What Comes Around, Goes Around

Author: sinecure

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~Part: 16~

(October 2001)

After a good night's sleep, actually done during the night, Willow woke up and cleaned house.  Demons and vampires and evil creatures of the night, she could handle, but the monotonous, not to mention, dusty, job of cleaning house had her wanting to run screaming.

A nice lunch with her parents followed the morning session of cleaning, then came the afternoon cleaning, and dinner.  By the time dinner was finished, Willow was ready to take a shower and fall into bed.  The shower part happened, but not the sleep part.  Shapeshifters were out there waiting to be captured by her.  Even if she was sore and tired and only had one good arm.  She still needed to be out there.

Her friends' lives depended on it.  But it was impossible for her to accomplish anything on her own.  She considered asking Tara to come along, but she couldn't do that.  She couldn't endanger her like that.  Not to mention the just having broken up part.

With a groan, she realized she was going to have to ask Spike for help.  So, she shoved her pride and hurt way down deep, and went to his crypt.  It was still light out when she knocked on the door, waiting for him to answer.

It only took him a minute to open the door.  And, as usual, he was shirtless, and a cigarette was dangling from his lips.  The annoyed look was also there.  When he saw her, he stepped back, looking slightly less annoyed.  "If this is about William, I already know."

She went in, shutting the door behind her with a thunk.  "It's not about him.  It's about us.  Specifically, the night you joined me in bed and bit me."

He hopped up on his bed, watching her through narrowed eyes.  "What about it?"

She walked over to him, crossing her arms over her chest.  "Well, actually, it's the sex part that has me pissed.  But, you know, that's just me."  Wow, she'd just... laid that right out there, hadn't she?  "William told me what you said, and I want you to know right now that I'm very not okay with you at the moment."

"Then why are you here?" he asked, his face a mask of nothingness.  He took a slow, unhurried drag off his cigarette, watching her closely.

She turned away with a frown.  Why wasn't he trying to deny it?  "Unfortunately, I need your help catching the shapeshifter.  I'd go to Willy's and pay someone to help me, but--"

"You bloody well will not," Spike yelled, grabbing her by the arms much the same as William had the night before.  Her bruised flesh wasn't too happy about being touched again, and neither was she.

Before she could yank herself out of his grip, he dropped his hands from her arms and frowned down at them.  Take away her anger-fun, she thought with a pout.

"I don't feel like being manhandled all night, so--" she stopped when he continued to stare at his hands.  "What, did I give you cooties or something?" she asked sarcastically.

He shook his head, dropping his hands to his sides.  "Well, you should be very happy to know that the chip is once again in working order."  His voice was bitter and angry.

To say she was happy was an understatement.  One bad factor had been taken out of the equation, and she could at least feel safe around him again.  And, yay, William's was probably working again too, which meant, no dead people on her conscience in the past.  She *was* happy, but she didn't like that he was unhappy about it.  "I'm sorry.  For you," she stressed, "but not for the rest of the human population.  Having a friend who kills people?  Not a good thing."

"I haven't killed anyone human in a long time.  Just because the chip was inactive doesn't mean I ran right out and killed a bunch of people."
He sounded angry, and she guessed she could understand that, because she had expected him to do just that.  Both him and William.  William had, of course, but Spike hadn't.  That was a pleasant surprise, but it didn't mean he was suddenly a hunky-dory person.  Especially since he wasn't a person.  He was a mean, evil, sometimes helpful demon.

"Well... good," was all she could think to say.  Moving back to the original conversation, she sighed and sat on the arm of his chair.  "The sex thing I'm guessing, was a result of mistaken identity or something, and at the moment I don't... well, yes I do care."  She looked down at her hands, not wanting to see his face when he told her it was just a big mistake.  "Why did you do it?"

She heard him take a deep breath and let it out slowly, but she didn't look up.

"I was with Dru for over a century.  You know that?" he asked idly, not waiting for her to answer.

Now she did look up, but his eyes weren't on her, they were far away, in the past.  Sitting in the chair, she watched him silently, letting him have his say.

"She was everything I ever wanted or needed.  Everything that my world consisted of.  She was the reason for me being.  I loved her like I never loved anyone.  As a human or a demon."  He sighed, anger showing a little in his sharp gesture to the town around them.  "Then we came here, and suddenly I was too human for her.  Too weak, not demon enough.  Not monster enough."

Not for the first time, Willow wondered how Dru could not love Spike.  She herself was falling in love with him.  She could admit that now.  Maybe not completely head over heels yet, so deep that she'd never crawl back out again, but she was getting there.

"Then there was Buffy," he continued, snapping her out of her musings.  "And suddenly *she* was everything I wanted.  What I needed.  But for her, I wasn't human enough.  I was too much of a demon; too much of a monster."  He paused, staring at the wall behind her.  "The night we fought Glory, she invited me in.  Looked right at me and invited me in."  His brow furrowed at the memory.  "We might've all been going off to die that night, so I had to tell her.  Tell her she made me feel like a man, not a monster."

Willow waited for him to continue, not wanting to push him.  He had a point, and he would get to it eventually.

"She was halfway up the stairs.  I remember it like it was yesterday."  A small smile lifted his mouth.  "She stopped and turned around, giving me this *look*.  Like she wasn't sure what to say, or do... wasn't sure what I expected from her.  I didn't expect anything at that point.  That she treated me like a man was enough."  His smile disappeared.  No doubt he was remembering Buffy, and everything that happened that night.  "But it wasn't enough.  I realized that after you brought her back."

Hoping to lighten the mood slightly, she tossed out helpfully, "What about Harmony?"

He snorted, looking at her like she'd said the dumbest thing in the world, and shook the long ashes off his cigarette.  "Harmony never satisfied anything except physical needs."  His grin, the one that made Willow's knees weak, suddenly appeared.  "And sometimes she didn't even--"

Blush and disgusted look firmly in place, Willow looked down, away from him.  "Okay, there *is* such a thing as too much information."  His chuckles had her rolling her eyes.

"Anyway," he continued, the laughter no longer present in his voice, "when Dru came back last year, I was tempted to go with her.  So bloody tempted.  I wanted nothing more than to be with her again.  Just the two of us, cutting a bloody swath across the world.  No Angel, no Angelus, no Buffy," his voice was angry, and she had a feeling he blamed Buffy for him not being able to do it.  "No Scooby Gang, no Watcher, no Dawn."  He sighed deeply, dropping his cigarette to the floor.  "None of you bloody little do-gooders to run into at every turn.  God, I wanted it so badly."

This was something she'd never known about.  All he or Buffy would say was that Dru had come to town for Spike and then left when he refused to go with her.  She hadn't known about his inner struggle and continuing hate of them.  "Why didn't you--"

His eyes shot to hers as he jumped down from the sarcophagus and stamped out his still smoking cigarette.  "I wanted more," he said angrily.  "More than Dru, can you believe that?  She was my dark goddess, my princess.  But she wasn't enough for me anymore.  I craved more than her and her insanity.  More than her hollow looks and platitudes.  She didn't love me, not like I loved her, so I couldn't do it.  Couldn't go with her and do what I wanted to do more than anything else at that point.  And one of the reasons was standing there, chained up, glaring at me, telling me to kill Dru, but making sure I knew it didn't mean anything to her.  I hated Buffy more in that moment than at any other time I think.  Loved her more too."

Willow could only stare at him.  He was telling her more than she'd ever wanted to know.  More than she needed to know.  Why was he telling her all this?  That Dru and Buffy were the two loves of his life, and she was, what, an insignificant thing to have sex with?  Like Harmony?  Someone to satisfy his needs?  She didn't want to hear anymore, but she couldn't stop him due to the tightness in her chest, and the tears threatening to fall.

"Buffy.  God," he said self-deprecatingly, "could I have picked a worse person to fall in love with?  Probably not.  But I did.  Love her, I mean.  After she died that night, with Glory, I thought I was going to die too.  This hurt was worse than it ever was with Dru, just because I knew Dru was walking around somewhere."  He laughed dryly.  "Probably got herself a harem by now.  She wasn't always the most loyal demon," he confided, as if she didn't know Dru had taken up with Angelus the moment he showed up.  Didn't know how much she hurt him, enough to make him cry on Willow's shoulder one night.  She didn't tell him that, just nodded sympathetically.  She didn't have to fake the sad smile.

"But, I didn't die, right?  Went on living.  Even got on rather well with you all, helped the world a little.  Took out the evil in Sunnydale, and got to be there when you brought her back."

His angry eyes bore into hers, and she was once again back on solid ground.  She knew this anger, she knew what this was about.  Straightening her back, she looked right at him, not flinching the slightest bit.  "I'd do it again if I could.  In fact, William's supposed to--"

"Supposed to what?" he demanded, stalking closer to her.  "What did you do?"  His eyes were haunted and angry.

She shook her head dismissively.  "Nothing.  I just told him about the shapeshifter, and how to keep it from happening again."

He stared at her for a few seconds before nodding, satisfied.

"You should be happy, you'll be getting Buffy back.  Again."  She laughed humorlessly, blinking back tears.  "Third time's a charm, right?"

He turned away with a shrug.  "Doesn't matter.  I don't want Buffy anymore.  Well, no, that's a lie.  I still want her, still love her.  But my mind knows it's not enough anymore.  She's not enough."

Wow, this just got worse and worse.  He didn't want to want Buffy, but he did.  He still loved her, still wanted her.  Even after having just slept with Willow.  Fighting back the feelings of worthlessness, she sighed and asked the question that'd been weighing on her mind since the moment William told her about them.  "What does this have to do with me?"

"I'm not a loner.  I hate being alone, in fact.  Hate it with a bloody passion about covers it.  That's why I got into bed with you.  That's why I didn't stop you when you kissed me.  Why I wanted it to go further than a few simple, chaste kisses."

"So you used me because you hate being alone?"  Okay, that was not what she'd expected.  A small amount of like or affection being admitted to yes, but pure loneliness driving him to have sex with someone just because she was near and receptive?  No, that had never entered her mind.  "Great," she said trying not to let her anger show, "everything's all explained away.  Can we go now?  I'd like to find the shapeshifter and get home.  My parents might realize I'm gone, and I'd like that not to happen."  She pushed past him, heading out the door, almost positive she hadn't been able to keep her anger a secret.

"It wasn't just loneliness," he said softly, shutting the door behind them as they headed into the cemetery.  "You're the--"

"Wait a minute," she said, coming to a dead stop, having just now realized what he'd said.  "What do you mean, when *I* kissed *you*?  I didn't..." she trailed off, not sure he wasn't telling the truth.  It was very likely she had kissed him.  She had, after all, been dreaming about William.  But it wasn't a dream.  It was reality, and it was what had happened.  There'd been no dream-part to it at all.  "I kissed you?"

He chuckled, not unkindly, and nudged her arm.  "Yeah.  But I wasn't exactly blameless either," he said magnanimously.

"Darn straight you're not," she mumbled with a little less fire than before.  What if he hadn't wanted to do anything with her, but didn't want to hurt her feelings, so he'd just... oh, please, she scoffed, he had pity sex with a partially sleeping girl to keep from hurting her feelings?  An evil vampire sparing her feelings?  Uh-huh, made all the sense in the world.  Not.

Besides, he'd admitted to being lonely, so obviously he wasn't adverse to it.  Still, what was the reasoning behind that whole long speech he'd just given her over the merits of Dru and Buffy?

"So," she began slowly, not sure she wanted to know the answer anymore, but not able to keep herself from asking.  "Not that I didn't enjoy that trip down memory lane, which I didn't, but, was there a reason behind it?  A point maybe?"  She turned her eyes up to his, pleased to see a smile rather than a scowl.

He looked up at the night sky.  The sun had only set a few minutes before, during their conversation.  No stars were out yet, no moon.  But apparently it held a lot of fascination for him.  "Yeah.  I was explaining why I didn't want Dru or Buffy anymore."

The exasperation she felt wasn't well hidden behind her rolled eyes.  "And that would be because...?" she encouraged.

"They left me wanting more."  He shrugged, like they were talking about a football game rather than his love life.  "You don't.  You *are* the more, Willow."

She was positive her heart stopped beating in that instant.  Positive, because her feet stopped working, and she tripped over nothing, and he was walking on, oblivious to her staring after him in shock and amazement and mouthing the words, 'Oh my God'.

Finally, after a good thirty seconds she felt something thumping in her chest, and was relieved to find her heart once again in working order.  Though her thoughts were anything but.  He was still walking ahead of her, as if he hadn't just said the most romantic thing she'd ever heard.  And to her, no less.

(????)

Merle was once again standing before the Bosses, but this time, there was no anger aimed his way, it was all directed toward the warlock that'd just appeared.  Merle's skin was still crawling just beneath the surface from the magical arrival, and the evil pouring off of the man standing regally between him and the table with the Bosses.

"You know what the deal was," the warlock told the three figures seated at the table.  "And, as yet, I've seen no sign of my witch running toward the nearest insane asylum.  Time's running short."

Buffy, looking like she was fighting all her Slayer instincts, sat ramrod straight, not making the smallest move to attack the man, though it was obvious to everyone present that she very much wanted to.  "She isn't your *anything*," she ground out through clenched teeth.

Giles, trying to ease tensions, placed his hand warningly on the slayer's shoulder and addressed the warlock.  "We know the deal.  Why are you here--"

But the slayer just couldn't stop herself from interrupting her Watcher.  "We still have two months.  Aren't you jumping the gun a little?"

Merle's eyes widened at her defiance in the face of such a powerful being.  Evil absolutely flowed off of him in waves that battered Merle like a ship at sea.  He himself wasn't exactly a card carrying member for the side of good anymore, but he was nowhere near as bad as this guy.  Was Mother Theresa compared to him, in fact.

Everything about the warlock was long, tall, and thin. He stood with his hands behind his back, and his head tilted to the side, looking regal, and imperious.  The long, flowing brown cloak that touched the floor to pool around his feet only added to the image.  His long brown hair was tied back with a leather thong; quite the stereotypical look for a warlock.

Instead of answering the slayer, his intense brown eyes, the most prominent feature in his long, unremarkable face, turned to Merle, focusing on him enough to make him nervous.

"Do you think this boy can get the job done?" he asked the trio at the table.

Merle's back straightened and he had to force himself not to pummel the man.  It probably wouldn't do a bit of good, since he wasn't actually there.  The image in front of them was just a magical projection.  Still, he seriously wanted to hurt the guy.  "I'll get the job done," he answered tightly.

"That remains to be seen," the warlock taunted, dismissing him from his attention.  He strode over to the table, facing the three seated occupants.  "Four months is all I'll give you.  Two of those are gone, and another is quickly going by.  If..." he paused, staring down the slayer, "my witch, is not at least approaching insanity by the time the third month is through, I'll--"

"You'll nothing!" Giles yelled, standing up and leaning over the table as he slammed his hand down.  The sound echoed throughout the hollow chamber, startling all present, aside from the warlock.  Giles took a deep, steadying breath and sat back down, straightening his shirt as he did so.  "We have two months left, and you'll do nothing until then, you bloody bastard.  Get out."  His voice was authoritative and unyielding.

The warlock burst out laughing as if he'd been entertained by an amusing play.  "You have no authority over me, Rupert.  I control everything.  If you'd like to save your precious charge's soul, you'll stop ordering those around you who are not under your control.  Careful, or I'll take a month's time away from you."

"You can't do that," Xander said angrily, standing up beside Giles, who'd once again jumped to his feet.  Xander looked very much like he wanted to beat on the warlock.  In fact they all did.  Buffy stood up next to her Watcher and the three of them stared him down.

The warlock wasn't cowed in the least.  He was still smiling, and shaking his head, tossing Merle a look as if to say, 'what can you do?'.  Not wanting to find out, Merle stayed silent.  This wasn't his fight... well, not technically.

"I can do that and more," the warlock countered.  "Contract's are meant to be broken."

"Not this one," Giles said smugly, smirking at the warlock.  All of them were smirking now, and Merle had the presence of mind to back away a bit, hoping not to be caught in the melee about to take place.  "Anya!" he called loudly, "perhaps you could join us now?"

Merle's eyes widened when the blond shopgirl he'd killed a few months back emerged from a door behind the trio.  Behind her was the other girl, the kid.  Alive and well and here.  He'd actually known about the still being alive part, it was the here part he hadn't known about.  Seeing all his victims of one night's mass murder in one room, thankfully not paying him any attention, was a little disconcerting.

Anya joined Xander, standing to one side of him and wrapping an arm around his waist as she laid a stack of papers on the table in front of them.  Dawn joined her sister on the other side.

"You see, Rin," Giles said, "you may have covered your ass by hiding your location from us, keeping us from finding you, and quite frankly, killing you, but we too have covered our asses.  The contract you signed wasn't a simple contract; it's bound with magick."

Merle sucked in a breath at the fury showing on Rin's face, and wondered if magically projecting warlocks could kill with a simple look.

"That's impossible," Rin bit out angrily.  "I'd have felt any magick within a mile radius.  You're lying," he decided, smiling again.

"'Fraid not," Buffy said equally as smugly as her Wtcher, crossing her arms over her chest.  "Anya here has a friend who knows someone who knows someone, yadda, yadda.  Bottom line, Rin?  You're bound just as much as we are."  She leaned forward, wrapping a protective arm around her sister.  "And I like that very much."

