What Comes Around, Goes Around

Author: sinecure

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~Part: 6~

(February 2000)

Spike sat on the watcher's couch, his feet in front of him as usual, legs crossed and eyes fixed on Willow.  A week had passed since his Willow had left, and he'd found himself visiting Giles' more and more, hoping to see her.

Since he'd previously expressed his dislike, distrust and disgust of the group, his suddenly showing up almost every night was a little suspicious.  He didn't care about that.

It was Willow's fear of him that he didn't like.  He didn't want her to be afraid of him.  Sure, he'd enjoyed it at first.  But night after night he came to the ex-watcher's house and night after night she regarded him with fear.  It actually seemed to be growing.  He couldn't understand it.

He sighed heavily, dropping his feet to the floor.  All eyes turned to him, and he glared at each one in turn.

"Spike, could I speak with you in the kitchen for a moment?" Giles asked politely, though his tone and glare were anything but.  Spike shrugged and followed the man into the tiny room.

"Yeah?" he asked belligerently.

Giles regarded him steadily, his gaze never wavering.  "What is it that you want?  We're all tired of waiting around for the other shoe to drop, so just spill it."

Spike shook his head in confusion.  "Don't know what you're talking about, Rupert.  I'm here to help.  Uh, fight the forces of evil, and all that."  He sounded pretty unconvincing and he knew it.

Giles crossed his arms over his chest and managed to look pretty menacing.  "You hurt anyone here, Spike, I won't wait for Buffy to go after you.  I'll kill you myself."

Spike believed him.  There was something rather... evil about him just then.  This, Spike knew, was Ripper shining through.  He nodded his acknowledgment.  "Got it."  He attempted to move by Giles and go back to watching Willow, but Giles grabbed him by his duster, yanking him back against the counter.  Out of sight of the others.

"This is not a game, Spike.  Do not doubt that I will kill you."

Spike fought the urge to fight back.  Something he had to do more often than he liked.  He hated this.  He hated them.  Willow was the only one he wanted to be around, and even that was unsatisfying.  But it was better than nothing.  He brushed Giles' hands away and straightened up.  "I said, got it," he ground out, shoving past the ex-watcher.  He tossed a quick glance at Willow on his way to the door, and found her watching him.  He smirked at her, and she quickly looked away.

He slammed the door behind him with a growl, and headed for the cemetery.  He needed to kill something.  Then he would get a few glasses of blood from Willy's.  What he wanted more than anything though, was Willow in his bed.  He was obsessed.  One taste hadn't been enough.  He'd known it then, and he definitely knew it now.

He had another few hours until Jonathon's World took over, so he decided to have a little fun.  He veered off to the right, changing directions.

The college campus was full of students walking this way and that, but he paid them no mind.  He was looking for one student in particular.  A blonde one.  He stood outside her window, knowing she'd see him soon enough.  Sure enough, not five minutes later, she looked out her window.  He could see her fear even as far away as he was.  He lit a cigarette and waited.  Watched.

Half an hour later, Willow showed up, hurrying across the campus toward her dorm.  Spike smelled her before he saw her.  She had a distinctive scent.  It was all Willow.  She didn't use perfumes or scented soap, and it turned him on more than any perfume he'd ever smelled.

Before he realized what he was doing, he stepped in front of her, halting her progress along the sidewalk.  She bumped into him, falling on her butt on the ground.  Spike chuckled at her.

She glared up at him and got to her feet.  "Spike."  There was exasperation in her voice, and annoyance.  "What are you doing here?  Shouldn't you be lurking... elsewhere?"

His eyes roamed over her from head to toe, drinking her in.  She licked her lips nervously, fidgeting under his perusal.

He sighed.  "Not doing a thing, Red.  Just out for a walk."  He tossed a glance behind him, knowing the witch was still watching them, and stepped closer to Willow, taking her elbow.  Looked like an intimate little conversation from Tara's point of view.  He walked her to her door, leaned close and whispered, "Don't you know it's not safe out here, Red?"

She pulled back, but by now they were out of sight of the blonde witch.  "You're starting to get creepy."  She spun on her heel and darted inside, taking the stairs two at a time.

Spike watched her until she was out of sight, then headed back to his tree.  Tara was still looking out her window.  He tossed his cigarette to the ground and left.  Willow would be there a while, he knew, and things were about to get interesting.

(September 2001)

Willow pushed herself into a sitting position with her good arm.  The other, in a sling, hung uselessly by her side.  Willow felt better than she had in a while.  One of the nurses had helped her shower earlier, and Tara had brought her a pair of flannel pajamas from home.  Her hair was brushed and clean and things felt almost normal.

Except she was in the hospital and almost all of her friends were dead.

Willow resolutely pushed those thoughts away and focused on the now.  On the two people she had left in Sunnydale.  Both Spike and Tara were there.  Tara was sitting with her on the bed.  Spike was standing across the room, almost hidden in shadows.  He looked uncomfortable, so she took pity on him.

"You don't have to stay, Spike.  I'll be fine.  I am fine.  Tara's here."  She smiled at him, hoping he'd do his usual relieved sigh thing and hurry out, glad to be free.  But he didn't, and she wasn't surprised.  It had been a week since their friends died, and he'd been there with her every night.  Tara came during the day, while he slept and avoided dying in the bright rays.

"Not like I have somewhere better to be."  He leaned against the wall, and looked out the window, into the night.  "Besides, I want to be here when... they get here.  Anything to piss Angel off."

She rolled her eyes at him.  "When are they coming?  Do you know?"

He shrugged, trying to portray unconcern, but his shoulders were too stiff, his jaw clenched too tightly.

"Um, I think they should be here any minute," Tara said, smiling at Willow.  "Cordelia said they were leaving just after sunset."

Willow nodded, looking away from her lover.  Angel, Cordelia and Wesley were on their way.  She didn't want them here.  Somehow, if they came, it would make it all real.  She didn't want it to be real.

Tara squeezed Willow's hand, tossed a quick look at Spike, and stood up.  "I'm going to get some coffee.  You want some?"  They both shook their heads and she left the room quietly, giving them time alone to talk.

Willow watched Spike for a few minutes.  His eyes were focused outside, but she knew that his attention was focused inward.  His thoughts miles away.  He sighed and turned his head, meeting her gaze.  "Angel," he answered, before she could ask.  He chuckled ruefully.  "He's not gonna be happy to see me, so I should probably go."

"But you just said--"

"Changed my mind."  He pushed away from the wall.

"Stay.  Please.  I-- I don't want them here," she confessed, feeling awful for saying it.

He dropped into the chair next to the bed.  "Thought they were your friends and all that?"

She straightened her sling.  Pulled the blanket a little higher.  Smoothed it out.  When she started to straighten her sling again, she felt his hand on hers and went still.  "Sorry.  I'm fidgety when I'm nervous."  She stared down at his large, pale hand covering hers.  Her hand turned, twining with his as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  "They are my friends.  At least, Angel is, or was.  I haven't seen him in over a year, even before... " she'd almost said, 'even before the time period I went back to'  And then she could've thrown in, 'before you and I slept together' just to make it complete.  Great way to make him think she was delusional, unable to differentiate between dreams and reality.

"Before, um, Christmas," she added lamely.  "And Cordelia and I?  We talked a couple of times on the phone... I told her about Harmony."  She laughed in remembrance.  "Cordelia and Harmony were best friends in high school.  Harmony went to visit her a few months ago, and," she giggled, "Cordelia thought she was coming on to her, because she told her she couldn't resist wanting her and there was this whole big thing, and... anyway, we never really were friends in a friendly sort of way.  She sort of hated me."  Willow grinned impudently.  "I stole her boyfriend."

Spike laughed, looking more relaxed than she'd seen him all week.  He rolled his eyes at her.  "The moron doesn't count," he said, and then fell quiet when he realized what he'd said.

She fell quiet as well, forcing back tears.  She had cried herself dry, or so she'd thought.  "So Cordelia isn't exactly going to be nice, I'm sure.  Be warned.  And Wesley?  Well, we never really even-- actually, I don't know him at all.  He was Faith's Watcher, and I kind of hated Faith with a fiery passion.  Coulda roasted marshmallows on it."

He grinned at her, and she had a sudden memory of the two of them in bed, talking about who they would and wouldn't want to sleep with.  She shook herself mentally.  They were dreams, not memories.  She had to remember that, otherwise she'd never get through this.

"I'm just afraid... if they come here, it sort of makes it more real.  They'll stay dead if Angel comes here.  Sounds stupid, I know, but I can't help it."

He shook his head.  "Doesn't sound stupid.  Sounds human."  His eyes fell to their clasped hands.  He was examining them as if he'd never seen hands before.  She squeezed his lightly.  Tara came into the room a few seconds later, and Willow dropped his hand guiltily.  Tara set her cup of coffee on the table beside the bed, and sat beside her girlfriend.

Willow glanced at Spike under her brows.  He was watching the two of them oddly.  He didn't notice her watching him, otherwise she was sure she never would've seen the envy and loneliness in his eyes.

"I think your friends are here," Tara said.  "Is Angel real tall, dark hair, long black coat?  'Cause there's a guy out there like that with a woman with short dark hair with blonde streaks.  And a smaller man with glasses, kinda nervous looking."

Spike snorted at her description.  "That's them.  Except the cheerleader.  Last I saw, she had long hair.  Real long."

"She cut it," a voice said from the doorway.

Both Tara and Spike jumped up, and backed away from Willow, giving the newcomers space to greet Willow.

