Giles sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair as he looked around at the long faces that had gathered in his living room. Two weeks had passed since Willow had left, and no one had heard a word from her.

Buffy had tried to contact her parents who were currently overseas and apparently unreachable. Since then, she had spent most of her time alternately burying her sorrow in pointless social activities and angrily biting off the head of anyone who looked cross-eyed at her. The former watcher understood that her emotional outbursts were simply the result of grief-stricken guilt. Even so, more and more frequently he found himself thinking that she could do with a good hard slap.

Xander, on the other hand, had given himself over to long stretches of silence peppered with meandering litanies of the places to which Willow could have run--none of which had proved to have been worth the effort of looking into. Still, in his own sincere, if inept, way, he was trying to do something useful to rectify the sad situation.

Spike's reaction had surprised Giles the most. He had been the one to track down Kerri and had even managed to question the young woman with something akin to patient rationality. Unfortunately, Willow's ride out of town hadn't been able to provide him with much information. Kerri had deposited the redhead at a hotel in her hometown and had not seen her since. The blonde vampire had hovered over Giles' shoulder as he telephoned the hotel manager only to be told no one with Willow's name or description had ever checked into a room there.

"It's no good," Buffy's voice broke the thirty minute silence and drew their attention to her. "We aren't going to find her."

"Yeah, we all know how hard you've looked," Spike commented with a sneer.

"Shut up," she snapped. "Who the hell are you to criticize me? You have no idea what I--"

"Buffy," Giles interrupted, unwilling to listen to yet another endless argument.

"Giles, you know how badly I want to find her!" she insisted. "No one's more upset about this than I am!"

The man looked at the vampire and thought to himself that quite possibly someone else was in a good deal more pain than the slayer was able to admit to herself.

"I told you when you formulated your plan to rescue Willow from herself that you were asking for trouble," Giles reminded her. "She needed time, not a self-serving scheme to try to coerce her out of her pain."

"It wasn't self-serving! I wanted to help her!"

Giles' patience was frayed beyond repair, and he snapped, "You wanted an easy fix, a fast way to mend her aching heart so you wouldn't have to listen to how much she was hurting. None of us were understanding enough, and most of us should have known better."

"That's unfair, and it isn't true," she argued, but the words sounded pathetically unconvincing even to herself.

"No one wanted to hurt her," Xander said to Giles. "We just wanted her to be happy again."

"I know that," he nodded, his temper receding. "But as much as you'd like not to, you have to admit that what you did must have seemed to Willow as big a betrayal as what Oz did by leaving."

Buffy's gaze dropped guiltily away, and Spike pushed himself up out of his chair, walked wordlessly to the front door, and let himself out. Giles watched him leave and felt an odd pang of sympathy for the vampire.

"I didn't believe him when he said he loves Willow," Xander spoke softly. "But I'm changing my mind. Gods, could we have possibly made a bigger mess out of this?"

"All right," Buffy sighed. "It was a stupid idea. I'm a complete ass. Does that make you feel better?"

"When the hell are you going to get it?" Xander shouted angrily and stood up. "This isn't about you--or any of the rest of us! We can sit around pointing fingers at each other and feeling sorry for ourselves, but Willow is still gone. How the hell are we going to find her?"

"She's been gone for two weeks," Giles said. "If she doesn't want to be found, she probably won't be."

"You think we should give up?" Xander asked.

"I think we should be realistic," he answered.

"Maybe after she's had time to think, and she realizes we were only thinking of her best interests, she'll see it was wrong to run off like that, and she'll come back," Buffy suggested.

Giles looked over at her in utter disbelief and replied, "I wouldn't count on it."

***

"I hate this town," Willow thought to herself as she flopped down on the ragged bedspread in the cheap hotel room.

She kicked off her shoes and rubbed her aching feet. She had spent the past six hours standing on a cement floor, soaked to her elbows in hot, soapy water. The smell of seafood clung to her clothes and her hair, and she quickly stripped out of her jeans and blouse and headed for the shower. Lukewarm water was the best the hotel seemed to be able to provide, and she shivered for a moment as the weak spray hit her body.

Two days after she had left, she had gone to a branch office of her bank back in Sunnydale and had withdrawn all of the money from her savings account. It was a respectable amount of money, but she had decided to be frugal and pick up whatever jobs she could find as she flitted aimlessly from one small nondescript town to another.

She had briefly entertained the idea of going to L.A., but had decided against it. She knew the possibility was slim that Angel would find her. As far as she knew, he didn't keep in touch with anyone back in Sunnydale, and it was highly unlikely that he even knew she had left. Still, it was a risk she wasn't willing to take.

Willow stepped out of the shower and toweled herself off before pulling on a pair of sweats and a fresh t-shirt. She laid down on the bed and glanced over at the useless TV, wondering if any of the sets in this flea-bag actually worked.

She sighed heavily and rolled onto her side as a tear trickled from her eye and dropped onto the pillow. She hated her life. She hated where she had come from and where she was now. She hated the boring pattern her life had taken on over the last six weeks. A bus ticket into the next little town. Work long enough to save enough money to prevent her from dipping into her
savings. Buy another bus ticket. Move on.

Mostly, she hated feeling sorry for herself. Pain had become such a central part of her day-to-day life, she could barely remember what it was like to be happy. She had made up her mind to let that emotional side of her die. But somewhere, deep inside, the old Willow who had been filled with dreams and carefree hopes, still struggled to remain. However, with each passing
day, she felt that person slipping away.

A hard shell of a woman, one who no longer cared--about anything, really--stared back at her when she looked in the mirror. At first, it had scared her. She didn't recognize the person she was becoming, but that new, harder voice, the one that grew stronger with each ticking moment, assured her that soon she would no longer care about that, either. To not care
meant to not feel. And that's what she wanted.

She scrubbed at her wet cheek with the back of her hand and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blissful oblivion of sleep to overtake her weary mind.
 

"Two months? Why the hell didn't somebody tell me before this?" Angel barked at Spike who was standing on the other side of his desk.

"Because no one in Sunnyhell fancied talking to you," Spike snarled back. "And that bloody bitch of a slayer isn't keen on her pet vampire stepping outside the city limits. The only reason I managed to get here at all is because Giles literally told the chit to shut the hell up and get her bony ass out on patrol. Turns out he isn't so bad, for a watcher."

Angel stared over at him, surprised to hear the blonde vampire refer to Giles by name. It had taken two hours for Spike to convince him that his murderous childe had been metaphorically defanged. All of this, added to the realization that Spike seemed to be truly in torment over Willow's disappearance, left Angel feeling a little bit dazed.

"She's been gone for two months," Angel's voice softened. "There isn't much chance we're going to find her after that length of time."

Spike scowled, "They've all but given up. The git still has enough sense to let it hurt now and then, but the slayer's gone back to business as usual. Where to find skirts that cover her ass just enough to keep her from being arrested for public indecency, and how to get that sod who screwed with my head into a dark corner long enough for a quick fuck."

"Spike--"

The blonde vampire waved his hand, swatting away the beginnings of an unwanted argument, "The watcher doesn't think we're going to find her, but he hasn't completely given up. Which is why he agreed to let me leave town. But I know he doesn't hold out much hope."

"He's probably right. You don't even know if she's in California. Two months, Spike. She could be on the other side of the continent by now." Angel gave his childe an appraising look, "You really care, don't you?"

Spike shoved his fists into the pockets of his duster and stared at the floor, "I can't hurt her, Angel--well not in that way. I seem to have managed to find another route that's just as effective, though."

Angel stood up and moved around the desk to pour himself a cup of coffee, "Why did you ever agree to such an idiotic idea in the first place?"

"The slayer's stupid game? I don't know," he admitted. "At first, it was because she threatened to cut off my supply of blood. But after I spent time with Willow, it became something else. She was hurting, and I—I wanted it to stop."

Angel nearly dropped the mug, but recovered himself before it slipped through his fingers, "You love her."

"I do," he nodded.

A sad smile moved over the dark vampire's face, "I'll probably regret believing you mean that, but I do, anyway."

"I have to find her," Spike said softly. "I don't have the--resources--that you do."

"I'm not omniscient," Angel told him. "You may be asking the impossible. If she's left the state-"

"But if she hasn't. If she's still here, somewhere, you can find her?"

"I can try," Angel nodded.

***

"I can't believe you let him run off!" Buffy shouted.

"He hasn't run off," Giles said. "He went to Los Angeles to ask Angel's help."

"Right. Just don't be surprised if you never see him again."

"He can't even fight to defend himself. None of the people in that city are in any danger from him, as you very well know."

Xander nodded, fully willing to take the former watcher's side, "And if Angel can track down Will--"

"I should have been the one to go," Buffy stated.

"Why? You weren't the one to think of it," Giles pointed out.

"But he and Angel don't even get along! They'll probably just--"

"Buffy!" the man roared angrily. "It's done. You have duties to attend to here. It may take days to find Willow, if Angel can find her at all. Go study. Go patrol. Go do something. Just please, for the sake of my sanity, give it a rest."

She watched as he turned and left the living room to search the bathroom cabinet for a couple of aspirin.

"Am I being selfish?" the slayer asked Xander.

"You are," Xander answered without batting an eye and walked out the front door.

Buffy sighed and sank down onto the sofa, covering her face with her hands, and whispered softly, "I am. Oh, Will. I'm sorry. Please, please come home."

***

Cordelia stood outside the dingy pub and wrinkled her nose as she eyed the oily curtains hanging in the windows.

"I am not going in there," she announced.

"Of course you're not, Princess," Doyle agreed. "This is no place for the likes of you."

She nodded and crossed her hands over her chest as she leaned back against the side of Angel's car.

"You're sure she's in there?" Spike asked.

"Tiny red haired beauty, stands about so high," Doyle gestured, holding his palm face-down in front of his chest. "Green eyes so deep a man could drown in them. Incredible legs that go clear up to her--"

"Doyle," Angel sighed. "Are you _sure_ it's Willow?"

"Spittin' image of her picture."

"Where did you get a picture of Willow?" the dark vampire wanted to know.

"Cordelia's dresser."

Cordy's hands dropped to her hips as she huffed, "You went through my drawers!?!"

"All for a good cause, love. Don't worry. I won't tell them what else you keep tucked away in there," he winked playfully at her.

Angel choked back the urge to laugh as the woman's face flushed a deep shade of red.

"How did you find her?" Spike asked Doyle.

"It took a wee bit of leg work," he grinned smugly.

"Who are you kidding? Our cute little lush knows every pub within a fifty mile radius of Los Angeles," Cordy smirked.

"She thinks I'm cute," Doyle beamed.

"Please. Get over yourself," Cordy grimaced.

"You heard her, mates. She said I'm cute," he insisted.

"Can we just go in there and--"

"You go storming in there. Willow sees you. She takes off out the back door," Doyle cautioned Spike.

"Angel could wait in the alley," Cordelia suggested.

"Or we could all wait right here for about fifteen more minutes," the half-demon replied.

Angel arched an eyebrow at him.

"Her shift ends at eleven," he shrugged.

"How the bloody hell do you get anything accomplished?" Spike muttered.

"With a great deal of patience," his sire answered dryly.
 

Spike braced himself mentally as the pub door swung open, and a flash of red hair was illuminated by the dim light hanging just above the doorway. Doyle waited until she had cleared the entrance before nodding politely and moving around her to block her escape
back into the building.

Willow's gaze moved up, and her eyes widened with recognition as the blonde vampire stepped around the front of Angel's car. If his heart had been able, it would have been pounding inside his chest.

Angel slipped quietly out of the shadow of the awning over the pub window, and Cordelia stood riveted to her spot beside the car's trunk as she watched to see how this unexpected reunion would play itself out. As it happened, all their preparations to prevent Willow
from fleeing turned out to be completely unnecessary.

"What are you doing here?" the small redhead asked, her voice so completely bereft of emotion it sent a chill of unease down Spike's back.

"Looking for you," he answered softly. "For what seems like a century."

She shrugged, "I kind of figured when I stopped off here that someone would trip over me sooner or later. I stayed away from L.A. for the longest time just for that reason. But in the end, I decided it didn't really matter, anyway."

"You don't belong here, pet," Spike told her.

"I find I like the city. There's a certain anonymity you can't get in a small town. And I've been in a few dozen of those."

"But not long enough for anyone to get to know you," Angel guessed.

"Anonymity," she answered with the same dull expression. "So, you found me. Now, what?"

"Now, I take you back home," Spike answered.

"I have to be here early tomorrow evening. I'm taking Lila's shift. Doing a double, actually."

"Spike's right," Doyle spoke. "You don't belong here, love. I saw the way the blokes in there were groping you last night."

