What Comes Around, Goes Around

Author: sinecure

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

~Part: 11~

(March 2000)

One minute Spike was standing in the cemetery with Willow and the demon, the next, he was standing in the cemetery alone.  Where was Willow?  He turned in a circle, but there was no sign of her.

"Willow?"  No answer.  Maybe she was in the crypt.  But how-- where was the demon?

"Spike," a voice said from behind him.  That answered the demon question.

Spike spun around and grabbed Buffy by the throat.  "Where is she?"

Buffy's eyes widened momentarily.  "Where's who?" she asked in confusion, batting his hand away.

"Where the bloody hell is she?" he yelled, punching her in the nose-- and falling to the ground in excruciating pain.  "Oh, hell," he groaned miserably, holding his head.  Buffy hauled him unceremoniously to his feet and shoved him against the side of his crypt.  His eyes focused on the girl in front of him, and his brows drew together in an agonized expression.  "You're human," he whispered, unable to keep his voice from shaking.

She nodded, not seeing the despair on his face.  "You're just getting that now, huh?  I always knew you were a little slow on the uptake.  Now.  Who is 'she', and why are you looking for her?"

"Willow," he mumbled, looking around.  The spell.  Of course it had gone wrong.  Now he was... where was he?  His gaze fell on Buffy again.  Or maybe when was he?

Buffy pinned him against the crypt, fixing him with a deadly look.  "What about Willow?  You know, you've been getting creepy around her lately, you better not be thinking about doing anything to her."

"Creepy," he repeated, trying to remember if he'd done anything even remotely resembling 'creepy' to Willow.  Nothing he could remember... but maybe things had changed because of Willow going back-- um, here.  Could be a nice fishing expedition for him.  Putting on his best belligerent face, which wasn't too hard to slip into, he smirked at her.  "What'd I do this time, Buffy?  Look at her wrong?"  Oops, probably should've left off calling her Buffy.

Her eyebrows skyrocketed at the use of her name.  "I'm talking about the way you've been following her around.  Spike."

Following her around?  Ah, man, what had Willow done to him?  "Um, where's Dawn?" he asked, getting a partial answer as to when he was.  Buffy had no idea who he was talking about.  So, apparently, he was back sometime before Dawn.  And he was chipped, so it was last year.  Well that narrows it down, he thought sarcastically.

He needed to get back.  But, how?

There was that expression Buffy got when she was without a clue.  If he admitted it to himself, he'd seen that look a lot.  "Who's Dawn?" she asked with a frown.  "And what about Willow?  Tell me what's going on.  Is Willow in trouble?"

He pushed away from the crypt quickly.  What if *he* was in there right now?  He almost laughed at the thought.  "No.  She's not in trouble."  Not for about a year and a half anyway.  "Dawn is a, um, newly risen vampire.  Uh, demon.  Shape-shifting demon.   Thought you were her.  Yeah, she, uh, she went that way.  Why don't you go after her, and I'll go see if Willow... Red's alright?"

Buffy was having none of it.  She shook her head with a snort.  "Or.  How about you come with me and we both see if Willow's alright.  'Cause if she's not?  Neither will you be.  Let's go."  She headed off, expecting him to follow.

Needing answers, and not wanting to screw with this time... like Willow apparently had, he followed behind her.  She didn't say a word the whole way, but Spike hadn't expected her to.  For his part, he was content to just watch her walk in front of him.  It would've been nice to talk, but she would find that odd, and he was trying to avoid raising her suspicions.

They got to Giles' apartment in under ten minutes, and Buffy walked right inside.  Spike hesitated.  The last time he'd been here, he'd found the watcher dead, massacred.  And Willow close to dead.  Plus, what if his invitation didn't work?

"Spike," Buffy called impatiently.  "Get in here."  Spike took a deep breath and stepped cautiously over the threshold.  No barrier.  He exhaled in relief.

When he turned his attention to the occupants of the room, he couldn't help the feeling of rightness and familiarity that shot through him.  They were incredibly annoying, and had despised him most of the time, especially because of his feelings for Buffy, but he still liked them.  He just wouldn't ever admit it to them.

Four faces turned his way.  Three of those faces dismissed him immediately, one didn't.  He saw Willow swallow nervously and shrink away from him.  Her heart was pounding so hard he half expected it to explode inside her chest.  This wasn't normal Willow behavior.  Something was wrong.  She hadn't reacted like this around him since he got the implant.

Buffy perched on the couch next to Willow.  "Hey.  Can I talk to you for a minute, Will?"

Willow's glance flickered to Spike briefly before smiling at her friend.  "Sure.  What's up?"

Buffy leaned over and whispered in Willow's ear.  His hearing picked up the conversation, though he showed no outward signs of it.

"It's about Spike.  I found him in the cemetery by his crypt.  He was looking for you.  Any idea why?"  Buffy was watching him closely while she waited for Willow's response.

Spike raised an eyebrow in amusement, and smirked slightly.

"No.  Why-- why would he be looking for me?"  Willow frowned, her eyes finding Spike's.  "Um, can we go outside and talk about this?  He's making me nervous."

"Yeah.  Come on."  Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and pulled her along.  "Be right back guys.  Roommate stuff."  They went outside, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Spike waited a whole thirty seconds before following them.  "Gonna grab a smoke," he told the others as he left.  No one said a word to stop him.  There was no way on earth he would ever admit to being slightly disappointed at that.  Did they even know he was there?  Shaking his head at his own pathetic thoughts, he shut the door quietly behind him.

Willow and Buffy were sitting on the brick wall around the fountain, where he'd found Willow unconscious.  After finding Buffy dead, he'd gone to Giles' to find the others and nearly tripped over Willow.  He'd been nearly as upset about finding her dead as he had Buffy.  But then he'd heard her heartbeat and wasted no time examining the feelings.  He'd propped her against the wall and gone inside Giles' apartment.  The smell of blood had permeated the whole room, the red and brown liquid he usually craved had been everywhere, over every surface, and he'd actually felt regret.

Stepping closer to the fountain, he sighed, forcing himself to focus on their words.

"--holding my hand." Willow was saying.

"Touched your hair?" Buffy said, sounding stunned.  "Touched you hair?"  Apparently she wasn't getting past that any time soon.

Willow nodded.  "Uh-huh.  He said there was something in it.  A leaf."

Spike cleared his throat, making his presence known.  They both fell silent as he approached them.  Willow seemed to be trying to melt into the fountain, while Buffy's glare pierced him through like a sword.

"Spike, you could probably clear this whole thing up now.  But I bet you won't, 'cause that'd be too easy.  Too helpful.  Can't have that."

He shrugged carelessly.  "Clear what up?"  Time to get the lowdown on him and Willow.  Only, this was the wrong Willow.  But, maybe the other Spike had said something to this Willow.

Buffy spoke up, while Willow stared at her shoes.  Green tennis shoes.  He smiled slightly.  The girl had appalling taste in clothes.  "Why are you following Willow around?"

Spike didn't have an answer.  He wasn't following her, his other self was.  They were talking about something that he hadn't done, but he had... and it was a singularly weird experience.  "I am?" he asked.  "Okay."  Both girls frowned at his answer.

"You are," Willow said softly.  "And Tara too.  She's seen you outside her dorm room.  And after last night... well, you're starting to scare us."

"Last night?" he asked curiously, "What happened last night?"

Her head shot up and she stared at him.  "You don't remember?"

Buffy scoffed, chuckling at his pathetically thin answers.  "What?  You got amnesia now or something?  Please," Buffy scoffed.

Spike stared at Buffy, realizing why he hadn't fallen in love with her during that first year of being chipped.  He didn't even like her.  She was sarcastic and self-involved.  It wasn't until he got to know her better, and realized that she wasn't actually like that, that he'd started to fall for her.  Unfortunately.  It'd be nice if he could keep himself from loving her.  But, if he did, the world might not be here anymore.

Too bad, because right now, she was being a snotty, sarcastic brat.

"Yeah," he grinned.  "I've got amnesia.  Why don't you refresh my memory, Slayer?"

Willow sighed heavily.  "Forget it, Buffy.  I'm gonna go, Tara's expecting me."  She was watching him when she said that, obviously expecting some sort of reaction from him.  He raised his eyebrows in question, and she shook her head, leaving.

"If you're done, Slayer, I'm gonna go too.  Nice seeing you again."  She rolled her eyes and went inside Giles' apartment.  Once she was inside, Spike lit a cigarette and sat down.  He may not like this Buffy, but his feelings for her were still there.  Still raw.  It wouldn't be good, for either of them, if he kept running into her, so, he'd just have to avoid her if at all possible.

A few minutes later, he stood up, crushing his cigarette under his boot, and headed to his crypt, unsure where else to go.  Who knew how long he was going to be here?  If his luck and Willow's magick had anything to say about it... he was going to be here a long time.  When he got back to his time, he was going to kill Willow.

As he approached his crypt, he saw the object of his thoughts slip inside.  He frowned, wondering why she was there.  No better way to find out than to ask her.  He went inside, keeping to the shadows just in case the other him was there.  He wasn't.  Past Spike wasn't.  Future Spike was, and he wanted some answers.

He cleared his throat loudly, making her jump and spin around.  Her hand flew to her chest, and her eyes scolded him.  He rolled his own eyes at her.  "Why are you here, Willow?"

She shrugged innocently.  "Um, I just... I wanted to know-- why are you following me and Tara?  Do you-- do you want a spell?  I could probably find one for you.  If you want.  And Tara is pretty powerful, so we could probably--"

"No," he said sharply.  "No spells.  Ever again.  Remember that when you're standing around in a cemetery in, oh, say a year and a half.  And there's a demon threatening you.  Don't.  Do.  A.  Spell.  Got it?"  Driving home the point was useless, he knew, she had never listened before, why should she now?  Still, he had to try, on principle.

She bit her lip in irritation.  "I've got it, geez.  So if you don't want a spell, what do you want?"

"Nothing," he answered truthfully, hiding his amusement at her frustration.

"Then why are you following us?" she practically yelled.

"I'm not."  Again, there was that truth thing.

"Oh, no?" she asked angrily.  "Then why have you been outside Tara's room almost every night?  I've run into you a few times. Remember, Amnesia Boy?  And last night, you--"

"I, what?"

"You threatened to kill Tara if she didn't leave town.  And then you... " her voice trailed off.

He lit a cigarette, backing off slightly.  What he wanted to do was shake the answers out of her, but he doubted that would help.  He glanced curiously around his home, noting the broken chair.  Everything looked the same except the chair, TV, and TV stand.  He sat down carefully in the chair and was assaulted by the scent of Willow.  In his haste to get out of the chair, his hand slipped off the arm and landed between the cushion and the arm, hitting something soft.  He yanked his hand up and stared at a pair of dark blue panties.

Panties that were ripped, and smelled of Willow.  He hopped up quickly, shoving them into his duster pocket before the Willow in front of him turned back around and saw them.  Were they hers, or were they his Willow's?  He was going on the assumption that they weren't this Willow's, but he had to be sure.

One of the Willows had some big-time explaining to do.  Bloody hell, why were her ripped panties in the seat of his chair?  Christ.  His mood was dipping way down, the more he saw of this time, and all the things that were different.

"Well?" he encouraged, sitting on his bed.  He laid back, ignoring her, trying to set her at ease.  As soon as his head hit the pillow, he jumped back up.  "Bloody hell!"  Her scent was on his pillows and blankets too.  In his bed.  His eyes bored into hers and she shrank back.  "What the hell happened last night, Willow?  Spit it out now."

She was watching him curiously, no doubt wondering at his odd behavior.  "You're not Spike," she whispered excitedly.  "Not our Spike."

"Am too," he countered lamely.

"Then why don't you know what happened last night?  Why do you look out of place in your own crypt?  And why," she finished triumphantly, "are you so antsy about what did or didn't happen?"

"Fine.  I'm from another time.  What happened last night?  I can smell you," he said angrily.  He was angry at himself.  The only reason her smell would be on his bed was if she'd been there.  And the only reason he would have her there is for sex.  Plus there was that taunt she'd thrown at him just before the demon showed up.  That the bite mark on her neck was from him.  He couldn't bite humans without their permission.  Without any intention of pain.  Which meant she'd either let him feed off of her, or it had happened during sex.  Sex with Willow.

"What smell?  I don't wear perfume--"

"I know.  Not that kind of smell.  Your scent.  You."  He walked closer, his eyes burning into hers.  "You slept with him."  Well, here was the moment of truth.  If she denied it, then it was his Willow that had slept with him.  Past him.  A vampire could go crazy thinking about this.

"Slept with you?" she laughed.  "I didn't sleep with you."  She started laughing even harder.  "I have a girlfriend, thank you very much."

"Yeah, Tara," he said dismissively.  "Okay, so maybe you didn't sleep with him.  But, how did you know I wasn't your Spike?"

She shrugged, as if it was obvious.  "Dunno.  Ever since that thing with Faith stealing Buffy's body, Tara's been teaching me how to be more aware.  See things not normally visible, that kind of thing.  What time are you from?"  She was watching him curiously, as if he was a puzzle needing solved.

"Doesn't matter," he answered.  "You still haven't told me exactly what happened last night.  And I'm getting tired of asking."

"Must be the future then, and you don't want to mess with the time line."  Noticing his increasingly impatient look, she hurriedly added, "Okay, okay.  You... our Spike, tried to kiss me."

"Kiss you?" he snapped.  "What the hell is going on here?  I swear, I'm going to kill you when I get back to my time," he told her.

Her eyes narrowed at him.  "Don't threaten me."

She was suddenly growing a backbone?  "That wasn't a threat," he told her, "it was a promise."

She got right in his face, and Spike was quite impressed.  "I don't like you."

"Feeling's mutual," he shot back.

"Yeah?  Then why did you try to kiss me?" she smirked.