Cordelia hooked a thumb over her shoulder.  "Took them almost two weeks to notice it, and here you guys haven't even seen it and you notice it already."  She stepped into the room, followed by Angel and Wesley.

"Willow.  Are you okay?" Angel asked, concern etched into his face.

"Miss Rosenberg.  Sorry about your loss."  That was Wesley.

Cordelia hugged her awkwardly, and Willow caught Spike's rueful grin over Cordelia's shoulder.  "I can't believe they're gone," Cordy whispered.

Willow nodded, not trusting herself to speak.  Angel ignored Spike completely.  He sat down in the chair Spike had vacated.  "Are you all right?" he asked again.

"I'm fine.  Tara and Spike are--"

"Oh, Tara, nice to meet you," Angel said, nodding toward the nervous blonde.  Willow frowned.  She looked from Angel's concerned face to Spike's blank one.

Cordy, standing next to Tara, shook her hand with a smile.  Wesley did so as well, and her poor girlfriend was looking quite overwhelmed.

Willow turned back to Spike, but he was gone.  The door swung silently shut behind him.  She glared at Angel.  Was a, 'hello, Spike' too much to ask for?  Apparently so.  Someone was tapping her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts.  It was Tara, she had her jacket and coffee, ready to leave.

"Are you leaving?" Willow asked, feeling like everyone was abandoning her.

"Uh-huh.  I think you guys need time alone.  I'll be back tomorrow morning."  She leaned over and kissed Willow softly.  "G'night."

"Night," Willow whispered.  Tara left the room and Willow turned her attention back to the trio from L.A., who all seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at her.  She wondered if it was the gay thing, the long time apart thing, or the, 'all our friends are dead' thing.  Willow fought an hysterical giggle, but she couldn't fight the tears.

(February 2000)

Spike was walking through the cemetery on his way home from Willy's when he heard voices behind him.  It was Jonathan and his groupies.  Willow was with them, but she and the others were hanging slightly back from Jonathan and Buffy.  Spike had no real wish for a run-in with any of them, except Willow, but not now, with her surrounded by her friends.  He slipped behind a bush and waited for them to pass him by.

Jonathan was lecturing Buffy on the habits of vampires, which, if she was the slayer, she should have known.

"Vampires only form nests to make hunting easier.  They're not big on the cooperation.  They mostly like to hang out all creepy and alone in the shadows.  Don't you agree... Spike?"

Spike cursed silently and stepped out from behind the bush.  "Well, well, the man himself."

"What are you doing here?" Jonathan asked, as he and Spike circled each other threateningly.

"I live here.  I wasn't exactly pining for a noisy visit from Wonder Jonathan and His Fluffy Battle Kittens."  This guy really bugged Spike for some reason.  There was just something off about a guy who was so damn good at everything.  Had to be a demon or something.  Maybe a spell.  No way was anyone this talented and lucky.

"Yeah?" Buffy joined in.  "You think that one up with all the time you spend not being able to bite people?"

"Careful, he's still pretty dangerous," Jonathan warned her.

Spike's pride and self worth shot up about thirty points.  "Yeah, back off Betty."

Buffy took offense at that and tried her hand at being witty.  "It's Buffy, you big, bleached... stupid guy."  She failed miserably.

And there was Jonathan, acting the big manly stud.  "Spike you're the worst type of scum.  The second you're back to your old tricks, well, let's just say, before you even sniff out your first victim, you'll be pretty indistinguishable from, oh, what should we say?  Instant soup mix."

Spike rolled his eyes and with one last look at Willow, walked away.  That bloody Jonathan guy was more annoying than the slayer ever had been.  All knowing, all seeing.  He thought he was hot stuff.  And the fact that he was, rankled Spike more than anything.

Inside his crypt, Spike tossed his duster over the broken chair, got out the pile of papers Willow had left him, and sat down to read.  First thing he saw was: Jonathan's World.  He snorted and read on.

A few minutes later, he laughed aloud.  He'd known it.  It was a spell.  And a demon was out there with all the geek boy's powers.  This could be fun.  Now that he knew, it was rather obvious.  Nobody was that good at everything, and this Jonathan guy was just a geek with delusions of grandeur.  Waiting to be taken down a peg or two.

Spike hid the papers back in the stone behind the wall, and lit a cigarette.  Willow's notes were highly detailed, telling him pretty much where she was at all times when things went wrong, and the rest of the gang as well.  He didn't care about the others.  Just her.

She was at the witch's dorm by now.  His jaw tightened.  She spent all her spare time there, even stayed the night sometimes.  She was growing closer and closer to the witch every day, and he hated it.  Jealousy and envy were two emotions he'd never wanted to know intimately again.  And yet, here he was dancing with them as if they were old friends.

He had two options.  Leave Willow and Tara alone and let their relationship develop, or destroy it.  At first he'd decided to leave them alone.  He was confident enough to believe that she'd come to him once he got to her time period.  But as time went by, it was becoming more and more difficult to do so.  He wanted her.  She was his.  That blonde witch didn't deserve her.  She was going to betray them.  Almost get them all killed.

Bloody hell, why was he even considering leaving Willow to Tara?  Since when had he become a selfless martyr?  He wanted something, he usually went after it.  So what was different now?

Not a bloody thing.

Besides, how could he avoid falling in love with the slayer if he didn't have someone else to focus on?

With that decided, Spike sat back and waited, an idea forming in his mind.  He knew everything that was going to happen, thanks to Willow.  He could play the hero.  Get on everyone's good side.  Get Willow on his side.  Away from Tara.  He grinned in anticipation.

~Part: 7~

(September 2001)

Willow was released from the hospital the day after Angel and his gang arrived.  She was relieved, and way beyond ready to go home by the time she signed the last paper and was wheeled out into the sun.  Tara drove her to her parent's house, and Willow sat happily ensconced on the couch while her parents fussed over her.  She cherished times like these, when Ira and Sheila actually paid attention to their daughter, because she knew they wouldn't last long.  Too soon they would feel the pull of business meetings and out of town trips again, and be on the next plane out.

Willow didn't mind too much anymore.  She was used to it.  She knew her parents loved her.  And she loved them.  They just led separate lives.

Later that night, after Tara had gone home, and her parents had gone to bed, Willow lay in her bed, wide awake.  She was thinking about Xander and Buffy, remembering all the good times they'd had... mostly having to do with vampires and demons in Buffy's case, but Willow wouldn't have given those times up for the world.

And Xander.  She'd known him all her life.  Been best friends since forever.  Loved him longer than not.  And now he was gone, and she had an aching hole in her where he used to be.  She wouldn't get to see his handsome face ever again except in pictures, never hear his voice as he told one of his terrible jokes.  Never see that smile he had just for her.

She felt tears soaking her cheeks again, and wiped angrily at them.  She was sick and tired of the tears and the sobbing, she didn't want to do it anymore.  She wanted the pain to go away.  Her eyes darted over to one of her spell books and she threw the blanket back, climbing out of bed.

When she went to bed, the night was warm, so she'd only dressed in a tank top and baggy shorts, but it was a bit chillier now, so she threw her robe on, and tied it.

Her desk lamp hummed quietly when she turned it on.  The sound was comforting, familiar.  She sat cross legged in the middle of her bed and flipped through the spell book, looking for a healing spell.

A sound from her glass door drew her attention a few minutes later.  She tossed the book aside, grabbed the cross from under her pillow and peered into the darkness.  The light from her desk lamp prevented her from seeing anything, so she got up and moved cautiously toward the door, holding the cross out in front of her.  She turned off the light as she passed it and stood still, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness.

She heard a familiar dry chuckle from the other side of the door, but she didn't lower the cross.  She moved closer, still holding it out in front of her.

"Willow," Spike said quietly.  "You want to get that thing out of my face?"

"No," she immediately answered.  How was she to know if this was the real Spike or not?  Fake Spike could have wised up and changed his clothes.  She peered closely into his eyes, but she couldn't tell.  He looked like her Spike, but so had Fake Spike.  She bit her lip in frustration, unsure what to do.

"It's me, Willow."  He certainly sounded as exasperated as Spike could get.

But still... did that mean anything?  The shapeshifter didn't need an invitation, it'd proved that the night it killed Giles, so why was she bothering with the cross?  "All right.  Okay, um, I really hope you're you."  She lowered the cross, standing aside to let him in.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the railing, shrugging.  A small smile played over his lips.  "I'm fine out here."  He gazed up at the moon, and inhaled deeply before returning his eyes to hers.  "What kind of spell are you doing?"

She sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall, pulling her legs up to her chest.  "How'd you know I was--"

He nodded to the book on her bed.  "Pretty obvious."

"Oh.  Yeah, I guess.  Um, just a small spell.  Nothing huge. Nothing life altering.  Just a little thing really."

His voice was teasing when he spoke.  "None of your spells are ever small, pet."  He straightened up, his voice turning serious. "I just came to see if you were all right.  Not passed out on the floor again or something."

She laughed quietly.  "I'm fine.  I've actually had no urges to faint.  At least not since my mom told me she was bringing me dinner in bed.  She's a huge believer in self sufficiency and doesn't tend to coddle, hence my incredulity."

They were both quiet for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts and memories.  Willow was watching him surreptitiously.  Since waking in the hospital, she'd found herself watching him a lot.  Her trip to the past may have been just a dream, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was real.  She'd seen Spike naked, she knew every inch of his body.  In the dream, or whatever it was, she'd watched him while he slept.  She'd studied him, memorizing every detail.