Spike's eyes darted to the half-demon, a bright blaze of amber flashing angrily behind them, but Willow merely looked impassively at the stranger.

"That must have been just before you ducked out to run back and tell Angel you'd found me," she said.

"I meant what I said. I'm taking you back to Sunnyhell with me," the blonde vampire informed her.

"Whatever," she responded. "Doesn't make much difference."

Angel and Spike shared a brief glance of concern, and Willow allowed them to usher her over to Angel's car.

***

Spike had pulled away from Angel's building with the promise to keep him filled in on how Willow was doing once he'd gotten her back to Sunnydale. He stole a quick glance at her as he sped down the highway. He didn't really know what kind of reaction he had expected from her when he finally found her, but this was certainly not it.

No tears, no outbursts, not a single flash of anger. The redhead simply stared mutely out the window into the darkness as the odometer rolled off the miles. The few questions he had ventured to ask her had been met with the briefest possible answers, and he soon gave up on trying to get her to talk and turned the radio on softly to help chase away the disturbing silence
inside the car.

"Your parents are still out of town," he said as he neared the outskirts of Sunnydale. "I don't really fancy you staying there alone, and the slayer says you've been dropped from the university roles. I'm taking you to the watcher's, at least for tonight."

"One sofa is pretty much the same as another," she answered, her voice flat and even.

***

Angel had phoned the minute Spike and Willow had left his apartment, and Giles, Buffy, and Xander were watching expectantly from the living room window for the first glimpse of the couple. Buffy yanked open the door as their shadowy figures appeared outside, and she flew to Willow and wrapped her arms around her.

"Oh, Will! I'm so glad you're home. You have no idea how worried we've been," Buffy whispered through her tears.

Giles' brow furrowed as he looked over at Spike. Willow had neither returned the slayer's embrace nor tried to fight her way out of it. She simply stood stone still, her arms hanging limply at her sides, and suffered Buffy's desperate embrace. The slayer's arms finally slipped from around her, and she stepped back and looked at her with obvious worry as Xander took her place and gave the redhead a tight hug.

Giles placed a hand on Willow's arm, and Spike followed as he escorted the young woman inside. She sat down on the sofa, and the vampire sat beside her and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Are you hungry?" Giles asked. "I'd be glad to get you something."

"No need. Don't bother," she answered.

"Perhaps some tea, then," he replied, inwardly cringing at the formality in his tone.

He shot Spike a look, and the vampire rose and followed him into the kitchen.

"What's wrong with her?" the former watcher asked quietly.

"She's been like that since we found her," he answered. "I tried to get her to talk to me on the
drive back, but I got just about as much as you did."

"Maybe she just needs some time to readjust," he suggested. "It must have been upsetting to see you again."

"If it was, she sure as hell didn't let on."

"Yes, well, let's give her a couple of days. Now that she's back in familiar surroundings, maybe she'll start to feel more comfortable again."

Spike was obviously unconvinced, and Giles' heart ached as the vampire looked longingly across the counter at the small woman.

"I want to stay here tonight," he said softly.

"I'm not sure that's wise," Giles told him.

"I need to be near her."

Giles acquiesced at the blatant pain that resided in the icy blue eyes that looked back at him, "All right."
***
Buffy and Xander had left in quiet sadness after trying for an hour to get Willow to talk to them. Soon afterward, Giles excused himself and went to his bedroom. Willow took the blanket he had draped over the back of the sofa and pulled it over her as she laid down. Spike sank down on the chair directly across from her and studied her in silence for several minutes.

"I never wanted to hurt you, pet," he finally spoke. "What happened back then--it wasn't what--"

He stopped as she turned on her side, placing her back toward him. His eyes remained fixed on her, and he waited until he heard her breathing take on the slow rhythm of sleep before pushing himself quietly up out of the chair.

Kneeling beside the sofa, he took her warm hand in his, rubbing her soft skin with his thumb. Without waking, Willow shifted onto her back, and he moved closer and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"What the hell has happened to you?" Spike whispered softly.

He settled himself beside the sofa, leaning against it, her hand still in his, as the agonizing ache in
his heart caused tears to flow from his eyes.
 
 
 

"Willow, please," Giles pleaded softly. "I really don't think you should leave right now."

Giles had awakened and walked into the living room to find the redhead's suitcase waiting beside the door while she finished her cup of coffee. He had been afraid she was trying to bolt again, and her toneless explanation that she needed to find an apartment hadn't done much to assuage his fear. Spike had cast him a frantic look. Giles knew the vampire couldn't stop Willow from moving out if doing so required physical force. The former watcher wasn't keen on the idea, himself, but he had steeled himself for that possibility, nonetheless.

"You look so tired," he continued as she listened passively.

"I slept well enough."

"That isn't what I--" the man sighed and reached across the table to lay a hand on her arm. "The truth is, I'm afraid you'll leave town again if I let you walk out that door."

She slid her arm out from under his hand and lifted the mug of coffee to her lips.

"This place is as good as any," she told him. "One town is pretty much the same as another."

Her constant display of detachment was no act, of that Giles was certain. Her listlessness rattled him far more than tears or angry indignation could ever have done. At this point, any sign of emotion would have been wholly welcomed.

"This isn't any town. It's your home," he reminded her. "We want you here, Willow."

"I'm not planning on leaving," she answered.

"That's good," he nodded. "The spring semester is nearly over, but you could register for a few summer courses to make up for what you've missed. I'm sure Buffy would love to go with you if you'd like to--"

She shook her head, "I'll find a job. Someone must be hiring."

At a loss to know how to get through her stony exterior, Giles rubbed a hand over his face and pushed his chair back to stand up. Spike took his place as the former watcher went around to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"Pet," Spike spoke softly, trying to get her to meet his eyes. "Tell me what it is that you need. Tell me how to make it better."

"Alone," she answered. "You could just leave me alone."

"You've been alone for months," he told her. "Have we really hurt you so badly that you've completely shut down? Luv, I hardly recognize this person sitting across from me."

"I'm here, back in Sunnydale," she shrugged. "Isn't that enough? Isn't that what you needed?"

"I'm talking about what _you_ need, Willow. Just tell me, and I'll find a way to make it happen."

"I don't need anything. I'm fine."

The vampire wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and hug the emotions back into her, but the awful reality of feeling only her unresponsive body close to his prevented him from making the move.

"If only you hadn't run off the way you did," he whispered. "If only you'd given me the chance to tell you what had really happened--"

"I need a shower," she decided, rising to set the empty mug on the kitchen counter before disappearing down the hallway, leaving Spike to stare sadly at her vacated chair.
***
Angel found Spike sitting alone on a park bench. His childe had been true to his word, phoning him weekly to fill him in on Willow's progress--or rather, lack of progress--since they'd returned to Sunnydale. Spike's growing frustration over Willow's state of mind had resulted in the blonde vampire actually breaking down in tears of grief during their most recent phone conversation.

The love/hate relationship between sire and childe had spanned the course of decades. After their time together in L.A. four weeks ago, when he had learned of Spike's altered existence, Angel had found himself redefining the bond between them. He was proud of the way his childe continued to survive after the changes he had been forced to undergo. And in spite of the
years of mutual animosity, Angel had never ceased loving Spike.

Willow's life was a mere shadow of what it had once been, and Angel had recognized the pain in Spike's voice for what it was. His childe was devastated after his many unsuccessful attempts to reach out to Willow. Before, the blonde vampire would have resorted to violence, a cruel and well-calculated show of force, to get what he wanted. But that was no longer an option. He may have succeeded in bringing Willow back, but physical proximity was all he had won. Spike's heart was breaking, bit by bit, every time Willow turned her lifeless eyes on him.

Angel had hung up the phone, grabbed Doyle and Cordelia, and headed for Sunnydale, determined to find a way to get Spike his Willow.
 

Angel had been carrying on a one-sided conversation for nearly forty-five minutes with the silent redhead seated in the chair across from him. Aside from the fact that her green eyes occasionally followed the vampire's sporadic pacing, Willow had given no indication she had heard a word of what he had said. Angel hadn't been able to elicit so much as a flutter of emotion from her, and the dark vampire's initial concern was giving way to impatience.

"How can you possibly not give a damn that you're hurting the people who care most about you?" he asked.

"If that's true, then they should stop caring," she answered.

"Like you have?" he snapped.

"This isn't about me."

His mouth dropped open, and his eyes stared back at her, "How the hell can you say that? Who do you think this _is_ about?"

"Them," she shrugged.

"I don't believe this," he told her. "You're one of the most giving people I've ever known. How can you be so callous toward them?"

"Angel, you don't want to hear what I think, not really. Go back to L.A."

He knelt in front of her chair and took her limply unresponsive hands in his, "I _do_ want to hear. You just won't talk!"

Her clear calm eyes met his, "All right. I'll say this once, and then you'll have heard it, and you can go home."

"I'm listening."

"None of what they've done has been about me," she told him. "It never was, and it still isn't."

"Look, I know that Oz hurt you, but--"

"This has nothing to do with Oz. I stopped caring about all that a long time ago."

"Willow, you stopped caring about _everything_!"

She pulled her hands out of his as she stood up, "Never mind."

"All right," he quickly relented. "I'm sorry. I won't interrupt again. Just talk. Say anything. Anything you want. I'll just listen."

She shook her head, "It won't make any difference. It doesn't matter to me if you don't understand."

Doyle stepped out of the shelter of the hallway as Willow pulled the front door closed behind her.

"Damn it," Angel muttered. "I couldn't have screwed that up any better if I'd tried."

"It isn't entirely your fault," the half-demon replied. "Cordelia and I are accustomed to a dark,
brooding lump who loathes the mere thought of company. You, on the other hand--"

Angel shot him a look, "She's wrong about one thing. I do understand, more than she thinks I do."

"You agree with her? All of this is really about her band of mates, not her?"

"Doyle, there's always an element of selfishness involved anytime anybody tries to help a friend who's hurting. And the stunt they pulled to try to get Willow over Oz was stupid and unthinking."

"And she can't forgive them?"

"She won't let herself. She's built up a wall to keep them out. To keep them--or anyone else--from ever being able to betray her like that again."

"And a damned fine wall it is, too. I don't see how you're going to blast your way through it," Doyle told him.

"I'm not," Angel agreed. "I can't. But someone else can. Come on."

"Where are we going?" he asked as he followed the vampire to the door.

"We're picking up Cordelia, and then we're going to have a talk with Spike."
***
Angel had not planned on explaining his idea to Buffy. Giles had politely excused himself when the vampire had asked to speak with his childe. But Buffy had made it clear that if this were about Willow, and if Cordelia and Doyle were staying to listen, then she deserved to hear it, too. The upshot of it all being that Angel now found himself looking back at four pairs of questioning eyes rather than the three pairs that he had originally hoped for.

He focused his attention on the quiet blonde vampire whose expression was so pained it drew an unconscious breath of air from Angel's lungs.

"Spike, I tried to talk to Willow, but I really didn't get very far," he began as he sat down beside him on the sofa.

"Nobody does," he answered quietly. "She's gone so far inside herself, I don't think anybody can bring her back out."

"You're wrong," Angel's voice responded with conviction, and Spike's eyes fixed on his sire's. "You can."

"Angel, we've talked to her. We've all talked to her. She just doesn't hear," Buffy spoke from over his shoulder.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, looking up at her. "I was under the impression that you'd all tried, but when she wouldn't respond, you'd more or less give up."

"Well, yes, but--"

"So you'd try to get through to her for--what, thirty minutes, maybe an hour at the most--and then back off," he continued.

"It's too hard, Angel!" Buffy contended. "To try to talk to her and get nothing in return. Half of the time she won't even look at me, and the other half of the time, I'm sure she isn't listening. She doesn't cry or yell. She doesn't get sad or angry. She just sits there like I don't even exist. It's obvious she just doesn't care either way about us. You can only argue with that for so long before it just gets too painful--"

"And then you give up," Angel nodded.

"And she wins," Cordelia added, catching on to where the dark vampire was heading with this.

Doyle's mouth crooked into a grin as he looked down at the brunette, "Which just reinforces the idea that what Willow is doing--"

"Is working!" Cordy crowed, giving his arm a triumphant squeeze.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Buffy grumbled in confusion.

Angel turned back to Spike, "What you need is time--"

"We've had time! Weeks of time to try to get her--"

"Buffy," the name tumbled out on a snarl of exasperation as Angel shot a dark look at her before returning his attention to his childe. "I'm going to the mansion and stock it with enough blood and food to last for several days, Spike."

"Why?" he asked.

"You need to get Willow alone. In a place where there won't be any distractions, where you can make her listen to you."

"I can't make her do anything," Spike reminded him. "Anyway, she never tries to avoid my attempts at conversation, she just tunes them out.