Rin glared at them all, spluttering.  "You have two months," he shouted, spinning in a circle and disappearing in a cloud of blue smoke.

The hall was silent for a few seconds before shouts and laughter erupted.  "Kick ass," Dawn said triumphantly.

"Yes," Giles agreed with a smile, then turned to Merle.  "Call in the Djin fellow, I believe it's time."  All smiles slipped away, once again replaced by solemn looks.  "And if that doesn't work," he said into the ensuing silence, "we'll have to take Spike from her."

(November 2001)

Willow's steps slowed the closer she got to Xander's grave.  She'd been by this grave, and all the others', numerous times since their deaths, feeling nothing more than a sense of loss and regret.  Now, over a month later, it was time to grieve.  To say goodbye.

She'd already been to the other cemeteries, said goodbye to Buffy and Dawn.  Giles had a small marker beside Buffy's, but he wasn't there.  His body had been sent for by the Watcher's Council, and returned to England.  Willow was happy he'd gone back to England, she knew he'd missed it a lot more than he ever let on.  Anya was here, in the same cemetery as Xander, but not beside him.  She'd been buried simply as Anya Emerson.  No other words adorned her small marker, since she was a former demon with no past to speak of.

She took a deep breath and made her way to Xander's grave.  That stupid spell she'd done had taken something from her.  She'd thought to simply control her emotions and concentrate on finding the demon that did it, but in doing so, she'd done a disservice to her friends, and never truly said goodbye to them.  Deep down, she still had her hopes pinned on Past Spike, but as nothing had changed yet, and they were no closer to finding the demon to undo the dampening spell, those hopes were fading.

She stopped for a minute, standing in the sunshine before taking those last few steps into the shade where Xander was buried.  It was a good spot.  He had a tree all to himself, and a marble angel overlooking him from a nearby mausoleum.

"Even now you've got an angel to contend with," she chuckled through a sob.  Kneeling down in front of his headstone, she ducked her head, ashamed of herself for not visiting him even once since his death.  She threaded her hands through the grass, not sure how to start.  So she didn't.  Just being there, and thinking about him, remembering him, was enough for now.

After a few minutes, she sighed, and reached out to touch his headstone.  "I'm so sorry for not coming sooner, but I did something really stupid, with magick, and it's all fixed now, and I'm here, but... I'm sorry."

Tears slipped from her eyes as she laid down beside the mound of dirt her friend was buried in.  She rested her hand atop the new grass, and closed her eyes.  "I miss you, Xander."

(November 2001)

Willow dropped to the ground, dodging the fist headed for her face.  The vampire didn't even pause.  His other hand shot out, grabbing a handful of her hair.  She yelled in pain and surprise when he yanked her up solely by her hair, and threw her backwards.  She landed in a heap by a headstone, thanking all sorts of powers for not having landed *on* the headstone.

Spike, however, wasn't as lucky.  He went sailing past her, landing with a painful thump on a headstone behind her.  Being a vampire, he was up almost immediately, charging the two vampires.  He ran headlong into both of them.  All three bodies fell to the ground amid snarls and growls.

Willow sat up with a grunt, watching as first one body, then another exploded into dust.  Thankfully Spike wasn't one of them.  He fell backwards, collapsing on the ground with a loud sigh.

"That makes six vampires and two demons.  All in one night.  You definitely stay home from now on," he told her.  "I don't know how Buffy did it."  He rolled his head to the side, looking at her.  "No offense, love, but you hinder more than help."

Willow's back straightened and her eyes flashed fire.  At least, they would have if she wasn't so sore and tired.  "I'm not a hinderer.  I helped Buffy a lot.  We all did."  She crawled over to where he lay, and collapsed beside him.  "Speaking of Buffy... it's been well over a month... have you heard anything about a new Slayer?"

Spike shook his head wearily.  "From who?  The one vampire in the next town over that hasn't heard what a traitor I've become?"

She patted his arm sympathetically.  "Where do you think she is then?  The new Slayer, I mean."

Spike shrugged.  "Watcher's Council probably sent her somewhere else."

Willow thought about it for a minute.  "Would they really do that?  Send her somewhere other than where a big ole Hellmouth is?  That doesn't make sense."

"They've got--had--two slayers who didn't play by their rules.  They lost face with not only Buffy and Faith, but also with Giles."

Willow yawned and rolled onto her side.  She wanted to curl up against Spike, but didn't dare to.  After their conversation last week, they'd avoided all topics leading to what they felt.  Avoided almost all touching, but for the smallest gestures.  Nothing was resolved, but it wasn't unresolved either.  It made sense to her in her head, but when she tried to explain it in words, it just didn't make any sense at all.  Still, she'd found it harder and harder to stay on topic when she was around him.  Found it hard to keep her thoughts in line.

She sighed, annoyed at herself for once again letting those thoughts sneak in.  "Or, there is no new slayer."

Spike rolled onto his side as well, facing her and raising onto one elbow.  "Why not?  One dies, the next is called and all that.  That's how it works."

"Well, yeah.  But, Buffy died once already, maybe there aren't any more after that.  Otherwise, the Watcher's Council, being the wankers that they are, probably would've pulled a Flatliners."  Seeing his confused look, she explained, "Keeping some Slayers on life support, killing them and then bringing them back to life again.  They could make an army like that."

Spike grinned.  "Wankers?  You've been hanging around me too long.  Wait a sec, did you say Buffy died once before?"

"Uh-huh.  The Master killed her.  It was in a prophecy and everything.  The Anointed One led her to The Master, The Master bit her, then threw her face down in a pool of water.  She drowned."

Spike rolled his eyes.  "The Anointed One... that bloody little bastard.  Glad I killed him when I first got to town."

Willow snorted.  "Yeah, it's not like you ever tried to kill her.  Or me.  Or--"

Spike cleared his throat, talking over her.  "So, how'd she survive then?"

"Xander and Angel found her.  Xander did CPR on her.  That's how Kendra was called."

"Who?"

"Kendra?  Tall, beautiful, Jamaican--or something--accent?  Helped drop an organ on you... the one that Drusilla killed?"

He nodded, finally getting who she was talking about.  "Right, right.  Should've said that last bit first.  What's with the anger?"

She chanced a quick look at him.  He'd admitted it no more than a few days ago; Dru was still someone he loved.  Would he applaud her?  Smile and beam with pride for his princess?

Her voice, when she finally responded, was void of emotion.  "While you were off making nice with Buffy, your precious Dru was busy killing Kendra, kidnapping Giles for Angelus to torture, and giving Xander the first of many casts on his arm.  You may have a soft spot for her, but I don't."  Well, not completely devoid of emotion, a little had slipped in there despite her best efforts.

But, Spike hardly seemed to notice it, he was too busy smiling reminiscently.  "Dru always did like big to do's.  Never did anything small.  So, where were you while all that was going on?"

She shrugged.  "Up in the stacks, under a bookcase.  Happily ensconced in coma-land."

He sighed and shook his head.  "I'm glad you're not dead.  Good thing I didn't know, I'd probably have--"

"Finished me off in the hospital, or cheered Dru on as she killed me?" she interrupted dryly.

He grinned unabashedly.  "Yeah.  Sounds about right."  And then, completely going against their unspoken rule about touching, he caught her hand as she playfully pushed at him.  As if that weren't enough, he went even further and wrapped his own hand around hers, twining their fingers as he kissed the back of her hand, his cool lips pressing lightly against her flesh.

It was on the tip of her tongue to chastise him, and yank her hand back, but she was a little busy shivering at the feel of his lips on her skin.  She tossed a hasty glance at him, hoping he hadn't seen her reaction.  He had.  She was caught by his stare.  Was this it then?  The moment she'd been waiting for since he'd made her heart stop?

Was she about to find out what he wanted from her?  Seeing his eyes so focused on hers, she could almost imagine she saw desire there, but, no, it was just amusement.

Pulling her hand from his, she stood up.  "Come on, old man, let's go."  The moment was over, so she felt safe in holding her hand out to him to help him up.  It was a very clinical thing to do.

He took her hand, yanking her down to his level.  "Here now, who you calling 'old man'?" he growled at her.

She pushed him backwards, and he pulled her with him, and suddenly, oh God, she was laying on top of him.  What about the rules? she wanted to yell at him, but she couldn't say a thing to save her life.

Or her heart.

The next thing she knew, they were in one of those cartoon-ish situations that you think never happen in real life.

Nervous with the closeness, and the feelings shooting through her from contact with him, she tried to push herself away from him, but she forgot to put her hands on the ground beside him, and ended up pressing down on his stomach.  He shot up in surprise, dislodging her from her kneeling position.  She fell forward, hitting Spike's forehead with her own.

The moment no longer fraught with desire and longing, she giggled madly, unable to hold back when faced with his scowl.  His scowl deepened, and she laughed harder.

"Just what's so funny, love?  Hmm?" he asked, a devilish grin curling his lips.  "This?"  He tickled her sides until she was left gasping.  "Or maybe this."  He rolled them over, held her arms above her head in one hand, being careful of the one in the cast, while trailing his fingers down the inside of her arm.  She shivered, giggling even more.  "Ticklish, love?  Ah, that's too bad," he teased, "because, as you know, I'm all about torture."

Willow tried to get her arms free, but he wouldn't let her.  "Spike," she giggled, "Stop.  Please."  She raised her knees behind him, hoping to dislodge him.  He was pushed further forward, and she sucked in a breath at the intimate contact.

Suddenly, he leaned over, and she was afraid that he was going to kiss her, and equally afraid he wouldn't.  She knew that if he did, she wouldn't be able to deny him, to stop him.  To pretend she didn't care.  But he didn't kiss her.  He put his hand over her mouth and looked past her.

"Quiet," he whispered, his lips touching her ear.  She shivered, mentally cursing her body for being so pathetic.  If ever there was a time not to be turned on by Spike, it was now.  She tried to move, in order to look behind her, but Spike held her still, his yellow eyes practically glowing in the dark.  A shiver of fear worked its way through her.

His eyes snapped to hers, then back to the darkness around them.  A noise to her left drew his attention and he climbed off of her.  Willow admired him as he moved stealthily toward the trees.  He once again reminded her of a panther, bringing back memories of William, and the first time they'd made love.  No, she corrected, had sex.  They'd had sex.  She and Tara had made love.  She and Oz had made love.  She and William had had sex.

And most definitely, she and Spike had had sex.

Spike slipped into the darkness, disappearing like the good little creature of the night he was, only to return a minute later, shrugging.  "Nothing there.  Must've been a cat or something."

"Oh."  She stood up, wondering if he'd faked the noise just to get away from her.  She straightened her clothes, brushing the grass and leaves off.  "Another night, another waste of time.  We're never going to find the shapeshifter.  Not until it wants us to anyway.  That stupid location spell doesn't work worth a damn."  A thought hit her, and she chuckled humorlessly.  "Not that we would know how to kill it if we did run into it."

Spike slung his arm around her shoulders and grinned down at her.  "I ever tell you you're a pessimist, Willow?"

"Aww, thanks, Spike.  I ever tell you you're the sweetest vampire I've ever met?"

"Bite your tongue, Witch."  He hooked a thumb at himself, giving her a haughty look.  "I, am not sweet.  See?"  He vamped out and showed her his fangs.

She studied him closely, turning his head this way and that.  "That whole grr-y thing and stuff?  I'm over it.  It's just not scary anymore.  It's cute... like a teddy bear."

Spike looked offended.  "Am too scary.  Let's go find some humans and I'll vamp out.  Come on.  Bet *they'd* run screaming."

Willow shrugged, and, ooo, his arm was still around her shoulders.  "If you really want me to be afraid of you, try to kill me.  That should do it."

His arm tightened around her.  "I don't want you afraid.  Where would be the fun in that?  I just want you."

Willow drew in a breath, wishing he meant that, wishing he'd stop with the incessant teasing.  "Well you can't have me, I like my blood just where it's at, thank you very much."

She started to walk in the direction of the entrance, but Spike spun her around.  His eyes were so full of want and need that Willow's stomach did a little flip-flop.  One look from Spike could do that to her.  And now he knew it.

"Not your blood.  You.  I want to kiss you."  He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to hers, while she stared at him with wide, shocked eyes.  "I want to touch every inch of you."  His mouth slid down her neck, trailing small kisses along her heated flesh.  "I want to make love to you."  He closed the minute distance between them by pressing his hand on her lower back, forcing her into him so that she could feel his erection.  "I want to watch you as you go over the edge... and I want to be the one to take you there."  His mouth finally settled over hers, devouring her with such intensity, that Willow had trouble breathing.

Unsure what was happening, what had caused such a turn around in him, she tore her mouth away from his.  "What--"

He put his finger on her lips.  "I love you."

She stared at him in shock, sure that she was dreaming.

~Part: 17~

(November 2001)

Willow woke up to someone slapping her face.  She looked up... at the stars?  The dream that had seemed so real, was rapidly disappearing in her panic.  She sat up, looking around her.  She was in a cemetery, and that was Spike's hand doing the slapping.

"What am I doing sleeping in a cemetery?"

Spike laughed humorlessly.  "Sleeping?  You were knocked out by a demon.  Remember?  Big?  Dark blue with gold symbols all over it?"

Willow sat up with a frown, feeling lost.  There it was again, that loss of control.  She really didn't like that.  "Um, when?  Last I remember we were--"  Oh, no you don't.  Let him tell you the last thing that happened.  Obviously it had all just been a dream.  A very pleasant dream, but a dream nonetheless.  "Um, what were we doing?"

Spike sat on a headstone and regarded her curiously.  "You don't remember?"

"Sure.  I remember we-- um, *you* fought a couple of vampires, and then we were talking about the next slayer being called.  Right?"

Spike nodded slowly.  "Yeah.  That all happened."

Standing was a little more difficult than sitting up had been.  She swayed a little, feeling like she hadn't slept in a week.  A yawn escaped her and she had to force her eyes open.  "Um, then you heard a noise, and went to look, but there was nothing there."

"Wrong."

Her eyes flew to his.  So it *had* been just a dream.  Of course it was.  Spike... her Spike, would never kiss her, at least not while she was fully awake.  Never tell her he wanted her.  That he loved her.  Her heart suddenly felt tight in her chest, and she was having trouble breathing.  She sat back down, drawing in air.  "So, what did happen?"

"Never mind that," he told her, striding over to her and pulling her up.  "Let's go."  He put his arm around her shoulders, and steered her toward the cemetery entrance.

Again with the arm.  Willow shrugged out from under him and backed away a few feet.  "What are you doing?  What happened?"  She hadn't lost her memory again, had she?  She took a deep breath and faced him, hoping to put her mind at ease.  "Did it happen again?  The spell backfire?"

He rolled his eyes impatiently.  "It doesn't matter.  Let's just go home... "  He ran his eyes over her seductively.  "Where I can shag you in private."

"Shag?" she yelped.  "What?  Why?"  What was going on here?  She was so confused.

He was watching her intently, his eyes flashing with hunger as he closed the distance between them.  He took her hand and pressed it against his erection.  "If you don't know why," he whispered huskily, "then maybe you need a reminder."

Completely freaked out by him, she yanked her hand away.  "Stop it.  What's the matter with you?"  She stomped away from him.  "Gotta be dreaming again," she mumbled.

(November 2001)

Spike didn't know what to do.  Willow was still out.  It'd been two hours since the demon had attacked her.  Two hours since he'd returned from checking out the noise and found her unconscious on the grass, a big blue demon with gold symbols on it, standing over her.  The demon, in the process of picking Willow up, had dropped her and run when Spike attacked him.  Spike had then carried her to the magick shop, and broken in the back door.  Things went a little more smoothly this time than when he broke in with Dawn.

He threw another book on the table, his frustration mounting with every passing minute.  The answer had to be here somewhere, in one of these blasted books.  But he hadn't found anything yet, except his helplessness.  Not even knowing how to go about finding the bloody demon, Spike cursed himself for not having paid more attention during their research sessions.  Maybe then he'd know which books contained the demon he needed.  Finding the reversal spell for the emotional control screw-up was easier than this.

At least Willow's life hadn't been in immediate danger.

As if hearing his thoughts, she moaned and whimpered, obviously in the throes of a nightmare.  He swept the books to the floor in one clean sweep, wishing that at least one of their friends had survived the massacre-- Tara.  Tara was alive, and damn if she wasn't a witch!  Spike could have smacked himself for not remembering her earlier.  He hoped it wasn't too late.

Halfway out the door, he stopped.  He couldn't leave Willow alone here, not in the condition she was in.  Giles had to have the witch's number here somewhere.  He went around the counter and searched for a phone book, anything with phone numbers.  He found it almost immediately.  Dialing the girl's number, he swallowed his distaste for her and told her what had happened, and asked her to come to the Magic Box.

Willow whimpered again and Spike sat down beside her.  Her hair was plastered to her face with sweat, her skin was flushed, and a frown had formed on her brow.  Smoothing her hair back, he was surprised to feel cool flesh instead of heated.  He'd thought she was feverish.  She shuddered at his touch and pulled away from him with a moan.  He felt inexplicably hurt by her actions... as if she knew it was him, and was rejecting him.

He took her hand, partially to comfort her and partially to reassure himself that she wasn't rejecting him, just her dream phantoms.  She didn't pull away this time, but snuggled closer to him with a sigh.