"That's what I'd like to know."  He shoved his finger against her chest.  "You.  You did this.  You came back here, and you screwed with things.  Now I'm-- bloody hell!"  He kicked the chair, putting a sizeable mark in the wood along the bottom, and stormed out of the crypt.

~~~*~~~

Spike found his other self at the Bronze, drinking a beer.  He watched himself, feeling an odd sense of wrongness as he neared him.  Staying at a distance seemed the best bet.  So he sat down on a stool in a corner, and watched.  He found himself to be rather boring.

And petulant.

Do I really look like that? he thought.  Being faced with the unabashed truth, he had to concede that he did indeed look like a pouty child.  He clenched his jaw, resolving never to clench his-- bloody hell.

Past Spike left a few minutes later, rudely shoving through the crowd as he passed.  He was lucky he didn't set off the implant, Spike thought with a snort.  There was a terrible thought.  What if Past Spike's implant set off *his* implant?  Nah, that was unlikely.  Still, best to be careful.

For want of anything better to do, Spike followed him.  William, as he decided to think of him, cut through the park, jumped up on a bench and flung his beer bottle at a tree.  Spike snorted again at his dramatics.  Drama queen.

William suddenly turned and faced him, snarling and charging.  Spike, not being drunk, easily stepped out of the way.  William fell face first into the grass with a growl.  Spike felt that sense of wrongness growing stronger.  And he suddenly knew that they couldn't have any sort of contact whatsoever, if they did, something terrible was going to happen.

As soon as he was slightly away from himself, he felt a lessening of the doom and panic.  He stood in plain sight, letting William see him.  Their eyes locked, and William groaned.

"Great.  Now what's the Hellmouth throwing at me?  Evil clones?" William bit out.

"Nope, time travelers."  When William merely blinked at him blearily, Spike rolled his eyes.  "Get up, you drunken fool."  He sat down on the bench, staying away from William, while remaining close enough to talk.  "And tell me what the hell you're doing with Willow.  Did you sleep with her?"

William grinned.  "You're from her time."  He sat down on the opposite side of the bench, his expression becoming solemn.  "Is she... is she all right?  She was in pain... and she couldn't breathe--"

Spike nodded curtly.  "She's fine... for now.  But if you don't leave her alone, she won't be.  Don't sleep with her again."

"Did she tell you that?  That we slept together?"  He sounded rather incredulous.

"No," Spike admitted, wondering if maybe he'd been wrong after all.  "But, she's evasive enough to make me suspicious.  That, and I smelled her all over your... bed."  Spike turned toward his alter ego.  "If you haven't shagged her, then how do you explain that?"

William rolled his eyes.  "I'm not a bloody animal, you know.  I got drunk, and I passed out.  She--"

"Helped you to bed," Spike said with a sigh.  "That's what she said too."  Spike eyed his younger self, wondering if he was telling the truth.  He should be able to tell, this was him, after all, but he couldn't.  William seemed sincere, still, he decided he'd better warn him off anyway.  "Keep your hands off of her."

"Seems to me that it's none of your business.  If I want to shag Willow, from this time or your time, I'll damn well do it.  Just because you're not man enough to take her."  He snorted contemptuously.  "I've heard about you, you pansy-assed Angel wannabe.  Lusting after the slayer like a bloody ponce."

"And you're not lusting after Willow?  Not threatening her girlfriend?  I know you, William.  I am you.  I know how you think.  As soon as Willow told you about Buffy, you decided to replace her with someone else.  And Willow just happened to be there.  I'm not going to let you use her," Spike bit out.

"Sod off," William told him pleasantly.

"You're taking advantage of her, you sot.  She just lost all her friends.  Only thing she has left is Tara, so just back off."  William opened his mouth to say something, but Spike cut him off.  "If you care anything about her, then you'll bloody well leave her alone."

"She's got me.  Or she will have in time.  You're not going to be around forever.  I'm changing things.  No more of this Buffy crap.  I'm killing her at the first opportunity."

Spike held his temper in check, though he wanted nothing more than to punch himself in the face.  "You touch her, and the world will get torn to hell.  Literally."

Spike could see the reluctant agreement in William's eyes and sighed in relief.

"Fine, whatever," William said.  He regarded Spike curiously, obviously searching for something.  "She's right... you have no clue."  He shook his head almost sadly.

Spike glared at his younger self.  "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," he said dismissively.  "So, what's all this anger over Willow about?  Want her for yourself?"

Spike sat back with a laugh.  "Not bloody likely.  She's only a friend.  And she's got the witch."

William's eyes narrowed at the mention of Tara.  "Stutter Girl."  He shook his head in disgust.  "She's not what Willow needs."

"And you are?" Spike shot back.

William shrugged.  "Maybe."  He leaned forward, watching Spike intensely.  "Don't tell me you've never wondered what she hides under those fuzzy clothes she's so fond of?  Or maybe you want to hear her scream your name when she--"

"No," Spike snapped, lying through his teeth.  "And the fact that you have, only came about because she told you about Buffy.  Don't change things too much," he warned his younger self, "you might not like how things turn out."

William grinned arrogantly.  "We'll see."  And then he was alone.

(March 2000)

Spike stood up, shaking his head.  People had a habit of disappearing on him, and it was getting annoying.  He shrugged and headed back to his crypt.  He had a date with a bottle of whiskey there.

As he walked, he wondered if his future self was right.  Sure, he'd first set his sights on Willow because of the impending Buffy fiasco, but it was more than that, wasn't it?  He didn't just want Willow to keep himself occupied, or to keep Buffy from worming her skinny blonde self into his heart.  That wasn't all there was to his attraction to the redhead.

He enjoyed being with her.  She was-- what?  Smart.  Pretty.  Funny... in an odd way.  The sex was great.  But, those were all generic reasons for being with someone.  The same could be said about a lot of women, but he'd chosen Willow.  Now he had a burning need to find out why.  If it was simply for replacing Buffy, he could have moved on to someone else.  Actually, it might have been better if he had.

There was still Harmony.  A shudder escaped him at the thought of the blonde bimbo he'd shacked up with.  Loneliness had driven him to her.  She had a nice... well, to be truthful, she had a body.  She was female.  And she didn't have much of a brain.  When searching for the Gem of Amarrah, it had been essential that he find someone not interested in possessing it.  Harmony had seemed perfect.  Big on sex, little on brains.  Basically, she was good at following orders.

As he neared his crypt, a heartbeat alerted him to someone inside.  Shades of the first time he'd slept with Willow came to mind, and he shoved the door open, hoping she was back.  Though it had only been a few hours, he missed her.  Everyone from this time hit first and asked questions later, it got boring.  Conversation was sometimes a nice thing to have.  He liked being with people... he wasn't the loner type, and since being chipped, he'd been forced to be alone.  Plus Dru leaving him, and all, but mostly, he blamed the Initiative for his situation.

He inhaled, smelling Willow.  This wasn't the fading smell from earlier, this was the real thing.  He stepped inside, his eyes falling on his bed.  She was curled up under the covers, asleep.

Spike grinned and closed the door quietly.  He removed his duster, tossing it over the back of his chair, and took off his t-shirt as well.  Still watching her, he sat in the chair and toed off his boots.  He debated on whether or not to shuck his jeans, but figured, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Naked now, he vacated the chair for greener pastures.  His eyes slid over her, noting her bright red hair, pale skin, and her wide lips curled up slightly in a smile.  He wondered what she was dreaming about.

His hand slid across her cheek, his thumb rubbing lightly on her forehead.  She sighed and moved closer, her smile widening.  He leaned forward and kissed her softly, before pulling the blanket down.  Sadly, she was fully dressed, but he would quickly be taking care of that.  His hand was poised above her shirt when his eyes were caught by her hair.  Her short hair.  Her now hair.

Flinging himself away from his bed, he grabbed his clothes and shoved them on.  His pants were a bit uncomfortable now, but he was sure that would go away as soon as he woke her up and they started arguing.  Damn her.  Why couldn't she be the other her?  Why did it have to be this Willow?

"Bloody hell!"  Fully dressed again, he sat down and lit a cigarette.  Calming down would be good.  Otherwise he was likely to either kill her or shag her... and he wasn't sure which choice sounded better at the moment.  Why was she here?  She had never come here.  Ever.  She didn't even talk to him, let alone visit him.  Christ, he thought, must be about that incident last night.

They'd been fighting a demon.  Six vampires had decided to ally themselves to it, and Spike, having a grand old time, took all of them on alone.  He'd gotten separated from the others, and was fighting alone.  Or so he'd thought.  After dusting five of them, he'd spun around, looking for the last one.  Willow was there, the vampire advancing on her.  She looked scared to death, her whole body was shaking under her orange shirt and blue-jean skirt.

The vampire grinned and reached for her.  Spike dove at him, but was surprised to find himself landing in a cloud of dust.  He looked up to see Willow grinning, practically jumping up and down in her excitement.

"I got one," she giggled.  "That was so... cool."  She reached down to help him up, still gushing over her one staking.   "Buffy was right.  Act helpless and they'll fall for it every time.  Stupid vamps."

Spike stared at her.  She was this excited over staking one measly little vampire?  Her eyes were all wide and shiny, her grin boundless.  Her hair, shorter than he liked, but still flattering, blew softly around her face.  Her skin was all flushed and heated.  She looked absolutely beautiful.

Riding high on adrenaline, and hoping she was too, Spike grabbed her by the shoulders and lowered his lips to hers.  Before he could kiss her, she shoved him away.

"What are you doing?" she practically shouted.  She planted her hands on her hips and watched him warily.  "Are you possessed or something?  'Cause... what was that?"

Shaking his head at himself for being so stupid, Spike lit a cigarette.  "What was what?"  He acted innocent and nonchalant, but knew he wasn't fooling her at all.

She headed back toward the others, tossing a confused look over her shoulder at him.

Spike dropped his cigarette to the crypt floor and stomped on it.  He'd have to... sweep or something, he thought absently, the floor was littered with cigarette butts.

Standing up, and feeling extremely grateful for not having made the same mistake as last night, Spike stomped over to Willow.  She was still asleep, still smiling, and still pissing him off.  He shook her shoulder unceremoniously.  "Hey... "  She didn't stir, so he shook her harder.  "Wake up, Witch."

Willow grumbled and yawned.  "What?" she whispered, snuggling back under his blanket and falling right back to sleep.

He stared at her for a few seconds, then chuckled.  Shaking her wasn't doing any good, so he grinned and nibbled on her ear, unable to resist tasting her.  "Willow.  Wake up."

"No," she whined.  "I was in the middle of a good dream."  She yawned again, opening her eyes.  Looking straight at his face, she groaned.  "And, apparently, I'm still dreaming."

He regarded her with amusement.  "Dreaming about me, pet?"

Willow's eyes flew open and locked with his.  "Spike."  Sitting up, she held the blanket to her chest and stared around her with wide eyes.  "What am I doing here?  What--"

Spike lifted an eyebrow at her.  "That's what I'd like to know."  He took his bottle of whiskey from the table drawer and sat down.  Twisting off the cap, he watched her watch him.  When it didn't look like she was about to stop staring at him anytime soon, he held the bottle out to her.

She shook her head sharply.  "No, thanks.  Last time I drank I did a spell, and Buffy ended up... " her eyes went even wider, if it was possible, and she suddenly looked scared.  "So, how about them Broncos?"

Spike, in the middle of taking a drink, almost choked on the whiskey.  "What did you say?"  He coughed a few times and wiped his mouth.  Willow--his Willow--had asked him the same exact thing earlier.

Willow shrugged dismissively.  "Something Riley once said."

Spike rolled his eyes.  "Spare me the Captain Cardboard-isms."  And then what she'd started to say, hit him.  "Buffy ended up... wanting to marry me?"  He downed a fair amount of whiskey and glared at her.  "You know," he said conversationally, "I wanted to kill you more than ever after that little stunt.  At your little meetings, I'd sit there and think up different ways to do it."  He ignored her frightened scrambling from his bed, and took another drink.  "My favorite way, I think, was--"

"Okay, so, I gotta go, and, um... bye!"  She ran past him, squealing in fright when he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Spike rolled his eyes and pulled her back in front of him.  She stared at him, her heart beating triple time, making him feel all kinds of good.  "I said I wanted to, not can... or even would if I could now."

Her eyebrows rose in disbelief.  "You wouldn't kill me?  Please, like I'm going to believe that."

He shrugged, not really caring if she believed him or not.  "Why are you here, Red?"

She slowly pulled her hand from his, and paced away, trying to cover her nervousness.  "Um, I was curious.  I came here to ask you a question, but you weren't here.  Then, I ran into someone else and he said something that got me thinking."  She paused in her pacing and spun around toward him.  Her mouth opened to say something, then shut again.

Spike held the bottle out to her, and she took it wordlessly, taking first a sip, then a gulp, then a few more gulps.  He lit a cigarette, watching her.  It wasn't long before the coughing started.  Unable to stop, she sat on the floor, her head between her bent knees, trying to take huge gulps of air into her starved lungs, which of course started her coughing again.

"I think I'm back to wanting to kill you," he said with a chuckle.

"Ha ha," she croaked out, not raising her head.  "Next time, warn me.  Not that there'll be a next time.  'Cause there won't be." Her voice sounded husky... sexier than ever.

He joined her on the floor, taking the whiskey from her limp hand.  "Sure, love."  He knew damn well that he would be with her again... no matter what it took.  "So... the reason you're here?"

"First tell me why you threatened Tara."  She lifted her head and looked straight at him.

Spike's eyebrows dipped down into a thunderous frown.  "What?" he asked in disbelief.  "I never threatened Stutter Girl.  What the hell has she been telling you?"

Willow's frown matched his.  "That you told her to get out of Sunnydale or you'd kill her."  She looked a little unsure, but gained confidence as she went on.  "You've also been following her.  I've seen you.  Um, that time you knocked me down?"

He jumped to his feet, anger radiating off of him, and showing in his every movement.  "I can't believe this crap!  Are you and that damn group of yours going to blame me for everything?  Running into you was a coincidence, it had nothing to do with Pasty Face."

Willow jumped to her feet, just as angry as he was.  "Her name is Tara.  And she doesn't lie."  She swallowed hard when he got in her face threateningly.

"Are you calling me a liar, pet?"  His voice was low and dangerous sounding, causing wonderful waves of fear to pour off of her.  "Are you so quick to believe her?  You might want to think about that a bit."  Planting the seeds of doubt in Willow's mind was easier than he'd thought it would be.  All it took was one small statement.  And a few lies.

So, the blonde witch had told Willow of his threats, had she?  He hadn't thought her brave enough to disregard his warning not to tell anyone.  Obviously he'd misjudged her.  His eyes narrowed in fury.  Damn bitch was going to ruin all his plans.

Willow was blinking at him in confusion, not a bit of understanding on her face.  "Why?"

Spike took a drag off his forgotten cigarette, and watched her.  "Not my place to say.  Ask her."  He paced away, acting unconcerned, while inside he was practically jumping for joy.  At this rate, Willow would be his within a few weeks.

She shook her head, trying to clear it.  "I, uh... oh, I also wanted to know what last night was about.  Did you-- why did you try to kiss me?"

"Lot of reasons, pick one."  He tossed that out there with all the confidence of an arrogant vampire... something he used to be.  Another swig of whiskey helped to build that arrogance.

"Huh?"  Was her brilliant reply.

Spike almost laughed at the bewildered expression on her face.  "Why do I do anything, pet?  To torture the slayer, for fun, or because I want to... choose one."

She stiffened, turning her back on him.  "Right.  To torture Buffy.  Well, from now on, don't.  Okay?"

Spike heard the humiliation and--was that hurt?--in her voice, and sought to soothe it.  He hadn't meant to hurt her.  He thought she'd be happy if he discounted it as a means to hurt Buffy.  "It wasn't that one," he said quietly, half hoping she hadn't heard him.

She turned back to him, her green eyes brighter than usual, her breathing slightly shallower than normal.  She was studying him curiously, and openly.  She was drunk.  After the little bit she drank?  Lightweight.

"Spike?"

"What?" he ground out.  The way she was looking at him, coupled with the way she kept biting her lip, made him want to grab her and kiss her soundly.  And more.

Her eyes finally rose back to his, and she asked a question he knew she wouldn't have had the nerve to if she wasn't plastered. "D-- do you... like me?"  Even still, she stuttered it out in her charmingly shy manner.

More than anything, Spike answered silently, though I'll be damned if I know why.  That answer wouldn't go over real well, he figured, so he played dumb.  "What are you talking about?"

She shrugged, giving him a goofy smile.  A giggle escaped her as she stumbled over to his bed and hopped up, nearly falling on her ass.  She caught herself just in time and sat there swinging her legs.  "You accused me of sleeping with him."  She frowned and shook her head.  "I mean he did.  Accused me.  She... slept with him... I think."  She turned her questioning face to his and waited expectantly.

Spike had no idea what she was talking about.  At first, he'd thought she was talking about him and future Willow, but how could she know about that?  Unless she ran into future him and he told her... bloody hell.

"Who slept with who, love?" he asked, striding closer to her.  He remembered future Willow telling him that she'd been wary of him during this time, but she'd also called him a hottie... so she'd obviously been attracted to him.  Hoping to take advantage of that, and her inebriation, he stepped between her legs, resting his hands on either side of her.

She hardly even noticed, she was so busy looking at the ceiling, trying to find answers there.  "I slept with him?" she tried, then, "You slept with her."  Her face cleared and she smiled at him.  "Yeah, that last one."

He grinned in amusement.  "Her?  Does the poor girl have a name?"

She laughed, her eyes twinkling in merriment.  "Of course, otherwise she'd go through life being called, 'Hey you!' which would kinda suck.  Like vampires."

Spike rolled his eyes and groaned.  "That was bad, pet.  Really bad."

Her grin widened.  "You don't like my jokes, then bite me."

Spike rested his head on her thighs.  "Give it up, please, you're killing me."

"But you're already dead--" Spike's finger on her lips kept her from making another bad joke.  She pouted and nipped at his finger.

Spike's eyes lost all traces of amusement.  Desire licked through him, like a stray flame from her fire.  She was heat and warmth, and Willow.  She was everything he wanted at the moment, and yet, he couldn't touch her.  Couldn't have her.

Sure you can, his mind cajoled, she's drunk.

She was also attracted to him.  It was obvious in the way her heart sped up when he touched her.  The way her breath caught when he looked at her.  She wanted him.  He wanted her.  So why the bloody hell wasn't he taking advantage?

Because he didn't want her that way.  He wanted her sober and willing.  He wanted her to remember.

Even so, when she suddenly looked at him seriously, and lifted a hand to his face, Spike had to fight himself not to grab her and shag her into oblivion.  Her thumb traced the scar on his eyebrow, her fingers sliding across his cheek.  Her warm touch sent threads of passion through him.  He shifted slightly, his hands tightening on her waist.

She pushed her hands through his hair, and leaned down, pressing her lips to his.  Giving up, Spike's own hands threaded through her hair and held her still as he slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting, and devouring, moaning as her tongue played with his.  His mouth covered hers hungrily, the kiss sending new tendrils of desire through him.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should stop this.  Step away from her.  Move back.  Something, anything.  But he couldn't bring himself to.

You're cheating on Willow, he thought to himself.

He broke the kiss, pulling away.  She was panting, her eyes wide with lust, her face flushed, and he knew he was hurting her by rejecting her, but he also knew he couldn't do this with her.  It felt wrong.  The timing was off... she wasn't sober, he didn't want to take advantage of her.  He told himself all sorts of excuses, too bad he didn't believe any of them.  The plain, simple truth, was that he was faithful to the woman he lo-- was with.  And that was Willow.  Future Willow.

In the meantime, this Willow was pushing him away from her, and jumping off his bed.  She stumbled to the door, and out into the night, collapsing on the grass a few feet away.

"Willow--" Spike began, helping her to her feet, but she cut him off.

"Don't.  Please?  I feel bad enough already."

She refused to look at him, and Spike was sure he'd lost her.  Now she would turn into future Willow and hate him even more than before, all because he couldn't keep his hands and mouth to himself.  But her next words blew him away.

"I don't know why I did it... I shouldn't have kissed you.  I'm sorry."  She looked ready to cry.

Spike sighed heavily.  He was all ready to toss her an excuse, thereby absolving himself of all guilt, but he just couldn't do it.  Damn it.  It was easy, just say it.  'You're drunk.'  See?  Easy to say.  Just do it.  "It's my fault," he said instead, groaning quietly at his poofish behavior.

Willow smiled thankfully at him, but shook her head.  "No, it's not.  I kissed you, this time.  It's my fault.  I've, uh, I've gotta go.  Buffy will be worried."

Spike rolled his eyes.  "Like she can pull herself away from G.I. Blow long enough to care.  Hold on, I'll walk you home.  Something happens to you I'm sure she'll blame me somehow."

Willow chuckled at his description of Riley and nodded.  "Thanks."

Well, he thought, this was a start.  Now all he had to do was get her to like him when she wasn't drunk, and then in a year and a half he'd have her.

~Part: 12~

(October 2001)

Spike stood up, confused when William suddenly wasn't there anymore.  It didn't take him long to realize he was back in his own time.  Hopefully.  He took off running, toward his crypt, finding Willow on the ground, the demon, once again in Oz's form, choking her.  Her heartbeat was so faint, he could barely hear it.

With a growl, he vamped out and charged the demon, knocking it off Willow.  She gasped for breath, and Spike felt relief flood through him just as a fist hit him in the face.  Oz, little as he was, wasn't doing too much damage to the much taller vampire.

The demon snarled and morphed into Buffy.  Complete with slayer strength? Spike wondered.

She attacked and Spike gave back as good as he got.  He punched her in the face, following up with a swift kick to her chest.  Buffy's little body went flying, landing on top of a headstone.  She jumped back up with a snarl and flew at him.  Spike dodged her fist, but when her leg swung out, sweeping his own out from under him, he went down, hard.  The demon straddled him, and a stake suddenly slid out of her sleeve.

"Gosh, Spike.  Isn't this how you always imagined it?  Fantasized about it?" Buffy asked him.

Spike flipped her over, took the stake out of her hand and positioned it over her heart.  "No.  This is."  He shoved the stake into her chest.

She looked down at her chest.  Up at him.  One eyebrow went up disdainfully.  "Really, Spike.  That never works."  She morphed into Harmony.  "Right, Blondie Bear?"

Spike punched her as hard as he could.  Reminding him about Harmony was just plain tasteless.

"What is it with you and stabbing women in the heart?  You know, if I were Freud--"

Spike punched her again.  "Yeah, well, you're not.  So just shut up, and die!"

She shrugged, shoved him off of her and stood up.  "Not yet.  Until next time.  Ta-ta!" she sing-songed, and then was gone.

Spike stared after her for a moment, then went to help Willow.  She was sitting in the grass, coughing and rubbing her neck.  Spike knelt down to examine the damage, wincing when he saw the chain of bruises lining her throat.  Willow had more lives than a Roparch demon and a cat put together.  Someone up there loves her, he thought.

She allowed him to help her up, then pushed him slightly away.  Her eyes closed and her hands wrapped around her throat.  Not thirty seconds later, she opened her eyes and removed her hands.  Her neck was almost fully healed, all that was left were faint bruises.  She grinned proudly.

Spike scowled and moved away from her.  "I told you not to do anymore spells.  Christ, woman, are you trying to kill me?"  Now that he was back, and they were both safe, he had every intention of following through on his promise to kill Willow.  He grabbed her wrist, ignoring her efforts to pull away, and dragged her to her house.  The demon knew about his crypt as well as her house, so he figured they may as well be comfortable while staying safe.

"Spike, let go," she whispered.  Her voice wasn't quite as healed as the outside of her throat appeared to be.  Good, now he didn't have to listen to her denials and lies and protests.

"Not gonna happen, Witch.  Do you have any idea what I just went through?" he looked over his shoulder at her.  She had the good sense to look guilty.

"You didn't run into yourself, did you?" she whispered, trying so hard not to sound as panicked as she obviously was.

"Yeah.  I did.  Had a nice long talk about... things.  I also had a little run-in with Buffy.  And you.  Seems I'm being quite the pest.  Wouldn't have anything to do with you, now would it?" he tossed at her.

"No," she mumbled.  "Not me."

He stopped walking for a second, and stood looking up at the moon, a sigh working its way past his lips.  He sure seemed to be doing a lot of sighing lately, he thought absently.  A quick glance at her and he saw how close she was to falling asleep on her feet.  He swung her into his arms, ignoring her whispered protests, and his own nagging thoughts, and continued to her house.

"I sure hope your parents aren't home, 'cause they're not gonna like me."  He looked down at her, but she was asleep already.

He got to her house a few minutes before dawn, waking her up long enough to get her keys from her, then went inside.  Her parents weren't home, he was happy to see.  The sun started to rise just as he laid her in her bed.  She sighed happily, and snuggled under the covers. Spike grabbed a blanket out of a closet in the hall and hung it in front of the French doors.

He pulled her shoes off, but left the rest of her clothes on her, sat down in her wicker chair and settled in for an uncomfortable day of sleep.

(October 2001)

"Really?" Willow asked, taking a bite of her toast.  She filled a mug with coffee and handed it to Spike.  It made him slightly nervous to see that her voice and throat were completely healed this morning.  Had she done more magick?  Maybe he was getting paranoid... nah.  Just cautious.

"Yeah, really," he answered, taking the mug, and sitting at the kitchen table.  He grinned at her as she took a long drink from her coffee, and sat across from him.

