Bonded

Author: Sinecure

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~      

~Part: 11~

Spike waited until Buffy and her lackey left before grabbing the box from the floor and heading into the kitchen.  Instead of unpacking it and placing the individual packets of blood in the refrigerator, he tore open the box and shoved the whole thing inside.  The bottles of Jack Daniels in his pockets went into the cupboard beside the fridge.

"On second thought," he mumbled, sticking one of the bottles back into his pocket.  Blood, cigarettes, and alcohol.  He was all set.  Time to check on Willow.  Before he could make good his escape, Giles stopped him with a hand on his arm.  Spike snarled at him, tired of being manhandled by Willow's friends.

Giles crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at him, looking wholly unimpressed.  "She needs to rest."

Spike nodded.  "Your point being?"  She could rest as much as she wanted to, he'd even encourage it, but he also intended to make sure she was all right.  He saw Dawn watching them from the doorway to the kitchen, a frown wrinkling her brow.  When she noticed his eyes on her, she glared, turning away angrily.  That girl needed to learn to let go of her anger every once in a while, he thought, she held grudges way too long.

Giles shifted back into his vision, blocking out Dawn's back.  "What Xander told you wasn't idle chatter.  We have found a way to reverse the spell.  However, if the Litchock that cast the spell is dead, or we can't find it, then we can't do anything about it."  His eyes narrowed the slightest bit, giving him a dangerous edge.  "But know this, Spike; you're not wanted here.  None of these kids likes you.  None of them want you hanging around, making their lives miserable."  He leaned forward, speaking slowly, succinctly.  "Not even Willow.  She, more than any of us, wants this bond broken."

Spike nodded again, as if he was considering Giles' words, but then he shrugged and pushed past the other man with a laugh.  "Bugger off."  His tone was light, jovial, uncaring.  His mood was dark and raging.

There, apparently, was his answer to the question that'd been roiling around his brain upon hearing Xander's words.  Willow wanted the bond gone.  Wanted to be free of him.  Stopping just outside her bedroom door, he wondered why it bothered him so much.  The obvious reasons were there and definitely a factor.

If the bond was broken, he wouldn't be able to feed anymore.  Wouldn't be able to hurt a human without hurting himself.  Willow got the pain from his implant, but she also got less of the pain than he did.  She was able to withstand it better than him.  But none of that mattered, he realized now that he hadn't intended to truly feed from anyone except Willow.  Why go out and hunt down someone who wouldn't taste half as good as she did?  Aside from that, when he drank from Willow, it was mostly painless due to the way he was taking her blood.

Sex made a lot of things easier to tolerate.  Feeding during sex, for a vampire, and his partner, actually heightened the pleasure they both received.  Willow knew that now.  And she was attracted to him.  He knew that.  So what was to stop him from using that to his advantage?  Not a damn thing until this threat of the bond ending surfaced.

He couldn't let that happen.  He wanted to stay bound to Willow.  She wasn't too bad a partner... for a human.  She was pretty, not at all the sort one would be ashamed to be seen with, smart, funny, quirky.  And bloody hell, the sex had been great.  As a vampire, being with a human was a completely different experience than being with another vampire.  There was the blood, the warmth, the feel of skin and hair that was alive.  They smelled different too.  Especially Willow.  He really liked her scent.

She wasn't too bad a person to be stuck with for a few centuries.

Pushing her bedroom door open, he went inside, closing it behind him.  She was curled up on the bed, which was bare of anything except her, a single pillow under her head, and a sheet, which she was hugging to her rather than using to cover up.  He loosened her hands from around the white material, and spread it over her, along with a blanket from the floor.  The other pillow went beside her head.  He'd leave her to sleep alone again tonight, but as soon as her friends were gone from the house, he would be in this bed again.  With her.

As he left her room behind, heading to his own, he decided to keep silent about the Litchock family feud.  He'd hunt them himself.  No one need know they were even in town.  Less chance of them finding the one they needed to reverse the spell.

He was in the midst of taking off his duster when he realized that it was still early for him.  Only a few hours into darkness.  Why waste time sitting alone in a room, bored and drinking when he could start his search for the Litchocks tonight?  That decided, he shrugged back into his duster and went back downstairs, leaving the house.

An hour later, he was still searching, having found nothing more threatening than a snarling dog that whimpered and ran away with its tail tucked between its legs when Spike snarled back at it.  Two hours later, he was thoroughly bored.  Not even the vampires seemed to want to show up and relieve his stress and boredom.  Ungrateful wretches.  Were they really afraid of a family of Litchocks?  Or was there another reason they were scarce tonight?

All that was around at the moment was a human somewhere behind him.  A human he couldn't do anything to at the moment, so he ignored the person, and continued through the cemetery.  A few minutes later, he felt the human moving closer, and rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the people around this town.

"What are you doing out here?" Buffy asked from behind him.

Oh, it was that human.  He turned to look at her, surprised he hadn't realized it was her.  Lately he'd been hyper aware of Buffy, what with loving her and all, but he hadn't even known she was there.  Hadn't smelled her perfume-- ah, there it was now, as she walked closer, then past him.

He fell into step beside her.  "Where's--"

"Before you come up with yet another ingenious name to call Xander," she said, looking sideways at him, "he's with Anya, at the shop.  And, I told him to stay away from the house until he can stop threatening people."

He tossed her a surprised look.  "Well, good."  Out of habit he said, "Worried about me?"  But there was no actual smirking or taunting in his voice, which was a little annoying.  He just wasn't in the mood.

"Worried about Willow," she countered as they left the cemetery behind and crossed the street.

Spike had already been there, done that, so he decided to leave her to it and get back home to Willow.  "They're mostly empty," he called to her.  "The five I was in anyway."

"Which ones?" she asked, turning to walk backwards.

He shrugged.  "EverRest, Shady Pines, Under the Glen, RestField and the one we just left."

She grinned, turning back around.  "That's 'cause I've already been through them."

Spike stared after her for a minute.  Had they just had a civil conversation, without an argument?  Would wonders never cease?  He shook his head, turning away to start the walk back to Willow's house.

But then he heard her voice again and stopped.

"Angel?"

Groaning at the thought of seeing soulboy, Spike turned to find Buffy standing right in front of him, and no Angel in sight.

"What are you doing here?"

She was gazing up at him, and there were a million different emotions swimming around in her eyes.  Emotions he wanted to be on the receiving end of.  Now he was, but it felt... wrong.  "Buffy, I'm not--"

"I-- I thought we agreed to stay away from each other?"

Spike stared down at her wondering if she'd suddenly gone insane.  "Angel's not here," he told her slowly.  "Um, what-- ah hell."  She was hallucinating.  She thought he was Angel, the bloody love of her bloody life.  And she was looking up at him like she wanted to jump into his arms, but was holding back.  Afraid of ruining the tenuous relationship she and Angel had?

He grabbed her by the arm, not willing to just leave her there, lost in the land of illusions.  "Come on," he mumbled, hoping no demons were around to witness him helping the Slayer home.  He shook his head in despair.

She stopped walking, dragging him to a halt.  "Angel, stop.  What's going on?"  She paused for a second, shaking her head.  "No, we are going to talk about this."

"Eh?" Spike replied.  She was hearing things too?  He hadn't heard anything when he'd had his Dru encounter.  The woman had looked like her, and reached out to touch his face in a manner that was all Dru, but she hadn't said anything.  Maybe, if Willow's theory was correct, and they were seeing people they loved, maybe they were hearing what they wanted to hear.  Had Willow-- hang on.  Just what had Willow heard from Tara?  Sighing at himself for once again letting his thoughts wander--and to Willow no less--he stepped closer to Buffy, speaking quietly, not wanting to spook her.  "I'm not Angel."

Tears formed in her eyes and she shook her head, backing away.  "We can't keep doing this.  I-- I can't keep doing this."

Spike frowned down at her angrily.  Everything she was saying was forcing him to realize that she still wanted Angel.  Still loved the bastard, and no matter what happened, or who she was with, she would always love him.  Always want him.  Always lust after him.  "I'm not Angel," he repeated louder, clenching his fists at his side.

"I know," she whispered, but before he could figure out if she was talking to him or Angel, she stood on tiptoe, placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him.

He froze.  This was something he'd dreamed about for more than a year.  Dreamed and fantasized about.  Wanted.

Still wanted.

The kiss was soft, tender, a lover's kiss.  Her lips parted the smallest bit and he found himself unable to not kiss her back.  Willow and the bond and everything else was forgotten in that moment.  He had dreamed of this moment too many times to count, so very many times.  She pressed herself against him, catching him off guard, and he stumbled back against the brick wall of the building they were in front of.  She moved with him, kissing him with more passion, and less tenderness.

She wanted him.  His brain knew that was wrong, but his body didn't care.  It wanted her.

His hands grabbed her by her upper arms, holding her closer-- why then was she getting further away?  He broke the kiss, looking down into her glazed eyes.  She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling as she fought to regain her composure, but it seemed to be a losing battle.  Which meant she was still under the impression that he was Angel.

Which meant he'd pushed *her* away, not the other way around.  What the hell was the matter with him?  As he pondered that thought, her eyes cleared and she looked around her in confusion.

"Spike?  But I thought--" her eyes widened as she realized who it was she'd just kissed.  And been pressed up against.  In whose arms she'd been in.  "Oh, God," she whispered, backing away.  "I'm sorry... I-- I didn't meant to--"

"Yeah," he said defensively, "I know.  You didn't mean to touch me and soil your perfect little hands.  Got it."  He started to walk away, then turned back, angrily.  "Just remember; you kissed me, I didn't--"

"Stop it from happening," she interrupted, frowning at him.  He knew damn well most of her anger was aimed at herself.  Seeing her head shake, he tacked on denial.

Like that'd make it go away, he thought sarcastically, resuming his trip home.  "Actually, I kind of did," he tossed over his shoulder.  "Didn't see you stopping it anytime soon."  He chuckled lowly, hoping like hell he'd pissed her off just a little.  When he turned to look, she was gone.

Shrugging, he went home.

~~~*~~~

Spike was barely in the house when he heard Giles call to him.  Since he was going through the living room anyway, being it was that, or the closet by the door, he strode into the room, not intending to stop.  "What?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Giles said, looking up at him from the chair across the room.  He had a notepad on his lap and a cup and saucer on the arm of the large, overstuffed chair he was sitting in.

Spike kept on going.  "No," was his only reply.

Giles chuckled in self derision.  "I deserved that, I suppose."

"Bloody right, you do," Spike shot back, stopping against his will.  "You and the rest of them.  Every last one of you... except Willow.  She's the only decent one in the pathetic group of losers you all have compiled."  His anger was rising back to the surface, and he was pretty sure most of it was directed at Buffy at the moment.  He'd had her in his arms, kissing her, holding her close, but he'd pushed her away.  Why, damn it?  An image of Willow's lips curling up into that quirky smile she got when she was amused, but trying not to laugh, came to mind and he suddenly had an idea.

But he still planned to blame it all on Buffy.

"That may be," Giles was saying, looking at him over the rim of his glasses, "but this is for your well being as well as Willow's."  He motioned for Spike to sit down, and waited.

Spike sighed heavily, not wanting to do it.  After a quick glance up the stairs, he dropped onto the couch cushions, planting his feet firmly on the ground, and glared at the watcher.  "What?"

"I think we should test the limits of the bond."  He held his hand up when Spike immediately started to protest.  "Hear me out.  There's no way for you to both know where the other is at all times unless you spend every moment with each other.  She has school, friends, daytime activities, and due to your sun aversion, you can't be with her during them."  He paused, waiting for Spike to agree.

Spike shrugged, not wanting to admit Giles was right.  Willow did have all of those things.  She sure as hell wouldn't be giving them up just to accommodate him, same as he wouldn't be giving up some of his activities for her.  They led different lives, and in both of them, there were unknowns.  "Right.  So, how do we test it?  Jog five miles in the opposite direction?"

Giles chuckled, shaking his head.  "We drive you to two locations, I'll be with you, Buffy and Xander with Willow.  We'll keep in contact, with walkie talkies, or something similar.  It's all very controlled, and if anything should happen, we'll be there to remedy it."

"What if we both keel over as soon as we pass that five mile marker?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow at Giles.  "I'll be dust, and Willow will be brought back, is that how it works?  She gets rid of me, and--"

"No," Giles denied, sitting up.  "The thought never crossed my mind, I'm ashamed to say."  He carefully picked up the cup and saucer, placing them and the pad on the table.  "If I were better at being evil, I'm sure it would have."

Spike smirked, taking it as a compliment.  "Would've gotten it eventually," he tossed back, then switched back to the topic at hand.  "So what happens if we die?  I'm not willing to take that chance--"

"Of course you're not," Giles said derisively, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"--with Willow's life," Spike finished, giving Giles a hard look.  "So far, you're not inspiring confidence in me.  Why should I trust you?"

"For the same reason I trust you.  Willow.  I'd never see her hurt.  If I didn't think death was highly improbable, I wouldn't even be considering doing this.  But what if you're chasing a demon in the cemetery and Willow's on her way to the shop and neither one of you knows how far apart you are?  Wouldn't you rather know what's going to happen and be able to deal with it?"

Giles made a good case, and had already convinced Spike.  If Willow agreed.  If she didn't feel comfortable with any of it, they weren't doing it.  "All right," he agreed, standing up.  "But only if Willow's a hundred percent on this.  Otherwise, go find someone else to dissect."

"I'd be surprised if Willow hasn't thought of this herself," Giles told him confidently, sitting back with his cup of tea.

Spike couldn't help but agree with him.  Willow's was an analytical mind, she'd be wholly into figuring out every aspect of the bond.  He left the living room for the empty kitchen, grabbing a bag of blood from the box in the fridge.  As it heated up in the microwave, he leaned against the doorjamb.  "Where's Dawn?"

Giles' teacup clattered against the saucer as he set it down a little harder than he'd intended.  "I had Xander take her home.  She was getting on my last nerve with all her sulking and pouting."

Spike knew exactly what Giles meant.  He'd never known a more complaining person in his century-long life aside from Dru.  Still, he was fond of the little brat.  The microwave beeped, and he grabbed the blood, heading up to his room.

~~~*~~~

Showers were wonderful inventions, and since being a vampire was dirty work, Spike couldn't go more than a day without bathing, else he'd be coated in blood, gore, and dirt.  At least, the way he used to kill, he would've.  He liked to physically attack his victims, fight them, hunt them and drag them down kicking and screaming.  He'd fought often and fought well.  Bloodying himself most of the time.  Then he'd go to a bathhouse and enjoy the tubs filled with hot water.  Sometimes Dru came with him, and they'd have fun cleaning each other off.