This was the first time he'd truly been able to touch her since their conversation in his crypt.  Since the night she'd kept silent after his declaration of... love?  No.  He hadn't declared his love for her, he'd vowed never to do that again after Buffy.  He had piss-poor luck when it came to love, didn't he?  Fell in love too easily, and with the wrong women.  Why was he plagued with these feelings so much?

He blamed it all on that blasted poet he'd been before getting turned.  Damned sensitive wanker, if he hadn't been such a pansy, Spike wouldn't feel every little thing as deeply as he did.  He'd go through life with little regard for others, killing, maiming, torturing... ah, good times.  But, no, that couldn't be his simple life.  He had to feel and want and hunger and need.

Feel and want and hunger and need to have his love returned.  Buffy'd been the worst.  She'd broken his heart just as badly as Dru and Cecily.  Maybe more.  And now Willow?  Yeah, he'd definitely fallen in love with her sometime in the past few months.  Maybe even before that.

There'd definitely been some ogling going on when he first got chipped.  At their research sessions, he'd cheerfully looked up Buffy's skirts, admired Willow's rear when she bent over in view of him, saw through a couple of her shirts... and when Willow was dying inside from the wolf's loss, he'd noticed.  Probably only because he'd so recently felt the same, but it could've been more than that, couldn't it?

He'd certainly always found her attractive.  Smoothing her hair away from her face with a sigh, he shifted slightly, rearranging her on his lap.

Truth was, he'd told Willow more than he'd ever intended to, more than he should have.  That was obvious now.

What had he been thinking when he told her she was the 'more' he was searching for?  Bloody hell, had to be the leftover bits of his human, poetic mind interfering, screwing things up for him.

She hadn't even responded to the declaration.  She'd stopped walking, and he could hear her heartbeat speed up, and he'd been so hopeful, thinking maybe she felt something close to what he felt for her.  He'd left the decision entirely up to her.

When she finally ran to catch up with him, his heart had tried to start beating.

When she remained silent, his heart did the same.

Well now, he thought, aren't you just the poetic ponce?

Even still, he'd been able to justify her lack of response to himself.  Maybe she was afraid of his feelings for her, or her feelings for him, or both.  And she'd only just broken up with Tara recently.  Plus she had that fling with William.  He'd ignored the thought that that should make her want *him* too.  Maybe she didn't like what he'd become.  Maybe she liked the danger of being with William.

Sure were a lot of maybes.

He traced his hand down her face, and leaned down to kiss her lips lightly.  She moaned again, still in distress, locked in another nightmare.

He'd told Willow that she was everything he was looking for, everything he'd been lacking, and he'd meant it.  She satisfied every part of him.  His heart, his mind, his body, his sense of humor, his... everything.

And now, because he couldn't keep his mouth shut, there was an unspoken rule between them; no talking about that night, no talking about their feelings, and no touching.  Tonight, he'd broken that rule.  And look what'd happened.  Well that changes.  As soon as she woke up, he was telling her exactly how he felt, and giving her an ultimatum.  If she didn't feel the same way, or wasn't amenable to a relationship with him, he'd leave town.

Leave Sunnydale behind once and for all.  That decided, he sat back more comfortably, and kissed Willow's forehead as he waited for her ex to get there.

Tara finally arrived twenty minutes later, rushing through the door in a panic, her hair flying all around her, books falling to the floor.  Not seeming to notice the books, she left them where they were and ran to Willow.  Spike stepped back, giving the girl room, though what he really wanted to do was pull her away from Willow.  He'd still been holding Willow, just enjoying actually being able to do that when he heard Tara coming.  Setting her down had been one of the hardest things he'd had to do in a while, but he'd done it, and stood away, moving slightly away from her.

"What happened?" Tara asked, running her hands over Willow, checking for injuries.

Not liking the familiar way she touched Willow, Spike spoke more harshly than he intended.  "She doesn't have any wounds.  She's... asleep, as far as I can tell.  Heart rates normal.  So's her breathing."

She only then seemed to *really* notice him there.  Her eyes flickered from Willow to him, and he was surprised to see a healthy dose of dislike in her gaze before she looked away again.  "Asleep?  Is it a sleep spell?  Did someone do that?  A sleep spell, I mean."  She rolled her eyes at herself, her stumbling questions completely ruining the in charge effect she was striving for.

Spike almost felt sorry for her... but, no, he really didn't.  "A demon.  Big blue thing with gold... lettering or symbols or something on his arms and face."  He wondered, as he studied her, why she and Willow had broken up.  All he knew was that they had, but he suspected William factored in there somehow.  Did Tara know Willow had slept with his younger self?

Her eyes suddenly went wide.  "Are you sure they were gold?  Th-- they weren't silver?"

Spike had to clench his fists to keep from snapping at her.  "I'm sure.  Why?"

Tara wasn't paying attention to him any longer.  She'd rushed over to her forgotten books and was sorting through them.  Or throwing them, rather.  Finally, she grabbed a small, thin, bright red book, and brought it to the table to read.

Spike waited impatiently until she found what she was looking for, then even more impatiently when she didn't tell him anything.  "Well?" he snapped.

She looked up from the book, her eyes falling on Willow.  "She's been claimed by a Dream Djin."  Her voice shook slightly.

"Great," he said in relief, "now that we know what it is, how do I kill it?  How do we wake her up?"  This he could do, take action.  It was the sitting around and reading part that got to him, frustrated him.  He raised a questioning brow at her when she remained silent.  "Witch?"

She shook her head slowly.  "We don't.  She has to wake herself up.  She has to figure it out, and make herself wake up."

Was that despair lacing her voice?  He thought it just might be.  Confusion settled over him.  "How's she supposed to do that?"

"I don't know if she can."

And once again, there went his heart trying to beat in his chest.

(November 2001)

Willow stared at the vampire before her, wondering if she'd lost her mind, because she couldn't have heard him right.  "You love me?"  Something about this scene felt familiar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it.  She and Spike were patrolling, looking for a blue demon with gold sigils on it, but the cemetery seemed rather dead.  Not of the vampire kind, just the buried in the ground kind.  Then suddenly, from out of nowhere, Spike grabbed her hand and proclaimed his love for her.

And now he was nodding, a seductive smile turning up his lips as his eyes roamed over her.  "With all my heart."  He pulled her closer, cradling her face in his hands.  "I want to be with you forever."  He kissed her lips lightly, and wrapped his arms around her.  "Always."  His lips brushed against her neck.

Willow pulled back, a bit afraid of him.  She saw the golden glow of his eyes and her own widened.  She took a few very large steps back, watching him warily.  She chuckled nervously.  "But, not in a vampire way?  Right?"

His face vamped out in answer and he stalked toward her.  "It's the only way we can be together forever," he said reasonably.

Willow held her hand out to halt his progress.  "But.  You said you loved me," she yelled in a panic.

He stopped and grinned.  "I did," he agreed.

"Then, um, if you kill me, and-- and turn me, the part you love about me will be gone.  Forever.  My soul?" she said sadly, "kaput."

Spike shrugged and grabbed her by the shoulders.  "It's not your soul I love," he whispered, biting into her neck.

Willow screamed and shoved him away.  This was just another nightmare.  It had to be.  She needed to wake up, that's all.  She turned to run and fell flat on her face.  She moaned and climbed hastily to her feet... in the Magic Box?

"Huh?  How did I get here?"  She blinked a few times, feeling exhausted.  Oh, right, she'd fallen asleep here.  She glanced around, looking for the others, sure that they'd all been there, researching some kind of funky blue demon with gold things on it.

But now, Spike was the only one there.  The shop was dark aside from a few candles on the table.  She carefully approached Spike, who was curled up on the big chair, with his back to her.  She shook his shoulder lightly.  "Spike."

He groaned and stretched a bit, rolling over with a yawn.  "Red?"  His eyes widened and he sat up quickly.  "Willow."  He stood up and pulled her with him to the other side of the room.

She watched him warily, wondering what he was up to.  "Spike?  What are you doing?  What's--" and then she saw it.  Her.  Saw her.  "Tara?"  Tara was just getting up from the chair Spike had been asleep in.  All she had on was her blouse, which barely reached the tops of her thighs.

"Willow."  She bit her lip nervously and her eyes shot to Spike's.

Willow yanked her arm out of Spike's grip and turned to him, accusation plain on her face.  "You slept with her?"  She turned back to Tara, hurt and pain ripping through her.  "Tara, how... oh, God," she whispered.  She backed away from the two of them, wanting to be as far away as possible.

Tara went to Spike, putting her arm around his waist and leaning into him.  Spike wrapped his arm around Tara's shoulders, smirking at Willow.  "Sorry, Red, you've been replaced.  You served your purpose; I never fell for Buffy.  But now your usefulness has ended."

"Willow, I really did love you.  Really," Tara said with a giggle, unable to keep a straight face.  Spike's chuckles joined Tara's and turned into hysterical laughter.  At Willow's expense.

Willow turned and ran, feeling like she'd stumbled into a nightmare dreamscape.  This one was worse than the last one.  At least then it had only been Spike betraying her, not William and Tara.  She ran through the darkened streets to her house, shoved open her front door, and almost knocked down a startled Spike.

"Willow?  What happened?"  He reached out to steady her, but she jerked away.

"Don't touch me."  She walked stiffly past him, upstairs to her room.  He followed her, leaning against the doorjamb as she collapsed on her bed with a sob.  "Go away," she whispered miserably.

He pushed away from the wall and knelt down beside her.  "What is it, Willow?"  His hand smoothed down her back, calming her somewhat.

This was Spike, not William.  This Spike hadn't betrayed her with Tara.  Okay, so Willow had betrayed Tara first, but not with someone who hated her.  Oh, wait.  Yes, she had.  She sniffled and lifted her head to look at Spike.  "William and Tara slept together.  At the Magic Box."

Spike's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.  "Not bloody likely," he practically shouted.  "There's no way in hell I'd sleep with that chit," he bit out.  "Ever."

Inexplicably angry at him for insulting Tara, Willow wiped her eyes and sat straighter.  "Well you did."

Spike shook his head, and grabbed her hand.  "No way, baby, I would never cheat on you.  I love you, Willow, not some pasty faced stutterer."  He smiled tenderly, completely ignoring her groan of frustration, and kissed her.

Would she ever actually wake up?  Every time she thought she was awake, something happened to slap that idea down, and the dreams were turning into nightmares.  Horrible nightmares.  "I want to wake up," she groaned.

Spike pulled back with a grin.  "Believe me," he snickered, sliding his hand inside her shirt, "you are awake."  He kissed a trail down her neck and sucked at the flesh there.

"So you say," she sighed, "but I know differently.  Pretty soon you're going to try to bite me and mention some stupid blue demon."  Hey, the blue demon... maybe he was key to waking up.  But how?  And what was she supposed to do?  Find him?  Kill him?  What?

Spike pulled away and Willow sighed, seeing his demonic ridges in place.  She tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes, giving in.  Maybe it wouldn't hurt, she thought, like when William had fed from her.  Maybe it would wake her up.  Maybe-- she screamed as his fangs pierced her flesh, ripping her throat out.

(November 2001)

"How?" Spike asked Tara.  "How is she supposed to wake herself up?  What does she have to do?"

Tara sat down in a chair, blinking at him as if she'd forgotten he was there.  "She has to answer a question."

"A question?" Spike asked in disbelief.  "That's it?"

"No.  It's not a simple question.  It's something that she may not know to be true except subconsciously."  She sighed, not quite able to explain what she meant.  "The Dream Djin poses a question to her in the shape of dreams, and she has to answer it.  It's usually something that the person doesn't see, or want to see.  And it can only be answered truthfully, otherwise she'll-- she'll stay asleep and the Djin will get her soul."

Spike nodded and turned back to face Willow.  He hid his frown from the witch behind him, and refrained from kicking or hitting something to relieve his frustration.  He hadn't just realized his love for Willow just to have her taken away from him.  He wouldn't let that happen again.

"You're a bloody witch, isn't there something you can do?  Go inside her mind or something?  Tell her what she has to do?"  He'd already lost everyone he cared about... loved.  Dru, Buffy... the others, though he'd deny it to the death.  And now it looked like he might lose Willow too.  Well, not if he could help it.  He turned back to Tara, who had once again fallen silent.  "What about that spell she used to go into Buffy's mind?"  Tara still didn't answer, so he snapped at her, "I'm not talking to myself here, Witch."

She jumped up excitedly, a smile lighting her face as she ran behind the counter, grabbing ingredients.  "There's a spell to go into her mind... like you said.  I don't know if it's the same one Willow used or not, but... it should work.  I can go--" her eyes shot to his and she frowned, obviously not liking what she was about to say.  "You'll have to go so I can do the spell.  You go into her dreams and tell her about the Dream Djin, she might know what it is."  She brought some candles to the table, along with a bowl and some herbs.  Her eyes were on the items in her hands, and she was doing her damnedest to avoid looking at him as she passed by.

"And if she doesn't?" Spike asked, watching her.  "Is the Genie going to try to stop me?  Can he kill us?"

Tara flipped on the light above the table area and began putting the ingredients into the bowl.  "Tell her as much as you can.  He'll probably try to stop you, but I don't think he can kill you.  Or Willow," she added quickly.  "You don't... um, you don't have a soul for him to take, so he probably won't even notice you right away."

Spike nodded thoughtfully.  "So I just go into her dreams, find her, tell her what to do and avoid the Genie while I'm at it."  He knelt down beside Willow, resisting the urge to smooth her hair back.  Tara might find that a little suspicious.  Though why he cared what she thought, he had no idea.  Had to be Willow's influence.  Tara would be upset, and then Willow would be upset, which would make him none too happy.  Stupid witch.  "Can I help her answer the question?"

Tara shook her head distractedly as she lit the candles.  "I don't know.  I've never done this before."  She looked at him for a split second, before returning to her task.  "You're kind of on your own here."

Spike snorted.  "Won't be the first time.  Hopefully not the last either."  He stood up, pacing restlessly.  "Let's do this."

"I'm almost ready with this stuff, you need to, um," she cleared her throat and ducked her head, "hold her hand.  Physical contact is necessary."

Spike hid a grin and nodded solemnly.  "Right."  He removed his duster, getting comfortable, and sat down beside Willow, taking her hand in his, closing his eyes to shut out the sight of the blonde witch.  Touching Willow, as always, sent so many different feelings through him.  Want, need, desire, a sense of contentment, and belonging.  A sense of... home.  He had to resist the urge to pull her completely into his arms, and just be content with holding her hand.

"Well?" he drawled, "I'm waiting."

Tara cleared her throat again--getting a cold, Witch?--and started chanting.

(November 2001)

Willow sighed in exasperation when she once again woke up.  This time she knew immediately that she was still dreaming.  It was becoming easier and easier to tell, especially since the cast was no longer on her arm.  She was in her bedroom at her house, alone.  Well, that was unusual.  Since the first dream, she hadn't been alone, someone else was always there... mostly Spike.  Tara had only appeared three times, Xander and Oz, each once, and Buffy twice.  Giles hadn't shown up at all, for which she was kind of grateful.

Sitting up, she wondered what she should do.  Maybe if she stayed here, someone would show up.  Or not show up.  Or she'd wake up.  Or--

"Willow?" Spike called from downstairs.

Crap.  She got up, looking down at her pajamas and shrugged.  Men's pajama pants, and a black t-shirt that looked an awful lot like Spike's shirt.  They weren't her clothes, but who was she to complain?

"Willow?"  His yell was followed by running footsteps on the stairs, and a slamming door.  Her bedroom door.  Flying open to reveal Spike standing there in said black shirt, a worried look on his face.  "There you are.  Do you have any idea how hard it was to find you?  Your mind is... odd."

"Odd?"  She shook her head dismissively.  "Haven't seen you  in a while.  Mostly it's been Tara, or Oz, or... hey, I have an idea.  Why don't you have Oz and Tara sleep together?  That one hasn't been done yet."

Spike's brows dipped down in confusion.  "What are you talking about?  Tara's back at the magic shop--"

"Yeah, I know," she sneered, pacing over to him.  "She's busy sleeping with William, or else she would've come here herself, right?"

"Sleeping with William," he repeated, shuddering.  "Yuck.  No, we did a spell... you're dreaming--"

Willow gasped dramatically and put a hand to her chest, opening her eyes wide in mock surprise.  "I'm... dreaming?  Really?"  She crossed her arms and glared at him.  "Why don't you tell me something I don't know, Spike?"

He grabbed one of her arms and pulled her along with him.  "Come on, let's get out of here before the demon finds us.  I don't really fancy fighting this thing in your dream."

Willow rolled her eyes at his back.  Of course he didn't.  Sick and tired of being led around by this dream demon thingie, Willow decided to take charge.  When they reached the downstairs, she pulled her hand from his and sat down on the couch.

Spike stared at her in disbelief.  "What are you doing?  Come on, we have to get out of here."

"No," she told him, stretching languidly.  She saw his eyes drop to her exposed stomach and rolled her eyes.  This demon had a one-track mind.  Maybe it was a lust demon or something.  Regardless, she needed to let him in on something.  "You're not in charge anymore, I am.  And I choose not to go anywhere with you.  Not to get bit by you... " she fixed her eyes to his.  "And not to be killed by you."

He did a good job of acting guilty.  "Is that what you've been dreaming about?  Me killing you?"  He sat on the arm of the couch with a sigh.