"Oh, this is bad.  This is so bad.  I mean, one person knowing was risky enough, but two people knowing could be catastrophic."

"Aren't you overreacting a bit?"  Spike sat back, trying to work out the kinks that had developed from his chair bed.

"No.  No, I'm just enough reacting.  Now that we both know... past us, I mean, what's going to happen?"  She paused, thinking about the consequences, then suddenly switched topics.  "I really knew?  I could do that?"  She managed to look impressed, envious and wary all at once.

He snorted in amusement.  Oh yeah, she was focused.  "Yeah.  Tara was teaching you.  What I want to know is... what changed to make you want to learn?  Or, to make her teach you?"

This whole time thing didn't make sense.  Things were different, yet nothing had changed.  Why?  And how had Willow gone back in the first place?  And again after that?  His trip was a result of Willow's relocation spell gone wrong, he knew, but what about hers?  And why had the shape-shifting demon killed Buffy and the others?  Why hadn't it killed them?  It had certainly had enough opportunities.

All excellent questions.  Unfortunately, they were questions he didn't have answers for.

"I don't know," Willow finally answered.  "I was wondering the same thing."  She finished the last bite of her toast and took a huge gulp of her coffee, looking like she was preparing to go into battle.  "So, um... what did you two talk about?" she asked casually, busying herself with cleaning up her crumbs and plate.

"We two who?" he asked, knowing full well who she was talking about.  Her shoes squeaked lightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, reminding Spike of past Willow's green shoes.  He cast a glance down at her feet and saw plain white tennis shoes.  Normal shoes.  A normal pair of black jeans too.  And just a plain ole black T-Shirt.  Odd that he hadn't noticed her change in style.  Of course, he'd been too busy with Buffy to notice anyone else.  He almost missed Willow's eclectic wardrobe.

She finished washing her plate and set it in the drainer, turning around to face him.  "You and you.  And you and me.  You know, this is starting to get really confusing."

"Yeah it is.  Call him William.  We'll call past you... what?"

She blew a stubborn lock of hair out of her eyes, and shrugged.  "I don't know."

"Well, what's your middle name?" he asked reasonably.

She sat across from him again.  "Don't have one."

"What?  Everybody has a middle name," he told her skeptically.

She shrugged irritably.  "Yeah?  Well the powers that be didn't see fit to give me one.  Or my parents didn't.  So, if everybody has one, what's yours, Spike?"

"The.  As in William The Bloody."

Willow's snort of laughter rang through the kitchen, making Spike's lips twitch in amusement.  "Cute."  He grinned impudently.  "Very funny."  She kicked him lightly under the table.  "You think you're a comedian.  Key word being 'Think'."

"Yeah, yeah.  How about Rose?  Short for Rosenberg?"

She considered it for a second then shook her head.  "Nah, too... um, what's the word?  Oh, yeah.  Wrong."

"It's just a temporary name," he told her reasonably.  "You got a hang-up about names, don't you?"

"Fine," she said irritably, "let's call her Robin.  As in Red Robin.  As in back off or I'll call him Vanilla instead of William.  Okay... Mr. Bloody?"  She grinned cheekily.

"Fine," he grumbled.  "What were we talking about anyway, when we got sidetracked?  Oh, right.  Robin and William."

Willow snickered.  "Robin Williams?"  Seeing his impatient glare, she shut up.  "God, wake up on the wrong side of the chair, did we?"

"No, *we* didn't.  *I* did, and I'm sore and hungry and tired and... whining like a wanker, and stopping now."  He'd spent quite a bit of that time watching her sleep, though she didn't need to know that.  Sleep hadn't come for a while, even after the sun rose, so he'd occupied himself by roaming around her room, then the rest of the house.

He'd found the forgotten blue panties as he wandered back to her room.  An urge to wake her up and demand answers had come and gone.  He'd leave her alone about it, and hopefully she'd tell him in her own time.  If she didn't, then he'd demand answers.

After returning to the uncomfortable chair in the corner, he'd watched her sleep.  She tossed and turned a lot before sitting up, throwing the covers off, and undressing.  Apparently unaware of his presence.  Obviously he hadn't been the only uncomfortable one.

The chair had become even more uncomfortable after that.  So much so that he'd considered joining her in her bed.  Platonically, of course.

Yeah, right.

"So... spill, blondie.  What else happened?"  Willow was watching him closely, trying to figure out how much he knew.

"Let's see."  He ticked off each item on his fingers.  "I ran into Buffy, went to Giles', got accused of stalking you, went to see my worse half, ran into you, found out a few things, and then ran into William, argued a bit, and then I was here again."  So there, he thought.  She was less than forthcoming about her trips in time, let's see how she likes it.

"Okaaaaaay... so, what'd Buffy have to say?  What was it like seeing her again?  Was she okay?  Of course, she was okay, stupid question.  Stalking me?  What?"  This last part seemed to have just registered in her mind.

He scowled, remembering William's threats toward Tara and his less than cavalier attitude toward Willow.  "Seems William's become obsessed with you.  I'm pretty sure that telling William about Buffy was a bad idea.  I think he's decided to replace her with you."

"Oh.  That could be bad, like, catastrophic bad.  You were tortured by Glory.  You saved Buffy, and... and Dawn, and the whole world in a way.  What have I done?  Wait, what?  Me?  No, see... there's no problem.  Why would he want me?  No reason, problem solved."  She grinned happily.

He stretched back in his chair, watching her.  She thought she was being all secretive and clever.  Had she no idea what a terrible liar she was?

She cleared her throat nervously, obviously not liking the way he was staring at her.  Her fingers played along the edge of the table.  "You know, I didn't mean for anything like this to happen.  I really didn't.  I don't even know how I went back.  Do you think the shapeshifter sent me back?"

He shrugged.  "Who knows?"

She looked past him for a second, before letting her eyes settle on him again.  "Um, so what did William have to say?  About stuff?"

Spike almost choked on a mouthful of coffee.  Subtlety was definitely not her strong suit.  "Your secret is still safe, pet.  He didn't tell me anything.  Even when I flat out asked him."

She smiled in relief, but tried to cover it in confusion.  "What secret?  I don't have a secret, there's no secret, Spike.  Anyone ever tell you you're paranoid?"

"I know you slept with him."  He dropped that bombshell hoping to shock the truth out of her.  And from the sudden paleness of her face, it looked like it was working.

"Slept with?  With you?  With Spike?  With William?  No.  No, no I didn't sleep with anyone.  Well, yes, I did, but we slept.  Sleep was had.  Not sex.  There was no sex.  Not with us."  She was looking everywhere but at him, and he had his answer.

Willow had had sex with William.  With him.  He wasn't sure how it made him feel to know that Willow desired him enough to sleep with him.  She'd wanted him.

But then again, his rational mind insisted, it was probably out of grief and desperation.  Not out of any real feelings she had for him.  He was a vampire, after all.  And she had a girlfriend that she loved.

And now that he thought about it, her hesitation in telling him was most likely a result of embarrassment, and shame.  She regretted it.

"And the bitemark?" he asked, hiding his sudden anger.

She looked panicked for a second, then her face cleared and she let out a little laugh.  "Oh, that.  Funny story really.  Um, see, when you were drunk... I told you about that, right?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, um, see, you fell, and you hit your head... on a tombstone.  There was blood everywhere, lots and lots of it.  Everywhere.  And you were passed out.  Drunk.  You needed to feed, so I let you drink from me.  'Cause... on account of the blood loss," she finished pitifully.

Spike kept silent, dragging out her misery for a full minute.  "Thanks."  There wasn't even a trace of amusement or disbelief in his voice.

She looked up, obviously surprised at his easy acceptance of her explanation.  "You're welcome?"

He got up and refilled both of their mugs with coffee.  They sat in silence, each one lost in their own thoughts.

(October 2001)

Spike shut off the TV and headed upstairs to Willow's room.  She'd gone to bed a few hours before, leaving him to late night TV watching.  He hadn't actually seen anything on the screen, he was too lost in thought to pay any attention to the actors or storylines, but he'd kept it on for noise.

He didn't like silence, didn't like being alone.  That was what had his thoughts so occupied.  He was alone again.  The woman he loved was dead.

Willow, for reasons known only to her, had slept with William.  And Willow was basically alone.

She had Tara, of course, but she'd slept with *him*, while still in a relationship with Tara.

He pushed Willow's bedroom door open, and stood there watching her.  She was so beautiful.  Her red hair spread out on her pillow was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen.

Lust and desire surged through him.  He wanted her.  Wanted to hold her, touch her.  He moved further into the room, shutting the door behind him and toeing off his boots.  The wicker chair wasn't very inviting looking.  No, but that bed was.  With her in it, anyway.  He sat down in the chair, watching her and considering his options.

One; he could sleep in the chair and wake up stiff and uncomfortable.  Two; he could sleep on the couch, or her parents bed, and run the chance of her parents coming home.  Or three; he could slip into bed with Willow and wake up refreshed with someone next to him.

He hated being alone.  He was tired of being alone.

He stood up, divesting himself of his clothes, and climbed into bed beside Willow.  Pulling back the blanket, he admired her perfect body.  There was a small round scar on her right shoulder from the crossbow bolt, and what looked like a faded bite mark on her left breast, but was probably something else.  Had better be something else.  None of the scars detracted from her beauty, however, she was still perfect.  Curved in all the right places.  The girl had one hell of a body, he thought with a grin.

She stirred slightly at the loss of her covers, so he laid back and covered them both up.  Almost immediately, she curled into him, wrapping an arm around him and laying her head on his chest.  Spike was suddenly wondering how he was supposed to get any sleep.

(October 2001)

"Spike?"

Spike jerked awake as the girl curled around him called his name.  He'd been in the middle of a good dream when her voice penetrated his sleeping mind.  Damn it.  He'd been dreaming about Past Willow and Future Willow fighting over him.  At least I'm wanted in my dreams, he thought dryly.  "What?  I'm trying to sleep."

"And therein lies the problem.  I was quite happy being asleep until I rolled over and found a cold, dead guy in my bed.  Why are you in my bed?"

He groaned silently.  He wasn't about to tell Willow that his feelings for her were more than friendly these days.  That he'd been steadily moving away from his feelings for Buffy and toward her.  He lusted after her.  Desired her.  Cared for her.

Am I really that fickle? he thought.  As soon as one love left, he went out and found another one?  No, he didn't think so.  There was just something about Willow that drew him to her.  He hadn't noticed it until now, when there was no one left to distract him.  That sounded horrible, but really wasn't.  Willow was just one of those people that didn't command attention.  Like Buffy did.  Or Dru.

The object of his thoughts sighed lightly, her warm breath fanning across his cheek.  "Spike... hello?"  She shook him roughly.

"What?" he growled, opening his eyes to glare at her.

"Why are you sleeping in my bed, Goldilocks?"

Spike rolled away from her and settled back in to sleep.  "My back and neck refuse to be subjected to that bloody chair again, and I doubt very much that your parents would appreciate finding a dead guy in their bed, or on their couch, should they come home."  He draped an arm over his eyes, effectively stopping the conversation.

He could just imagine how much eye rolling Willow was doing at the moment, as she slipped out of bed.  He was disappointed that she was leaving him alone, but not overly so.  She was probably just putting on more clothes or something.  He grinned, lifting his arm surreptitiously to watch her.  Damn.  She slipped a robe on and headed out the door.

"Hey, where are you going?"

She didn't even spare him a glance.  "My parents' room."

Spike sat up, the blanket falling to his lap.  He'd enjoyed sleeping next to Willow.  Enjoyed the feel of her small warm body against his.  "Um, pet, won't they wonder why you're in there instead of in here?  What if they see me in here?"  He smirked and stretched lazily when she turned around.  "In all my naked glory."

She shrugged, unconcerned, and unaffected by his display.  "Won't happen.  They don't come in here, and even if they did, they'd probably think you were me."

Spike looked at her skeptically.  "Real observant people, are they?"

"They're who they are.  Good night."  She started to leave the room, but stopped and waggled her finger at him.  "Stay."   And then she was gone, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Spike waited a total of ten minutes before crawling into bed with her in her parent's room.  He fell asleep almost immediately.

(October 2001)

Willow woke up with a feeling of contentment.  She felt safe.  At home.  Not home, as in a place, but home, as in a feeling of rightness.

Spike, she thought.

Tara, her mind tossed back.

Her dream from last night came back to her and she flushed. William had shown up in Sunnydale and snuck into her bed while she slept, then made love to her.  She closed her eyes and stretched, grinning from ear to ear.  Spike was as good a dream lover as he was a real lover.

And then a thought struck her.  It had been a dream, hadn't it?

Her eyes flew open, greeted with a thankfully empty bed.  Her parent's bed.  Um, okay.  She was in her parent's room, at her house.  Oh yeah, Spike had crawled into bed with her, he just hadn't made love to her.

And that wasn't disappointment she felt.

So she had come in here, to get away from a naked Spike in her bed.  She'd slept alone after that.  And now she was alone in the house.  Not alone, she thought, hearing someone moving around downstairs.

It was Spike.  She didn't know how she knew, but she did.  And why was she so happy about Spike being there?  God, what had she been thinking?

About Spike.  Naked Spike.

Oh, boy.  She was even cheating on Tara in her dreams.  It was pretty obvious to her now.  She had feelings for Spike.  Big time love-ish type feelings.  Gushy feelings, she thought with a groan.  Why was she never satisfied with the person she was with?  She loved Tara, didn't she?  The answer was immediate.  Yes.  Absolutely loved her.  But she wasn't sure if she was in love with her anymore.

And Spike?  What was it that she felt for him?  Love?  Yes. In love?  Maybe.

Crap.

She threw the covers back, grabbed some clean clothes and jumped into the shower, vowing never to dream about Spike and sex again.

If only it were that easy.

~Part: 13~

(October 2001)

Spike watched Willow pace the small area, sighing for the tenth time in an hour.  "Will you stop that?" he griped.  "It's not helping."

She tossed him a glare and slumped against the sewer wall, oblivious of the gunk and goop that was now on her clothes.  "Where is it?  You're sure this was the spot?"  She gestured around them at the sewer juncture they were standing in.

"Positive," he answered from his spot by the north sewer.  "I was standing just over there," he pointed directly across from himself.  "She was there," he pointed to the center of the juncture.  "And she seemed to be praying to something right about where you're standing."

Willow pushed away from the wall, turning to look at it suspiciously.  "Okay, so I'm an evil shapeshifter... who do I pray to?"

He lifted his eyes from his perusal of the generous amount of leg showing from underneath her skirt, and shook his head.  "Got me.  As far as I know, they work alone."

"Well," she said exasperatedly.  "What did she say?  Anything that might help here, Spike.  I want to get this thing.  I want to kill her."  She carelessly knelt in front of the wall she'd just vacated, examining it closely.

He pushed away from the sewer tunnel entrance, and grabbed her arm, pulling her up beside him.  "We've been here an hour.  I don't think she's coming back.  Probably hasn't been back here since I found her."

Willow yanked her arm away from him.  "I'm staying.  This is the only lead we have."

Lighting a cigarette to cover his irritation with her sudden need to find the demon, he paced away from her.  "We've also got a whole shop full of books, a library, and a computer.  We can look things up.  Do research.  That kind of crap."

"To hell with research," she yelled angrily.  "This thing--this demon--killed everyone I know.  Everyone I cared about.  So don't tell me about taking my time and waiting, and looking things up... I want results.  Now!"  She kicked the wall in fury, not even wincing at the blow.

Spike watched her carefully.  Something was definitely wrong.  This afternoon, when she finally came downstairs, she seemed fine.  A little uncomfortable at facing someone she'd slept with earlier... only slept with, unfortunately, nothing more.  But as the day wore on, she grew anxious and frustrated with their lack of information regarding the shapeshifter.  She snapped at him at every turn, insulted him.  And once, she'd even hit him.

Well, pushed him out of her way, actually.  And she'd apologized immediately afterwards, but the fact that she'd done it at all, was in itself unusual.  Willow didn't do violence.  Except on demons... demons who weren't Spike or Angel.  Later, after she ate dinner, she accidentally knocked over her glass of water, spilling a small amount of liquid on the floor and table, but something inside her snapped, and she sent the glass and plate crashing to the floor where they shattered.

He watched her bend down to clean the mess up, and was surprised to hear her laughing.  Figuring it was her way of dealing with the loss of her friends, he left her alone, but since then, she'd done nothing but yell and shout, and laugh.  Everything but cry.

And that's when he remembered the spell she'd done on herself after coming home from the hospital.  "Willow, we're leaving."  Without waiting for an answer from her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her with him down the tunnel.  She tried to get free, but he held on, despite the twinge of pain in his head warning him not to hurt her.

"No, we're not.  You're free to go if you want, but I'm staying, now let go."  She yanked hard, and dug her heels into the slimy ground.  Her tennis shoes slipped, and she had to stop her tirade to catch herself.

"There's something wrong with you, damn it.  She's not coming back here, so let's just get-- ow!  Bloody hell, what was that for?"  She'd actually bitten him.  The witch had bitten him.  After examining the fleshy part of his hand between thumb and forefinger, he sucked on the minuscule amount of blood that trickled out.

She straightened up, glaring at him, her breath coming out in pants.  "I told you I'm not leaving, demon."

"Demon?" he repeated incredulously.  "That's it, I am--"

"Not the boss of me," she ground out, backing away from him, trailing her hand along the wall.  "So, unless you want me to do one of my extra special spells on you, I suggest you keep your hands off of me.  Got it?"

He followed her, not about to let her go off on her own, or leave her here alone.  But how was he supposed to get her up to the surface to figure out what was wrong with her if he couldn't hurt her?  He was pretty sure after that last attempt that she wouldn't go willingly, so force was in order.  Too bad he couldn't use force.  Appeal to her common sense?

"Willow," he said softly, taking another step toward her and holding his hand out to show her how harmless he was, "something's wrong.  You've got to know that.  This isn't you."

She nodded thoughtfully.  "Yeah, it's a thing we humans call emotions, something you'd know nothing about."  Her eyes pinned him in place, daring him to take another step.  He did.  She raised her hands, chanting loudly, her voice echoing off the walls.
Seizing his chance, Spike darted forward and punched her in the jaw.  Her eyes went wide as she sagged toward the ground.  He wanted to catch her, but he wasn't faring much better.  Pain ripped through his skull, burning white hot behind his eyes.  He sank to the ground, barely wincing at the squishy whatever he landed in, and cradled his aching head in his hands.

"She better appreciate this," he muttered harshly.

He took a few deep breaths before forcing himself to his feet and leaning against the wall.  Pain was still shooting idly through his brain, as if it had all the time in the world.  Sighing heavily, knowing it wouldn't get any better until he had blood, he bent and picked her up, hefting her in his arms with another sigh.  The things he did for her.

"She *damn* well better appreciate this," he repeated.

Trundling through the slime and the sludge with an unconscious body in his arms wasn't the easiest thing to do, but he made it.  Staring up at the manhole he had to get her up to and through, he groaned.  Maybe it'd be better if he woke her up, even with the way she'd been acting.  It'd certainly be easier on his back and arms.  But, even if he wanted to risk her wrath again, she probably wouldn't wake up anyway, he'd hit her fairly hard.

Tossing her over his shoulder--gently--he pulled himself slowly up the metal ladder, and climbed out of the suddenly smaller-than-it-was-before manhole.  And they were back outside by the old high school.  Setting her down on the wet grass, he sat beside her, and took a deep breath, tossing her a scowl.  She didn't look it, but she was heavy.

Her house was closest, so he decided to take her there and search through the spell books.  The answer had to be there somewhere.  And damn her for doing the spell in the first place.  Picking her up again, he started for her house.  The going was easier this time with no slime to watch out for, no slipping feet.  He made it within minutes, laying her on the couch while he went upstairs for the aspirin bottle.  A trip to the kitchen for a glass of water, and a bag of frozen peas later, and he was sitting beside her, tapping her face gently.

Thirty minutes later, he looked up from one of her spell books to see if she was awake yet.  She was still passed out on the couch, in the same position he'd set her down in.  No matter what he did those first few minutes, she wouldn't wake up, so he'd left her to sleep it off.  Either he'd hit her harder than he thought, or this was another side effect of the spell... or of her out of control emotions.  Whatever it was, he wasn't too worried.  Her heartbeat was strong, and her breathing was even.  She'd snap out of it eventually.

Another ten minutes passed before he finally found the spell she'd used.  An Emotion Control spell.  Well, duh.  All right, now all he had to do was figure out how to reverse it.  After a century with Dru, he should've learned a few things about spells.

Should've.

It took him another hour, and some quality time with her computer to figure out how to do it.  And of course it was a simple thing.  Just light a few candles and chant the right words, and voila, she was cured.

(October 2001)

Willow woke up with a raging headache, and a sore jaw.  Her knees were kind of aching too.  She hadn't a clue as to what had happened to make her feel this way, but she was pretty sure Spike was involved somehow.  He usually was.  A rank smell made its way to her nose, and she quickly sat up, trying to escape it.  Her eyes focused on her living room wall, and Spike asleep in the chair across from her.

Books of all shapes and sizes littered the floor and table top.  Apparently he'd been researching something.  Or they had?  She couldn't remember.  And that smell was permeating her senses again.  Yuck.

Swinging her legs to the floor, she sat forward, resting her head in her hands.  Pain shot through her jaw as soon as she touched it, causing her to shout, rather loudly, in surprise.

Spike's eyes opened, focusing on her with a sour look.  "You're not going to bite me again, are you?"

Her eyebrows rose skyward.  "Me, bite you?  Hello, you're the vampire of the group.  And it's me who's in pain and probably bruised," she told him, gently probing her teeth with her tongue.  Everything felt all right.  No missing teeth, or blood.

"Yeah, well, you're welcome."  He sat up, giving her yet another belligerent look.  "And next time you do a spell to control your emotions, don't."

"What?"  Her confusion was real, but she was mostly concerned with where the smell was coming from.  Looking down at her clothes, she realized it was her.  "Ew."  Seeing a particularly nasty spot of brown on her right knee, she stuck her tongue out in disgust.  "I am so going to take a shower now.  Fill me in later."

Spike sighed as she darted up the stairs trying to keep from gagging.

Freshly showered, and feeling like a million--scratch that--feeling like a half a million bucks, Willow went into her room.  And look, there was Spike.  What was he doing in her room?  Thankfully, she was already dressed, and completely covered, otherwise, there'd be an awkward thing happening here.  She'd had time to think about it, and was pretty sure he had no idea what he was talking about.  The spell hadn't gone wrong.  Right?  And if it had, which it hadn't, she'd know about it.  Wouldn't she?  Of course, she would.  But nothing had happened that she knew of.

"Okay, dude, spill it," she told the overly handsome vampire on her bed.  And he was on her bed why?  She sat on her desk chair, combing her hair and waiting for his explanation.

"First of all, never call me that again.  Second of all, you don't remember your little emotional breakdown?"  He leaned back against the wall, stretching out.  Looking mighty comfortable on *her* bed.

"Sort of," she said with a frown, "I mean, I had this dream that I yelled at you.  A lot.  And bit you?"  She sighed in frustration.  "That wasn't a dream, was it?"  Setting the brush on her desk, she pointed to her jaw.  "What's this?  A bonus from you?  Everything since this morning is kind of blurry... like a dream, or something.  I really don't remember anything concrete since... uh," she massaged her forehead, trying to think back.  "Oh, hey!  You snuck into my bed last night."

He waved his hand dismissively.  "That was almost twenty-four hours ago, pet."  He snorted and chuckled.  "A push and a bite ago.  Not to mention the screams and insults."

"Twenty-four hours?"  That couldn't be right.  She'd lost a day?  How?  The spell.  It had to be that stupid spell.  "Did it break down?  The spell, I mean."  But, wait.  "Insults?  What'd I call you?" she asked in dread.  Hopefully nothing too terribly bad.

He laughed heartily, swinging his legs to the floor.  "Demon.  It was terrible."  He sniffed, wiping at his dry eyes.  "I'm, like, so hurt."

"First of all," she said in imitation of his earlier words, "never do Valley Girl talk again.  Second of all, sorry.  I mean, well, you know.  For being insulting, and biting you.  It was rude of me," she said primly.

"Rude, right.  That's what it was."  He laid back with a yawn, running his hands through his hair tiredly.  "So, everything all under control now?  No more outbursts on the way?"

She shrugged.  "Pretty much don't know.  Tell me what happened.  Please?"  She hated the feeling that she might have lost control.  She was all about control.  Being in charge wasn't a huge part of who she was, but being in control was.  So, to have lost that was galling.  It totally sucked.

He told her what happened, filling in the last twenty-four hours' worth of yelling, bitching, and evil-doing on her part.  It sounded familiar, like she'd dreamed it, but it still didn't feel real.

"God, I am such a bitch," she joked, feeling anything but lighthearted.  "A regular Cordelia."  Hearing the self-pity in her voice, she rolled her eyes.  "And, apparently, quite the sad sack."

"Well," Spike said, stretching out, "you've earned it.  And I won't even say I told you so."  He closed his eyes and rolled over.  "How about some sleep now?"

"Fine," Willow said.  "Sleep.  Enjoy.  I'm going to go eat something."  She closed the door on Spike, who was waving her away with a yawn, and went downstairs to eat.  She felt like she hadn't eaten in a week.  Pizza sounded good... or, a sandwich, ooo, ice cream sandwiches.

