously from his lips, he gave a snort in response.

 "I think I liked you more when you were trying to kill me."

 At this, Spike gave a wide, toothy, dimpled grin.

 "So, why are you following me?"

 He flicked his burnt cigarette into the street and shoved both hands in his pockets.  The grocery bag with his two cartons dangled from one wrist.  "'M not followin' you.  I'm heading for the campus."

 "Why?" Buffy demanded.

 "Persistant little bugger, ain'tcha?"

 "Gonna answer me, then?"

 "Nope," he gave a secret smile and lengthened his strides.  With her little legs, the Slayer had to start jogging to keep up with him.

 "If you're plotting something..."

 "Ooo, don't tell me.  If I'm plotting something, you're going to threaten me with your little wooden friend."

 "No..." she gave him an evil look that made him shorten his strides.  "I'll tell my mom."

 Spike had a brief moment of literal fear before he covered it up with a convincing swoon.  "You wouldn't dare!"

 Buffy frowned.  "Jeez.  Crank up the sarcasm a bit."

 "All right," he cleared his throat, and in a completely girlish-sounding voice said, "No!  Anything but that!  I weep at just the thought of such a tongue-lashing!"

 Buffy rolled her eyes and stormed across campus and left a smiling William Merriday in her wake.

~~~*~~~

 "I think we should have a bake sale..."

 Willow almost groaned out loud and instead placed her chin in the cradle of her palm.  She wondered what possesed her to join this group of "wanna-blessed-be's" and decided that she could be doing her laundry instead of sitting in the room and listening to people discuss how they organized their spice-racks.

 "Um...do you have the right room?  This is the Wicca meeting."

 "Oh, I have the right room."

 Willow snapped to attention.  Spike?

 "But...um..."

 "Hi, Red."

 Willow jerked with surprise.  "Um...  Hi, Spike.  What are you--?"

 "Now, I know this may sound...I don't know, 'rude' coming from someone like me, but--"

 "Get out of here."

 All heads turned to gawk at Tara.  Spike, on the other hand, grinned at her.  "Why should I leave, witch?"

 "Y-you're not welcome here," she stammered, all the while wringing her hands together.

 "Tara!" the group leader admonished.

 "Did I ever harm you in any way, witch?" Spike asked, tilting his head a bit.  He never let her answer.  "I just popped by to say 'hi' to Red here."

 "You've said 'hi,'" Tara said, gaining courage.  "Now leave."

 "I also came by to drop this off," he ignored Tara's glare and handed Willow a thick, leatherbound book bearing the title Defensive Magick.  Willow took it and gave him an odd look--to which he merely winked at her and headed for the door.

 "Later, Red."

 As soon as the others were sure he was out of earshot, they all turned to stare at Willow.

 "What?!" she all but shouted while flipping through the spell book.

~~~*~~~

 Spike unlocked his apartment just in time to catch the answering machine stating: "This is the machine--I'm pretty sure you bloody well know what to do by now," and then beeping.

 "Shit."

 He threw his things on the sofa and grabbed the handset, jamming his finger on the 'talk' button all in one swift move.

 "What?" he growled into the receiver.

 "Do you always answer your phone like that?  'Cause it's kinda rude."

 "Anya, what is it?"

 "Fine," Anya dragged out with a wolrd-weary sigh.  "So the misson's director just called me on my little special phone--"

 "Why didn't I get a special phone?" Spike whinged, planting himself on his big, fluffy sofa.  Out of pure joy, he propped his feet up on the coffee table.

 "Shut up and let me finish.  I've just been told that we have a 97% chance of success."

 "What happened to the other 3%?  And what is this, Quantum Leap?"

 "Hey," Anya snapped.  "97% is a hell of a lot better than 36%.  Which is where it was before."

 "You're right," said Spike.

 "I know."

 "You're right, but that doesn't mean you get to be cheeky about it, love."

 "I'm going to hang up now."

 "That's nice."

 "Goodbye, you ungrateful vampire jackass."

 "The same to you, you vindictive demon bitch."

 Anya laughed and hung up.  Spike went to replace the handset in the charger when it rang again.

 Thus, his swearing graduated to: "Fucking hell!!"

 It rang again.

 "Hello?"

 "Yes, hello, Spike?"

 "Tweedy, is that you?" he growled.