"Yep."  She laid down and closed her eyes.  "And I'm not playing anymore, so go find someone else to seduce."

"Seduce?" he said in surprise.  "Uh, you've been dreaming about me seducing you, love?"

She heard the huskiness of his voice, could imagine his eyes burning into her as he ogled her, and managed to ignore it all.  And him.  "Wonder if there's anything on my dream TV?"

"Willow?" he said, tapping her foot, then cleared his voice, trying again without all that lust in there.  "Willow, we really do have to go.  Now.  Tara's not sure if he can kill us in here or not, so let's not find out, huh?"

"Oh, Tara says so, does she?  Was that before, during, or after you had sex with her?"

"I did not sleep with the witch, and I have no intention of sleeping with her," he said, sounding irritated.  "Can't even stand her, remember?"

She forced a yawn, which wasn't too hard, and stretched a little more.  "Sure, Spike.  Or William.  Or whoever you are this time."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her up.  "Get up, shut up, and come on before the bloody Dream Djin finds out I'm here... trying to save you from losing your soul."

Now that was different, she'd never been told what it was before.  Or what it wanted.  "Dream Djin?  Is that what you are?"

Spike's irritation was palpable at this point.  "No, I'm Spike.  The thing that has you trapped here is the Dream Djin."

"Okay," she said, playing along, "is that what the blue guy is?  With the gold sigils?"

"Yes," he said in exasperation.  "Remember?  We were in the cemetery talking about the next slayer being called?  I heard a noise and went to check it out, but there was nothing there.  When I got back to where I'd left you, I--"

"Yeah, yeah," she said with a sigh.  They were back to the same old thing again.  "You found me, and told me you loved me," she said in a bored voice, not letting the hurt show through.  The pain of betrayal.  It was only a dream Spike that had betrayed her after all.  And a dream Tara.  And Oz, and Buffy, and Xander.  "Blah blah, been there, done that, got the t-shirt."  She plucked at the shirt she was wearing, and shrugged.  "Look familiar?  I'm sure it's yours.  Though, I don't actually know how it got on me.  You know, just once, you could actually finish what you start before ripping my throat out.  It's only common courtesy."

Spike was looking at her like... well, frankly, like she was Drusilla or something.  "Willow, as much as I'd like to just throw you down and have my way with you, again, now is not the time.  I'm not part of your dream.  Tara did a spell to send me here.  A Dream Djin claimed you while I was checking out that noise, and you've been asleep for over three hours."  He pulled her up and out the door with him.  "She said you had to answer a question in order to wake up, otherwise the genie gets your soul, so unless you want to die here, I suggest we get the bloody hell out of here.  Now."

"Nice try, Spike."  She let him pull her along anyway, becoming bored with this dream.  He dragged her outside, and down the street.  She wasn't too surprised to see that they were headed to his crypt.

They made most of the trip in silence, with an occasional comment from Willow.  Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer.  "Are you gonna try to seduce me again?"

Spike looked over his shoulder at her, rolling his eyes.  "For the tenth time, Willow, I'm not part of your dream.  I'm the real Spike.  Not William, not the shapeshifter, not a dream Spike."

"That's what you said the last time.  Then you--"

"A question," he interrupted, sounding desperate.  "Tara said you have to answer a question in order to get out of here.  Otherwise the Dream Djin gets your soul.  Bloody hell, Willow, help me out here."

She shrugged, still not believing him, but allowing for the possibility.  "Okay, fine.  What's the question?"

They reached his crypt, and he opened the door for her.  She went past him and sat in his chair while he leaned against one of the pillars.

"Don't know.  She thought you might recognize the genie.  Doesn't ring any bells?"  He searched his pockets for his cigarettes, but couldn't find them.

Willow tried to remember any and all things she'd read about genies and dreams, but came up empty.  "Nope.  And the only thing that's been in almost all the dreams is you.  So you tell me what it means."

Spike leered at her, winking exaggeratedly.  "That you've got the hots for me?"

She rolled her eyes, ignoring the guilty way her heart leapt to life at his words.  "Oh please.  Why don't you quit lusting after me, and help me figure this thing out."

He strolled over to her.  "I'm lusting after you?"  He smirked, leaning down to whisper in her ear.  "These aren't my dreams.  Not my mind."

He inhaled deeply, making her shiver.  Her skin was humming at his nearness.  Remembering the last time they'd been here together, and the things he'd said, she really, really wished this wasn't just another dream.  "Spike?" she whispered.

He sat down on the arm of the chair.  "Yeah, love?"

Instead of saying what she wanted to say, which was a whole lot of stuff containing the words, 'take me, make love to me, let's have sex' and other such things, she said, "If you are just another dream version of the real Spike could you not kill me this time?  Please?"  And she didn't have to fake the pleading tone in her voice either.

"I promise I won't kill you," he assured her with a sigh.  "Now help me figure this thing out."

Sick of his nagging, she rolled her eyes and stood up.  "Fine.  A question, huh?"

Spike nodded, sliding off the arm of the chair and onto the seat she'd just vacated.  "That's what Sutter Girl said."  He frowned a bit.  "Since I'm a big player in your dreams, could it be that you're afraid of me?"  The way she was looking at him made him think that maybe he hadn't sounded as unaffected as he'd tried to.  He really didn't want her to be afraid of him.  Not anymore.  Sure, at one time, not too long ago, he'd wanted exactly that, but not now.  Things had changed.  He had changed.

But he didn't want her to know that yet, not while trapped in here, stuck in her dreams.  There'd be time enough after they got free.

Now it was her turn to reassure him.  "No, I'm not afraid of you.  At all."  She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, and smiled a bit.  "If you're the real Spike, that is."

He laughed, reaching for a cigarette again.  This time he found them in his duster pocket.  "You're paranoid, you know that?"  He lit one, inhaling deeply.

Willow shrugged, unconcerned.  "You would be too.  Okay, so, let's figure this out.  You've gotta have something to do with it, since you've been in nearly every dream so far."

"Doing what?  Besides seducing you," he chuckled.  He was mostly joking, but he was also hopeful.  Maybe her dreams were saying what she couldn't.  That she had feelings for him.  Again, the thought that she'd slept with William came to mind.  Willow wasn't the kind to sleep around, and though he'd assumed at first that she'd slept with William out of grief, and then regretted it later, he now knew better.

She sighed and dropped to the floor in front of him.  "Let's see.  You've slept with Tara, or William did.  Whatever.  And when Oz and Veruca made a cameo, or Buffy and Xander, you showed up just in time to kill me, or turn me.  Other times, you proclaimed your never ending love for me," she said with a cheeky grin.  "Such a fickle vampire," she lamented with mock sadness.

"Okay, so apparently it *is* that you've got the hots for me," he teased with a wink.

She slapped his leg.  "You know, arrogance doesn't-- well, yeah, actually it does suit you, but, um, stop it."

Suddenly, the door burst open, startling them.  Willow jumped to her feet, but by that time Spike was diving at the blue demon.  It was the one from the cemetery, definitely the genie responsible for all of this.  Spike landed on the demon, and they both went down.  And, then he was alone.

Willow screamed as Spike climbed to his feet.  The blue demon was across the room, advancing on her.  She was hastily backing up, but the wall behind her wouldn't allow her much more room to move.  Spike charged the genie, and yanked him away from Willow.

"You can't kill me," the genie told him, his sneer matching his French accent perfectly.  "And you can't have the girl.  Her soul is mine."

"When will you demons learn?  I don't share."  Spike punched the demon, who suddenly wasn't there anymore.  His fist smashed into the wall, bones breaking on impact.  "Bloody hell," he yelled, cradling his fist.

Willow darted around the pillar and the genie, joining Spike by his bed.  "Come on," she whispered, pulling at his shirt, trying to drag him out the door with her.

Spike held his ground, knowing the demon wouldn't let them go that easily.  "Get behind me," he told Willow, keeping his eye on the demon.  The demon who had, once again, disappeared.  He spun around at Willow's yelp, shoving her behind him again.  "Stay still, you blasted Judge wanna-be."

Willow held onto his arm, and peered around him.  "He does kind of look like a Smurf gone bad, doesn't he?" she giggled.  The giggle turned into a snort of laughter when the demon raised an imperious eyebrow.

"A Smurf?" it repeated, rolling its eyes.  "I hardly think so."  He strolled forward, reaching out for Willow.  "Come, we have business to attend to."

Willow jerked away, but didn't hide behind Spike.  She stood beside him, straightening her shoulders and glaring at the demon.  "No.  You want my soul, then ask your stupid question here and get it over with."

Spike, proud of her display of courage, shoved her behind him again.  "I don't think that's a good idea, pet."

The demon shrugged eloquently, and held his hands out.  "Very well.  This... place, will work, I suppose."  He looked around, sniffing in distaste.

Willow started around Spike, but he grabbed her hand with his un-broken one, holding her still.  "Spike, let go," she hissed.

"Uh, no," he said reasonably, "I'm *not* going to let you walk over to the evil demon who wants your soul."

Willow rolled her eyes and stepped back beside him.  "Fine, whatever, Mr. Over-protective Guy."  She faced the demon and tried to cross her arms, but Spike wasn't letting go of her hand.  She sighed heavily.  "This question," she asked, "do I know the answer already?  I mean, is it something I can actually answer?  Something that has an answer?"

"Yes," the demon said, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

"Great," she said with a smile.  "Then let's get this over with, because I want to wake up already.  No offense, but this place sucks."

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?" the demon asked in amusement.

Willow shrugged modestly.  "This is the stuff I'm good at.  Just call me Brainy Smurf."

"Again with the Smurfs," the demon chuckled.  "All right, here is your question."

"Wait.  What if she gets it wrong?" Spike asked.  "Can I help her answer it?"  Seeing Willow's glare, he added, "If she needs help."

The demon sighed.  "If she gets it wrong, she loses her soul.  And... yes.  I suppose I will allow you to help her," he said magnanimously.

"Just ask already," Willow said impatiently.  "I want to wake up.  Okay?"

Spike tightened his hand around hers in warning when the demon narrowed his eyes.  She squeezed right back.

"Your question," the demon said, then fell silent.

Spike waited patiently, then impatiently as the Willow and the demon stared at each other.  "Um, hello?  Her question?"

Willow squeezed his hand again and smiled at the genie.  "Spike?"

"Yeah?"  He looked from Willow to the genie, who was nodding in defeat.  "What's going on?  You gonna ask your blasted question, or not?"

She grinned in triumph, and hopped a few times.  "He already did.  I won.  I get to wake up.  Yay."

Spike, not about to stop to question their good fortune, shrugged and started out of the crypt.  He'd ask her later, after they woke up.  "Great.  Let's go then.  How do we--"

"Not yet," the demon said.  Seeing the two of them stiffen, he smiled and waved his hand.  "Oh, you're free to go, of course.  I always keep my word.  However, you're also free to stay for a while.  Have fun, enjoy yourselves," he said generously.  "Whatever you want is yours for the rest of this dream.  And don't worry, you won't remember a thing once you wake up."

"Um, no thanks," Willow said with a strained smile.  "How-- how do we get out of here?"

The demon chuckled.  "Answer the question, or do the one thing you most want to do.  Au revoire."  He walked toward the door, disappearing before he reached it.

Spike stared after him angrily.  Were they any better off than they'd been before?  "I thought you already answered the question.  And how did you answer it by the way?"  He let go of Willow's hand, turning away to examine his own hand.  It was black and blue already, as well as green, yellow and bloody.  And quite broken.

"In my mind, telepathically or something.  And I don't plan on answering it again."  She went to the door, trying to open it.  "Locked, or stuck.  Can you... ?"

Being left-handed, Spike had been swinging with his left hand when the demon disappeared and his fist smashed into the stone wall.  Now all he had was his right hand, and, even with his vampiric strength, he didn't think he'd be much use if the door was stuck, or worse, locked from the outside.

"Spike?  Hello.  Earth to--"

"Yeah, yeah.  I got it."  He shoved his injured hand into his duster pocket and went to the door.  As soon as he pulled on the handle he knew they were stuck unless they could find another way out.  He turned back to her, shrugging.  "Sorry."

Willow tucked her hair behind her ears, staring at his hand still ensconced in his pocket.  "Gonna actually try to open the door now?"

He shrugged, and rolled his eyes.  "I can't.  Why don't you just answer the bloody question and get us out of here?"

"Uh, because I don't want to?" she replied.  "Why don't you just open the bloody door?"  She glared at him, waiting expectantly.

"I can't, didn't I just say that?" Spike snapped, shoving past her.  She grabbed his arm, swinging him back around.

"Why not?" she demanded, her big green eyes watching him angrily.

He shoved his hand through his hair.  "That's not the way out anyhow.  Pretty obvious, unless you're you."

"Fine then."  She leaned against the door, crossing her arms over her chest.  "I suggest you get that chip out or go find Buffy or something, because that's the only way we're going to get out of here."

Spike frowned at her.  Is that what she thought he wanted most?  The chip out, or Buffy?  Had she not heard a word her told her that night in his crypt?  Yes, he still wanted Buffy, but that's not what he wanted most.  Maybe at one time.  Hell, if he was honest with himself, it was only recently that he'd been able to not want Buffy without feeling guilty.

And started wanting Willow?  Yes.  Definitely.  But was it due to the recent deaths of all of their friends?  Or was it because of who Willow was?  Did he want the girl?  Or was he holding on to the last vestige of his life in Sunnydale?  He couldn't answer those questions yet, but he did know that he wanted Willow.

Wait.  Where was this doubt coming from?  He already knew he wanted Willow, and why.  He loved her.

"Why don't you go find your witch, or run to William?" he retorted, pulling out his pack of cigarettes.  He shook one out and lit it, all with one hand.  Quite talented if he did say so himself.  And he did.

But Willow was watching him curiously.  "What's wrong with your hand?" she asked suspiciously.

Spike shrugged.  "Nothing."  He didn't want her pity.  He was a vampire, he was supposed to be strong, the one in charge, in control.  And yet, more than ever lately, he'd shown just how weak he was.  Couldn't hurt humans.  Couldn't hit a demon.  Couldn't open a door.

He didn't want her to see him as a charity case.  He wanted to be the one in charge, the one to protect her.  But she was already moving forward, pulling his hand out of his pocket, and examining it.  He let her, hardly wincing at her light touch.  Actually enjoying the feel of her warm skin against his cold hand.  Her alive hands against his dead one.

Willow, in her usual way, put things into perspective with her observant comments.  "Ew.  And yuck."  Her mouth was screwed up in disgust, her eyes chastising.

Spike shook his head at the concern etched on her face.  It was touching, and heart-warming.  Really.  If he were a human, he'd be completely... uh, touched, or something.  Being a vampire, he had to clench his jaw to keep from snapping at her.  Kind of like his old self.  Like a true vampire again.  Like he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into that lovely white throat of hers, tear through the skin there, and get at the blood beneath the surface, the blood flowing in her veins.

He had to shake himself out of his thoughts, and pull away from her and her touch.  Her smell.  Otherwise he was sure he'd be following up those visuals with reality.  Willow hadn't noticed his change in attitude, but she must have noticed his change in appearance.  She was staring at him, unconcerned with his demonic face, and that angered him.  Where the bloody hell was all that fantastic fear he was used to getting from her?  He inhaled deeply, his yellow eyes fixed on her.

"Witch?" he growled.  And the stupid girl simply crossed her arms over her chest, unmindful of the fact that he wanted to grab her and drain her dry while inflicting as much pain as possible on her.

"Vampire?"  One eyebrow quirked up at his odd behavior, but no concern.

Spike closed his eyes, and tried to regain control of himself, but damn if he didn't see her still.  Smell her.  Feel her.  Whatever the hell was going on, he knew it wasn't good.  "Willow," he began, losing his patience.  "Would you just answer the blasted question so we can get out of here?"

"Would you just bite me?" she retorted, then realized who--or rather what--she was talking to.  "Uh, I mean that in a, you know, non-biting capacity.  Obviously."

Amused at her backpedaling, Spike nodded.  "Oh, yeah, obviously."  He grinned and closed the distance between them.  "But I think I'll take you up on the offer anyway."  Grabbing her by her upper arm with his good hand, he shoved her into the wall.

"Spike, um, ha ha," she said nervously, pushing at his chest.  "You're having a funny moment, right?  'Cause... please?"  Pushing him away was having no effect, so she tried to squirm out of his grip.

Spike pressed himself against her, fully against her, letting her feel every inch of him as he lowered his head to her neck.  He was at war with himself.  He equally wanted to taste her, and kiss her.  But he also found himself not wanting to do her any harm, and wondered what was happening to him.  But then the doubt cleared.

"Sorry, love, I can't seem to stop myself," he told her, his lips curving into a grin as he pressed them against her carotid artery.
Her body actually relaxed at his words.  "Oh.  Human blood is what you want most?  Um, okay, but... could you not make it hurt?  Been there, done that.  And, I happen to know for a fact that it doesn't have to hurt.  So could you not?  Please?"  She held the collar of her shirt--his shirt--away from her neck, and waited.

"Sure, love, whatever you say," he agreed, then sank his teeth into her neck, making sure to do it as slowly and painfully as possible.

She screamed, trying to push him away, but he wasn't about to let a little redheaded witch get away from him.  Not when he was getting his first real taste of warm human blood in two years.  And damn, did it taste like heaven.  He drank her screams in as much as he did her blood.