But it couldn't have been real.  The past was just as she remembered it.  Nothing had changed.  Her friends were still dead.  Spike didn't remember their night together.  It had to have been a dream.

A sudden thought struck her.  She'd seen him naked.  She knew what he looked like naked.  If it was just a dream, then he wouldn't have a small scar on his right thigh.  Or a long jagged one on his abdomen.

She stood up quickly, and opened the door.  "Come in."

He hesitated a second before stepping inside.  It was the first time he'd been in her bedroom.  She should've felt awkward and nervous, but excitement was winning out.  In a minute, if he co-operated, she'd prove once and for all if her trip to the past was real, or just a dream.

Now, how to go about asking him without telling him anything?  As tempting as it was, she wouldn't ask him to strip.  She hid a grin at the thought and sat down on her bed.

Spike looked around her room, examining the girly things with amusement.  She hardly noticed him picking up her things and smirking over them before putting them back.  She was too busy trying to figure out the best way to go about this.  Finally, she decided to just ask him straight out.

"Spike?"

He turned from his perusal of a stuffed bear and faced her.  "Yeah?"

"Um, I need to ask you something, and it may seem strange, but really, it's not.  I'm sane, I just had this... thing, happen, o-- or not happen, which is why I need to ask you this question.  You know, to figure out if it really happened or not."

He nodded his consent, turning back to her stuffed animals.  She was glad he was used to her rambling by now.  He picked up another stuffed animal, this one a wolf that Oz had given her.

"Okay."  She took a deep breath and dove in.  "Do you have a small scar on your right thigh?"  She winced, waiting for his reaction.  She didn't know why, but she expected laughter and mocking.  What she got was anger.

"How did you know about that?" he ground out.  His suddenly cold eyes fell on her spell book and he ripped the head off of her poor stuffed wolf.  "What the hell are you trying to do to me this time?"  He dropped the wolf and stomped over to the book.

She jumped out of his way just in time.  "No, the spell was for me.  This is something completely different, not having to do with a spell.  I, um... " she quickly weighed her options and went with a safe answer.  "I dreamed it."

His snort told her how much he believed her.  He continued to flip through the book, searching for a spell she could use against him.  "Sure you did, Willow."

"Really," she assured him.  "I did.  I... sort of did."

He raised a scornful eyebrow at her.  "Lying is not your strong suit."

She threw her arms up in defeat.  "All right, fine.  I didn't dream it.  You want the truth?"

He nodded curtly.

"Great.  After I passed out, on the way to the hospital, I went back in time."

He stared at her for a full minute before shaking his head disdainfully.  "Try again.  That's worse than the dream one."

She cast a look at her bedroom door, half expecting her parents to come barreling through the door with stern glances and shaking fingers.

She was getting angry now at his cavalier attitude.  She glared at him and poked her finger into his chest.  "Don't believe me, buster?"

He shook his head again.

"You also have a long scar... " she traced her finger along his abdomen, "right here."

His eyes bore into hers once again as he yanked her hand away from his stomach.  "Okay, so you know I have a few scars.  How does that prove you went back in time?"

She wondered at his anger.  Why would her knowing about his scars make him so angry?

"That in itself doesn't prove anything to you.  But it does to me.  See, since I woke up in the hospital I've tried to convince myself it was a dream, but it was too real."

He snapped his fingers in realization.  "You visited me in my crypt.  Right after I was chipped."

Hope surged through her and she took a step closer to him.  "You remember now?"

"What?" he asked, his confusion evident.  "No.  You asked me that when you woke up."

Disappointment flooded through her, but she managed to keep most of it hidden.  "Oh.  I don't get it then.  How could you not remember?  I was there.  It was when Faith switched bodies with Buffy.  I saw you two talking in the Bronze."  His eyes narrowed dangerously, and she stepped back with a gulp.  "I told you it was Faith, that it wasn't really Buffy... you, of course, don't remember me telling you."  She sighed heavily.  "Everything is so screwed up."

"You went back in time... what?  A year?"

"A year and a half," she corrected, "but yeah."

"What'd you do while you were back there?"  His hand rubbed absently at his abdomen.  "Or maybe I should ask what we did," he smirked.  "Seeing as how you know all my most intimate secrets.  Once again I feel all violated by you, Willow."

His rich laughter rang throughout the room, warming her.  A blush crept up her cheeks.

Admitting to having sex with him without him remembering it would make it sort of awkward, so she lied.  "We didn't do anything.  Nothing.  You, um, you just... oh, you told me about them."

"You're still a terrible liar."  All teasing was gone now, his voice was serious, almost wary.  "What did I do?"

"Do?" she asked, confusion lacing her words.  "What do you mean?  You didn't *do* anything."

"No?  I remember what I was like then.  I hated all of you.   Blamed all of you for the implant.  And when you did that spell, you were at the top of my hit list.  If I hadn't had the chip, you'd definitely be dead now."

She was shaking her head in denial.  "No, that's not true.  I was there, you didn't-- well, not that you could.  But... you wanted to kill me that bad?"  Her lower lip trembled.  "Then why did you... "

He was watching her closely, trying to figure out what she wasn't saying.  Well, she wasn't going to tell him.  God, she'd slept with someone who wanted to kill her.  Could've killed her.  Her hand rose to her neck, rubbing his bite mark, the one that wasn't there.  Why hadn't he killed her?  He could have just drained her dry, drained her as she lay naked and trusting in his arms.

"Did we... did I--"

"No," she told him, and this time her lie came out sounding like the truth.  "No, we didn't.  You were drunk, and I helped you to bed.  Saw the scars then."  He would never know the truth.  Not from her lips.

He looked relieved.  "Good.  You know, if it means anything," he teased, "I don't want to kill you anymore."

Her smile was strained.  "Great.  You know, I'm tired.  So... "

He nodded, watching her closely.  "Are you sure I didn't do anything to you?" he probed.

"I'm sure.  I'll tell you what happened tomorrow, I'm just really sleepy right now."  She turned away from him.

"Right.  Tomorrow."  His tone was flat.  He knew she was holding something back, and he didn't like it.  He slipped outside, and jumped over the railing, landing with a soft thud on the grass.  Willow stood on the balcony, watching him until he disappeared before going back inside and locking the doors behind her.

She picked the spell book back up and quickly flipped through it.  She needed that spell more than ever now, otherwise she'd collapse into tears again.

She'd slept with a man-- vampire, that hated her, that wanted to kill her.  She shoved those thoughts aside and concentrated on finding the spell.

About to give up and write her own spell, she gave a surprised cheer when she found a suitable one in the back of the book.  An Emotion Control spell.  Perfect.

She got all the ingredients from her hidden stash in the closet, set the candles and lit them, cast her circle and did the spell.

(September 2001)

Spike spent a good two hours hunting the shape shifting demon, but it seemed no one knew it was there.  Or, if they did, they weren't talking to Spike about it.  Most demons were celebrating the death of the slayer, and didn't have time to talk to a traitor.  It didn't matter.  However long it took, Spike would find the demon, and kill it.

He climbed the trellis to Willow's balcony later that night to find her asleep in bed.  He quickly picked the lock on her door and slipped inside.  After her admission earlier, he'd started to worry about her.  It was obvious something had happened between the two of them, but she wasn't being forthcoming about it.  Remembering her nightmare in the hospital, he was afraid his past self had done something to hurt her in some way, but he didn't know what.  And if he was honest with himself, he was afraid to find out.

He quietly shut the door behind him, and looked around.  The spell book was on her desk, and everything was in it's place, even the stuffed wolf he'd ripped apart, but he knew she had cast a spell.  The smell of herbs and candle wax hung heavy in the air.

Great.  What was going to go wrong this time?  Something always did when it came to Willow and magick.  Especially when emotions were involved.  And she'd been upset when he left.

He looked down at her sleeping form.  She was curled up on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other hanging over the side of the bed, open and inviting.  He knelt down beside the bed and laced his fingers with hers.  His cold fingers were immediately warmed.  Their intertwined fingers held a certain fascination for him that he couldn't explain.  Last night, in the hospital, when she'd wrapped her hand around his, he'd found himself staring at her tiny hand nestled against his larger one, wondering if her small body would fit against his as well as her hand did.

He slipped her hand back under the sheet.  She sighed softly, her warm breath fanning across his cheek.  He brushed his fingers across her forehead, smoothing away the frown there.

He missed contact with other people.  He'd always hated being alone, but these days, it was worse than it had ever been.   And lately, he'd found himself wanting to touch Willow, hold her, kiss her.  Just to have contact with someone else.

That was all it was, wasn't it?

He still loved Buffy.  Didn't he?  Yes, he did.  But she was gone, and Willow was here.  She was all he had left and she was alone, hurt.  Beautiful.  She needed him.

She has Tara, he reminded himself.

Tara isn't what Willow needs, his irrational side tossed back, she needs me.

Inhaling her scent, he leaned down and pressed his lips lightly against hers.  She moaned in her sleep and whispered Tara's name.

Anger swept through him, and he jumped to his feet.  Where the hell did she get off dreaming about the witch?  She should be thinking about him.

Since when? he wondered.  And why was he thinking about her like that so suddenly?

His eyes fell on the spell book.  Maybe since she'd cast a spell?  He reached out to shake her awake, force her to tell him what she'd done, but halted his hand just above her shoulder.  Tomorrow.  He would ask her tomorrow, she needed to sleep tonight.

