Time Stitches You

Author: sinecure

Distribution: This site, and anyone else who wants it. Let me know first though, please. I like to visit my babies sometimes ;)

Author's Note: This is an unfinished story. A big story. And, it's slow going. I'm a big ole W/S 'shipper, and every one of my fanfics is just that; Willow and Spike.

Feedback: Duh.

Rating: I'm going to go with R.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~Part: 1~

Willow stared at Spike as if he'd asked her to marry him.  A second later, she reacted the way she would if he *had*.  She laughed.  A lot.

"Spike, you really expect me to do this?  Are you insane?"  She laughed even harder when he took a threatening step closer.  "You're chipped, you can't hurt me, which means you also can't force me to do this, or anything else."

His lips were pursed together in that oh-so-cute way, making his cheekbones even more prominent in his face.  But they weren't pursed in a pout, no, he was simply grinding his jaw in anger.  Something he'd had to do more often than not since the Initiative had gotten hold of him a few months back.  Unless he wanted a raging headache... or perhaps a brain fry.  Yep, he definitely had to keep his violent tendencies to a minimum, except when it came to other demons.

Willow almost felt sorry for him, but not enough to do what he was asking her.  There was no way she would purposely send him back in time to keep him from being chipped.  After all, the first thing he'd done after escaping was try to kill her.  No, she wouldn't willingly do it, and he couldn't force her *because* of the chip, therefore, she was safe from him.

But she hadn't counted on his determination.

His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, not enough to hurt her, just take her by surprise.  His gaze bored into hers as he pulled her closer to him, until she had to tilt her head back to look at him.  He was angry.  Very angry.  She was amazed at his control.

"I may not be able to physically force you to do it, pet," he ground out, "but I can force you."  He raised his voice, calling to someone she hadn't known was there.  "Pete!  Now would be good."

Willow glanced nervously around the dark, empty warehouse, her gaze settling on a figure striding toward them.  He was a tall, lithe, dark haired vampire with an evil air about him.  That was laughable.  What vampire didn't have an evil air about him?

Well, this one just seemed to have more than his fair share.

He looked like a serial killer, and he wasn't even vamped out yet.  As he approached though, his demon face slid into place, and he grinned at her, his bloodlust obvious.  He came up to her, and without ceremony, grabbed her from behind, holding her in place.  Willow glared at Spike, not actually believing he'd allow this to happen, but when she saw the smirk on his lips and the gleam of anticipation in his eyes, she knew just how wrong she'd been.

"Spike," she reasoned, "you really don't want to do this.  You can't just--"

"Bite her," Spike told Pete.  "Bite her hard."

Willow screamed as Pete's fangs sank into her neck, tearing at the tender flesh there.  Her gaze remained locked on Spike's as her blood was taken from her, even minutes later, as she sagged to the ground, her legs no longer wanting to support her.  Spike actually licked his lips as he watched Pete drink her blood.  She closed her eyes in despair, knowing that this time there would be no help for her.

~~~*~~~

Spike wanted so badly to rip Willow out of Pete's arms and drink her himself, but he didn't feel like dealing with the excruciating pain that would result.  So he watched instead, watched carefully.  Finally, he signaled Pete to stop, which Pete reluctantly did.  He dropped her to the ground like so much refuse and Spike growled at him.  Willow was the key to him getting the bloody chip out of his head, so if anything happened to her, his hopes were dead.  After all, how many true witches did he know?  One.  Well, except for the blonde one... but she wasn't as powerful, or as fun to play with as Willow was.  She'd probably pass out and be no good to him whatsoever.

He picked Willow up and carried her over to a filthy mattress a few feet away and laid her on it, then stood back, watching her.  Completely ignored was the fact that she was in the same state he'd just ridiculed her girlfriend for potentially being in.
Pete followed him over and stood beside him.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sneered at Spike.  "She's pure.  Purest I've ever tasted."

Spike barely held his temper in check at the contempt he saw in the younger vampire's face.  Just as he was about to rip Pete's heart out of his chest, he realized the contempt was directed at Willow, not him.  He sighed, forcing himself to calm down.  Now was not the time to fly off the handle.  As much as it pained him to admit it, he needed Pete.

A small sigh from the makeshift bed drew Spike's attention and he knelt down, waiting for Willow to completely wake up.

~~~*~~~

Willow opened her eyes slowly, feeling oddly lethargic.  She yelped in surprise and scrambled back when she saw Spike's face inches from her own.  "God, Spike.  You know, giving me a heart attack will ruin all your wonderful little plans."  She rolled her eyes when he chuckled.  It was pretty obvious he was enjoying her moment of fear and panic.

She sat up, her hand moving to her neck as he paced a few feet away.  Her neck hurt like hell, and it was sticky with blood.  The blood was running down her neck and into her shirt and bra.  She mopped at it with her shirt, but it continued to run down.  She stopped when she noticed both men watching her with amber eyes, demon faces firmly in place.  She swallowed hard and put her hands demurely in her lap, wishing herself anywhere but there.

"I can take care of that," Pete growled, kneeling down in front of her.  Whether he was intending to lick at the blood or bite her again, Willow didn't know, nor did she want to find out, so she was actually grateful for Spike's violence when he grabbed the dark haired vampire by the collar of his shirt and threw him across the room with a snarl.

"You'll touch her when I say, mate, not before," he spat at Pete, who was lying where Spike had thrown him, not making a move to get up.  Willow saw the fear on Pete's face and silently thanked God for it.

Spike strolled back over to where she cowered and pulled her roughly to her feet.  "Don't think I won't let him hurt you if I need to, Red."  He grinned wickedly and darted his head down, licking at her blood, from the top of her v-necked blouse, and back up to her neck.  Willow tried to pull away, more repulsed by Spike now than in the two years she'd known him, but he held her by her arms.  "You either let me do this, or I let him have another taste."  He tossed a look over his shoulder at Pete who was watching closely.

Spike leaned toward her conspiratorially and whispered, "I think he kinda likes you, his, uh, fangs, got enormous when he saw you."

Willow's gaze followed Spike's and she shivered.  "You're a pig, Spike," she snapped, but she allowed him to lick her neck, like the dog he was.

"Oh, come on," he scoffed, "like you and dog-boy didn't engage in a little naughty licking every once in a while."  She stiffened and tried to pull away, but again he wouldn't let her.  "For shame, Red, what would your girlfriend think about you still having warm and fuzzy feelings for the warm and fuzzy boy?  You know," he chuckled, "dog-boy probably sensed your penchant for girls and had to wonder why you were with him.  Probably why he left."

Willow glared at him, but said nothing.  She knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.  She raised an eyebrow at him and looked pointedly at his mouth.  His smirk slipped a bit as hers grew.  He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and looked at it, thinking he must have blood smeared on his mouth or something, but there was nothing.  Hearing Pete's sneering laughter, Spike raised his fist.  She closed her eyes in anticipation of the pain, and he halted the blow.  After a few seconds, when nothing happened, she opened her eyes in surprise.  As soon as she did, he backhanded her.

They both reared back in pain.  Willow recovered first, because the blow hadn't been full force.  Spike spun around, holding his head.