"Spike, let me go," she yelled, kicking and hitting at him.  "What's wrong with you?"

Spike didn't stop to answer, he just continued to drink from her.  Other parts of him were feeling somewhat neglected, but he didn't want to stop drinking her blood long enough to satisfy them.  That thought sobered him, forced him to pull his fangs out of her neck, and distance himself from her.  As soon as he let her go, she fell to her knees on the stone floor, but her head didn't drop.  She lifted her shoulders, tilting her head back, and glared at him.  He stalked across the crypt, turning his back on her as he tried to get control of himself.

"Why didn't you just answer the question?" he asked in despair.

"Because I didn't want to," Willow said through clenched teeth.  "It's something personal.  To me!  And it's none of your business."

Spike turned around, his human face back on again.  He couldn't believe what he'd just done to her.  Couldn't believe he'd lost control like that.  "Bloody hell, Willow, I'm sorry," he said miserably.  "I don't know what happened--"

"Is that what you wanted most?" she interrupted.  When he remained silent, she stood up and walked over to him.  "Is it?" she repeated, holding her hand to her neck to stop the blood from flowing out.

"I don't know," he confessed.  "I was thinking about what my life has become, and then suddenly I couldn't stop myself from biting you.  I lost control."  He sincerely hoped the genie was telling the truth, that they wouldn't remember what happened when they woke up, because he couldn't lose Willow.

She turned back to the door, which was now open.  "Unless you have more important biting to do, I'm leaving."  She walked, unhurriedly, to the door and paused without turning around.  "I really hope I don't remember this," she said.

Spike closed his eyes, cursing himself for all kinds of a fool.  He started after her, saying a silent prayer that she, at least, wouldn't remember anything.

~Part: 18~

(April 2000)

Spike opened the door of his crypt with a snarl, still yanking on his t-shirt.  The loud insistent pounding that had started a minute before came to a halt.  Willow stood there nervously, half turned away, half facing him.  She looked about ready to bolt.

"What do you want, Willow?"  Though his tone was belligerent, he was anything but.  He was actually happy to see her.  It'd been almost two weeks since he'd last seen her.  At least a week since he'd hopped through time for a little visit with the future Willow; a week since discovering the implant was once again working.  Since being back, he'd been mostly on his own, and he'd wanted it that way.  Buffy had stayed away for once, not barging in at all hours to demand he do something or other, which was probably a good thing, because, feeling as he did, he might've braved the pain and the possible end of the world just to see her face smashed in and bloody.

Unfortunately Willow had stayed away as well.  He hadn't seen her, talked to her, or touched her for over a week.  His last conversation with the Willow from the future had gone terribly wrong and he was itching for a chance to fix things.  He wouldn't apologize for killing.  Never would those words leave his lips, but he could pretend.  Nod and smile.  Make nice with her just to be near her and touch her.

He was lost, and he knew it.

This Willow here, the one from his own time, was another matter.  She had no idea of what had gone on in the future, and he had no intention of telling her, not while he still had a chance with her.

And now she was here, and other problems were looming.  For days, he'd known what was coming, but was unable to do anything about it.  And judging by the look on her face, she now knew as well.

"Spike.  Hi.  Um, can I come in?"  Without waiting for an answer, she walked past him.

Spike closed the door against the bright sunshine, and turned around to face her, tucking his shirt in.  She was standing in the middle of the room, frowning.  His perusal of her faded jeans, and baggy shirt was interrupted by her next words.

"Oh, hey, guess what?  Oz is back.  Isn't that neat?"

She sounded a little... stressed.  Kind of a lot stressed actually.  Why?  Oz was leaving, there should be no decisions weighing heavily on her mind.

He hid his lack of surprise behind a laugh.  "Better call the pound."  He leaned closer in mock concern.  "You have had your shots, haven't you?"

She ignored his taunting, looking around uncomfortably, like she still wasn't sure why she was there.  Well, make that two of them.

"And?" he encouraged, seeing she wasn't about to offer anything up anytime soon.  "As hard as it is to believe, I actually wasn't pining for news about your dog.  So is there something else you wanted?"  Sounded very cold and uncaring, he was sure of it.

"I had a question.  This Oz thing got me thinking about, you know, stuff."  He saw her roll her eyes at herself and had to agree with the sentiment.  "As far as I know you don't care about me."

After a blank stare at her and realizing she was going to just stop right there, without continuing, Spike sat down in his chair with a sigh.  Didn't care?  He must be a better actor than he'd thought.  Well... good.

He was surprised it'd taken her this long to come to him.  She was a curious person, always had her nose stuck in a book, typing away on her computer, looking things up, finding things out.  It was how she was.  That she'd waited two weeks before seeking him out to get some answers was amazing to him.  He'd expected her much sooner.

He patted his thigh and smirked at her.  "Have a seat, we'll talk about this... uh, stuff you're curious about."

Willow tilted her head to the side and gave him a disbelieving look.  "Okay, now that I'm here, and have had a small amount of time to think about it, this was a really stupid idea."

"Sit down," he said with a sigh.  "What is it you're so curious about?"  He hoped he didn't sound too eager, too desperate for company.  Her company in particular.

She looked unsure for a minute, biting her lip and glancing around before finally giving in with a sigh.  "All right.  But only because I'm really, really curious."  Clasping her hands together, she stayed put, but relaxed a little.  "Okay, so... oh, hey, did I mention Oz was back?" she asked in an attempt at stalling.

He rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into the air above his head.  "Yeah, you mentioned it."  Forcing himself to keep the sarcasm to a minimum, he cleared his throat and asked, "What's the matter, Stutter Girl not willing to share?"

Her eyes went wide.  "How did you know-- oh!  I knew you were following Tara," she said accusingly.

Spike took a drag off his cigarette, his eyes never leaving hers.  "I thought we already talked about that, Witch."

She took a deep breath and exhaled.  "Right."  She nodded, sticking her hands in her pockets, then took them out and crossed her arms over her chest.  "You're right.  But, that's not why I'm here.  I just-- well, I wanted to know... did you sleep with her?"  She avoided looking at him, fixing her eyes somewhere in the vicinity of his boots.

He'd gotten off easy two weeks ago.  But now he would have to answer her questions.  Honestly?  He still wasn't sure if he'd be honest or not.  Wasn't sure how candid he wanted to be.  So, he played dumb, stalling for time.  "Sleep with your blonde witch?  Bloody hell, no.  Anything else you'd like to accuse me of while you're at it?"  He jumped to his feet for good measure.

She burst out laughing, her amused gaze following him as he hopped up onto his bed.  "Not Tara.  No, I meant-- um, me.  Well, not-- not me, as in me.  But me from the future?"  Obviously expecting him to either laugh at her or call her crazy, she winced and bit her thumb nail.  But she didn't look away.

Spike did.  "You from the future?" he repeated, shaking his head in confusion.  "What are you talking about?  Is there another you walking around?  'Cause I gotta tell you, one is enough for me."

"Spike,"  She joined him by the bed, speaking slowly, and clearly.  "Did you have sex with a future version of me?"

He was caught.  She wasn't going to be put off.  He was dust for sure now.  Willow would run and tell the bimbo slayer, and the slayer would pay him a midnight visit, ending his pathetic excuse for a life.

"What if I did?" he asked, running his eyes over her.  "You jealous?"  Her eyes flicked away from his, and her breathing quickened.  Oh, well, look at that, he thought.  This Willow was definitely attracted to him.  It hadn't just been the alcohol the other night.  He could've jumped for joy.  Instead, he taunted her some more.  "Care to have a go, pet?"

Her frown was huge, her eyes shocked.  "Why?" she whispered.  "Why would you sleep with her?  You don't even like me."

He shrugged, acting all unconcerned, when what he really wanted to do was tell her--no, show her--just how much he really did like her.  "Never said I slept with her, you just assumed I did."  He slid his hand behind her head and pulled her closer.  "Tell me, Willow.  What bothers you more?  The fact that I may have slept with someone I don't like?  Or the fact that you may have slept with a demon?"

She swallowed nervously and bit her lip, trying to pull away without being obvious.  Spike didn't let go.  He didn't want to let go.  He wanted to kiss those sexy lips of hers, and be the one she was biting.  Wanted to pull her that much closer, and trace her lips with his tongue, lightly press his mouth to hers, and slide his tongue into her mouth.  So he did.

And she tasted so good.  Her lips, soft against his, were warm, and inviting.  Instead of pulling away, as he'd expected, she moved closer, and opened her mouth for him.  She moved between his legs, putting her hands on his stomach.  Not to push him away, but to touch him.  That, in itself, effected him more than anything else she could've done.

But he didn't take it any further.

He released her, dropping his hand from her neck... a bit slowly, he'd admit.  And he sort of slid it down her back rather than dropping it, but eventually he did completely release her.  Only, she didn't step back, or move away, or stop kissing him.  Her small hands, still resting against his stomach, twisted in his shirt.  Her breath fanned across his cheek as she kissed the side of his mouth.

And then she pulled back.  She was breathing hard, her eyes darkened with desire.  A small frown furrowed her brow.

"Sorry--" she whispered, then cleared her throat and tried again.  "Sorry.  Um, I-- I was just-- I had to figure something out."

That wasn't what he'd expected her to say.  "Figure something out?"  What was he?  Her blasted guinea pig?  Getting his anger under control, he had to admit that he'd been using her as much as she had apparently been using him, so he had no right to be angry.  "And did you?"

She pried her eyes from the floor and nodded slowly.  "I think I did, yeah."  She smiled brilliantly.  "Thank you."

He took hold of her wrist, rubbing his thumb along the soft flesh on the inside of her arm.  "Are you going to tell me what it was, or leave me in the dark?"

"Oh," she smiled again, a beautiful smile.  Radiant even.  "I wanted to know if I felt like I was betraying Oz if I kissed you.  Or, um, Tara," she added, almost as an afterthought.

He hid his surprise behind a self satisfied grin.  "Leaving the witch then?"  Bloody hell, life was turning out to be grand after all, wasn't it?  Oz was leaving town, Tara was out of the picture, and Willow was free to be seduced by him.  He felt incredible.
"Yes.  I have to.  I still love Oz, and," she glanced down at her watch, missing his furious look.  "I have to go catch him before he leaves.  Thank you, Spike."  She grinned at him, and ran out the door.

Spike watched her go in disbelief.  He jumped up and ran to the door, throwing it open.  Cursing the sun--and himself for being a vampire--he slammed it shut again.  "Son of a bitch!"

Because of him and his stupid, blasted idiocy, he'd forced her into Oz's arms.  It had to have been the doubts he'd planted in her mind about Tara that did it.  Future Willow was probably going to be pissed at him now.  Pissed for messing with her life, and breaking her and Tara up.  Pissed for sticking his nose in where it didn't belong.

"Bloody hell!"  He shoved at the lid of the sarcophagus and it went flying against the wall, falling to the floor.  Amazingly enough, it didn't break.  And then the door opened, and hope surged through him.  If he could get to Willow before she got to Oz, there might be a chance to fix things.  To stop that bastard from getting her.

"Spike."

Not Willow.  Spike spun around, faced with an ugly demon stitched together with different parts.  Had to be the infamous Adam.  His eyes flickered briefly from the demon in front of him to the papers Willow had left for him.  There hadn't been anything in there about Adam coming here.  Crap, he had enough to deal with at the moment without adding in an all-powerful demon.

Adam was watching him without expression.  "Spike, I want you to come with me."

Spike was not in the mood for this right now.  He wanted to go to Willow.  But first he had to get rid of the big ugly.  "Do you?"  He shrugged, looking agreeable.  "Well, let's go then."  He turned to leave, then spun back around, and punched Adam in the stomach.  Pain shot through his hand.  Adam stared at him, showing no signs of having even felt Spike's fist.  Spike shook his hand.  "Ow."

"Come," Adam said, taking a step closer to Spike.

Spike backed away from him.  No way was he taking this guy on.  Not alone anyhow.  He knew from the papers Willow had left behind that Adam was nearly impossible to beat.  They'd had to band together or some crap to beat him.  And judging from the pain still throbbing through his hand, Willow hadn't been exaggerating.

"You're going to help me with my problem," Adam told him, still watching him with that same creepy expression.

"Why is that exactly?" Spike asked belligerently.  Adam may be a super demon, but he couldn't just order Spike around like a child.

"I'm going to help you with yours," Adam answered.

Spike's head snapped up, his eyes looking for the truth in Adam's impenetrable gaze.  Willow hadn't mentioned anything about... bloody hell.  She hadn't wanted him to know.  Well of course she didn't, hadn't he just argued with her a week ago over this very thing.

Furious with Willow, Spike decided he'd do what Adam wanted.  He'd get the chip out, and then he'd go find Willow.  Pay her a little visit.

(April 2000)

Willow watched Buffy pace back and forth across Giles' floor.  She was tempted to do the same thing, but she wasn't really a pacing type of person.  She was more the sit-back-and-wait-quietly-in-a-chair type.  Even if she did want to jump up and pace.  She wouldn't.  Oz would be fine.  They always ended up fine, this was just one more thing they had to go through to end up fine.

Guilt was also something she wouldn't give in to.  Just because she had gone to Tara this morning didn't mean it was her fault Oz had freaked out and turned wolfy.  Wasn't her fault that she hadn't been there for him, to help him.  To calm him down.  Nope.  Not her fault at all.  Her being at Spike's crypt, kissing him of all things, had nothing to do with Oz's current cell-like surroundings.

"Something's wrong," Buffy told them, interrupting Willow's thoughts.  "Riley usually returns my phone calls by now."

"We can't wait much longer," Xander said, his concern warming Willow's heart.

Her cold heart.  Here they were, concerned with her ex-boyfriend, when she'd been in a vampire's lair betraying said ex-boyfriend.  Sure, she'd told Spike she'd kissed him back to figure out who she wanted, but the truth was... she'd already made her decision.  She'd kissed him simply because she'd enjoyed it.  She'd already known who she wanted.  Tara.

And then Spike reminded her again that Tara might not have been completely truthful with her.  Then he kissed her.  And wow, had that been an experience.  Again.  The first time, she'd been drunk.  This time, she was sober, and loving it.  Her thoughts hadn't been of Oz, or Tara, only Spike, and then he released her, but she'd continued to kiss him.  Covering her embarrassment had been the only thing on her mind.

Willow tuned the conversation back in and was glad she did.

"Okay," Buffy was saying.  "Xander, you and I are gonna go in.  We've done it before."

No way were they leaving her here.  "I'm going with you."

Buffy shook her head.  "No.  Look, it's too dangerous, Will.  Besides, I need you to help Giles hack into the city's electrical grid.  We've gotta try to power down the Initiative."

"Giles can do it without me," Willow insisted.  "I can give him all the instructions, I can show him exactly what to do."

"Of course," Giles agreed.

"I-- I can't just sit here," Willow told them, desperate to make them understand.

Buffy and Xander shared a look, then finally gave in.  "Okay," Buffy agreed.  "Okay, you can back us up."  She sighed.  "Now, the only way I know into the Initiative is through the elevator in the Lowell House.  But my clearance is long gone."

"So we grab a guy, make him take us," Xander said simply.

"Or you could just use the back way," Spike said.  They all turned toward the door to see Spike standing there.  "Hell of a lot less bother."

Willow's eyes widened, wondering what he was doing there.  Happiness shot through her, followed closely by fear.  Was he going to tell the others what she'd done?  That she'd kissed him while Oz was being captured by the Initiative.  That she'd thoroughly enjoyed kissing him.  Acted like a hussy?

Get a grip, she told herself.  Oz was in danger, and all she could do was think about herself.  And how Spike hadn't once looked her way.

"How did you get in?" Giles asked.

Willow watched Spike surreptitiously.  He looked... cockier than usual.  More arrogant.  What was going on?

"Door was unlocked," Spike chastised.  "You might wanna watch that, Rupert.  Someone dangerous could get in."

"Or someone formerly dangerous and currently annoying," Buffy said snidely.

Willow frowned at her, but kept silent.  Sometimes they really did treat Spike atrociously.  No wonder he hated them so much.  And she wasn't even going to add that to her conscience.  The fact that he hated her and she still wanted him wasn't an issue right now.  Oz was.  Only Oz.

Spike was smiling at Buffy in amusement, looking extremely pleased with himself.  "Now, now.  None of that.  Or I won't help you get Red's mongrel back."

His eyes flickered briefly toward Willow, and she was surprised at how cold his gaze was.  He was angry.  At her.  But, why?  All she was guilty of was letting him kiss her.  And then running off telling him she was going to go stop the man she loved from leaving.  But, so what?  He didn't care about her.  A couple of small kisses didn't mean anything to a mean, evil century-old vampire who was currently still in love with Drusilla and sometimes shacked up with Harmony.  Right?  And what about the future her?  Had she slept with Spike?  Despite her best efforts, she hadn't gotten a concrete answer out of him on this point.

But again, this wasn't the time.

Especially since... how did Spike know about Oz?  When she'd left him, during the day, he'd been as oblivious about Oz as she was.  Now he knew.  And she wasn't the only suspicious one.  Everyone was looking at him rather distrustfully.

"Bad news travels fast with us demons.  We all like a good laugh," he explained with a chuckle.