(February 2000)

Jonathan's world was a world that Spike didn't want to live in.  Everywhere he turned, he saw the boy's face, smirking, confident... annoying.  He'd bided his time, waited a whole day before taking action, and now it was time.  Time to play the hero and save the damsel in distress.

He stood around the corner from where it would happen, watching and waiting.  Couldn't rescue her too soon, he'd let her get tossed around a bit first.

Ten minutes later, the girl finally decided to show up for her beating.  He rolled his eyes, just like a woman to be late.  She walked past without seeing him.  She wouldn't have recognized him anyway, he'd never let her see him in the light when he stood outside her window.

Her heartbeat picked up and he peered around the corner, she turned her head just as he did, and he ducked back, feeling like a fool, hiding from a little girl.

He had to remind himself that he was doing this for Willow.

There was a loud crashing sound down the hall.  He stepped out to watch.  The double doors in front of her had crashed open and the demon was there.  It backhanded her, and she fell.  Then, it swiped at her again, and she was on her back, holding her hands up defensively.

Spike started to go to her rescue, being all manly and hero-y, but stopped as she started chanting desperately, scooting backwards.  He decided to wait and see what happened.

She held her arms out and some kind of smoke or powder sprung from her hands blinding the monster.  The demon chittered, waving the smoke away.  Tara got up and ran through a door, locking it.  The demon banged on the door a few times.

Spike decided that now was the time.  He snuck up behind the creature and hit it in the lower back.  It shrieked in surprise, spinning around to face him.  Spike punched it in the face and it went down.

Breaking the lock, Spike yanked the door open.  The witch was cowering inside, obviously in shock.  She had little scratches and cuts all over her, and he snickered at the frailty of humans.  He reached out, grabbed the girl, and hauled her into his arms.  She didn't protest, didn't even seem to notice.  He carried her to Willow's dorm room.  Willow would be there soon, all grateful and appreciative, and he'd be waiting.

The invitation Willow had called out to him when he tried to kill her a few months ago was still there.  Good thing, otherwise his plan would have failed.  He went inside, wondering why neither one of them had locked the door.

He laid the girl on the slayer's bed.  She curled up, shivering and whimpering.  He reached down and yanked the blankets out from underneath her and carelessly covered her up, then stood back, examining his work.  Not bad.  The witch was suitably pathetic looking, and he was ready to receive his adulation.

He sat down on Willow's bed and kicked off his boots.  It'd be a few minutes before Willow got home.  He stretched out on her bed and folded his hands behind his head, a contented smile turning up his lips.

(February 2000)

Spike was pulled roughly from slumber by a hand on his throat.  He opened his eyes to see the slayer's angry face above his.

"What did you do to her?" she demanded, a deadly glint in her eyes.

"What are you on about?"  He shook her hand off of his throat and sat up.  Willow was there.  He could smell her, hear her heartbeat.  He looked expectantly over at her.  Any minute now, Willow would be all grateful and appreciative.  She wasn't looking at him.  Her hand was busy smoothing Tara's hair away from her forehead, while her other hand held Tara's unresponsive one.

Buffy grabbed his jaw and turned his face back to hers, showing him the stake in her hand.  "I asked you a question.  What did you do to Tara?"

Spike batted the stake away from his face and stood up, a cocky grin touching his lips.  "Saved her," he said proudly.  His gaze fell on Willow.  She tossed him a quick glance before turning her attention back to the blonde.

Damn it.  Where was his appreciation?

"Yeah.  Right," Buffy snorted.  "And you expect us to believe this, why?"

"It's the truth.  Saw a demon headed this way, thought I'd take it out, you know?  Make the world safer and all that rot.  Found it in the hall, beating on Red's witchy friend here."

Buffy still looked unconvinced.  "Uh-huh."

He shot her an irritated glance and was about to reply when Willow interrupted him.

"I believe him.  I mean, if he did this, why would he wait here with her?  Why would she still be alive?  Why would he bring her here, I mean, he's not Angelus."  Both her and Buffy gasped at Willow's harsh words.  Willow rushed over to Buffy.  Pushing Spike out of the way, she grabbed Buffy's hand.  "I am *so* sorry, Buffy.  I didn't mean that the way it came out.  You know me, never thinking before speaking."

Spike snorted.  "Don't apologize.  It's the truth.  Angelus is a sadistic bastard."

"Shut up," both girls said as one.

Feeling extremely offended, Spike threw his hands in the air.  "Fine."

Buffy glared at him, then smiled at Willow.  "It's fine.  I'm not mad.  You just kinda took me by surprise.  You really believe him?" she asked dubiously.

"Hey.  Standing right here," he mumbled.

Willow ignored him.  She nodded at Buffy, a goofy smile on her face.  "First time for everything."

Spike's eyes shot to hers at her words.  He'd told his Willow that exact same thing when she told him that she and future Spike had never slept together.

Neither of the girls noticed his suddenly intense gaze settle on Willow, and for that he was grateful.  It wouldn't do to scare the girl, or alert the slayer.

Tara moaned pitifully from the bed, and Spike rolled his eyes as Willow and Buffy rushed over to her.  He was still waiting for a thank you, or something.

Willow sat on the bed, holding the witch's hand.  Buffy knelt beside them.  Tara's eyes opened, looking from Willow to Buffy.  As remembrance flooded through her, she looked around the room, looking for the creature.  Her eyes lit on Spike and widened.  He sneered at her, and she whimpered.  Willow looked accusingly at Spike, but he'd already covered the sneer with a bored look.  He shrugged at her, all innocence and charm.

"Tara, what did this?" Buffy asked gently, having missed the exchange.

"Big, lumpy," Tara told her.  "Had something on its-- on its head.  Like a Greek letter, only not."

Buffy grabbed a sheet of paper from her nightstand, and drew on it.  "This?  Was it this?"

Tara nodded.

Willow turned to the slayer.  "Buffy, Jonathan said we were all safe.  Jonathan said it," she stressed.

"Yeah.  Jonathan," Spike scoffed.  "Wanker's nothing but a fraud."

Buffy looked at him sharply.  "What do you know?" she asked.

"Me?  Nothing."  He knew plenty, but he wasn't about to help the slayer.  He would help Willow, but not the slayer.  Not while there was a chance that it might lead to... any sort of liking of her.

Buffy didn't look convinced, but she didn't ask anymore questions.

"So," Spike said expectantly.

"So?" Buffy asked.  "So, what?"

He frowned thunderously.  "Nothing."  His mood had been plummeting south since being woken up, and was somewhere around the south pole by now.  He clenched his jaw shut, not wanting to push the slayer over the edge.  Not without him able to defend himself.  "Thanks, Spike," he said in a loud voice.  Then in his normal voice.  "Gosh, think nothing of it, Red, I was happy to do it."

The three girls stared at him as if he'd gone mad, and Spike suddenly felt like he had.  Here he was, standing inside a girls' dorm room, not killing anyone, and fishing for a thank you.  He really hated his life.  He stomped to the door and left, slamming it shut behind him.

~Part: 8~

(September 2001)

Willow took a deep breath and knocked on the door of Spike's crypt.  She hadn't been here since she'd slept with him... which, technically was a year and a half ago, but to her was only two weeks ago.  She'd been practicing her story all day long, and had it all memorized.  As soon as the door swung open however, and she was faced with Spike's naked chest, she forgot her explanation.

He scowled down at her, and waved her in.  "'Bout time."

Willow kept her eyes on the floor as she pushed past him.  Naked Spike chest was bad.  Very bad.  Avoid looking at him.  Avoid looking at him.

She sat down in his armchair before remembering that it was broken, but was pleasantly surprised when it didn't fall.

"Last time I was here, this chair was busted.  And so was the TV, and the table was--"

"Never happened."  He grabbed his T-Shirt off his bed and pulled it on.

She felt safe looking at him again, and did so, in length.  Tight jeans, tight T-Shirt, narrowed eyes.

"But, it did.  How else would I know about your scars?  And, how would I know what the skanky ho said to you?"  Willow's hand flew to her mouth when she realized what she'd just said.  "Oh, um, oops.  I meant Faith.  Um, she and I never really got along, which I already mentioned."

He looked amused at her slip-up.  A small smile curled his lips, and he'd lost the angry look.  "So how did the chair get broken?"

"Um, okay, here's the thing."  She stood up and paced a bit, ready to tell her story.  She'd be fine as long as she didn't look at him.  "I passed out as you were carrying me to the hospital.  I woke up, sitting on Giles' couch, holding a book, and being scared to death by you.  You snuck up behind me and whispered, 'boo' in my ear.  Normally, I'd laugh and have a jolly time at my expense, but after having just seen Giles dead, I--"

"Freaked," he guessed.

"Freaked," she confirmed.  "Basically?  I accused you of killing him.  My thoughts were a little scrambled.  You were--"

"Pissed off," he hazarded.

"I was gonna go with, 'not so happy', but pissed off works too.  And stop finishing my sentences please, it's--"

"Annoying," he said with a grin.

"Very," she agreed, glaring at him.  "So then, after I realized what was happening, or what I thought was happening, I explained it to you.  Apologized and stuff.  Once I figured out that I was back in time, I jumped to a huge conclusion, but it felt right.  That I was there to fix things.  But, you, being of the skeptical nature, didn't believe me, so I had to give you proof."

"Proof?" he asked.  "What kind of proof?"

"Just some stuff I know about you now that I couldn't, or shouldn't have known about then."

"Such as?"

