"What the hell is she doing in there?" Cordy asked as she flopped down
onto the sofa.

"Taking a shower," Angel answered.

"For forty-five minutes? No one’s that dirty," the brunette remarked.

"We’ve pretty much been in her face for the past two weeks," the
vampire reminded her. "She’s discovered the bathroom is the only place
to hide."

"I thought getting Willow out of Sunnydale was supposed to help," Doyle
spoke.

"It is, slowly," Angel assured him.

Cordelia sighed impatiently, "Well, we’re going to lose our dinner
reservations if she doesn’t hurry up. Someone should just go in there
and drag her out."

"I’ll go," the half-demon offered, jumping up onto his feet.

"I don’t think so," Cordy replied, sticking out a slender leg as he
stepped around her and sending him sprawling, face-first, onto the
floor.

Angel chuckled as Doyle rolled over and sat up, rubbing his nose and
looking at the brunette with a strange mixture of indignation and
humor. Spike pushed his lean frame up out of the armchair.

"I’ll go get her," he said.

"I thought you might," his sire laughed softly.

Spike rapped once on the door before pushing it open and stepping into
the steamy bathroom, "You coming out anytime soon, luv?"

A small squeal sounded from behind the shower's glass doors, and the
water immediately shut off.

"Spike! Get the hell out of here!" Willow’s voice demanded.

"I’ve seen it before, sweetheart," he reminded her playfully as he
reached for the door and quickly slid it open.

Willow gasped and reached for the towel hanging just outside the tub.

"Gods below, you’re gorgeous," the vampire murmured as his eyes
traveled appreciatively over her dripping body.

She frantically wrapped the towel around her naked form as Spike
reached for her arms and lifted her out of the tub. He pressed her
closely against him and wrapped his arms around her towel-clad waist,
leaving her feet dangling just above the tiled floor.

"Put me down," she huffed angrily, wriggling in his embrace.

"Oh, I don’t know. I’m kind of enjoying this," he grinned as his body
hardened in response to her squirming against him.

Immediately, she stilled, and he chuckled and laced his fingers through
her wet hair, pulling her mouth into a tender kiss. She placed her
hands against his shoulders and pushed herself away.

"Put me down," she repeated, though not nearly as angrily.

"I love you," he smiled.

"You shouldn’t."

He nodded in agreement, "I don’t deserve you. Not that I give a damn."

"That isn’t what I--" her reply was silenced as his lips descended to
hers once again.

He kissed her firmly until he felt her relax against him, and her arms
snaked around his neck. Finally, he released her, lowering her body
down the length of his until she was standing before him.

"Cordelia’s whining about dinner reservations," he told her. "What do
you think? Dinner or--"

"Dinner," she quickly decided and stepped around him, flinging the door
open and heading for the bedroom.

She felt his hand on her arm as she reached for the doorknob.

"Dinner it is," he agreed, taking hold of one edge of the towel and
ripping it off her. "But you owe me desert."

She gasped, and her entire body flushed a most enticing shade of red
before she stumbled through the door and slammed it shut in his face.

He leaned against the wooden barrier and called out the warning,
"Fifteen minutes, luv. And then I’m coming in."

He grinned to himself as he heard her grumble quietly from the other
side of the door.
 
 

Willow leaned against the office door and watched as Angel pointed at a
bit of information on the computer monitor in front of him. Spike
looked up from behind his sire’s shoulder and smiled over at the
redhead.

"You’ve been gone all afternoon, pet," he spoke softly as she entered
the room. "Where have you been?"

Settling herself into the chair on the other side of the desk, she
looked from Spike to Angel for a moment before answering the question,
"I’ve been out job hunting."

"You have a job. Here," Angel reminded her.

"Charity," she snapped. "I don’t need--"

"It isn’t charity, and you know it," the dark vampire told her.
"Cordelia’s got these files so screwed up I can’t find a damn thing I’m
looking for. You’re doing me a favor by getting this mess straightened
out."

She eyed him coldly, "The only thing worse than being thrown a bone is
being *patronized* at the same time."

Spike and Angel exchanged a glance before the blonde vampire asked once
more, "Where have you been?"

"I told you. Job hunting."

"You went back to that pub you worked at before," he said.

Her eyes widened in surprise, "How the hell did you know that?"

"I had Doyle follow you," Angel admitted.

"Oh, isn’t that sweet? Nice to know I’m trusted," she snapped.

"I’d be a fool to trust you," he remarked bluntly. "After all, you have
a history of running off."

She shrugged off the comment, "I got my old job back. I start tonight."

"Like bloody hell," Spike replied. "No way are you spending your nights
being groped by a lot of drunken sods."

"I can take care of myself," she asserted hotly and shoved herself up
onto her feet. "I start tonight. So either get used to the idea, or go
to hell."

Spike looked at his sire as the redhead stomped out of the room.

"She’s regaining her feet," Angel said.

"And that’s supposed to be a good thing?" Spike questioned dubiously.

The darker vampire shook his head, "She worked there before. She knows
that side of town is dangerous."

"What am I supposed to do about it? Lock her up in a room again?" Spike
dragged his hands through his hair. "Bloody hell, I thought we were
making progress."

Angel placed a hand on his childe’s shoulder, "You are. It’s only been
a couple of weeks since you got her out of Sunnydale, Spike. There are
a lot of issues she hasn’t dealt with, yet. And she doesn’t want to.
There’s still a huge part of her that wants you to give up. She’s
challenging you."

Spike forced a sigh from his dead lungs, "One minute, I think she’s
finally opening up, and the next minute, I think I haven’t gotten
anywhere."

"She’ll probably never be the Willow she was before she took off. She’s
been hurt too badly. It’s changed her."

"I don’t want her to go backward," the blonde vampire told him. "I like
her strong. Hell, I even like her defiance. I just wish she didn’t
throw it at me."

"She only throws it at you when she feels weak. You get to her, on a
level that makes her very uncomfortable. She loves you. Part of her
wants to give you everything, but another part hates herself for
feeling that way. It’s what got her hurt to begin with--with Oz first,
and then with the people who care about her. You just have to hang in
there with her until she realizes that loving you isn’t a weakness."

Spike nodded sullenly and left the office to find his redhead. He
found her in the storage room at the back of Angle’s apartment. The two
vampires had hauled out the old boxes and crates that had been left
there long before Angel had moved in and had converted the squarish
room into a bedroom. Willow was rummaging through a dresser, picking
out
something to wear to wait tables at the pub. She flashed the briefest
of glances at Spike as he came into the room and sat down on the bed.

"Willow, you can’t go to work there," he said.

"I told you I can take care of myself," she barked back.

"I know you can. But people who take care of themselves don’t spend the
wee hours of the morning in a part of the city that they know to be
dangerous."

She shrugged, "I did it before. Nothing happened to me."

"You were damned lucky," he told her. "I’m not going to let you do
this."

"Meaning you’re going to lock me up again if I don’t do what you say?"
she asked bitterly.