"Just listen to me for a minute," his sire requested and waited for Spike's nod. "Willow has spent months erecting this wall around her heart. It's going to take more than an hour here and there to chip your way through it. You need the time to get in her face and stay there, no matter how hard and how often she tries to shut you out. Somewhere, deep inside her, she still knows that you care. Otherwise, she wouldn't feel this need to protect her heart."

"Okay, but even if Spike gets to the point where he starts to get to her, what's to prevent her from just running off again?" Cordelia asked.

"There's a room on the second floor, the only one I ever found a key for--"

"You want Spike to lock her away in there--with him?" Buffy shouted. "He's the last person she wants to be alone with!"

"Because he's the one person who has the greatest potential to hurt her," Doyle told her.

"You think Willow cares more about Spike than she does about the rest of us?" Buffy asked him and leveled a look of contempt at the blonde vampire. "If you hadn't slept with her, she wouldn't have felt so betrayed in the first place!"

"If _you_ hadn't conspired to get her mind off of Oz, none of it would have happened at all," Angel reminded her.

"Besides," Cordy added. "Willow and I may have had our differences in the past, but I know her well enough to know she wouldn't have climbed into bed with Spike if she didn't love him."

"But she thinks I was using her," Spike said. "She thinks it was all just a game to me."

"I'm not saying this is going to be easy," Angel told him. "She isn't going to allow herself to believe a word that you say. The way things are now, she can listen to you with relative ease because she knows if she just waits it out in stoical silence, it'll end pretty quickly. This isn't going to work unless you really want her, Spike. She isn't going to make it easy for you. And hell knows, you're not the most patient person."

"I could be. For her," Spike responded quietly.

Angel smiled softly and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Can you get her to the mansion tomorrow night?"

He nodded, "I'll find a way."

"Good. Come on. I'll show you exactly what I have in mind," his sire suggested as he rose from the sofa.

"Just for the record, I think this whole idea really sucks," Buffy said as they headed toward the door.

Cordy turned back as the others stepped outside, "In case you hadn't noticed, nobody asked you. If you really want to know what _I_ think, though--"

"She doesn't, Princess," Doyle's voice spoke as his hand reached inside and yanked her out the front door.
 

"This is what you wanted me to see?" Willow stopped in her tracks as the dark gloomy mansion came into view. "Why are we here?"

"I told you I'd explain everything," Spike answered.

"And everyone is going to leave me alone if I go through with this crazy charade?"

"I promise," he nodded.

"Which really means nothing." The remark would have stung if it had been spoken with any emotion whatsoever, but Willow merely shrugged and resumed walking, "Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

Spike led her inside the cold unlit building and attempted to put his hand on her elbow, which she quickly drew away.

"It's this way," he said and headed for the staircase.

He waited while she crossed the threshold into the spacious bedroom. Angel had arranged for the delivery of a bed, dresser, and nightstand, along with several other necessary accessories, and Cordelia and Doyle had spent the afternoon readying the room. The shuttered windows had been nailed shut years ago, and Willow moved further inside to peer through the heavy
shadows that enshrouded the obviously new furnishings. Spike stepped inside and closed the door quietly as she flicked on the lamp beside the bed. She turned back just in time to see him lock the door and pocket the key.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"It's just you and me, here, luv. For as long as it takes," he answered her softly.

"As long as it takes? For what?" she questioned.

"For me to get through to you."

"I'm going to pretend this hasn't happened, and you can just unlock that door, and--"

"No," he refused.

Her voice remained calm and even, as if the impact of what he was telling her hadn't quite struck her yet, "You can't keep me here."

"Why not? You've alienated anyone who might have helped you. No one is going to be looking for you, pet. No one is going to come to your rescue."

"I don't need rescuing," she reasoned. "You can't hurt me. I'm not afraid of you."

"Yes, you are. And yes, I can hurt you. I've already proven that, haven't I?" he said. "But it's the last thing I want to--"

She moved around to an overstuffed armchair, depositing herself in it with a resigned sigh, "Fine. Talk until your fangs rot our of your head. The sooner you get started, the sooner you'll be done, and I can get out of here."

"You're not hearing me, luv," he shook his head and walked over to her. "You aren't leaving here. Not for a very long time. Not until I blow that damned wall you've built around you clear to hell."

The vampire watched as the cold veil the redhead had perfected suddenly dropped down over her features, separating herself from him, the room, the situation she found herself in. He knelt and took her hands, holding them firmly, stubbornly refusing to let the fact she didn't react to his touch affect him. He raised one hand to her cheek, caressing it lightly with his cold palm.

"I'm going to get in there," he promised her softly. "You may believe you can shut me out indefinitely, but I wrote the book on pig-headedness."

Her eyes never wavered from his, but Spike had the chilling sensation that she was looking right past him. Shaking it off, he reached behind him and tugged at the large ottoman that had been delivered with the rest of the furniture. He sat down on it, propping his elbows on either arm of the chair, and leaned in close to her.

"I hurt you Willow. I never meant to, but I did," he said. "What started out as a game for the slayer and her fool, and a means of survival for myself, ended up being something I never expected. She never meant for us to share a bed. I was only supposed to distract you, to get your mind off of--the pain you'd been through. When I made love to you, that's exactly what
it was. Love."

Willow didn't appear to be listening to him, but the vampire plowed right on ahead all the same, "If the git hadn't seen you, that night at the Bronze, you'd have heard me tell the slayer to take her damned game and shove it right up her ass. I had no intention of letting you go. I knew that you loved me. You told me you did, remember?"

She looked back at him with detached disinterest, as if he were telling her a story about somebody else.

"You didn't know I'd fallen in love with you weeks before you'd spoken those words to me. I didn't care what she threatened me with. I wanted you, and I was going to keep you. You never gave me the chance to tell you any of that. I tried to find you for days. I couldn't believe you'd actually left town. Even after that note you left in the dorm, I couldn't believe
you'd really stay away. Willow, I love you. I--"

"If you're not going to let me out of here tonight, I might as well get some sleep," she announced, pushing him away from her and going to the bed.

Without drawing back the covers, she laid down and reached for the switch on the lamp, throwing the room into silent darkness. Spike sank down onto the armchair and squeezed his eyes shut, but red tears of anguish trickled out, nonetheless.
 

Spike awoke to find Willow digging through the deep pockets of his duster, which he had thrown over the ottoman at some point during the night.

"It isn't in there," he told her.

She looked over at him, "I'm hungry. Let me out of here."

He shook his head and unfolded his lean frame from the plush depths of the armchair, "I'll get you something."

She followed close behind him as he went to the door.

He pulled the key from a pocket in his jeans and unlocked the door, then turned and looked down at her, "I'll get us both something, and then we can talk."

"I'm going home," she told him.

"You are home, for now," he replied and steeled himself for the pain he knew he was about to
experience.

She gasped in surprise as he suddenly gripped her shoulders and shoved her with enough force to send her flying back toward the bed. She landed on the floor and scrambled to her feet, only to hear Spike locking the door from the other side.
***
Spike nearly dropped the carton of orange juice he had retrieved from the cooler sitting on top of the counter. He whirled around toward the unexpected presence to find Angel's concerned eyes fastened on him.

"How the bloody hell did you get here?" Spike asked.

"I came before sunrise," his sire answered. "Cordelia asked me to bring this, just in case."

He held out a cell phone, which Spike took and set on the counter, "Thanks."

"How is she doing?"

"She isn't. Angel, I don't think this is going to work."

"It will. It has to. But it's going to take time, probably a lot of it. You're sure you can do this?"

"If I have to," he nodded. "She's just so--far away. Nothing I say seems to get through."

"Spike, you know Willow, and that woman up there isn't her. She needs you. If you can't pull this off, nobody can."

"It just hurts, you know?" the blonde vampire admitted softly, casting a hesitant sideways look at Angel. "I really think she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you. Her heart is hurting as much as yours is," he assured him. "Don't give up on her, Spike. No matter how hard she pushes you away, hold on tighter. It's going to take a lot of pressure to knock that wall down, but I know it can be done."

"Just keep telling me that," his childe requested.

"I will," Angel promised with a small smile.

Spike reached for a bag of blood from inside the cooler and shook his head thoughtfully, "When did you stop being such a wanker?"

"Probably about the same time you discovered what hell being a vampire can actually be," his sire chuckled as Spike looked at the bag with distaste. "Doyle is bringing a microwave over later on."

"Good. I hate this stuff cold," Spike nodded.

He emptied the blood into a paper cup and stared down into it for a moment.

"Spike?" Angel spoke, his voice edged with worry.

"I'm all right. It's just--"

Angel took an unneeded breath as Spike looked over at him with tear-rimmed eyes. The dark vampire was in front of him in one long stride, wrapping his arms around his grieving childe. Spike clung to him like a life preserver, his shoulders heaving as he wept red tears.

"You'll get her back. I'll move hell itself, if that's what it takes," Angel promised softly. "Your Willow is still in there. She just needs you to find her."

Spike nodded slightly and drew away, scrubbing away the bloody tears on his cheeks, "I'd better take this up to her."

Angel watched as he quickly downed the glass of cold blood, then scooped up the orange juice and a few pieces of fruit and headed for the stairs.

"I'll be here, if you need me," Angel told him.

Spike gave him a weak smile before starting up.
***
It was late morning before Doyle and Cordelia showed up at the mansion. Angel had managed to get enough of a fire going in the fireplace to take the chill off his unnaturally cold body, and it was with open gratitude that he took the thermos of coffee Cordy offered to him.

"This place could do with some furniture," Doyle announced, his eyes traveling over the large, empty room.

"This place could do with a wrecking ball," Cordelia corrected him. "How's the happy couple?"

"Not very happy," Angel answered.

"Oh," she answered, her mouth twitching into a sad frown. "Still, it's only a matter of time. Right?"

"Right," he nodded and cast her a fond smile and turned as a familiar voice called from the door.

"Angel?" Buffy spoke. "There's a microwave sitting out here."

"I'll see to that," Doyle said. "Princess, I could use a touch of your culinary expertise."

"My culi-who?" Cordy asked, trailing off behind him. "If that was some kind of an insult, buster--"

The slayer waited until their voices faded, then looked over at Angel, "Have you been here all night?"

"No," he answered. "Not all night."

"I take it they haven't fallen into each other's arms yet," she said dryly, looking over toward the stairs. "Angel, I've been thinking. This isn't going to work. Willow doesn't want to be with any of us, especially not with Spike. I can't see what good any of this--"

"Somebody's got to reach her," Angel interrupted. "You can't really believe she wants to spend the rest of her life locked up inside herself. That's a hell of an existence; believe me."

"I do," she answered sincerely. "And no one wants the old Will back more than I do, but doing it this way—I mean, locking her up there with Spike--it just isn't right. Even if he does manage to get through to her, what's going to happen when he leaves her? It's going to be Oz all over again."

"What makes you think he's going to leave her?"

"Come on! This is Spike we're talking about! He wouldn't know love if it bit him in the ass!"

"What do you call all those years he spent with Dru?" Angel asked her.

"Obsession. And he left her--"

"Other way around," he reminded her, his voice growing cool. "And Dru never returned that love, not the way Willow did--will again, once Spike gets through to her. I wouldn't have wanted Spike anywhere near her before, either. But he's changed, in more ways than I would have ever though possible. If they want to be together, I'll support them."

"How could you? He doesn't deserve Willow! He's a cold, evil-hearted bastard!"

"Buffy--"

"No! I mean it! Gods, you've locked him alone in a room with her. He could be telling her anything!"

"He loves her--"

"Who cares!"

"I do!" Angel shouted. "He's my childe, Buffy."

"He's the biggest mistake you ever created," she yelled back. "The only reason he's changed--if he has at all--is because he was forced into it. He's caused nothing but hell for all of us. If you aren't going to put a stop to this, I am."

He grabbed for her arm as she spun around, "Where do you think you're going?"

"To unlock that damned door and get Willow out of here."

"No," he refused. "I won't let you do that. He loves her. He wants her. And Willow loves him. She just can't see past all the hurt--"

"HE caused the hurt!"

Angel growled softly and gripped her arm tighter, "YOU caused the hurt. You shoved them together. You threatened Spike's life if he didn't go along with it. He already had feelings for her. He was bound to fall in love with her after you forced him to spend hours alone with her. Now, you want to destroy any chance he has of getting her back. I'm telling you, Buffy, I
won't let you do that. Leave them alone."

"The hell I will," she snarled and jerked her arm free. "I AM going up there Angel, so you'd better decide whose side you're on--mine or your precious childe's."

"Done," he complied and slammed his fist into her face.