She sighed, trying to remember exactly what she'd told him.  "Such as Dru being your sire instead of Angelus."  Oh, and that other thing too.  A blush crept up her cheeks, and she looked everywhere but at him.  "And how you got that scar on your eyebrow and what happened afterwards," she finished in a rush.

A confused expression passed over his face.  "Afterwards?  Nothing happened afterwards.  I killed the Slayer, and-- Oh.  *That* afterwards."  He grinned at her, causing her blush to deepen.  "And just how did you know about that, love?"

"Buffy told me."  She frowned at him.  "She wasn't at all happy about that, you know.  I think you shared a little too much with her that night.  Which brings me around to why the chair was broken."

"Well?  Spill it."  He hopped up on his bed and lit a cigarette.

"I was being interfere-y.  I tried to warn you about something, and you weren't taking me seriously, and I had to tell you something that you didn't like.  You got angry.  So, weather's been pretty nice lately, huh?"

Laughter rang throughout the crypt and she shivered.  God, his voice was sexy.  She was responding to it--to him--more than she liked.  Remembering that he could hear her heartbeat, she forced herself to think about something other than Spike.  Naked Spike.  Bad.  Uh, demons.  Ugly, mean, scaly demons.  Frogs.  Spiders.  Okay, that did it.  All better now.

"You can tell me, you know.  I won't get mad.  Not like... uh, *I* did.  Past me."  He was watching her closely through narrowed eyes as a swirl of smoke floated lazily around him.

She had already decided to tell him the truth if he asked about this part.  It was just their sleeping together that she refused to tell him.  "I told you to stick to the facts when you told Buffy how you killed those two slayers."

Spike sighed, but didn't look away.  "She told you about that too?  The alley?"

Willow nodded unhappily.

"No harm done."  He hopped off the coffin suddenly.  "Let's take a walk," he said.

"Um... okay," she agreed.  Confusion shot through her, but she decided that now was not the time to analyze his feelings.  She stood and went with him out into the bright moonlit cemetery.  They walked quietly among the headstones for a few minutes, with Willow weaving herself in and out of a row of markers, waiting for him to talk.  When he didn't, she stopped and faced him.

"So you're not mad?" she asked curiously.

"Mad?  No.  Just wondering if you ever cast that spell last night."

"Um, yeah.  I did.  It wasn't anything to do with you, you know.  I wouldn't purposely do a spell on someone else without their permission."  She'd certainly learned her lesson with the de-lusting spell she'd been attempting to do on her and Xander when Spike decided to show up and ruin things.  She thought it was karmic justice on her for almost having interfered with the natural order of things.

"What about--"

"Purposely," she stressed.  "Anyway, the spell I did last night was just to get my emotions under control.  No more bawling like a baby."

He tossed her a look.  "So... what, no more pain?  Is that it?  They're dead, and you get to not feel?"

"Pretty much, yeah."  She nodded.  "I can't stand to--"

"Hey," a voice said from behind them.  "Gonna share?"

Willow spun around, automatically reaching for the stake she kept in her bag... which was still in the crypt.  She inched closer to Spike, knowing he always carried a stake in his duster... which he didn't have on.  Uh-oh.

Spike pushed Willow firmly behind him and stepped forward.  "No, I'm not," he told the vampire.  The vamp just stood there, licking his lips, staring at Willow.  She backed up a few steps, wanting to be as far away from the greasy vamp as possible.

"Come on, man.  Just a taste."  Greasy jumped forward, trying to grab her, but Spike's fist in his face stopped him.  Greasy's head snapped back, and he grabbed his bleeding nose.  "Dude, you broke my nose," he yelled.

Spike's voice was steely.  "I don't share."  He seized the vamp's head and twisted, breaking his neck, and dropping him to the ground in a heap.

Willow heard the sickening crunch of the vampire's spine as it broke, and fought back the bile threatening to rise in her throat.  She searched around for a broken branch or something made of wood.  A vase of dried out Forsythia flowers decorated a gravestone a few feet away and she snatched one.  She dropped to her knees beside the vamp and staked him, putting him out of his soon to be misery.  The vamp and the Forsythia turned to dust under her hands, but she remained there a few seconds.  She couldn't look at Spike right now, she was sickened by what he'd just done.  After what had happened to him, after being forced to sit in a wheelchair for months, how on earth could he do the same thing to someone else?

She felt his hands on her arms and she jerked away from him, climbing to her feet.  He dropped his hands to his sides, and nodded curtly.  "Right."

He was angry?  What did he have to be angry about?  Should she be thanking him?  Well, sure he'd saved her life, but he'd also enjoyed it.  And intended to leave the vampire there with it's neck broken.  Unable to move, the guy would've greeted the day and burst into flames after a night filled with pain, and helplessness.

"Wow," she said sarcastically, "you in the past weren't kidding when you said you enjoyed violence."

"Wasn't going to leave him like that, Willow.  I had to disable him while I went back to get a stake.  Or would you rather I let him have you while I went back?"

She studied him to see if he was telling the truth or not.  He seemed sincere, but he was a demon, which she kept forgetting.  Remember, she told herself, he'd just as soon kill you as sleep with you.  At least the past him would, this one didn't want to do either.

"Sorry."

He shrugged, and grabbed her arm, heading back toward his crypt.  "Don't be.  I'm a demon, what else should you have thought?"

"That you're a nice--" she caught his sideways look, and amended her choice of words, "uh, still evil demon who chooses to use his powers for good?"

He snorted in amusement.  "Is that what I'm doing?"

"Yup."  She pulled her arm from his hand, stood with her hands on her hips, superhero style, and boomed out in a deep voice.  "When evil's afoot, it's... Vanilla Chip to the rescue."

He laughed at her display and ruffled her hair.  "And you're my trusty sidekick... Witchy Woman?"

She curled her lip at the name in mock disgust.  "I want a name with oomph.  Pizzazz.  Something like... "

"How about Red Robin?"  He lifted a lock of her hair.

"Eh."

He rolled his eyes and messed up her hair, before darting out of the way of her slapping hand.

They were in front of his crypt now, and she followed him inside.  "You know," she told him, "it's only fair that I get to retaliate in kind."

He patted his hair like a preening school girl.  "Don't think so, Red."

"Oh, come on," she pleaded, "it looks tons sexier when it's all messed up and--"  Her eyes flew to his, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't heard her, but of course he had.

His gaze was intense, practically burning through her, and all she could do was stand there and let it.  "And... " he moved closer, searching her face, her eyes, for an answer.  "How would you know that, love?"

Her knees went weak when she heard the huskiness of his voice.  His voice, which had never affected her before her time travel experience, seemed to constantly make her knees weak now, and send shivers down her spine.  She licked her suddenly dry lips and forced air into her lungs.  "I told you, you were drunk.  I helped you--"

"To bed.  Yeah, I remember what you *said*."  He almost sounded angry.  At her?  Why?  Had he guessed that he'd slept with her and hated her for it now?

"It's the truth," she defended, trying not to let the hurt show.  And it was the truth.  She had helped him to bed... sorta.  And he had been drunk.  She'd just left out the part where they had sex.

"If you say so, pet."

His voice told her he didn't believe her, but he didn't pursue it, for which she was extremely grateful.

"I do."

"Good."  He picked up his duster and swung it on.

"Good," she repeated weakly.  "Great."

"Come on, I'll take you home."  Once again, they walked quietly along.  When they were almost in front of her house, he broke the silence.  "That spell you did--"

"Isn't a big deal, I already told you that."  She hugged her arms around herself.  "I was just tired of the pain and the emptiness.  It doesn't stop, it just keeps coming, and I don't want to be like that anymore.  I can't find the demon and kill it if I'm an emotional wreck."

"You're not going after it anyway.  You leave the bastard to me," Spike warned her, his tone brooking no argument.

Deciding against arguing with him now, Willow simply shrugged in agreement.  "It wouldn't be so bad if it were just one of them, but it's not.  They're all dead.  Everyone I ever cared about, except you."

"What about Tara?  She's alive... as much as she's ever been anyway."  He nudged her lightly, pushing her a few feet away.

Willow didn't take the bait.  "Why do you hate her so much, Spike?"  It was something she'd always wondered about, but never had the courage to ask, knowing she might not like the answer.

Spike looked straight ahead, squinting into the darkness as he considered her question.  He finally sighed heavily, and shrugged.  "Not really sure, pet.  Something about her just... puts me off.  So... how's Peaches?  Did he give you hell after I left?"

Allowing the change of subject, Willow laughed at the thought of Angel getting angry with her.  Frustrated, yes.  Angry?  Not that he'd ever show.  "Nope.  But I gave him hell."

He raised a skeptical brow to her.  "You, Willow?  I can't see you giving anybody hell."

"Well, I didn't actually give him hell... but I wanted to. Does that count?  'Cause, he deserved it.  They all did, for ignoring you like that.  It was very rude."

He chuckled, and elbowed her lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.  "On my behalf even?  Wow, I'm touched.  Really."  Then his voice turned serious.  "I don't care what they think, Willow.  Never much cared what others thought period, but Angel's opinion counts less than the drunk guy at the end of the bar at Willy's."

"That much?" she teased.

"Yeah, that much.  I never liked Angel.  Angelus either for that matter.  They're both wankers.  We tolerated each other for Dru's sake, and he taught me what I needed to know to survive, but that's about it.  Believe me, he's no angel."

"You're no gem yourself, Spike," Angel said from behind them.  Willow and Spike spun around in the middle of the street, facing the dark haired vampire.  Angel's brown eyes found Willow's.