He reached for her, tearing the clothing out of her hands and pulling
her down to sit next to him, "I don’t want to do that. Willow, I’m not
trying to order your life. I want you to be safe. You’re smart enough
to recognize that. Stop playing this stupid game."

"Game?" she spat back. "You think this is a game?"

"You bloody well know it is," his voice rose with his temper. "You
don’t have to prove anything to me, or to anyone else! I’m not trying
to push you around. I’m not trying to be a bastard who just wants to
tell you what to do. I love you, damn it. I just want you to be
sensible."

She breathed in heavily, visibly calming herself, "I wish you wouldn’t
do that."

"Do what?"

"Care," she answered. "I don’t want you to."

"Why not? Because you don’t? You don’t, do you? You don’t care whether
or not you get hurt, not physically, anyway. How can you feel that way
about yourself?"

"Because I hate who I am."

"Don’t say that," he murmured.

"Why not? You asked," she pointed out. "Why can’t you see that all I
really want is to crawl into a hole and be left alone? I tried it the
other way. I tried all happy and hopeful, and we both know what that
got me. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to care."

"But you do care," he argued. "And you do feel. You love me. You’ve
said so."

"I--I do," she admitted, standing and turning away from him. "But I
don’t want to."

Spike moaned softly and rose to stand behind her, turning her to face
him and pulling her hard against him. "Why not?"

"Because it scares the hell out of me. Because you love me back, and
people who love each other only end up hurting each other."

"They don’t have to," he told her. "Look, you had one terrible
experience. You had your heart broken. People face that everyday. But
they don’t all crawl inside themselves and shut the rest of the world
out. You’ve been wearing your hurt like it’s a medal of honor. You’ve
let it define everything that you are. Don’t you think that’s a bit
obsessive?"

"You’re one to talk," she mumbled against his chest.

He laughed softly, "Yeah, so I know whereof I speak. But I got over
Dru, didn’t I? I fell in love with you, and do you think you haven’t
hurt me, about a thousand times or so, since then?"

She pulled back slightly and looked up at him, "I know I have. I don’t
mean to--"

"Like hell you don’t," he contended. "You’ve tried everything you can
think of to push me away. But I’m still right here, luv. I’m not trying
to brush off what you’ve been through. I know how much you’ve been
hurt. But you started to move past it, just a little, before we left
Sunnyhell. And I thought things were getting better after we got here."

"I thought so, too, but here you are, telling me what I can and can’t
do--again."

"Don’t be an ass. You know bloody well that taking that job is a damned
idiotic idea. I don’t even understand why you went back there. Angel
meant it when he said he needs your help here, and even if you don't
want to work for him, there are a lot of other jobs in this city that
would be a hell of a lot safer than that one. Why the hell are you
intentionally trying to get yourself hurt? If you really hate yourself
that much, then do something about it, but don’t expect me to stand
back and watch you get hurt." He turned away from her and reached for
the telephone on the night stand and held the receiver out to her.
"Now, call the pub and tell them you’re not taking that job."

She glared at him for a moment before turning wordlessly on her heel
and stalking out of the room. Spike grumbled and slammed down the phone
before following after her. She flopped down on an armchair in the
living room, and he shot her a look before going to the phone and
rifiling through the phone book.

"What are you doing?" the redhead asked.

"If you won’t, I will," he informed her as he stabbed out the number
with his finger and waited for someone at the pub to pick up.

"Don’t you dare!" she shouted and scrambled to her feet as Angel came
into the room to see what was going on..

Spike pinned her with a steely stare as he spoke into the phone, "Yeah.
About the redheaded chit you hired this afternoon--"

"Spike!" she barked out threateningly.

He swatted at her hand as she tried to pluck the receiver away from
him, "Yeah, that’s the one. She won’t be taking that job after all.
She’s madly in love with this bloke who doesn’t fancy having her cute
little ass pinched by anyone other than him....Yeah, I’m serious...So
she’s giving up the job and leaving the groping to me--I mean him."

He dropped the phone unceremoniously back into its cradle and turned to
find Willow gaping at him, her cheeks flaming red.

"You--you--you ass!" she hissed.

Angel snorted as she brushed past him and stormed out of the room, and
Spike raised an eyebrow and looked over at him, "How did I do, Dad?"

"Not bad," he grinned. "Well, are you just going to stand there?"

Spike’s smug expression gave way to confusion

"Go find her and kiss her," Angel suggested with an impatient sigh.

A wide smile broke across his childe’s handsome face, and he gave Angel
a quick pat on the shoulder as he took off after Willow.
 
 
 

Spike dropped down beside Willow on the stairs outside Angel’s
building. The redhead pointedly looked the other way, refusing to
acknowledge his presence.

"Mad at me are you?" Spike asked softly.

"And this surprises you?" her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I’m not going to apologize," he told her.

"As if I expected you would," she shot back. "After all, why should
what I want make any difference to you?"

"Oh, knock it the hell off," he grumbled. "That song is so old it was
recorded on parchment. Would you really prefer that I not give a damn?
Just let you run off to that dump of a bar and get yourself raped or
worse? I love you, Willow. I care about you, even if you don’t care
about yourself. If that makes me a prick, well, I’ve been a prick all
my
unlife."

"You aren’t a prick," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that, pet?" he asked, though his keen ears had heard her
quite clearly.

She sighed and stared down at her own hands, "I said you’re not a
prick. I just wish..."

"What? You wish what?"

"I just wish you’d stop making all my decisions for me."

"Willow, your idea of making your own decisions invariably involves
doing things that are going to get you hurt," he told her.

She bristled slightly, "That’s your interpretation, not mine. And even
if it’s true, they’re *my* decisions to make."

"And what? I’m supposed to sit back and watch you self-destruct? I love
you, pet. How could you expect me to--"

"Because it’s *my* choice to make! *Mine.* Not yours!" she insisted.

"I get it. So, if I decide to go out for a stroll in the morning,
you’ll hold the door open for me?" he asked her. "No arguments? No
trying to stand in my way?"

She shook her head impatiently, "That isn’t the same thing."

"Sure, it is," he contended. "If that’s my decision, you should just
let me go."

She glared over at him. Her angry looked became puzzled as he suddenly
stood.

"Right, then," he nodded and turned toward the door. "I’ll wake you for
breakfast."

She scrambled to her feet and hurried inside after him, reaching for
his arm as he moved rapidly toward the elevator, "Where are you going?"

"To bed. I’ve got an early morning ahead of me. Short, but early."

"You won’t do it," she told him.

He turned to her, "Watch me."

The conviction in his eyes sent a bolt of desperation rocketing through
the small redhead, and she gripped his arm tighter, "Spike, you aren’t
serious! You can’t--"

"Why not? What the hell should you care? You make your decisions. I’ll
make mine. At least I won’t have to be around when Angel orders your
casket."

Willow was trembling now, visibly shaking, "Please, Spike. You’re
scaring me."