~~~*~~~

Spike woke up hours later, feeling rather bereft of Willow's company, and left her room for her parents'.  He was hoping she'd be in there, preferably naked, but he'd be satisfied with just finding her.  Pushing the door open, he spotted her red hair immediately, even among the multitude of blankets and sheets.  As he had before, he shut the door, and joined her in bed, sighing in contentment when she turned into him, and pressed her lips to his chest.  He sucked in a breath when her lips pressed to his collar bone, and her hand slid down to rest on his hip.  She was a little seductress in her sleep.

"Spike?"

Spike froze, preparing for the freak out that was sure to come.  She was awake, and in just a second she'd yell at him for climbing into bed with her again.  He looked down at her, expecting to see anger, or fear, but neither were present.  A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and she traced soft circles on his stomach.

He leaned down and whispered, "Yeah, love?"

"I missed you."

He knew exactly what she meant by that, and as he started to wake her up more fully, he thought to himself... why not get comfort from someone he cared about?  Someone he had feelings for, and who apparently had some kind of feelings for him.  Instead of doing what he knew was right, he took her hand in his and kissed the palm, letting his other hand come up to cradle her cheek.  "I missed you too," he said softly, his eyes caressing her sleepy face.

Dropping the hand from her cheek, he settled it on her stomach, tracing circles like she was doing on him.  The muscles under his hand tensed as she pushed herself up, and kissed him.  He ran his hands along her body, intent on finding out what she felt like without clothes on.  She deepened the kiss as his hands slowly moved from her abdomen to her breasts.  She arched into his touch, moaning, and he hardened in response to the purely feminine sound.

He knew, even as he kissed her, that he shouldn't be letting this happen.  He wanted her, and she had slept with William, but... did she feel anything more than friendship for him?  As she caressed him, he threw caution to the wind, and said to hell with all that.

He would have Willow.

He wanted to take his time with her since she seemed to want him as much as he wanted her, but she wasn't making it easy.  Her hands were all over him, on his chest, his face, his neck.  When she lifted herself on top of him, he broke the kiss and rolled them over, so he was on top.  He wanted her now.  Needed to be inside of her.  It had been too long since he'd had a woman.

He caressed her breasts, hefting the weight in his hands and playing with the nipples with his thumbs.  Her eyes burned with desire and her breathing was harsh and shallow.  He leaned down and kissed her softly.  Her mouth opened under his, and he slanted his mouth over hers with a fierceness that spoke of his need.  She returned the kiss with equal fervor.

He moaned when her hand slid lower, her small fingers wrapping around his shaft.  He sucked in an unneeded breath and broke the kiss, leaning down to suck gently on her nipple.  Her back arched up, and her eyes closed.

She slid her hand along his length a few times, making him shudder with need.  He stilled her hand, pulling it away from him, and kissing her palm.  She opened her eyes again and smiled, reaching up and pulling his mouth to hers.

Her hips lifted up off the bed when he slid a finger inside of her.  She was ready for him.  Wasting no more time, he positioned himself between her thighs and slid inside of her.

Their gasps of pleasure mirrored each other as he sank all the way in.  He had to hold still for a few breathless seconds, while she adjusted to him.  When she began to move against him, he pulled out almost completely, then thrust back in again.  She held him to her, caressing his back, and wrapping her legs around him.  He kissed her deeply, fighting the urge to bite her.  Taste her.  Drain her dry.  A low growl escaped him at this last thought.  His face changed, his fangs elongated, and he wasn't able to stop himself.

He bit into her neck as he thrust inside of her again and again.  She whimpered, and he wasn't sure if it was in pain or pleasure.  At this point, he was hard pressed to care.  He had a warm body underneath him, he was thrusting inside of her, and drinking her blood.

He was in ecstasy.  Heaven hadn't a thing on vampires.

As he continued to drink from her, she tightened around him.  Pushed over the edge, Spike followed her into orgasm, growling into her neck.

And still he drank.

(October 2001)

Spike was at the kitchen table drinking a tasteless mug of pig's blood from Willy's the next night, when an angry and frightened scream echoed throughout the house.  He went running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, following her heartbeat into the bathroom.  His hand was on the doorknob when the door flew open, and Willow came out, running into him.  Her wet hair was combed carelessly back, away from her face.  She had on a pair of black shorts, and a small black tank top.  She looked beautiful.

And then he saw her eyes.  They were black as well.

Uh-oh.  Magick.

She was staring at him in that way that screamed, 'I'm going to turn you into something gross and disgusting.'  Her voice, when she spoke, was low and unnerving.

"Did you bite me?" she asked, gesturing to the bite mark left behind by their lovemaking.

Okay, there were a few responses here.  One, lie.  Two, run.  Three, act cocky.  As usual, cocky won out.

He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms, looked her up and down, and shrugged.  "Yeah."

Her eyes narrowed at him, and the blackness started to swirl around in a really neat way.  But when she started to speak in Latin, he dropped his nonchalant pose and slapped his hand over her mouth.  "Oh, no you don't."  He grabbed her hand and dragged her into her bedroom.  The small, narrow hallway made fighting, if it came to that, a bit hard.  He let go of her mouth and flung her away from him.  "No.  Magick.  Around.  Me.  It's English, it's a pretty simple concept, so how many times do I have to tell you?  I've had enough of your magick to last a lifetime."

She turned her eyes on him, and he was glad to see they were back to normal.  "Why did you bite me?  And what else did you do to me?" she asked him, her tone telling him what she meant by 'what else'.

So, what, she didn't remember what had happened between them?  Or maybe she thought it was just a dream again... or William.

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans and lit one.  He'd actually been afraid this might happen after her little memory problem the night before.  Seemed to be a side effect of the spell.  Since she'd been asleep a little over twelve hours because of the amount of blood he'd taken, he'd had plenty of time to come up with a plausible excuse.

And, the phrase, tit for tat, came to mind.  She wanted to be hush-hush about what happened between her and William, then fine.  He'd give her something to wonder about.

"Came up here to check on you after you went to bed.  You were having a nightmare or something, and when I tried to wake you up, you pulled me down on the bed, and told me to feed off of you.  You were rather insistent too, so I obliged.  Figured, what's a little blood between friends?"  Seeing her skeptical look, he raised an eyebrow at her.  This would teach her to lie to him.  "Guess you were dreaming about William," he said softly, mockingly.  "You didn't tell me you had to force him to do it."

She flushed, and her eyes went wide.  He could see the struggle in those eyes.  She wanted to tell him the truth, that she'd never forced William to feed off of her, that it had been during sex, and therefore he must be lying.  Yet, on the other hand, if she told him that, she'd have to admit to sleeping with William, and lying to Spike.  She just couldn't do it.

"So, why?" he repeated, "Because you wanted me to."

She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again.  She nodded curtly, and turned away from him.

Spike watched her ignore him for a few seconds, then turned and left the room, and then the house.

He'd screwed up.  No matter what he told her, she wouldn't be happy with him.  So, he was caught as much as her over telling her the truth.  Damned if he did, and damned if he didn't.

Damn it.

(October 2001)

In a dormitory on the UC Sunnydale campus, a young blonde girl lay sleeping on her bed, books and papers spread around her.  Her cat, commonly known as Miss Kitty Fantastico padded silently over to the window and jumped up on the sill.  She stood up on her hind legs, and stretched tall.  Seconds later, the beloved cat evaporated into mist and floated through the partially open window to the ground.

The real Miss Kitty Fantastico cautiously emerged from under the bed, her ears flattened down, and hissing at the now empty window sill.  She jumped up on the bed, watching the last spot she'd seen the fake cat in, and belatedly guarded her mistress.

The mist traveled low to the ground, disturbing fallen leaves and blades of grass as it moved off campus.  Moved with a purpose.  As soon as it was clear of prying eyes and stray glances, the mist swirled into a human form and took shape.  People walking down the street that night may very well have wondered why Arnold Schwarzenegger was in Sunnydale, and furthermore, why he answered to the name, 'Merle'.