"Bloody hell!" he yelled in frustration.  A second later, the pain still pulsating through his brain, he turned back to Willow and grabbed her arm.  "This ends now.  You'll do the spell, or I'll kill your girl-toy, pain or not."  He shoved her down on the mattress and strode away.  "Watch her," he barked to Pete.  Just before he left the warehouse, he turned back.  "Keep your hands off of her unless she tries to escape.  But do not kill her."  He walked out the door, slamming it shut behind
him.

~~~*~~~

Spike snarled at the clerk in the magic shop as she wished him a good day, and left the cramped store.  His anger had lessened since leaving the warehouse, but he still felt like killing something.  He refrained only because he had things to do, spells to cast, time to travel, and a past to change.  He wished he didn't need the witch for the spell, it made things more complicated than they needed to be, but he did.

The spell called for a witch, preferably a witch who bore his bite.  He figured the more powerful the witch, the better tings would go, so, Willow it was.  And if she didn't cooperate, he'd have her girlfriend killed.  Never did like the blonde witch anyhow.

He unlocked the warehouse door and went inside, locking the door behind him.  As he approached, he knew something was wrong.   He smelled blood.  A lot of it.  He ran to the mattress, and knelt beside Willow.  She was alive, he could hear her heartbeat, still going strong, but she wasn't moving.  Her breathing was haggard, raspy.  He looked around quickly for Pete, then felt around with his senses.  Pete wasn't there.  Spike dropped the bag clutched tightly in his hand and reached out to Willow.

"Red.  Wake up," he ordered.  She didn't move when he touched her, or react in any way to his voice.  He touched her shoulder and rolled her toward him, cursing aloud when he saw the bruises forming on her face and neck.  Her right eye was almost completely swollen shut, bruises lined the whole left side of her face and neck, and there were two new bite marks on her neck.  One by her jaw on the left side, and another near her right shoulder.  Her sleeve was torn, and covered in blood.  Seeing his hope slipping away from him, he dropped her to the mattress and paced away, cursing.

"Damn it!  If you aren't already dead, Pete, I'll kill you myself.  Slowly."  He stalked back over to the mattress, kicking at a pile of dust in frustration.  He took three steps back the other way, kicked another pile of dust, then turned and paced back again.  It took him two more turns to realize he'd kicked two piles of dust.  Two.  Pete hadn't done this, or if he had, he'd had help.  Needing to know what the hell had happened, he stomped over to Willow and picked her up, settling her on his lap.

"Willow.  Wake up."  He slapped lightly on the only non-bruised portion of her face.  "Come on, damn it.  Wake the hell up."

She stirred a bit and moaned.  Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to scramble away from him.  He held her tight, not letting her move.  "What happened?" he snapped.  "God damn it, why is it that everything I do gets screwed up?  Usually by you and your damn friends.  Well, not this time.  This time *I* get what I want, not you.  Got it?"

She nodded fearfully, shrinking away from his anger.  He forced himself to calm down, and allowed his face to slip back to its human visage.

Calmer now, he tried again.  "So, what the hell happened?"

She swallowed and licked her lips, wincing when her tongue ran over the broken flesh.  Her face clouded over, but her voice was strong when she spoke.  "Three vampires snuck in and tried to take me with them.  Your buddy killed them all, but not before, one of them grabbed him and held him down while the other two bit me."  Her swollen mouth twisted bitterly, and she turned her accusing glare on him.  She pushed against his chest, and he let her.  He set her on the mattress and stood up, needing to get away from the intoxicating smell of her blood.

Willow sat there, her face battered and bruised, her legs pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her eyes shooting daggers at him, and Spike felt a twinge of guilt.  A small twinge.

"And then?" he asked impatiently.

She looked at him silently for a minute.  "I hold you responsible for this, and at the first opportunity, I plan on killing you."

There was no guilt this time.  "Little tip for you, Red, don't give your enemy anything except your hatred, and especially not a warning."

She just glared at him, her good eye boring into his with a hatred he wasn't used to seeing anymore.  "That's more like it," he enthused.  "Did they rape you?"  He sounded cold, uninterested, but inside, he was seething.  How dare they do this to his property?  And she *was* his property.  The whole idea behind having Pete bite her was for him to be able to unknowingly bite her under the pretext of licking the blood left behind by Pete.  Though he had thoroughly enjoyed that part as well.  The little witch had damn tasty blood.  Witch's blood, shot through with magick and purity.  Not pure with virginity, but with goodness.

Her eyes narrowed at him.  "No," she shot back, "they didn't.  They tried, but your boy wonder got free and killed them."

"So where's Pete then?"  His own eyes narrowed when she looked away before answering.  She was lying, or at the very least, embellishing the truth.

"He and the last vampire staked each other."

Spike watched her for a second, debating on whether or not to pursue the truth.  He decided against it for now.  "Good, then we won't have any interruptions during the spell.  Come here."  His voice brooked no argument, and she was in no condition to disobey him.  She stood shakily and went to him, but she was by no means subservient.  She swung her arm back and slapped him.  He saw it coming, but he didn't stop her, he let his eyes show his displeasure.

She didn't shrink back as he'd expected her to do.  She straightened her shoulders, barely wincing at the pain it caused, and waited.  He was pleased.  She knew who was in charge here, but she wasn't whimpering and cringing from him.  Well, not too much, and that showed strength.  He'd definitely made a good choice going with her rather than her girlfriend.  He nodded his head toward the bag on the floor.  She sat down again on the mattress, and opened the bag, pulling out each item one at a time.

"Candles.  Sea salt."  Her face seemed to light up the tiniest bit with each item.  Magick, apparently, was something she greatly enjoyed.

He pulled out the folded up page he'd torn from one of Giles' spell books and tossed it at her, then leaned against the wall to smoke a cigarette.

When the bag was empty, she unfolded the spell and read it over, looked through the bag again, then turned her eyes his way.  "Where's the personal item?"

He snapped his lighter shut with an echoing click, looking at her blankly.

She sighed, pointing to the bottom of the page and holding it out for him to see.  He squinted at the tiny writing, but couldn't read it from where he stood.

She sighed again and rolled her eyes.  "Didn't you even read through the spell?  It's pretty difficult... I might not even be able to do it--" hearing his growl, she quickly added, "but I'll try."

Mollified for the time being, he nodded, waiting for her to continue.  "And?"

"Um, difficult spells call for a personal item, something that belongs to you.  Usually a piece of jewelry is used, something personal to that person, but it can actually be anything.  It just has to have belonged to you since you're the one going."

He took a deep drag off his cigarette, shaking his head casually.  "Wrong, Red.  You're coming too.  See, I actually intend to come back, and since I need your blood to do the spell in the first place, I'm pretty sure I need it to get back as well.  It's key."  He watched her closely, relishing her reaction.  She didn't disappoint.

"What?  No.  I-- I can't.  I have school," she reasoned.  "And, Tara... and, um, no, 'cause see, I can't go... it just wouldn't be a good thing."  She jumped up, pacing back and forth between him and the mattress.

He inhaled deeply every time she passed him, the smell of blood growing tantalizingly closer with each step.  She went on and on, trying to convince him not to take her with him.  He remained silent.  He wasn't even listening at this point.  His control snapped when she swung by him a third time.  He tossed his cigarette to the floor and grabbed her arm.  A gentle tug on her wrist brought her to him and he ripped the sleeve of her blouse off.  She screamed, yanking on her arm, trying to pull away, but he wouldn't let her.  Not when he was this close to tasting her again.  Her eyes widened when he lifted her arm and licked a trail to her shoulder.  His own eyes closed in ecstasy.

"Heaven," he mumbled.  His mind was whispering to him, telling him to sink his teeth into her neck and end her life, to  bathe in her blood, but his rational side fought it.  He had no desire to lay on the ground for the rest of the night, screaming in pain.  Once the immediate blood lust was satisfied, he looked at Willow.  Her face was blank, her eyes fixed on a point over his shoulder somewhere.  She was ignoring him.  He chuckled darkly and raked his teeth over her shoulder.

"Ignore me all you want, you're still going.  Draw the circle, and light the candles.  I'll figure out something to use for the item."  He stalked away from her.

~~~*~~~

Twenty minutes later, everything was set up and ready.  They sat inside a circle of sea salt with four candles placed just inside the circle, marking the four directions, ready to be lit.  The personal item was dangling from his left hand, and woven between the fingers of Willow's right hand.  After she recited the spell, they would grasp hands, holding the necklace between them.  Their other hands were also to be clasped, but for now she was avoiding touching him whenever possible.

She raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking if he was ready.  He gave her a 'what do you think?' look.  She took a deep, steadying breath, lit the candle representing north, and started to recite the incantation.  Spike only listened with half an ear, his thoughts were on the gold chain dangling from their hands.  He didn't used to be a necklace person, but Dru had given it to him the night before the mob attacked them in Prague.  After rolling his eyes at her offered present, he'd stuffed it into his duster pocket and forgotten about it.  He was touched, but made a mental note to lose it after only wearing it long enough to show Dru his appreciation.

The next night he almost lost her.  She was broken and bleeding.  Dying as he watched.  His panic had never reached such heights as it did that night, and the days following.  After carrying her to safety and forcing his way into a merchant's house, he'd laid her gently on the bed and killed the couple for her.  Fed her like she'd later do for him while he was in the wheelchair.

She'd smiled, so beautifully, always so beautifully, and kissed him softly.  Her hand slid down his neck to touch his chest, and, finding it empty her big brown eyes swam with tears, and her lip trembled.

Spike immediately took the necklace out and put it on, ignoring the blood still covering his hands, and her mouth.  Her smile came back, wider than ever, and she kissed him deeply, whispering her thanks.

He'd worn it ever since.  It was a part of him, almost as much as Dru was.

In Brazil, she'd ripped it off of his neck and thrown it at him, along with a few of her china dolls.  Thrown them at him as she screamed and yelled.  Something else was in his mind, she said, something besides her.  He tried to assure her that she was the only important thing on his mind, but she'd shaken her head sadly, refusing to see the truth in his eyes, refusing to allow his love for her to warm them both.

Spike ground his teeth together.

Well, tonight he had the chance of getting Dru back.  He'd get this thing out of his head, and she'd see he was just as evil as he'd always been.

She'd take him back.

Willow's warm hand interlaced with his, jerking him out of his reverie.  He looked around him.  The candles were all lit now, the circle of sea salt was shimmering slightly, and Willow was glowing as she recited the spell.  He watched her sweat-slicked face, listened to her smooth, whispered tones, took note of her rapidly rising chest.  Her eyes were closed in concentration, but she seemed to sense his gaze because she squeezed his hand warningly.

He sighed, and tried to concentrate on the day he'd been highjacked by the Initiative.  Willow had informed him of the importance of concentration as she poured the circle, noting that if he didn't concentrate all his energies on the right time then it was possible they'd travel to the wrong one, and since she didn't fancy traveling all over the map at different times with a  vampire, then he should get it right the first time.  Plus, once they got there, if they didn't change what he wanted to change, they wouldn't have another chance.  It was impossible to travel more than once to a certain time period.  Otherwise, what was to stop someone from going back and changing the past numerous times to achieve their own goals?  This was a one-shot deal and he didn't want to screw it up.

Her other hand intertwined with his as she chanted, and he felt energy flow into him from their joined hands.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blue light shoot out from Willow's body and encircle them.  She was sweating heavily and shaking in exhaustion when her head suddenly shot back and her eyes whipped open.  She fixed her now alien gaze on him and exhaled.  A bright white light left her mouth and shot out in all directions, and then it went dark.

~Part: 2~

Willow opened her eyes, only to be greeted by darkness.  She knew the spell had worked, she'd felt it go through her and envelope Spike before collapsing.  What she didn't know, was where they were.  Shifting a tiny bit, she felt something itchy underneath her, and tried to move, but something heavy held her in place.  Panic was very near the surface, and in fact was forcing her to shove blindly at the weight.

A deep voice next to her ear whispered at her harshly.  "Hold still, damn it.  I'll move when it's safe."

She opened her mouth to tell Spike she couldn't breathe, but he put his hand over the lower half of her face, practically smothering her in his attempt to keep her quiet.  Extremely uncomfortable in the position she was in, she groaned and let her head drop to the ground.  Wriggling to the left, she found, was no better than before, so she scooted to the right.  Something sharp poked into her back tearing through the flesh by her hip.  It forced a scream from her which was muffled by his hand.  She bit it, hard, clamping her teeth onto the fleshy part of his palm, trying to hold in another scream.

Spike, at the feel of her teeth on his hand, groaned silently.  The little witch was driving him insane.  All that damn wiggling underneath him had made him very aware of the soft female flesh underneath his.  And now she was biting him.

Vampire foreplay.

He glared down at her in the gloom of the stable, but stopped the angry retort on his lips when he saw the tears in her eyes and the pain on her face.  Okay, so, apparently something was wrong with her.

He lifted himself up the smallest bit and saw the immediate relief on her face.  Her mouth let go of his hand, and she begged him with her eyes to remove all of his weight.  He did so, with a quick glance around to assure him they were alone now.

He rolled off of her and sat up, looking around the stable.  They were in a stall, filled with fresh straw and thankfully no horse.  Since no sunlight was poking through the numerous gaps and chinks in the wooden structure, he knew it was night.  The two men who'd come in just after he and Willow dropped in, had finally left.

He'd been aware the whole trip, but he hadn't seen anything except the bright white light from Willow's mouth, then darkness, an almost interminable darkness.  Finally, the light returned and he was staring at a straw strewn stable as they dropped to the ground.

The building was empty of man and animal at the moment, which meant now was a good time to leave.  Standing up, he reached his hand down to help Willow to her feet, but she didn't take it.  He glanced down at her.

She was in the middle of the stable, lying atop a blanket of clean straw, gasping, and trying desperately to catch her breath.

"My back," she rasped out, trying to roll over to show him, but she wasn't able to move enough.

He knelt down and looked her over, sucking in a breath when he saw the long piece of metal protruding from her back.  Hell, she better not die, he needed her to get back.  He knew his anger would only scare her, so he kept his tone light.