His voice softened, though none of the determination eased from his
eyes, "I know the feeling, pet. There’s one thing I won’t miss,
anyway."

"You can’t leave me. I couldn’t--" her voice broke as a big tear
escaped from her eye and rolled down her cheek. "Why are you doing
this? Why would you want to hurt me that way?"

"Can you hear yourself, luv? Do you even know what you’re saying?" he
asked. "Don’t you think what you’re doing to yourself hurts me just as
much? You know, if you’re really determined to fuck up your life,
you’re eventually going to succeed. Even locked doors aren’t going to
keep you from it if that’s what you’re hell-bent on doing."

Willow sighed loudly and shrugged her shoulders, "All right. Okay. I
get it."

"Do you?" he questioned, his voice sincere. "Tell me."

She nodded her head slowly, "I know you’re only trying to protect
me--from myself, usually. If you really decided to take a walk in the
sun, I’d do everything in my power to stop you from doing it. Because I
couldn’t stand the thought of not having you in my life. I know you
only do these things because you care about me."

"Love, pet, the emotion is love," he corrected her softly.

Her eyes met his as she continued, "I just get so angry when you treat
me this way. It was people deciding what I needed that started this
whole thing off to begin with. Remember?"

"I remember," he answered. "But their motives were selfish. Mine
aren’t. Which, when you think about it for a minute, is seriously
twisted."

Willow couldn’t help grinning at the truly bewildered expression on the
vampire’s handsome face, "I just want to be able to control my own
life, Spike. That’s all."

"I don’t make all your decisions for you," he argued. "Hell, you’ve
spent lots of days going off to Lucifer-knows-where with Cordelia. You
don’t have to answer to me. You don’t have to tell me everything you do
every minute you’re away. But when you decide to do something that’s
obviously going to get you hurt, you can’t seriously expect me to look
the other way."

"I guess not," she conceded wearily. "Goddess, I get so tired of these
fights."

He smiled and took one of her hands, wrapping his own gently around it
and pulling her closer to him, "So do I, pet. Most of these fights
aren’t really about me, you know. They’re about you."

"I know," she said quietly. "I think I scare me more than you do."

"Would you really have gone back to that pub? Or were you hoping I’d
stop you?"

Her eyes met his, "You think I was testing you?"

"Were you?"

"I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I’m afraid that you’ll stop caring. Or
maybe I need to know you’ll stop me if I go too far. I was getting
comfortable where I was when you found me here. Comfortably numb. I
didn’t have to feel or think or care if I hurt anyone--even myself.
Maybe I want to prove to myself that if I make things difficult enough,
you’ll give up and leave."

"Or maybe you want me to prove to you that no matter how difficult you
make things, I won’t," he countered, his voice growing softer. "I won’t
Willow. I promise, you’ll never hurt like that again, not even by your
own hand. I won’t let it happen."

She moved in closer to him and rested her head on his chest,
"Sometimes, I’d give anything to erase the past few months. Erase all
the hurting and the running and the fighting. Just go back to that
blissfully ignorant girl I used to be."

"Would you give me up?" he asked, his lips brushing against her hair.

Her gaze returned to him, and she shook her head slightly and
whispered, "No."

He gave her a small smile as his hand moved around to cradle her head.
He pulled her to him and kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers
for a very long moment.

"I guess that’s something, huh?" she asked, her mouth mere inches from
his.

"Yeah, that’s something," he nodded, smiling softly, and drew her lips
back to his.
 
 
 

It was just after sunset when Angel emerged from the shower and went to
his bedroom to dress before going to the kitchen to warm a mug of
blood. Moving past the living room, he stopped and looked in, mildly
surprised to find Spike stretched out on the sofa with a sleeping
Willow snuggled comfortably close to him. The couple had still been
quietly talking when Angel had finally gone to bed at dawn, and
apparently, neither one of them had made it any further than where he
had left them all those hours ago.

He entered the kitchen and grabbed a bag from the fridge, emptying its
contents into a mug and shoving it into the microwave before plopping
silently down into a chair at the table. Although Spike had not
confided in him what exactly had transpired after Willow had stormed
out of the apartment last night, it was obvious to him that his childe
and the redhead had turned some kind of corner. Willow had been more
relaxed than he had seen her since they had found her outside the pub
all those weeks ago. Whatever Spike had said to her had certainly
seemed to sink in, and he had happily kept her close to him for the
remainder of the evening.

Angel shoved his chair back as the microwave beeped annoyingly. Leaning
against the counter, he drank his liquid breakfast and wondered when
his own thoughts had suddenly taken such an unexpected detour. Willow
had always been the light of the gang that so loyaly followed Buffy in
her fight on the hellmouth. In his mind, she had always been the most
selfless, the most giving of all of them. And it had saddened him
deeply when her life had taken such an unhappy turn.

Even after she had shut herself away from everyone she had ever held
dear to her, she kept on giving, albeit it unwittingly. She had,
essentially, given him back his childe--a feat he would have thought as
impossible as the restoration of his soul. But she had managed to do
both, restoring his capacity to love and care, and then restoring to
him the one man whom he had cared about for decades, supplying them
with a common goal on which to rebuild a hopelessly shattered
relationship.

"So when, exactly, did these feeling of friendship for the small woman
become something far deeper?" he wondered to himself as he took another
long swallow from the mug.

On the one hand, the metamorphosis of his feelings for Willow surprised
him. Their exchanges had never been anything other than that of
friends. She cared about him just as she had cared about the other
people in her life who were close to her. It was simply a part of her
nature. But she had never given him any indication that her feelings
went even remotely beyond cherished friendship. And neither, for that
matter, had he.

But over the past week, he had watched her struggle, sometimes
reluctantly, sometimes with a fierce determination. His heart had been
wrenched by what Willow had become when he had first met her on that
dark L.A. street. And he had watched the slow, painful process as she
began, with Spike’s patient help, to pick her way back through the
ruins of her life.

Friendship and concern had transformed into deep admiration as Angel
had watched her slowly, uncertainly, reach out to Spike. At what point
in time that admiration had grown into love, the dark vampire didn’t
really know. Perhaps the progression had been such a natural thing that
there had been no cause for him to focus on it while it was occurring.
But now, he couldn’t deny his feelings for her, at least not to
himself. If only he knew what to do about them.

Willow’s heart belonged to Spike, that much was plain. The blonde
vampire had been her tormentor, her confidant, her best friend, her
tether, all the while she was struggling for freedom from her
self-imposed prison. Angel knew she had no idea how he felt about her
now, and the last thing he wanted to do was to throw her into another
emotional maelstrom.