Other times, he went by himself and simply sat immersed in the hot water, dreading the moment the water cooled to the point of being uncomfortable enough to vacate.

Rolling his eyes at the direction his thoughts were taking, Spike stood under the hot spray of water, letting it pour over him in warm rivulets.  Running water was a luxury he didn't have anymore.  Not since moving to his crypt.  Since then, he'd made do with Giles' apartment, or gone to a motel.  Now, he was once again in the vicinity of running water and showers, and he was taking advantage of that.  It was a wonderful invention.    

After too long a shower, Spike yanked a clean pair of blue jeans from the bag he'd brought here the other day, and a black button up shirt.  His other clothes needed washed, which, he figured could be done today.  Domestic, he was not, but a clean person, absolutely.  A clean pair of socks, and his old boots went on next.  He grabbed the pile of dirty clothes and headed downstairs.

There was a washer just off the kitchen, he was sure of it.  As he cautiously passed the living room, checking to make sure the curtains were closed, he heard the TV turned on low.  Willow was sitting on the couch, half laying, half sitting.  Not stopping to chat, he continued into the kitchen.  The washer and drier were in a small room just off the kitchen, as he'd thought they were.  He hadn't gotten a whole lot out of his imprisonment by the Scoobies, but he had learned one thing; how to do his laundry.

And from Xander, of all people.

After the whole, 'shrinking of his clothes' episode, Xander had taught him, very grudgingly, how to use a washer and drier.  It had galled Spike to no end to have to be taught anything by Xander, but it'd come in handy since then.  Before that, when his clothes got too dirty, he'd toss them and buy new ones.  Well, steal new ones.  Since being chipped, he didn't have a lot of cash, or opportunities to lift clothes without following through on his threats.

That left laundry.  And Xander's smug attitude in showing him how to use it.

Each washer had to be different from the one before it, and they all seemed to have their own set of doodads and knobs, but, Spike was becoming an expert on laundry.  When he learned something, he learned it well.  So it didn't take him long to figure out all the knobs and controls on Willow's machine.  In no time, he had his clothes in and was sipping on a mug of hot blood.  Instead of taking it with him into the living room, he downed it and rinsed the mug, setting it in the sink, then left to join Willow.

She was still on the couch, in the same position.  He could only see the back of her head, but from her unwavering attention on the screen, she was either extremely interested in the show she was watching, or she was asleep.

Listening to her breathing, he deduced that she was just very into the show she was watching.  Something about space, it looked like.  He walked quietly behind the couch, not wanting to disturb her yet, but before he was halfway across the room, she turned with a smile.

"Vampires doing laundry," she mused, shaking her head.  "And here I was wondering about silly things like how they shave with no mirrors."

Spike shrugged, dropping down beside her.  "It's a delicate process," he said, deadpan, "painful sometimes.  But we persevere."

"Shaving?" she chuckled.  "Or laundry?"

"Both," he said with a nod, turning his attention to the TV.  Lots of empty black space and stars were being shown as a narrator droned on and on about them.  Kinda reminded him of Dru.  "What you watching?"

"A show," she told him, grinning when he waited for more.  "About black holes."  She downed the volume a little and handed him the remote, lifting a book from beside her.  "You can change it if you want.  I'm barely paying attention.  Seen it before."

He settled back more firmly against the cushions, and incidentally, her arm.  Focusing on the show wasn't too hard, it was actually a little interesting.  In a completely non-demonic way.  He had interests outside death and blood.  Speaking of which... "Where is everyone?"  There was a distinct lack of heartbeats in the house.

She shifted slightly as she turned a page in the book she was reading.  "Giles and Anya are at the shop, Xander's at work, Dawn's at school, and Buffy is-- oh, I forgot."  She flipped the book over on her lap, marking her page as she turned toward him.  "Buffy had an 'episode' last night."

Spike went even more still than usual.  Did Willow know about the kiss?  Had Buffy told her?  Great, so much for being able to continue with his seduction.  Being reminded of his feelings for Buffy, even if they were starting to be former feelings, wasn't going to win him any points with Willow.  Bloody hell.  "Went insane and killed a bunch of humans, forcing Giles to put her down?" he asked hopefully.  "That kind of episode?"

She started to frown, but simply settled for rolling her eyes.  "She saw Angel, only he's still in L.A.," she explained.  "Guess it was only a matter of time before she had an hallucination.  As much as she's out there I'm surprised it didn't happen before now."

"Seeing things... so I was half right," he chuckled, pretending ignorance.  She wasn't biting his head off for snarking on her best friend, so maybe Buffy hadn't told her the complete truth.

She nudged his arm, tilting her head to the side with a disapproving look.  "Spike, insulting her isn't going to make the feelings go away."

"Feelings," he repeated, about to deny it out of habit, but there was no point to it.  She knew.  He knew.  They all knew.  "So, what happened?"

"She was patrolling, saw Angel, turned out it was a vampire of another color."  She fiddled with the spine on her book, glancing up at him very briefly.

Did she know, or was she nervous because of Buffy being involved?

If he was human, would he be sweating right now?  He certainly felt the urge to.  "Oh.  Well, she's not exactly--" blameless, he was going to say, but Willow interrupted him.

"She even kissed him," Willow giggled.  "Having been there, done that, for the same reason and cause, well, I can laugh.  Just, um, don't tell her I did, 'kay?"

Instead of saying, 'whew!' like he wanted to, he sat back, considering her request.  "I don't know... I think I need an incentive."

She narrowed her eyes at him, biting the inside of her cheek which caused her lips to purse in a pseudo pout.  "Really.  And what did you have in mind?" she asked suspiciously.

He grinned and lifted the book from her lap, tossing it to the coffee table.  "Oh, I think I can come up with a few ideas," he said softly, making sure to let a little huskiness seep into his voice.  It affected her every time, and now was no exception.  Her eyes dropped to his lips and her breathing sped up along with her heartbeat which was beating out a rapid tattoo.

She rolled her eyes again, reaching for her book.  "I told you before, Spike, I'm not your personal sex partner, or a snack bar.  Go chew on someone else."

Spike once again took the book from her, and when she reached for it again with a sigh of exasperation, he slid his hands around her waist and lifted her up.  Once she was settled snugly in his lap, straddling him, he smirked at her.  "Not hungry," he told her.

She didn't look amused, or turned on in the slightest.  Kinda looked a little ticked off actually.  Instead of protesting with her mouth, she pressed her hand against his stomach wound.  He didn't even flinch when she touched him.  She frowned and pressed harder.  "What--"

He lifted his shirt with one hand and grabbed her hand with the other, settling it against his skin.  "Look, Ma, no pain."

Her eyes darted down to where their hands were still joined.  She pulled her fingers from his with a frown.  There was a scar where the hole used to be and a little bruising, but not much more.  "Hey, when did that heal?  A-- and why isn't mine healed like that?"  She lifted the hem of her shirt to show him the bruising still visible on her perfectly flat, perfectly pale abdomen.

He slid his hands back to her waist and held her still when she tried to climb off.  "No vampire healing," he explained.  "Still hurt?"

"No, not for a few days, but-- oh, stop that."

Ignoring her, he continued nipping on her lower lip with his teeth, and went a step further by threading his hands through her hair, bringing her closer to him.  She gasped when he slid his tongue along her lip before sucking it into his mouth.

"Stop," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

Spike had no idea why she was so opposed to this.  It's what they both wanted, and she'd never been very convincing when she denied it.  She had trouble giving into what she wanted, he got that.  Unless it was what everyone expected of her.  He rested his forehead against hers, gazing at her.  It took her a minute to realize he'd gone still, she was so wrapped up in kissing him.  When she finally forced her eyes open, he smiled crookedly at her.  "Stop?" he repeated, shaking his head.  "Tell that to your lips."  He pressed his lips against hers in a quick kiss.  "And your hands," he shrugged his shoulders lightly, bringing her attention to her hands, which were wrapped tightly around his back.

She closed her eyes in guilt, swallowing thickly.  "I'm sorry--" she began, but he cut her off, his voice holding a warning.

"Don't."  He closed his own eyes, shifting under her a little, trying to ease the ache she'd caused.  "You want me," he told her, daring her to deny it.

She didn't.  For once, she just gave in with a sigh, nodding in agreement.  "I do."  Her brows dipped down in a frown, and her eyes opened, staring into his, searching for something.

Whether she found what she was looking for or not, he had no idea.  "So what's the problem?" he whispered, lifting her shirt, exposing her abdomen.  He laughed deeply when she leaned forward, pressing herself more firmly against his erection.  "It's certainly not due to any doubts about me wanting you.  Pretty obvious, isn't it?"

There was a ghost of a smile on her lips, but it died almost as soon as it was born.  "It's wrong."

Wrong.  "Why do so damn many people use that word when talking to me?" he asked bitterly.  "It's always, 'Vampires are wrong.  Spike is wrong.  Loving you is wrong.'  When are things ever right with me?"

She shook her head in denial, halting his hands with her own when he started to lift her off of him.  "No.  I didn't mean it that way.  I only meant it's wrong because you still love Buffy, and I still love Tara."

He didn't deny it.  Buffy was still someone he loved, just not with the same intensity as before.  Willow was helping to replace Buffy in his heart, and hopefully he was doing the same with Tara for Willow.  That was his whole goal, after all.  To make the girl fall in love with him.  Maybe though, instead of using that knowledge against Buffy, or to win her, as he'd planned on doing, he would simply enjoy it and see where it led.

Yeah, he could stick with Willow for a while, seeing as how he was attached to her anyway.

"Spike?"

But apparently, it would have to wait for another time.  He sat back with a sigh, releasing her.  "You're free to go."

She laughed lightly, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his.  "What if I don't want to be free?" she asked, running her hands through his hair, completely messing it up.  She tugged lightly on a lock of the bleach blonde strands, watching him steadily.  "What if I want to be as un-free as a person can be?"

He nodded, pretending to consider her words.  As if he wasn't silently crowing in triumph, or trying not to jump for joy.  "I think I've changed my mind," he told her, nodding in agreement with his own words.  "Got a headache now."  His hands under her shirt completely belied his words.

"Yeah?" she whispered, her lips tracing a path from his forehead to his lips.

He liked this.  It was different being the center of attention.  Her attention.  It was always the other way around with Dru.  He rained his attention on Dru, he touched her, kissed her, made love to her.  She never returned the favor.  Harmony, on the other hand, had been cloying and possessive when he didn't want her to be.  Didn't want her, except for sex.  And even then, with her constant yapping, he probably would've been better off going solo.  So, at the moment, he was content to let Willow have her way with him.  "Yeah," he sighed, closing his eyes as her lips touched against his once, twice.

"Guess you want me to stop then."  She slid her hands under his shirt, pulling it up slowly.  After unbuttoning it, and wrestling it off of his arms, she sat back, looking at him.  "You probably don't want my hands on you either... or my mouth, or..." she took off her shirt, tossing it to the floor beside his.  "My skin against yours."  She leaned forward, pulling him up and against her at the same time.  "You're not liking this, I hope, otherwise I'd think you were lying."

Liking it?  God no, he was only unable to think about anything else except Willow and where she would touch next.  His whole world, at that moment, consisted of Willow and nothing else.  "Mmm, nope," he chuckled shortly, gasping when her mouth settled on his neck.  "Not liking it at all."  He slid one hand around to the back of her head, holding her still, while his other hand moved down her back, pressing her mostly naked chest against his.  "You really... really need to stop doing that now," he managed to get out, his voice strangled.

She smiled against his neck, slipping one hand between them and scraping her nails against his chest.  "You know, I've heard that men don't like being touched..." her hand settled over one of his nipples, "here.  Is that true?"  She scraped one fingernail over his nipple, causing him to suck in his breath through his teeth and arch into her.

His eyes snapped open, and he had to force himself not to morph into his demon face.  "Where'd you hear that?" he asked, watching her through slitted eyes.

Instead of answering, she asked a question of her own.  "Did I hurt you?  I'm sorry."  She tried to sit back, but he held her right where she was.  "O-- on the internet.  I read it on the internet.  I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't," he assured her.  "At least no more than I wanted to be hurt."  That fine line of pleasure/pain that existed in all things, most especially in sex, was a constant source of fun for vampires.  Pushing that line as far as it would go was a form of entertainment.  For Spike, that was only something he liked when pleasure was involved as well.  Mostly.  He'd told Willow pain wasn't something he liked with his pleasure, but to some extent, he'd been lying.  This kind of pain he liked.  Very much.  "What else did you read on the internet?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her, a certain amount of anticipation on his face.

She snorted with laughter, sitting back a little on his thighs.  "This isn't me," she told him, shaking her head.  "I'm not the Mistress of Pain, o-- or a dominatrix.  I don't *do* stuff like this.  I'm not Buffy."  Realizing what she'd just said, she quickly amended her words.  "Not that Buffy's a dominatrix.  Or into pain, or anything like that."  She frowned, biting her lip.  "Not that I know what Buffy's into... I'm just saying, she's probably sort of in charge and demanding, and this is *so* not something I'm thinking about.  Ever.  Point is, I'm not her.  I'm just me, and this," she gestured to them, and climbed off his lap to stand in front of the couch, "this, is not me."

He waited until he was sure she was finished before speaking.  When Willow was off on one of her rants she could plow right over anyone else who was talking without hearing a word they said.  He didn't feel like repeating himself, so he waited until she stopped, then waited another few seconds.  "Good.  I don't want Buffy.  I want you.  Just... be yourself."

She burst out laughing, sitting primly on the edge of the couch beside him.  "You sound like a Hallmark card."

He shrugged nonchalantly.  "Mr. Sincerity.  I live to help others."

She looked over at him with a sigh.  She was in nothing more than a pair of jeans and a frilly white bra.  Her breathing was a little more rapid than normal, and she obviously didn't want to stop anymore than he did, so why was she stopping? he wondered.

He looked over at her.  She gazed back, and they both moved at the same time.  She reached out for him and laid back, pulling him on top of her, while he propped himself up on his elbows over her, cradling her face with his hands.

"Just this once," she gasped, arching into him when he slid one hand down her chest to her stomach to undo her jeans.

"Right," he agreed, raising his hips slightly to give her better access to the buttons on his jeans.  "Just this once."

Impatient, when after a minute, her fingers were getting nowhere on his buttons, he knelt back, straddling her legs to yank his jeans open.  She lifted her hips as much as his position would allow her, and pushed her jeans down.  He took over when she could move them no more due to him being in the way.  Dragging the heavy black material from her legs, he tossed them to the floor and pushed his own off.