Willow frowned at him.  How could he be so callous?  Well, duh, she answered herself, he was a demon, and demons didn't care about anything except themselves.  And they certainly didn't care about humans.  Even if they did kiss them.  But if that was true, which it was, then what was he doing here?  Why was he helping?

"Short of cash, Spike?" Giles sneered.

Willow could've slapped her forehead in realization.  Of course, that had to be it.  He wanted money.

"I happen to be seeking monetary gratification, yeah.  But I also get a kick out of jackin' up those army ginks myself.  I know how to find the big guy who can take you to Oz."

And again his eyes found hers.  There was fury there now.  What the heck did he have to be furious about?  He didn't care a thing about her.  Like he said, he did things for three reasons; to torture Buffy, for fun, or because he wanted to.

That first kiss hadn't been to torture Buffy, he'd told her that much.  Which meant it was either for fun, or because he wanted to.  Knowing Spike, it was the former.  The second kiss was anyone's guess, but she was tempted to think it was for fun as well.

"Uh-huh," Buffy was saying skeptically.  "So what's the going rate on a wild goose chase, Spike?"

Spike looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but he managed to refrain.  "Fine, if you're not interested... but I was stuck in that hole, remember?  And I've heard things from other guys who've gotten out.  I can get you in.  No alarms, no cameras... no waiting."

Everyone looked at Buffy since it was her decision, but, Willow was ready to go with Spike whether Buffy agreed or not.  Oz needed their help, and if Spike was the only way in, she would go with him.  And if it was a trap?  If someone was waiting there to kill them?  Even Spike himself?  She would still go.

~~~*~~~

Later that night, the four of them walked through the woods toward wherever Spike was leading them.  Willow hadn't gotten any alone time with Spike to talk to him, but then again, she wasn't sure she wanted to.  She might not like what he had to say.

Willow looked beside her at Buffy, who was wearing a white lab coat identical to hers, while Spike and Xander were wearing green army fatigues.  They all looked very professional.  Not at all like a bunch of teenagers about to break into a government run facility.  Especially Spike.  He actually looked rather sharp; different than she was used to seeing, but not in a bad way.

He was kind of handsome.  In a demonic way, she hastened to add.  Thinking about Spike in any way other than as an evil demon was dangerous.

"I've mentioned how much I'm gonna kill you if this is a scam, right?" Buffy asked Spike, breaking Willow out of her thoughts.

"Look, would I wear this if I wasn't on the up and up?" Spike asked, gesturing to his outfit.

Huh.  From her thoughts, to his lips.  Though she really did think he looked good, she couldn't let him know that.  Or Buffy and Xander.  So, she said the first thing that came to mind.  "You do sort of look like an evil olive."

He didn't even look at her.  And she felt like an insignificant piece of nothing.  Though, why she felt like that, she didn't know.  Since when did she care what Spike thought?  Care that he paid her the slightest bit of attention.  Up until recently, she'd been extremely grateful every time he did overlook her, because that meant he might not kill her that time.  Nothing had changed.  She still shouldn't want his attention.  Especially now.

Focusing on the task at hand, Willow ignored Spike as well.  Though, with him ignoring her, it was hard for him to notice that she was ignoring him, but she didn't care about that.  Not one whit.

"Guys," Xander said, oblivious to Willow's thoughts.  "Check it out."

Willow followed Xander's gaze, seeing a hidden doorway in the bushes ahead of them.

Spike walked toward it, and pulled open the doors.  "For a nasty town like Sunnydale, nobody seems to mind their locks," he marveled.

Willow looked at Xander and Buffy.  They looked as edgy as she felt.  Something in Spike's manner was making her nervous.  This didn't feel right.

"You first," Buffy told Spike, motioning him onward.

Spike rolled his eyes and went inside.  The three teenagers followed him.

~~~*~~~

Willow tried to catch spike's eye as they went through the halls, but he was still ignoring her.  And then the lights went out, and blue emergency lights came on.  Willow reached out, grabbing Xander.  Her eyes were still adjusting to the new lighting when Xander yanked his arm away from her.

Her eyes flickered to his, only it wasn't Xander.  It was Spike, and he was watching her coldly.  Xander and Buffy were farther ahead, stopped in front of a door.

Straightening her back, she walked past him.  If he wanted to be a jerk, then fine.  She could be just as cold as him.

Buffy kicked in the door and she and Xander burst into the Colonel's bedroom.  The Colonel was in bed, and none too happy to see them.  Buffy and Xander went straight to him, pointing their weapons at him.  The Colonel reached out for something on the bedside table.

"Hey," Buffy yelled quietly.  She pointed her crossbow in his face, until he pulled his arm back.  "You know who I am?" she asked.

The Colonel looked from Buffy to Xander, then past them to Spike and Willow in the doorway.  "Yeah."

"Then you know I'm pretty good with this thing.  Take us to him," Buffy told him.

"Finn stays in the brig.  Helping an HST escape is a court martial offense."

Willow felt Spike stiffen beside her, and looked at him.  This had to be kind of hard on him, she realized.  Being back in here, after what these people had done to him, couldn't be easy... even for a soulless demon.

Spike caught her look and raised an amused eyebrow at her.  "Skip the pity, Red, it'll only get you killed."

None of the others heard him, and in fact weren't even paying attention to them.  "What's wrong with you?" she whispered.

He leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms over his chest.  "Not a thing."  He nodded toward the trio across the room, and went back to ignoring her.

"You're only gonna make matters worse," the Colonel said.

"Riley tried to help Oz escape?" Buffy asked, surprised.

The Colonel looked from one to the other.  "That's who you came for?  The wolf?"

"Guess we're two for one," Xander said.

"Get dressed," Buffy told the Colonel.

~Part: 19~

(November 2001)

Willow's eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring at Tara, who was staring at her with a worried look.  Looking beyond her ex-girlfriend, she saw the Magic Box... which she hadn't been in since the night before everyone was killed.  And, wow, look at all the dust and-- books on the floor?

"Willow.  Are you all right?"  Tara reached out tenderly to touch Willow's face, but then stopped with a sideways glance at Spike.  "You had me-- us worried."  Her voice lowered a little, and she moved closer to whisper, "Spike was really worried about you."  A tremulous smile followed, and then she straightened up and moved back, giving Willow space.

Willow tossed a look at Spike too, and found him sleeping, or knocked out.  "I'm fine," she told Tara.  No thanks to Spike, she thought silently.  What the heck had that big suckfest been about in there?  Why had he bitten her so hard?  So carelessly.  So-- shaking her head at herself, she got to her feet.  "Why's he still zonked?"

Tara shrugged.  "Side effect of the spell, probably.  Um, you know what?  I don't really want to be here when he wakes up... I think I have issues, so, I'm just gonna go now."  She paused and the smile was gone, replaced by her serious face.  "I'm really glad you're safe, Willow."

Willow smiled broadly and hugged Tara tight, kissing her.  There was no passion in the kiss, it was just a goodbye kiss.  "Bye, Tara," Willow whispered, dropping her arms to her sides.  "Thank you for... well, everything."

Tara shook her head.  "I'll always be there, Willow.  Whenever you need me.  We're still friends, right?"

"Still friends," Willow assured her.  "Be careful."  A smile lifted her lips.  "I hear there're bad things out there."

Tara smiled back, turning away with a wave.  She gathered up some books, and then she was gone.

Left alone, except for the sleeping vampire, Willow went around the table picking up all the rest of the books that'd been thrown to the floor.  Looked like a really intense research session had just occurred.  A sad smile lifted her lips.  She could almost imagine she heard Buffy in the training room, beating the stuffing out of Xander in the puffy suit.  Could almost hear Xander's grunts of pain, and his distant voice as he tried to get out of being her human punching bag.

Once all the books were closed and on the table, she decided she'd shelve them too.  As she climbed the ladder, she could almost hear Anya threatening the customers to have a nice day.  A half sob, half laugh escaped her.  Giles would chastise Anya in lieu of Xander being near to do it, while telling Dawn to put something down, or to be careful because the clawed frog's foot could turn them all into inanimate objects if she aimed it at them.

Dawn never knew whether he was serious or not, but the others did, and they'd share a grin as Dawn hastily dropped the object.  More sobs came and she had to sit down until they passed.  They were all dead, except Spike and Tara.  She and Spike could've died tonight.  What if she'd died without ever telling Spike how she felt about him?  What if he'd died never knowing she was in love with him?

She hadn't gotten to tell Xander and Buffy one last time, that she loved them.  Never told Buffy that she was her hero.  Or told Xander that he was her best friend in the world, better than any brother she could've had, and he'd understand that it wasn't icky that she used to be in love with him, but now thought of him as a brother.  She'd never told Giles how much he meant to her.  How, if her own father had ever met Giles, he'd be jealous 'cause she loved Giles just as much as him.  And Anya, she'd never gotten to tell Anya thank you for making Xander so happy, and for loving him so much.  Never told Dawn that, even though she was only a newly born mystical energy key, she loved her like a little sister she'd known her whole life, and she didn't think it had anything to do with the false memories the monks planted.

Being here, in this shop of ghosts and this town of demons made Willow realize that time was precious.  Oh, she'd always known it, had it brought home to her way too many times to count, but she often forgot that lesson.  It was a hazard of living on the Hellmouth.

After wiping her eyes, she shelved the books with a lighter heart.  As soon as Spike woke up, she'd tell him how she felt and hope like heck that he felt the same.

Twenty minutes, and lots of cleaning later, Spike finally woke up with a groan.  Willow, sitting in a chair at the table, reading a book on shapeshifters that she'd found, turned to him with a smile.  "Rip van Winkle's awake."

Spike eyed her warily, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there.  Willow knew how he felt, she was kinda feeling that way too, but she knew that it was now or never.  Closing the book quietly, she stood up.

"Willow--" he began, but she cut him off.

"Wait.  Please.  Before we get all angst-y and dramatic, I have something I want to say, and if I don't say it now, I won't say it at all, and I really want to say it."  She paused, realizing that wasn't exactly the truth.  "Well, I actually don't want to say it at all, but I *have* to say it."  She nodded in affirmation of her words.  "Gotta say it.  Have to."

Spike looked away, toward the back room.  Wishing he was there instead of here?  Well tough patootie.  She had some love declaring to do.

Kneeling down in front of him, she took a deep, steadying breath, and folded her hands in front of her.  Realizing she looked like she was about to start praying, she unclasped her hands and set them on her thighs.  Ignoring the images her position brought to mind, she plunged right in.  "Spike, I--"

"Willow," he interrupted, swallowing, and glancing past her, "I think I need to--"

She held up a hand, forestalling him.  "I really need to get this out now."

"Me too," he mumbled, leaning his head back against the wall with a sigh.

Well, okay, he had something important to say too, so she wasted no more time.  She looked him straight in the eye and just said it.  "Spike, I love you..."

The words were hardly out before he was standing up, pushing her out of the way, and rushing out of the room.  Willow stared after him in confusion.  That was the last reaction she'd ever expected from him.  Hurt was starting to move through her, but then she heard the bathroom door slam shut and the distant sounds of Spike retching.  Oh, strike that last thought.  *This* was the last reaction she'd ever expected from him.

Her eyes widened in horror.  Vampires didn't get sick.  They didn't throw up, they weren't able to physically get ill... but she'd made Spike throw up by her declaration of love?

More tears filled her eyes, and she decided to slink away in shame.  Leave before she had to face him again.  Maybe even leave town, forever, just so she didn't ever have to face him again.

But she was still rooted to the spot when Spike entered the room again, leaning against the doorjamb with a miserable expression on his face.  "What the bloody hell was that?"  His eyes were on her, but kept sliding away, then finally settled somewhere on the ceiling before sliding shut.  "Uh, c-- could you say that again?"

Could she?  Yes.  Would she?  No.  It was possible he was just trying to ridicule her more, right?  After all, she'd just made him throw up for the first time in over a century.  But, maybe it hadn't been her, or her love declaration, maybe it was something else.  Maybe--

"Willow?"  His voice, still sounding rather tortured, interrupted her thoughts.

She dragged her eyes off the floor long enough to look at him.  He didn't look any better than he had before.  Kind of worse, in fact, but he did sound sincere.  Could she really think he was just making her repeat it to ridicule her?  No, he wasn't like that anymore.  Ignoring the last part of that nightmare dreamscape they'd just gotten out of, she walked over to him, once again looked him straight in the face and said, "I'm in lo--"