And Spike. Spike loved the little redhead more than any creature who
had ever existed. It was there, in his eyes, every time he looked at
her. He had ached for her, laughed with her, yelled at her, cried with
her, given everything he possessed to pull her back to him. Although,
as his sire, Angel had every right to demand what he desired, he knew
it would destroy his childe, destroy everything they had rebuilt, until
there would be no possibility of ever repairing it. His callous, cruel
disregard for Spike’s longing for Drusilla, the way he had dangled her
desire for his sire in front of the blonde vampire, tormenting him,
tearing at his dead heart for decades, made the souled vampire’s cold
flesh crawl. He could never put his beloved childe through that anguish
again. He could never subject Willow to being treated like a pawn,
ripped away from her lover simply because his sire could do so. Forced
to share herself with a man she gave no indication of wanting.

Even if Spike were to subjugate himself to his sire’s rightful claim,
and Angel had no delusions that he would ever do so, it would only
propel the young woman back into the angry hole of betrayal and despair
from which she was only now finally finding her way free. And the
damage would be permanent. She would never forgive him. Never recover.
Never be the same woman again. He couldn’t do it to her. Couldn’t do it
to his childe. He loved them both too much.

Swallowing the last of the blood, he castigated himself for dwelling on
a longing that could never be fulfilled. Going after Willow under any
pretense would surely result in the loss of the redhead, not to mention
his childe. He was determined not to let that happen. If he couldn’t
have Willow, at least he could have Willow here. With a sigh of defeat,
he ran his fingers through his dark hair and lowered the emptied mug
into the sink before walking silently back to the living room.
 
 
 

From the sofa, Spike stirred imperceptibly as he sensed the presence of
his sire. He watched through lowered lashes as Angel crossed the room
and sank down into the armchair across from him. The darker vampire was
so consumed by his silent musings, he was unaware that his childe was
watching while his own eyes traveled the length of the sleeping woman’s
body. Spike knew his sire well, arguably better than anyone else, and
he
recognized the look behind the vampire’s dark eyes. His arm tightened
instinctively around Willow’s waist as he opened his eyes fully and
fixed them on Angel. The older vampire returned the discerning gaze for
a moment before breaking eye contact to look down at his hands.

"Bloody hell," Spike grumbled quietly, not wishing to wake his sleeping
love. "Angel, damn it--"

"It isn’t what you think," he answered softly.

"The hell it isn’t. You used to look at Dru that way, before you drove
her out of her bleedin’ mind. I lost her to you every time you walked
into the room. I’ll be damned if I’m losing Willow. To hell with your
right of sire bullshit. I’ll fight you for her if I--"

"Spike, I’m not Angelus," he spoke calmly, trying to ease the tension
pulling at the blonde vampire’s body. "I wouldn’t do that to you. Or to
Willow. She’s far above that."

"Damned straight," he nodded, his anger slightly mollified. "Hell,
she’s far above me, but as long as she hasn’t figured that out, I’m not
going to tell her."

Angel couldn’t help chuckling, though he felt an undeniable pang
flutter through his still heart as their quiet voices caused Willow to
stir and then resettle a little more snugly into Spike’s arms.

"So, what are you going to do?" Spike asked hesitantly.

"I don’t know," he answered, his voice laced with sadness. "She’s
already been through too damned much. She’s had enough turmoil for one
lifetime, and she loves you. I’m not even sure I have the right to tell
her how I feel. I know I don’t have the right to feel this way about
her."

"Well, you’ve been up to your arse in this almost as long as I have,"
Spike admitted reluctantly. "I suppose I can understand how you’d fall
in love with her. I wouldn’t have gotten her back without your help.
But Angel, I can’t--I don’t want to--"

"I know," his sire nodded. "I won’t do that to you. I mean it. I love
you, too, you know."

Spike’s eyes prickled with tears, and his gaze darted self-consciously
away from Angel. Angel grinned at his childe’s obvious discomfort.

"Want some breakfast?" he offered, pushing himself up onto his feet.

"Yeah. Thanks," Spike answered, but Angel was already on his way out of
the room.

The blonde vampire settled back and took the soft hand Willow had
draped across his firm chest and lifted it to his lips to kiss it
gently. He looked back at the vacated chair and groaned quietly to
himself, knowing that what Angel was so determined to leave unresolved
didn’t stand a rat’s ass in hell of staying that way.
*************************
"Spike?"

"Yeah, baby?" the vampire asked as his eyes remained focused on the
newspaper he was reading.

"What’s wrong with Angel?"

The edges of the paper crumpled as his hands tightened around it, and
he lowered it to see her standing in front of him, "What makes you
think there’s anything wrong?"

"He’s barely spoken three sentences to me all night," she answered.
"And then he just took off without a word--"

"He and Doyle went out chasing a vision. Some tart on a street corner
somewhere," he answered.

She shook her head, "And he didn’t ask you to go? Spike, he’s been even
more quiet than usual, and I know he’s avoiding me. Have I done
something wrong?"

"No, luv," he assured her, dropping the newspaper to reach for her
hands. "It’s nothing like that."

"But it’s something, isn’t it? You know, don’t you?"

He looked silently up at her, obviously uncomfortable with the whole
discussion.

"Why won’t you tell me?"

He stood and reached for her arms, "Willow, I can’t. It--"

"It’s about me, isn’t it? You won’t tell me," she said, backing away
from him. "You don’t want me to know. You can’t trust me, still. You’re
shutting me out--"

"No," he answered earnestly. "Don’t. Don’t move away, luv. Come here.
It isn’t like that."

"I’ve don’t something. You’ve given up on me. Please don’t give up on
me," she pleaded, her eyes watering with tears. "Whatever I did,
I’ll--"

He moved quickly, grasping at her arms and pulling her hard against
him, "Hush. Sweetheart, no, it’s nothing like that. I promise. I’m
here. I’m not shutting you out. I’m not letting you go."

He cradled her against him, rocking her slowly, smoothing her hair with
a gentle hand, brushing his lips over the top of her head as she
trembled against him, clinging to him.

"It’s all right. I promise," he whispered. "I promise."

"Why won’t you tell me?" she asked, the tears echoing in her voice.

"I can’t, luv. It’s personal. If Angel wants you to know, he’ll tell
you. He didn’t want me to know, I just stumbled over it. But it’s all
right, baby. You’re all right. I promise."

"It’s taken so long," she murmured. "Don’t stop loving me. Please."

"Never," he hushed her. "Never. I love you."

He drew away to cup her face in his hands, brushing his lips over the
salty tears on her cheeks, tasting her soft lips, nudging them open
with his tongue. Willow melted into him as he kissed her deeply. Her
fingers buried themselves in his silky hair as he lifted her into his
arms and carried her down the hallway to the small bedroom at the back,
his mouth still on hers as he toed the door closed.
 
 

Angel entered the office and dropped his mud-caked jacket over the back
of the chair, switched off the warmer under Cordelia’s most recent pot
of sludge, and made his way down to the apartment. The demon that had
been stalking prostitutes hadn’t been a particularly hard kill, but it
had been a messy one, and now the tired vampire just wanted to bask
under a hot shower and stumble into bed.