Willow shrunk back a little at the anger she saw there.  Apparently she'd been wrong, Angel would show her his anger.  For the second time that night, Spike pushed her behind him in an attempt to protect her, and as much as she wanted to go, 'aww' she didn't want to watch him and Angel play the testosterone game.  Especially since Angel seemed to think Spike's gesture was hostile.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Could be Angelus," he hissed back.

Willow rolled her eyes and sighed in impatience.  "That's not Angelus.  That's plain old Angel."  She saw Angel's eyes flicker to hers briefly, and called over, "Sorry," as she stepped out from behind Spike.  She moved between the two vampires, looking from one angry visage to the other, unsure how to break their standoff.

Angel sighed in exasperation, tossed Spike a glare, strode over to where she stood and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out of earshot of Spike.  Guess that took care of the standoff.

"Willow," he said, then did the weirdest thing.  He chuckled.  Actually chuckled.  She stared at him, suddenly nervous.  Uh-oh.  Angel didn't chuckle.  Angelus did.

She worked her arm free, and sidled away from him.  "Um.  Yeah?"

He looked perplexed, but shook it off.  "You, uh... you do remember Spike's evil, right?  A cold-blooded killer?"

She nodded.  "Yeah, the killer part is true, he kills demons and vampires nightly.  But the evil part?  Um, no.  Not anymore. I mean, yeah, if he could kill humans, he probably would.  But he can't."

"All that's stopping him is a piece of... plastic or metal or whatever.  Buffy trusted him?  Giles trusted him?"

Willow's temper flared at the vampire in front of her.  "You weren't here.  You have no idea what's been going on, or anything about anything.  Yes, Buffy trusted him, and Giles, and Dawn and Mrs. Summers, and--" she threw her arm out, gesturing to Spike, who was standing in the middle of the street watching them closely, but keeping his distance.  "He's been a friend for a while.  Not the killing kind, but the being nice kind.  So, you know what?  Don't come here after two years and tell me anything.  No, he doesn't have a soul, but he's also never tortured my friends."  She added this last part spitefully, and regretted it instantly, but she didn't apologize.

Angel stared down at her, guilt warring with his anger.  Guilt won out.  "You're right.  I don't know what's been happening here.  But I do know Spike.  He'll always be a killer, always enjoy it, and always look out only for himself.  Himself and Drusilla."  He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.  "I'm just trying to look out for you.  With Buffy and Giles gone... "  He looked away for a second.  "There's no one to look after you."

"I can look after myself, Angel.  I'm not a child."  Her voice was gentle, trying to take away the harshness of her previous words.

"We're going back to L.A. tomorrow night.  I want you to come with us."  He threw a look at Spike, who flipped him off.  Angel turned his back on Spike and cleared his throat.  "Cordelia said you can stay with her.  I've got a huge hotel with lots of rooms to choose from, if you don't want to stay with Cordy."

Willow gave him a genuine smile, thinking about it for all of two seconds.  "I can't.  My life is here, I have Tara and my parents, school.  And Spike."  She also hadn't given up hope on Past Spike.  Maybe the changes just hadn't taken effect yet... for some unknown reason.  Spike grinned at her and she realized that he could hear their conversation.  "I'm fine.  Really.  Thank Cordelia for me though?"

"Sure."  He lowered his voice slightly.  "Willow, this demon that killed them... are you positive it wasn't Spike?"

She nodded emphatically.  "Yes, I'm sure.  Spike couldn't have done this."  She knew he hadn't done it, she just hoped she was right about him not wanting to do it.  She knew he wouldn't have hurt Buffy, but she wasn't sure about the rest of them.  Herself included.

She looked at Spike.  He was watching her intently.  Probably warning her not to mention his feelings for Buffy.  She brought her attention back to Angel and found him studying her.

"What?"

He didn't answer, just looked from her to Spike.  She fidgeted slightly under his perusal, but managed not to blurt out every secret she'd ever been told.  "What aren't you telling me?" he finally asked.

"Nothing.  I'm not telling you anything... I mean, I'm not *not* telling you anything.  Ugh.  You know what I mean."  He grabbed her elbow and steered her to the sidewalk as a car cruised past.

He chuckled.  Again.  Her eyes widened, and she moved away from him again.  Spike joined them, shooting Angel a glare.  Willow moved closer to Spike, not quite sure anymore if Angel truly was Angel.  She'd never heard him laugh.  And tonight, she'd heard it twice.  What was going on here?

He sighed heavily, glaring at Spike.  His brooding look returned and she felt a little safer.  She put her hand on his arm gently.  "Are you all right?  You, um, you seem a little--"

"Angelus-like?" Spike interrupted.  "Where's the Brood Boy we all know and hate?"  Willow elbowed Spike, hard.  "Oomph!  Hey.  That hurt, Witch."

Willow snorted rudely.  "Duh.  It was supposed to."  Angel was watching them again.  "See?" she pointed to Spike.  "He's not going to kill me.  He's all safe and stuff."

Angel finally seemed to accept it.  "If you need anything... give me a call.  And you," he pinned Spike with a glare.

Boy there was a lot of glaring going around tonight, she thought.

"She gets hurt?  You get dead."  Angel turned, and strode away, his black coat billowing out behind him.

Spike snorted in disgust.  "Damn poofter.  Always gotta be so dramatic."  He grabbed her arm and pulled her along.

Willow glanced over her shoulder as Spike's duster billowed out behind him.

(September 2001)

Spike stalked through the cemetery, hunting for the shapeshifter, and staking any vampires he came across.  At first, he'd hesitated at taking on the slayer's job, but then he'd realized that it was necessary.  The demons all knew she was gone, and the town was essentially slayer-less for the time being.  That didn't bode well for the town, and since Spike was *in* the town, he took up the slack left behind by Buffy's death.

Spike was still considered a traitor in the demon world, and no one was talking to him, so information was coming a little too slowly for his liking.

A sound to his left had him walking in that direction, stake in hand, ready to strike.

"So, it's true," Angel said in amazement.  "I didn't believe it when Willow told me... but, here you are."

Spike dropped his hand and turned away in disinterest.  "Oh, it's you."

Angel's hand clamped painfully onto Spike's shoulder.  "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss me, Spike.  I may have a soul, but I'm still a vampire, and considering the last time I saw you, your little friend was torturing me with hot pokers... well, let's just say the demon's looking for a little revenge and you're giving me every excuse to let him take it."

Spike shrugged off Angel's hand.  "Yeah?  Well, why don't you go flog yourself a few thousand times, beat it into submission?  And then you can sod off.  I've got a job to do."

"Nah, I've pretty much done that."  Angel moved directly in front of Spike, forcing the younger vampire to stop.  His dark eyes glittered dangerously as he stared at Spike.  "What are you doing, Spike?  This isn't you.  The big hero type?  That's for people who don't need the attention and glory it brings.  Also, it's for people who aren't evil blood-sucking creatures without souls.  You fit into neither of those categories."

Spike tapped his stake against his thigh.  Angel was right, this wasn't a Spike type gig.  So why was he doing it?  Why did he feel obligated to carry on the work of the woman he loved?  To protect the woman who had survived?
Simple.  Spike had changed, and Angel didn't know him any longer.  Never really had, actually.  Twenty years of killing and maiming together didn't make Angel an expert on Spike.

"Believe what you want, Angel, you always do.  Always got those big, lofty opinions in that gelled head of yours, and according to you, they're always right.  You're always right.  Been that way since I've known you, and I don't expect you'll be changing any time soon."  He stepped around Angel, knocking him aside as he went.  "Buffy was the same way.  You two were well suited."  He'd meant to keep the jealousy and bitterness out of his voice, but hadn't even come close to succeeding.
Angel swung him around and punched him in the jaw.  "Buffy is off limits to you," he said furiously.

"Yeah, what else is new?" Spike mumbled, rubbing his jaw.

"You don't get to talk about her--" Spike's fist to his gut cut him off.

"You've got no claim on her anymore, so just go back to hell where you belong, you bloody bastard."  Spike shoved past him again and stalked out of the cemetery, a little surprised that Angel let him go.

After patrolling two more cemeteries, Spike decided to head home.  On his way, he finally saw it.  Saw himself actually.  It was walking across the street ahead of him, moving through the darkened streets with no purpose, no destination.  When it headed into the sewers, Spike followed it.

(February 2000)

Spike was in a foul mood.  After his generous rescue of Tara, he'd gotten no recognition from Willow.  No kiss, no hug.  No anything whatsoever.  Just a simple thank you.  So, he'd decided to step up his seduction of her.  But so far, things hadn't gone as planned.

Willow spent less and less time at the watchers apartment these days, and more and more time at the witch's dorm.  The two witches were together nearly every waking moment, and it was impossible for Spike to get Willow alone.  Let alone seduce her.

But tonight, tonight he was going to make a move.  A bold step.  Tonight, he was going to talk to her.  Well, more than talk if things went the way he planned.  He'd had a few bags of blood, a few beers, and was headed to the Bronze.  She wouldn't be there, but according to Willow's notes, he was going to meet Anya in the alley behind the club, and she would take him to a party that Willow was at.

He waited out in the alley, scaring the few people that went by.  Generally enjoying himself.

He'd been there for an hour when he heard his sixth victim coming down the alley.  This had better be Anya, because he was getting tired of waiting.  He prepared to scare whoever it was, hoping that, if it wasn't Anya, it was an old guy.  Maybe he'd have a heart attack, and Spike could drain him without the chip going off.  Fear was a wonderful thing.