She staggered backwards, pain flashing through her eyes as she raised her hand to her jaw, "Angel--"

"Everybody else seems to be dealing with this," he hissed, his voice low with anger. "Giles, Cordelia, even Xander. If you can't accept it, that's your problem. There's no way in hell I'm going to let you get between those two. Get out."

"Angel--"

"Now," he barked.

Her eyes pooled with tears as she stared over at him for a moment, then turned on her heel and fled the mansion. Cordelia immediately reappeared from the kitchen, followed by Doyle, who was carrying a warm mug of blood.

"Doyle's got the microwave all set up," she said brightly, smiling happily toward the door through which Buffy had just run.

"Well done, mate," Doyle grinned and patted Angel's shouder.
 
 
 

Willow was standing beside one of the two boarded up windows in the bedroom, staring at the nailed shutters as though she could see through them.

"Is the sun up?" she asked quietly.

Spike looked up at her from his seat in the armchair. They were the first words she'd spoken to him in more than an hour.

"It's morning," he answered. "Nine o'clock. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head and turned to perch on the edge of the bed. He watched her as she fiddled with the magazine he had brought up to her.

"How long have I been here? I've lost track of the days."

"Almost a week, pet," he answered rising to cross the room and sit beside her.

"I want to go home."

He shook his head and reached for her hand, "Not until you listen to me."

"I have listened."

"No, you haven't. I've talked endlessly for six days, and nothing's gotten into that pretty head of yours. I meant what I said when I first brought you here. I'm not letting you out until you let me in."

"They have to be looking for me. You know that."

He forced a sigh from his lips and ran his fingers through her silken locks, "They know where you are, Willow. All of them know."

Her eyes moved up to his, "For how long?"

"Since this whole thing began. Who do you think arranged to have everything brought here? I didn't order the furniture and gather the things that you'd need by myself," he told her.

"Angel," she said softly. "Why can't you all just let me be?"

The question carried the slightest note of tense frustration, and Spike's dead heart yearned to skip a beat. It was the first true sign of emotion he'd heard pass through her lips.

"In a thousand eternities, I could never let you be, Willow," he vowed. "I love you. Even when you hate me, I love you. That isn't going to change. Not ever."

"I don't hate you," she responded.

"I know. You don't feel anything," he nodded with a small smile. "I don't buy that, luv. You do feel, and it scares you. So you try your damndest to block the feelings out, but it doesn't work. It can't. Not forever."

Her stony facade wavered for only the briefest of seconds, but Spike saw the clear flicker of pain that passed over her face. Realizing he was staring at her, she stood up and turned away from him.

"I'd like some coffee," she requested, her voice resuming its former toneless quality. "Please."

"All right, pet," he nodded and went to the door. "I'll be right back."
***
Angel laid aside the thick book he was reading as he heard his childe's footsteps descending the stairs. He leapt to his feet as he caught a glimpse of Spike's expression.

"Something happened," the dark vampire spoke.

Spike stepped off the bottom stair and nodded, "Just a little crack, hardly a crack at all, really. But I saw it, Angel, and she knows that I did."

A broad grin spread across his sire's face, "It's started. You're getting through."

"I told her that all of you are involved in this scheme. Well, all except for the bloody slayer, but I didn't bother mentioning that fact. It isn't important enough to matter, anyway. I think it rattled her, knowing that none of you would be coming after her."

Angel nodded and placed a hand on his arm, "She knows there's no way out. You're going to win this battle of wills, Spike. Keep pushing."

"She asked for coffee," he said, turning toward the kitchen.

"Let me. You haven't fed this morning. I'll get it. Sit down and give your brain a rest."

"I can't," he answered, glancing back up the stairs. "Not as long as she's like this."

"I know. Just--give yourself a few minutes before you go back up there. Go on; sit down."
***
Willow looked across at the locked bedroom door. She had sent Spike after coffee just to get him out of the room for a few minutes, but she could hear his footsteps as he approached the room from the hallway, and she silently cursed him for returning so quickly.

The redhead desperately wanted to be alone, even for just an hour. She had been certain if she just maintained a reserved silence he would give up in a day or two and let her leave. But that day or two had turned into a week, and except for a few brief excursions downstairs and fifteen minutes once an evening to grab a quick shower, the blonde vampire had never left her side.

She had even gone so far as to lock herself in the bathroom under the pretense of the world's longest bath. However, that plan had been thwarted when, after ten minutes, Spike had shouted a warning that if she didn't reappear within five minutes, he was breaking down the door and coming in after her. That had occurred on her second day of captivity, and she had
not attempted the idea since.

Spike entered the room and relocked the door and extended the mug of hot coffee to her. She took it and immediately turned away from him. Not once had he attempted any physical contact with her, except for the occasional gentle hand, and even then, he acquiesced in silence whenever she drew away from his touch. His constant presence, his long soft monologues that continued on unabated no matter how obviously she was ignoring him, were beginning to wear on her.

"Please, Spike. Could I have just a few more minutes?" she asked, not looking around at him.

"Do you know how beautiful you are when you're sleeping?" he asked as though he had not heard her. "I spent hours watching you that night we made love, after you'd drifted to sleep beside me. I've watched you every night, in this room, as well."

She turned to face him and tried again, "Please?"

"You love me, Willow," he smiled over at her. "You may not want to. You may want me to believe that you don't. But you do."

She lowered her head and shook it softly, and he watched as her stony mask fell into place. However, that slight glimmer of the old Willow she had let slip before he had left her a few minutes ago had provided the vampire with hope he had not felt in months.

"You know what I liked most about making love to you?" he continued, a gleam of mischief lighting his eyes. "Actually, there were a lot of things I liked, but one of them was the way you looked up at me when you breathed my name. No one's ever made me feel that way,
luv. Not Dru, not anybody."

She set the mug on the nightstand and walked around the bed, distancing herself from him as much as possible. He watched as she willed herself to shut his words out, then rounded the bed to stand so close to her side, she could feel his cool body next to hers.

He lowered his head until his mouth was mere inches from her ear and whispered, "Where are you, sweetheart? Where do you go when you pull away like this? Do you go back to that night, too?"

He moved closer still, careful not to actually touch her and lowered his voice until it was hardly a whisper, "You want me, Willow."

She shook her head slightly and took a step away. He chuckled and followed her movements.

"You'd feel a whole lot better if you'd just admit it. I'm not going anywhere Willow. You can't deny me forever."

She raised her head, turning it to look up at him, and he reacted instinctively, lowering his mouth to capture hers. The taste of her sweet breath on his lips was almost ecstasy for him. Almost. His heart ached at her complete lack of response, but he stubbornly shoved the sharp disappointment away as he broke the soft kiss.

"Like fine wine," his words carried a cockiness that he certainly did not feel. "Decidedly chilled wine, but wine all the same."

Willow moved around him with an icy glare, "Go away."

"Where would I go without you, pet?" he smiled back at her, reveling in the small note of anger in her voice. "You're my whole unlife. I love you."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. It isn't true."

"You know it is. You're glad it is," he told her.

She headed for the bathroom door, but he was behind her immediately, placing his hand on it and banging it closed before she could open it more than an inch or two. His arms came down on either side of her as she turned and pressed her back against the door.

"Yes, pet, yes," he mind crowed in triumph as her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Don't do this. Please don't do this," she implored him.

He willed the tears that were forming in her eyes to spill over her cheeks even as she fought to control them. Willow clenched her jaw and shook her head, stubbornly forcing them away.

"I love you," he said as he stepped into her, pressing his body against hers.

"It does not matter," she responded coldly, enunciating each word, drilling them forcefully into
her own mind. "I will never put myself in that position again."

"I'll never put you in that position again. And it does matter," he contended, watching in dread as she visibly fought to regain her mental distance. "Because in spite of everything, you love me."

Her eyes suddenly hardened, and the vampire's body went rigid as the well-constructed wall slammed down around her emotions with a force he fancied he could literally feel. This time, when her eyes returned to his, they were as cold and unfeeling as they had ever been.

"I think I'd like my coffee now, while it's still warm," she said, effectively ending their
confrontation.

His hands dropped to his sides as she stepped around him, and he felt the overwhelming urge to pick up the nearest item to hand and fling it into the wall.

"She won't make it easy for you," his sire's words echoed in the blonde vampire's ears, and Spike struggled to regain his control. He turned to find Willow propped up against the headboard of the bed, sipping her coffee and flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Spike walked to the armchair and flopped down in it, stretching his long legs out over the ottoman. He stared at her in silence for several minutes.

"Have I mentioned that I love you, sweetheart?" he asked loudly.

The redhead's eyes never left the magazine, but Spike smiled to himself as her body tensed ever so slightly.
 

"Heads up," Cordelia said as she preceded Doyle through the door. "There's a bitch following us, and it's wearing blonde hair."

Spike snorted in amusement as he paused at the bottom of the stairs. Angel stood and looked over at him.

"Need me to stay?" his childe offered.

"No," he shook his head. "The last time she was here, she threatened to drag Willow out of here. You'd better go up and stay with her."

Spike nodded and took the stairs two at a time, disappearing from view as Buffy came through the door. She looked around at the trio, her eyes finally settling on the dark vampire.

"I came to apologize," she said softly.

He stood in silence, waiting for her to continue.

"I know you're only trying to help Will. I may not agree with the way you're going about it, but I know you mean well."

"That's good," Angel nodded. "But she isn't leaving here, Buffy. If you've come here to try to--"

"I haven't. I'm not going to lie to you. I want no part of what you guys are doing here, but I talked to Giles, and even he takes your side. I won't interfere, as long as Willow is safe."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Cordelia's eyes narrowed defensively. "You think we're going to hurt her?"

"Not intentionally," Buffy answered. "But I still think you're putting way too much trust in Spike."

"Listen," Angel spoke. "You're the one who dragged him into all this to begin with. Whether you want to believe it or not, he really does love her. He hasn't tried to force her to do anything she hasn't wanted to do."

"Other than refusing to let her out of that dusty old room," the slayer responded dryly.

"I'm not going to argue this with you--"

"I didn't come here to argue," she assured him, then looked over at Cordelia and Doyle. "I'd really rather not discuss this in front of them."

"Should I feel insulted?" Doyle asked Cordelia.

"Consider the source," she replied and shot Buffy a withering glance before tugging him off to the kitchen.

The slayer sighed and walked to the fireplace, sitting down and looking up at Angel, "I'd like to see her. Just for a minute--"

"No," he said firmly.

"Angel, I don't understand you! You know me better than anyone else! I--"

"Yes, I do. That's why you aren't going up there," he told her. "You'll start in on her and make everything worse."

"Thank you!" she shouted angrily. "So, everyone else gets to see her except me? Out of everyone involved, I'm the one person you don't trust?"

"No one else has seen her, either," he informed her.

She rose to her feet, staring incredulously at him, "Are you telling me the only person she's been with for the past week is Spike? What the hell are you thinking? You don't have any idea how she is, do you?"

"Damn it, Buffy," he snarled. "I know what I'm doing. Spike is not going to hurt her. He's the one person who can help her. Why can't you see that? Does your hatred for him cloud your thinking so badly that you can't admit he's the best thing for her?"

"Okay, okay," she raised her hands in surrender. "I don't trust him, but I do trust you. Gods, I didn't even come here to get into all of this again. I really just wanted to tell you that if I can do anything to help, I will."

Angel's voice softened, and he gave her a weak smile, "The best thing you can do for her right now is to give her some time. I know she's been locked up in there for a long time, and I understand why you're worried. I really do. But he's making progress."

"Is he?" she asked hopefully. "What kind of progress?"

"Nothing earth-shattering, yet," he admitted. "But she's starting to open up--just a little bit and just for a short time before she closes back down again--but it's a start."

She considered this for a moment before finally nodding, "Yes, it is. It's better than the rest of us have been able to do. Maybe I really am wrong about Spike. For what it's worth, Angel, I really hope that I am."

"I know," he said softly.

"Okay. I'm going to get out of your way," she said and began to walk toward the door.

She stopped as she felt his hand on he arm, and she turned back to look up at him.

"I know how hard this if for you, Buffy. This isn't about you being in the way, not really. What Willow needs from the all of us is just to be patient while Spike does the rest."

"And I'm not the most patient of people, especially where he's concerned," the slayer smiled. "But I'll learn to be, if that's what Will needs me to do."

His hand brushed over her cheek as he returned her gentle smile, "It is. Thank you. And, um, I'm sorry about hitting you."

"Even if you do think I deserved it for doubting your beloved--," she stopped herself with a grin and folded her hand over his. "No, forget that. Anyway, I'm the one who owes you the thanks--for trying to help Will. See you later, okay?"
***
Spike was trying to keep his attention on Willow, but his mind kept wandering back down the stairs. The fact that he was distracted and strangely on edge was clearly apparent to the small redhead.