She started giggling almost hysterically when he got them as far as his thighs before needing to switch positions to remove them.  He scowled at her, letting her pull her legs out from under him so he could sit and pull the blue jeans off.  "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to laugh at a man when he's naked?"

She shook her head, still laughing.  Worse still, she was starting to snort.  "Like my opinion matters to you enough to put anything more than a tiny dent in your self assurance and arrogance.  Please," she scoffed.

Finally through with his pants and socks, he frowned down at her.  "Your opinion matters," he told her, sliding his hand down her ankle and slipping off one bright red sock and then the other.  Red to match her blouse.  Of course.  He tossed the socks on the growing pile of clothes and glanced up at her.

Her laughter was gone and a frown of her own had appeared.  "Oh," she said softly, apologetically.  "I didn't mean to insult you."

"You didn't."  He grinned, winking at her.  "Well, maybe a small dent."  Stopping her from whatever she was about to say, he lifted her up by her shoulders and kissed her.  His mouth moved over hers hungrily, ravenously, and he had to amend his earlier words.  He was definitely hungry, just not for blood.

Laying her down and moving with her, he pressed her down into the couch.  Before she hit the couch completely, she shoved her arms behind her back, halting their momentum.  "Bra," she explained, fidgeting with it.

He chuckled and lifted her up, reaching around to unhook the white scrap of material.  "Here, let me."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to laugh at a girl when she's naked?" she mocked, shivering as her bra was removed and his eyes were suddenly fastened on her.

"No laughter here," he assured her, looking his fill.  "Definitely no laughter."  During the past week, since the bond began, he'd slept with Willow, had sex with her, touched and kissed her, even seen her in the bathtub, but never before had she been completely naked and bared before him.  For him.

She was starting to grow nervous under his perusal of her, he could tell.  Her lip was caught between her teeth, tugging at it as her eyes settled somewhere on his chest.  The fingers of her left hand, the hand closest to him, traced along the edge of the cushion beside her.

"Oh, look," he teased, trying to put her at ease, "there's a body under all those fuzzy clothes."  He traced his hand along her hip, his eyes following the movement.  Stopping as he neared her chest, he ran his thumb along the underside of her breast.

She twisted her mouth up in disbelief.  "I think you may have felt this body quite a few times, like say... when you tried to kill me in my dorm room?  Or when you hauled me off to that warehouse to do the love spell for you?"

He grinned, glancing up at her briefly before returning his gaze to his hand as it traveled along her rib cage.  The few bruises still there were faint, but visible, and they contrasted beautifully with her pale skin.  "I did."  Both times he'd wanted her, though not solely in a sexual way.  He'd wanted to drain her and shag her.  Kiss her and kill her.  Though, right now she didn't need to know that.  "Wanted you too."

She frowned up at the ceiling.  "If that wasn't the kind of wanting associated with wanting someone dead, I'd be flattered."  Her eyes slid to his.  "Really."

He laughed.  Straddling her and grasping her hands in one swift movement, imprisoning them above her head.  "Then be flattered," he told her just before his mouth settled over hers.  Sliding his tongue inside her mouth, he pressed firmly against her, touching her in all the right spots.

"I'll be flattered later," she mumbled into his mouth.  Pulling back slightly, she grinned at him.  "Right now, I'll settle for this.  'Cause, you know, it's a good thing to settle for."

"It is when I do it," he agreed, chuckling at her eye roll.  If he didn't know better, he'd think she wasn't all that impressed with him.  Of course, he did know better.  Everyone was impressed with him.  It was just the cross he had to bear.  His burden.

Willow's mouth returning to his stopped his conceited thoughts, and led to some serious kissing.  Trying to get into a better position, since he was a bit... pressed, at the moment, he slid lower and was greeted with the sight of Willow's neck.  Blood pumping through her veins, her pulse lightly tapping out a rhythm just under the skin, all in perfect harmony with her heartbeat.  It was, in a sense, perfection.

She shifted to her right, lifting one leg beside him, bending it at the knee.  The couch was a bit small for slow lovemaking, but neither was complaining.  A lifted leg here, a shifting hip there, accommodating each other wordlessly, that's all there was at the moment; all that was needed.  Spike released her hands and filled his own with her breasts, hefting their weight as she ran her fingers through his hair.

She closed her eyes, sucking in a breath when he lightly rubbed his thumbs over her nipples.  Spike watched her avidly.  He was an ardent observer of people, always had been.  He liked to watch them die, watch them whimper and scream in pain, watch them whimper and scream in ecstasy.  The similarities between the two were undeniable, and equally enjoyable, and they fascinated him.

Willow's whimpers and moans were due solely to arousal and he was absolutely happy with that.  He didn't want pain for her, not anymore.

Her arousal was wholly her own, and yet, in a way, it was Spike's as well.  He felt like he owned it just as much as she did, because he was the cause.  He was making her gasp and arch against him with a touch to her abdomen.  He was forcing her to hiss in pleasure when he slid his fingers along her inner thigh.  He was the one causing her to shift restlessly on the couch as he finally leaned down to take one of her breasts into his mouth.

"Spike," she moaned, holding his head to her.  One leg slid along his, then raised to his hip, holding him to her there as well.

He felt an urge to bite into her flesh, to hurt her, take her blood.  Kill her.  It was easy to ignore the urge, but the want remained, and needed to be satisfied in other ways.  He lightly bit down on her breast, then sucked the flesh back into his mouth, soothing the hurt he feared he'd caused.  She watched him through slitted eyes which soon fell shut.

Spike was feeling a bit neglected, and told her as much by leaning down to whisper in her ear.  "Touch me."  Almost immediately he felt her lips on his neck, sucking at the flesh.  A nice, erotic sensation for anyone.  More so for a vampire.  He sighed, settling down against her again.

"Any particular area you'd like me to touch?" she teased, sliding one hand down his back and around his hip.  Slowly, her hand trailed along his stomach, from one hip to the other, and then lower.  Her fingers spread wide as she leaned up and kissed him, wrapping her hand around his shaft.  "How about here?" she asked huskily.

His hips thrust forward as soon as her hand wrapped around him.  "The words, 'God yes' come to mind."  He grinned down at her.  "Does that make me any less of a man?"

She shrugged, her eyes dropping to where her hand was busy stroking him.  "You're asking me?  A lesbian?"

Spike cleared his throat, trying not to laugh at her.  "A lesbian who currently has her hand wrapped around a man's--"

"Penis," she supplied primly, biting her lip to keep from giggling.  Her hand stopped its movement on him and slid up his chest and around his neck, meeting her other hand to lock around his neck.

"Mmm," he agreed absently, a little--make that a lot--disappointed that she'd stopped stroking him.  Forgoing one pleasure for another, he rested his hands on her hips, holding her still for him.  Instead of immediately thrusting inside of her, he waited.  "So, unless this means nothing to you, and you're not enjoying it, then I'd say bi-sexual is more fitting."

"I'm enjoying," she told him, moving against him, trying to get him to continue, but he kept still.  Waiting.  "Bi-sexual works," she agreed, frowning when he stared into her eyes, unmoving.  "Spike, what--?"

He stared down at her for another minute, searching for some sign that she cared about him, but there was nothing there that told him this meant more to her than a quick shag by a prostitute.  He needed more than that.  Wanted more than that.  "Say it," he told her, frowning when she shrugged in confusion.

"Say what?"  She looked uncomfortable, and not in a physical way.  "I don't know what you want."

"You.  To want me."  He hated himself for the near pleading in his voice, and what he knew was showing on his face, but at the moment, it was a burning need inside of him, surpassing even the need for physical pleasure.  "Tell me you want me," he demanded.

Her face softened, and he had to close his eyes against it.  His descent into Pansyville was complete.  Officially, he was lower than even Angel.  Leaning his forehead against hers, he forced away all thoughts of needing to be wanted, and wanting to be needed, and thrust inside of her.  She gasped at the abruptness of it, but he didn't stop to think or ponder it.  Once they both reached that pinnacle of pleasure, he could get away from her and her pity.

"Spike," she moaned, then a little louder.  More insistent.  "Spike."  Her hands on his biceps squeezed him tightly, and he realized she was trying to get his attention, to get him to look at her.

He couldn't do that.  He slowed his pace, reaching behind him to lift her leg around his hip, then lifted the other one.  She let him, then cupped his face in her hands, kissing him.

"Look at me," she whispered, almost desperately.  He kept his eyes closed, and tried to pull out of her grip, but she held tight.  "Please."

Feeling more like an animal than a demon, he stopped moving inside of her, and took a deep breath, opening his eyes.  Dreading what he'd see on her face, all that pity and derision, he barely spared her a glance before settling his eyes somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline.  "You want to stop?" he asked.

"No, I want you to look at me," she said, sounding grumpy.

Holding back the insane urge to chuckle, he finally looked at her, surprised to find, not pity, but understanding.  No derision, just simple compassion.  He kept silent, letting her have her say.

"I *do* want you," she insisted, staring into his eyes, making sure he believed her.  And he did.  "Though God knows why I want you, Spike.  You're rude, and a jerk most of the time, a-- and in love with my best friend."  She looked away, almost sadly, her face softening even more.  "But, you know, there's also this other part to you, the part you hardly ever show.  To me anyway."  She sighed, shrugging helplessly.  "I mean, you steered me around a broken beer bottle the other night, which was really sweet and old fashioned and really weird.  And you told me it wasn't so bad being tied to me for the rest of our lives, and--" she sighed again.  "And I want you.  All the time."

Spike nodded, unable to fight back the smile tugging at his lips.  Love's bitch, he'd once called himself, and looking down at Willow right now as she lay under him, naked and surrounding him with her warmth, he knew that to be the truth.  But he wasn't only love's bitch, he was lust's as well, along with want and need.  His fierce need to belong to someone, with a group, anything that made him feel like a part of the world, would be the death of him, he was sure.

He kissed her lips lightly, just a small thank you, to show he was grateful for her truthfulness and reassurance.

"Wanna show me how grateful you are?" she whispered against his mouth.  Her smile was wide and genuine when she arched up against him.  "How about finishing what you started?"

"Oh, that," he chuckled, sliding out of her with excruciating slowness.

"Yeah, that," she agreed, pressing her hands against his back, trying to make him move inside her again.  "Please," she practically begged.  "I need you.  Want you... so much," she mumbled, looking away briefly before fixing her eyes to his face.  "Too much.  All the time."

Spike reached down between their bodies and slid his finger over her clit, watching her.  Her eyes closed slowly, her head moving back.  Red hair framed her face, the bruises on the left side making her look vulnerable, and small, and completely under his control.  When she bit her lip on a moan, he couldn't stand it any longer, and slid back inside of her, starting up a pace that had her gasping, and him groaning.

She was tight, and warm.  So bloody warm.  Her flesh surrounded him like a warm bath, pushing away the cold of his own flesh.  His pace quickened as he neared orgasm.  She wasn't as far gone as him, so he reached back down between them, and played his finger over her clit again.  Her body clenched around him, tighter and tighter as she thrust up against him, their bodies meeting in welcome pleasure.

Settling his mouth over hers, he reveled in the feel of her hands on his back, scratching and clawing at his flesh.  Her own back had to be stinging from the pain, but it only made her arch further into him, and they both liked that.

She tightened against him even more, and ripped her mouth from his as she came.  "Oh God..." she practically screamed.

Spike sped up his pace and wrapped his arms around her back, holding her closer.  Her legs dropped from his hips, and her hands left his back.  Instead of leaving him completely, her fingers clawed his chest and abdomen, then scraped against his nipples.  He thrust faster and harder, groaning against her neck as he finally came, reaching that pinnacle he'd been striving for just to get away from her.

He no longer wanted to leave her.  In fact, as he laid down on her and her arms wrapped around his back, he closed his eyes contentedly, thinking to himself that, maybe he didn't ever want to leave the soft comfort of her body.

~Part: 12~

Through the heavy haze of deep sleep, Willow heard her name being called.  She automatically fought the pull of reality, not wanting to lose that feeling of rightness that came with pleasant dreams.  When reality hit and the dream faded, the feeling left with the memory of the images, and she didn't want to lose it this time.  She wanted to stay in the dream she was currently having.  Being with Spike in the distant future, together in every sense of the word.  He hadn't left her, hadn't grown bored with her, or become afraid of her and her magick, her and her feelings.  He hadn't wanted to leave to gain control over himself, or because someone else came along threatening their relationship.

"Willow... wake up," a voice whispered in her ear.

She felt their breath on her skin and shivered, moaning in contentment.  "No," she mumbled, sighing as she rolled over, trying desperately to get the dream back.  It was elusive and resisted her grasp, but she was just starting to drift back into it when the voice spoke again, accompanied by a soft kiss.

"Wake up, or else your friends are bound to find us naked, and wrapped up in a nice little package on your couch."  The voice was Spike's, and he sounded very amused.

"Go away," she told him, rolling onto her back to halt his hand from tracing patterns there.  "I wanna sleep."

"As much as I'd like to see Xander keel over from a heart attack, I think it'll have to wait for another day."  He slapped her hip lightly, nudging her.

"Go away," she repeated, immediately feeling the loss of him when he sat up.  "They're not coming over, there's no reason for them to."

"They're doing that blasted test tonight, remember?  The-- oops."  Now he completely left the couch.

Willow opened her eyes and rolled over to look at him.  He was kneeling beside the couch, looking decidedly shamefaced.  "What oops?" she asked.  "What test?  There's a test?  I didn't study..." she frowned, pushing the last traces of sleep away and sat up.  "Huh?"

"Oh," he laughed humorlessly.  "Did I not tell you about that?  Meant to when I came down here."  His eyes slid over her body making her feel like she didn't have a stitch of clothing on.

She looked down.  And no wonder.  She didn't *have* a stitch of clothing on, hence the feeling.  "Tell me what?" she asked.  Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest, and crossed her feet at the ankles, trying to hide her lack of clothing.  Her eyes surreptitiously searched for her clothes.

He bent down, picking something up from the floor.  Her red blouse, the one she'd had on earlier, before their little romp in the... well, on the couch.  She quickly shoved her arms into it and pulled it down over her, wishing it were just a little longer than hip length.  Didn't cover a whole lot of her lower regions.  A hand holding black jeans was suddenly right in front of her face, forcing her to look up from her fidgeting at the waist of her shirt.