"Bloody hell, pet, you'd do anything to get out of this, wouldn't you?"  She didn't respond.  Her eyes were closed, and her breathing even... she was unconscious.  He reached underneath the straw and grabbed the offending weapon, sliding it quickly out of her back.  He threw the pitchfork out of the stall, and bent down to pick her up.  Her new three inch deep wound bled down his arm and he was reminded of just how much of the stuff she'd lost tonight.  He was amazed she wasn't knocking on death's door for tea and crumpets.

She whimpered slightly when he cradled her closer and stalked out of the stable, his boots crunching on the straw littering the filthy floor.

He nearly dropped her when he got his first good look at his surroundings.  "Bloody hell," he mumbled, as a horse drawn carriage passed in front of him.  "Where the hell are we?"

~~~*~~~

Spike glared at the bed again, placing all blame for this on the redhead's shoulders.  She had brought them here.

To bloody Ireland.  To the bloody year seventeen fifty-three.  It was all her bloody fault!

He took another drag off his cigarette, reminding himself to enjoy it, since it was one of his last pre-rolled, good-tasting ones for who knew how long.  He kicked his foot out petulantly, knocking over a small night table next to the bed, then continued on his way to the other side of the room.  He'd been pacing for a good ten minutes now, waiting for Willow to wake up, and he was growing more impatient by the second.  She'd been out for over an hour, mumbling in her sleep, calling out for the blonde witch.  After the third time, he'd cruelly informed her that the witch was dead, just to get her to shut up.

There wasn't a whole lot to do while he waited, except smoke and pace.  He'd cleaned her wound as soon as he'd gotten her up to their room, and bandaged it as well.  There wasn't much he could do about the bruises and swelling on her face though.  But, they seemed to be healing pretty darn quickly on their own, already they were fading, faster than a vampire heals.  Had to be a side effect of the spell.

The inn keeper had blanched at the sight of the passed out girl in Spike's arms when he strode up to the desk, demanding a room.  The fat-ass had seen her bruised and bloodied face, the bites on her neck and their odd clothing, but hadn't said anything.  Spike was glad for that, they didn't need any trouble while they were here.  And yet, when he didn't say anything, just cowered behind his safe little desk, Spike felt anger consume him on Willow's behalf.  For all this guy knew, Spike was going to kill her, or already had.

Spike kicked the table again, letting his gaze drift over to the small figure huddled under the covers on the bed.  He drew in a breath upon smelling the blood practically permeating the room.  He needed to get the hell out of there and feed.

He shuddered uncharacteristically at the thought of finding a pig or something to drink from.

Willow moaned and opened her eyes.  Finally, Spike thought, stalking back over to the bed and sitting down.  He waited for her to take in their surroundings before speaking.  She looked at the wooden walls, the old furnishings, the lack of any electricity or plumbing, and the polished silver that was used as a mirror.

He nodded.  "Guess what, Witch.  This isn't nineteen ninety-nine.  Wanna take a wild guess as to when it is?"  She shook her head, frightened at the anger in his voice.  "Try seventeen fifty-three."

"How?" she asked, her voice sounding tiny.

"You bloody well tell me, pet.  You're the one who had the power to take us where we needed to go.  Just had to get a gander at the human Angel, didn't you?  What is it with women and the wanker?  Is it the brooding?  The dark puppy dog eyes?  'Cause I gotta tell you, I don't see it.  He's a killer, same as me, same as every other vampire out there."  He flung his arm toward the shuttered window angrily.  "And yet, all you women are drawn to him like a bloody moth to a bloody flame!"

He stalked away from the bed, pissed at the world, pissed at the girl, but most of all, pissed at Angel.  All of Spike's vampire life had been overshadowed by Angelus.  He had Darla, he had Dru, he had every bloody thing first.  Not that he wanted the stuck-up blonde bitch, but if he had wanted her, he wouldn't have had a chance in hell.  If Spike even thought about taking someone or something for himself, Angelus had to get there first.  And now, because of the poofter and his, 'oh pity me' crap, Spike was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the human version of Dru's sire out there.

Willow sat up slowly, hissing in pain only for a second.  Most of the pain was gone.  She watched as Spike paced back and forth in front of the large bed, his face going through a myriad of emotions, most prominent being jealousy.  Must be hard for him, she thought, to be in this time and place, so close to the vampire he hated more than any other.  No, not vampire.  Right  now, Liam was a man.  Human.  She bit her lip as curiosity shot through her.

He was right about one thing; she was curious to see the human Angel, but not because of any feelings she had for him.  It was just morbid fascination.  She hadn't ever harbored any kind of romantic feelings for the brooding vampire, even though he was gorgeous.  Buffy herself had been rather skeptical when Willow told her she wasn't actively attracted to him, just passively appreciative.

Spike stopped pacing, and sat back down on the bed.  She shrugged at him, causing the blanket to fall to her lap.  Feeling cold air on her previously fully clothed shoulders, she looked down in dread.  "You undressed me?" she yelped, yanking the blanket back up to her shoulders.  "What gave you the right to do anything to me while I was unconscious?  God, did you feed off of me again too?"  She peeked under the covers, thanking God that he hadn't completely stripped her.

Spike raised an eyebrow at her.  "Would you prefer I left your wound untended.  I'm sure you wouldn't have gotten too badly infected from the stable floor, or the pitchfork I pulled out of your back."  He glared down at her, unable to believe her modesty  meant more to her than her health.  "Penicillin's a long way off, love, and I can't afford to lose you."

"Aw, I didn't know you cared," she bit out, then sighed.  This wouldn't get them anywhere.  They needed to work together to get this mess cleared up, and fix things, and if they were constantly at each other's throats, they wouldn't get anything accomplished.  "Look, we're both stuck here.  I don't know how or why, but we are, so... thank you.  For bandaging my back and stuff."  She smiled at him, asking for a truce.  He just stared back at her.  "And," she added, "I have no real desire to see Angel as a human.  A little morbid curiosity perhaps, but not a burning need.  He's a friend, that's all, I've never been attracted to him.  Hello.  Buffy's boyfriend, also..." she hooked a thumb at her chest, "gay."

Spike accepted her answer, and her truce with a silent nod.   Then his lips turned up slightly and he chuckled.  "Gotta admit, I'm rather curious to see him as well.  See if he was as much of a wanker human as he is now."

"You don't know what he was like as a human?"  She frowned in confusion.  "But, you spent years with him and Darla.  Didn't he ever mention his life as a human?"

"Little snippets.  I know he was a worthless drunk, but that's about it.  Angelus wasn't deep into the details when it came to his human counterpart.  I think he was as embarrassed as--" he stopped short, looking away.

"As embarrassed as what?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing," he told her, and that was the end of that.  He wasn't going to elaborate.

"Oh."  She was still curious, but mostly she was grateful that he'd agreed not to drag this out any longer than need be.  She looked at his profile, admiring his almost Grecian looks.  Now, seeing William the Bloody was a different matter entirely.  She wouldn't mind taking a peek or two at the human Spike; she was extremely curious about him.  Angel had a soul, so she knew what he was like with one, but what about Spike?

Nope, she wouldn't mind seeing him at all.

Spike stood up suddenly, startling her.  She jumped slightly, jarring her back, but there was none of the expected pain.  She turned to look behind her at the wound, but couldn't quite see it, so she reached behind her.  Her hand grazed the soft cloth covering the hole in her back and she lifted up one edge.  There was still no pain.  Brow furrowed, she pulled the cloth off and dropped it to the bed.

"What are you doing?"

She tossed him a look over her shoulder, having forgotten him in her struggle to see the wound.  His eyes were glowing yellow and were fixed on her neck.  She only spared him a quick glance before kneeling on the bed and turning her back toward him, holding the sheet to her chest.  "Is there even anything there?  There's no pain."

Spike's eyes roamed over her nearly naked back.  "No," he ground out.  "There's nothing there except blood."  He didn't sound at all interested in the mystery of her missing wound, he just growled and stalked as far away from her as he could get without leaving the room.  And then he did leave.  "I've gotta eat," he said curtly, slamming the door behind him.

Willow sat down in the middle of the bed, the sheet still clutched to her chest, and stared after him in confusion.  "Well," she said lamely, "was it something I said?"

~Part: 3~

Spike walked unhurriedly through the city streets, his boots ringing loudly on the cobblestones.  His immediate need to feed had left when he'd fled their room and the aroma of fresh blood.  He was currently searching for a suitable meal with his vampiric senses, while his mind wandered, occupied by an idea that had been forming ever since he'd asked the inn keeper where and when they were.  He'd tried shoving the thought away, but it refused to be relegated to the back of his mind.

His need and love for her were still too strong.

To be able to see Drusilla before she was made, before Angelus drove her insane, while she was still warm and innocent, was something he'd dreamed of too many times to count.  And now he had the chance.  All he had to do was convince the witch.  Not because he needed her permission, but she'd had a point when she said they should work together.  He figured if he included her in decisions and plans, then she'd be less likely to bitch and gripe.

His head snapped up, his eyes glowing in the darkness.  An evil grin graced his lips for a moment before turning down into a scowl.

Bloody hell!

Of all the vampires in town that he could feed off of it had to be her.  He turned down the alley directly in front of him and stood in the shadows, watching her drain a dark haired man.

Angelus, he thought, before realizing the victim wasn't him.  Darla dropped the man at her feet and delicately wiped the corners of her mouth before sauntering further into the alley.  Spike watched in fascination.  This was his great grandsire.  He could probably kill her right now.  Not that he would.  He'd be committing suicide if he did, but the thought itself was extremely exciting.

He moved forward quietly, intent on drinking whatever was left of the man, when he heard a gasp behind him.  He spun around, in full demon face, and watched as the woman--looked like a hooker--slid to the street, out cold.  He grimaced, knowing she'd seen him and his odd clothes.  She'd be able to identify him.  Bracing himself for an extreme amount of pain, he picked her up and held her to him, sinking his teeth into her neck.

A howl of elation echoed through the small town of Galway as a demon drank of his victim without pain, for the first time in months.

~~~*~~~

After Spike left the room, Willow climbed out of the huge bed and tried to examine her back in the barely reflective  surface of the mirror.  What she saw, or rather, didn't see, amazed her.  There was hardly anything there, except a small scar.  She examined her face and neck and found them barely bruised, and the swelling nearly gone.  She had three faint scars where she'd been bitten, but other than that, she was practically healed, and she felt great too, just tired.

She put on what was left of her shirt, which was balled up on the dresser.

Maybe she was, like, superwoman now, because of the spell.  Maybe it gave her extra healing powers, just in case she was injured.  A fail safe?  So that she could return unharmed?  Hmm, she thought, pretty nifty if she was right.