He strode purposely down the street, toward the center of town.  Knowing where he was going, he made turn after turn without needing to look at street signs.  He stopped in front of the closed Espresso Pump, waving his hand in front of him.  The air shimmered and brightened with a light that wasn't there.  The strip of shimmering air lengthened and widened until Merle was able to step through it.  As soon as he did, the air returned to normal, and the light disappeared.

(April 2000)

"Merle?" a voice questioned.  "What are you doing here?"

Merle turned around with a grin.  "Gene!  It's been a while man, where you been?"   He turned to the Djin in front of him.  The Djin who looked exactly like Barbra Streisand at the moment.  "Take that face off," Merle laughed, rolling his eyes.  "She's creepy as all get-out."

The Djin pouted slightly, then dropped the glamour, allowing his true form to show; that of a blue-skinned demon with gold sigils.  His perfectly creased black slacks and crisp white shirt was in complete agreement with his upper crust French accent.  "Better?" he asked.

Merle shrugged.  "Anything but that woman is fine."

Gene laughed heartily, his eyes dancing with merriment.  "Issues?"

Merle shook his head, slapping his old friend on the back.  "What are you doing here?  Got a victim in town?"
Gene shrugged dramatically.  "I am here on my own.  I thought it was time for a vacation, and this charming little town is purported to be an excellent getaway for demons."

"Oh, so it's all play and no work for you for a while, huh?  I envy you, man.  Myself, I'm on assignment here."  Hearing a noise in a nearby alley, he turned to peer into it, but saw only darkness.  "Yeah, they've got me doing the old nine to five.  Well actually it's more like twenty-four seven," he laughed, "but, hey, who am I to complain?  Vampires, witches... this job has everything."

Gene sniffed importantly, looking way too arrogant for his own good.  "I have heard rumors of a great power gathering here.  There's a search out for demons for hire.  Are these the same people you're working for?"

Merle frowned, wondering if the Bosses had put out word for more demons.  Why?  He was doing a good enough job on his own.  Hadn't he killed them all?  He sure as hell had.  And all on his own too.  So where did they get off hiring more demons?  Damn traitors.  Disgruntled at being left out of the loop, he shook his head, not offering up any information.  "So where you been?  Last I saw you was back in eighteen seventy-one.  Just after that little bumbling incident with Mrs. O'Leary."  He laughed heartily in remembrance.  Those had been fun times.

Gene's smile turned into a frown, and his narrowed at Merle.  "I do not bumble."

"Okay, okay.  Not usually, but you sure did that time, even you have to admit that."  He tossed an amused grin at Gene, and waited for him to acknowledge the truth in his words.

After a minute, Gene nodded and laughed with him.  "This is true."

Merle shook his head, wishing times were as simple as they used to be.  "What was it you were supposed to do exactly?  Keep her from being robbed and murdered?"

"And I did just that," Gene told him, still chuckling.  "She was neither robbed, nor murdered."

Merle's snort of laughter had Gene grinning.  "That's true.  Good thing you'd disguised yourself as a... now what was it?  A cow?" he asked, his voice unsure, though they both knew he knew what he was talking about.  "You protected her very well."

Gene shrugged, looking all frustrated and annoyed, though in truth he was having as much fun reminiscing as Merle was.  "Well what was I supposed to do?  I was forbidden to take the form of a human or demon.  I chose what I thought would be best."

"And a cow was a wonderful choice," Merle agreed.  "You couldn't have been expected to take the form of a dog, or cat, something that could warn her and roam free, no, a cow was best.  That way, you could knock over a lantern to get her attention when you saw the killers coming."

Gene closed his eyes and sighed, still smiling.  "I made a mistake on that part, I admit, but the rest of my decisions were beyond reproach."

Merle sniggered, changing into the form of a burn victim.  "Yes, starting the Chicago Fire was beyond reproach.  Good work, Gene."  Shaking his head, he morphed back into his favorite human form.

Gene nodded eagerly.  "I'd still be working for the Powers of Good, had I not started that fire.  I'm happier where I'm at now.  No more middle management for me.  I'm a, how do you say?  Player?"

"Yeah," Merle snorted, "you're a player.  So what've you been doing with yourself since then?"

Gene shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks.  "Mostly little things.  At my own convenience, of course, not at the beck and call of the Powers anymore."

Merle sucked his teeth, nodding attentively.  No longer ticked off, and feeling quite generous, he decided maybe it wouldn't be so bad working with Gene again.  "I've got something going on here.  Maybe I could put in a good word for you.  See if they're looking for new help."  Seeing Gene's narrowed eyes, he added, "If you want to.  I mean, you're on your own now, and doing your own thing.  But if you want some work, I can ask around."

"Sure," Gene told him.  "If I'm not busy, and if my particular skills are needed."  He looked at the expensive watch on his left wrist and sighed.  "I have to be off, I'm meeting a few friends for drinks at a place called Willy's."

"All right," Merle agreed, "I've gotta be going too.  See you around."  They parted ways, Gene walking in the direction of Willy's, Merle heading toward a nearby cemetery.  Got a vampire to see, he thought to himself.

(April 2000)

Willow and Tara stared at the disappearing demons, then looked at each other.  "W-- we should go--"

"Tell Giles and Buffy," Willow finished, grabbing Tara's hand and pulling her with her down the alley.  "Absolutely."

They ran the whole way, not stopping to discuss what they'd just witnessed, there was plenty of time to do so at Giles' place.  Besides, why go through it twice when once would suffice?  Ten minutes later, they charged through the ex Watcher's door, breathing heavily.

"Demons," Willow panted, bent over at the waist with her hands on her knees.  "Two of them.  Shapeshifters."

Tara, half leaning against the door frame, and half leaning against Willow, nodded at the confused older man.  "In league with vampires."

Giles, in the middle of walking across the room with a cup of tea in one hand, and a book in the other, stopped to stare at the exhausted girls.  "Um, who is in league with vampires?" he queried, at a loss.

"Arnold Schwarzenegger," Willow answered, standing straighter now that she'd gotten most of her breath back.

"And Barbra Streisand," Tara added with a giggle.

"Oh."  Giles nodded, took a few steps toward the couch, then stopped.  "I'm sorry, what?"

Willow laughed with Tara at the lost look on Giles' face.  "We saw them by the Espresso Pump.  Shapeshifters we think, since one of them sort of did this cool morphing thing."

"It *was* neat," Tara agreed, smiling at Willow, then frowning, "ex-- except what it turned into.  That was gross."

"Very gross."  Willow sat on the arm of the couch, facing Giles.  "They were talking about the Chicago fire... from what I heard, I think one of them turned into a cow and knocked over a lantern, starting the fire."

Giles' eyebrows rose comically high.  "The Chicago fire of eighteen seventy-one?  But that happened in eighteen seventy-one."

"Duh."  Willow chuckled, ignoring Giles' embarrassed look.  "They were talking about vampires and witches... and something else.  We couldn't hear everything they said 'cause they were talking kind of low.  So we only caught parts of the conversation."

"Something about a job one of them was doing," Tara added, joining Willow by the couch.

"Right," Willow agreed, "and I think one of them--the one we couldn't see--was looking for work?" she asked, looking for confirmation from Tara, who shrugged apologetically.  Willow shook her head in amazement.  "Wow, these things must live a long time to have been around in eighteen seventy-one.  Maybe they're immortal, like vampires."

Giles set his cup down and went over to the bookshelf by the door.  "It's possible, and definitely intriguing," he told them, searching through his books.  "However, I don't think this is an emergency.  I appreciate the information, and will look into it thoroughly, however, right now all our attention needs to be focused on Adam, and his activities."

Willow nodded, watching him pull books from their shelves.  "Right.  So... we'll just go then.  Um, you know," she shared a smile with Tara, and got to her feet, "elsewhere.  The Bronze.  Gonna meet Buffy there... so..."

Giles smiled and looked up briefly.  "All right.  I'll see you later then."

Tara gave Willow one of her disapproving looks once they were outside.  "You shouldn't lie to Mr. Giles."

Willow nodded somberly, turning back to the apartment.  "You're right.  I should go back in and apologize.  Tell him we're really going to find a couple of guys and drag them back to our room to have sex with."  She giggled madly when Tara grabbed her arm and stopped her from opening the apartment door.

"Don't you dare," Tara gasped, laughing with Willow.  "He'd probably have a heart attack."

"Well then, maybe I should tell him the truth.  That you and I are going back to do spells, and maybe other things."  She raised her eyebrows a few times, grinning and ruining the leer she was going for.

Tara shook her head and rolled her eyes.  "He'd definitely have a heart attack if you told him that."  She hid her sudden frown behind a cautious look around them.  "Um, let's go be inside somewhere."  Her steps quickened as she felt someone watching them.

Willow, misinterpreting her friend's sudden want to be inside, grinned even wider.  "Okay."

(October 2001)

Willow once again checked to make sure she had enough protection before heading out the door.  She turned the key in the lock and heaved her bag onto her shoulder, heading toward the nearest cemetery.

A demon hunting we go.

She really hoped she wouldn't run into Spike tonight.   Normally, she went hunting with him, but not anymore, due to him biting her and screwing things up.  So unless she was going to sit home and wait for the shapeshifter to show up at her door and beg her to kill it, she had some patrolling to do.  If Spike knew she was going, he'd probably try, as usual, to get her to stay home.  Like a child.

So she had almost been bitten a few times by vampires.  It wasn't like it hadn't almost happened before.  Or actually happened.  Hello, marks on her neck, by said vampire.  But, no, male chauvinistic Spike wanted Willow to stay home, like the child he obviously thought she was.  And she was in no way going out to spite him.  No, he was no longer a part of her decision making.  At all.

He didn't realize how much it meant to her to find this demon and kill it.  It was pretty much the driving force behind her life now.  Not a day went by that she didn't think about destroying the demon that had killed her friends.  So, he could tell her to stay home as much as he wanted, she just wouldn't do it.

On her way tonight, she decided to swing past Giles' apartment.  Old apartment, she corrected herself.  She hadn't been back to it since that night.  Hadn't felt the need to.  She'd had hope that William would fix things, and there was no point in doing something difficult if it became unnecessary.  But now, a month after it had happened, a week since her last visit to the past, Willow was beginning to force herself to accept facts.

They were dead, and they weren't coming back.

William, for whatever reason, had failed, and her friends were dead.  Permanently.  It was time for her to accept it.  She was alone, except for Spike and Tara.  And, with things the way they now were between her and Spike... she only had Tara.

Spike.  What was she going to do about him?  When she wasn't with him, she felt his loss like an ache.

Because he's been a part of your life for over four years, in one way or another, her mind answered.

That was simple enough to believe.  She liked that answer, it let her off the hook.  It meant that she wasn't in love with him.

Even if he was totally crushable.

Satisfied with her answer, Willow turned the corner and entered the courtyard of Giles' former apartment.  Everything looked the same.  It shouldn't.  It shouldn't look like nothing had happened, because something had.  Something that had changed her life forever.

She went over to the fountain in the center of the courtyard, and sank down on the low brick wall, dropping her bag to the ground beside her.  She absently rubbed her right shoulder.

His window was dark.  The door was closed.  She wondered if his belongings had been moved out.  Who would have taken them?  Did he have any family?  They really hadn't known much about Giles... never really bothered to ask.  She got to her feet and went to his door, resting her hand lightly against it.

"Bye, Giles," she whispered.

She turned around and picked up her bag on her way out of the courtyard.

The first cemetery was only a few blocks away from here.  As she walked, she pulled out a stake, keeping it firmly in her hand as she made her way there.  Once inside, she strolled through, almost like she was out for a walk on the beach.  Looking for all the world like a helpless female, lost in the big bad darkness.

Her plan worked, and soon she was dusting vamps left and right.  Well, left... since she only found one, but she could have dusted them left and right if there were more.  She was sure of it.  The one that did show was obviously a newbie, since he still had dirt clinging to him.  She saw him in front of her, and after a small amount of mental encouragement, Willow knocked him to the ground from behind and planted the stake firmly in his back.  Unfortunately, the heart happened to be on the other side, and she had to yank out the stake and re-stake him, this time in the right spot.

"Duh," she told herself in annoyance.

She climbed to her feet and dusted herself off, looking around for more.  Didn't look to be anything except her up and about.  A noise off to her right had her thinking that maybe she was going to be able to tell Tara she'd dusted them left and right after all, but after carefully checking it out, it proved to be nothing more than a curious cat.

She held her hand out and knelt down.  "Here kitty, kitty, kitty--" the cat snarled at her and took off in the opposite direction.  Willow shrugged, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and heading to the next cemetery.

That one proved to be equally as dead as the first.  Literally.  In the fifth and last one, Willow hit pay-dirt.  It wasn't the shapeshifter, but it was something to slay.  One less demon running around.  She was shoving her spare stake into her bag, on her way out of the cemetery and on her way to Tara's when she ran into a snarling, slobbering brown demon.

He jumped on her from atop a nearby mausoleum, dropping her to the ground.  She still had a stake in her hand, and quickly brought it up to stab him with it, but this demon was no fledgling.  And he was strong.

He pushed her hand away from his chest as if she were a fly, but to her it felt as if her hand had run into a brick wall at fifty miles an hour.  She didn't think it was broken, but she was in a world of hurt at the moment.  She scooted away from him using her good arm, as he advanced on her.  When he reached down to pick her up, she swung her bag at him.  It hit him on the side of the face, and he howled in pain.  She didn't think she'd hit him that hard.  A second later, she realized that she hadn't.

The demon turned around, and she saw her stake sticking out of its back.  He reached behind him, trying futilely to grab it, and fell flat on his face.  Willow breathed a sigh of relief, and stood up, ignoring Spike's proffered hand.  She picked up her bag, slung it carefully over her shoulder, and cradled her hand against her chest.

He stood there, his eyes chastising her, his arms folded across his chest, and a half smoked cigarette dangling from his lips.  "You all right then?  Nothing broken?"

She nodded, putting her injured wrist behind her back.  "I'm good."

"Good," he told her, tossing his cigarette to the side and grabbing her by her upper arms.  "Mind telling me what the hell you're doing out here alone?  Stutter Girl's not even with you?"

She sighed and turned around, leaving him there.

"Willow," he called after her.  When she didn't stop or turn, he went after her, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around.  "Would you stop?" he asked in exasperation.

"No," she told him, walking around him.  He stepped easily back in front of her, and took her bag from her.

"Willow, listen--" he began, sounding excited.  He'd gotten to kill something, yay for him.

"No," she said tiredly, taking her bag back from his unresisting hand, "you listen.  We're not friends anymore.  Okay?  I'm not a piece of meat that you can snack on whenever you feel like it.  So leave me alone."

She didn't know exactly what had happened that night, but she knew it wasn't the way he'd told her.  Since she had never forced William to feed off of her, and since the bite had happened during sex, she was pretty sure he was lying about her having a nightmare and pulling him down to her.  In all likelihood she might have pulled him down to her thinking he was William, but he shouldn't have allowed it.  He'd taken advantage of her while she slept, she hadn't been fully awake and therefore was unable to stop him.  Would she have stopped him?  From snacking on her?  Most likely.  Other things that might have led to them being in bed together, probably not.  As she'd told William, she wanted him, and she couldn't hide that.

"We're not friends?" he asked in puzzlement.  "What happened?"  He brushed the hair off her neck, and she saw his jaw tighten.

Not in the mood for whatever game he was playing, she once again stepped around him, and he once again moved in front of her.  She sighed heavily, and dropped her bag to the ground, glaring up at the too-handsome-for-his-own-good vampire.  She finally lost her patience and snapped at him.  "What?  What is so all-fire important that you have to tell me?"

He grabbed her wrist, intending to pull her closer to him, but dropped it when she yelped.  He looked down at her swollen arm with a frown.  "Is it broken?"

Willow rolled her eyes.  "I don't know, that's why I was on my way to the hospital."

Grabbing her bag, he took her other arm, heading in the general direction of the hospital.  "Sorry, didn't realize.  We can talk on the way.  Guess what?"

She rolled her eyes again at his almost childlike tone, but didn't protest anymore.  "I don't know.  You found out you can kill humans again?" she asked snidely.

He tossed a dirty look at her, but didn't break their stride.  "Not quite, love.  Go on, guess."  His eyes were dancing with merriment, and she had a hard time not smiling at the sheer glee on his face.

She was supposed to be angry here.  Angry at the vampire helping her to the hospital.  The vampire that had just saved her life.  Biting her lip, she shrugged, wincing at the pain it caused her wrist.  "I don't know, Spike, why don't you tell me?"

They were at the emergency room entrance now, and just before they went inside, he stopped, spun around to face her, and kissed her hard.  "It's me, love.  Spike."

She nodded slowly.  "Yeah, I kind of figured that out from the clothes, the duster, the cigarette, and, oh, what else?  The bleach blonde hair?  The accent kind of gave it away too."

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, and leaned forward with a wink, whispering, "Your Spike, Red.  Not the pansy from this time.  He's probably hanging around the slayer's grave or something, crying like a baby."

Willow's eyes went wide, and she backed away from-- whoever it was in front of her.  She had too damn many Spikes in her life.  Was this the demon?  Or William?  Or her Spike pretending to be William?