"Thanks," she mumbled, biting the bullet and sliding into them while he watched.  A tiny little thrill went through her at his unwavering look, but she shoved it down, way down, to the furthest reaches of wherever those bad feelings went.  "Um, test?" she reminded him.

He was so busy watching her wriggle into her jeans and running his tongue along his teeth that he barely heard her.  A second later, he snapped out of his reverie and looked up at her face.  Yep, she wanted to say, up here, Spike, where the mouth is talking.

"Right.  Test."  He sat back on his heels, giving her a good view of his own nakedness.  "Giles wants to test the five mile part of the bond, maybe more.  But they'll be here promptly at sunset, I'm sure.  Maybe before."

After mentally chastising Spike for staring, she found herself to be quite the hypocrite.  Her eyes had landed somewhere near his chest when he sat back, and from there, they'd traveled down, checking out the parts she hadn't gotten to really see yet.  And, wow.  Pale skin, all white and muscles rippling, and lean, narrow hips leading down to... skipping right over that part, she trailed her gaze down his muscled legs, feeling a guilty pleasure sweep through her.  She was ogling Spike like a piece of meat.  Manmeat.  Like a horse, a stud horse, only with less icky thoughts in that direction.

His words penetrated her mind seconds after he'd stopped speaking.  "Oh, hey, that's a good idea," she said enthusiastically, much more so since she'd returned her gaze to his face to find him not laughing at her ogling, he wasn't even looking at her, which, yay.  She frowned, realizing she hadn't once thought to test the bond.  "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Possibly because you've had other things on your mind, like being punched in the face, and being stabbed--by proxy--in the stomach?"  He grabbed his blue jeans and stood up, bringing his crotch right smack dab into her view.  Right in her face.  "And me," he chuckled, looking down at her.

She narrowed her wide-eyed stare and angled it at him.  "There's that jerk part of you again."  Not bothering to even look at him again, she headed upstairs to take a shower.

"Hey, forgot something," Spike called after her.

She turned to look at him, not really wanting to, but unable to stop herself.  Sure enough, he was holding all her under-things, bra, panties, socks... humiliation seemed to be complete.  She left him in the living room and practically dove into the bathroom.  Not that she was safe from him there since he'd broken the lock the night before.

Sighing, she leaned against the bathroom door and stripped off the clothes she'd just hastily put on.  She wasn't afraid of Spike, or even ashamed for having slept with him, no, what was bothering her was the complete lack of guilt, and the super wanting she had for him.  Even when he was being the aforementioned jerk, she wanted him.  That didn't sit well with her.

"Oy," she muttered, pushing away from the door, naked and satisfied and in no way thinking about Spike downstairs, holding her panties and bra.  Turning on the water to distract herself, she stepped under the spray.  Knowing it would be cold, and actually feeling that coldness were two completely different things.  She screamed as the cold water stung her face and body, dripping into spots that weren't immediately sapped of their warmth.  Ice water.  Oh, brr, she was a Willow-sicle.

The door burst open a second later, scaring the heck out of her.  She screamed and jumped back against the tiles, huddling there against the warmer-than-her tiles.

"Willow?"  It was Spike's voice.  Again.  And he sounded a little panicked.  "What happened?"  The curtain was pulled roughly aside, revealing Spike clad in the same blue jeans, and black button-up shirt he'd had on earlier.  It was unbuttoned, and his feet were bare.  She dragged her eyes from his exposed chest to his face, and found him looking anxiously at her.

She shivered some more, and then glared.  "Get out," she mumbled, straightening away from the wall.  "You scared the stuffing out of me."

"The stuffing?" he scoffed, shaking his head with a laugh.

"The water's cold, I yelled, now go," she ordered, covering herself with the curtain as best she could.  Her wet hair, plastered against her face was shoved impatiently out of her eyes so she could further glare at him without all the cold, wet drips down her face.  So much better, now they were dripping down her back, and she had to resist arching her back to get away from the cold drips, which would probably give him the absolutely wrong impression, so she suffered in silence.

His hand snaked out, well actually it only reached out, but to her, it seemed to snake out, and without blinking an eye at the freezing cold water hitting his hand and arm, he turned the hot on.  His eyes widened slightly.  "Why wasn't the hot on...?"  His laughter rang out as he chortled and snickered, generally annoying the heck out of her.  "There was no need for all of that," he laughed, stepping into the shower with her, "all you had to do was ask."

She dropped the shower curtain and shoved at him.  "Get out."  When he only moved closer, ignoring the water sluicing down his back and dripping down his face, she got out instead, stepping onto the blue bath rug with a shiver.  The cold air in the bathroom, from the wide open door had her reaching for a towel.  "And that jerk side of yours just keeps on surfacing," she muttered, wrapping the fluffy towel around herself with a glare reserved only for the annoying vampire in front of her.

He chuckled a little more, letting her know how amused he was, like she hadn't already gotten it, and vacated the tub.  "Take your shower... and, uh, try using some warm this time."  So saying, he grabbed the other towel and ran it over his head as he left the room behind.

She threw the towel on the floor and resumed her shower, ever mindful of Spike and his possible entrance into the bathroom.  And she in no way wanted that to happen again.