"With Willow," the words flashed through his mind before he could
bridle them. He scowled as he shoved the thought out of his head. For
years, he had thought of her as nothing more than a friend. Her warmth
and her loyalty had always endeared her to him, but it had been Spike
who had really discovered the treasure that was...Willow.

He stopped as he came to the end of the hallway, her tantalizing scent
permeating the air around him. Willow’s scent, mixed with that of his
childe, gripped him, rooting him to the spot. The unmistakable
fragrance that was uniquely hers had become a soothing essence ever
since she had moved in with them, but this was the first time it had
been mingled with the heavy scent of her sex. Hers and his childe’s.

He walked soundlessly to the closed door at the far end of the hallway
and, with a slight twinge of guilt, opened it just slightly. His
superior vision easily pierced through the inky darkness and focused on
the sleeping couple curled around one another in the bed across the
room. One feminine thigh had snaked out from under the covers to wrap
around the muscular leg of her lover. Spike’s hand rested on the bare
plane of her back, his fingers laced through the silky strands of her
fiery hair. Willow’s chest rose and fell rhythmically, her head nestled
comfortably just under the blonde vampire’s neck, his lips pressed ever
so lightly against her porcelain forehead. She was finding her way back
to him, the path slow and torturous, but ultimately true, and the
inescapable realization was at once comforting and agonizing to the
tall, dark vampire.

Angel closed the door and leaned back against the wall, fighting the
feeling of overwhelming loneliness, of sorrow, of possibilities too
late perceived and forever lost. He moved back down the hallway on legs
he could not feel and pushed open the bathroom door. His hands moved
automatically, without conscious effort, as he peeled off his clothes
and slid into the shower. He turned on the water, and the hot spray hit
his unnaturally cold body as the first tears began to fall.
<8<8<8<8<8
Willow watched as Angel rose from the chair and started to leave the
living room.

"Hypocrite," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

The vampire turned and looked back at her, confusion etched across his
face, "What?"

"Hypocrite," she repeated more loudly. "You’ve been ranting at me for
weeks about facing my emotions. Being honest with myself. Opening
myself up again. So, why is it that none of that seems to apply to
you?"

"Willow, I don’t know what you’re--"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand and rose to cross the room,
stopping directly in front of him, "Don’t give me that. I know
something’s wrong. How could I not know? You can hardly stand to be in
the same room with me. Whatever it is that I’ve done that you find so
repulsive, you can tell me. I can handle it."

He moaned softly and took her hands in his, "You haven’t done
anything."

"You expect me to believe that? You hardly speak to me. You don’t want
to be anywhere near me. I guess I can’t really blame you. I know I
haven't made things very easy for anyone. I mean, I understand if
you’re just completely sick of having to--"

"No," he gripped her hands more tightly in his. "You know I don’t feel
that way."

"I don’t know anything anymore. Not when it comes to you. If you want
me to go--"

"That’s the last thing I want. I know I’ve been distant. I know you
don’t understand. I’m sorry. I do care about you--too much."

"Too much?" her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why too much? Because I
take up too much of your time? I take you away from things that are
more important than--"

"Nothing’s more important than you are. I love--" he clamped his mouth
shut, too late, and felt her tugging her hands free.

"You...you love..." her eyes widened as she took a step back, shaking
her head. "You can’t. Angel, you can’t."

He closed his eyes, took an unneeded breath, "I can’t help it. I didn’t
mean to. We’ve been through so much, and I--"

She raised her hands in a plea for silence, "I can’t listen to this. I
love Spike. You know I love Spike. Oh, hell. Spike. He knows, doesn’t
he? He wouldn’t tell me. He said...oh damn."

"Willow," he reached out for her. "I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to--"

"No," she murmured, brushing his hands away and stepping quickly around
him.

She took off towards the elevator, nearly colliding with Spike as he
opened the gate to step out. He put his hands on her shoulders, felt
her trembling slightly.

"Baby? What’s wrong?"

"You knew, didn’t you? About Angel."

"He told you," Spike concluded, his eyes dark with worry as he watched
her closely, trying to gauge her reaction to his sire’s profession.

"Take me out of here, please," she whispered desperately. "Anywhere. I
can’t be here right now. Just--"

"Come on," he folded an arm around her waist and pulled her into the
elevator.

Angel stepped into his childe’s line of vision and mouthed the words,
"I’m sorry," as the metal grating clanged shut. Spike nodded in
response and clutched Willow a little more closely to him as the
elevator began to ascend.
 
 
 
 

Spike walked silently next to Willow, gripping her hand, occasionally
rubbing his thumb over its soft flesh, giving her time to deal with the
initial emotional overload of his sire’s sudden revelation. After
several blocks, the redhead’s pace slowed and then stopped as she
turned to sit down on a set of steps leading up to the entrance to a
nondescript building. He lowered himself next to her, his thigh
brushing lightly against hers, and placed his arm over her shoulders.

"Could I possibly have reacted any worse?" she muttered as she propped
her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. "After
everything he’s done, I--"

"Willow," Spike gently drew her hands away. "He’s helped us both.
You’ve always thought of him as a friend. You had no way of knowing his
feelings had changed."

"How long have you known?" she asked him.

"Not long. That night we felt asleep on the sofa, remember?"

She nodded. "I don’t want to hurt him. I just don’t understand why he
thinks he loves me. Maybe it’s just a reaction to spending so much time
together. I mean, he’s Buffy’s. He’s always been Buffy’s. He can’t
really feel this way about me."

"People change, pet. Feelings change, and people move on. The slayer
has. Why shouldn’t Angel?" Spike questioned.

"Then you’re okay with this? You don’t care if he--"

"No, I’m not okay with it. I’m not going to share you with him. I told
him that. But I’m not angry with him."

The redhead sighed softly, "I hate hurting him. I love him, as a
friend, but not the way I love you. What are we going to do, Spike? How
can we stay here now, if he even wants us to stay now that he knows how
I feel?"

"You’re going to have to talk this out with him, pet," he answered.

"You don’t want to leave, do you?"

"I’ve missed Angel. I thought I hated him, hated the soul that I
thought made him weak. But now that I’ve had a taste of what he battles
every day of his existence, I can’t feel that way. I don’t know how
he’s survived so long. Sometimes I wish someone would stake me and put
me out of the agony of living with this damned chip in my brain."

Willow’s eyes filled with dread at his gruff admission. He smiled and
curled his hand around the back of her neck, brushing his lips lightly
over hers.

"I love you," he assured her. "You’re the one thing that makes me want
to go on. The point is, as much as I thought I hated Angel, he helped
me get back to you. Angelus would never have done that for me--for us.
And he certainly never would have given up his right as sire to have
you, too. Angel promised he wouldn’t, and I believe him. Makes it
pretty damned difficult to hate him, now."

A fleeting smile passed over her face until her gaze drifted down to
his hand wrapped around hers, "Will you come with me, when I talk to
him? I don’t know if I can do it by myself. I--I need you."