She shrugged, resolving to ask Spike about it when he returned.  On the other hand, maybe she shouldn't.  Did she really want Spike to know that she had extra healing powers, leaving him open to biting her whenever he wanted to?  Um, no.  Her, and her extra healing would remain a secret.

In the meantime, she set about examining their room.  Uh-oh.  Their room?  Was he going to sleep in the same room as her while they were here?  Which, hopefully, wouldn't be for too long.  As soon as she got some rest, she wanted to do the spell again, and hope like heck they ended up a lot closer to their intended target.  Spending quality time with Spike wasn't something she really wanted to do.

She glanced back at the bed, big reason number two for not staying long, number one being Spike killing her.  Well, it was certainly large enough to fit the two of them... and then some.  Still, she didn't exactly fancy lying in bed with a soulless demon all night, neutered or not.  She forced herself to move on to the rest of the room, ignoring all thoughts of a naked Spike.

There was a nightstand on either side of the bed-- oh, there's that damn bed again.  One of the nightstands was laying broken on the floor slightly away from the... sleeping furniture.   She rolled her eyes at herself.  After everything Spike had done to her, sex hadn't ever entered into it, forced or not.  So why was she so wigged about it now?

"Moving on," she mumbled.

There was a scarred, cherry wood wardrobe in the corner, the dresser with the mirror on it, and a wingback chair by the door that faced the bed.  Not much else graced the room aside from a few paintings on the walls.

She headed for the window, opening the shutters with ease just as a distant howl sounded, sobering her like nothing else could have except maybe a profusely bleeding neck wound.  She peered through the darkness, trying to see what, or who, it was, but all that was out there, were empty streets.  More frightened than she cared to admit, she closed the shutters tightly and climbed into bed.

Settling down on the slightly lumpy mattress was easier said than done.  She moved this way and that, rolled over a few times, then finally flopped on her back and pulled the covers up to her chin.  When something dropped to her face, she nearly screamed before she realized it was the bandage she'd pulled off her back.  She held the square of cloth in front of her face.  It was black cotton, and looked oddly familiar.  There was only a small bit of blood on it, not as much as there should have been from the wound she'd received, and a familiar smell.  She sniffed it before she'd even realized what she was doing.

     "Ew," she said, automatically, but it didn't smell like blood.  In fact, it smelled like-- Spike.  Of course.  It was part of his T-Shirt.  Duh.  He only wore the damn thing every day.  How could she have missed it?

"Um... you didn't expect a soulless vampire to rip up his own shirt to make a bandage for you?"  Said vampire burst into the room at that moment, a grin on his face and a bounce in his step.  Willow clutched the scrap of cloth in her hand and sat up in bed.  "Spike."

His grin widened.  "Willow."

She propped the pillows behind her back, and leaned against the headboard, watching him warily.  He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet a few times before dropping into the chair, running his hands through his hair.

"Um, did you hear that howl?" she asked, trying to ease a little of her discomfort.

"What howl?" he asked, eyes questioning.

She frowned.  "A few minutes ago.  Long, scary-type howling, fear-inducing howling?  How could you not have heard it with your vampiric senses and stuff?  Has the chip dulled your instincts?"

He smirked at her, and she had a feeling he was playing with her.  Uncomfortably, the thought came to her that he was acting not unlike a cat with a mouse would.  She shifted slightly.

He nodded.  "Oh, yeah, that howl.  Sure, I heard it."

She waited for an explanation, but he remained silent.  She sighed loudly.  "What was it?"

He shrugged, and got up.  "Me."

Surely she hadn't heard him right.  He'd been the howler?  "You?  Why you?  What happened?  Did someone attack you?"  She sat up anxiously.

He picked up the ewer on the dresser and poured water into the matching ceramic bowl, then stripped off his shirt.  When he turned slightly to toss his shirt on the chair, Willow caught a glimpse of his pale, muscular chest, nice and lean and inviting to the touch.  She looked quickly away, telling herself she'd only looked to make sure he wasn't hurt.

"Spike?"

"Hmm?" he asked, splashing his face with the water from the bowl.  He stared into the mirror at her.  She dared another look at him, crinkling her nose at the eerie feeling of being watched by a non-reflecting being.

"Why were you howling?"

He shrugged again.  "No reason."

She blinked at him.  "Do vampires often howl for no reason in particular?  I-- I mean, um... well, do they?"

He chuckled.  "No."

Well, obviously he didn't want to explain his reasoning to her, and that was just fine.  She harrumphed a few times as she  pulled the pillows out from behind her head and laid down, then fluffed them.  She rolled over on her side, scooted nearly to the edge of the bed, and closed her eyes.

Spike watched her, nearly laughing out loud from the angry noises she was making.  He blew out the oil lamps and sat down on the opposite edge of the bed from her, pulling off his boots.  His started to pull his pants off, then grinned, knowing she'd probably go into shock if she knew how close she'd come to sleeping with a naked vampire.

He stayed on his side of the bed, lacing his hands behind his head.  "You know," he said, "if you keep up all that noise over there, the neighbors will have no trouble believing we're on our honeymoon."

She gasped loudly and stiffened, and Spike couldn't hold in his laughter.  He was in a great mood, practically giddy, in fact.  He had his bite back!  He'd howled his joy for the world to know, not caring who heard him.  Plenty of people had heard him, vampires too, he knew, but they stayed away, apparently not wanting to challenge him.

Spike wasn't about to tell Willow though, at least not yet. She was already nervous enough around him.  Hell, every time he got near her, her heart raced in fear.  If he told her he was chip-less, she'd probably have a heart attack.  Then he'd never get back home.