 Giles huffed indignantly.  "Yes, but I--"

 "What is it?"

 There was a pause.  "Do you know anything about, er, the 'Initiative?'"

 Silence.

 "Spike?"

 "Yes," he cleared his throat.  "I do."

 "Well?" Giles prompted.

 "To put it succinctly, it's a government run organization that was created  for one purpose--the study and subsequent destruction of all races of demons.  Though, information I've seen on the place seems to suggest the construction of a super assassin.  One of a demonic nature."

 Spike waited for Giles to digest this.  It took a few minutes.

 "You said 'study?'"

 "More like 'experiment.'  I've, uh, heard of some sort of microchip that they've developed...  It prevents vampires from doing and sort of harm against living creatures," idly, Spike rubbed at the long scar on the back of his head and wondered how different his life would have been had he not been captured by the Initiative.  Would he be where he was now?  Would he even contemplate joining the white hats?  No...  Before he'd gotten to know the Scooby gang, he'd been against everything that they stood for.  But after more than 1,000 years of dealing with evil in its darker senses, Spike would say that he'd rather fight with them than go down in flames against them.  He didn't like fire.

 "I'm trying to decide if that's a bad thins," Giles mumbled darkly.

 Spike had to swallow hard to keep from snarling out loud.  "It's bad.  Believe me, it isn't just a form of control, it's torture.  And no one deserves torture..." more memories bubbled up to the surface of Spike's consciousness, and he had to tamp them down.

 "You sound as though you've dealt with this before."

 "Maybe I have, Rupert.  But all you really need to know is that the Initiative wants to annihilate everything supernatural and they're going about it the wrong way."

 Giles was silent for a while, and Spike waited as patiently as he could for the man to come to his senses.

 "Rupert?"

 "I'll have Buffy take a look into it."

 "Don't trust me?" he didn't have to wait more than a second for an answer.

 "No."

 Spike nodded--though Giles couldn't see it.  "Didn't expect you to.  In fact, I'd think less of you if you did."

 "Glad we're squared," said Giles.

 He hung up.  Spike did the same and decided to skip dinner.  Three seconds after hitting his mattress, the brunette vampire was still and asleep to all things around him.

~~~*~~~

 "Do vampires dream?"

 The words floated about Spike's slumbering head, along with the image of the girl...the young woman who asked the question.  She was fading in and out of his mind's eye.  Long, pale fingers tugged on a length of silky brunette hair, and wide sky blue eyes stared at him curiously over the top of a spell book.

 "Dawn?" he whispered.

 "Hmm, more like mid-morning."

 Spike jerked awake, shouting in alarm as his senses caught up with reality and alerted him to candy-apple lotion, bay leaves, salt, and Willow.

 "Bloody hell!!" he yelped.  She was a foot away from his face.

 "Morning to you too," Willow grumbled and moved to stand by his dresser.

 Spike rubbed the sleep from his face and swung into a sitting position on his bed.  "How the hell did you get in?" he grumbled back.

 "You left the door unlocked."

 Speech was lost to him, so he grunted instead.

 "Can't vampires sense dawn?"

 "Yeah," he said, crossing the room and throwing on a clean shirt.  He didn't bother changing his jeans.

 "Then why'd you say 'dawn?'"

 "I said that?"

 "Mm-hm," Willow followed him to his kitchen.

 "I was probably dreaming."

 "Ah, so vampires can dream."

 He paused, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.  He shook the feeling away a second later and dug through his fridge for breakfast.  Not bothering to nuke it, Spike poured the blood bag out into a mug and drank it cold.

 "Lovely," Willow mumbled.

 "Hey, I don't object to your human eatin' habits, Red," Spike warned.  He directed her to the living room and got her to sit down.

 "Well, you eat human food too--"

 "--Let me rephrase that, then.  I don't object to you staking all vampires or beheading every demon.  And I have some good demon friends."

  She grew quiet.

 "Hell, you people really hate being reminded that I'm one of them," he sighed without air in that way that made most people uneasy.  The feeling wasn't lost on Willow.  "Can't even bag it without the guilt trip you white hats give me."

 "I-I didn't mean it that way!"

 He smirked at her and watched her wring her hands in her lap for a while before he cracked his knuckles.  "So, you're here for a lesson, right?"

 Willow nodded.

 "Then open the book."

next | back