She didn't.

~~~*~~~

Willow, sitting stiffly on the couch, freshly showered, and blow dried, not to mention dressed, waited nervously for her friends to arrive.  Giles had called an hour before, just as she was getting out of the shower, to let her know they'd be over as soon as Xander was off work.  Xander and Buffy were going to pick Willow up while Giles and Dawn would take Spike.

Her nervousness stemmed from a few different sources.  Spike, in different clothes now since his trip into her shower, was dressed in a pair of his usual black jeans and the old red button-up shirt he'd stopped wearing a few years back.  He was sitting right beside her, his arm and leg practically plastered against hers as he watched TV.  Looked like a British crime show, but the main character had an Irish accent, so she wasn't exactly sure.  Paying more attention to Spike's closeness than the TV was the cause for this.  He was just an all around distraction.

Another reason for the nervousness was seeing Xander again after their fight the night before.  Especially since she had another bout of sex with Spike to throw in there for reasons why Xander should hate Spike.  But, they weren't going to know about that.  It was none of their business.  She wasn't Anya, she didn't walk around spouting out how many times she'd had sex the night before, and in what positions.  That was between her and Spike and no one else.

Another reason, maybe the biggest one, was the test.  What was going to happen when they took that one final step past the five mile mark?  Death?  Convulsions?  Maybe they'd sprout wings and fly to each other, or be magically transported to a neutral spot somewhere in between.  They had no way of knowing, and the unknown had always scared Willow.  Vampires, demons, monsters who sucked kid's lives from them, that she could handle.  It was the not knowing that was infinitely more frightening.  So this test was actually clearing up one of those fears while creating a whole new one in the process.

"Calm down," Spike told her, not even bothering to look away from the TV.  "They'd never let anything happen to you.  Bet they even set you up in front of the hospital, just in case."

She nodded absently, sitting up a little.  "Probably."  His words of assurance helped, but not in a big way.  "Makes sense that they-- hey, why didn't I think of that?  I usually think of this stuff."  She flopped back against the couch cushions, crossing her arms over her chest.  "It's probably this stupid bond's fault.  It's dumbing me down.  I'm losing my smarts."

Spike chuckled, turning to face her as he raised his legs on her lap and laid down.  She glared at his now dry, jean-clad legs, but he ignored her for the TV where the smoking, drinking psychiatrist was arguing with a female cop that he happened to be having an affair with.

"You're not losing your smarts, Willow.  I'm-- wait a minute."  He turned his eyes to her, and narrowed them at her angrily.  "Are you calling me stupid?"

"No, I'm calling me stupid," she corrected with a snort.  "We may be bound together but we're two separate people, Spike.  Two bodies, two minds."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, glaring at her a few more seconds before switching his attention back to the show.  "This bond trades your pain for my pain and vice versa.  Don't go thinking it saps your smarts, dumbing you down because of me."

"I didn't--" she exhaled sharply, not wanting to argue with him.  She had enough on her mind at the moment without adding an argument to it.  Laying her head back, she closed her eyes, trying to calm down.

Spike's boots on her thighs were growing increasingly more uncomfortable.  Just as they became achy, he removed them.  The couch shifted under her as he sat up.

"Are you scared?" she asked him.

"Nope."  The answer was immediate, no thinking involved.  "You shouldn't be either."

"I know," she agreed, sighing.  "It's just, you know, fear of the unknown.  I like knowing things, being prepared.  A certain amount of control is always a good thing."  Opening her eyes as the doorbell rang, she inhaled deeply, then let out her breath slowly.  "It's time."

Spike turned off the TV and pulled her to her feet, giving her a gentle push towards the door.  "We aren't going to die, Willow."  He smirked, and gave her a quick pat on the butt.  "I just got somewhat implant-free, you think I'd let myself get killed now?"

Jumping slightly at the feel of his hands on her backside, she turned to glare at him.  "Heck no."

"Hell no," he agreed.  "Now, let's--"

The door opened and Buffy came in, looking directly and solely at Willow.  "Ready?"  Her eyes stayed on Willow, completely ignoring Spike, which had Willow frowning.

Spike rolled his eyes and pulled Willow along behind him.  "We're ready," he answered, letting go of Willow's hand as he pushed past Buffy.

Willow locked the door behind them and shoved her keys into her pocket.  She should probably get a copy made for Spike, she thought absently, joining them on the sidewalk.  Spike stopped suddenly, and she ran smack into his side.  He reached out to steady her and she tossed him a quick little smile.  "There's that non-jerk side again."

He didn't respond, but maybe that was because all his attention was focused on glaring at the street.  Willow looked up to see what had him so irritated.  Xander's car was parked in front, but it was the only one there; Giles' car was nowhere to be seen.

He sighed in annoyance.  "Where's Rupert?"

Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and dragged her toward Xander's car.  "On his way."

Willow halted Buffy's mad dash to the car and turned back, gesturing to Spike.  "Shouldn't we wait?"

Buffy shook her head.  "Giles will be here in a second.  You know him, he thinks the slow lane is too fast."  She shot Spike a brief chilly look before settling her eyes on Willow's face again.  "Spike's a big boy, Willow, he can wait alone.  Come on."

Willow frowned again.  If she didn't know better, she'd think Buffy was trying to avoid Spike, but that was just plain silly.  "That's not the point," she chastised.  "You're being rude."

"Rude?" Buffy snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.  "Please.  If this is me being rude, then what do you call what Spike tried to do to you in our dorm room?"  She leaned back against the car fender, waiting.  "You remember that, right?  Fangs, bumpy face, evil growling?"

Willow frowned at Buffy who was looking all self-righteous and smug as her eyes darted once more to Spike, then back to Willow.  Willow turned to look at Spike, who was currently the proud owner of a huge scowl, and it seemed to be aimed at Buffy.  Well, now what the heck was going on with them? she wondered.  "Not you too," Willow groaned.  "Xander corrupted you, didn't he?"  She stepped back, raising her voice to include Spike.  "Look, we have to learn to get along, all right.  Buffy, I'm attached to Spike for possibly ever, and that's a long time.  So, accept it and move on.  I have."  She turned her attention to Spike.  "And you--"

Buffy pushed away from the car, leaning closer to Willow as she lowered her voice.  "No."

Willow stared at her with wide eyes as Xander got out of the car and stood in the open door.  "What's the holdup?" he asked, looking from Willow to Buffy, not even sparing a glance in Spike's direction.

Spike returned the favor as he came over to stand beside Willow.  The three occupants of the sidewalk stared at each other, ignoring Xander completely.

"No?" Willow repeated, unable to process the word correctly.  No, Buffy wouldn't move on, or wouldn't accept it, or... something else altogether?  "You were somewhat fine with things last night," she mumbled, trying to figure out what had happened between then and now, but she couldn't come up with anything.  "What happened?"

Buffy sighed, her face softening as she dropped her defensive stance.  "Nothing.  I just-- nothing.  Can we go now?"

Willow shook her head, not at all satisfied with Buffy's non-answer.  "Funny how it's still rude," she chided Buffy.  "We can wait--" a set of halogen lamps pierced the darkness, bathing them all in pools of light, forcing them to squint as the car owning them pulled up directly in front of Xander's car, parking the wrong way.

"Oh, look," Buffy pointed out unnecessarily, "Giles is here.  Let's go."  She hurried to the passenger's side door and waited for Willow to join her.

The headlights cut off, and Giles leaned out of his open window and gestured for Spike to get in.

"Giles," Xander called out, "you do realize that you're in America now, don't you?  We drive on the right side of the road here."

"No, you drive on the wrong side of the road here," Spike tossed back, beating Giles to the punch.  Giles looked a bit disappointed as he ducked his head back in the window.

Willow, feeling an even deeper sense of doom, tossed an apologetic look to her friends and ran over to Spike, stopping him in front of Giles' car.  "Wait."

He halted and turned, rolling his eyes at her good-naturedly.  "Told you before, Willow, you're not going to die."

She nodded, not completely sure of that herself, and took a few steps closer, not wanting everyone listening to their conversation.  "Just... do me a favor?  Don't die?"

He laughed and sat down on the hood of Giles' sporty red car, hooking a boot on the fender.  "Do I look like the suicidal sort?"

"Of course not," she said, dismissing the comment with a wave of her hand.  "But, this is Sunnydale, and an unknown bond thing... and you aren't exactly known for being the careful type."

He nodded seriously and reached for her hand, pulling her closer to him, until her knees touched the bumper and she could feel the heat the car was giving off as it idled.  "I'm not the careful type," he agreed, "but I'm also not careless.  I look out for myself.  It's kind of my number one priority most times."  His eyebrows raised, waiting for her acknowledgment, when she gave it, he stood up and pulled her closer.

"Hey," Xander yelled angrily, and she tried to pull away, to unwrap her own arms from around Spike's waist, but he held her still.

Unbelievably, it was Buffy who halted Xander's possible mad dash to tear them apart.  "Leave them alone," she told him in no uncertain terms.

"But," Xander protested, his voice almost a whine.

"Xander," Buffy warned, but that was all Willow heard, though she could imagine Buffy giving him one of her silencing looks.

Willow sighed against Spike's chest, feeling quite content to stay there forever, wrapped up in the comforting arms of the man she... cared about.  Just a little, she admitted.

When she relaxed against him, he groaned, tightening his arms around her as his voice whispered in her ear, husky and full of promise.  "You have no idea how much I want you, do you?"

So stunned and startled at the feelings the question sent fluttering through her, she pulled back, and got another shock, one she could've lived without.  Apparently, when she'd pulled away, she'd moved so quickly that she'd taken Spike by surprise, because he had to drag his eyes from where they were fixed to Buffy's face.  When his eyes finally dropped to Willow's, there was a whole lot of wariness there.  She dropped her arms and stepped away from him, hurt causing her throat to tighten and her chest to feel heavy.

Not wanting to look, but needing to, she turned her head, seeing Buffy standing beside Xander at the driver's side door, her eyes on them, her face blank.  That meant she was hiding something.  Keeping something to herself.  And Willow had an idea that that something had to do with Spike.

"I've gotta go," she told him, thinking to make a hasty exit.  But then she remembered why they were there, and what they were doing, and there was no hastiness involved in her exit.  She was happy they weren't going to the same place, because she really wanted to be away from him right now.  "You should go," she said, gesturing to Giles and Dawn.  "They're waiting."

"Are you--" he began, but Willow ignored him, walking stiffly away, feeling as if her body was hardening with each step she took.  And when she reached the car door, she just knew she was going to break into a million pieces and drop to the sidewalk, to be crunched under boot heels and stray tires, possibly a kid's bouncing ball.  But she didn't shatter, her hand closed on the door handle and pulled it open without a problem.  Climbing inside, she shut the door with a quiet, but firm click and stared out the side window.

Xander climbed in behind the steering wheel, unaware that anything had happened.  Unaware that Willow's heart was starting to feel painfully empty.  Buffy went around the car, circling in front of it, and Willow tried not to look, but she couldn't keep her eyes from darting out the windshield.  She caught a furtive glance between Buffy and Spike, which turned into a glare from both of them.

When she forced herself to look fully at Spike, she saw the blank impassiveness she was used to seeing from him before the bond started.  His eyes bored into hers as he stared through the windshield, straight at her.  Or so she imagined.  Returning her eyes to the side window, she ignored him, and waited for Xander to start the car and leave.  As soon as Buffy's door shut, Xander started the car, but didn't immediately leave.

He grabbed something from beside him, and held it to his mouth as it crackled and hissed before falling quiet.  "This is Red Eagle, calling the Penis-mobile.  I repeat, this is Red Eagle calling the Penis-mobile."  His chortling laughter normally would've had Willow snorting with laughter herself, but she couldn't find anything stronger than a strained smile to toss at him when he looked into the rearview mirror at her.

"Xander," Buffy gasped, smacking him on the arm.  "My sister's in that car.  She's listening to the walkie talkie... heck, she's probably controlling the thing.  So, there'll be no penis talk around her.  Ever."

Xander groaned, dropping his head back onto the headrest.  "Fine, fine, no penis talk, but what do you suggest I call him?"

The radio crackled, then Dawn's voice, sounding tinny and far away, came over the walkie talkie.  "Giles asks that you please not say that ever again," she giggled, sticking her hand out the back window and waving at them.

All eyes were suddenly riveted to Giles' car as he turned in his seat toward the back, where Dawn was sitting.  The walkie talkie went from static, to silence a few times, and then Giles' broken words cut through.  "..this thing.  Can't--" static.  "... hold this one?"  More static, and then Dawn's voice as well as Spike's came over the walkie.

"No, Giles, hold the blue one down.  Let go of the--" Dawn was trying not to laugh as she explained how to use the walkie talkie, but they could all hear it, even across the radio.

"--a bloody button down, you stupid git?" Spike growled, and Willow lifted her eyes to him.  She couldn't see him clearly in the darkness, but she could see him enough to know that he was stretched out in his seat, looking bored.  Inside, he was probably seething.  It was just a gut feeling.  Or maybe it was because that's how he'd always looked to her.

"Let's just go," Giles' voice snapped over the walk talkie, startling her out of her musings.  Her eyes focused once again, and she found herself staring straight at Spike.  As they drove past Giles' car, she felt his eyes on her, but refused to look.

The drive to their destination was a quiet one for Willow, as she contemplated this new news.  No, not new, old news really.  She'd known he was in love with Buffy, but that he'd stared over at Buffy while touching her, holding her, whispering words to her... it hurt.  So much.  So much more than it should.

Buffy turned in her seat once to ask her if she was all right.  Willow nodded and smiled until Buffy accepted her answer and turned back around in her seat with a slightly less worried frown.  The truth was that she was so far from being okay.  Once again, she'd done the wrong thing by letting her heart lead her into waters best not traversed.  Again.  Thankfully she'd found out in time, before her heart was more involved than it was.

Glancing out the window at the nighttime scenery flying by, she listened to Xander and Dawn tell jokes to each other on the walkie talkies, and tried not to think.  That lasted all of ten seconds.  If she was completely honest with herself, what hurt most was that Spike hadn't pretended to care about her at all as he seduced her and manipulated her into his bed.  She'd just assumed he felt something.  Assumed he was trying not to think of Buffy while touching Willow, trying not to look at Buffy as he whispered in Willow's ear.  Hers, damn it.  Not Buffy's.

A few minutes later, she realized they were slowing down, and parking.  Looking at her surroundings, she had to laugh harshly.  They were in the parking lot of the hospital, just like Spike had predicted.  Too bad he hadn't predicted her... what?  Heartbreak?  No, not a broken heart, just a slightly bruised one.  Scratched and banged up a little.

Taking a deep breath, wanting this over as soon as possible so she could get back home to be alone, maybe eat a pint or two of ice cream, she left the relative safety of the backseat and stood there, looking around.  She'd expected to feel a worsening of anxiety the further they got from each other, maybe an internal warning system, but there was nothing.  Not even a tingling.

Just as she started to move away from the car to join Xander and Buffy, they jumped forward, halting her progress.

"No!  Stay right there," Buffy told her, physically holding her arm to keep her still.

"We've got this mapped out to exactly five miles," Xander explained, pointing at the ground with the walkie talkie.  "When Giles and Spike are in place, we'll very slowly, and very carefully walk with you.  Just... wait."  He held his hands out soothingly, as if she were a savage beast about to attack him.

She smiled a little, for real this time, and leaned back against the car door.  "Okay, staying in this spot until further notice," she told them.  Looking curiously at the numbered markings on the ground, she had to wonder when they'd had the time to come out here and mark this parking lot with chalk.  Pink chalk.  "Does Spike get blue chalk?" she asked with a chuckle.

"Yep," Buffy answered, "although, Xander tried to make me use pink."  She grinned sideways at Xander.

"It was the least I could do for him," Xander tossed back, completely serious.  "I mean, seriously, what do you get for the vampire who 'accidentally' sexes up your best friend?"  Lifting the walkie talkie, he moved slightly away from them.  "Giles?"

As the walkie talkie crackled to life, Buffy nudged Willow's arm to get her to look up from her sudden perusal of her shoes.  "You okay?  Did something happen earlier?"  She frowned, like she was unsure if she should interfere or not, then gave in and did just that.  "Did Spike say or do something to you?"  She leaned closer conspiratorially.  "'Cause, I can't beat him up anymore, but I could give you an Indian Rub that'll make him smart a little."

Willow snorted in amusement and smiled at Buffy.  "No, he didn't do or say anything wrong.  I'm just nervous," she lied, and rather expertly if Buffy's acceptance was any indication.  "Um, I was wondering sort of the same thing.  Did something happen between you and Spike last night?"

Buffy's head shot up and her eyes darted from Willow's face to her own hands before moving over to Xander a few feet away.  "Why?  I mean, what do you mean?"

"Oh, that's reassuring," Willow laughed, the tight knot in her stomach growing bigger.  "It's just that... when we talked last night, in the bathroom, you said you were sort of okay with the whole me and Spike thing.  Not that you were really, really happy and glow-y about it, but, you know, you said you were okay with it.  And that you wouldn't be terribly opposed to Spike and I dating if that's what we wanted, as funny as that is, but now..." she trailed off, hoping Buffy would take up the slack and deny it.  Deny it all, and tell Willow that nothing whatsoever had happened between her and Spike.  That she was being silly.

Buffy didn't deny it.  She nodded, and once again dropped her eyes to her hands, then raised them with a sigh.  "It wasn't just a random vampire that I saw Angel in last night.  That I kissed.  It was--"

"Spike," Willow whispered, hating herself for the twinge of jealousy that shot through her.  Hating herself also because it didn't go away, it actually stuck around and decided to invite its friends, envy and paranoia.  "You kissed Spike."

"Yeah, and it really took me aback.  I mean, more than aback, I was all... aside and a-front too."  Her voice lowered enough to keep the conversation between just the two of them.  "What freaked me out more than anything, even more than the fact that I threw myself at Spike was that he didn't take advantage of the situation.  Forcing me to realize that he's not as bad as I've always made him out to be.  Though he's still evil," she added.