She finally relaxed after an hour or so and fell asleep.  Spike was just drifting off to sleep himself when she rolled over and snuggled up next to him.  Now it was his turn to go absolutely still, sure that she was about to realize where she was and hasten herself back over to the edge of the bed, but she stayed where she was.  She even moved closer, wrapping an arm around his stomach, and resting her head on his chest.  He eventually relaxed himself, and fell asleep, wrapping his own arm around her shoulders.

~~~*~~~

Spike took a drag off of his cigarette and glared at the redhead sitting across the table from him.  She alternated between picking at her food and glaring at him as well.  He blew smoke directly at her, laughing when she coughed a few times, and stared pointedly at him.

"Do you mind?" she asked.  "Oh, wait, of course you don't. Giving a human lung cancer is probably right at the top of your list of tortures.  You know, since you're so... um, impotent."

"Well, I try," he said modestly, not at all offended, though that was obviously her intention.

Robbed of her fun, she raised a scornful eyebrow at him.  "Are you ever gonna tell me where the money came from?"

He chuckled, finding the disgruntled look on her face very amusing.  Her completely healed face.  She'd told him earlier that it was a side effect of the time travel spell.  Lucky for her, otherwise she might be a little dead right now, due to the hole no longer in her back from the pitchfork.

She sighed again, still glaring at him.  He knew she had her suspicions about where he'd gotten the money, but he wasn't giving anything away.  "No.  I'm not."

"Fine."  She pushed her plate away from her and stood up.  "I'm going for a walk."  She yanked his duster out from under her foot and stomped out of the pub.

Spike followed her with a sigh, staying a few paces behind her as she walked aimlessly through the nearly empty streets.  She looked ridiculous in his coat, but it covered her pants and his T-Shirt.  Her own blouse had only one sleeve, and was covered in blood, so it was out of the question.  There was nothing he could do about her red pants though, hence the duster.

Tomorrow she was going shopping, to get them both some new clothes from the modiste's, but until then, she needed to remain covered while in public.

He found himself feeling rather naked without the heavy leather coat.  His hands wanted to dive deep into the pockets and fish out a cigarette even though they weren't in there anymore.  They were currently in his back pocket, but he missed the familiar action and odd comfort he got from wearing the duster.  He also felt weird without his T-Shirt.  All he had on was the red shirt he usually wore over the tee, and it was buttoned up, something he never did.  He liked layers, but hated to be encumbered.

Willow disappeared down an alley, so he picked up his pace with a sigh.  She was keeping as much distance between them as she could without being stupid enough to go off on her own.  It was obvious she was pissed at him, and he knew why.  The money thing.  Or rather, how he'd acquired the money.

He'd woken up just after nightfall to find himself wrapped up in Willow.  One of her legs was nestled in between his, and the rest of her was strewn across his chest.  One hand was on his stomach, the other underneath his back.  She was all warmth and sweet smelling blood.  As a demon, he'd wanted to drink her, but held back, enjoying the feel of her heart beating against his chest.  It was a nice feeling.  He reached his hand out and caressed her hair.

She sighed, and whispered, "Tara," then snuggled even closer.

Spike's hand halted and he glared down at her.  The blonde witch again.  He didn't understand why Willow was with her.  She was... kind of creepy.  She had those intense eyes, and she was always staring at him, making him feel like an insect, and he hated it, hated her.  So when Willow whispered her name, he did what he'd done the night before.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Tara's dead, Willow.  She's dead.  I killed her.  Drank her dry."

Willow whimpered slightly and rolled away from him, still asleep.  She had nightmares after that and he watched her as he got dressed, thoroughly enjoying the results of his whispered words.  She called out to Tara a few times, even yelled at Spike to stay away from her.  He left the room when she bolted upright, drenched in sweat.

He sighed again.  Or maybe she was brassed off because he had told her in no uncertain terms that they were staying longer than he'd anticipated.  Much longer.

Willow glared back at the vampire following her.  She really hated him.  Why did he have to be such a... vampire?  They had come to an understanding, hadn't they?  A truce?

Apparently not.

She knew there was more to the money thing than he'd said.  Found it on the street, my butt.  She had an awful feeling that he'd killed someone and robbed their dead body.  If she was right, then he'd gotten his bite back, and he could now kill her if he wanted to.  It made sense.  She'd gotten extra healing powers, and he'd gotten healed as well.  No more chip.  She'd fished around for answers during dinner, but he hadn't taken the bait.

She sighed deeply, hating Spike for having kidnapped her once again.  Gonna get a complex if this keeps up, she thought.  Am I, like, extremely kidnap-able or something?

A noise from the far end of the alleyway snapped her head up.  She peered into the darkness, trying to see through the gloom, but couldn't see more than a few feet in front of her.  Pulling Spike's duster tighter about her, she headed deeper into the alley.

As she neared the other side, she heard more noises that sounded almost like... snoring?  A hand touched her shoulder making her jump nearly out of her skin.  "Son of a--"

"Stay here," Spike whispered in her ear, then moved forward, disappearing into the gloom.

Willow was hard put to stay still after that scare.  Her heart was beating to a whole new drummer at the moment, and that drummer wasn't playing fair with the double-time beat.  And, yes, now that she could hear past her own heartbeat, that was definitely snoring she was hearing.  Spike's laughter floated back to her, and, her curiosity getting the better of her, she followed him.

"Oh, my God.  It's Angelus."  She backed away from him even though he was asleep on the ground, his loud, drunken snores echoing throughout the alleyway.

Spike, still laughing, put a hand on her shoulder again, halting her.  "No, pet.  That," he stressed, "is Liam.  Absolutely human.  Absolutely drunk."

"You're sure?" she asked, looking from him to Angel.

"Definitely.  He has a heartbeat."

Her own heartbeat slowed down dramatically at his assurance and she took a step closer to Angel.  No, Liam.  He looked exactly as he did in her time except his hair was longer, kind of flying about his face.  He gave a drunken snort and swatted at something they couldn't see.

Willow practically bent over double with laughter.  "This," she asked, motioning toward Liam, "is one half of the scourge of Europe?"

Spike's laughter joined hers.  "This is nothin', love, his drunken debauchery didn't end with his life.  Looks rather pathetic, doesn't he?"

"Maybe we should, I don't know, take him home or something? Make sure he gets there safe?"

Spike snorted.  "He gets home safe tonight.  Tomorrow night he gets Darla.  Or rather, she gets him."

Willow sobered up, remembering where she was and who she was with.  "Right.  I forgot," she said flatly.  She took one last look at the human Angel and walked away.

She didn't see Spike kick out with his booted foot and connect with Liam's midsection.  Liam's eyes opened, and he groaned, curling up into a ball, his eyes on the strange couple walking away from him.

~Part: 4~

Spike once again woke up just after sunset, with Willow once again wrapped around him.  He extricated himself from her arms and legs, and settled her beside him before sitting up.  His cigarettes were on the night stand beside him, ready to slide off the broken surface at the least provocation, he ignored them and moved to the window.  The moon was just starting to rise over the buildings, it's yellowed surface casting a false color on everything in its path.

Darla was out there somewhere.  So was Liam.  He wasn't exactly sure on the time, but he knew it would happen close to dawn.  Something inside him wanted to be there to see it happen, but he was determined to resist.  He and Willow may have already changed time just by being there, not to mention having run into both of them on separate occasions.  He wasn't about to risk it again.

Willow stirred in the bed, drawing his attention.  She lay curled up on her side, facing away from him, her forehead furrowed.  She seemed to be having another nightmare, though not because of him this time.  As he turned back to the window, a flash of blue in the wardrobe caught his eye.  He went over and opened the door.  Two period style gowns hung inside, one blue, one brown.  Figures, he thought.  Even now, when women's styles  were rather flashy and daring, Willow chose to be mousy.  Though the blue one wasn't as bad as all that.  Still, he imagined it was very properly cut, or had a heavy shawl to go over it.

His own clothes, he assumed, were in the dresser.  He quietly opened a few drawers, finding two pairs of breeches, two waistcoats, and two ruffled shirts.  He quickly dressed in the white breeches, one of the ruffled shirts and the blue brocade waistcoat.  He snarled at the stockings he was forced to wear underneath the breeches.  The black buckle shoes were even worse.  At the first opportunity, he was going to find himself a nice pair of Hessians.

Debating on whether or not to go out hunting, he lit a cigarette.  If he went now, he'd reduce the risk of running into Angel and Darla later.  Liam would be busy getting drunk, and Darla was most likely out feeding.  Feeling anxious, he left the room, heading out into the darkened streets.  Having his biting ability back was rather like falling off the wagon.  He wanted to feed as often and as much as he could.  He wanted to overindulge, and he had been.

Besides, they needed more money.

His wanderings brought him to a house on the outskirts of town.  It was a quaint little cottage with--he concentrated-- four people inside.  Two adults and two children.  He was starving for both blood and sport, and hungry for a thrill and  some excitement.  He started up the walk when he heard someone behind him.  He spun around, and came face to face with Angelus.

Spike stepped back, keeping to the shadows.  This wasn't Angelus, it was Liam.  The human sized up the vampire with a glare.

"I knew I'd run into you sooner or later," Liam said angrily.  "I think this belongs to you."  He swung a fist at Spike, which was easily dodged by the vampire.  Liam tried again with his other fist, and then a leg when that one missed its mark as well.

After his initial surprise, Spike avoided Liam's punches, and grabbed his leg as he kicked it out.  Spike yanked up on the leg, throwing Liam off balance.  Liam tumbled to the ground, landing hard.  "What's your bloody problem?" Spike snarled, still in the shadows.

Liam jumped up, angrier than before.  "You were in the alley last night with your whore, havin' a grand ole time laughin' it up and kickin' me in the ribs."  His soft Irish brogue grew more pronounced with each word.  "I've been waitin' for you, so I could repay you in kind."

"Never gonna happen," Spike told him.  "And she's not my whore, she's my wife."  He hoped he sounded angry enough.  Probably did, because he was angry.  The bastard had no right to call Willow his whore.  If he needed a whore, she'd be a hell of  a lot more... well, frankly, she wouldn't be Willow.  "Don't you have some drinking to do, Angel?"  Spike's jaw tightened when he realized what he'd said.  He groaned silently at the fury in Liam's eyes.  This time when the younger man swung, Spike let the blow land.

"The name's Liam, and you'd do well to remember it, you white-haired bastard."  He surreptitiously rubbed his sore hand and glared at spike.

Spike had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.  Angelus had always been brutal, cruel, and mean.  As a human, he was just... amusing.  Not the least bit threatening.  Sure, he'd seen Spike's face somewhat, and had definitely gotten a gander at his bleached hair, but Spike figured that by the time they ran into each other again a hundred and thirty years in the future, Angelus would have forgotten their current encounter.

~~~*~~~

Willow snuck a look at Spike.  He looked extremely handsome in the clothes she'd bought earlier that day, but she so wasn't used to seeing him in anything other than his usual black jeans, black T-Shirt, red button down shirt and leather duster.  When she'd gone to the shop that afternoon, she'd had strict instructions from Spike to get him full breeches, not the half breeches that were in fashion now.  She hadn't known the first  thing about choosing clothes, so she'd been happy to have somewhere to start.  It was all rather confusing.

She'd gotten two outfits for the both of them, having been extremely lucky in finding someone else's leftovers.  They'd been made for someone who had never picked them up.  So Willow bought them.  One gown was a plain tan with half sleeves that ended in white lace.  The collar was a little lower than she was used to, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as the leather bustier her vamp double had worn.

The modiste had tried to lace Willow into a corset, but Willow wouldn't let the woman near her with one of those torture devices.  She knew the damage they could do and she wasn't about to put herself in one.  The dress fit her perfectly without the corset, and would hang off of her if she wore a corset, so she refused the nice modiste.  The other dress was similar in design, the only real difference being the color.  It was sky blue, with tiny white pearls lining the bodice.  She rather liked the blue one.  She could get used to dressing like this, especially if they were going to be here as long as Spike intended.

Spike himself had on white breeches, a blue brocade waistcoat with a white ruffled shirt underneath, and Willow had never seen him look more gorgeous.  The other outfit consisted of tan breeches, a white ruffled shirt, and a black waistcoat.  His  clothes and her gowns obviously had been made to match, and she secretly thought they looked pretty cool together.

She'd dressed in the blue gown as soon as she woke up from her nap.  She was slightly disappointed that Spike hadn't even noticed her change in clothes, but she knew why.  Angelus was to be made tonight.

Spike was anxious, and on edge.  He'd been pacing for over an hour now, and smoking like a chimney.  She got up from the chair, her skirts swishing around her ankles, and went to the open window, breathing in the smokeless night air.

"Why don't you go already?" she wondered aloud.

"Go where?" he asked distractedly.

"To watch.  Angelus is being made tonight.  How many vampires get to witness their own creation, in a way?"  She turned from the window, watching him.  He stopped pacing and flopped in the chair.

"It's not for a few hours yet.  And I haven't decided whether I want to go or not," he conceded.  "I don't actually fancy seeing the poof, but it could be interesting."

"Sure you do," she told him matter-of-factly.  "Fancy seeing the poof-- um, Angel, I mean.  This is the Angelus you knew and loved, not the one from Sunnydale.  He's your sire, your lover, your--"

Spike shot out of his chair so fast Willow barely saw him move.  He stalked over to her and grabbed her by the arms.  "You finish that sentence, Red, and I'm going to have to politely rip your throat out, and ruin your pretty new dress.  Where the bloody hell did you get the idea that we were ever lovers?  Hello!  Does a century with Dru ring any bells?"

Willow swallowed nervously, not even trying to pull out of his grasp.  She'd been right, the chip was inactive, because his grip was so tight she knew she'd have bruises in a little while... unless they disappeared before they showed up.  She wondered how that worked.  He was glaring at her with such anger that she figured he'd snap and kill her if she made any sudden moves, so she stayed where she was and tried to calm her racing heart.

"Um, I-- I don't know.  I just assumed, we all... assumed, because you're demons, and um..." she trailed off, knowing she was just making it worse.  His hands tightened on her arms for a second before he pushed her away.

"You and that damn gang of misfits all think that me and the poof..." he shuddered, scowling at her.  "That's just... incredibly disgusting.  I mean, not that it's bad if you're into that sort of thing.  Wait a second, I'm a vampire, I don't have to be politically correct, I stand by my first statement."  He sat back down in the chair.  "And Dru's my sire, not poof-boy."

"Dru?" she asked, startled.  "But I thought-- Giles said that Angel was you sire, and... what about what you told Angel on parent-teacher night?  That Angel was your sire, your Yoda."  He raised a brow at her.  "Oh, um, Xander told me.  He was the one Angel decided to use as bait."

Spike laughed, remembering that night.  It was the first time he'd seen Angelus in nearly a hundred years, and he'd been quite surprised.  "I remember, the moron thought he was about to die, and all he could do was say, 'I knew it was all an act' to Angel.  The boy's got no priorities."

Willow ignored his jibes at Xander.  "So Dru's really your sire?  Not Angel?"  She thought about this, and realized that they knew next to nothing about Spike, a.k.a. William the Bloody.  "So that means you're not as old as we thought you were."  She looked at him accusingly.  "How old *are* you?"

"Not as old as you think I am," he chuckled.  "Why?"

"Because I'm curious."  He gave her a dubious look.  "Okay, you tell me some of your background and I'll regale you with stories of Sunnydale."

He looked less than impressed with her offer.  "Why would I care what happened in Sunny D?  No deal."

She thought for a second.  "How about I tell you about... um..." she couldn't think of anything at first, but then she remembered, "Oh, ooo!  The other Willow."

He tossed her a skeptical look, not at all ready to believe her.  "Other Willow?  Is this a joke?  What, like you've got an evil twin out there somewhere?"