"Whoever you are... leave me alone."  She turned and ran through the automatic doors, nearly knocking a doctor over.

~~~*~~~

Willow spent the next two hours getting x-rayed, having a cast wrapped around her arm, and finally, at two am, she was allowed to leave.  She sighed in relief when she finally walked out the doors into the dark parking lot.

Life in Sunnydale was never dull.

She stood in the parking lot, suddenly feeling pretty depressed.  She couldn't even defend herself anymore.  How was she supposed to kill the demon that had killed her friends if she couldn't even hold a stake?

Something wet ran down her cheek, and Willow wiped at it impatiently.  A moment later it happened again, and she realized what it was.

Tears?  Now was when she finally let herself cry?  The spell had been broken for a few days now, and since then she'd had no emotional pain.  No tears.  No grief.  But now, she could feel all of the grief she'd bottled up and shoved into a corner flooding through her, and she was overwhelmed.  She sank down onto her knees, sobbing.

She cried for her friends.  She cried because she'd lost Spike.  And she cried because she was alone.

"Willow?"

Willow looked up tearfully.  Spike was standing there, looking worried, but keeping his distance.  She sniffed and sat down on the ground, ignoring the pebbles poking her.  "What?" she asked grumpily.

He chuckled and held his hand out to her.  "Come on, love, I'll take you home."

She stared at his hand for a second, before taking it.  She didn't let go once she was on her feet.  "I'm not going home, I'm going to Tara's."  Suddenly she gasped, and not because his hand tightened painfully on hers, even though it did.  "Oh, no.  I forgot to call Tara and let her know I wasn't coming.  And that I'm all right."  She closed her eyes in self deprecation.  "She's probably worried out of her mind."

"Let her," Spike told her, uncaring.

"Spike, don't start with me.  I already told you-- wait a minute."  She dropped his hand and backed away.  "How do I know you're you?"

"Ask me a question?" he suggested.

She thought quickly while keeping an eye on him.  "Okay.  Um, what did we argue about the last time I saw you?"  That ought to cover both Spikes and the demon.

Spike grinned lazily.  "You told me to leave you alone."  He pointed to the emergency entrance.

"Cute.  I meant before that."  She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but ended up hitting her breast with the cast.  "Ow."

"You should try magick on that," he told her.

"I'm fine," she said, holding back her smile.  Her Spike wouldn't have told her to use magick.  Not in a million years.  So, one down, two to go.

He sighed heavily, looking up at the sky as he tried to remember.  "Oh, yeah.  That's an easy one.  Stutter Girl."

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist, and leaning against him, resting her cheek against his chest.  She closed her eyes, never wanting to let go.  "It's really you.  And don't call her that."

Spike chuckled, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and caressing her back.  She sighed, enjoying the feeling of just being held.

The fact that it was Spike had nothing to do with it.  Nothing whatsoever.

She sighed again, feeling safe and loved, even if only for a few minutes.  Tara was once again forgotten.

~~~*~~~

Spike watched the couple in the parking lot from across the street.  Willow looked very much like she belonged in William's arms, like she was born to be held by him.  Spike was actually jealous.  Of himself, no less.  He shook his head at his own thoughts.

He moved quietly across the street, heading straight for them.  William saw him and grinned arrogantly, then leaned down and whispered in Willow's ear.

"We have company, love."

Willow stiffened, then pulled away, turning to face him.  Her eyes widened, narrowed, then went blank.  Panic, anger and then nothing.  He'd rather see panic and anger than nothing.

"Spike," she said softly.  "Or are you the demon?"

"Not *the* demon.  Just *a* demon."  He stood directly in front of them now, glaring pointedly at their clasped hands.

"What was the last thing we argued about?" she asked him.

He tossed a glance at William, who was watching them carefully.  "Him."

"More specific please?"  She waited patiently.

He shrugged.  "Me biting you."

She nodded curtly.  "You're you."

"He bit you?" William asked incredulously.  "Why in bloody hell did you let him bite you?"

Spike ignored him, fixing his eyes on Willow.  "What happened to your arm?"  Concern laced his words no matter how much he tried to keep it out.

Willow looked from one Spike to the other, looking very weirded out.  "A demon broke it."

William smirked at Spike, pulling Willow closer to his side.  "I saved her."

"Well good for you," Spike enthused.  "You've just taken your first step into Pansyville."

He saw Willow biting her lip to keep her laughter at bay, and was encouraged.  Maybe he hadn't lost her completely after all.

William, on the other hand, took a step closer to Spike.  "You know, if I didn't have anything to live for," he tossed an almost unnoticed look at Willow, "I'd kill myself just to get rid of you.  Mate."

Willow pulled her hand free of William's and picked up her bag.  "I'm going home.  To Tara's.  But, hey, don't let me stop the two of you.  Why don't you just beat the crap out of each other, that sounds like fun, huh?"  She took off down the street, leaving the two Spikes staring after her.

Spike took one step after her before turning around and stalking off in the opposite direction.  He knew without a doubt that William was going after her.

And it didn't bother him.

He kicked a parked car as he crossed the street, causing it's alarm to start blaring.

Didn't bother him at all.

~Part: 14~

(October 2001)

Willow walked through the empty hallway like a prisoner to the electric chair.  She had decided to tell Tara the complete truth about her and William, and she didn't think Tara would be able to forgive her, so she felt like this was the beginning of the end.

She stopped in front of the familiar door and raised her hand to knock.  Tara had given her a key, but under the circumstances, she didn't want to use it.

A wide awake and alert Tara answered the door only seconds after Willow knocked.  Her eyes went wide when she took in Willow's tired face, and the cast on her arm.

"Willow.  Are you all right?"  She ushered her girlfriend in, shutting the door behind her.

Willow sat down on the edge of the bed with Tara beside her and smiled tremulously.  "I'm sorry I didn't come over earlier.   I should've at least called."

Tara smiled reassuringly.  "It's okay."  Her eyes fell to the stark white cast on Willow's arm.  "You had a huge excuse."

Willow shook her head, upset with Tara for being so understanding and forgiving.  "But, no, see I had plenty of time, and I didn't call you.  It's unforgivable."

Tara's brow furrowed at Willow's self flagellation and she leaned forward, kissing her tenderly.  "It's okay.  I forgive you."

Willow started to cry, and she damned the spell for having failed on her.  "You won't when I tell you the rest."  She sniffled pitifully.  "I have something to tell you... and it's gonna be hard to explain, but-- I went back in time," she blurted out.

Tara's response was something that Willow never would have expected in a million years.  "I know.  I sent you there."

Willow shot to her feet.  "What?  You know?  You sent me-- what?  Why?"  She sank back down on the bed and stared at her girlfriend.

Tara looked down at her folded hands, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Willow, I thought what I was doing was right.  But-- but, everything went wrong.  It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"What do you mean?  Why did you do it?  Oh, my God... the demon--"

"No," Tara said loudly.  Realizing she was almost shouting, she spoke more quietly.  "No, I didn't know about the demon until S-- Spike told me.  It was a coincidence, that's all."  She shook her head sadly.  "When I saw--" seeing Willow's confused look, she started over.  "A week before Buffy and Xander... died, I did a spell.  To see auras."

"Can't you already see them?  I mean, isn't that how you knew Buffy wasn't Buffy when she was Faith?"

Tara nodded.  "To a point.  I can sort of see a..." she tilted her head to the side, trying to find the right words.  "It's hard to explain.  I see a distortion, if I really concentrate.  But, I wanted to see colors, moods, you know, just for fun."

Willow nodded in understanding.  She too liked to play with magick at times, though she hadn't told anyone except Tara, and sometimes not even her.  "What did you see?" she asked.

Tara frowned momentarily, before her face smoothed out again.  "Do you remember when we were at the Bronze?  Um, all of us were there.  And Spike."

Willow thought back, and her eyes widened.  "I remember.  Every time Spike came near us you got all," she fluttered her good hand in front of her.  "Wiggy."

"Yeah, 'cause, he had this weird colored aura.  It was sort of light gray.  Meaning he's not completely evil.  White is pure, black is evil.  He's got more goodness in him than evil, but that isn't what was so strange."

Willow leaned forward slightly.  "I always knew there was something different about him."

"The weird thing was watching his aura changing colors whenever someone went near him."  Tara smiled in remembrance.  "With Xander, Spike's aura went darker, just a bit.  I think he liked Xander, but Xander made him mad.  A lot."

Willow giggled.  "Xander was good at that.  What about Buffy?  I'll bet it turned red, for love, huh?"

Tara half nodded and half shook her head.  "Um, when Buffy was around it kind of went multicolored.  She made him feel a whole range of things, I think."  She stood up and went to her bookshelf, pulling out one of the larger tomes there.  "It says here," she mumbled, flipping through the pages until she found the one she wanted, "that red is love, and pink is friendship, and yellow is sort of lust, and all of those colors were there whenever Buffy went near him, and some black.  It turned black when she insulted him, or, um, went near you."

Willow's eyebrows rose in astonishment.  "Me?  Why?"  And then a thought struck her.  "He hates me, doesn't he?" she whispered, "That's why you wigged every time he came near us."  Standing up, she turned away from Tara, and toward the window.  She went over to it, opening it with a sniffle.

Tara moved behind her, softly caressing her back.  "No, no, it doesn't mean that.  He doesn't hate you.  See, that's what I thought too, but it doesn't mean that."

Willow turned in her arms, letting Tara hold her, seeking comfort where she didn't deserve it.

"His aura turned bright red whenever he was near you.  That's what scared me so much."

Willow pulled away, staring into Tara's sad face.  "Red?  But... how?  He doesn't even like me.  He-- he bit me," she whispered, lifting her hair to show Tara the fresh mark that had recently joined the growing collection on her neck.

Tara's eyes flashed with hurt, but she hid it quickly.  Willow saw it anyway.  "I'm sorry."  Then she remembered that Tara was the reason she'd gone back in time in the first place, causing everything that had happened since.  "But-- wait, no I'm not.  I'm... angry.  At you.  Why did you send me back there?  Why did Spike's aura make you do that?"  She turned back around, staring out the window.  She thought she saw someone standing in the shadows below, but nothing moved.

"The book says that bright red like that means soul mates, and I was scared and angry.  And hurt," she whispered.

"Soul mates?" Willow scoffed.  "Please.  Me and Spike are so not soul mates.  Buffy and Angel are soul mates.  Maybe even Xander and Anya.  But me and Spike?  Not even a chance."  It wasn't possible, was it?  No, absolutely not.  He didn't even *have* a soul to mate with hers.  She just couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it.  But... her curiosity got the best of her, and she had to ask.  "Um, what about me?  What did you see in my aura?"

"Around me it was light red."  She smiled softly.  "We've always known each other, sometimes as lovers.  Sometimes as friends or family."

Willow smiled back.  "Yeah?  See, told you I loved you," she smirked.  "And everyone else?"  She was eager to hear about this, and to understand Tara's reaction.  "I bet me and Xander have known each other for thousands of years.  And Buffy too.  And Giles.  Oh, and Anya."

They both laughed and Willow felt somewhat healed again.  Like coming home.  She grabbed Tara's hand and held on tight, kissing it lightly.  They sat in the window, half in and half out, talking quietly.

"Yep.  I think we've all known each other for a long, long time.  It's kind of freaky if you think about it.  Knowing that we've met before, and will meet again... like we aren't in control or something."

"Yeah, it is.  So... you've pretty much avoided telling me what my aura looked like around Spike."

Tara took a deep breath, and shrugged.  "Bright red.  Same as his.  You and Spike are soul mates."

Willow shook her head.  She couldn't believe this.  Her and Spike, soul mates?  Forever destined to be together?  How did that work with him living through more than his fair share of lifetimes?  A giggle escaped her when she thought of what his reaction would be.

He'd probably dust himself.

"Willow.  I know you slept with him."

Willow's head snapped up and she stared at Tara.  "What?  You know?  How?  Oh, God.  I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it just happened.  Buffy and Giles were dead, I'd been bitten and shot and then I wasn't here, I was somewhere else, and thinking it might have all been a dream, and then there was Spike, all drunk and demanding, and... I'm sorry.  I'm a terrible girlfriend."  The tears started again, and Tara wiped them away tenderly.

"I didn't know for sure until just now," she whispered.  "It's my fault.  I'm the one that sent you there in the first place.  I thought maybe if you stopped him from getting caught by the Initiative, then he'd leave town, and not be here anymore."

Willow frowned.  "The Initiative?  That happened three months before I went back..." a giggle escaped her, and she bit her lip. "You sent me to the wrong time."  Another giggle slipped out.  "And if I'd kept him from getting chipped we'd probably all be dead now."  After the nerve wracking night she'd just had, and finding out that her and Spike were soul mates, coupled with the fact that Tara was the reason she went back in time... to stop her soul mate from being implanted, thereby allowing him to kill them all was a bit much to take all at once.  She shook with laughter, and once the laughter started, she couldn't stop it.

Early the next morning, Willow went home.  Tara had classes, and Willow wanted to be in her own home.  She didn't feel entirely comfortable with Tara anymore, and she could see the same feelings of discomfort in Tara's eyes when she looked at her.  They'd spent the night talking, trying to figure out what had gone wrong with the time spell and William's lack of results.  They hadn't come to any real conclusions except that things between them had changed, and they weren't sure where to go from there.

When she got home, she knew from the stillness of the house that her parents were still gone.  Gosh, what else was new?  She wished they were there.  Even with everything going on, and Spikes and Williams popping up all over the place, she wished they were here.  They probably wouldn't ask too many questions, questions she wasn't prepared to answer, but they would be there for comfort.

She tried to tell herself that she needed time alone to figure things out, because of how screwed up, and confusing her life was right now, but it didn't help.  She was starting to have a hard time figuring out what was real, what was fake, what were dreams, and who was who.

She headed upstairs to her room, her feet taking the stairs one slow step at a time.  By the time she got to the top, she was half asleep.  Yawning widely, she pulled her shirt off, pushed open her bedroom door and dropped onto her bed.  She was so tired.  Tired of trying to figure out who she was talking to, who she was being bitten by, who she was with.  Crawling under the covers, she yawned again, falling asleep almost immediately.

(October 2001)

Willow woke up in a fairly decent mood the next afternoon, despite the fact that she had a broken arm, and her girlfriend was responsible for... well, she just wouldn't go there.  Some things were best left not-thought about.  And this was one of those things.

After an awkward shower with a plastic bag around her arm, she went downstairs and ate breakfast.  Her parents were due back in a few days, according to the message on the machine, so she'd have to clean the place up and come up with an excuse for her arm.  That left her with only tonight and the next for demon hunting.  She could still search while they were here, but it would be hard to sneak in and out.

Shrugging her bag over her shoulder, she once again headed out, hoping she wouldn't run into... oh, and look.  There he was.  Just like that first night, only he wasn't walking away from her house, he was walking toward it.  Not caring to have a big ole long, involved conversation with the blood-stealing jerk, she locked her front door, slipped her keys in her pocket, and took off toward the first cemetery, hoping he hadn't seen her.

"Willow."

But of course he had.

He ran up behind her, grabbing her unhurt arm.  "It's me, um, Past Spike."  He waggled his eyebrows, leering at her, "The sexy one you slept with."

Willow sighed, eyeing his red shirt.  William still wore the red shirt, Spike didn't.  So, this was most likely William.  Was she happy about that?  Unfortunately, yes.

But, she kept up the pace, entering the cemetery gates with a frustrated sigh.  "Who's sending us all around in time, and why?" she asked the silent night sky, then the vampire next to her.  "Any idea, William?"  She wasn't going to let herself lose control with him this time.  Keep him at a distance, and she'd be fine.  Be formal.

"Oh, it's William now, is it, love?"  He wrapped his arms around her, forcing her to drop her bag of weapons, and pressed her lightly back against the tree behind her.

She nodded, and shrugged out of his embrace, though she didn't want to.  "Yeah, and just so your ego doesn't go soaring with the doves, it's something Spike and I came up with to differentiate between you two."

Undaunted, William's hands slid down her arms to entangle with her hands.  His touch was so gentle on her broken arm, that she didn't even wince.  He held them against the tree above her head and nipped at her neck softly, causing shivers of desire to snake through her.  "And what about you, love?  What do I call the other you?"

Willow's eyes slid shut at the feel of him pressed up against her, and his husky voice in her ear.  She should be stopping him, not standing there like a more than willing participant.

Her tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips, and she opened her mouth to tell him to leave her alone.  "Robin," was what came out in a whisper.

Weakling, she berated herself.

Feeling him move away from her neck, she opened her eyes.  His mouth hovered above hers.  She waited breathlessly for his lips to touch her, but they didn't.  He stayed that way, watching her.  She held herself still, fighting against every nerve ending in her body that was screaming at her to push him to the ground and touch every inch of his gorgeous body.  Why was it that every time she and William got together they ended up all over each other?

Well, not this time, she vowed, pulling her hands away from his and straightening her clothes.  He let her go, but didn't move.  They stood there watching each other, and then as suddenly as a vampire turns to dust, William's mouth was on hers, and she was moaning with pleasure.

"Stop," she whispered, sliding her unencumbered hand under his shirt, and down below the waistband of his jeans.

"Yeah, any second now," he mumbled, settling one of his legs between her thighs.

She held him to her, delighting in the feel of his erection pressing against her.  His cool skin under her hands tensed when she bit his lip, gently tugging on the flesh.  He pulled back to grin at her.  Her giggle turned into a squeal when he scraped his blunt teeth along her neck, making her shiver.  God, who knew vampires could be so erotic?

Suddenly, there was empty air where William had been.  Her eyes flew open just in time to see Spike let go of William's duster.  He shoved his younger twin away from him, and was about to punch him when Willow found her voice.

"Spike, don't!"

He turned to her in surprise.  "Willow?"  His glare turned back to William, but his question was directed at her.  "Did he hurt you?"

Willow joined the two of them, pushing William away from Spike and standing in front of him.  "Don't touch him, Spike, if you do--"

Spike's eyes narrowed at her, and he took a step closer.  "Don't threaten me," he told her, his voice cold.

William pushed Willow out of the way.  "Don't touch her."

Willow grabbed Spike's arm desperately.  "Stop it.  You can't--"

Too late.  Spike swung at William, and landed a punch on his jaw.  As soon as their flesh touched, they were thrown a good ten feet away from each other.  Willow ran to Spike first, checking to see if he was all right.  He was sitting up slowly, staring across the distance between him and William, a strange look on his face.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.  "I tried to warn you, you doof."

Spike leaned back against one of the headstones.  He bent his legs at the knee, resting his forearms on them, and letting his head hang between them.  "I'm fine."

Willow looked over at William to see him in the same position as Spike.  She joined him, kneeling by his side.  He raised his head and looked at her.

She sighed.  "You all right?"

"Peachy," he told her, a small smile lighting his lips.  His eyes darted to Spike, who was watching them closely.  "What was that?" he asked.