Spike chuckled softly, "That wasn’t so bad, was it? Admitting you need
me?"

"I’ve admitted it to myself lots of times over the past weeks. I just
wasn’t sure I wanted you to know. Weakness and all that stuff. But you
knew anyway, didn’t you?"

"I hoped," he nodded, gripping her hand and pulling her up onto her
feet. "Come on, luv. Let’s find Angel."

Hesitantly, she allowed him to pull her to his side as they turned and
retraced their steps back to Angel’s apartment.
 
 
 

Angel watched as Willow sat down beside Spike, her back straight, her
eyes wandering to the darker vampire before uneasily darting away
again. She wriggled a little closer to Spike, and Angel couldn’t help
the grin that curled his lips ever so slightly as she unconsciously
sought the reassuring comfort of his childe’s proximity. Although her
obvious discomfort over having to face him again pained him, Angel was
pleased by her natural reaction to turn to Spike for support. It was
what he had wanted, what he had worked so hard with his childe to
re-establish in the young woman’s heart.

Now, he only hoped that his ill-timed and obviously unwanted confession
hadn’t created a breach between himself and Willow that could not be
spanned. He had never meant to put voice to those thoughts. He had
never intended to burden her with that declaration after she had just
pulled herself free of the rubble that had been her life.

Blurting out those words had been selfish and foolish, he admonished
himself. It had never been necessary that she ever find out how he
felt. He hadn’t for a minute deluded himself into believing that she
would return his feelings. And the fact that he loved her was
secondary, at most. The only thing that truly mattered was that she was
happy. He had no doubt that, for her, Spike was the only man necessary
to make that happen. And he had. It was there, in her expression, in
the way she reached for his hand, in the way her arms opened to him
whenever he approached her.

Pulling himself away from his thoughts, he looked over at the redhead
and spoke softly, "Willow, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said--what I
said."

She shook her head, "I kind of backed you into a corner. It’s just...I
had no idea...."

"I know. There was no reason that you should. I never gave you any
indication that I felt that way."

"Well, maybe you don’t," she suggested, her tone almost hopeful. "I
mean, maybe it’s just a reaction to what we’ve all been through
together. I haven’t made things easy, and it’s all been pretty intense.
We’ve been friends for...well, sometimes, it seems like since forever.
Maybe that’s all this really is."

"Could be," he responded.

Willow saw the quick glance that passed between Spike and his sire, and
she knew that wasn’t the truth. Her gaze dropped to her lap, and
Spike’s hand drifted gently along the back of her head, stroking her
hair soothingly.

"We could leave, if that would be better for you," she offered, her
voice barely more than a whisper.

Angel shifted to the edge of his chair, "That isn’t what I want, unless
it’s what the two of you do. Willow, this isn’t your problem. It’s
mine. They’re my feelings. I can deal with them without you going
away."

"How can you say it isn’t my problem?" she asked. "I care about you. I
don’t want you to hurt. And you and Spike--"

"Will be fine. I’m not going to act on this. I’ve promised him that."

"But it isn’t fair to you. You’ve been alone for so long. Since Buffy
and you--"

"Listen to me," he interrupted her. "I won’t let you take this on
yourself. I certainly won’t let you drag a history with Buffy, which
you had nothing to do with, into this. What if I do love you? I can’t
be with you any more than I could be with her. The problem’s the same
in both situations. I had to give her up, leave her behind. It was the
only way either one of us were going to be able to continue to exist. I
don’t want to lose you, too. I don’t want to lose your friendship, and
I don’t want to give up my childe, again. I can handle this. I promise.
I’ve gotten pretty good at--"

"Self-denial," she finished bitterly. "You shouldn’t have to do all of
this all by yourself."

"But I do," he told her, standing and dragging a hand through his hair.
"It’s the nature of the curse, isn’t it? It isn’t your fault any more
than it was Buffy’s. There’s nothing either of you could do about it.
Besides, even if the curse didn’t exist, I’m still not the one you
want."

Willow remained silent, unable to argue the point, and Spike pulled her
slight body back against him, resting her in the crook of his arm.

Angel’s eyes shifted to Spike, "You’re being awfully quiet about this."

"You know my feelings," he answered. "You two have to work this out
between yourselves. I’ll go wherever Willow goes."

"I don’t want either of you to go anywhere," Angel said. "Willow, I can
handle this."

"But won’t it be painful for you?" she asked.

"Truthfully, I suppose so," he nodded. "But it would be more painful if
you left. I really don’t want to watch the two of you walk out of here.
You trust me, don’t you?"

"You’re one of two people," she smiled softly.

"Then trust me to know what I'm saying. I want you here, both of you."

"But if it gets to be too much--"

"It won't," he promised.

"But if it does," she persisted firmly.

"Then I'll say so," he agreed, his eyes sparkling behind a small smile.

Spike released his hold on her as she rose and went to Angel. She put
her arms around him, and he returned the gentle hug, looking beyond her
shoulder to his childe.
 
 
 
 

Spike swung hard at the demon, sending him sprawling onto the pavement,
and Angel plunged the sword into the creature’s chest, killing it
instantly. Dropping the weapon, he whirled around and raced to Willow,
who was crumpled against the wall of a building, cupping her hand over
the wound the demon had inflicted in her side. Angel eyed the dark
blood oozing between her fingers, and she bit her lip and grimaced as
he gently pulled her hand away to better inspect the bleeding gash.

Caressing her cheek with gentle fingers, he looked into her eyes and
smiled reassuringly, "You’ll be okay, Willow."

She nodded and looked around him with a slightly panicked expression
"Where’s Spike? Is he--"

"Right here, luv," the blonde vampire spoke as he knelt down beside
her.

She reached for him, and he took her into his arms. A brief flicker of
pain passed over Angel's face, and he rose and took a step back as the
redhead clung to his childe.

"You aren’t hurt?" she asked softly.

"No," Spike answered as he helped her onto her feet and took her weight
against his side. "Let’s get you home."

He placed a soft kiss on her lips and began to guide her out of the
alley and toward the street. Doyle and Cordelia exchanged a quick look
as they fell into step beside Angel and followed Willow and Spike to
the car. By the time they reached Angel’s apartment, Willow was pale
and breathing heavily. Angel placed a hand on his childe’s shoulder as
they stepped out of the elevator.

"Get her into bed. I’ll go get something to clean that wound."

Spike nodded and lifted the redhead into his arms and carried her to
the bedroom. He laid her back against the headboard of the bed and
unfastened the bottom buttons on her shirt, pulling the fabric aside to
run his eyes over her wound.

"It’s not very deep," she told him. "Just hurts a little."