And then he was gone, running to the bathroom once again.  Willow nodded to herself, wiping at the tears that were now falling.  Gathering the three books she'd decided might help them against the shapeshifter, she left the Magic Box.

~~~*~~~

After the dry heaving was done, Spike dropped to the floor, resting his forehead against the cool tile wall.  "I love you too," he whispered miserably, then banged the back of his head on the wall behind him in anger.  "Ow."

A few minutes of silent griping and bitching later, he got unsteadily to his feet and gripped the edges of the sink with both hands, swallowing back the nausea threatening to once again overwhelm him.  Whatever was happening to him, it was making him feel more miserable than he'd felt in over a century, save for that organ breaking his spine.

Yanking open the mirrored medicine cabinet, he grabbed a tube of toothpaste that proclaimed its 'minty freshness', and turned the water on.  After twice brushing his teeth with his finger, he swilled some disgusting mouthwash, spit it out, rinsed his mouth, then left the bathroom behind.

He smelled her before he saw her, and his head shot up in surprise.  She hadn't left, or she'd come back.  Either way, he had to hold himself still, letting her make the first move.  It was a pride thing.

She was standing between the table and the counter, facing him in the doorway, her arms wrapped around a couple of big books like they were life preservers.  Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and her lower lip was trembling just a little.
Spike didn't think he'd ever seen anything more pathetic, or more beautiful.  Screw his pride.  She looked miserable, and he didn't want to be the cause of that misery.

As he pushed away from the wall and started toward her, she shook her head and took a single step back, so he stopped.
"I love you," she told him, her voice shaky, but strong.

It came out sounding more like a challenge than a declaration of love, and he had to bite back a smile.  His heart was trying to do that soaring thing again too.  So much joy went through him at her words that he had to remind himself he was a vampire that hated these feelings.  Ah, heck, who was he kidding?  At the moment, he was the happiest vampire in the world.

She smiled very briefly.  "Okay, so, yay, I didn't make you sick this time."  Taking a deep breath, she blinked back tears and continued on as if she were stating battle plans.  "If you don't love me back, well, that's, you know, not of the good, but I can live with it.  I've been dumped before, though this isn't exactly the same thing."  Her brow furrowed, and she shifted the books in her arms.  "I loved Xander for forever, and I lived.  I'll survive again.  I mean, yeah, it was hard, but I did it, and now... here I am."  She frowned, looking around the dusty shop.  "Here I am," she repeated more to herself than to him.  "Once again in love, and probably about to get my heart broken.  Again."  She turned a brave, self-mocking smile his way.  "But hey, who'd want to live without all that pain and despair?  Life would be boring."

He nodded, keeping his expression serious.  It probably wouldn't help matters if he laughed at her.  "Can I move now?"  She nodded regally.  He closed the remaining distance between them, but once he reached her, he simply looked down at her, studying her face to make sure he wanted to do this.

And damn his mind for trying to stop him.  It was reminding him of Buffy's dismissal of him, of the pain he'd felt when she had Willow uninvite him from her house.  It tried reminding him of how horrible he felt when Dru left him for one demon or another, and how much pain he'd been in when she wouldn't shut up about Angelus.  It whispered about betrayal, and how he'd never wanted to put himself in this position again.

None of that mattered.  Only Willow.  She was the only thing that mattered, and he had the key to making her hurt less.  He knew how to smooth that frown from her brow.  His thoughts cleared suddenly, and he had only one truly coherent thought.

Make Willow happy.

"I told you before; you're the 'more' I've been searching for my whole life.  And I love you a whole hell of a lot more than I should."

The books in her arms slipped through her suddenly lax grip and fell to the floor at her feet, in much the same way as he wanted to do.  Her breath caught as she stepped over the pile of pages, and she allowed herself to be picked up and held by him.  He swung her free of her book-prison and set her back down.  Her own arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him tighter than a vampire wrestler.  But he wouldn't have had it any other way.

She sucked in a few hitching breaths and kissed his neck, then his cheek, but just before her mouth settled over his, she pulled back, biting her lip.

He frowned down at her, and tried to kiss her, but she once again pulled back.  "What gives?" he asked grumpily.

"Um, you have pukey mouth... no offense, but--"

"Hey," he protested, quite offended despite her reassurances, "I brushed.  Twice.  Even used mouthwa--"

Her mouth smothered the rest, and he chuckled.  Not like he had anything important to say anyway.  Nothing was more important at the moment than holding Willow, and touching her face; kissing her delicious little mouth that sometimes ran away with her, and wanting it to run away on parts of him; enjoying the feeling of having her hands sliding up under his shirt.  He pulled back with a groan, resting his forehead against hers.

She was breathing heavily, but her eyes were shining as they stared into his.  A wide smile spread across her face.

"I think we need to research," he mumbled, kissing her thoroughly.  "And, you might not want to touch me a lot."  Reconsidering his words, he grinned crookedly, "Well, at least not from the chest down, or the hips up.  Other than that, feel free to touch wherever you want."  He waggled his brows at her, and leaned forward to kiss her again.

Once again, she pulled away, frowning.  They really needed to stop all this moving away from each other, they'd never get anything accomplished if they didn't continue with the touching and the kissing.  And the more pleasant things.

"So it really wasn't me that made you run to the bathroom?"

Spike laughed, wrapping his arms tightly around her.  "Bloody hell, no.  How could you saying the one thing I wanted to hear more than anything make me upchuck?"

"Really?" she asked, her voice small.  "I mean, really you wanted to hear... *that* more than anything?  Even more than maybe, 'Hey, the implant's gone and will never cause you problems again'?  Or more than, 'Buffy's alive and she and Dru want to have a threesome with you'?  Really?"  Her voice, though teasing, held so much hope that it almost hurt him to think of dashing that hope.  Good thing he wasn't going to then.

"Even more," he assured her.  "Infinitely more.  Exponentially more--"

She laughed, swatting at his arm.  "Okay, okay, Overstating Guy."  She stepped back a few feet, and motioned to the books she'd dropped.  "Guess we should figure out what makes a vampire sick then.  I'm thinking spell."  Now it was her turn to waggle her eyebrows at him.  "The faster you're all better, the faster we can do stuff."

He laughed, reaching out to pull her to him again.  She yelped and landed flush against him with a giggle.  "Stomach's already all better," he whispered, before devouring her mouth with his.  This was a kiss with a purpose, not just a pleasurable kiss, but a kiss that was meant to lead to other things.  He lifted his head from hers briefly, looking around the mostly dark shop.  The table caught his eye and he started to back her up to it.

She looked behind herself and then back at him, widening her eyes.  "We can't," she whispered as if there was a crowd of people standing around listening to them.  Her eyes darted this way and that.  Searching for the non-existent people?  "We researched there, like, a million times.  It'd be... weird."

"We can," he assured her, lifting her up onto the smooth surface, "and we will."  He slid his hands under her shirt, raising it with slow, deliberate movements.  "There'll be no weirdness.  I promise."

Instead of protesting, she nodded excitedly, looking like she was about to do something naughty and there was a chance she could get caught at any moment.  "Okay."  Her own hands slid under his shirt, but then were removed.  "Are you sure you're all right?"

He reached around to unhook her bra, and it only took two tries before the lacy white material was falling to her lap.  "I'm sure," he breathed.  Clearing his throat, he tried again.  "I'm sure."

Her smile widened and all doubt fled.  "Good, because I kinda want you."  Her hands scraped lightly against his stomach, as he leaned down to nip at her delectable lips.  Both were happy to note the lack of negative response to her fingernails on his abdomen.  He helped her rid him of his T-Shirt, and quickly toed off his boots.

His eyes darted to her jeans before returning to her face.  "Take them off."

She hopped off the table, bumping him in the process.  He groaned at the contact, as it made parts of him even more aware of her than they already were.

"Sorry," she mumbled, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them hastily down her hips.  Stepping on the cuffs, she tried desperately to get away from the heavy material, but it seemed to want to keep her imprisoned.  "Ugh.  Shoes," she chuckled, leaning against the table and bending down to pull them off.

Spike was having a few problems of his own.  He unbuttoned his black jeans and tried to yank the zipper down but it got stuck halfway.  He yanked harder and broke the little tab thing off, but at least they were open now, and he could pull them off without taking a pair of scissors to them.  Seeing Willow's struggles with her shoes, he tossed his pants on the pile of books a few feet away and knelt down to help.

She lifted her head, kissing him.  "Thanks.  I seem to be stuck."  A pained grunt left her lips a second later as he jerked a sneaker off one foot.

He'd used too much force, he realized with a wince.  Her back had smacked the edge of the table.

"Ow."

"I'm sorry."  He spun her around, trying to get a look at her back, but she shook her head and toed off her other shoe.

"It's good.  I'm good."  Her smile turned quite evil.  "Let's be good together."

"Always," he mumbled, taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting it just the tiniest bit.  He wanted to feel her skin against his, so he pulled her up with him, not bothering to halt the kiss, and pressed her against him; chest to chest, thigh to thigh.

Her hand, the one without the cast, curled around his neck, holding him tightly to her.  She sighed into his mouth, closing her eyes, and resting her forehead against his.  "I love you, Spike, but you're too slow."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her back on to the table.  “Impatience is a bad trait, love, taking your time has its rewards.”

"So I've been told."  Apparently she'd decided to be daring for once in her life, and show him where her impatience would get him.  Her eyes dropped to his stomach, then lower.

He sucked in a breath when she wrapped her hand around him.  “Then again...”  He hopped up on the table beside her and leaned back on his elbows, letting her have her wicked way with him.

She watched his face as she stroked him, watched as his eyes darkened with desire.  His jaw clenched tight, and his eyes threatened to slide closed, but he managed to keep them open and fixed on her face as she brought him pleasure.  When she ran her thumb over the tip of him, his hips jerked forward.

Her small, pink tongue darted out to lick dry lips, and his eyes flickered to yellow, he could feel it.  She knew what he wanted.  Sliding off the table, she leaned down and took him in her mouth in one smooth motion.  As soon as she closed her mouth around him, he dropped back with a groan, gripping the edges of the table.

She worked her mouth in the most delightful ways for a few minutes, and then he could stand it no longer.  He halted her movements, gazing down at her.  She looked back in question.

Seeing such unrestrained desire on her face and in her eyes, he wasn't able to keep from groaning and closing his eyes.  “I don’t want to... uh... in your mouth... and if you don’t stop now, I will.”

“Oh.”  That, Willow thought.  She’d always been curious about it.  She and Oz had never done more than have sex.  Sometimes she stroked him with her hand, but never had she used her mouth on him.  And now was her chance.

She ran her tongue along the underside of him, and he jerked against her, forcing him further into her mouth.  Sliding her tongue around him, she flicked the tip, tasting him.  Her hands splayed against his stomach, feeling the muscles tightening under her palms.  She heard Spike moaning, and felt a tremendous amount of power.  She was doing this to him, making him lose control.  Making him feel things.  It was a heady experience.  But all too soon it was over.

He pulled her up, sliding to the edge of the table as he did so.  "Game over," he grinned, sliding her panties off and drawing her closer.

"What--" she tried to say, but his mouth smothered hers, and she lost her train of thought.  He jumped down from the table and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist.  "Oh."  She actually meant more than that simple statement, but she couldn't be bothered to actually say them.  He slid inside of her, forcing her to gasp in pleasure.  Her lips found his once again as her inner muscles clenched him tighter.  His hands slid under her rear and lifted her slightly, then let her drop back down.  "Oh," was once again her reply.

Spike's laughter shook both of them, sending delicious shivers through her.  Threading her hands through his hair, she gasped as he thrust inside of her again and again.  Her eyes closed.  She loved this man.  Loved him more than life itself.  And he loved her back.  It was almost too much to believe.  Was Tara right?  Were they actually soul mates?

Just as she felt herself tumbling over the edge, she vowed never to fall out of love with him, and to prove to him everyday just how she deeply she felt for him.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear.

"God, Willow."  His own release followed his words, and she smiled against his neck.  "I love you too," he whispered back.

~~~*~~~

Sometime later, Spike slid down the wall they'd somehow ended up against, and cradled her in his lap and arms.

"We have to talk," she told him.

"Do we have to?" he nearly whined, "I can think of at least sixty better things to be doing right now."  He leaned forward, nipping at her lip.

She sighed, losing herself to the feeling of him, but then pushed him back slightly.  "We really do need to talk.  About that bite.  I think I figured it out.  Why you did it."

He leaned back against the wall, dropping his hands to her waist.  "Fine, we can do the talking thing, but it had better not lead to arguing, because I intend to repeat *this*."  He gestured to them, then traced his fingers slowly up her hips to her sides.

She giggled and squirmed away from his ticklish fingers, slapping his hands down.  "Okay, so here's my theory: I made you do it.  It was my fault you bit me.  You were completely blameless."

He thought about that for a second, nodding thoughtfully as he stared up at the ceiling, then shook his head.  "Don't take the blame away from me.  Don't be a bloody martyr."  He lifted her off of his lap and stood up, walking toward his duster.

Willow watched him fish through his pockets for his crumpled pack of cigarettes, and had to force her mind back to her reasoning behind taking all his blame from him.  "I'm not being a martyr.  I think I did like the Djin said, what I wanted most."

"And what's that?" he asked sarcastically, "me killing you?  Yeah, I can see how you came to that conclusion."  He stuck an unlit cigarette between his lips and searched his pockets again for his lighter.

"No, I didn't want you to kill me," she scoffed, "but I did want all my guilt gone.  All the guilt, shame, and just all around bad feelings.  And aren't those things that vampires love to embrace?  What makes you a demon?"

"Yeah," he said, considering her words carefully, "I guess it is.  Part of it anyway.  Also lots of unhealthy doses of rage, pain, despair... the usual."  He flipped open his Zippo and lit the cigarette, drawing in a deep breath of Cancer-inducing smoke.

"So, see?  I wanted to get rid of all that guilt and stuff from sleeping with William, and cheating on Tara, and then with you.  And I... am just a big ho," she finished, sounding a bit pout-y even to her own ears.

Spike's, 'Aha!' and 'I knew it!' while pointing at her, had her nodding guiltily.  He once again began fishing through his duster pockets, and she had to wonder if he had a kitchen sink in there too.

He tossed something at her, while gathering their hastily thrown about clothing.  She caught the dark blue material one handed, and looked down to see what she'd won.  "Spike.  Did anyone ever tell you how *not* sexy it is to pull someone else's underwear out of your pocket?  Especially after having just done..." she gestured to the table, "that!"  Anger was floating through her, and she had to stop herself from marching over to him and smacking him in the back of the head with her cast.

"Didn't think you'd mind," he chuckled, tossing more clothing at her, this time her blouse.  "Found them in my crypt," he mentioned conversationally.

Willow shoved her arms into the sleeves of her blouse, and yanked it down, ripping it a little with her none too gentle treatment of the thin fabric.  "Didn't think I'd mind?" she repeated furiously.  "You throw somebody's underwear at me and expect me not to care?  You stupid..." unable to find any word suitable for what she thought him at that moment, she stomped her foot, wincing as her bare heel hit the tile floor.  "Are they Harmony's?  And, what?  You thought," she deepened her voice, trying to sound like Spike, "'I'll shag the witch and then toss Harmony's underwear at her.  That'll be fun!'"  She grabbed her jeans off the floor and shoved her feet into them, then yanked them up, buttoning them with shaky fingers.

He was watching her as he stepped casually into his own pants, as if she was overreacting, or being foolish.  He slowly removed the cigarette from his lips, and shook his head.  "Not Harmony's," he told her.  "They're yours."

"Mine?" she repeated stupidly.  "Those aren't..." she tossed a quick look at the blue panties she'd dropped on the floor, and well, now that he mentioned it... she did have a pair of dark blue underwear.  Hadn't worn them in a while though.  And why?  Because she hadn't seen them.  "Ew."  Now she did go over and slap him, on the arm though, and without the cast.  "That's disgusting, Spike.  Gross.  Didn't you learn anything from Buffy?  Stealing women's underwear or other clothing, and doing..." she glanced at the underwear in disgust, and saw that they were torn.  "Ew!  What did you do to them?" she yelled.

He turned a serious look her way.  "Didn't do anything *to* them, I did it *with* them.  We're in love, Willow, your panties and I, and it's a deep and lasting love that occasionally requires physical--"

She snorted with laughter at the unrestrained mirth in his eyes.  "That's really-- well, you know, still sick, but funny."

"Relax, Willow.  I found them in William's chair cushions way back when."

Her eyes widened, and she could've sworn she felt a little hurt in there.  Yep, definitely hurt, though why, she had no idea.  "He's sleeping with her?  Robin?"

Spike was shaking his head as he looked around for the rest of their clothes.  "No, they're yours.  You're sleeping with him.  Ah," he mumbled, bending down to pick up her tennis shoes.  "Shoes.  And it stops.  Now.  No more sleeping with anyone else."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, "like I'm sleeping with everyone in town."

"I mean it, Willow.  I'm the jealous type.  Who wouldn't be after living with Dru's infidelities for over a century?  I ever hear rumors of you being with someone other than me, I'll kill the person.  Unless it's a human, then I'll hire someone else to do it."  He stared down at her, his face dead serious.

"Well, isn't that a mood breaker," she said softly, grabbing her shoes from him and sitting down to put them on.  She had no intention of sleeping with anyone else.  Spike was the only one she wanted.  Okay, yeah, she'd cheated on Oz sort of, kissed Xander anyway, but that's all, nothing more.  And the Tara cheating only came about because of Tara, and-- really she needed to stop placing blame on everyone else and just own up to her shortcomings.

She'd cheated on everyone.  She was a bad, bad person who didn't deserve love.  But, once again, she'd found it.  And it'd found her.  She looked over at Spike.  He was leaning against the counter, smoking his cigarette as he watched her.  Tying her laces, she dropped her foot to the floor and stood up.

"We should go before someone calls the cops."  Bending down, she collected the books she'd dropped in her happiness, wrapped her arms around them again, and gestured toward the back.

Spike followed her into the training room after gathering his duster, and two pairs of her underwear from the floor.  Face flaming, Willow left the Magic Box behind.

~Part: 20~

(November 2001)

Without needing to discuss it, Willow and Spike both headed in the direction of Spike's crypt.  Conversation was almost nonexistent due to the fact that they were both watching out for evil creatures bent on ruining their night.  Plus that big ole honkin' threat he'd just tossed out there.  She wasn't upset about it though, and she had no right to be.  Understanding his jealous nature was easy.

After a few blocks, Spike suddenly stopped, pressing her back against the brick façade of Harry's Garage.  She looked around, wondering if it was a vampire, a demon, or a shapeshifter.  Before she could ask, she found out rather quickly that it was a vampire, but he was hardly out to ruin their night.  In fact, as Spike's mouth settled over hers, she was quite happy for the interruption.

She was panting and breathless by the time he pulled away, smirking.  Bending down to gather the poor, abused books she'd once again dropped, she had to be thankful they weren't old, or collector's editions.

"What was that for?" she asked him, positive that her grin was now a permanent feature on her face.

He took two of the heavier tomes from her and shrugged.  "I need a reason?"

"Nope," she assured him.  "Feel free to do that whenever you want.  In fact, I demand it.  And I'd like to place future requests."  She knew she was acting silly and giddy, but she was in love.  Cloud nine was like, ten stories below her at the moment.  Being in love was the best feeling ever.  No, strike that.  Being in love and being loved back was the best feeling ever.

They made it to Spike's crypt twenty minutes later, much slower than it should've taken them.  Who knew Spike had such a penchant for groping and kissing?  Giles' poor books were taking a huge beating, and she was once again thankful for them not being prized possessions.

Almost as soon as they were through the door, Spike dropped the books to the floor.  They landed with a loud thump, one right after the other.  His eyes stayed fixed on her face as he kicked the door shut behind him and started toward her.  She felt a weird sense of déjà vu.  William had stalked her in a similar fashion that first time they'd slept together, and maybe now wasn't the best time to be thinking of William.  Even if he was Spike.

She set her book on his bed, backing away from him.  "Um," she said, licking her suddenly dry lips, "I should really..." she paused, forgetting what she was saying when he pulled his shirt off over his head.  Taking a much needed breath after staring at him without breathing for a good ten seconds, she shook her head and continued.  "Really, uh... oh yeah, look up a reason for you getting sick."

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, running his hand absently over his bare chest as he paced closer, in no way trying to bring attention to himself, she was sure.  "You should definitely look into that."

She could see that he had no clue what they were talking about, and no intention of letting her research.  "Will you stop that?" she asked, backing away another step.  As much as she wanted to simply jump into his arms and have a marathon sex session, she needed to figure this out.  Plus the shapeshifter.  She had new resources, and she intended to find something before the decade was out.  It wasn't suddenly going to be put on hold just because they'd finally admitted their feelings to one another.

"No," he returned, grinning as he moved with her.

She put the sarcophagus between them, and reached across to grab his hands, holding him there so he couldn't move around to her side.  "Spike.  Hello?  What if you get sick again?  What if it's going to get worse?"  Seeing he still wasn't convinced, she made a disgusted face.  "What if it happens in the middle of... something important?  No offense, but that's not something I'd like to experience.  Ever."

Now he looked equally as disgusted.  "Yeah, I think researching is good.  Go ahead," he told her generously, "research away.  I'll watch the telly."

"Hey," she protested, "you could help, you know.  We could cover more ground that way."

He turned her hands around in his, and kissed her palm before dropping them and heading toward his chair.  "If I help you, we'll be covering ground, but it won't have anything to do with books or research."  His grin was huge as he bent to turn his TV on.  "All you have to do is give me the word, and I'll be there to help in a heartbeat."

She snorted, rolling her eyes at his wink.  "Gee thanks, Spike.  I'll be done in no time now."

Without a lot of choices for sitting spaces, she climbed on top of his stone bed, hanging her legs off the side and setting the book on her lap.  Unfortunately, she was facing Spike, and his occasional looks over at her were not really occasional, and more of the all-the-time variety.  She only knew this because her glances up at him were equally as all-the-time as his.  And she was getting nothing done.  Couldn't remember one word she'd read.  After the millionth look at Spike, she toed off her shoes and rolled over onto her stomach, and scooted up until her head was near the top of his bed.  His pillow went under her arms, and the book took the pillow's place.