The vampire looked over to find her watching him closely, and couldn't decide whether her eyes reflected concern or merely relief that he had spoken less than three sentences since he had returned. He hoped it was the former. He was afraid it was the latter. Making up his mind to trust his sire to remove any obstacles the slayer might throw in their already rocky path, he moved over to the bed and sat down beside her.

"Miss me?" he asked, gracing her with a smug grin.

"Like a migraine," she answered, then frowned at herself for letting that small bit of sarcasm slip.

He chuckled softly and smoothed a strand of hair away from her shoulder, "I miss you. All the time."

"You're always here," she told him in the same level tone he had become accustomed to hearing from her.

"And you're always--not," he responded. "If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?"

"Maybe," she shrugged.

"What would it take to convince you I'm sorry, that I never meant to hurt you, that the only thing I really want is to love you?"

"Why should I answer that?" she asked sincerely.

"Because I'd like to know, so I could do whatever it is that you need," he relied.

"You won't listen, anyway. You won't believe what I say."

"Try me," he suggested.

"All right," she conceded and stood up, taking several paces away from the bed and turning around to face him. "I don't want you to convince me of any of those things. I want you to let me out of here. I want to live my own life, and I want you to live yours—away from me."

"But you don't live, pet," he told her, refusing to let her cold declarations pierce through to his heart. "You just exist, just barely. Don't you miss the person you used to be, Willow?"

"I hate her," she answered calmly.

Spike moaned softly and rose to stand before her, reaching for her hands and holding them gently, "Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth," she asserted.

"Then tell me why you hate her."

She shrugged casually, "Because she let people hurt her--"

"Luv, it wasn't as if she had a choice. The hurting was done _to_ her, not _because_ of her."

"I don't want to talk about this with you," she decided.

"Or anyone else," he added. "You say you want me to give up and just let you go. Why should I do that? Explain it to me, so I'll understand. Who knows? You may even convince me you're right. Worth a shot, isn't it?"

"Don't ever go into psychiatry. You'd be really awful at it," she said coldly.

"What's that? An excuse to get out of explaining yourself? You're just afraid I'll be able to argue any valid point you think you have."

"I don't care if you can," she told him.

"Fine. So if you don't care, what's the difference if you tell me?"

She shook her hands free of his, and he turned to follow her with his eyes as she began to wander the room.

"Will you listen?" she asked, bringing her eyes to his. "Will you be quiet and just listen?"

He nodded.

"Okay," she agreed, and he waited while she took a moment to organize her thoughts. "Everyone thought I was devastated when Oz left, and I was, for a long time. He was the first person I ever opened myself up to. The first guy I ever really let all the way in. You know what I mean?"

He nodded again.

"After he left me, it hurt--like nothing I'd ever felt before. And I felt betrayed that he got to decide what was best for the both of us, that my point of view--what I wanted and needed--didn't count. He was just gone, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. But I was really moving past it. I was finally admitting that he didn't define who I was. I was even beginning to think that maybe he was the one who lost out. And do you know why I was beginning to feel that way?"

He swallowed, knowing he didn't want to hear what was coming and at the same time knowing he couldn't stop it. She needed to say it, no matter how much it hurt him.

"Because of all the hours I spent with _you,_" she continued. "You made me believe I had something to give. Something real. Something valuable. You sucked me in so far, with your lies and deceit, I was actually believing you saw those attributes in me, and you liked them, and you wanted them, and you wanted me."

His eyes shifted away from hers as his heart clenched in his chest, but she continued on with no trace of bitterness, no anger. She sounded for all the world as if she were discussing something of no importance with someone who was of equally no importance.

"And then that night, at the Bronze, when I accidentally walked in on the three of you, the truth
slapped me right in the face. Everything we'd shared, every second we'd spent together was a farce. A means to shut me up so my friends wouldn't have to listen to me prattling on about something," here she paused and waited for him to look at her again, "that shouldn't have mattered in the first place. He betrayed me. They betrayed me. You betrayed me. And it hurt like hell. And it shouldn't have, but it did. Because I let it. I let all of it matter. It took weeks, after I left town, to figure it all out. But I did, finally. I ended up hurting because I cared. It won't happen again."

Spike was staring at her; any hopes that he had made any progress with her whatsoever now lay dashed into thousands of sharp shards of pain at his feet.

"You can keep me here until I turn to dust and blow away. I learned my lesson, Spike. I learned it well. Never again will I be anyone's fool."

The blonde vampire moved to the door on legs he was unable to feel underneath him, exiting the room and turning the key in the lock. From downstairs, Angel heard the door close. A pang of alarm shot through him when his childe failed to appear, and he bolted from his seat at the fireplace and dashed up to him.

Spike was seated on the topmost step, his knees tucked up close to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs. The rigid posture of his body, the stunned expression on his face, shook his sire far worse than sobs of pain would have done.

"Spike," Angel murmured, sitting down next to him and draping an arm around his shoulders. "Gods, Spike. What happened?"

"It won't work," the reply was painfully strained with loss. "I can't get through to her--"

"Yes, you can. You are," he hushed him, leaning his head against his childe's. "Spike, tell me what happened."

"I've lost her, Angel. She's gone," he whispered and turned and leaned his head against his sire's chest as silent tears began to flow.
 

Angel dragged Spike into the living room and shoved him down in front of the warming fire. He listened intently, dark eyes fixed upon the blonde vampire, as Spike repeated, almost verbatim, everything that Willow had said to him.

Cordelia clutched tightly at Doyle's arm and cast her worried gaze on the blonde vampire while Angel went to the kitchen to warm a mug of blood for Spike and to give himself a few minutes to think over what Willow had said. He returned and sat down and handed the mug to Spike, who wordlessly accepted it only to stare down into its contents.

"Drink it," his sire ordered quietly and smoothed a gentle hand over the back of his blonde hair.

Cordy inhaled a shaky breath and looked up at the half-demon standing close to her side, "This is so not good."

"Actually, it might be," Angel contradicted her.

Spike's eyes moved quickly to his, but Angel shook his head and placed his palm under the mug, pushing it gently up to his childe's lips.

"Not until you drink that," he insisted.

Spike quickly complied, draining the mug and setting it down on the floor beside his feet, then returned his gaze to Angel.

"Do you realize what happened up there a few minutes ago?"

Spike's expression grew anguished, and a bolt of pain flashed through his eyes, "I failed her. I shot any chance I had of getting her back straight to hell."

Angel's hand encircled the blonde vampire's forearm and squeezed firmly, as if willing some of his own strength directly into his languishing childe, "No, Spike, you didn't. You drew out of her exactly what the rest of us have been trying to get at ever since we found her, and you brought her back here. I think I came close, a few days ago. At least, I think that's what she was going to tell me. But I couldn't get her to take that last step, to open up to either herself or to me, and tell me exactly what drove her to escape inside herself."

"But what difference does it make? It didn't matter to her if I knew," Spike replied.

"Of course it mattered to her. Why else would she have been so reluctant to voice it all these weeks? She hasn't wanted anyone to understand. Understanding implies some sort of connection. She's been fighting that with all of us. Spike, you got it out of her. She may not know it, but it's a huge step. I don't think she could have said all of that to anyone other than
you."

"You think?" he asked, a hesitant tone of hope creeping into his voice.

He nodded, "And you shouldn't be down here right now. You should be up there, with her. My guess is she's regretting she ever admitted all of that to you."

"I don't know," Spike said softly, looking over toward the stairs. "You didn't hear her. There was no emotion in her voice whatsoever."

"How badly do you want her back?" the question was voiced as a challenge, and Angel forced back a grin as Spike's body tensed. "Everything she says, every unspoken action, is calculated to keep you at a distance. She's had months--since long before we found her in L.A.--to forge that shield she holds up in front of her. You've changed, Spike. You've had to, just to survive. Maybe you're not strong enough, anymore, to--"

"Like hell I'm not," the blonde vampire snarled as he rose to his feet. "She thinks she's stubborn? She hasn't even MET bloody stubborn."

Angel grinned over at Doyle as Spike stomped toward the stairs. He vaulted onto the third step from the bottom, turned around, and looked down at his sire.

"Thanks, mate," he smiled knowingly.

Angel laughed softly and gave him a nod.
***
Willow rose from the armchair as the key turned in the lock. Spike stepped inside and banged the door closed behind him, locking it yet again, and looked at her.

"Hey, pet," he smiled over at her.

Warily, she took in the bright glimmer in his eyes, "I told you what you wanted to hear. Are you going to let me leave, now?"

He crossed the room and gently pushed her back down into the chair, then plopped down on the ottoman in front of her.

"I heard you out, right?" he said.

She nodded.

"Right. Your turn."

"My turn? For what?"

"To hear me out, of course, ducks," he answered.

"I've been hearing you out for a week," she pointed out.

"Yeah, well," he responded, propping his elbows on the arms of the chair and bringing his mouth to within inches of hers. "Indulge me."

"Okay," she nodded, though a flash of uneasy confusion passed over her face.

"I love you, Willow," he began, cutting off her attempt to respond to his words. "I guess I can
understand why you don't want to hear that, but I'm going to keep saying it until you do. I'm sorry for what happened. And you're right; you were betrayed—by the wolf, by your friends, by me. But I'm not entirely sorry about that."

"You're not?" she repeated icily.

"Nope. Because what started out as a betrayal, and may I remind you, I was dragged into that scheme--I liked you. The slayer knew it, and she used it."

"You didn't have to agree to--"

"Shut up, beautiful," he demanded. "As I was saying, what started out as a betrayal ending up with me falling in love with you. And you with me."

He stopped and stared into her eyes, daring her to deny his last statement. When she didn't, he nodded in satisfaction and went on.

"So, in a way, that betrayal was the best thing that ever happened to either of us. No one is ever going to love you the way I do. And if you're going to be brutally honest with yourself--and I can't imagine that you wouldn't be, since you like brutal honesty so well--you're never going to love anybody else the way you love me."

"I don't. I don't care, anymore--"

"Someone in this room is lying, pet," he said softly. "I know you love me."

She shook her head as his mouth moved ever closer to hers.

"Want me to kiss the truth out of you?"

"No," she whispered, desperation seeping into her voice.

"Might be fun," he grinned wickedly, realizing she hadn't even heard the admission implicitly stated in that single word.

"Spike," the word was spoken in warning.

"Yes, luv," he answered, his lips brushing ever so softly against hers.

"I do not--"

"Love me," he turned the declaration around on her and captured her lips in a firm kiss.

Her body remained motionless; she neither returned the kiss nor moved to break it, and his lips curled into a soft grin against hers.

"Love me," he repeated against her mouth before kissing her once again.

"I can't," she refused, placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing him away to rise and walk around him.

"Yes, you can. I won't hurt you again. I never wanted to hurt you in the first place."

"But you did. They all did. I won't allow--"

"I'm learning a few things from you," he cut her off.

"What?" she asked, completely thrown by the statement.

"Like how to just ignore what you don't want to hear," he smiled. "You don't want to hear that I love you, and I don't want to hear that you don't love me. Works out okay, don't you think?"

She shook her head and turned her back to him as he suddenly rose to his feet, "I won't let you do this."

"Doesn't matter--isn't that how that phrase goes?" he asked. "I'm going to do it, anyway."

"Come on, pet, get angry," he pleaded silently, hoping against hope to see her drop the stony wall, even for just a moment. He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her around to him.

"You shouldn't do that, luv."

"Do what?" she asked tonelessly.

"Turn away when I get too close, especially if you really want me to believe you don't give a damn. Hiding your face from me is a dead give-away."

"I don't know what you want from me."

"Of course you do," he replied. "Tell me you love me."

"Will you back off if I do?"

He chuckled softly, "What? You're going to recite those words with no expression at all, and then I'm supposed to fade out of your life? First of all, you CAN'T say those words without feeling them, because you do, and we both know it. And second of all, hell no, I won't back off. I'll move closer."

"Then why should I bother to say them at all?" she asked coldly.

He shrugged, "Because they're the truth."

"Since when can you read my mind?"

"I can't read your mind, but I can read your heart because I'm in there."

He took a step forward as she took one back.

"Why did you tell me all of that--all of what you felt before you ran off?" he questioned her.

"Because you asked me."

"So did Angel, or so he says. But you wouldn't tell him. So why tell me?"

"I wanted you to let me out of here."

He shook his head, "You wanted me to know. You wanted me to feel what you felt, to know what the pain that drove you away cost you. Because of all the people that it matters to, I'm the one you WANT it to matter to."

"No. I only wanted you out--"

"You wanted me in. It does matter to you, Willow. It matters that I love you. It matters that I know how you've hurt."

"Stop it," she demanded.

"I love you, Willow."