Spike brushed her hair from her face and looked into her eyes a moment
before leaning forward and taking her lips in a slow gentle kiss. From
the doorway, Angel cleared his throat, and the couple pulled away from
one another as he entered, carrying a basin of warm water, some
ointment, and bandages. These, he set on the night stand. Spike took
the washcloth from the basin and wrung it out before pressing it
carefully against the gash on Willow’s right side. She gasped slightly
and gripped his bicep with her small hand, and he held the warm wet
cloth to the wound as his other arm snaked around her waist and pulled
her close to him and nuzzled her forehead. Angel smiled and smoothed a
hand over the back of his childe’s head.

"I’ll be in the living room if you need me," he said quietly.

Spike nodded gratefully, and his sire went to the door, turning back to
watch the younger vampire as his lips found Willow’s once again.
Pulling the door shut, Angel closed his eyes and let out a soft
unneeded breath before heading off down the short hallway.

"Is she okay?" Cordelia from the sofa asked as he entered the living
room.

"Yeah," he nodded, dropping his solid frame into an armchair.

Doyle looked over at him, "How about you?"

"I’m fine. No injuries."

"That isn’t what I meant."

Angel’s eyes met the half-demon’s stare, "I know."

"Look, mate--"

"Leave it, Doyle."

"Angel, listen to me--"

"I said, leave it!" the vampire barked and pushed himself up onto his
feet and strode out of the room.

"No injuries, my ass," Cordelia huffed as her eyes followed Angel. "How
long does he think he can go on like this? He should have let Willow
and Spike move out when they offered."

"You don’t really think that would have helped, do you?"

"No," she grudgingly conceded. "But at least he wouldn’t have had to
watch them all the time."

"Who exactly is it that you’re angry with?" he asked with a quirk of a
grin.

She scowled at him, "I’m mad because I can’t find anyone to be mad at.
I’ll just settle for you."

Doyle laughed softly, "Your humble punching bag, Princess. Flail away."

Cordelia grinned and leaned against his shoulder, "Sorry. It’s just
that, for once, I’d like to see Angel happy."
<8<8<8<8<8
The topic of discussion was sitting at his desk, alternately typing up
notes on the demon they had just killed and staring blankly at the
monitor. He would much rather have been sitting at Willow’s bedside.
The fear that his presence would only be an unwelcome intrusion
prevented him from going to her but did not prevent his mind from
imagining the scene behind the closed bedroom door. Spike’s gentle
hands tending to her wound, holding her comfortingly. His soft words
against her ear, lulling the tired woman to sleep. His lips tasting
hers as her eyes drifted shut. Angel snarled softly as he pushed the
images from his mind.

"She’s all right," Spike spoke softly from the open door.

Angel started slightly, not having heard the vampire’s approach, and
looked over at him mutely. Spike studied his sire’s face for a long
moment before stepping inside and sitting down in the chair in front of
the desk.

"She’s asleep?" Angel finally asked.

"Just," he nodded, "Angel, I don’t think--"

"You should be with her."

His childe leaned forward and reached an arm across the desk to curl
his fingers gently around the elder vampire’s wrist, "I’ll go back to
her, in a moment. We need to talk."

"You said she’s all right--"

"She is," Spike assured him. "It’s you I’m worried about."

"I’m not--"

"Angel," the blonde vampire’s voice grew insistent. "This isn’t
working. I saw the look on your face when Willow hit that wall tonight.
I watched your eyes when you bent down to help her. I saw your reaction
when she reached for me, instead. We’re hurting you. And as much as I
would have enjoyed that not so long ago, I’m not enjoying it now."

"Spike, we’ve been through this," his sire responded. "I told you I can
handle it."

"But you’re not," he remarked. "You’re denying it. You’re avoiding it.
But you’re not handling it."

"You’re afraid I’ll take her. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?"
Angel asked. "You’re afraid my demon is going to assert itself, and
I’ll--"

Spike released Angel’s wrist and sat back in the chair, "I’m not
worried about that. I trust you. You gave me your word. You’ll keep it.
Bloody hell, we’re a trio, aren’t we?"

"What do you mean?"

"You’re making a path along the same trail we just pulled Willow away
from. Denial. Closing yourself off from your feelings, your needs. It
didn’t work for her. It won’t work for you."

Angel couldn't help smiling at his childe’s words, "Willow pretty much
accused me of the same thing. Called me a hypocrite."

Spike chuckled softly, "She has an absolute talent for calling a spade
a spade. Look, you showed me how to pull her out of that place. I
couldn’t have gotten to her, gotten her back, if you hadn’t been there
for me. My humanity has been stifled by this demon for so long, I have
to look to you to find it."

"I don’t know about that. You were doing all right without me," Angel
replied.

"To a point," the blonde vampire agreed. "But I lost her, didn’t I? And
I couldn’t have fixed it without your guidance. You taught me how to
reach inside her. To draw her out of herself and back to me. I learned
well, Dad. Don’t force me to come after you."

His sire smiled and pushed back his chair as he rose to his feet, "I’m
not denying anything, Spike. I love Willow. But she doesn’t love me.
Why should she? I never even considered her that way before I left
Sunnydale. You’re the one who discovered her. I never saw what she
really is until I looked at her through your heart. She belongs with
you. Considering the hell that’s been inflicted on you, I’d say you
deserve her."

"Me? Deserve Willow? Hardly. I’d say the only thing I deserve is the
hell that’s been inflicted on me."

Angel’s eyes darkened angrily as he rounded the desk, "I do not _ever_
want to hear those words out of your mouth again. I don’t give a damn
if you are a demon. What those bastards did to you is more barbaric
than anything you’ve ever done. What you are was not of your choosing.
You are what I made you. You’re my childe. If they wanted to crusade
against evil, I could hardly fault them for that. But they aren’t
crusading against it. They _are_ evil. Tampering with the existence of
beings that can’t help what they are. Stripping them of their means to
survive and then sitting back to study exactly how they’ll suffer
before they eventually die. But you didn’t die. You won’t die because I
taught you better than that. I knew when I chose you that you’d be a
childe worthy of eternity, but even I never realized just how worthy
you’d become. I shove aside my demon, most of the time. Slap it down,
shut it out, ignore it, as often as possible. But my demon is damned
proud of what you are, and there’s no one else on earth, in all my
centuries of existing, that I’d rather have by my side. So don’t you
_ever_ let me hear you demean yourself like that again."

Spike stared back at him, speechless, not bothering to brush away the
red tears that rimmed his eyes and slowly spilled over onto his cold
skin. Angel’s expression softened as he took in his childe’s stunned
reaction, and he cupped the younger vampire’s face in his large hands
and thumbed away the wet traces on his cheeks.

"When I helped you, I wasn’t just fighting for Willow," he continued,
his eyes holding Spike’s. "I was fighting for you, as well. Because you
need her, just as much as she needs you. And I love you. That’s never
changed. Even when we hated each other, I loved you. What my childe
needs, he’ll get. If you can’t get it for yourself because of what
those
pricks did to you, I’ll get it for you. I don’t want to lose you. I
won’t come between you and Willow. I’m handling this. I will handle
this."

Spike nodded silently, and Angel leaned forward and let his lips gently
brush against his childe’s before releasing him and stepping away.