Willow frowned, positive she'd heard Buffy wrong.  Spike hadn't taken advantage of Buffy while she was vulnerable and kissing him?  Kissing him with all the love she felt for Angel?  "Really?" she asked skeptically, not allowing herself to believe it.  Even if it was true, so what?  What did it mean except that he wasn't stupid enough to tick Buffy off.  "He was probably trying to get on your good side," she said softly.  "He's smart enough to know that a small instant of pleasure isn't going to end well after your memory returned, so he twisted it to make himself look good, hoping it would help his cause in the long run."

Buffy was shaking her head before Willow even got through the first sentence.  "No, after a year of watching him do just that, I know the difference between manipulation and reality.  This was real, because he was angry with himself for stopping the kiss.  I didn't see it right away, but afterwards, when I had time to think about it, I know I saw self recrimination."

Willow still didn't believe it.  She'd seen the look on his face as he gazed at Buffy, the want and need in his voice, and knew it had to have been directed at Buffy as much as his look was.  Nodding and smiling, a favorite pastime of hers lately, she raised her voice.  "Are they ready yet?"

Xander held up a finger and continued to listen to the walkie talkie, which was pressed tightly against his ear.  She could barely hear it from her spot a few feet away, and thought maybe the distance was too great for them to work perfectly.  Should've bought the expensive ones, she thought absently.

"Willow," Buffy said softly, tossing a quick look Xander's way.  Seeing he was still occupied, she continued.  "I didn't intend for it to happen, and I don't think it changes anything between you two, so whatever is there... it's still there.  You know, if anything is there."

"I know," Willow told her.  "But, there's nothing there, so there's nothing to worry about."

Buffy nodded, though Willow could see she was far from convinced.  "Okay.  If that's how it is..."

"It is," Willow said, her smiling straining to the point of breaking.  "So, when does this show get on the road?"

"And that, dear ladies, is the question of the day.  Or, night," Xander said, joining them again.  He held the walkie talkie up, glaring at it with eyes filled with disappointment.  "This stupid thing isn't exactly old reliable, but it works.  It's just a little faint sounding is all."

"Are they ready?" Buffy asked, positioning herself at the long five mile chalk mark drawn at the end of a parking space.  Facing Willow, she breathed in deeply, looking ready to take on a football team of vampires.

"Yep.  Just waiting on us to assume the position," Xander answered, doing just that.  He positioned himself on one side of Buffy, leaving a space between them for Willow to walk through.  "Whenever you're ready, Willow.  But, just... tell us before you go."

Feeling so much like a baby about to take her first steps, Willow informed them, "I'm about to move my right leg.  I repeat, I am about to move my right leg."

They both grinned at her, and relaxed their postures.  "Okay," Buffy laughed.  "We get it.  Overreaction gal and guy are gone."

"Yeah, completely sort of not all the way gone," Xander agreed.  "But, you know, we just don't want anything to happen to you is all."

"I know," Willow told them, grateful to have friends like them, friends that cared about her and wanted to take care of her.  "And I'm appreciative, really, but could you maybe not make me even more nervous than I already am?"

They consulted each other, frowning and gesturing to one another, before nodding in agreement.  "Yeah, we can do that," Xander agreed.

"I think so, yeah," Buffy added.

"Okay, I know you're trying to make this easier, and make me laugh and lighten up and relax, but I gotta tell you.  Not gonna happen."

"No?" Xander inquired, frowning.

"Not so much," Willow told him.  "Can I move now?"  Without waiting for an answer, she walked calmly over to them, stopping just before the chalk mark.  The part of the parking lot they were in was deserted now, and probably didn't get a lot of traffic during the day, since it was in the very back of the hospital, as far away as possible, almost to the street.   However, she couldn't help wondering, then asking, how the chalk marks had remained there with all the driving over that had to have occurred at least a little, not to mention the asphalt was darkened with water.  But, the chalk mark was there, all pink and perfect.

"Magick," Buffy answered, shrugging lightly.  "Giles enchanted the chalk to stay until we say the magick word, releasing it back into the wild."

"Oh, neat," she said, smiling at them as they waited patiently.  "Magick chalk.  Ooo, like Simon."

Buffy looked back and forth between them in confusion.  "Who's Simon?"

Xander laughed, nearly giggling as he sang, "Hello my name is Simon, and I like to do draw-rings."  His horribly massacred British accent had them all giggling by the time he was done.  "The chalk kid from Captain Kangaroo!  He was so cool."

"What's happening over there?" Giles asked, his faint voice crackling over the walkie talkie.  "We're waiting for Willow to make the first move."

Xander lifted the walkie talkie to his mouth, still grinning, but no longer laughing.  "Sorry, she's nervous, we're just trying to get her to relax.  She's about to go now."

"All right--" Giles sent back.

"Good luck, Willow!" Dawn yelled quickly, finishing just as the button was released.

Willow opened her mouth to tell them she was moving, but then decided to just do it.  Go for it before her nerves got the better of her.  She took one, then two steps up to the line, and kept on going for five steps.  A feeling she was somehow familiar with flowed through her from head to foot.  It wasn't something she knew, or had felt before, but it was definitely familiar.  And yet, she felt no different than normal, there was no impending doom rushing through her any longer.  Smiling widely, thinking maybe they'd gotten off lucky with this part of the bond, she turned toward her friends, walking backward.

"Nothing," she laughed, holding her hands out from her sides.  "Nothing's happening."

"Willow, stop!" Giles yelled over the walkie talkie, and her blood ran cold.

Not only did she stop walking, but she stopped breathing as well.  Stopped trying to act like Spike didn't matter to her.  Stopped lying to herself about a lot of things.  "Spike?" she whispered.  "Is he okay?"

Xander and Buffy ran over to her, Buffy holding her hand reassuringly as Xander tried to get hold of Giles.  "It's okay, Willow.  I'm sure he's fine."  Even so, Buffy watched Willow's face for a sign of pain or distress, ready to pick her up and run with her to the hospital if anything happened.

"Giles!" Xander yelled for the third time, slapping the walkie talkie against his hand when there was nothing but static on the other end.  Walking away from them, toward the car, he pushed the button again, demanding a response from Giles.  "Answer me, damn it, Giles.  Willow's about to lose it here."

"... is fine.  A vampire-- us-- took care of it.  Everything's fine now.  Do you copy?" Giles demanded right back.

"We copy," Xander said, a sigh of relief working its way past his lips, and Willow and Buffy followed suit.  "And next time?  Don't freakin' scare us like that again!" he yelled.

"Well I'm so very sorry my bodily beating got in the way of holding your hand," Giles snapped back.  "Next time I'll make sure to drag my bruised and bloodied body to the walkie talkie to keep you apprised of the situation."

"He does sarcasm way to well," Buffy snorted, yanking the walkie talkie out of Xander's hand as he was about to smash it against the hood of his car.  "We still need it," she remarked, pushing the button and bringing it to her mouth.  "Is Spike past the marker?" she asked.

Willow didn't care at this point.  All she cared about was that Spike was all right.  Not dead.  Not laying on the ground, convulsing and bleeding from his ears.  Releasing her fear wasn't an easy thing to do, and she really had to work hard not to drop to her knees, sobbing.  Instead of being weak, she straightened her back and bolstered her courage, preparing to begin her walk again.

"No," Dawn answered, "hold on for a second."  Silence descended, then she came back on, considerably more subdued than she'd been in the car.  "Giles is hurt," she informed them.  "A vampire attacked us, but Spike killed it.  Giles--"

"Is he all right?" Buffy asked, her voice thick with worry.  "Does he need help?"

"No," Dawn answered, her own voice shaking a bit.  "Um, he says he's fine, but--" she lowered her voice, obviously not wanting Giles to hear her.  "Spike thinks his arm his broken.  Giles' arm, not Spike's."

Buffy bit her lip in indecision, but before she could settle on a course of action, Giles was back on the walkie talkie.

"I'm fine.  Let's get the test over with, and then I'll make my weekly visit to hospital."  His voice was strained, his teeth practically grinding.  "Spike's in place, is Willow?"

"Um," Buffy looked over at Willow to see her still in the same spot.  "Yeah, she's past the marker."

Willow took one step away from her friends, and then another, and another.  Once again the familiar feeling shot through her, and she was left to wonder at it.  "Still nothing," she informed them.  "I don't think--" suddenly, all the air rushed out of her in one breath and she fell to her knees, very much like she hadn't wanted to do earlier.  Pain shot through her eyes and burrowed deep into her brain, forcing a cry of agony out of her mouth.

Both Buffy and Xander rushed to her aid, Xander yelling over the walkie talkie while Buffy helped her up, dragging her back the way she'd come, but it was too late.  The link was now complete, in every way possible.  She could hear Spike's thoughts, feel his emotions, and feel the pain in his head from the chip... and then it was gone, and she was alone again.  "I think-- I think that whatever that was, it's gone now," she whispered through a throat raw from screaming.

"You ask me, you think too much sometimes," Spike told her solemnly.

She stopped and looked around, already knowing she wouldn't see him.  He was still five miles away, it was just his thoughts she could hear.

"Not completely done," she sighed, resting her head on Xander's shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Xander asked gently, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek.

They both watched her anxiously as she straightened up and took a deep breath.  "I'm fine, but you need to not touch me.  Spike doesn't like it."

Xander frowned angrily.  "First of all, so what?  Second of all, how the hell does he know I was touching you?"

Buffy looked around cautiously, as if Spike, fangs and claws flashing, was about to hop out of the darkness and attack them.  "Good questions."

An exhausted sigh worked its way past her lips.  "When we were first bound together, we could read each other's minds, hear each other's thoughts.  This is sort of like that, only stronger.  Not only do I hear his thoughts, and vice versa, but I feel them."

"Feel them?" Buffy repeated.  "You feel his thoughts, or you feel what he feels along with a certain thought?"

"Bingo on the second one, Slayer."  Willow raised an eyebrow at them.

"Wow, Will, that was a really scary impression of Spike you did there."  Xander took a step away from her, and then another as she laughed, not entirely in a Willow-like way.  "Let's not do that often, hmm?"

"Spike, get out of my head," Willow ground out, closing her eyes tightly, fighting the urge to punch Xander.  "I am not hitting him," she said in exasperation.

"Ruin my fun," Spike chided her, sighing heavily.

She rolled her eyes and stood up.  "Spike, get out of my-- hey!"  Her hand shot out and settled on Buffy's shoulder.  As with the last time this had happened, Willow hadn't been the one to move her hand.  "No feeling Buffy up in my body, Spike!"  Her anger got through to him, and he removed her hand, leaving it alone.

"Relax," Spike sighed, his words lingering in her mind like a caress.  "I had to check out how far this thing went."  His voice turned lecherous and she could just imagine the smirk on his face.  "You're lucky I didn't make you touch yourself," he laughed.

"Yeah, well," she huffed, ignoring Buffy and Xander as she stalked toward the marking line.  "Maybe I should make you touch yourself, you pervert."

"Go ahead," he chuckled, "give Dawn and Giles a nice show."

Tired of arguing with him, and not really in the mood for it, she ignored him as well.  A few seconds later, as she neared the car, she felt a tugging on her mind, she closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to figure out what it was and where it was coming from.  Was it magick, or the bond?  As she followed the tenuous thread connecting her mind with Spike's, she heard his thoughts growing louder, drowning out her own until they faded again, and she was alone.  Thank goodness.  Opening her eyes, she mumbled, "If that's all we get when we're too far apart, we definitely got off lucky-- Ahh!"

Dawn and Giles were there, in the parking lot-- no, not a parking lot.  They were in an alley.  A nice dark alley, with pastel blue chalk markings all around them.  Dawn was kneeling beside Giles, who was cradling his left arm close to his chest.  His very broken, and bloody left arm.

Both of them were now staring at her as well.  Spike wasn't usually one to scream, so it had to be a little odd seeing and hearing him do just that.  Seeing the pain on Giles' face though, she momentarily let the being-in-Spike's-body part go, and ran over to join them, dropping to her knees in front of Giles.

"Oh, God, Giles, are you all right?  Ew, that looks really gross," she commented, wincing in sympathy at the gash and bulging bone sticking out of his forearm.  "Definitely broken," she muttered.  "Um, I could try to do a healing spell," she told him, raising her hands and letting them hover over his arm for a second before dropping them back to her thighs, "but I'm afraid I won't be able to set it right and then you'd have to have it re-broken, which, ow, so, I think hospital instead."

Both Dawn and Giles were still staring at her in open-mouthed shock, not wrapping their minds around the situation as quickly as she had.  Giles climbed laboriously to his feet, still staring at her.  Dawn followed suit, as did Willow.  Dawn lifted the walkie talkie to her mouth, eyes still fixed to Willow's face.  Though, that would be Spike's face, wouldn't it?

"Buffy, Xander... is-- is Spike there with you?" she asked casually.

Buffy's voice came on, slightly breathless.  Oh, God, what if she'd just fought Spike and killed him?  Hurt him?  "He's..." Buffy giggled, and Willow's eyes widened.  "He's here," she laughed, "and he seems to have brought a little something along with him."  She paused and then they all heard Willow's voice cussing them out in a nifty new British accent.

Willow grabbed the walkie talkie from Dawn's loose hand and walked a few feet away from them, feeling really peculiar in Spike's body.  Her stride was much longer, and things were there that didn't use to be... not on her anyway.  "Buffy, um... is everyone all right?" she asked softly, hardly noticing Spike's deep, rich, unaccented voice coming through instead of her own.

Buffy laughed a quick yes before breaking off into more gales of laughter.  "I'm sorry, Willow," she gasped, "I just can't help it.  He's-- well, you're pacing back and forth, and growling, and it's really, really funny."

Willow thought that was debatable, but that was because she had a little inside information.  "Buffy, Spike's a vampire."

"Duh," was Buffy's overly simplistic answer, but then she stopped laughing and calmed down considerably.  "Oh.  Xander, you might want to stop taunting Spike.  'Cause he's-- hey!"

"Willow," her own voice crackled over the walkie talkie, British accent sounding a little weird, "I want my own body back.  Undo whatever you did."

"I didn't do anything, Spike.  I think it's part of the bond."  She tossed a quick look toward Giles, who was looking way too pale, and Dawn, who was equally as pale as she tried to wrap a silk scarf she'd been wearing, around the wound.  "Giles needs to go to the hospital, so I think we're on our way over there."

"First," Giles gasped, as Dawn tightened the scarf, "first, we need to try to reverse this... thing.  Go back to the five mile mark, and tell Spike to do the same."  He smiled encouragingly at Dawn who was looking quite shaken after her nursing duties.

"Are you sure?" Willow asked uncertainly.  He nodded and she sighed, pressing the blue button on the walkie talkie.  "Spike, go back to the five mile mark, that might reverse it.  Or so Giles thinks."

"Sure, pawn the blame off on me in case it doesn't work," Giles laughed weakly, gulping a few times.

Dawn tossed her an impatient and worried frown, looking so much like Buffy caught in a moment of indecision, that Willow had to smile as she joined them at the five mile mark.

"He'll be okay," she assured Dawn, though she was less sure of that than she'd been a minute go.  He was going into shock.  Pressing the button again, she informed the others that she was in position.

"Bloody hell," her voice growled back.  "It's not happening, Willow.  Do something," he ordered.

"Fine," she sighed back.  "Giles, gimme your keys.  Dawn, get in the car."  Sliding a shoulder under Giles' unhurt arm, she helped him to the car, setting him gently in the front seat as Dawn climbed in back.  Willow climbed in behind the steering wheel, strapping herself in and starting the car.  She looked around the dark alley, preparing to back out, but not knowing which way to go.  "Uh, where are we?"

"Fifth and Vine," Dawn answered, anxiously sitting forward in her seat.  "Hurry, Willow."

"Don't crash us please," Giles gasped out.  "I'd like to keep this car."

"Oh, please," Willow muttered, backing expertly out of the alley to the right, and shifting into gear, pulling out onto the street.  "Unlike Anya, I actually *have* a license."

"*Now* he lets me drive his new car," Spike mumbled in her head.  Spotting the walkie talkie in Dawn's hand by her head, she realized he wasn't in her head anymore.  Just on the walkie talkie.

"Shut up, Spike," Giles ground out, shifting toward the door to keep his arm from jarring on the seat as they went over bumps.

"Shut up, Spike," Dawn said into the walkie talkie, before releasing the button.  Half a second later, she pressed it again, and added, "Giles' words, not mine."  Again she released the button, and again she pressed it and added, "Although, yeah, hello, shut up, Spike."

Willow glanced back at Dawn in the rearview mirror wondering what had her so ticked off at Spike this time.  "Dawnie?"  Returning her eyes to the road, she alternately watched Dawn sigh and roll her eyes, and kept a close watch on where she was headed.

"What?" Dawn huffed.  "He's a jerk.  One minute he's in love with Buffy, the next he's sleeping with you."

Sighing heavily, Willow glued her eyes to the road again.  "That was--"

"An accident," Giles and Dawn repeated together.

Now it was Willow's turn to huff.  "Well it was.  We were both asleep, it wasn't like we planned it."

Dawn snorted rudely, leaning forward again.  "I know how sex works, Willow.  And I really don't think it can happen accidentally."

"Well," Willow admitted, "I thought he was Oz.  He thought... actually, I don't know what he thought, but by the time I realized who he was, it was too late, and–"

"Oh, God, kill me now," Giles groaned, though not in pain this time.  The look of distaste and disgust on his face was enough to make both girls laugh.

"Sorry, Giles.  I'm just saying, it wasn't intentional."  One by one she rubbed her hands, which had started to tingle a little bit during her explanation, onto Spike's jeans, wincing as the sensitive flesh touched the rough fabric.  "Are vampires super sensitive to touch?" she asked Giles.

He frowned, shaking his head at her.  "No, not really.  At least, I've never heard it mentioned before.  I believe it's just their eyes, ears, and smell."  His eyes fell to her hands, which were barely touching the wheel now.  "Is something wrong?"

Holding the steering wheel with only her fingertips helped, but it left a lot of control behind.  They were halfway to the hospital, and no traffic was around on the side streets she was taking, but she still wasn't comfortable with the little bit of control she now had over the car.  The tingling in her hands had grown, and by now she could hardly stand to have them touching air, let alone anything else.

"Willow?" Dawn called, tapping her on the shoulder.  "Want me to ask Spike?"

Shrugging out from under Dawn's touch, she shook her head.  "No, this isn't normal.  Don't touch me, Dawnie, it hurts."  Pulling quickly to the side of the road, she jumped out of the car, about to go nuts from the overwhelming sensitivity to everything touching her, including clothes.  She was a guy now, so shirtless was okay for her, right?  Trying to unbutton the red shirt, she fumbled with the top button before finally giving up with a groan.