"No two people can occupy the same space at the same time.  Law of physics.  I always wondered if that was true.  And what would happen if they did."

He was shaking his head.  "Not that, love.  The--"

"Willow, come here," Spike ordered her.

"I've always had a problem with obeying orders," she told William in a low voice, crossing her arms over chest.

William laughed, and got to his feet, helping her up.  "I'll remember that."

Spike stared at Willow intently.  "Come here."

The seriousness in his eyes caught her attention, and she started over.  "What?"

William grabbed her hand, pulling her back to him.  "Bloody ponce is jealous," he told her, then yelled across the clearing to Spike, "just because your bitch is dead doesn't mean you can have mine."

Willow yanked her hand out of William's grip.  "Don't talk about Buffy like that.  Ever."  Unsure of what was going on with the two of them, Willow decided to play it safe and join Spike.

Spike actually breathed a sigh of relief when she walked away from his counterpart, and stood next to him.

"What's with the orders?  A simple, polite request would have sufficed, you know."  He grabbed her by her cast, pulling her toward him.  She gasped in pain.  "Ow."  When he didn't let her go, Willow cleared her throat and tried again.  "Ow," she said pointedly.

If anything, his grip actually tightened.  She once again found herself having to yank her arm out of someone's grip.  He let her go, just as William had, but stepped in front of her.  There's that damn protecting thing again.  And from himself, no less.

"Um, Spike.  Hello.  He can't hurt me, remember?"  She tried hard not to sound like she was talking to a child, but it came out that way anyway.

"Run," he bit out.

Willow sucked in a breath, tossing a quick glance at William.  "You think he's the shapeshifter?  I'm pretty sure he's not."

"No, Willow.  Just run.  Now."  He shoved her away from him, hard.  She fell to the ground, landing on her hands and knees.  She heard Spike curse behind her, and felt him pick her up, setting her back on her feet.  "Go," he barked.  "Get the bloody hell out of this cemetery unless you feel like being a meal."  He morphed his face and stalked toward her, his eyes feral and cruel.

"The chip," she whispered.  "It's gone."  He'd hurt her a couple of times since his and William's impromptu touching session.  Her wrist, then throwing her to the ground.  But she'd been too stupid to get it, and now it might be too late.  Spike was advancing on her, looking for all the world like he wanted to kill her.  She backed away slowly, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder at William.  He was also in game face, but he wasn't watching her.  His eyes were fixed on Spike as he stalked toward Willow.

She turned and ran, hearing quick footsteps behind her.  An arm snaked around her waist after only a few yards, and she screamed, terrified, as she was hauled back against a hard chest.  She kicked and hit at him, trying to get him to drop her.  He held on tight though, and swung her around, landing a punch to her jaw.  She sagged against him, blacking out a second later.

(October 2000)

When Willow woke up, she found herself in her own bed, alone.  Her jaw throbbed painfully.  Her mouth felt like the Sahara, her eyes like they had dunes in them, and her head like it was stuffed full of sand.  She held herself still for a few minutes, willing the aches and pains to go away, when they didn't, she did a small healing spell, and waited.  She didn't know what had happened last night after one of the Spike's punched her, but she intended to find out as soon as she could.

Ten minutes later, she was in the shower, washing away the dirt and soreness from her body.  The hot water sluiced over her body, energizing her, making her feel alive again.  She wanted to spend all day in there, but answers were needed, and she wouldn't find them here.  She wasn't sure where she would find them, but she was pretty sure Spike would be a good start.

Wasn't he always?

She dried off quickly, combed her hair, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, and a white tank top, with no shoes.  Feeling a little less sore, and a lot more refreshed, she finally headed downstairs.  Spike, she knew, was in the house somewhere.  She'd heard him before she jumped into the shower.  She'd wanted to go straight to him and demand answers, but the horrid condition she was in demanded immediate attention.

An all too often occurrence.

Rounding the corner, Willow ran straight into him.  "Spike.  Just the demon I wanted to see.  What happened last night?"

Spike, dressed in his usual black on black, minus the duster, looked ready to bolt.  If the sun hadn't been shining, she was sure he would have.  Her curiosity went up a notch.  She couldn't remember anything that had happened after being punched, but apparently something big had gone down.

"Well?" she prompted, when he remained silent.

He leaned sideways against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, trying very hard to look casual, but she wasn't buying it.  "You don't remember?"  His voice was steady, normal, his eyes not quite landing on hers.

"No, that would be why I'm asking you.  You were there."  It wasn't a question.

He nodded slowly.  "I was.  What do you remember?"

"You and William fighting.  Then one of you hit me.  After that, nothing."  She went past him, into the kitchen.  She poured herself a glass of orange juice and drank it down.  "This loss of memory thing is getting old.  Thought, this time I was unconscious, therefore, not having memories of that time is probably normal."  She saw him watching her, his eyes wary.  Oh, boy.  "What'd you do?" she asked.

"What makes you think I did anything?" he scoffed.  "Maybe you did something.  Ever think of that?"

Truthfully, she hadn't thought of that.  But why should she? He was the one acting all nervous and guilty.  Of course, maybe she'd done something to make him nervous.  Her eyes went wide.  What if she'd mistaken him for William and jumped him?  That would certainly account for his wary looks.

She groaned loudly, not sure she wanted to know.  "What'd I do?"

Spike chuckled deeply, and Willow cursed him silently for being able to affect her so much by doing so little.  "Nothing.  But it was fun watching you squirm."  He sat down at the kitchen table, a mug of blood in front of him.

Willow poured another glass of orange juice before sitting down across from him.  This was getting to be all too familiar.  Ignoring the way it made her feel, she lifted tired eyes to Spike.  "Just tell me what happened.  I feel like I'm going nuts. All this time travel and people who aren't who they look like, my friends are all dead.  I've come to accept that it's not going to change anything no matter what William tries, and now something was done to me and I wasn't awake for it.  Getting some scary vibes here, Spike."  She spoke earnestly, "I just want it all to end.  I'm exhausted from trying to figure things out.  So... what happened?"

Spike stretched back in his usual pose.  "Nothing happened. William came here somehow, but you already know that.  You ran into him on patrol."  His eyes pinned her to her seat.  "A patrol you weren't supposed to be on, Willow.  You could've gotten killed."

"By William?" she asked incredulously.  "He wouldn't kill me."  Suddenly unsure, she whispered, "Would he?"

Spike shrugged.  "I don't know, he's not me anymore.  He's changed so much that I don't know what he'd do.  I wanted to kill you for a long time."  He grinned shamefacedly.  "I think I stopped wanting to kill all of you right after we fought Adam."

"Some of us fought Adam," she pointed out, "while some of us fought *with* Adam."

Spike nodded, waving his hand dismissively.  "Yeah, whatever.  Point is, William doesn't seem to want to kill you, but I couldn't tell you for sure.  I think he's a bit obsessed with you.  But, I'm sure you have no idea why."

Willow sat back.  "Obsessed?  With me?  See, no, 'cause, 'obsessed' and 'me', don't go in the same sentence together.  Unless it's me obsessed with something.  Or someone.  Like Xander.  I was obsessed with him for pretty much my whole life."

Spike rolled his eyes and sat forward.  "Willow, listen to me, for once in your life.  Stay away from William.  He's dangerous."

"Yeah, he might nibble me to death," she chuckled, but the chuckle died in her throat at the images that came to mind.  Not a bad way to go.  "Spike, you never hurt me, so how could he?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "The chip is gone.  Malfunctioning.  I'm not sure what happened.  When I ran into him, I thought he was attacking someone.  That someone turned out to be you."

The implant was gone?  But how?  When?  Had William been attacking her?  Her voice only shook a little when she spoke.  "He attacked me?"

"No, not in the, 'I want you dead' kind of way."

"But you said-- what way then?"  She was still trying to get her mind around the fact that their implants were gone.  Was he going to kill her?  He said he didn't want to anymore, but something had happened last night.

"It was more in the, 'I want you' way."

Lost in thought, Willow didn't hear everything Spike said, only part of it.  Her eyes snapped to his.  Had Spike just said he wanted her?  No, she must have only heard part of it.  He probably said he wanted her to do something.  That had to be it.

"Um, what?"

~Part: 15~

(October 2001)

Later that night, after Spike left to get more blood at Willy's, Willow grabbed her spell books and headed downstairs for something to eat.  Things between her and Spike were almost like they used to be.  She couldn't hold a grudge forever, and all he'd done is take her blood, and okay, that was really bad, but she didn't like being angry with him.

Didn't like him not being around.  She missed him when he wasn't there.  He'd promised never to do it again, and though she wasn't about to believe him, she wasn't going to lose him over this.  She'd just have to be more careful around him.

And definitely not sleep in the same bed anymore.

Which brought her to William, and where he'd spent the night.  She wasn't too inclined to worry about him, since he'd punched her in the face last night, but she did care, and she did worry.

She fixed herself a frozen dinner and went through her books while she ate.  Spike had told her earlier that William hit her because she wouldn't stop screaming and struggling, and he was afraid she'd hurt herself.  He also hadn't realized until then that the implant was no longer working.  He'd hit her harder than he'd intended.

That's what Spike said anyway.

She thought she believed him, since he pretty much hated himself now, and most likely wouldn't lie about it, but it didn't make it any easier to take.  William had hit her without a second thought.  What was to keep him from killing her?  Not a damn thing.

Well, she was through being pushed around and taken advantage of.  It was time for action.  Time to find and kill a demon.

Not a William, or Spike demon, but a shape-shifting one.  The kind that liked to kill her friends and leave her for dead... well, that too could be Spike, but not this time.  Thankfully, and hopefully, never again.

Maybe afterwards she could find the spell Tara used and go back to fix things if they weren't already fixed.

She flipped through the pages, past love, money, and revenge spells, but came up empty.  Closing that book, she picked up another one and found something she hadn't been looking for.

A shot of excitement went through her.

This had to be the reason the past hadn't changed.  A Dampening spell.  It was obvious.  Something, or someone--probably the shapeshifter--was dampening the changes William had made, and that's why they weren't seeing the results.

With a short, excited yell, Willow ran upstairs for the ingredients to counteract the spell.  She had everything on hand, except for the blood of the one who'd cast the Dampening spell.  Damn it.  Where was she going to get that?  And if she got close enough to get blood from whatever it was, she would most likely just kill it.  That would take care of the Dampening spell, wouldn't it?  Why were things in the magick department always so complicated?

Deflated, Willow collapsed back into the kitchen chair.  Back to her original idea.  A demon locating spell.  That was easy enough to find.  And this time, she had everything she needed.  Four white candles, a necklace, and a map of Sunnydale.  Simple.

Spreading the map on the kitchen table, she set the candles down, one in each direction, and lit them.  Holding the necklace above the map, she concentrated on what she wanted to find.  The necklace started to swing in circles, wider and wider, until it got to an area just outside of its reach, then it swung back and forth.  Willow moved the necklace in that direction and it stopped moving completely when it got to the cemetery where Spike lived.

Gathering the bag she'd been keeping stocked with weapons, Willow blew out the candles and ran out the door.  She dashed across town in record time, making it to Spike's cemetery, panting and out of breath.  Her stake was out and at the ready as she went through the gates, keeping an eye out for... anyone that looked like they didn't belong.

Or Spike.

Willow saw him heading in her direction, and ducked behind a brick gate post, watching him approach.  He'd probably grab her by the arm and forcibly drag her back to the house if he saw her.  Best to stay hidden.

Black jeans.  Black T-Shirt.  Duster.  It was one of the real ones.  She sighed and waited for him to leave before continuing her search.  He stopped at the entrance, and dug out a cigarette, lighting it with extreme slowness.

"Looking for me?" he asked, looking straight ahead.

Willow stepped out from behind the post with another sigh.  "Not unless you're a shape-shifting demon."

He turned to face her, and she was surprised to see the angry tilt to his lips, and the glint of steel in his eyes.  "Rather fickle, aren't you?  Never quite satisfied with the one you're with.  Nope, not our Willow.  She goes from one person to the next, using them until she finds someone else she wants.  Gender doesn't even stop her."

Willow stared at him, anger working its way to the surface.  What was his problem now?  She had better things to do than argue with Spike yet again.  She had demon killing to do.

He leaned toward her, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk, his voice soft.  "First Oz, then Xander, then back to ole Oz, and when he gets sick of you, you move on to Tara.  Is Tara enough to hold your interest for a while?  Not a chance!"  He grinned when she jumped back, startled.  "'Cause then you spot a vampire you just *have* to have.  But even he's not enough for you, so you sleep with his future self, then act like it didn't happen.  Then you go *back* to the witch.  And now you're looking for the shapeshifter.  Are you never satisfied, love?"

Unable to believe he was saying these things to her, she slapped his smirking face.  What hurt so much, was that he was right.  He wasn't saying anything she hadn't already thought to herself since she'd slept with--

Slept with Spike?  Future Spike?  Her dream... oh, God.  No.  He'd fed off of her, not had sex with her.  No, this was the demon, the shapeshifter, he was lying for his own purposes and none of what he said was real.  She tightened her grip on the stake behind her back, and forced a smile to her face.

"Wanna know something, Spike?" she asked softly.

He shrugged.  "Not really.  I was just on my way out.  Be seeing you, pet."  He tossed his cigarette at her feet and stomped on it.

Willow grabbed him by the arm and swung the stake around to his chest.  His hand grabbed hers just before she plunged the stake into his heart and squeezed her unhurt wrist.  She yelled in pain and dropped the stake.  Okay, her staking arm was a bit useless at the moment, being in a cast and all, so her left hand was the best she could do, which was pretty pathetic.  Still, did he have to make it look so effortless?

And damn it.  Why wouldn't this thing leave her alone?

He frowned angrily, his eyes full of fury.  "What the hell are you doing?  It's not enough to leave them anymore, now you have to kill them?"

Willow avoided the hurt and pain she saw in his blue eyes, because it wasn't real.  This wasn't Spike.  This was the demon that had killed her friends.

She leaned forward, much the same as he'd done, and whispered, "Go to hell, demon."  She kicked him in the crotch and ran toward Spike's crypt, dropping her bag along the way, which was only slowing her down.  She dodged around headstones and ducked under low hanging branches.  Spike's crypt was just ahead, within reach.  Maybe William was there.  He was safer than the thing chasing after her.  She chanced a glance behind her and was satisfied to see Fake Spike yards behind her.

She slammed into the heavy metal door and shoved it open, swinging it shut behind her, coming to a standstill at the entrance.  William wasn't there.  Neither was Spike.

The fake one came running through the door a second later.  She looked around for a weapon, but there was nothing there except the usual stuff.  A nice syringe might've helped, in order to get the blood to stop the spell.  She was out of luck on both, and the shapeshifter was most likely not about to just let her go.  She was in deep trouble.  The last time the shapeshifter had her alone, it'd tried to choke her to death.  Before that, it'd given her a nice bite and a crossbow bolt to the shoulder.  Not encouraging thoughts.

He shoved the door shut, and leaned back against it.  "You're afraid of me," he stated, looking slightly less furious than before.

"Duh," she said derisively, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

He closed his eyes with a tired sigh, before opening them again.  "I won't hurt you again.  I didn't know--" he stopped, looking like he was at a loss for words.  "Look, I was angry.  Even after all this time, you're still with Stutter Girl.  Yes, the chip's disabled, but I don't want to hurt you.  Definitely don't want to kill you.  Shaggin', though, that's a different story altogether."  He grinned, pushing away from the door.  His steps slowly brought him closer to her, even as she backed away.

"You're not William.  Not Spike either.  So just stop pretending and tell me what you want.  I'm sick of all of this.  I just want it finished."  She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping a wary eye on him.

"I am William.  I gave you that bruise on your jaw last night," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.  "I just gotta say, this is getting too confusing."

Pretty sure he was telling the truth, she nodded, but kept her distance.  "Tell me about it.  I'm going to get a bunch of those, 'Hello, my name is...' tags and make you and Spike wear them."  She backed away from him, not wanting to be near William any more than the demon, at the moment.  He'd just chased her through the cemetery, after degrading her, and-- "What was all that about back there?  I didn't sleep with Spike.  Well, aside from the actual sleep-having kind of sleeping with him.  No sex, I mean."

He once again looked furious, but kept his distance.  Her emotions were at an all time high right now and adrenaline was pumping through her veins after her mad dash through the cemetery, so she was in no mood to listen to a long story on Spike's evil, jealous ways.  From Spike, no less.

"You're the only person I've had sex with in two months."  She took a deep breath, letting her anger fuel her.  So many things she'd stuffed down, buried deep... now seemed like a good time to get them out.  "And what the hell are you so pissed about anyway?  I was cheating on my girlfriend with you, so if anyone has any reason to be angry, it's her."

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing at her.  "You're still pretending it didn't happen?"  His sneer was uncalled for, she thought, definitely not something she was used to seeing from him lately.  "When that bloody bastard was carrying you home last night he let it 'slip' that he'd screwed you.  Quite thoroughly at that."  His eyes fell to the bitemark on her neck.  "Took your blood too."

Willow ran her hand along her neck, feeling all the scars there.  "That's not true," she whispered, a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach.  "I don't remember-- I-- I didn't..."

He took a few steps closer, his voice gentle, his expression soft.  "You really don't remember?"

She shook her head in agitation.  "No.  I had a dream... but it was you, not Spike."  She couldn't believe this was happening.  She'd slept with Spike.  Had sex with her Spike.  The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.  Spike had taken advantage of her more than she'd thought.  Way more.

And he'd pay for that.

William was in front of her now, looking angry.  Not at her this time.  He pulled her into his arms with a sigh.

"We should go.  Just leave Sunnydale, leave Spike, and Stutter Girl, leave it all behind."

Willow smiled against his chest.  "You're not from this time, and you'll probably end up disappearing soon, so I don't think--" she stopped suddenly, remembering how she'd gone back in time.  "Wait a minute.  How'd you get here?  And how... Tara didn't do this."  She pulled away with a frown.

"Tara.  What's she got to do with anything?"  He pulled her back into his arms, ignoring her weak tries at pulling away.