Spike waited until the person rounded the corner, then leapt out, vampire face on, and growled.

The girl jumped back with a scream.

It was Anya.  Spike tossed her an annoyed glance for not being an old man with a heart condition.  "Oh, it's you," he said.

"Spike," she said petulantly, "What are you doing?  You made me yell really high."

"Hey.  Yeah, I did.  I scared you."  He grinned cockily, and walked up to her, getting right up in her face.  "Gimme money."

"I'm not paying you for scaring me," she told him, then had the audacity to push him away.  Stupid bint.

"You're not paying me.  I'm robbing you."

"Oh, well now that's just ludicrous.  You can't hurt me because you've got that chip in your brain.  Also, I like my money the way it is... when it's mine."  She started to walk by him.

He couldn't let that happen.  He growled and spun her around.

"Oh, now come on," she scoffed.  "You're not even bumpy anymore."

What?  He felt his forehead with his fingers, and sure enough, she was right.  "Oh.  I was just a minute ago.  Hang on."  He stood back a ways.  "Get me mad again."

Anya sighed.  "Does this really work?  Scaring people into giving you their money?"

"Yeah, it works.  Keeps me in blood and beers."  He grinned.  "Plus, you know, funny.  Watching the little humans quail."

"I'm beginning to understand why you're so friendless."

That one hit a little too close to home.  "Look who's talking!"  He raked his eyes over her scornfully.  "I don't see droopy boy on your arm.  Did he have better things to do?"

Anya crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow at him, not at all amused.

(February 2000)

Inside the Bronze, Spike and Anya sat on a couch, drinking beer, and basically looking pretty damn pathetic.  Anya had just finished telling him about her fight with Xander, and he was trying not to think about Willow, trying not to yell at Anya to hurry up and get around to mentioning the party.  He knew he was obsessing over Willow, it was something he did often.  Maybe too often.  But, he couldn't seem to help it.  When he wanted something, he didn't often stop until he was in possession of it.  Or her.  And he wanted Willow.

"Boy, I miss those powers," Anya said.

He stretched his arm along the back of the couch, relaxing.  "Yeah, tell me about it," he said.  After their conversation in the alley, they'd headed inside for a few beers and woe swapping.  He'd told her some things about Dru, and nothing about Willow.  Anya was, after all, friends with the slayer and her gang, she'd probably run straight to them and tattle.

"A year and a half ago," she was saying, "I could have eviscerated him with my thoughts.  Now I can barely hurt his feelings."  She sighed.  "Things used to be so much simpler."

Spike took a sip of his beer.  "You know... you take the killing for granted," he said wistfully.  Oh, sure, he could still kill demons and vampires, it just wasn't as fun and satisfying though.  Humans tasted better.

Anya nodded nostalgically.

"And then it's gone, and you're like, 'I wish I'd appreciated it more.'  Stopped and smelled the corpses, you know?"

"Yeah," she agreed.  "Now everything's complicated."

"It's a terrible thing, love is.  I've been there myself."  He paused, thinking about Dru.  The love of his life.  Non life.  Whatever.  And now this thing with Willow.  He had no luck when it came to women.  "It ended badly," he confided.

"Of course it did.  It always does.  Seen a thousand relationships.  First there's the love, and sex, and then there's nothing left but the vengeance.  That's how it works."

Spike smiled, and leaned in close to her as an idea formed.  "You and I... should just go do the vengeance.  Both of us!  You eviscerate Xander, and I'll stake Dru.  Like a project."  Yeah, kill the bitch.  She was the reason he was here.  The reason he was lusting after some little college girl.  With really awful clothes.

Anya looked tempted for all of a second.  "I don't know.  I just can't."  She sighed again.

Spike had known she wouldn't do it.  Not that he would have either.  He took his arm down.

"You can go do Dru though," she said encouragingly.

Spike nodded.  "Yeah.  I will."  He sat back.  "Maybe later."

(February 2000)

Spike walked into the party trying not to let his excitement show.  He couldn't see Willow yet, but then again, it wasn't for sure that she was even there yet.  Anya had finally gotten around to mentioning the party that Xander had invited her to about an hour after their conversation started.  He'd practically jumped up in his eagerness.

As soon as they went through the door, Spike spotted a familiar looking guy leaving.  "Hey, I know these guys from somewhere."

"Initiative soldiers, they live here.  Experiments happen in the lab under the house," she told him.

Spike stared at her.  Was she stupid?

"It's where they kept you, put in your chip.  Let's have fun!"

"What are you doing?  You brought me *here*?"  He couldn't believe she'd brought him here.  She had to be daft.  All those years must be catching up with her.  And, great, there was the moron.

"Anya?  What are you doing?"

Anya turned toward Xander, who looked extremely unhappy to see them.  He pointed at Spike.  "You brought *him* here?"

"That's what *I* said!  Only I hit the 'here' part."

Xander ignored him.  "Anya, this is crazy."  She crossed her arms and glared at her boyfriend.  Xander didn't seem at all fazed by her show of anger.  "We had a little fight.  It just means that we have to work our way through some stuff.  It doesn't mean that we rebound with the evil undead."

Spike glared at him, offended.

"And what have we been doing with him anyway?" Xander asked.

Spike grinned at the whelp.  "Oh, who's the puffedup manly man?  All splotchy and possessive."  He walked over to Xander, examining him.

"It's not very convincing, is it?" Anya asked.

"Yeah.  I see now what you said about him earlier."  He looked Xander up and down, not at all impressed.  "No follow through."

Xander was not amused.  He called out loudly, "Hey!  What a surprise!  Hostile Seventeen!"

Spike tried to shut him up, but he couldn't do any real damage without setting off the chip, which would probably attract more attention than Xander was.

Xander went on, enjoying himself.  "Can I get you a drink, Hostile Seventeen?"

Spike looked around anxiously to see if anyone had heard him, but most of the party goers were too drunk or too involved in their own little groups to pay Spike any attention.

"Xander, stop," Anya told him.

A couple of people walked in front of Spike suddenly, and he jumped back, his pride suffering greatly at his chicken-like behavior.  The guys all ignored him though, and he looked around.  Hmm.  Nobody was even glancing their way.

"Pfft!"  His confidence renewed, he decided it was time to find Willow.  "Well, may be some fun to be had in the lion's den after all.  You two keep scrapping.  I'll find the liquor."  He walked away, leaving them to their fight.

~~~*~~~

Spike sat down in a chair by a couple of beer kegs, and took a drink of his own beer.  So far there'd been no sign of Willow at all.  He knew she was here, he just couldn't figure out where.

A drunk guy across from him kept staring at him and frowning, annoying Spike even more.

"Hey, buddy," the guy finally said.  "You look familiar."

"Yeah.  I get that a lot," Spike told him.

The guy kept frowning and looking at him, so, to avoid suspicion, Spike just sat there.

Bloody hell.

~~~*~~~

A few minutes later, the drunk guy gone, Spike resumed his search for Willow.  He finally spotted her on the stairs, looking up with a worried frown.  He weaved his way through the students, trying to get to her.  A crowd had gathered against one wall, and Spike pushed a few of the kids out of his way.  His hand brushed the wall and a feeling similar to desire and something else burned through him.  What the hell?  He held his hand against the wall for a few seconds, before yanking it back.

Son of a bitch.

He looked around him.  A few people were moaning in orgasmic delight, their hands on the wall, while the rest of the crowd cheered them on.  Didn't these people feel the undercurrent of evil?

Several of the people touching the wall shuddered orgasmically.

Apparently not.

By the time he made it to the stairs Willow was gone.  He took them two at a time, and headed down the hall a little ways.  He heard her talking to someone and stayed where he was, listening.

"Tara?  It's me."  She knocked on a door.  "Tara?"

Spike heard a door open, and peered around the corner.

"Tara?" she called again, before disappearing inside the room.  A minute later, he heard her scream.

She came out of the bathroom, looking scared to death.  He grabbed her and held her still, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms.  "What happened?" he asked.

She was shaking a bit, but her voice was steady.  "Ghost boy.  Drowning in a tub.  I-- I tried to save him, but, being a ghost already, well, I was way too late."

"You okay?"  As a pretense to protecting her, he pulled her closer to his side.  She felt so good.  All warm and soft and sweet smelling.  He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, twining his hand with hers to steer her toward the stairs.

"I'm okay.  Just, you know, scared to death."  She looked around the hallway.  "Tara ran up here a while ago.  I was looking for her.  She-- have you seen her?"

"No," Spike said curtly.  His hand tightened on hers when she mentioned Tara, bringing her attention to the fact that he was holding it.  She raised their clasped hands, staring at them.  She seemed to be as mesmerized by them as he'd been the night they'd slept together.

After a few seconds, she shook her head slightly, and looked around again.  He was pleasantly surprised when she didn't take her hand from his.  "She must be downstairs then."  She stopped at the balcony, searching through the people below.

Spike stood behind and slightly to the side of her, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and press her back against him.  To just hold her.  Kiss her again.  Taste her.  He took a step closer to her, and ran his hand through her hair.

She swung around, pulling her hand out of his and backing up slightly.  "What are you doing?"

Spike looked at her in confusion.  "What?  Why?  What'd I do?"  Uh-oh.

She smoothed her hair down with her hand and frowned.  "You... *touched* my hair."

He snorted and rolled his eyes.  When in doubt, lie.  "Well, yeah.  There was something in it."  He tried his best to look innocent and wronged, hoping she wouldn't ask what had been in her hair.  Think, man, think.