"Dawn, unbutton my shirt please.  Hurry."  When Dawn didn't move right away, Willow snapped at her.  "Now, damn it!"  Immediately feeling contrite, she apologized and shifted from foot to foot.  "Please, Dawn."

"Um," Dawn stalled, looking to Giles, who nodded his ascent.  "Okay, but... don't vamp out on me, all right?"

"Couldn't if I tried," Willow told her, debating on whether or not to remove her boots as well.  "Spike's the vampire, not me."

Dawn's eyes widened as she went to work on the small red buttons on Spike's shirt.  "Are Buffy and Xander okay with him?  He-- he won't hurt them, right?"

Impatient with Dawn's carefully controlled fingers working the buttons of Spike's shirt, Willow grabbed it by the collar and tore it off of her in one fell swoop.  "I don't think he will," she assured Dawn, feeling an immediate relief as air hit her skin rather than cloth.  The relief was short-lived.  Her legs were starting to tingle and she knew she'd be having to remove them soon as well.  Time to go.  "What's going on?" she groaned, then turned back to Giles.  Tossing him the car keys, she backed away, gasping with each movement that brought cloth in touch with skin.  "Something's seriously wrong.  I-- I have to go.  I have to find Spike."

"Why?" he asked, climbing out of the car to circle around it.  "If he's in the same shape as you, you can't help him."

She shook her head, knowing deep down in her gut that the only way to stop whatever it was from happening, was to touch Spike.  "He'll help," she tossed back, slowly backing away, crossing the street as she talked.  "The other restriction of the bond is to touch each other once a week.  I think I have to go touch Spike."

"Ew," Dawn shuddered, looking almost as disgusted as Giles.

"Go," Giles told her.  "We'll be all right."  When she hesitated for a second, he picked up the walkie talkie from the seat.  "I'll call Xander.  Go."

She nodded, and was gone, running through the park toward the hospital.  Each step she took jarred her, sending shots of electricity through her body, becoming more and more uncomfortable the further she got.  Still, Spike was taller than her, and physically stronger, so she made good time, and hit the parking lot just a few minutes later.  A few yards had trampled flowers in their gardens, and maybe a dog might've been let out through a fence that hadn't gotten closed, but she made it.

Xander's car was nowhere in sight, and neither was Spike.

"Damn it," she yelled in frustration, leaning over with her hands on her thighs to catch her breath.  As soon as her palms touched the jeans, she screamed.  Holding out her hands, palm up, she saw angry, raw, red flesh.  They looked like they'd been burned, but without the blisters.  The pain was similar too, and her legs and feet were feeling the same way.  She had to find Spike.  Now.

"My house," she realized.  Turning around on the small grassy knoll that ran along the sidewalk and parking lot, she ran face first into a low hanging tree branch.  "Ow."  That didn't quite capture the pain she felt at the moment, so she stomped her foot, and slid down the hill to land on her butt.  Unable to rub the offending parts of her anatomy without hurting herself, she screamed out her frustration and anger.  Spike was sure to have a big hulking bruise on his face from that stupid branch.  This night was turning out to be one of the worst of her life.  Her anger was boiling over, and the branch had to be the one to pay the price.  She flung her hand out, muttering words she didn't even know she knew, and the branch broke off and went flying, impaling itself through a car's windshield across the street, setting off the alarm.

Laying backward on the hill, for just a second before pushing herself to her feet and heading toward her house, she let out a sigh that would've done Dizzy Gillespie proud.  And then she jumped up and took off running.  She was almost in agony now.  If she hadn't been extremely aware of the night creatures and even the human night dwellers of this town, she'd have shed every scrap of clothing Spike had on, but she was, so she didn't.

"He better appreciate this," she mumbled, jumping over a lawn chair in the backyard she was currently trespassing in.  A dog, in the yard next door, followed her along the chain link fence, barking every inch of the way.  Paying it no more attention than she would a flea, she continued on her trek through the finest and not-so finest backyards of Sunnydale.

As she neared her own block, she charged through the park, rounding a stand of trees and running straight into herself.  Both she and Spike fell to the grass, staring at each other for only a split second before jumping at each other.

"It hurts," she whispered, running her hands along Spike's arms.  "It hurts.  Why does it hurt?"

"Don't know," he mumbled back, kissing her frantically, pressing as close to her as he possibly could.  "Thought I was gonna go insane."

"My hands are raw, and... ow."  Feeling a slight lessening of the pain, she pulled away, showing him her-- his hands.  He lifted one of them, tracing a finger down the palm, which was no longer as red as it was before.  His touch left a trail of cooled skin in its wake.  "Oh, that feels good," she encouraged, urging him to touch her some more.  Her eyes slid shut at the relief pouring through her entire body just from his touch.  "So good."

"Mm," he agreed, leaning forward to kiss her again.  She didn't pull away or stop, she had no intention of doing that, in fact.  Not when it promised cooling relief.  His hands trailed down her face and arms, and neither one stopped to ponder the fact that they were essentially touching themselves.

"Gives the phrase, 'touching yourself' a whole new meaning, doesn't it?" he chuckled in her ear.

Well, okay, she didn't stop to ponder it, but apparently he had.  Sliding her hands up Spike's neck and back down his shoulders, she moaned, a sense of urgency pouring through her.  Kissing him fully, she pressed up against him, feeling her new penis hardening the more he touched her.  She held back a giggle at the thought, and concentrated on the feelings he was invoking, because wow, were they awesome.

Laying back on the grass, she pulled him down on top of her, and rolled over, so she was on top.  If they were going to do this, and they definitely were, then she wanted to be in charge.  Had to be a guy thing.  She reached down, ripping open her jeans, feeling her erection pop free of its confines.  Unable to stop herself, she looked down and took a gander at herself.  "Wow, I'm big," she muttered.

Spike burst out laughing, and she was a little amazed at how sexy his laughter sounded when it was wrapped around her voice.  Her stomach fluttered, like it always did when he was... well, nowadays it happened whenever he was near it seemed.  Was this simply her own reaction to him, or was it his reaction to her?

Spike's hands worked at the buttons of his jeans, shoving them down his hips at the same time as she pulled hers down.  She kissed him, tasting what he tasted when he kissed her, feeling what he felt when he touched her, and was closer to him in that moment, despite the body switch, than she'd ever been to anyone else.  Walking in someone else's shoes was a very intimate experience.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and prepared to have her first penis experience.  Just as she was opening her eyes, a feeling of vertigo went through her and the world went blurry, then shifted.  A moment later, the world righted itself, and she was staring up at Spike in his own body.  Neither one paused to take in this new information, Spike thrust inside of her, and rolled over, letting her have a go at being on top.

By this time, with all the extra sensory feelings shooting through the both of them, and the intimacy of sharing a body, in more ways than one, they were moving frantically against each other.  Mating, not making love.  She lifted herself up and down on him, settling her hands behind him on his raised thighs as she moved, using him for leverage, which didn't work that well.

She moaned in frustration, needing touch more than friction.  Leaning down to press herself against him fully, she settled her mouth roughly over his.  He rolled them over and thrust quickly into her, setting up a quick pace that she matched and met with a gasp.  She wasn't far from orgasm, and having been in his body, she knew he wasn't either.  Helping both of them along, she caressed every inch of bare flesh she could reach, which, was quite a bit since she'd just made a mad dash through town shirtless.  He touched her as well, his fingers moving with a little less gentleness, and a lot more skill.

A minute later, they both found release, and arched into each other before collapsing.  Silence descended as they calmed down, coming off that sexual, and magickal high.  Spike lifted himself off of her, and rolled to the grass beside her, lifting his hips to pull up his pants.

Willow slid hers up as well, buttoning them with shaking fingers.  The pain was gone completely now, and they were back in there bodies, but once again they'd ended up sleeping together.  She'd vowed not to do that again until she was sure he was at least trying to get over Buffy.  Vowed to herself that she wouldn't let him slip into her heart and break it, but after tonight, she knew it was too late for that.  He was already there, and setting up camp.

Spike sat up beside her, lifting his knees and settling his forearms on them, hanging his head to stare at the grass.  "God, that was--"

"The pain is mostly gone," she said quietly, not caring to hear his thoughts on the matter right now.  They'd deal with this later.  And his Buffy obsession too.  Maybe.  "I guess all we needed to do was... touch."

Spike chuckled flatly, sighing as he looked away.  "I was doing just fine without the added encouragement."

She stood up, smoothing down her blouse.  "I should go check on Giles."  Squinting into the darkness, she kicked lightly at the ground beneath her feet.  "He looked pretty bad when I... oh, God, I just left them there."

Spike stood up as well, avoiding looking at her just as much as she was avoiding him.  "Giles called Xander to go get them.  They're fine."

She nodded, chancing a look at him.  He was frowning, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back jean pocket.  Huh, she hadn't even realized they were there, otherwise she may have thrown them out.  Pointing in the direction of the hospital, she shrugged.  "I should go."

"Yeah," he agreed, drawing in a lungful of smoke.  "Think I'll walk you.  Don't wanna experience that again anytime soon."

~Part: 13~

Spike yanked his half-smoked cigarette out of his mouth and stared at it irritably, twisting it back and forth between his fingers.  The butt was thoroughly squished already, so he threw it to the parking lot with a sigh.  Why was it that women were always what did him in?  Their motives were never clear, their opinions vague, and their emotions... he'd need a few more centuries just to get a hint at what they felt.  Certainly what they said and what they did were two different things.

"Hey, Spike," Dawn said from where she'd been leaning against the wall with her arms over her chest, watching him pace for the past two minutes.  "Holes in concrete?  Not so easy to do.  Even for a vampire."

Spike halted his pacing, tossing her an annoyed look.  "Oh, so you're talking to me again, are you?"  Joining her at the brick wall, he ignored her comment as well as the benches spread here and there next to the hospital entrance.  "What's the occasion?" he asked, digging in his pockets for another cigarette.

"Happy Vampire Day!" she said excitedly, grinning at him.

"Pet," he said in amusement, "that didn't work on me the first time you said it, it's not going to work now."  That had been an odd night.  Halloween, his first year in Sunnydale.  He sighed softly, wishing things back to the way they used to be.  Life was so much simpler then.

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding wisely.  The effect was ruined by a giggle.  "But that wasn't a real memory, this is."

"What do you want?"  His mood was a horrible one, irritation was biting at his insides, snapping at him in much the same way he was snapping at Dawn.  And who should be at the root of that irritation?  None other than Willow, currently inside seeing Giles, and ignoring Spike.  Whatever was wrong with her, it wasn't going to be fixed by a fantastic sex session spurred on by panic and desperation.

The sex hadn't hurt though.

Dawn sighed from beside him, drawing his attention back to Her Royal Annoyingness.  "I wanted to apologize."  She looked down at the aged concrete walkway, kicking at a pile of cigarette butts.  "You saved us tonight.  Again.  And I realized that I've been an unfair brat."

"You?" he teased, chuckling at her rolled eyes.  She did that so well, mastered it really.

"Shut up," she laughed, then turned serious again.  "Who you love is your business, not mine.  Not Xander's, not Buffy's... although--"

"And you were doing so well," Spike told her, pushing away from the wall to light the cigarette he'd finally dug out of his shirt pocket.  The shirt was a little the worse for wear, since Willow had ripped it off of herself, but as long as he kept it tucked in, and didn't move a lot, he wouldn't be mistaken for a stripper.

"I know."  Her head lowered, her foot kicking out again.  "I just wish that you and Buffy were--"  The doors around the corner swished open, and Dawn paused, waiting until the lone man hobbling by was out of earshot.  "Well, you know what I wish."

"Yeah," he muttered, "I know what you wish.  I know what Buffy wishes, I know what every damn person in this town wishes except Willow."  Drawing smoke into his lungs should've calmed him down, but at this point, he was so wound up, he didn't think anything but a tranquilizer dart would work.

Dawn's forehead wrinkled up in confusion.  "What do you mean?  Doesn't Willow want you?"

Spike chuckled at the naive question, and forced himself to sit on the ground against the brick wall before he really did wear a hole in the sidewalk.  "She wants me, but not in the way I mean."  Raising his knees, he rested his forearms on them, and let his hands hang free.  "One minute, I'm thinking I've got it made, a life with Willow, you know, it's not so bad.  In fact, it's kind of... appealing.  Like her.  She's..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"She's what?" Dawn asked, sitting beside him with her legs straight out in front of her.  She folded her hands together and rested her chin on the tips of her fingers, resembling nothing more than a psychiatrist.  "Hmm, pretty?  That's a given.  Smart?  Also a given.  And really sweet, the best friend a mystical ball of light could have."

"Well, yeah, she's all that," he said, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture, choosing to ignore the dig she'd gotten in about her origins.  He was sure he wasn't the only one sick of listening to her complain about it, and secretly thought she used it for sympathy.  "But she's a lot more than that.  She cares, way more than she should sometimes, for people and... and demons. Cares for them-- for me," he admitted, rolling his eyes at himself.  He felt like a nancy-boy.  He sighed, giving in to the feelings inside him.  "She cares for me," he repeated, his voice stronger, more sure.  "And her blood, God, it's like--" he paused, sighing again, "unbelievably rich.  Everything a vampire craves is right there in her blood.  But I think it's the feelings that make it that way, rather than just her blood--" he stopped, realizing Dawn wasn't even listening anymore, her ears were covered by her hands.

When he stopped talking, she lowered her hands, raising an eyebrow at him.  Her mouth, so much like Buffy's, twisted in disgust, also like Buffy's.  "Spike," she said pleasantly, "do you have any idea just how disgusting that is?  With the ew-factor being really high?"  She stuck her tongue out as if she'd just eaten something sour.

He smiled, shrugging.  Dawn didn't get it, but he did.  He was pretty sure he wasn't just angry because Willow was mad at him for some unknown reason.  He could say with almost absolutely surety that... he loved Willow.  A frown was his response to that thought as he remembered the situation, and the way things now stood.  For reasons he couldn't grasp.

"All right, I'll spare your delicate ears," he conceded.  "Earlier tonight, at her house, I was thinking life wouldn't be so horrible with her around for a few centuries.  Would be rather pleasant in fact.  Now, though, I know better."

"Okay," Dawn said slowly, shrugging with her hands.  "Maybe... maybe you could tell me what the heck you're talking about, 'cause, I'm pretty clueless at the moment."

"Willow," he sighed, drawing smoke into his lungs almost desperately.  "And Buffy.  I still love her, no matter how much I try not to.  It's currently without all the scary stalker-type qualities everyone was so fond of, but it's still there."  He leaned his head back, purposely banging it slightly.  A little pain always helped clear the mind.  "It's still there, and I think Willow knows it."

Dawn leaned against his arm, offering him comfort without encroaching on his personal space too much.  Instead of flinching away like he wanted to, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around her, smoothing his hand down her hair, playing with the end of it.  It was so silky smooth and soft.  He had a thing about hair, he knew this.  He dropped her hair guiltily when she sighed and patted his leg comfortingly.

"You love her, don't you?" she said quietly.  She shifted against him, drawing in her legs.  "Geez, Spike, who next?  Anya?"  She giggled when he tightened his arm threateningly.  "Sorry.  I'm kidding.  But, wow, you're like the Elizabeth Taylor of vampires."

He burst out laughing, not at all offended.  He should be, but at the moment, he just couldn't find it in him.  "What do you know about Liz?" he asked in amusement.  "She's a whole two or three generations out of your time."

She pushed away, staring at him incredulously.  "Liz?" she repeated, her mouth open in a circle of awe.  "You know Elizabeth Taylor?"

He shrugged, not wanting to burst her bubble.  "It was a long time ago."  Waving his hand, dismissing her hero-worship while secretly basking in it, he sat back, moving her back as well.  "I don't talk about it a lot.  How do you know of her?"

"I'm... not exactly sure," she admitted slowly, confusion marring her brow.  "Maybe the monks were fans.  Certainly wasn't me."

He shook his head with a chuckle.  "Why do you do that?  You're real now, just accept it."

"I accept it," she told him, shrugging carelessly.  "But it's fun making other people freak about it."

Spike frowned at her.  All this time, he'd thought she was just a whiner, now he was finally figuring it out.  She was a manipulator as well.  "Hey, don't take out your being here, on others."

"You mean the way you don't take out having the implant on others?" she asked hotly.  Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and stared off into the night, shifting a few inches away from him.  "You're in love with my sister, and her best friend.  I don't think you're a good candidate for doling out advice."

Spike climbed to his feet, and stared down at her furiously.  "Go back inside, Dawn."

"No," she tossed back, glaring up at him, "I don't have to."

He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to hurt her, or someone else nearby.  After fighting the urge for a few seconds, he spun away, his boots scuffing loudly on the concrete.  "All right," he said angrily, "conversation over.  I'll not have some teenage bint passing judgment on my love life."  Looking over his shoulder at her, he saw her eyes narrow and her mouth tighten into a thin line.  Oh yeah, the monks had definitely modeled her after Buffy.

Dawn jumped to her feet, glaring at him.  "Yeah?  Well, how about I tell Willow all about the fluffy feelings you're still harboring for my sister?" she asked spitefully.

Spike slowly turned around to face her, furious with the little twit.  "Stay out of it, Dawn, it's none of your business.  How many people have to tell you that before you finally get it?"

"How many people have to tell you to stay out of our lives before you do that?" she ground out, fisting her own hands by her sides.  "Nobody wants you here, Spike.  I'm the only champion you have, and you just took care of that."

"Champion," he repeated.  "Dawn, the only thing you've done recently is bitch and moan."  He really had no patience to deal with her at the moment.  "Go inside."

"I said, I don't have to--" she screamed when he spun toward her, vamped out and snarling at her, their faces inches apart.  "I am so telling Willow about Buffy," she hissed, running around the corner and back into the hospital.

Spike chuckled, letting his face morph back.  Stupid twit.  Taking a drag off his cigarette, he leaned against the wall, sighing.