"I don't care!" she hissed.

"You do. You care. You know you--"

Her hand lashed out, slapping him hard across the face, and she gasped as she let her arm fall away. Spike held an unneeded breath as the tears welled up in her eyes. Willow backed away from him until the wall stopped her retreat, and she sank to the floor as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Immediately, he was at her side, sliding down next to her and holding her tightly against him.

"I don't care. I don't care," she chanted softly through her sobs, balling the hands that rested
against his chest into tight fists.

He shushed her quietly, brushing his lips softly against her wet cheek as he rocked her trembling body in his arms.
 

Spike held Willow until her tears subsided, and her body gave into the mental and physical exertion it had been subjected to. Not wanting to relinquish the sweet warmth of her in his arms, he continued to stroke her hair, whispering softly to her until, with one soft shuddering breath, her eyes closed in sleep.

Carefully, he lifted her and carried her to the bed, flicking back the covers and laying her gently down. He pulled the blanket up close to her chin and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. He watched her for several silent minutes before tracing her jawline with a finger and turning to leave the room.
***
"Hey," Angel smiled softly as Spike came into the kitchen and hitched his body up onto the counter.

"I don't suppose you've got any vodka tucked inside that cooler?" the blonde vampire asked with a wry grin.

"Well," his sire responded, opening a bottom cupboard and pulling out a bottle of Irish Whiskey, "Compliments of Doyle."

"It'll do," Spike nodded, taking the bottle and opening it.

"How did it go up there?" Angel asked.

"I don't know, really," he answered and took a long swallow. "What does breaking down in shuddering sobs sound like to you?"

"You, or her?" the dark vampire asked.

Spike grinned, but the look of amusement passed as quickly as it came, "I don't know what I've done to her, Angel. I may have pushed too hard."

He shook his head in disbelief, "From you, of all people."

"Bloody insane, isn't it?" Spike agreed. "Where is your sidekick and his bosomy-buddy, anyway?"

"He took her out for pizza."

"Still get sick of the sight of you brooding, do they?" Spike teased.

"You're one to talk."

His childe shrugged, "Like father, like--"

"Yeah, I hear you," Angel smiled. "Really broke down, did she?"

"Damn near tore my useless heart out," Spike nodded. "What's going to happen when she wakes up?"

"Damn, I knew I'd forgotten something," he answered. "I left my crystal ball back in L.A."

"Angel--"

"I'm sorry," he placed a hand on Spike's shoulder. "I wish I could tell you. We can always hope she'll be back to her old self."

"But you don't think so."

"I think she's invested too much time and energy in holding you off to give up so easily."

"Easily?" Spike repeated. "Bloody hell. I'd hate to see hard."

"Brace yourself, then," his sire warned him. "Because that's probably just what you're going to see."

"You know what I'd like?"

"To crawl into bed next to Willow?"

"Well, there's that," Spike grinned.

"Tell me."

"I'd like, just once, for you to be wrong."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Angel quipped. "I'm right about one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"She needs you, Spike."

He took another long pull from the bottle of whiskey, "Not half as bloody much as I need her."
***
Willow slept soundly for several hours while Spike hovered close to her and shored up his mental reserves for what he feared may lie ahead. At the first sign of stirring from the large bed, he dashed downstairs to fix her something to eat.

When he returned, carrying a cup of coffee and a plate of toast, she was sitting up in bed, pillows propped against the headboard, staring mutely across the room. Spike placed the toast on the nightstand and handed her the cup. Without returning his concerned gaze, she took several sips of the hot liquid. He took the cup from her and pushed the plate into her hands.

"Finish this, luv, and then maybe you'd like to take a shower?" he suggested softly.

She followed his instructions without responding, and when she finished, he took her hand and pulled her out of the bed.

"Doyle brought some fresh towels," he told her, stopping beside the dresser to pull out a clean pair of sweats. "Take all the time you want, pet. I won't disturb you."

He closed the bathroom door after her and waited until he heard the water turn on before sinking into the armchair to wait for her.

Willow stepped under the soothing spray of warm water and let it flow down over her face as she shampooed her hair. Her hands trembled as she reached for the soap and lathered her body, but she bit back the urge to cry as she rinsed herself off and turned off the tap. Reaching for a towel as she stepped out of the tub, she dried herself off before pulling on the sweatpants and what was obviously one of Spike's t-shirts. She paused in front of the mirror to pull a brush through her wet hair. Staring back at her reflection, she let the brush fall to the floor and raised her hand to touch the image looking back out at her.

Her mind railed against the weakness that had betrayed her out in the bedroom several hours ago. Months of steeling herself against all of the pain that had shattered her heart had been obliterated in the tears she had wept. Betrayal, the word echoed in her thoughts, and this time she had done it to herself. Willow hated the part of her that had relished the feel of the blonde vampire's strong arms around her, his soft, reassuring voice whispering close to her ear.

"Words," the mocking eyes in the mirror seemed to whisper back to her. "His words, your words. You let them get to you. Words have always been your undoing, fool. You never did know when to keep your mouth shut."

Willow stooped down and retrieved the hairbrush from where it had fallen at her feet. Angrily, she yanked it through the wet knots in her hair. She shoved the coppery strands behind her ears and threw the brush down on the counter.

Glaring back at her reflection, she hissed to herself, "No more words."
 
 
 

Spike had been trying to get Willow to speak to him since she had emerged from the shower. He had cajoled, pleaded, joked, goaded, but she had remained stubbornly silent. Her face displayed more emotion than he had seen in days, but she refused to utter so much as a syllable in response to him.

The vampire was floored by the redhead's renewed distance after having held her weeping body so recently. He would have liked to have taken her by the shoulders and rattled the words out of her still lips, and it frustrated him beyond bearing that he was powerless to do so. He could feel the rage building inside him as she stared at him with a defiant grin on her lips.

"What the hell is it going to take to get through to you?" he asked hotly as he turned to look at her. "I know what you want, Willow. You want me to let you out of this room, to let you escape into your own isolated world and just walk away from you. I'm not going to do
that. I'm going to stay in your face and force you to listen until you scream."

Her eyes flickered up to him at the sharp tone in his voice, and he went to the bed and leaned down close to her.

"Angel warned me about you, you know. He told me to expect you to crawl right back inside yourself. Well, sweetheart, I'm crawling right in after you. Why are you so bloody afraid to talk to me, pet? What is it you're afraid you're going to say? You can't shut me out, Willow. I won't let you. Talk to me, damn it!"

She opened her mouth to speak and promptly shut it again.

"Come on, Willow. Say it," he demanded.

She took a breath and nodded once, "I've said everything that needed to be said. I'm not going to talk about this--or anything else--with you, anymore."

"Obviously you *haven't* said everything you need to," he argued. "I listened to you. I understood what you told me. So, why close up on me now? You know I'll listen. All I want is to help you, pet."

"I don't need your help," she stated and scooted across the bed and leaned back against the pillows, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing her arms over her chest.

He stared at her for a long minute before she grabbed up the magazine lying on the nightstand and began to thumb through its pages. Spike drew back and stood up. He walked to the door and looked back over at her.

"I got through to you once, luv. I'll do it again," he promised her quietly before leaving the room. "Or had you forgotten how I love a good challenge?"

As he closed the door, her fingers curled around the pages of the magazine, and she tossed it angrily across the bed.
***
"Well?" Cordy questioned as Spike entered the living room.

He growled and flung himself down onto the tattered sofa that Doyle had somehow managed to drag over from beside the Salvation Army bin in the supermarket parking lot.

"She's decided she isn't going to talk to me, anymore," he explained. "She told me she's said
everything she needed to say, and then she went quiet on me."

Angel looked over at him from the fireplace.

"You know, I'm beginning to wonder if the chit's really worth all the bother," Doyle admitted. "I mean, sure, she's a looker, but--"

He decided to keep the rest of that thought to himself as Spike and Angel glared threateningly at him.

"So, how is he supposed to badger anything out of Willow if she's decided to totally shut up?" Cordelia asked Angel.

"Maybe there's nothing left to badger out of her," he answered.

Spike's blue eyes swam with pain as he looked at his sire, "Angel, I can't--"

"No," the dark vampire smiled softly. "I'm not suggesting that you should give up. I'm just
suggesting that maybe she meant exactly what she said."

Spike closed his eyes and dragged his hands through his hair, and his sire walked over and knelt in front of him, pulling Spike's hands down and holding them between his own.

"You know, it wasn't so long ago I wouldn't have thought you were capable of so much patience," his sire spoke quietly.

"I love her," Spike whispered, a note of raw sadness edging his words. "Angel, she won't even speak to me, now."

"I know," he gave his childe's hands a gentle squeeze. "But think about it for a minute, Spike. Maybe she really doesn't have any more to say. From the sounds of what went on up their earlier, she's already told you more than she ever intended. You got what you needed from her. She told you exactly what she's afraid of, why she's so determined not to let you—or anyone else--back in. She has to be beating herself up over that mistake. She's told you everything she
didn't want you to know. All she can do now is repeat it, and she's going to make sure that doesn't happen."

"But if she won't talk to me, how am I going to convince her that all I want is to make everything okay again?" Spike asked.

"_She_ doesn't have to talk to make that happen. You do."

"I've been trying to, for days."

"But you've got ammunition, now. She's more vulnerable now than she's been since you brought her home. She laid every last one of her fears at your feet. She can't hide behind that wall anymore because you've already seen all the way through it, and her silence doesn't change that."

Spike's eyes were staring intently into his sire's, grabbing hold of every soft word that he spoke.

"Up until this point, you've been prodding her, trying to get her to tell you what she needs to make things all right again. She's told you Spike, though she didn't mean to. Now, use it. Make her understand that you can give her what she needs."

The blonde vampire nodded and gave him a crooked grin, "Why is it you can make sense of all of this, and I can't?"

"Because you're standing in the middle of it. And it hurts."

Angel drew away as Spike stood up and went to the stairs.

"Amazing," Doyle murmured as the dark vampire moved to his side. "When you're done untying the tangle of a brain that we know as Willow, could you maybe have a go at Cordy for me?"

"My mind isn't a tangle!" the brunette protested defensively.

"Damn straight," Angel agreed as he headed back to the living room. "It's soup."

Doyle's snort ended in a loud grunt as Cordelia smacked him in the chest.
 
 
 

Willow had wriggled under the covers by the time Spike returned to the bedroom. He leaned against the door and smiled over at her.

"Want anything?" he offered.

She shook her head, and her wary eyes trailed him as he moved slowly over to her and perched on the edge of the bed.

"You must be done in, luv. You've had one hell of a day," he spoke so softly the redhead wasn't sure whether he was talking to her or to himself.

His eyes lingered on hers as he brushed his fingers through her hair in slow, easy strokes.

"You know what I think you need?" he asked quietly.

She waited silently for him to continue.

"You need to not hurt anymore," he paused, but his fingers continued their soothing movement through her fiery locks as her eyes studied his. "I guess that isn't very realistic, is it? You could build yourself a wall five miles high, and pain would still find a way to creep over the top. I proved that today, didn't I, pet? Just like I did all those months ago. I'm sorry you've been hurt so badly that you don't want to feel anymore. The problem with that kind of numbness is that it masks more than just the pain. It masks all the other feelings, as well--happiness, desire, love."

Her eyelids were growing heavy under his gentle touch and his soft words, and she struggled to keep from giving herself over to sleep.

He smiled down at her, "Go to sleep, luv. It's all right. I'm not leaving you. I had no intention of
leaving you before, no matter what the slayer might have said."

Spike stopped speaking as sleep finally won out, and Willow's eyes closed. Rising, he pulled off his boots and walked around the bed and laid down beside her, turning onto his side to watch her sleep. He reached over to caress the soft skin of her cheek and she nuzzled, unknowingly, into his cool touch.
***
Willow sat on the edge of the bed, absent-mindedly running a brush through her hair. Spike's attentions had changed so drastically, she couldn't make sense of his actions. She had awakened when he had entered the bedroom, carrying a tray of food for her. She had expected him to carry on with the same insistent discourse he had been subjecting her to since he had brought her here. But he had been in the room with her for over two hours, and he had yet to speak more than a few words to her.

She stole a quick look over at the blonde vampire who was sitting in the armchair. The smile he flashed back at her was missed by its target as her eyes darted away from him once again. Spike pushed himself up and walked slowly toward the bed.

"I've been thinking, pet," he said softly. "You want out of here, right?"

She nodded, and she set aside the hairbrush, her brow furrowing as she wondered where he was headed.

"Well, I'll make a deal with you," he continued as he shoved his hand into one of his pockets and pulled out the key to the bedroom door.

He dropped down beside her, turning the key over in his fingers before reaching for her hand, placing it in her open palm, and curling her fingers around it. Her mouth dropped open as she stared up at him.