"Yep.  So?  Deal, or no deal?"  He nodded after a minute and she grinned.  "Okay.  You first."  She sat down on the bed and rested her back against the headboard.

Spike lit a cigarette, one of his last, and settled back in the chair.  "How I Was Sired, by Spike.  London, 1880.  I ran into Dru, and she made me.  There you go.  Your turn."

Willow grinned and shook her head.  "I don't think so.  I'm gonna need a few more details than that.  Why did she make you?  Where were you when it happened?  What was your family like?  Did you have a family?"

"Of course I had a family, Witch.  Wasn't an orphan if that's what you're thinking.  Had a mother, a father, the whole package."

"Oh.  Darn.  I mean, not darn that you had parents, but darn because I lost a bet."

"You had a bet going on me?"  That was laughable, little witch woman had running bets.  He didn't think she had it in her.

"Yep.  Me and Tara.  She said you had a family, I said you were an orphan."

Tara again.  Damn, could he not get away from the damn creep?  Spike scowled at her.  "I'd appreciate it if you and Witch number two didn't make a habit out of discussing me."

She nodded agreeably.  "Okay.  Sorry."

"Anyhow, I was at a society party, got bored, went out for some fresh air and ran into Dru, Angelus, and Darla.  Dru followed me, asked if I wanted to join her.  I said yes.  She made me, end of story."

"Okay, fine.  An alternate universe me was made a vampire, she came to our world, we sent her back."  She grinned at him.  "You give me more, I'll give you more."

He grinned, enjoying the game.  It took his mind off of Darla and Angel, and the events that were going to take place in a few hours.  "Okay.  Let's see.  I got the railroad Spike idea from an aristocrat at the party.  Said he'd rather have a railroad Spike driven through his skull than listen to my-- uh, someone's poetry.  Or something.  So I obliged him."  He looked away, not sure why the hell he was telling her this.  Luckily she hadn't caught his slip-up.  The last thing he needed was for Willow to know--and then run and tell the gang--that he'd been a bloody awful poet.

"My turn," she muttered, looking up at the ceiling in thought.  "Um.  All right.  See, Xander and I had this thing.  Uh, for each other.  But, I was dating Oz, and Xander was dating Cordelia."

Spike rolled his eyes.  "You and the moron?  That's just sick, Red."

Willow tossed one of the pillows at him.  "You wanna hear this or not?"

Spike caught the pillow inches from his face, and set it on his lap.  "Okay, okay, just get on with it.  And preferably leave out the Xander bits."

"Hey.  No comments from the peanut gallery.  I have to mention the Xander bits, they're part of the story, duh.  Now, where was I?" she asked, pretending to think on it.  Seeing his impatient look, she nodded with a grin.  "Um, oh, right.  Xander and I were trying to keep away from each other.  See, I'd always had a thing for him.  Pretty much since forever."

Spike made a show of rolling his eyes and sticking his finger down his throat, until she finally got the hint and skipped over the nauseating parts.

"Anyway, I decided to do a de-lusting spell one night, because things were just getting worse, and neither of us wanted to hurt Oz and Cordelia."

"Thank God there wasn't any shagging.  Don't think I could've handled that."  She glared at him, and he waved his hand imperiously at her.  "Continue."

Another pillow flew across the room at him.  He put it behind his head and relaxed.

She went on, watching him pointedly.  "So, just as I was about to do the spell, a vampire broke into the room and knocked Xander out."

Spike's eyes narrowed.  Something about what she'd said sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure why.

"Yup, just knocked him right out, and dragged us with him to this burnt out old factory."  She was near grinning now, watching him for any reaction, and he still wasn't sure why.  When he remained quiet, she went on.  "He was drunk.  Turns out his girlfriend had left him, and he wanted me to do a--"

Spike started laughing.  "Love spell to get her back.  I remember, but what's that got to do with a vamp you?"

"Well," she said slyly, "I had to show you how it was all your fault."

"My fault?" he snorted.  "Not likely."

She sat forward eagerly, obviously dying to tell the rest of her story.  "Oh, but it is.  'Kay, see, you kidnapped me and Xander.  Ever wonder what happened after you left us there?  How we were found?"

He shrugged.  "I told the slayer and her puppy where you were."

Her eyes widened, and she laughed delightedly.  "Puppy?  That's funny, 'cause... well, I'll get to that in a minute.  Buffy and Angel didn't find us.  Oz and Cordy did.  Oz followed  my scent, and they rushed to our rescue, only to find us making out on the bed."

"Didn't think you had it in you, Red.  Cheating on dogboy?"  He made a disgusted face.  "I'll refrain from grossing out on *who* you cheated with."

"Yeah," she said, looking sad, and regretful, completely ignoring his last comment.  "Neither did I.  Anyway, Cordy freaked out and ran, fell through the stairs and landed on a rebar.  She never forgave us.  Oz did... eventually."

Spike sat back with a yawn.  "Still waiting for the part where it's my fault."

"I'm getting there, hold your horses.  So, Cordy gets out of the hospital, and her first day back at school she meets this girl who tries to get Cordy to take vengeance on Xander.  She does... only, she somehow blames everything on Buffy."

Spike furrowed his brow.  "How the hell did she come up with that?"

Willow rolled her eyes.  "Please, you do it all the time.  You blame everything on Buffy.  Dru leaving you, the chip, heck, you probably even blame her for us being here right now.  It's a nice scapegoat.  She's the slayer, therefore, she's to blame for everything that goes wrong."

Spike had to admit she was right.  He did tend to blame things on Buffy.  But it was fun, besides, he couldn't admit to  being wrong, it just wasn't in his nature.  "Okay, so she blamed the slayer, and then what?"

"She wished that Buffy had never come to Sunnydale.  Anya granted her wish."

"Anya?  Demon girl?"  He grinned, rubbing his hands together.  "All right, now we're talking.  So what happened?  The Master must have risen.  Wonder if I was there to kill the Anointed One, or if someone else did it."

"I don't know about the Anointed One, but, yeah, the Master did rise.  In fact, Xander and I were his favorites.  Your turn."

"What?  Oh, no.  No, no, no, no.  You finish yours first."  He sounded like a petulant child, but he didn't care.  He was rather anxious to hear about Willow as a vampire.  He wondered what she was like.  Was she still shy and sweet, or did the demon take complete control of her and erase all the 'Willowness' from her personality?

"Tit for tat, Spike.  Ya gotta give a little to get a little."  It was beginning to get chilly, so she went to the window and shut it, then leaned against the wooden shutters, wrapping her arms around herself.

Spike watched her, admiring the picture she made.  She was beautiful, always had been, but in her blue gown, she was breathtaking.  He wasn't about to let her know that however, the  last thing he needed was an infatuated teenager hanging all over him.

"Well?" she prodded.

"Where'd I leave off?" he asked her.

She crossed her arms over her chest.  "Basically, Dru made you and some lord or something gave you the idea for railroad spikes.  Details, vague-boy, gimme details."

He chuckled at the impatience in her voice and on her face.  She looked about ready to pounce on him to beat the information out of him.  He cleared his throat, purposely taking his time.  "Let's see.  Dru made me, covered that.  Got the Spike idea from Lord Smithee, the bastard.  Ah, here we go."  In his best Bela Lugosi accent, he said, "I tried to be the best creature of the night that I possibly could."

She chuckled and rolled her eyes at him.  "Oh, brother."

"Family always came first with me," he continued in his normal voice.  "So, I made them a priority."

Her laughter stopped and she went sort of pale, looking rather nauseous all of a sudden.

"Oh, no, pet.  Don't you go getting sick now, you wanted details, I'm giving you details.  Killed my mother first.  She was always rather smothering.  Didn't know a boy's gotta go off on his own sometime.  My father... well, he was a great guy, so I  let him live.  Funny thing was, I didn't realize what a great bloke he was while I was alive.  Mum's fault I guess."

Willow sat down on the bed, still pale, but looking considerably better.  "Those kinds of details I can handle.  I thought you were going to get all gory."

"Nah.  For some reason humans tend to frown down on that."  He laughed at the sarcastic look on her face.  "Need more?"
"Yes, please," she answered, sounding all prim and proper, sitting there with her hands in her lap.

"So the four of us cut a bloody swath through blah, blah, blah.  You know, I don't think Angelus and I ever liked each other much.  He taught me everything I needed to know, but we just clashed way too much.  He didn't like the way I did things, I didn't like the way he did things.  He was low key, I was--"

"Cocky?  Arrogant?" Willow asked innocently.  There was a twinkle in her eyes and he had to laugh.

"Yeah.  Pretty much.  Especially after I found out about the Slayer.  Wanted to find me one and kill her."

Willow nodded.  "You killed two of them, right?"

"Yeah.  Took twenty bleedin' years.  Felt like an eternity.  The four of us had split up for a bit, but we met up again in China.  Hadn't seen Angelus for over a year.  Didn't know it at the time, but it was because he was souled.  Sure, he was acting all weird and stuff, but we had no idea.  Well, me and Dru didn't.  Darla knew."

Willow looked at him oddly.  "Neither you or Drusilla knew Angel had his soul?  Isn't she, like, psychic or something?"

"Not psychic exactly.  She has visions, but half the crap she babbles about is just that, crap."  He glanced at her when he heard her skirts rustling and was surprised to see her sitting forward, staring at him with a sappy look on her face.  "What?" he demanded.

"You.  You get this... this look on your face whenever you talk about Drusilla.  It's sweet.  You still love her.  Which is weird, since, vampires aren't supposed to love, but you do."

She was right, he did still love Dru, probably always would.  "We can love.  In fact, I'd say we love better than humans do.  Certainly longer than humans do.  Your turn."

"Wait, the slayer.  Finish that, then I'll go."  She pouted and batted her eyelashes shamelessly.

He sighed explosively, not the least bit angry.  "Oh, all right.  I found the slayer in China during the Boxer Rebellion in nineteen hundred.  Angelus was with us again, acting bloody strange, real quiet-like, you know?  But, like I said, we had no idea why.  Anyway, I cornered the Slayer near a temple.  Fires were raging all around us, people were screaming and running for their lives."  He paused, drawing in a deep breath in remembrance.  "It was-- when we fought, it was just... perfect.  All blood and swords, and fists and fangs.  The others were off somewhere, feeding or torturing, I couldn't have cared less.  Had me a slayer."  He ran his thumb over his scarred eyebrow.  "She gave me this.  She was pretty handy with a sword, but I was better."  When he glanced over at Willow, he found her staring at him intently, completely engrossed in his story-telling.  "Slayer's blood's a heady experience," he said softly.  "Get a taste of slayer, get a taste of heaven.  Supposed to be an aphrodisiac.  Don't know if it's the blood that does it or the thrill and excitement of killing your mortal enemy, but I needed another taste.  Took over seventy years.  Your turn."