Giving up, she stayed exactly where she wanted to be anyway.  "She's the reason I went back in the first place.  She saw-- something, and she sent me back to keep you from getting captured by the Initiative.  She thought..." Willow let her voice drift off, having no idea what to tell him.  No way was she going to mention the soul mates thing, because she still didn't believe it herself.

His chest shook with laughter at her confession.  "I told you there was something between us, love, even she saw it.  She's not as dense as I thought she was."  He laughed even harder when she slapped his arm.  "So, what, she sent you back to keep us from getting lovey-dovey, and ended up being the reason we got lovey-dovey?  That's brilliant.  Couldn't have planned it better myself.  Remind me to thank her someday."

"Shut up, Spike."  She couldn't really fault him for being amused, she herself had laughed long and hard, and rather hysterically, upon finding out what Tara had done.  Still, she was entitled.  "She thought she saw something, and she wanted to stop it, so she sent me back.  Only she screwed up on the time somehow."  She pulled away again, and he let her.  "Come hunting with me.  For the shapeshifter.  I found a spell to use on it to stop a spell I think it's using."  Sighing heavily, she pulled him out the door with her.  "I'll explain on the way."

(October 2001)

Merle didn't like formal meetings, and this was no exception, but tonight's meeting with the Bosses had him smiling, rather than frowning.

The three of them were seated at a large table in front of him, whispering between themselves, casting him occasional distrusting glances.  Especially the girl.  And still he didn't care, because, they were pleased with him and his work, and he was pleased with himself.  He shifted from one foot to the other, wishing there was a chair to sit in, but of course there wasn't, couldn't let the demons get too comfortable.

"Tara thinks she sent Willow back?" the girl asked from her spot on the right side of the table.  She tried so hard not to let her distaste of him show, but as always, failed miserably.

He often wondered if it was her blonde hair, always pulled back in a tight bun, that had her in such a constant sour mood.  How else could he explain why such a beautiful young woman was so uptight, and down on demons?

"She does," Merle answered, addressing the group as a whole.  "She believes--"

"Thank you," the older man in the middle said, barely even bothering to look at Merle when he spoke.

Once again they whispered amongst themselves while he was left to stand there like a puppy waiting for attention.  It galled him to no end that he had to go through this same ritual every time they saw him, but the end results were worth it.  He had free reign to do whatever he wanted, so long as it helped their plans along.  Chaos was what he wanted, and it was what he did best.  Hence them calling on his services.

Merle looked up when the middle guy spoke again.  He was older than the other two, his British accent more soft-spoken, but Merle had also seen his temper and knew not to dismiss him out of hand.

"How exactly did you get her to send Willow back?" he asked curiously.  Behind that curiosity was a shrewd man that Merle was starting to admire.

He crossed his hands behind his back and stood straighter.  "I planted a spell in her room, allowing her to see auras.  When she cast the spell, she saw the witch and the vampire as soul mates."  He paced a few feet to the left, smiled and paced back again.  It'd been quite a coincidence that they actually were soul mates.  All he'd had to do was plant the spell for Tara to find, and she'd done the rest on her own.  Well, except that little clause he'd added to her time travel spell.

Who'd have guessed the witch and the vampire actually were soul mates?  Sure, demons had essences, and those essences fell in love as well as any human soul, and were mated to other demon essences.  Sometimes they'd fall in love with humans, but he'd never heard of an instance in which a demon's essence was mated to a human's.

Reigning in his thoughts, he stopped in front of them, holding their complete attention.  Just how he liked it.  "She panicked, did a spell to send the witch back in time to keep the vampire from being captured by the soldiers."

"Willow," the girl corrected.  "Her name, is Willow.  Use it."  Her voice was tight, her eyes narrowed, and Merle knew she was a stone's throw away from jumping over that table to attack him.

What was going on here?  This was the most emotion he'd seen from any of them in the months since they'd hired him.  He'd thought them cold, and calculating.  After all, weren't they trying to drive the witch-- Willow, insane?  Weren't they using him to play with her mind?

Well, that was none of his business.  "Willow," he corrected.  Things were going too well for him at the moment to put himself on the outs with them.

All traces of pride were absent, but he was damn proud of his work on this job.  Everything was going more or less as they wanted it to, and it was all because of him.  And now, life was about to become even better for him.  If he did his job well, he'd be given a power to choose from, and he had his sights set on invisibility.  Could come in handy in those instances when shape-changing didn't.

The third boss shifted in his seat on Merle's left.  He was as young as the woman, but not as rude and violent as her.  In fact, he had a sense of humor, and he let it show in his personality, unlike the other two.  At the moment however, he was looking very grim, as he always was when discussing Willow's state of mind.  "Is she losing her grip on reality yet?"

Merle took a deep breath.  There is where he had to be careful; things were going well, but not as smoothly or as quickly as maybe they should be.  "She's still grounded by the two vampires, and Tara."

"Maybe it's time we took them from her?" the older man suggested, though by his tone of voice, he wanted to do anything but that.

"No," the woman interjected, her forehead furrowed in a frown.  Merle was astonished by the pain and compassion he saw in her face before she hid it.  She shook her head, her normal blank look back in place.  "She needs them.  We can't do that to--"

The older man sighed.  "I simply wish this to end as quickly as possible."  He leaned his arm on the table, rubbing his forehead with his hand as he removed his glasses.

"We know," the younger man said softly.  "You think we like this?  We have no choice, the deal was--"

"I know what the deal was," the older man snapped, glaring at the younger man.  He closed his eyes, deflating just the tiniest bit before squaring his shoulders once again.  "I'm sorry."  He straightened up, putting his glasses back on.  "Merle, do you have any ideas?"

Merle was a bit taken aback.  The Bosses were surprising him tonight.  He'd thought he knew them after months of dealing with them, but tonight they were showing emotions and traits he hadn't thought they possessed.

Concentrating on the subject at hand, he pretended to think for a minute, as if he hadn't been waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring up Gene.  "I have a friend," he said slowly, as if just coming up with the idea, "a Djin.  He may be exactly what we need.  He wears his victims down slowly, and usually by the time they figure out what's wrong, they're too far gone to care."

"A Djin?" the older man asked in surprise.  His eyes narrowed slightly, then widened.  "Oh, blast it, of course," he mumbled, before consulting the other two.

There was a long, quiet conversation among the three while Merle stood there, pretending not to try to listen.  Finally, after a good ten minutes, they all sat up straight, facing him.

"Call the Djin," the older man said, "only tell him what he needs to know, nothing else."

The younger man frowned, and spoke up slowly, and Merle was sure he heard a lot of anger in his voice.  "The Spike from her time isn't exactly on great terms with her, is he?"

Merle shook his head, hoping he wasn't going to be punished for screwing things up with them.  "No."

The boy grinned, and Merle could see nothing but satisfaction in his face.  "Good."

The older man rolled his eyes in irritation.  "Will this be a hindrance for you?" he asked Merle.

"No, not at all.  I don't think she'll be apart from him for long," he said thoughtfully.  "She's forgiving, seems to be in her nature.  I'm sure she'll forgive him quickly."

"You're probably right," the younger man said distastefully.  "Unfortunately."

"Xander," the older man bit out, exasperation lacing his voice and his glare.  "Will you please stop?"

Merle blinked at them a few times in surprise.  This was the first time they'd spoken a name in his presence, though obviously he'd known who they were, since he'd killed them.

"Sorry, Giles," was Xander's reply, but Merle could see he didn't mean it.

"Go," Giles told Merle, shaking his head at the whole situation.

Merle turned and left the room, keeping his whistling to a minimum.  Invisibility ability, here I come, he thought.

(October 2001)

After collecting her dropped bag, Willow and William traipsed through cemetery after cemetery, and came up empty.  Well, that wasn't completely true.  They'd dusted six vampires, and William had fought, and then lost, a demon.  Now, tired and dirty, they headed to her house.

One more night of freedom, Willow thought, pushing through the door.  Her parents were due back the next day, and she was going to be hampered by them for a while.  At least until the next time they left, which hopefully was--

"Willow, honey, is that you?" a voice called from the hall.

Willow froze with her hand on the doorknob, trying to figure out if it was better to shove William out the door, or turn to face her mother.  Whichever she did, it was bound to be awkward, and her mother would wonder why she'd shoved a man out the door.  Forcing back an hysterical giggle, she closed her eyes, opened them with a threatening look at William, and turned to face her mother.

"You're home early."  She crossed the room and hugged her mom, trying unsuccessfully to hide her just remembered cast.  Oops.

Her mom frowned at the cast, and lifted her hands to smooth Willow's hair from her face.  Her eyes widened when she saw the bruise on her daughter's jaw.  "Dad's meeting ended early.  Honey, what happened?"  Her glance flickered briefly to William, then back to Willow.

Willow had already come up with a good, plausible lie for her arm, which would also work for the bruises, but, looking her mom in the face and uttering that same lie wasn't as easy as she'd thought it would be.  "Oh, I, um, set my bag on the stairs a few nights ago, and when I came down in the morning..." she lifted her arm, and shrugged.  "Don't read and walk."

Sheila nodded, satisfied with her answer, and even smiled a little.  "You've always got your nose stuck in a book," she said with a chuckle, then turned her full attention to William.  "Willow, aren't you going to introduce your friend?"

Willow was stuck in such a weird place at the moment, that she didn't think she'd ever be normal again.  "Oh, right.  Manners.  Mom, this is Sp-- uh..."

Her mom turned a disapproving look on her, obviously thinking she didn't know his name.

Willow turned red, biting her lip to keep from laughing.  Her mom thought she was bringing stray men home to have sex with?  Oh, boy.  "This is Will--"

"William," said vampire interrupted, moving forward to take her mom's hand.  "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rosenberg.  Willow's told me so much about you."

She shook his hand, then folded her own in front of her.  "Nice to meet you, William.  I don't believe I've seen you around.  Were you a friend of Buffy's?" she asked politely.

Willow stared at William trying to figure out where that soft, Giles-like accent had come from.  "No, he isn't-- wasn't, a friend of hers."  Had to remember that past tense thing.  The dead thing.  The all-your-friends-were-killed-by-a-murdering-demon thing.

Her mom nodded sadly, but she was clearly confused about something.  "Willow, honey, what happened to Tara?  Did you two break up?"  She turned a concerned look toward Willow.

Her mom knew she-- and Tara-- and... oh, God.  Her face was flaming so bright, her skin so hot, she started fanning herself with her hand, ignoring William's not-so innocent look turned her way.  "Yeah, Mom.  We did."

Sheila sighed, hugging her daughter with one arm.  "It'll get better, dear.  With time."  She frowned suddenly, and looked from William to Willow.  "Oh, wait.  Are you and William...?  Did your Father and I interrupt something?  Do you two want to be alone?"

Willow lost it.  She started laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.  "This is the most surreal conversation I have *ever* had," she gasped, laughing even more at the lost look on her mother's face.  "I'm going to go out there," she pointed to the front door, "and I'm taking William with me.  But we're not going to have sex, so you can relax, Mom."  Giggling madly, she grabbed William's hand and dragged him with her out the door.

Once out there, she plopped down on the front stoop with a few more chuckles.

William sat beside her, also still chuckling.  "That was..." he stopped to clear his throat, "nice mum ya got there, love."

Willow shook her head with a laugh.  "All my life she's absent, then she shows up to burn me at the stake, and embarrass me by talking about sex, and Tara, and-- and who even knew she knew about us?  Guess she's not as unobservant as I always thought."

"Most people aren't.  We just pretend to be."  He waggled his eyebrows at her comically.  "All those research sessions I was at?  I spent most of the time pretending not to pay attention, but I heard every word, saw every gesture."

She looked at him skeptically.  "Liar."

He shrugged, leaning back on his elbows.  "That pale yellow shirt of yours with the red sun on it?  If the light's right, you can see right through it.  Buffy's skirts allowed glimpses of a lot more though, and--"

She slapped his leg as hard as she could.  "You jerk.  The whole time you were at Giles', you were ogling us?  You're a pervert."

He shrugged again as he lit a cigarette.  "Comes with the being a vampire part.  Think Angel didn't ogle?  He ogled.  Believe me, all the things Angelus used to yap on about weren't just stories."

"Okay, stop," she insisted.  "Angel is just not someone I want to hear about like that.  He, and his peeping, need to be between you and him.  Please."  She laughed at the disgruntled look he tossed her, but didn't relent.  It was too yucky to contemplate.  She leaned back, gazing up at the star-filled sky, enjoying the breeze on her face.  Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply.

A pair of lips settled over hers, startling her.  Tobacco tasting lips.

Not bothering to open her eyes, she sighed and pulled away.  "Spike."

"Mmm-hmm," was his reply, once again against her lips.

She opened her eyes, staring at him in amusement.  "You need to stop smoking.  It really tastes gross."

He smacked his lips together with a grin.  "Tastes fine to me."  He leaned back again, pointedly taking a drag off his cigarette, and blowing the smoke straight up into the air above them.  "Nummy."

She chuckled softly, wondering why she was so infatuated with him.  He was a killer again.  He'd probably even spent last night hunting and killing.  "Where'd you stay last night?"

"My crypt.  Why?  You miss me in your bed?"  He leered at her, smirked, leered some more, and just generally made it known that he'd like to be there again.

"What are we doing?" she wondered aloud.  This wasn't a relationship, it was a weird... thing, between a vampire and a witch.  Two people who used to hate each other.  Until very recently, Spike--this Spike--had hated her.  But now, she thought she might be falling in love with him.  Did he feel anything for her?  Anything more than mere lust?

"Looks like we're sittin' on your porch, avoiding your parents," was Spike's overly simplistic answer.

She rolled her eyes at him.  "That's not what I meant.  I was talking about--"

"I know what you meant," he sighed.  "But, I don't have answers anymore than you do.  This whole thing started as a way to--"

"To what?" she asked, turning to face him.  Something told her she didn't want to hear the answer, but her curiosity just wouldn't let it rest.

He looked into her face for a brief second, before looking away uncomfortably.  "To avoid falling for the Slayer, but now..."

Spike's words came back to her from what felt like years ago, but was only a short while ago; 'I'm pretty sure that telling William about Buffy was a bad idea.  I think he's decided to replace her with you.'

"Right.  I remember Spike saying something like that."  She shrugged as if it was no big deal, but her heart was hurting, and tears were trying to fall from her eyes.  What had she expected, she thought to herself, declarations of love?

"It started out that way, but it's not like that anymore."  He frowned at her when she didn't reply right away.

After a minute, she nodded, getting to her feet.  "It doesn't matter.  This whole thing between us was wrong from the start, but now, with the chip no longer working, it's not just wrong, it's stupid."

Spike stood as well, tossing his cigarette to the sidewalk.  "It's not wrong, and it's not stupid, Willow."  He ran his hands through his hair in agitation.  "Yeah, I went out last night, but what the bloody hell did you expect?  It's how I survive.  You think living off that pig's blood is what I want to do for the rest of my life?"  He snorted derisively, shaking his head at her.  "I found myself a nice college student to snack on, hunted her like I haven't done in so long, and..."

"Killed her?" she asked harshly.  "Yay for you.  Hope it was everything you remembered."

"Yes I killed her," he said angrily.  "I had here there, bleeding and dying, and I felt whole again.  It's what I am, Willow, I hunt, I feed, and I kill.  I'm not a bloody lap dog with a leash.  But that doesn't mean we can't be together."  He took her by the arms, and pulled her to him, but she yanked out of his grip.

"See that's the problem I'm having."  She paced a few feet away, putting some distance between them.  "You have no idea how wrong it is to kill.  It's normal behavior for you, but it's not for me.  And I can't live with other people's deaths on my conscience.  And if you stop killing because I ask you to--and I would have to ask you to--you'll resent me..." seeing the look he tossed her, she amended her words.  "You already resent me.  What kind of a relationship is that?  A nonexistent one," she answered for him.

"It doesn't matter right now.  Can't we just enjoy it and worry about the practical parts later?" he asked, grinding his teeth when she shook her head.  "I'm not giving up on this, damn it, I want you.  You want me.  We can damn well--" he grabbed her arms again, yanking her to him.

"Let go," she ordered him, smacking him in the chest with her cast when he tightened his grip on her arms.  "Spike, stop it.  What are you going to do, kill me in a fit of anger?  Just snap my neck, and drain me dry?  Yeah, that's a relationship that'll work," she said sarcastically.

"I bloody well wouldn't do that to you," he hissed, shoving her away from him.

"Yeah, well you just did one hell of a job of not hurting me," she said harshly, rubbing her sore arms.  A few tears slipped out unabated, and she swiped at them impatiently, turning away from him.  "Spike, I can't do this anymore.  I-- I think I'm falling in love with you, and I know it's not going to end well.  It never does."

Hearing nothing from Spike, she turned with an angry retort on her lips. The least he could do is acknowledge her declaration.  Instead of finding a speechless, or even angry, vampire, she was faced with an empty porch.  She immediately dropped her eyes to the cement, searching for a pile of dust, but thankfully, found none.

Well, what the hell?  Had he left?  Or-- oh.  He probably went back to his own time.  She hoped.  That would help things considerably.  She could resist her Spike, since there was nothing between them.

Except that one night of sex, her mind tossed back at her.

Well, that was easy enough to deal with, she'd just avoid him completely, and if she did happen to run into the jerk, she'd pretend it hadn't happened, the same as he was doing.

Heading back into the house with a sigh, she realized she still needed to find the shapeshifter to reverse the spell, and with her parents back, it wasn't going to be easy.

~~~*~~~

Spike watched as Willow shut the door behind her, then turned away with a sigh, walking back to his crypt.  His empty crypt.  If her parents weren't home, he'd be in there with her right now.

Seeing her and William standing on the porch together, all touchy-feely, and tender sweet, had pissed him off to no end, but he'd forced himself to stay where he was, even as William grabbed her.  Maybe she'd finally see him for the ass he was, maybe she'd come running to him, the Spike that actually cared about her.  But, she hadn't.  And instead of getting to beat William a few times for being the ass taking Willow away from him, the vampire had disappeared, back to his own time.

Spike was just all broke up about it too.

He sighed again as he entered his crypt.  Looked like it was just him and his beer tonight.

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