"We’ve said what needed to be said. We won’t ever have this
conversation again," his sire spoke quietly as he returned to his desk
chair and sat down. "Go to bed. Willow needs you."

Spike remained still for moment. He opened his mouth as if to say
something, then closed it again and started for the door. He turned
back as he passed over the threshold and looked back at Angel.

"I love you, too," he said softly before disappearing around the
corner.
 
 

Spike’s eyes followed Willow’s movements as she began to prepare a
fresh pot of coffee. The redhead had suffered Cordelia’s muddy
simulation for weeks before finally commandeering the coffee-making
duties, much to everyone else’s relief. The vampire never tired of
watching his lover, even when she was occupied in activities as
unimportant as this. After months of dodging the fall-out of her
shattered life, seeing her absent-mindedly absorbed in more mundane
rituals was a welcome comfort.

Since the night she had returned to his bed for the first time, he
finally felt as if Willow’s feet had made contact with solid, sure
ground. Their love-making was sometimes gentle and slow, sometimes wild
and frenetic, but she was always, inarguably, there with him, one with
him, her soul burning itself into the shell where his own had once
resided, as their bodies entwined. The nightmares that had once dragged
her, sobbing, from sleep occurred with less and less frequency. From
time to time, she still reached for him in desperation, but the
uncertainty that shook her small body with hot tears was now much more
quickly soothed away.

Angel had been true to his word, giving the couple the time and space
they needed to slowly mend the tears in their relationship. If the
elder vampire’s absence was obvious to the redhead, she never mentioned
it. Whether her silence was one of relief or merely understanding
gratitude, Spike did not know. He hadn’t spoken to her of the
conversation he had shared with his sire only a few days ago in this
office, but its echoes continued to reverberate in his mind. Although
the darker vampire must have realized how much his childe had
appreciated his words, Spike doubted whether Angel realized just how
deeply they had affected him.

Losing his sire to the soul with which he had been cursed had been a
bitter bereavement to Spike. He had long ago resigned himself to the
estrangement, but he had never really moved past the feelings of
abandonment, however forced that abandonment may have been. Angel’s
immediate reaction to Spike’s distress when he thought he had lost his
redhead forever had blazed it’s way into the younger vampire’s dead
heart, beginning a healing that Spike never even dared hope he would
ever experience. Angel’s unwavering determination to guide Spike’s
attempts to win Willow back had reawakened emotions he had convinced
himself were long-dead.

Angel’s words, spoken with steely resolution just across this desk the
other day, replayed themselves in the blonde vampire’s head. His sire’s
hands on his face, the tenderly fleeting kiss, the reaffirmation of his
love for his childe, had been the final balm that soothed away the last
traces of ambiguity. Spike’s gaze returned to the redhead whose back
was turned toward him, and he smiled softly. As much as his intention
had been to fix her tattered heart, she had no idea that she had done
the same for him. Even in her misery, she still gave, albeit
unknowingly, and he loved her with an intensity that eclipsed all else.
But even as their own shared worlds righted themselves, Angel’s was now
being thrown awry, and Spike found himself utterly torn.

In all the years since he had been turned, Willow was the only lover
who was solely and completely his alone. As much as he loved Angel, and
he could now admit those feelings to himself with no sense of aversion,
he couldn’t bring himself to share her with his sire, even if Willow
were to agree to such an arrangement. At the same time, he hated
watching his sire suffer. Spike knew all too well what it felt like to
want the one thing you could never truly have. He had lived that hell
with Drusilla for too many decades when he longed for her, and she
longed for Angelus.

Now that the situation had been reversed, Spike felt no sense of
getting his own back. All he wanted was to ease his sire’s pain, but he
didn’t know how to go about doing that without compromising his
exclusive relationship with Willow. He couldn’t do that. He knew it,
and Angel knew it. And he believed his sire when he said he didn’t want
to put either Spike or Willow in that position. Angel was the master of
self-sacrifice, an attribute which Spike used to mockingly scorn. But
now his sire’s selflessness has been directed at the blonde vampire,
and Spike’s heart constricted in his chest when he considered what
Angel had relinquished for the sake of his childe’s happiness.

Willow emptied the carafe of water into the top of the coffee maker and
returned it to the hot plate beneath the basket of freshly-ground
coffee before turning to find the blonde vampire’s eyes on her. Smiling
slightly, she approached his chair, and his arm went around her as she
lowered herself onto his lap.

She placed a warm kiss on his lips and then rubbed her cheek gently
against his cold one and spoke softly into his ear, "What are you
thinking about?"

"You, luv," he answered. squeezing her to him.

"Me," she repeated, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes. "And
Angel?"

Her perception astounded him, and he grumbled with a small grin,
"Bloody mind-reader."

Her fingers traced the contour of his chiseled cheekbone, "He’s
unhappy, isn’t he? Because of me."

"No, baby."

"Yes," she argued. "He’s hurting, and it’s my fault, after everything
he’s done for me--"

"For us," he amended. "And it isn’t your fault."

"Then whose fault is it?" she asked.

"Hmmm..." He considered the question as he drew her close to him and
settled her head against the crook of his neck and placed a gentle kiss
on her head. "Let’s blame the slayer; that usually works."

She giggled softly, her warm breath tickling against his throat, "How
can you possibly pin this one on her?"

He grinned and raised her chin, her lips only a breath away from his,
"Give me a minute to think on that. I’ll come up with something."

Her laughing eyes looked adoringly into his, "I love you, Spike."

His response came in the form of a long, deep kiss. When she finally
pulled away, her eyes had regained their sad seriousness.

"Luv, don’t," he asked, kissing away the wrinkle of concern on her
brow. "Listen to me; it isn’t all bad for Angel, you know. He’s happy
just to have you here. He gave you back to me, and you gave me back to
him."

"I did?" she asked.

"You did," he nodded. "Don’t get me wrong, he still has the capacity to
bug the hell out of me, but I understand him now better than I have in
decades. While he and I were busily trying to deconstruct that wall you
lived behind, we tore our own down in the process. I have my sire back,
and he has his childe. Neither one of us thought that would *ever* be
possible."

"Is that enough for him, though?"

"It’s more than you could possibly realize, pet. Angel made it very
clear to me a few days ago that he doesn’t want either one of us out of
his life. We’ll find a way to make all of this work. Just give it some
time to get easier."

Her eyes searched his, and she cocked her head curiously, "Do you want
him? Do you want to be with him?"

He shifted uncomfortably under her, "Would that bother you?"

"No," she answered without hesitation. "Not if it’s what the two of you
need."

A broad smile curled his lips and he hugged her fiercely, "Gods, you’re
amazing."

She snorted softly against his ear and responded dryly, "Ain’t I just,
though."

Taking her face in his hands, he lowered his mouth close to hers, "Yes,
you are. I love you, Willow."

She smiled against his his lips as they took hers in a kiss of pure
passion.

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