"Um, how-- how'd you kill her?  I mean, with her sword, a stake?  Break her neck?"  Her voice was shaking, and Spike could tell she wasn't as okay with this as she was pretending to be.

"Bit her.  Drained her.  Go."  He was giving her an out.  Giving her something else to think about, because she looked about ready to cry.

Willow looked away from Spike, knowing that if she didn't, she would either break down crying, or throw up.

"Me.  Right.  Um, where was I?" she asked, grateful for the respite.

"You and Xander were the Master's favorites," he reminded her.

"Right.  Again, I'm getting ahead of myself.  See we didn't even know about this world until months later.  Cordy was sent to  this alternate universe and killed.  Giles saved the day and Anyanka was defeated.  We only found out about it later because Anya asked me to do a spell with her to find her necklace, a necklace that held all her power.  She told me it was an heirloom."  Willow laughed harshly.  "Naive little Willow comes through again.  We did the spell and instead of her necklace coming through, I was pulled through... or rather, Vamp Willow was.

"Anya did all this and you lot still like her?  Xander's dating her?"  He shook his head, probably wondering why they would accept Anya but not him.

"I don't like her, I tolerate her.  And Xander can date whoever he wants to.  She's completely human now, so she can't hurt us or anything."

"Yeah, right," he muttered, shaking his head.  "Keep going."  He waved his hand angrily.

"So vamp Willow came through the portal into our world, and boy, I can tell you, she caused quite a bit of trouble.  She beat up Percy."  At his blank look, she explained.  "He was an athlete that Principal Snyder insisted I 'help'.  Which Percy took to mean I do his homework while he goes out and parties.  Well, Alterna me showed him.  Threw him across a pool table."

Spike chuckled at the unrestrained glee on her face.  "Go, Red."

"Xander saw her and freaked out, you know, 'cause of the Percy-throwing, and the clothes.  She was sort of fond of the leather look.  Leather corset, leather pants, and-- and boots."  Seeing his narrowed eyes fastened on her, Willow bit her lip and carefully avoided looking at him again, knowing he was probably trying to picture her in leather.  She wasn't like that, her vampire counterpart was, not her.  "Um, anyway, she and Xander were together in their world, and she remembered him being killed, and was quite happy to see him alive again.  Only, he was a little more alive than she liked.  Also, she, um, s-- seemed to have this liking for me... in an icky licking kind of way.  Her hands were constantly in places they shouldn't be... naughty places."

Spike chuckled deeply, no trace of what he was thinking showing on his face.  In fact, his face was kind of blank, except for the amused part.  "Leather and naughty touching plus licking.  Sounds like a great date.  What did this paragon of non-virtue do, besides beat up people who were mean to you?"

Willow rolled her eyes and sat back against the headboard, pulling her legs underneath her.  Her skirts tangled around her legs, and it took her a good minute to untangle them.  With a frustrated sigh, she leaned her head back against the wall.  "Took over the Bronze, and, um, set herself up as leader of the local vamps."

Spike was looking at her with new respect, and she had to fight to keep the grin off her face.  Wouldn't do to show how much his respect meant to her.  Not that it did mean anything to her.  Right.

"We found out about the plan to munch on the local teens and I got to play vampire for a while, complete with leather corset.  The vamps with her, of course figured out I wasn't a vampire, and the plan fell apart, but it turned out okay.  Buffy wanted to stake her, but... I don't know, I felt kinda sorry for her.  She was alone in a strange world, everything she knew was taken from her, I just--"  A pillow smacked her in the chest and she glared at the vampire responsible before putting the pillow behind her back.

"Leave it to you to feel sorry for a vampire."  Spike stood up, stretching.  The other pillow she'd thrown at him joined the first on the bed and he followed it, getting comfortable.

She shrugged.  "Only a Me vampire.  You don't see me taking pity on you, do you?"

"And you bloody well better not," he tossed back, "I don't need your pity, or your sympathy."

Willow sighed, frustrated.  They seemed to always be at each other's throats all the time.  It was getting exhausting.  As usual, she would just pretend he hadn't sniped at her.  "You want to hear this or not?  I haven't even gotten to Puppy yet."  She grinned at him, delighting in his-- but, hey, he wasn't confused.  He wasn't even paying attention.

"Sure," he said with a yawn, "whatever."  He leaned back, closing his eyes.

    She glared at him, resisting the urge to smack him on the arm.  "I asked Buffy and Giles if I could talk to her, you know, alone, and they agreed, albeit reluctantly."  Willow glared at him some more.  He definitely wasn't paying attention anymore.  At least, she didn't think he was.  She leaned down next to his ear, and whispered, "She told me that... in her world, they have people in chains, and you can ride 'em like ponies."

Spike's eyes snapped open as her warm breath fanned across his cheek.  Her words registered a few seconds later, and he turned his head toward her.  She was grinning like a fool, so proud of herself for getting a reaction out of him.  "Where's the fun in that?  No hunting?  No prey?  Might as well brown bag it like the poof."

"Angel," she said with a small smile.  "He was there too, in her world.  Had a soul..." she trailed off, leaving him hanging.

He rolled his eyes at her dramatics.  "And?" he drawled.

"And she kept him chained up in a cage in the basement.  He was 'Puppy'.  She used him for... uh, you know."  Oh-so brave there, Willow, she silently admonished herself.  Used him for 'you know'?  What was she?  Ten?  "Sex," she proclaimed, unnecessarily.  "She used him for sex."

Spike started laughing, and couldn't seem to stop.  "You dominated Angelus?  Oh, that is priceless," he gasped out.  "Does he know?"

Amused by Spike's reaction, Willow simply shook her head.

"Looks like a trip to L.A. is in order once we get back," he chuckled.

Willow nodded eagerly.  "Or..." she said excitedly, "or we could *not* tell him, huh?"

Spike patted her cheek softly as if to say, 'Nice try, kid'.  "Not a chance, pet."  He sighed heavily, a grin still on his lips.  "I'm gonna go eat.  Stay here," he warned her, getting up and throwing on his duster.

"But, things'll be weird between us if you tell him," she grumbled.  "He'll probably think I'm skanky or something."

Spike paused in the doorway.  "Skanky, Red?  Not likely.  Pure, innocent, untainted, maybe.  But not skanky."  And with that, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

~Part: 5~

Willow snuck a peek around the corner, making sure Spike was still there.  He was a half a block away, leaning against a brick-faced building, smoking a cigarette.  His attention was focused on a woman across the street that Willow was pretty sure was Darla.  Small, blonde, beautiful... kind of Buffy-esque actually.  Willow had only seen her once, and she'd been a little distracted with finding out vampires were real and trying not to become one.

Darla strolled down the street with a confidence few human women possessed during this time period, her skirts swishing from side to side.  Willow found herself envying the diminutive vampire.

A scraping noise from Spike's direction grabbed her attention, and she carefully poked her head around the corner again.  Panic flared when she didn't see him.  A second later, she saw a flash of black disappear down the alley across the street where Darla had gone.  Willow counted to twenty, then followed.  She darted across the street, and ducked into the alley, feeling like Sherlock Holmes.  She flattened herself against the brick wall-- a lumpy brick wall that was moving!

She shoved herself away from the wall, and screamed.  A hand snaked around her mouth, cutting off her scream, and another one  encircled her waist, hauling her back against a hard male chest.  She struggled against her captor with a vengeance, kicking and hitting whatever she could reach, which wasn't much.  Her screams for Spike were muffled, but desperate.  If she could be heard through sheer determination, she would be, unfortunately, she couldn't.  The hand around her waist jerked her backwards, a warning for silence.

She went limp, hoping her captor would be surprised and let her go long enough for her to get away.  He wasn't surprised.  His hold only tightened, so she bit his hand.  There was a muffled curse from the man holding her, but she barely heard it. She screamed for Spike as loud as she could, hoping he was still close enough to hear her.  A hand slapped against her mouth again, and Willow renewed her struggles.  Her scream was still echoing down the dark alley when a voice spoke near her ear.

"Hush now, lass, I'll not hurt you."

Willow went absolutely still.  The voice was familiar, and the hold he had on her brought back memories of a time when he'd held her captive in a similar fashion.  Angelus.  Oh, God.  What did he want with her?  Had he already been turned?  No, he was human.  His hand and breath were warm, his heart was beating against her back.

"You'll keep quiet if I remove my hand?"  Willow nodded emphatically, and he moved his hand down to her waist.

"What-- what do you want?" Willow asked him, trying to remember everything she knew about the human Angel.  He'd been a philanderer, a libertine... often drinking away his nights, and sleeping away his days.  She sincerely hoped they hadn't forgotten more important things, like being a killer.  Or rapist.  Or both.  A shudder escaped her, and her mouth went dry.

Liam whispered in her ear again, and this time she could smell alcohol.  "That man you're shackin' up with, he's your husband?"

Willow nodded again.  "Yes, he is.  My husband, yes."

There was a tsk-ing sound behind her.  "Pity, that."  She was let go and swung around quickly.  Her back hit the wall and her teeth clacked together painfully.  Liam stood in front of her, shaking his head regretfully.  "He's a right bastard, that one, and a womanizer to boot."  He watched her closely, but Willow wasn't sure what he was looking for.  "He finds himself a new woman nightly.  Takes them to dark alleys such as this one, and has his wicked way with them."

Willow remained silent, knowing Liam was trying to get a rise out of her for some reason.  She held her disgust in check, knowing Spike was feeding off of the women Liam thought he was sleeping with.  He very well might be sleeping with them for all she knew, but she didn't care about that.  He wasn't really her husband, and she had no feelings for him, so he could sleep with  any woman he wanted to.  Or man if he cared to.  It had nothing to do with her.

"I don't know what you mean, sir."  Play the innocent, and maybe he'd let her go.  Why did he care what Spike did?  Was he afraid of Spike taking away his women?  His Don Juan reputation?  She held back a giggle.

Liam shook his head.  "You do know.  That's why you're out here, following him.  Do you not trust your husband, Red?"

"Don't call me that."  Red was one of Spike's nicknames for her, and it just sounded wrong coming from someone else.  She sighed, and stared up at Angel; her friend, Buffy's love... but all she could see was Angelus.

He raised his hand to her cheek, and ran his finger along her jaw.  "Maybe we should give him something to be jealous about--"

Willow batted his hand from her face and shoved away from the wall, turning back to face him.  "I don't think so, Angel.  No way, absolutely not."

Liam's eyes narrowed, and his lips turned down in a frown.  "The name is Liam."