~~~*~~~

Willow stepped back as Dawn ran through the entrance of the hospital.  Keeping hidden behind a palm tree was easy enough since most of Dawn's attention was on herself and her pouting.  Willow's own mind was on what she'd heard Spike say.

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her?  Well, he didn't find it a horrible prospect at least.  Had even looked forward to it.  Wow.

But he still loved Buffy.  He'd out and out admitted it to Dawn.  But he wanted to spend his life with her, with Willow.  Okay, he sort of had to, with her being bound to him, but... he didn't mind.  And he hadn't mentioned wanting to spend his life with Buffy.  Or Drusilla.  But mostly she was yay-ing over the part where he wanted to spend his life with her very own rich-blooded self.

And that it bothered him that she knew he was still in love with Buffy.

That meant... nothing that she could figure out.  That he cared if she was hurting?  But, how would he know she was hurting unless he knew she cared about him?

Well, duh, of course he knew she cared about him, he'd even said so, and it really wasn't like her to sleep with just anybody.  He had to know that.

"Round and round you go..." she whispered, taking a deep breath and turning the corner to face Spike.

He spun around as soon as she stepped into sight, almost as if he knew she was there.  Bond, or vampire thing?  Did he know she'd been standing there listening since she'd exited the hospital with the limping old man?  Nah, he wouldn't have admitted any of that stuff if he'd known.

No way.

Willow stopped a few yards away, not sure what to say.  Maybe start with a neutral topic, and something uninteresting to him.  "Um, Giles is... fine.  I mean, obviously he's not fine," she amended, "but, he'll recover.  He'll be out of commission for a while though."

Spike nodded, planting his cigarette between his lips.

Willow nodded a few times as well, still at a loss as to what to say.  She drew in a deep slow breath, just for something to do while he stared at her, then let it out in a rush, her shoulders dropping their overly-stiff posture.  Before she knew it, she was speaking.  She could've slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she was saying, but it was too late.  "You're still in love with her."

He watched the fading taillights of a car as it left the parking lot and headed out into the traffic of the street.  "A little," he agreed, clearly reluctant to acknowledge more.

"It's more than a little."  She stopped in front of him, coughing lightly from the smoke in the air.  "I saw the way you-- never mind."  She was being brave, laying everything out on the line like this, due to exhaustion and spent worry, but she didn't think she was brave enough to tackle the Spike and Buffy kiss yet, or, more importantly, the Spike-looking-at-Buffy-while-he-told-Willow-he-wanted-her thing.  Not here in front of the hospital.

So she was giving him an out.  If he wanted to take it, he could and she would move on without letting him know how much she-- loved him.  Oh God.

She swallowed a little desperately, feeling like she was drowning.  "Um, this-- this thing between you and me, maybe it's not real.  Maybe... maybe it's the bond."  His eyes narrowed at her, but he didn't deny it.  "So, we should just stop," she finished quietly.

He didn't say anything, or look too broken up about it, so she nodded and started off in the general direction of her house, expecting him to follow.  When he didn't, she turned around with a questioning look.

"I'm sort of tired, and my house..." she shrugged, dropping her eyes to the ground as she once again started moving.  "I guess it's not quite five miles," she muttered.

"Confused isn't even on the same planet with me at the moment," she heard him mumble as he caught up.  He looked sideways at her, holding her gaze.  "I happen to think it is real, and that we should continue with it.  Often."  He winked at her with exaggerated lustfulness, forcing a smile from her.

This is exactly why she liked him so much.  He could make her smile with the smallest things.  At the oddest times.  But was it a healthy relationship?  One that would last when he still loved someone else?  She still loved Tara too, love didn't go away that quickly or easily, but she also didn't fool herself into thinking that she would choose Tara over Spike now.  She wouldn't.  Spike, on the other hand, very well might still choose Buffy over her.  And she couldn't stand that.

She stopped walking, facing him with determination, knowing that in order to break cleanly from him she would have to... break cleanly from him.  State it plainly.  "I don't want to."

He frowned in her direction, taking a drag off his cigarette.  "Don't want to what?" he asked in confusion.

"Um, continue this," she elaborated, shrugging and resuming her walk home.  She set her mouth in a firm, no nonsense line, her eyes straight ahead, so he would think she was telling the truth, 'cause, let's face it folks, she was lying like a cheap rug.  Rolling her eyes at herself, she sighed and tried to calm her racing heartbeat, a surefire way to tell she was lying if ever there was one.

Hopefully, he couldn't hear her quickened heartbeat or see her hands as she twisted them in front of her, because that was another sure way to tell she was lying.

He grabbed her upper arm, pulling her to a halt and forcing her to face him.  "Okay, I don't get it," he admitted, throwing his arms out from his sides helplessly.  "I just don't get it.  What happened?" he asked angrily.  "One minute, you're all smiles and sunshine, the next, you're--"  He stalked past her with a frustrated sigh, then stopped and turned back to face her.  "You know what?  I'm tired of trying to figure you out.  How about you tell me what's wrong for once, rather than making me do all the work?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at him for a few seconds before dropping her gaze to the curb.  She didn't want to tell him, because if she did, things were going to be said, things she couldn't take back.  Things, that if said, wouldn't allow her to face him anymore if he laughed in her face.  She looked up at him quickly, noting his scowl and uninvitingly angry eyes.  "Nothing's wrong--" she started to say, but he wouldn't let her get away with the lie.

"I don't believe that one bloody bit," he said unpleasantly.  His hands curled around her upper arms as he dragged her closer to him.  "Explain it to me, Willow," he ground out in a warning tone, "or so help me..."

"Okay," she said softly, defeated in the face of such anger.  She couldn't keep it from spilling out any longer, so, she told him.  She stepped back, waiting until he released her arms before beginning.  "I..." her voice came out in a whisper, so she cleared it and tried again.  "I care about you."  She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned down at the sidewalk.  "More than I ever-- more than I want to.  More than I ever imagined I could, you know?  You're... soulless, an evil vampire.  I'm a good-goody witch.  It's-- it's wrong," she said, shaking her head at herself.  "But that's how it is."  She paused, clearing her throat again, but her voice still sounded low to her.  "And I'm afraid."  Seeing his eyes widen slightly in surprise, she shook her head quickly.  "Not of you.  Of me and you, us.  The-- the getting hurt thing, 'cause let's face it, Spike, there's always hurt when feelings are involved.  And what if it's just the bond, or what if you don't get over Buffy?  I-- I couldn't stand it if that happened, because I'm already so deeply in... um, I care a lot," she backtracked oh-so suavely.  She was sure he didn't notice her little slip-up, nope, not at all.  Well, in for a penny...  "Actually, um, I probably could use... that word--love--to describe some of these feelings in me," she whispered, smiling crookedly at her awkward admission.

She was quite surprised that he was able to follow her ramble, and started to wonder if he actually had, because he was still staring at her.  Looking shocked.  Quite taken aback really.  He'd fallen silent way back in the beginning of her sad little rant, and now... his face was blank.

Was he happy? she wondered.  Or about to laugh at her?  Did he like that she loved him?  Was he annoyed?  Irritated?  Maybe he'd only wanted to know why she was angry, not have her declare her love for him, and now his face was all impassive and not giving anything away.

Mortified, she dropped her gaze to her hands and tried to move past him.  "Never mind.  I-- I just-- forget everything I said.  Pretend like..." but wait.  She couldn't just leave it like that.  She had to know.  Turning back around, she tilted her head to the side, taking in his expressionless face.  "You kissed her last night."

Finally he did something, made a move, gave her the smallest hint that he hadn't turned to stone in front of her eyes.

He sighed and tilted his head back in frustration, rubbing his hands across his face.  "Ya know, things used to be so much simpler when it was just me and Dru and our insatiable bloodlust."  Looking across the space between them, seeing her eyes narrow, he chuckled, shaking his head at himself.  "She kissed me.  And," he added, "she probably left out the part where I was the one who put a stop to it."

"She told me, even defended you, but she didn't see..." now it was her turn to sigh, because here was the other part she didn't want to discuss.  Not now, not here.  Maybe not ever.  Did she have to tell him?  Really, who said she had to tell him anything?  It was her decision and she chose no.  Indeed-y no.  But then she went ahead and started to anyway, because she was curious and he was standing there clueless.  "Do you even realize what you did?"  Looking at him closely, she shook her head, marveling at his obtuseness.  "You have no idea," she told him sadly.  How could he not know it would hurt her to see him staring so intensely at Buffy while saying such sweet words to her?

He shrugged in frustration, sighing heavily as he tossed her a frown.  "Here's a thought: Tell me!"

Her own frustration broke through and she huffed right back at him.  "You," she told him.  "That's what I'm talking about.  You and Buffy."  She darted her eyes away from him, afraid to see the pity and laughter that was sure to show up.  "You looking at Buffy while telling me just... ooo, I want you so much," she said snidely, her sarcasm level rather high at the moment.  "Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" she asked.

"I didn't-- I never did that," he protested, still looking confused and angry.  "When I said that to you, I meant it.  If I looked at Buffy at all, I didn't even notice it."  He moved closer, reaching up to touch her face, but pulled his hand back before touching her.  "You're the only one I want, Willow."

Her eyes dropped to his hand wistfully, wishing he'd touched her, reassured her by smoothing his hand down her cheek, across her brow, anything.  "At this moment, yeah, I believe that, but--"

"No," he disagreed, lifting his hand again, tracing his fingers along her cheek, "not just now.  I always want you.  It's--" he sighed, looking defeated.  "It's like this constant... ache that won't let me be, and I can't not want you.  Buffy has nothing to do with this anymore.  My feelings for her are... they're nothing compared to what I feel for you.  I lo--"

A snarl sounded behind him, interrupting what he'd been about to say.  Willow forced back a groan of frustration, looking over Spike's shoulder, her eyes widening as she spotted a Litchock.

"Spike!"  She grabbed his arm, yanking him out of the way.  A flash of red shot by them.  "Litchock," she mumbled, "it's a Litchock."

A tree across the street burst into flames.  The ball of magick incinerating it.

Willow's eyes widened even further in the light from the fire.  "Oh, we need to capture it," she whispered.  Hunkering down behind a car, she bit her lip, going through every spell she knew.  "If it's the one that created the bond, we can get it reversed.  We'll be free."

Spike stared at her incredulously, looking over his shoulder at the flaming tree.  "Capture it?" he said in disbelief.  "It's trying to kill us, maybe we should return the favor," he said harshly.

"But, no," she said softly.  "I don't want it to die just for that, 'cause that's just mean."  Shrugging at his raised eyebrow, she shifted her knees on her knees, wincing at every pebble and piece of gravel that poked at her.  "The bond," she whispered, chancing a quick look around the front end of the car.  She screamed, ducking back when another red ball soared toward her.  It crashed into a car across the street, incinerating it as well.  "Um, apparently we need to do something though."

"Stay here," he told her, jumping to his feet.  He dove over the hood of the car with a snarl.

She cringed as another ball went flying past.  This one a pretty blue.  "Dang it..." she muttered, looking around for something she might be able to use as a weapon.  There was nothing near.  A handful of pebbles in the street, a single rusty nail, and that was about it.  "Damn it."  Hunkering down as low as she could, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm herself.  Focusing solely on the Litchock, she said a quick protection spell, and then... "Discede!"

Silence didn't fall, there were still grunts and snarls coming from a few yards away, so she was pretty sure the teleportation spell didn't work.  Forcing herself to look, she dodged her head out to see what was happening, but ducked it back in again when she heard footsteps approaching her hiding spot.

Now silence descended.  With her heart beating in her chest, and her worry for Spike in the forefront of her mind, she started to get to her feet.

"Hey," she heard above her.

Stifling another undignified scream, she spun around, scraping her hands and knees on the gravel in the street.  "Ow," she complained, glaring at Spike.

He winced the tiniest bit, looking apologetic.  "Sorry."  Holding out his hand, he pulled her up beside him.  "Time to go, I think."

"What happened to the--" she stood on tiptoe, trying to see past him, but he stepped back in her way, turning her to face the other direction.  She heard a siren wailing in the distance.

"It got away," he told her, shrugging stiffly.  Taking her wrist, he pulled her quickly along behind him, not slowing his pace until they rounded the corner.  Once out of sight of the flames and approaching fire trucks, he paused, dropping her wrist to light a cigarette.

"Oh well," she enthused, not letting it get her down.  "We can always try again tomorrow night.  "I can try a locator spell..." she said absently, "and you can try not to smoke so much," she coughed, waving the smoke from her face.

"What do you care?" he asked, "you're going to--"

She stopped walking, staring at him wide-eyed when he turned to look back at her.  "What if I can still get sick and stuff?  What if I get cancer and have to live with it for centuries while it slowly eats away at me, killing me with every--"

He chuckled, shaking his head at her.  Sticking the cigarette between his lips, he reached back and grabbed her hand, pulling her along behind him again.  "You think too much."

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