Much better.  She could read, and not see Spike unless she wanted to contort herself into all sorts of weird and painful positions, and his pillow smelled like him.  Crossing her unhurt arm on top of her casted one, she rested both atop his pillow and laid her head down, setting about reading.  The sound of the TV in the background and Spike's occasional laughter was more normal to her than her house with her parents in it.

How weird was that?

Half an hour later, she finally found it.  The spell Tara had used to send Spike into her dreams.  It was similar to the one she'd used to go into Buffy's mind when she went catatonic, but slightly different.  Going into dreams was different than going into someone's thoughts and memories it seemed.  And look, a major side effect of doing the spell was severe nausea.  Probably to warn off anyone from doing the spell for evil purposes, or from doing it a lot.  Luckily, it went away on its own.  Good thing Spike wasn't real prone to human frailties, otherwise she was sure he'd still be in the bathroom at the Magic Box becoming intimately acquainted with the toilet bowl.

"Found it," she called over her shoulder, not bothering to contort herself to see him.  "It's a side effect of the spell Tara did on you, and it's probably already worn off.  How're you feeling?"

"Bloody peachy," he said from beside her.

Oh!"  She jumped in surprise, and smacked him on the arm.  "Scare me to death."

He laughed at the disgruntled look on her face, and leaned down to kiss her.  His hand rested on the curve of her back, not moving, but damn if it didn't cause little shivers of want and need to sweep through her.

She looked up at him, and saw, not his usual smirk gracing his lips, but a soft, tender look mixed in with a whole lot of lust and desire.  It was the same expression she'd seen on his face when he looked at Buffy.  And now it was for her.

She sat up rather clumsily, banging her cast on the stone a few times, but finally ended up in a position to face him.  Kneeling on the hard stone, she wondered if he could possibly get a mattress or two, maybe even a real bed.  "You know, they've made huge advances in bedding since you were human."

"You want a bed?" he asked, but before she could do much more than nod, he was gesturing to her book.  "All done here?"

She looked from the book to him.  Was she done?  He was certainly looking really inviting and sexy and lusty.  His hair, usually slicked back, was messed up from their earlier romping session in the Magic Box, and all the kissing and groping on the way home... and it looked so soft and inviting to the touch.  One lock had fallen over his forehead, and she reached up to brush it back, letting her hand linger longer than necessary.

A sigh escaped her as she dropped her hand.  They still needed to find the stupid shapeshifter.  But why was she so gung-ho for doing this now, especially when all she wanted to do was be with Spike.  "You know, I think I'm all researched out.  Yep.  Couldn't look at another word.  Turn another page.  Understand a single spell."

His grin now, was filled with a lot of that smirking it'd lacked earlier.  "You don't say," he whispered, leaning closer to her.  Instead of kissing her like she wanted him to do, he pulled her off of the sarcophagus and walked her to the end of it.  "Come on."  He yanked something up--a door, she realized--and gestured to the hole left behind.  "After you."

Now, to say she wasn't a little nervous would be a lie, but to say she was scared would be more than an exaggeration.  She trusted Spike, wholly and completely.  She just didn't know what to expect from the deep, dark hole that possibly led to the sewers.  Shrugging, she descended the ladder into absolute darkness.  A second later, she saw Spike's shape descend the ladder, blocking the meager light from above, creating even more darkness.  And then light flared bright and she could see a lantern, held by Spike.

He walked away from her, taking the light with him.  "Stay there."

From what she could see, there were stone walls, possibly dirt.  Carved dirt walls.  Kinda smelled a little musty, but there was also something else there.  Something that reminded her of Spike.  "Wow," she muttered.  "A hole in the ground.  Every girl's dream home.  Where's the Trading Spaces crew when you need them?"

Spike's laughter drifted over to her as she heard his lighter flick open.  He lit another lantern, and turned it up all the way.  Light flooded the underground chamber and Willow had to gasp.

"Wow," she muttered again, but this time she meant it.  There was a huge bed in the corner, covered in, what else?  Silk sheets and blankets.  Rugs covered the floor, a dresser was against one wall, and nightstands too, pretty much everything one could need for a bedroom.  Even lights.  Electric lights.

She turned the switch on the lamp beside her, and light happened.  Spike joined her, grinning from ear to ear at her stunned expression.  His hand covered hers, still on the light's switch and turned it off.  "Your bed," he said smugly, gesturing grandly to the--once again, huge came to mind--bed.

"When did... you mean this has been here the whole time?  And you never once... well, no, Buffy never mentioned a bed when she told me about the chains, and Drusilla, and wow."

"I think that's been covered," he laughed.  "Been gathering stuff for a few months.  Got tired of sleeping on that stone slab, and craved a little more comfort."  Drawing her over to the bed, he sat on the edge of it.  Shirtless.  On his bed.  Looking at her like she was a piece of chocolate.

~~~*~~~

Waking up in Spike's bed, with Spike wrapped around her, was a little on the weird side.  She'd done it before, but never with all the ingredients thrown together at once.  A real bed, Spike, her, sex, love.

She reached out, smoothing her hand down his face, to his shoulder, shaking him awake.  After a night filled with lots of sex and not much else, he looked perfect, if a little mussed.  She, on the other hand, had bed hair, a bad case of morning breath, and an urgent need to pee.

His eyes popped open, alert to the point of scary.  When he saw her, his face softened, and his eyes melted her heart.  "It's morning," he mumbled, stretching languidly.  "Why are you awake at this ungodly hour?"  His eyes flickered to the clock on the nightstand and he groaned.  "Extremely ungodly hour," he muttered.

"Noon is an ungodly hour?" she asked, sitting up with the blanket pulled to her chest.  They may have had much sex recently, and be in love, but she still wasn't about to just drop all modesty and bare everything.

"It is to me, and every other vampire out there.  A lot of demons too."  He frowned at her as she leaned over the side of the bed and pulled her blouse on.  "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah.  To the nearest bathroom."  She blushed, chiding herself for being embarrassed about a normal human need.  "Wouldn't happen to have a master bathroom hidden around here, would ya?" she laughed, tossing the sheet back and climbing out of bed in search of her pants.

"Not exactly a master bath, but useable.  Has running water, and toothpaste, mouthwash.  Everything a human needs, not to mention the hygienically inclined creature of the night."

She turned back to face him, raising her eyebrows in surprise.  "Really?"

He looked away, shrugging.  She thought he was embarrassed, but he was only searching for his ever present cigarettes.  "Got a lot of humans traipsing through here, don't I?"  Realizing what he'd said, he shook his head at himself.  "Did.  Past tense.  And the little one, she was over here all the time, begging for stories."  He pulled a cigarette out, and was about to light it when he saw her look.  "What?"

"You should really quit smoking.  It's disgusting.  Tastes really gross."  She sat down to put her shoes on, sighing when he lit it anyway.

He smirked, smacking his lips.  "Tastes fine to me."

Her eyes shot to his at the familiar words.  William had said the exact same thing when she'd chastised him for smoking.  It made sense that they'd say similar things, they were the same person, after all.  But still, it was creepy.

His grin widened when she stared at him.  He leaned back against the headboard, blowing smoke into the air above his head, and she knew he was going to say the same thing William had.

"Nummy," they said together.

Spike's grin faded.  He was trying so hard not to look suspicious, but his confused expression was pretty pathetic, and she didn't buy it for a second.  "How did you know what I was going to say?"

"Because," she answered, tying her lace and dropping her foot to the floor, "I've already had this conversation with you."

Spike's eyes narrowed, and she just knew he was going to start an argument.  One she didn't want to have, at least not yet.

"Bathroom?" she reminded him.

He motioned behind her with his eyes, which were still narrowed.  She turned around, looking at the wall.  The darkness was deeper in one spot, so she headed that way, feeling against the wall.  It suddenly wasn't there anymore, and she could hear sounds further away.  Dripping water and squishy, scampering sounds.  Suppressing a shudder, she picked up one of the lanterns on the nightstand beside the bed, lit it with Spike's lighter and headed off.

"Oh, hey," Spike called after her, "if you happen to run into William in there, could you not have sex with him?"

Okay, she thought, making her way down the sewer tunnel, apparently Spike has issues.  And, she could understand that.  She'd slept with a whole lot of people... recently.  Well, actually, only Spike.  And William, who was Spike.  Sure she'd cheated on Oz with Xander, Tara with William.  William with Spike... oy.

Perhaps she should concentrate on the tunnel that was kind of gross, rather than on who she'd betrayed and how.  She just needed to find a way to convince Spike that she wasn't going to cheat on him, and then everything would work itself out.  Right?

She found the bathroom easily enough due to the dripping water growing louder, and the smell of something yucky and thankfully unidentifiable growing stronger.  There was a heavy piece of wood hanging by new hinges on a piece of board that went the length of the doorway, and even a doorknob of sorts, though the door didn't shut all the way, or connect to anything.  It swung free, but was leaning inward enough that it stayed shut without leaving too big a gap.

And as she pushed the makeshift door open, she wondered how on earth Spike had accomplished this.  Sink, tub, toilet, just the barest essentials, but a miracle under the cemetery.  The place was filthy, but considering it was carved out of dirt, she wasn't going to complain.  The toilet, sink, and tub were all clean, and-- after trying all three, she was happy to find them all in working order as well.

A couple of mint green throw rugs littered the floor, as did a couple of mismatched towels near the tub.  Shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, mouthwash... it was all there, just as promised.  She grinned, and hurriedly went pee, brushed her teeth with her finger, and rinsed her mouth a few times with the mouthwash.

After returning to Spike's bedroom, she stood in the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest, leaving the lantern to dangle from her fingers.  "How?" was all she asked.

He was dressed as well now, and standing by the dresser.  Before he shut the drawer, she saw a lot of black inside.  She was proud of herself for not rolling her eyes; he might not take too kindly to being teased about his wardrobe.

"Had a few demons who owed me," he explained with a shrug, heading to the bathroom himself.

She watched him until he disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel.  His footsteps, crunching on the dirt, grew fainter with each step.  When she could neither see, nor hear him any longer, she sat down on his bed, bouncing happily a few times.  A book on the floor beside the bed on Spike's side caught her eye.  She leaned down to pick it up.  It was a well-read paperback copy of a Stephen King novel.

"The Shining," she mumbled, "huh.  Gosh, who'd have guessed a big bad evil vampire was a fan of Stephen King?"

"Dawn gave it to me," Spike said from behind her, so close that his breath fanned across her cheek.  His no longer cigarette smelling breath.

She jumped a couple of inches, spinning around to face him.  The book went flying through the air.  Spike caught it as she tried to calm her racing heart.  "Stop doing that," she yelled.  "Is that, like, foreplay for you?"

He chuckled, tossing the book on the nightstand.  "Maybe."  He cupped her face, kissing her before she could say anything more.

Her anger was quickly disappearing in the face of so much touching, and nice tasting Spike lips.  "Minty fresh," she said, smacking her own lips.  "Now *that's* nummy.  Tobacco?  Not so much."

"I'll cut back," he told her, his eyes apologetic only to the point of not showing outright annoyance.  "But first."  He backed her against the wall, planting his hands on either side  of her head, kissing her again.  Deeply, thoroughly, and she knew where it was going to lead.  Where she wanted it to lead.

Sliding her arms around his waist she sighed contentedly, and broke the kiss.  "First, we need to talk."

"Why?" he grinned seductively.  "I told you before, I can think of a whole range of things we could be doing.  And not one of them involves talking."  His eyebrow quirked up as he tilted his head to the side.  "They do involve mouths though."

Her knees went a little weak, and she covered for it by dropping to the bed.  Sex was... really, really good with Spike, and fun, and wow, and amazing, but he didn't trust her, and she needed to find out how she could make him do that.

Which meant serious big-time talking.

Judging by the grin widening on his face, he knew the effect he was having on her.  "Something wrong?" he asked innocently.

Instead of denying it, she thought maybe she'd go with the truth for once.  She shook her head with a smile.  "Nope.  I'm just-- you make me go all gooey."

Spike burst out laughing.  "Good to know."  He leaned back against the wall, watching her curiously.  "But, if I make you go all gooey," he smirked, "then why are you over there, and I'm over here?"

"Because I can't talk and think and do other things I need to do logically when I'm near you."

"Ah," he nodded wisely.  "Of course."  A few seconds later, he shook his head.  "Screw logic.  Better yet, screw me."  And there was that sexy look again.  The one she needed to ignore for the time being.

"First, I need to talk.  Then maybe the other."  If you still want me, she added silently.  "But definitely talking first."  Taking a deep breath, she plunged right in.  "Do you really think I'll sleep around on you?"  She was hurt that he'd think that, and yet, she understood his reasoning.  Her record so far was way less than stellar.

He pushed away from the wall with a sigh, looking like he didn't want to start this any more than her.  After a few seconds of silence, he sat at the head of the bed, leaned back against the headboard and drew her to him, raising his legs on either side of her.  She settled back against him, feeling safe and secure in his arms.  And loved, definitely loved.  Why couldn't he feel her love for him?

"No.  Not intentionally.  Not purposefully," he responded.  "But temptation is sometimes really hard to resist."

She wanted to deny it immediately, answer in the negative, but she didn't think he'd believe her.  She hadn't wanted to cheat on Oz or Tara either, but she had.  Why?  Because of temptation.

Because she wasn't completely content with them.

There was contentment when she was with Spike.  A feeling of being home.  That's the only way she could describe it.  She hadn't felt it completely with Oz, Tara, or Xander.  Not solely.  There was something from each and every one of them that she'd wanted, craved, needed, but there wasn't anything about them alone that could satisfy the need in her.

She wasn't even making sense to herself now, how was she supposed to explain this to Spike?

Instead of continuing along that vein, she decided to branch off and explain it to him the same way he'd explained things to her.  "Did you know that I've loved Xander since we were, like, five?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist, threading his hands with hers.  "No."

"I did," she confirmed, smiling reminiscently.  "When we were kids, and the other kids picked on me, Xander made them stop.  He stood up to Cordelia when she was mean and I was too scared to say anything.  And Harmony," she laughed, remembering their eventful first meeting with the bitch turned vampire.  "He was like this big ole knight in shining armor, and I was the damsel in distress.  Only he saw me as a kid sister, or worse yet, just one of the guys."

"His loss," Spike told her, trying to sound supportive, but she could tell he wasn't really in his element here.  Children were probably a big mystery to him.  Or tasty.  Ew.

"Yeah.  But then Oz came along, and he knew I loved Xander, and he was patient.  Willing to wait."  She remembered all the times he'd refused to let their make-out sessions go any further because he wanted her to want him, not Xander by proxy.  She'd been a little ticked off at the time, and really frustrated, but grateful to him.  Especially now, looking back.  "Finally, I realized how stupid it was to make myself miserable just on the off chance that Xander would suddenly realize I was there.  So I turned to Oz, and he was so sweet, and really nice, and--"

"Sweet, yeah, I get it."  Spike shifted a little behind her.

Uncomfortable with their position, or the conversation? she wondered.  "Yeah.  So I moved on, and I fell in love with Oz."

"And we're moving on to something else," he said impatiently.  "I don't care to hear about the boy, the dog or the witch.  Why are you telling me this?"

She sat up, unlacing her hands from his.  He let her go, and reached over to the nightstand to light one of those cigarettes he'd just promised to cut back on.

"I'm trying to tell you-- to explain," she said helplessly., gesturing at him.  "I want you, Spike.  Only you.  Oz, Xander, Tara, they all had something that drew me to them, but it wasn't--" she sighed, unsure what she was trying to tell him.  "When I was with them, something was missing, but I didn't realize it at the time.  Looking back now, I know that it was just... incomplete.  Something wasn't there when it should've been."  She stood up angrily, pacing as she tried to think.

Spike watched her silently, not offering her any help, letting her work things out on her own.

"With Oz," she muttered, "he was sweet, and nice, and I loved him.  But there just wasn't any..." she shook her head helplessly, "need, I guess.  You know, that gotta-have-you-now sort of thing?  It was more, take your time, we have all day."

"Yeah," Spike agreed, taking a drag off his cigarette.  "It was like that with Dru a lot."

Okay, she really didn't want to hear that, but since she was being share-gal, she couldn't expect him not to be share-guy.  Looking over at him, she wondered how it had taken so long for her to fall in love with him.  "And then Tara happened," she said with a shrug.  "With her, things were new, and different, and," she grinned to herself, "sort of naughty, and forbidden, and there was definitely need.  But there wasn't any... passion.  I mean, there was, but not like what we have."  She gestured to the two of them.

"Fire," Spike offered, his face blank.  She hated when he did that.  She liked to know what he was thinking.

"Exactly," she agreed.  "And Xander.  He was just the fulfillment of a childhood crush.  Something I'd wanted almost all my life, and there was the added bonus of love."  She stopped pacing, turning to face him with a frown.  "Do you understand what I'm saying?  Because I don't know how else to explain it."

He nodded, crushing his cigarette out on the floor.  Sparks and ashes fell to the dirt, and she watched them fade away.  Her eyes raised back to him when he spoke.

"With Oz, you had passion, with Tara, you had need, and with Xander, you had the fulfillment of a childhood crush."  Getting to his feet, he stood before her, looking down into her eyes.  "What do you have with me?" he whispered.

She sucked in a breath, unsure how to answer him.  What came out was inadequate, but it summed it up enough for now.  "Everything."

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