"I'm sorry, I-- you look like someone I know back home, in America-- I mean the New World.  His name is Angel, I got confused.  Sorry," she trailed off miserably.  Giles' voice was  chastising her in her mind.  He would probably have a fit if he knew she was changing history.  But he'd never know.  Would he?

"Angel," a new voice said softly, "the face of an Angel, the mind and body of a killer.  I like it."

Willow moved closer to Angel, feeling safer with him than with his soon to be sire.  She looked around quickly, wondering where Spike was, and if she could run without being seen.  Fat chance.  She stood as far behind Angel as she could, and watched Darla size him up.

A lazy smile turned up the corners of Darla's mouth as she strolled closer, her beautiful gown swishing around her ankles.  Willow felt like an alley cat standing before a regal lioness.

"I was on my way out of this dreadfully boring town when I ran into a fellow creature of the night," Darla told them conversationally, her small, girlish voice echoing through the alley.  "He asked me if I wanted a companion... someone to while away the long hours with.  He offered me you," she told Angel, stopping directly in front of him.

Angel, having been too busy staring at Darla's breasts which were near popping out of her bodice, finally understood her.  "Creature of the night?"

Willow rolled her eyes.  What was with the melodrama?  Shrugging, she watched as Liam trailed his eyes over Darla, Willow completely forgotten behind him.

"Which was a good thing," Darla continued, ignoring Angel's question.  "I'd have killed him before spending any time with him." She shivered delicately.  "He didn't appeal to me at all, this William."

Willow's eyebrows rose sky high.  William?  Spike?  Spike didn't appeal to Darla?  Hello!  Was the woman blind?  Oh, and please, like Darla could actually take out Spike.  Uh-huh.  And then Darla's words sunk in.  Spike offered Liam up to Darla... why?  Why not let things progress normally?  She would have to have a long talk with Spike about the consequences of changing the future.

Just as soon as she lectured herself on those same points.

"It's been too long since I've had a companion," Darla was saying.  "I'm lonely."

"In that case," Liam drawled, "I'd offer myself as escort to protect you from harm and to while away the dull hours."

"You're very gracious," Darla told him, as if she hadn't already made her decision.  As if Liam had a say in it.

"Hmm.  It's often been said," Liam agreed.

Willow took a few steps back while they were occupied with each other, hoping to escape unnoticed.

"Are you certain you're up to the challenge?" Darla asked coyly.

Liam was so taken by this point, that he wouldn't have been able to say no if he wanted to.  "M'lady, you'll find that... with the exception of an honest day's work, there's no challenge I'm not prepared to face."

Willow pressed her back against the wall, and took a few more steps away from the couple in the middle of the dark alley.  She looked up quickly when Liam fell silent, sure she'd been spotted.  Nope, he was just looking into Darla's eyes, trying to seduce the seducer.  Willow felt like she should care more that a human was about to die, but knowing everything that would happen down the line, she knew it had to happen.

"Oh... but you're a pretty thing.  Where are you from?"

Darla smiled at him, and Willow thought it a rather predatory smile, though it was meant to be teasing.  "Around.  Everywhere."

"I've never been anywhere myself.  Always wanted to see the world, but..."

"I could show you," Darla offered eagerly.

"Could you, then?"  Liam smiled at Darla, obviously thinking he was the one leading her on, not having a clue that he was being led to the slaughter.

"Things you've never seen, never even heard of."

There's that melodrama again, Willow thought, tossing a quick look over her shoulder.  She was almost free.  Just a few more feet to the entrance of the alley.

"Sounds exciting."

"It is," she agreed.  "And frightening."

"I'm not afraid," Liam said, and Willow knew he wasn't.  "Show me.  Show me your world."

Darla closed her eyes, and bid him to do the same.

Willow slipped out of sight of the couple and turned to run... straight into a male body... again.  Damn it!  She was about to push herself away when she was jerked roughly around.

"Hold still, Willow."

It was Spike.  Oh, joy!  He dragged her back to the alley entrance and grabbed her jaw, forcing her to watch Liam and Darla.

She'd never seen a vampire being made, and she had to admit to a certain curiosity, but she would rather have the choice.  She opened her mouth to tell him off, when his hand tightened on her jaw.

"Watch," he ground out.

Darla put her hand on Liam's shoulder, letting her face turn.  She smiled and growled, opening her mouth wide as she leaned down to bite him.  Liam stiffened, gasping.  From pain or blood loss, Willow wasn't sure, but when he sank to his knees, Darla followed him down, then let go.  She stood up straight, lifting her hand to her chest, and drew a fingernail across the flesh.  Blood trickled out.  She grabbed Liam by the back of the neck and pulled him in to the cut, forcing him to drink her blood.  He wrapped his arms around her and drank.

Willow, considerably paler and more nauseous than she'd been before, shoved against Spike's hold.  He let her go and she ran back to their room.

~~~*~~~

Spike tiredly rubbed his face as he watched Willow disappear into the inn.  What had the bint been doing out here in the first place?  Humans were just as dangerous in this time as vampires were.  Had she lied when she told him she'd never been attracted to Angel?  Had she wanted to see him so badly that she'd disregarded her own safety just to get a gander?

No, that didn't make sense.  When they'd seen Liam passed out in the alley, she hadn't seemed too attached, or curious.  Still, she wouldn't be the first one.  Most women seemed to fall for the wanker.  Didn't matter, Willow would not be one of them.  She could damn well keep her affections to herself.  He left the alley behind without a backward glance.

Inside the inn, he went straight to the bar, ordering a pint of ale.  While he waited for the barkeep to fill his mug, he took a look around.  A familiar redhead at a corner table caught his eye and he cursed.  Willow.  Was she getting drunk?  Admittedly, seeing a human die by the hand of a vampire and then be forced to become the very thing that had killed them wasn't a nice experience.  But... oh, well, she'd get over it.

He grabbed his ale and joined her in the corner.  "What's a nice witch like you doing in a time period like this?" he asked with a few sleazy looks at her cleavage, which was rather... ample, of late.

She turned angry eyes his way.  "You're a bastard."

Spike sat in the chair opposite her, leaning his elbows on the table.  "Yeah, and don't you forget it."  He took a long drink, used to the bitter taste after a few days here.  "Why were you out there?  You could've been killed."

"I didn't know you cared," she sneered.

He slammed his mug down on the table.  "I don't.  You're my way home, unless I fancy living out the next two hundred and fifty years.  Which I don't, 'cause mostly?  Been there, done that."

"Poor thing," she bit out, "would you be inconvenienced?  Try getting kidnapped, and being forced to participate in a spell that takes you away from everyone and everything you know."

"You'd better keep out of harms way," he said warningly.

She rolled her eyes and snorted, downing the last of her ale.  "You just told me to keep myself safe, or else.  Or else what, Spike?  You'll *kill* me?"

Spike calmly drank the rest of his ale, then stood up, grabbing her hand as he passed her.  She yelped and tried to pull  her hand free, but he didn't let go.  He pulled her upstairs, ignoring the barkeep's smirk.  He quickly unlocked the door to their room, and shoved her inside.  She fell to the floor, landing on her butt, and sat there glaring at him.

"Bastard," she hissed, climbing unsteadily to her feet.

"You're getting repetitive, Red."  He stalked over to her, and yanked her up.  "You want to know how I intend to punish you?"

He spun her around, so her back was to him, and lifted her hair off of her neck.  He vamped out and sank his teeth into her neck.  She screamed, struggling against him.  Spike paid her no heed as he drank the heady mixture of blood and magick.  Soon, her screams turned to whimpers, then to silence.  Fearing he'd taken too much, he pulled away from her, and was quite surprised when she didn't fall bonelessly to the scarred wooden floor.  Instead, she stood absolutely still.

Spike wiped his mouth on his hand before turning her around to face him.  Her eyes were closed, hands fisted at her sides, anger radiating off of her.  Spike almost took a step back.

"Get out."

He snorted at her.  "Not likely."

She turned around without a word, opened one of the drawers in the dresser and pulled out a stake.  Holding it high, she stalked back over to him.  "Get--"

Spike reached out and grabbed the stake from her, tossing it out the window.  "What the hell were you doing with that?  Planning on killing me, Red?  And why on earth didn't you take it with you earlier?  Bloody hell, you're supposed to be the smart one, but so far, all I've seen is your stupidity."

All the anger seemed to leave her as she sat on the bed, shoulders slumped.  "I was following you.  Curiosity is a human trait too, you know.  I figured I'd be safe if I stayed by you, then you disappeared down that alley, and Angel grabbed me, and I couldn't scream because he covered my mouth with his hand, and--"

"What?" Spike ground out.  "Did he hurt you?"  Hell, he'd been going on the assumption of her accosting Angel, not the other way around.  If Angel had hurt her...

"No.  Just brought back a few bad memories.  And tattled on you."

"About what?"  What could Liam possibly have on him that would interest Willow?

"Your nightly feeding, though he thought they were trysts, and since he thinks we're married, he thought it his duty to tell me that you're a womanizer."  She laughed slightly, the sound almost hysterical.  "Little did he know you were killing them, not... other things."

"I haven't killed anyone.  Not since our first night here."

She tossed him an incredulous look.  "Yeah, right."

"Drawing undue attention in a small town in Ireland and causing a mob to lynch me is not something I look forward to.  I can be discreet when I want to."  He took off his duster, and tossed it on the back of the chair before sitting down to remove his boots.  "Bastard taught me that, if nothin' else."

"Well... good," she said, obviously at a loss, then switched subjects.  "Why did you make me watch?"

Spike shrugged.  "For fun?"  She didn't need to know the real reason.  He'd been showing her what might've happened to her if he hadn't found her there.  But that might imply that he cared.

She reached up to touch the already healing bite mark on her neck.  "Fair warning.  I intend to drink at least one glass of holy water a day from now on, at different times.  Bite at your own risk."  She stood up and grabbed his black T-Shirt out of the dresser, and glared at him.  Spike sighed and turned around, removing most of his own clothes before climbing into bed.

Time for another night of Willow wrapped around him while she slept.  Another night of being so close to her magick filled blood, blood he'd just reacquainted himself with, and not being able to touch it.  Or her.  Not that he wanted to touch her.  Not that he didn't want to touch her.  But--

Willow cleared her throat, thankfully interrupting his thoughts.  Her bare legs, as always, looked so enticing.  He  often found himself tangling his own legs with hers while she slept.  She never knew.  She woke up every day completely unaware of some of the positions she placed herself in during the night.  Spike, on the other hand, was uncomfortably aware of all of them.  And right now, after having tasted her again, he found other parts of him wanting her.

Gotta be the ale, he thought, rolling away from her.

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