"Like I said, I've been thinking," he repeated, grinning slightly. "You say you want me out of your life. I don't believe that. And I don't think you do, either. See, pet, I'm not the one who betrayed you, not really. I was played just like you were. And I'll tell you something else. I ended up hurting as much as you did. But I think you already know that, if you could look past all the pain and anger long enough to see it."

He stood up and took a couple of steps away from her, waving is arm toward the door, "You think I'm not hearing you, that I'm trying to keep you from deciding for yourself what it is that you want. So, there's your ticket to freedom, luv. Or your version of freedom, pathetic and lonely as it may be."

She rose from the bed, fully expecting him to stop her as she moved toward the door. When he didn't, she turned around to face him again.

"You're letting me go? Just like that?"

He smiled at the sound of her words, "I'll never let you go. I love you, Willow. What I'd really like would be for you to agree to stay here--just one more week--willingly. Maybe you can't do that. Maybe your pride or your fear or--whatever--won't let you. You can walk away, right now, if that's what you want. But you'll never get rid of me. I'll be the thought that keeps you awake at night. I'll be the dream that brings you sobbing out of a sound sleep. I'll be that
ache inside you that never dies. But I'll never be gone. And you know it."

She lowered her gaze to the floor, and he took her chin in his hand and turned her eyes back to him.

"I guess we'll be even, though, because you'll be all those things to me, too. I know you've been hurt, and I know I'm partly to blame because I let myself get dragged into the slayer's brainless plot. But I didn't betray you. I loved you, just as I told you I did that night you came with me to my place. All I want is one more week to try to make you understand that."

"Why here?" she asked.

"Because the slayer and the git will try to interfere if they know you've been given your freedom. I want the chance to work this out with you--just us--with no nasty little barbs being whispered in your ear by the people who _really_ betrayed you. You can walk out of here right now, or anytime during the next week. But I don't think that's what you really want to do. I don't believe you want to lose me any more than I want to lose you. And if you're honest with yourself, you know that I'm right."

A flicker of scared desperation flashed over her face, and he took her arms and stepped closer to her.

"I want one week of total honesty between the two of us, no matter how painful that honesty is. Can you do that, Willow? Can you be that honest with me, with yourself?"

"I don't know," she admitted softly.

He rested his palm against her soft cheek, "Will you try? Knowing that you can walk away anytime--I won't try to stop you--will you just try?"

Spike studied her eyes as she struggled within herself to find the strength to do what he asked her to do. The very idea of allowing herself to be so open with him frightened her witless, and she wasn't at all sure that she could do as he'd requested. The defiant side of her that she had cultivated for months told her that to refuse him would be to admit weakness. At the same time, a very small part of her, a part she had been willfully ignoring for just as long, cried out ever so weakly to be heard.

Her eyes refocused themselves on the vampire in front of her, and the knot in the Spike's stomach freed itself with a twinge of relief as she nodded slightly and whispered, "I'll try."
 
 
 

Cordelia jumped up off the sofa as a loud unintelligible shout drifted down from the upstairs
bedroom.

"Well, that's a good sign," Angel smiled.

"Good?" Cordy asked. "Good for what? Waking every demon on the hellmouth?"

"Spike must be getting something out of Willow," the vampire chuckled softly.

"And I have the feeling that even if the little red haired vixen managed to wake every demon on the Hellmouth, they'd take one look at her angry face and scurry right back to hell," Doyle added. "Anybody for taking a quiet trip up the stairs and having a wee listen at the keyhole?"

"Anybody for being the first wee demon to scurry right back to hell--minus two ears?" Cordelia replied dryly.

He winked at Angel, "That's her subtle way of saying she'd miss me."

The beautiful brunette rolled her eyes, "Suddenly, I understand Willow's need to scream."
***
Spike was enveloped in the fiery anger that lapped out with Willow's words, and he was loving every second of it.

"What the hell are you smirking about?" Willow demanded.

He laughed softly, "I did say I wanted honesty, didn't I?"

"I don't get you," she fumed. "Why didn't you just tell Buffy to go to hell? So what if she threatened to cut off your supply of blood? I'd have gotten it for you!"

"Luv, at that point in time, you wouldn't have blinked an eye without asking the bloody slayer which eye it should be. Anyway, when the whole thing started, I didn't really care how you'd feel about it."

Her anger abated with a burst of air at his frank admission, "Oh."

"I said 'when the whole thing started,' Willow," he repeated. "By the time I did care, I wasn't spending time with you to get my daily blood-in-a-mug. I just wanted to be with you."

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because I was in love with you. Fortunately, she and the git were both too daft to see it."

"You never said--"

"How could I? You were hurting over the wolf. He was all you talked about. I didn't realize you'd started to care about me--not like that, anyway. When you came back to my place, I never expected to hear you say you loved me."

"I guess that makes you as daft as Buffy and Xander," she suggested with a slow smile.

"Bite your tongue, pet," he grimaced. "You walked into the Bronze at the worst possible moment. You thought everything I'd told you that night was a lie. It wasn't. I meant it then. I mean it now. I love you."

She shook her head sadly, "You don't know how much a part of me wants to believe that."

"I think I do," he responded. "So, why can't you?"

"Because I can't afford to be wrong. I couldn't survive going through what I went through with Oz again," she answered. "He left me because I didn't deserve him. Why should I believe that you--"

"That's bullshit, luv," the vampire interrupted, as he moved over to her pushed her down onto the armchair. "The wolf left you because HE didn't deserve YOU, and he knew it. I don't give a bloody damn whether I deserve you or not. I love you. I want you. I'm not leaving you. But you already know that, don't you?"

She looked up at him in a mixture of confusion and anger, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you accusing me of lying? You wanted honesty. That's exactly what I'm giving you."

"You've been running from honesty for so long, you wouldn't recognize it if you ran face-first into it," he told her. "You're the one who took off, luv, not me. You were gone for months. Maybe you never intended to come back, but you knew I was here. You knew, no matter how far away from Sunnyhell you were, I was right here. If you were so angry or upset or whatever,
why the hell didn't you tell ME to leave?"

"I've said it a couple of hundred times since," she reminded him angrily.

"You've asked me to leave you alone. You've asked me to let you go. But you've never asked me to leave town. I literally handed you the key out of Sunnyhell, and you're still here," he leaned down closer to her. "Why is that, pet?"

Willow's eyes shifted uncomfortably away from him.

"You know why, don't you? Because gone—really gone--it NOT where you want me. You love me, and you can't get around it," he placed his fingers on her cheek and drew her eyes back to him. "As hard as you've fought it, I've gotten through to you, Willow. And you haven't stopped breathing. You haven't crumbled into non-existence. Do you like being close to me again?"

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came forth. He smiled and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I know you do. You think needing me makes you weak. You think I'll lose interest and really leave you, eventually," he continued. "But you're wrong, pet. You're strong enough to survive the only broken heart you're ever going to experience. You're strong enough to keep my desire for eternity. I won't leave you, Willow."

He could see her struggling to accept what he said, and he drew back and stood up, his eyes mirroring the challenge implicit in his words, "You're a coward, pet. You're too scared to take what you want, so you pretend to everyone--including yourself--that you don't want it."

She pushed herself out of the chair, her eyes burning with anger, and flung herself at him, slamming his body back against the wall.

His hands moved to her waist as he steadied himself, and he repeated the maddening word, "Cow--"

Her lips stopped his as she grabbed his head and yanked it down to hers. Spike pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her as she ravaged his mouth angrily.

She pulled away, breathing heavily, and hissed, "I'm not a coward!"

"No? Then admit that you want me," he dared her with a smug grin.

"I--" she stopped and looked up into his intense blue eyes.

He had twisted every thought she had spent months carefully weaving in her mind until she couldn't find a way to untangle them quickly enough.

"Okay. Then tell me a lie, if that's easier," he offered. "Tell me you want me out of your life,
forever."

"I--I can't think," she stammered, trying to turn away from him.

"Who the bloody hell said anything about thinking?" he asked, yanking her back to him. "You think too damned much."

He crushed his mouth to hers and drew her body flush against his, teasing her lips until they had no choice but to respond. He felt her arms slowly snaking around his neck, and he leaned back against the wall, pulling her with him, and deepened the kiss.
***
"It's gone awfully quiet up there," Cordy fretted.

Angel paused in his reading only long enough to nod.

"Well, aren't you worried?" she asked.

"Not really."

"Maybe they've killed each other!"

"Not likely," he answered.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Spike can't kill," Doyle reminded her.

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, her concern only slightly alleviated as she walked toward the entryway and peered up the stairs. "Still--"

"It's gone awfully quiet up there," Doyle echoed and looked over at Angel. "Too quiet."

"But not deathly quiet," the vampire assured him.

"Then what is it?" he asked.

"Lip-lock," Angel grinned.
 
 

Willow pushed herself away from the heated kiss and stepped back from Spike. He resisted the urge to pull her back to him as she moved toward the door.

"What do you want, Willow?" he asked.

She looked back at him, "Out of here."

Momentarily stunned by her answer, he simply stared after her as she walked out of the room. He shook himself and took off after her as she made her way down the stairs. The brief surge of panic that twisted his stomach ebbed as the redhead turned, not toward the door, but toward the living room. He caught up with her as she stopped and looked over at Angel.

"Hello," he said softly, rising from the sofa.

She nodded, and her body stiffened slightly as Spike's hand met her shoulder, but she did not step away from his touch.

"How are you, Willow?" Angel asked.

"I'm fine," she repeated mechanically.

Spike shot his sire an apprehensive look as she moved away from him, and Angel gave him a small smile and shook his head.

"I guess I should thank you for my comfortable prison," Willow said. "Since you seem to be the one responsible for it."

"You are your own prison," he told her softly.

"You seem to think you know a lot about me, for someone who's been gone longer than I have," she remarked.

"I know a lot about pain and the lengths one will go to in order to escape it."

She nodded in concession, "I suppose you do."

"Looks like you're free, now, though," he continued, piercing her with his eyes. "Or are you?"

She shrugged and walked to the fireplace, turning her back to its flames, "Spike says I'm a coward."

"What do you say?" he asked her.

"When I was four years old, I placed a finger on the orange coil of a stove burner to see if it was hot. I never did it again."

"Did your mum kiss it and make it better?" Spike asked knowingly.

The subtle insight flustered Willow, and her gaze fell away from the two vampires.

"I need to find a place to stay," she changed the subject.

"Why not stay here?" Angel offered.

"Because I need a place where I can be alone."

"You've been alone--too much, Willow," Spike said.

"I haven't been alone enough for the past week," she shot back. "I need a place that's just mine. A place where you can't talk circles around sense and play with my thoughts until even I can't understand them."

"I haven't said anything that hasn't been the truth, no matter how badly you'd like to deny it," he
insisted.

"I didn't deny it up there, did I?" she responded. "I am a coward. I admit it. I'm scared to death--"

"Why?" Angel asked.

She kept her eyes on the blonde vampire as she answered, "Because maybe I believe everything you've told me. Maybe I do want to be with you, but maybe I'm too scared to open myself up like that again. Spike, you know what it feels like to have the one person who
meant everything to you walk out of your life."

"Yes, I do," he agreed. "But I also know what it feels like to realize that person doesn't mean everything to you, anymore. I was always second-choice to Drusilla because she wasn't the one who was meant to be with me. It took playing the lab rat, having my brains fried, and falling in love with you to make me understand that. Willow, you don't love Oz. You wouldn't have slept with me if you did. You wouldn't have told me you love me."

She turned away from him as images of that night flooded her memory, "But it still hurts, the way he left, the way Buffy and Xander--"

"So you move past it, luv. You get to the point where it doesn't hurt, anymore."

"But I haven't gotten there, yet," she told him, her voice quivering slightly.

Angel laid a hand on her shoulder, "Yes, you did, Willow. You'd moved past it when you admitted to Spike how you felt about him before you found out what Buffy had done."

"But that whole thing turned out to be a lie," she said.

"Spike didn't lie to you, did he?" he asked gently. "Buffy knew he couldn't refuse to go along with her plan, but falling in love with you wasn't a betrayal."

She looked around at the blonde vampire, "I--"

"Angel?" Buffy's voice called out from the door. "How is--Willow! You're--you've been--"

"Paroled," Willow nodded.

"Oh, Will!" Buffy breathed and threw her arms around her friend.

"Don't," the redhead ordered and pushed the slayer away from her.

A flicker of a grin passed over Angel's face as the redhead took an unconscious step closer to Spike.

"You're still angry," Buffy said.

"Angry? Try mad as hell," Willow answered, and Spike jumped slightly as he felt her pressing her hand into his.

"I never meant to hurt you," the slayer told her.

"Meaning..." Willow paused and looked down as she realized where she had placed her hand.

Spike arched an eyebrow as she looked up at him, and he tightened his grip as she tried to pull her hand out of his, "What the hell, pet, leave it there."

Angel chuckled softly as a flicker of petulance passed over her face, and he bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud when she did, indeed, leave her hand in his, as he had suggested. Willow ignored the look of amusement that passed between sire and childe and turned her gaze back to Buffy.

"Meaning that you never meant for me to find out."

"Come on, Will. You know how much I love you. You know we were only trying to help you. You can't believe I hurt you intentionally," Buffy replied.

"No, I suppose you didn't" Willow allowed. "But it hurt, all the same. And considering the way you went about it, I'd say you were trying to 'help' yourselves, not me."

"That isn't true--"

"Isn't it? Then why did you choose deception? Why the plot to get Spike to distract me? You were tired of hearing me whine about Oz. I can understand that. I know I must have driven you all crazy, the way I went on and on about it. It would have been much kinder, in the long run, to have just told me to shut up. It wouldn't have hurt half as much as the little game you dreamed up."

"You're right," Buffy said softly.

"I would have--what did you say?"

"You're right," the slayer repeated sadly. "I hurt you as badly as Oz did, didn't I? And pretty much in the same way. If you hadn't overheard us, that night in the Bronze, you wouldn't ever have felt betrayed by us. But that still wouldn't have made it right."

Willow stood in silence, the argument having been knocked out of her.

"In fact," Buffy continued, "the only person who didn't hurt you was Spike. Which is proof positive that I really screwed up. Forgive me, Willow?"

"She doesn't mean that, pet," Spike said.

Buffy glared at him, "Yes, I do!"

"You can't," he shook his head and grinned slyly at her. "If Willow forgives you, she's certainly going to have to forgive me, and you don't want that, do you?"

"Hell, no!"

"See?" Spike looked down at Willow. "She doesn't want you to forgive."

"I do...I mean, I don't...I mean...you moron!" the slayer spat at Spike. "Willow! I--"

The redhead raised her free hand in a gesture of silence and looked from Spike to Angel to Buffy. She tugged her other hand free and stepped away from the blonde vampire.

"I need some air," she mumbled and headed quickly for the door.

Spike shot a frantic look at his sire, "Angel--"

"Go," he told him and reached out to grab Buffy's arm as she turned to follow after his childe. "You, stay."

"But--"

"Stay!" he demanded and shoved her onto the sofa.
 
 

"I said I was going to get some air, not run off," Willow spoke as Spike bolted out of the house and looked frantically around for her.

Calming himself, the vampire walked around the long-dead tree in the weedy yard. Willow's back was leaned against the wrinkled bark of the tree, it's bare branches creating tendril-like shadows in the bright moonlight.

"There's no point in it, anyway, is there?" she asked softly.

"In what?" he responded, his eyes searching hers.

"Running off," she answered. "This feeling would just pick up and go along for the ride."

Spike rested his hand against the trunk of the tree, very near her head, and moved closer to her, so close their bodies were separated by only the smallest of spaces, "What feeling is that, pet?"

"The feeling that I have to make a decision, and I don't know how," she looked up into the steely eyes that were watching her intently. "This wall you've been trying so hard to tear down--I think I've run smack into it, and I don't know how to get around it."

"Willow, that wall is of your own making. Just step clear of it," he told her.

"Sounds easy," she smiled softly. "It isn't. I'm scared, Spike."

"I know," he nodded.

"I really think what I need is for you to give me some time alone to think things through without you hovering over me or getting in my face. Will you do that?"

"No," the response was immediate.

"No?" she repeated incredulously. "NO??"

He chuckled at the familiar fire that swept through her, "I know what you're doing. You want time to go hunt up a few more bricks and lay on some fresh mortar. Forget it, sweetheart."

"Spike! I--"

"No," he said firmly and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her body fully against his.

His mouth devoured hers, and he parted her lips with his tongue and explored her mouth with gentle slowness. When he pulled away, she was slightly breathless, and her face was flushed with a delicate glow.

"Tell me you love me," he whispered coaxingly.

She gnawed nervously on her lip, and her eyes glistened with tears as she stared up at him.

"Don't you see, pet? If it's oblivion you're seeking, you won't find it behind that damned wall. It's here, between us. We're all that matters, Willow. Not the pain, not the fear, not the feelings of betrayal. Just us. I can be the oblivion you're craving. Just tell me you love me."

Willow clutched at his arms and squeezed her eyes shut, and in that brief moment before she opened them again, Spike fancied he could see her literally shoving aside the fear that had taunted the little redhead for months.

Her eyes returned to his, holding them steadily, as she spoke softly, "I love you, Spike."

Spike groaned and lowered his mouth to catch the single tear that trickled down her cheek before taking her lips in a fiery kiss.

From their darkened perch on the crumbling stone steps across the lawn, Cordelia cupped her chin in her hands and leaned against Doyle's shoulder.

"It's about time," she murmured happily. "Gods, she was running Angel a close second in the self-denial department."

Doyle shook his head, "Well, she's out of the running, now. Angel never ends up with his lips pasted to someone else's, does he?"

"Not as far as I know. Unless there's something you'd like to tell me," she answered with a devilish grin.

"What's that supposed to--HEY!" he protested loudly.

She laughed and gave his knee a tight squeeze before leaping onto her feet and making a quick dash for the mansion.
 
 
 

"She can't want to be with him!" Buffy insisted.

"You keep saying that," Angel replied. "What makes you an authority on what Willow wants?"

"Maybe she has the owner's manual," Doyle suggested as he and Cordelia entered and helped themselves to a seat in front of the fireplace.

"Do you mind? This is a private conversation," Buffy snapped.

"Not at all," Cordy waved her hand graciously. "Carry on."

Buffy glowered over at her for a moment before turning back to Angel, "She ran away from Sunnydale because of Spike."

He shook his head, "She ran away because you chose to interfere in her life, in a very cruel way, if I may add."

"We weren't interfering! We were trying to--"

"Help. Yeah, you keep saying that, too. Willow had lost her first love. Did it ever occur to you that she needed time to grieve? That kind of loss is every bit as painful as the death of a loved one. I would have though that you, of all people, would have realized that," he said. "But instead of supporting her, of giving her *all* the time she needed to cry her way through it, you tried to bury it for her. All you succeeded in doing was burying your best friend."

"That isn't fair," Buffy answered softly, though her words carried no conviction.

"It's too fair. That's why it's so damned hard for you to face it," he persisted. "She wouldn't be here now if Spike hadn't gone looking for her."

She sighed and raised her hands in surrender, "Okay. What is it you want from me, then?"

"I want you to leave my childe and his love alone," the vampire stated firmly. "With Spike's help, she's beginning to find her way clear of this mess you created, and you're sure as hell not going to throw her back into it."

"And if she really doesn't want him? Am I supposed to stay out of it then?"

"Why don't you ask Willow what she wants?" he suggested.

"Last time I looked," Doyle spoke with a slight grin, "what she wanted was Spike's tongue. And she was going after it with a vengeance."

From just inside the front door, Willow and Spike had been listening to the loud exchange, and the blonde vampire chuckled softly at Doyle's comment and squeezed her waist. Buffy turned as the couple entered the living room.

"You're never going to accept it, are you?" Willow asked her softly. "If I look you in the eye and tell you I love him, even that won't be enough."

"I want you to be happy, Will," the slayer said.

"And you're going to see to it that I am, even if it hurts me. Doesn't make sense, somehow." She took Spike's hand as she moved across the room. "Buffy, you don't have any idea what I want. Hell, half of the time, *I* don't know what I want. After everything I've been through, I'm not even sure who I am, anymore. But I love him. He didn't hurt me, not the way that you did. He got dragged into this right along with me."

"I never meant to hurt you," Buffy told her.

"Neither did Spike," she nodded. "The difference is, he yanked me out of it."

"I didn't have the chance to try!" the slayer argued. "He's kept you locked away here for days! I wanted to--"

"You couldn't have. I wouldn't have listened to you. Look, maybe taking off wasn't the best thing to do. Maybe I should have stuck around and confronted you with what you did. But I couldn't. All I knew was that it hurt, and I couldn't deal with it, and I wanted out. It took a battering ram and a painfully large dose of the truth to get through all the defenses I'd built up around myself. You couldn't have done that for me. The lies started with you."

Buffy's eyes filled with tears, "Do you hate me?"

"No, I don't think so," Willow sighed. "I don't know how I feel, yet."

"I need you to understand why I did what I did."

Spike watched Willow closely and slipped his arm around her as he saw the familiar veil she had woven so well slip around her.

"This isn't about what *you* need," the redhead said coldly. "Do you know, for the first few weeks after I left, that was one of the hardest things for me? Worrying about how you'd feel--if you were hurting. But I taught myself that it wasn't important. This is my life, Buffy. This is about what I need."

"Will, I know that. I just want--"

"I don't give a damn!" she hissed.

Angel took in the icy glare in the redhead's green eyes and reached for the slayer's arm, "You should go."

"No! I need to--"

"Now," he insisted.

"Don't bother. I'll go," Willow spoke and turned on her heel to storm up the stairs.

Spike looked over at his sire, his eyes filled with concern, "It's starting all over again."

"No," Angel shook his head. "I won't let that happen. Buffy, if you won't stay out of this--"

"As in out of Will's life? No, I won't! She's my friend, and I--"

"Get packed," the vampire spoke to his childe.

"Packed? What for?" Buffy's voice rose in alarm.

"We're taking her away from here. Doyle, get the car loaded up. We're heading back to L.A. tonight."

"You can't! Angel, she belongs here with us!"

"She belongs with Spike, if that's what she wants," he contended.

The blonde vampire flashed him a wide smile and bolted up the stairs.

Buffy grabbed Angel's arm tightly, "He can't leave here, either! Not with that--"

"He's done pretty damn well, despite the implant. In an odd sort of way, it's given him back to me. Anything else he needs to learn to survive, I'll teach him. He's my childe. If I want him with me, that's where he'll be. Don't fight me on this, Buffy. You know my feelings for you, but if you try to stand in Spike's way, I'll remove you. I mean it."
***
Spike entered the bedroom to find Willow sitting on the bed, her back pressed up against the headboard, a pillow clutched tightly in her hands. He went to her and sat down and took her face in his hands.

"Baby, it's all right--"

"No," she shook her head. "It'll never be all right. I can't do this, again. I should never have listened to you."

"Yes, you should have," he spoke softly. "Who gives a bloody damn about the slayer?"

"She won't stop, Spike. You know she won't. Buffy may mean well, but she'll keep after me until I--"

"We're leaving."

Her eyes met his, and he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

"We're going to L.A. with Angel. Tonight."

"Going away? From here?" she asked as though she didn't quite dare to believe him.

He smiled and pulled her close to him, "For as long as you want. You'd like to stay with me, wouldn't you, luv?"

"With Angel? And Cordy and Doyle?" she asked. "In L.A.?"

"Far enough away for you?" he smiled against her hair.

"Maybe," she nodded and breathed a quiet sigh against his chest. "Yes."

He drew away and kissed her once more before pulling her off of the bed, "Get your things, pet. The sooner you're ready, the sooner we'll be gone."

She stepped into him and wrapped her arms around him, "Thank you, Spike."
***
Willow dropped the single suitcase beside the trunk of Angel's car and stared out into the darkness where she could just make out the slayer's retreating form.

"Buffy left? I thought she'd stick around to try and wrestle me away from the car," the redhead said to Angel.

"I think she would have liked to," Doyle spoke. "She seemed to have a wee change of heart when Cordelia nearly backed over her."

Cordy climbed out of the driver's seat, all wide-eyed innocence, "I told you it was an accident!"

Spike chuckled, "She isn't driving, is she?"

"I have no desire to die a second death," Angel smirked as he lifted Willow's suitcase into the trunk. "You sure this is all you want to take? We can stop by your--"

"No. I don't want anything else," Willow answered, her voice edged with frost. "I don't know that person, anymore."

"She's still there, Willow. Inside you," he told her.

"She can go to hell," the redhead replied before climbing into the back seat.

Spike looked at his sire, his blue eyes darkened with sadness.

"She has a long way to go, yet," Angel said softly as he reached out a hand to smooth his childe's worried face. "But she'll get there."

"You're sure you want us--want me--with you?" the blonde vampire asked.

"I'm sure," he nodded with a small smile.

Spike slid in beside Willow, pulling her against him and placing a firm kiss on her lips before reaching out to close the door. Cordelia scrambled into the front seat and scooted close to Doyle as Angel took the wheel and pulled away from the mansion.

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