She shook her hair out as if it were crawling with snakes.  "What *thing* was in it?  It wasn't a tarantula, was it?  'Cause, I have issues.  Also?  Been there, done that."

Or spiders, he thought.

He shook his head reassuringly.  Think, damn it.  "No.  No spiders.  It was a, uh... "  Okay, haunted house... whatever was there, could conceivably have disappeared.  "Leaf."  He groaned inwardly at his lame excuse, and made a show of looking at the floor, searching for it.  "Must have disappeared.  I think this place is haunted.  Or something."

"A ghost leaf?"  She looked at the floor too, but, obviously found no leaves.  "Or something," she agreed, before resuming her search for Tara.

Spike glared at the crowd below.  Damn the blonde witch.  He needed to get Willow away from there.  Get her alone.  And he couldn't do that if Stutter Girl ran off, worrying her.  He needed Willow's complete focus and attention.  But, tonight wasn't the night.  Again.

In the meantime, he'd have to settle for accidental touching.  Maybe graduate to copping a cheap feel later.  He stood right next to her at the railing, pressing up against her arm and pretending to look for Tara.  She didn't pull away, he noticed.  A slow smile crept up his face.

Too soon, the moment was over.  "There's Xander.  Let's get him and get out of here."  She ran down the stairs and toward Xander.  Spike followed a little more slowly.  By the time he got there, Willow had just finished telling Xander about the ghost boy.  A group of kids beside them were playing spin the bottle and being generally loud and annoying.

"A ghost?" Xander was saying.

Spike stood next to her, hoping for another cheap feel.  She nodded at Xander, still looking around for Tara.

"What's the deal?  Is every frat on this campus haunted?  And if so, why do people keep coming to these parties, 'cause it's not the snacks."

Tara decided to show up finally.  She touched Willow's arm, as if Willow belonged to her.  Spike snarled at the girl, but none of them noticed.

"Tara, how are you?" Willow asked, all concern and caring.  Spike wanted to rip her out of the blonde's grasp and carry her to his crypt to make slow, passionate love to her.

"I'm okay, but... I-- I don't like it here.  This house... I-- I think we should go."

Spike rolled his eyes.  Good God, girl.  Spit it out.

Willow nodded in absolute agreement.  With Tara, not him, unfortunately.

Xander glanced over at the kids on the floor, as the laughter got louder.  The bottle was spinning faster and faster, then suddenly exploded.  People started yelling as broken glass flew all over the place.

"We need Buffy," Willow said.  She and Xander ran off.  Tara shot Spike a nervous glance, then followed them.  Spike grinned at the fleeing girl.  That's right, little girl, run, 'cause you're gonna be the first one I kill.

He sat down in the chair he'd been in earlier, not exactly relishing another run-in with the Slayer.  People were starting to panic, running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

He smiled.  "Well, this party's starting to liven up after all."  Suddenly, straps shot out of the chair's arms, wrapping around his chest, wrists, legs, and mouth.

"Mmph!"

Spike struggled hard, and managed to pull the restraints off himself.  He jumped up, about to go searching for Willow, when he spotted her and the others by the door.  He joined them and they all left the house.

Spike, Willow, Anya, and the witch stood outside the house, staring up at it.  Xander was trying to help some girl with a really bad haircut.  The girl ran off, and Xander joined them again as Spike lit a cigarette.

"We have to go back in there," Willow told them.  She was looking all worried and cute.  Spike once again moved to stand beside her.  Tara was the only one to notice how he always seemed to end up next to Willow, and Spike knew she suspected something.  Good.  Maybe now she'd just back off and leave Willow to him.

"Why?" Anya was asking, ever the voice of reason.

"Because Buffy and Riley are trapped," Xander explained.

"So?"  Willow and Tara looked surprised at the ex-demon's gall.  Spike grinned.  "She's the Slayer, he's a big soldier boy, what do they need you for?"

The moron was getting mad now, apparently having had enough of his girlfriend's selfishness.  "Anya, look around.  There's ghosts and shaking, and people are going all Felicity with their hair.  We're fresh out of super-people, and somebody's gotta go back in there."  He took a deep breath.  "Now who's with me?"

He was rather surprised to see Willow hesitate.  Tara, he'd expected to chicken out.  But not Willow.  It had been her idea after all, and she was always the first one to offer help when it was needed.

He'd have to break her of that.

Well, here was his chance.  Be the hero, save the Slayer and her boy toy, and hopefully get the girl.  "I am," he said.

Everyone turned to look at him, surprise evident on their faces.

"I know I'm not the first choice for heroics."  He dropped his cigarette and ground it under his boot.  "And Buffy's tried to kill me more than once.  And, I don't fancy a single one of you at all," he lied, his eyes flickering to Willow's.  "But... I'm in."  He saw Stutter Girl watching him and Willow, and smiled slyly.

Willow raised a curious eyebrow at him.  He shrugged in response, acting as if it were no big deal.  Now wasn't the time to tell her he was doing it for her, and only her.

"Xander, let's get out of here," Anya urged.

"You wanna bail, fine," Xander said, then pointed at the house.  "I'm going back in there, and I'm not coming out 'til I bring my friend with me."

Spike headed onto the porch with Xander, then stood watching as he opened the door and peeked inside.  Spike may be acting the hero, but he wasn't dumb.  He'd let Xander go first.  Xander disappeared inside, then suddenly flew backward, landing several yards down the path with a painful groan.

Spike twisted his grin into a frown for Willow's sake.  She and Anya looked pretty upset.

Xander was glaring at Spike.  "Or... it... could be Watcher time," he moaned.

"We'll-- we'll go to Giles'," Willow said.

Tara shook her head.  "No, no, wait, he-- he isn't there.  He was going to the Espresso Pump."  She smiled at Willow, and Spike had to once again resist the urge to kill her.

It was time to go, otherwise, implant or not, the blonde witch would be dead tonight.  "Okay, you let me know how it ends, huh?" he asked, his tone telling them how much he didn't care.  "Ta-ta."  He strode off into the night with one last look at Willow.  Soon, Red, his eyes promised.  He didn't miss Tara's widened eyes.

~Part: 9~

(October 2001)

Spike crawled further through the sewer tunnel, cursing silently when his hand squished in something unidentifiable.  He quickly wiped his hand on his pant leg and sat back on his heels, listening.  He was going to need one hell of a long, hot shower when he got out of here.  When he heard only silence, he peered around the tunnel entrance.  The demon he'd followed in here was kneeling in the middle of the tunnel, head bowed and arms folded in supplication.

Spike was sure that this was the demon that had killed Buffy and the others.  He was sure, because he was staring at himself, except for the color of his clothes.  An exact replica.  The demon's head suddenly turned toward him, and, as he watched, the demon shimmered and morphed into Drusilla.

Spike sucked in a breath and held it as the demon Dru stood up and moved in his direction.  A secret smile lit her face, and her long dark hair swayed as she approached him.  Spike stood up, staring at the vision of his first love.

Halfway to him, Dru halted for a second, regarding him curiously.  Then her hair lightened, turning blonde, and she morphed into Buffy.  He backed away, reminding himself that this wasn't Buffy, this was not the Slayer.  Not the girl he loved.  This was a demon.  The demon that had killed Buffy.

Spike was here to kill her.  It.  To kill it in retaliation for Buffy and Dawn.  Even Giles, Xander and Anya.  And for what it had done to Willow.

Yet, he made no move toward it.  In fact, he kept backing away from her.  Being faced with a smiling, inviting Buffy was almost more than he could take.  He wanted to go to her.  Hold her.  Touch her.  Do everything he'd never gotten to do.  Not to the real Buffy anyway.  But he didn't.  He backed away another step.

Once again, she halted, tilting her head to the side.  Her blue eyes blinked once.  Twice.  And then she was shimmering again.  Her hair shortened.  Turned red.  Willow.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, backing into the tunnel wall.  What the hell was with this thing?  Was it going to take on the form of every woman he'd ever known?  Who was next?  Joyce?  Darla?

When he opened his eyes again, Willow was standing right in front of him.  Just as Dru and Buffy had done, she smiled at him in invitation.  Then she pressed herself against him, and pulled his head down for a kiss.

That broke the spell.  If it had been Dru or Buffy who kissed him, Spike wouldn't have had a chance.  But this was Willow, and he didn't think of her like that.

Yeah, right, he scoffed.

Well, okay, she didn't think of him like that then.  There.  Explained away.

He slid a stake out of his duster pocket and pressed it against her chest.  She took a few steps back and stared at the stake.  Her smile turned into a sneer.  "You think that will kill me?" she asked in Willow's voice.

Spike shrugged.  "Bound to do some damage.  If it's not permanent, that only means I get to hurt you twice."

Big talk for a vampire cowering against the wall of a sewer tunnel, he thought.

Fake Willow laughed lightly at his bravado.  "I've set things in motion and you're trying to interfere.  Stay out of it."

"Why?  So you can kill more people?"  He took a step toward the shapeshifter and tossed his stake from hand to hand.  His smile was light, pleasant.  "What are you doing?  Opening the Hellmouth?  Raising a demon who thinks he's the next coming of Elvis?"

Her eyes narrowed.  "Interfere, and this," she motioned to her form, "will die.  I don't think you want that."  She smirked at him and tapped his chest.  "You care for her.  Just as you cared for the other forms I took."

Spike snorted.  "Your psychic abilities tell you that?  'Cause if they did, I'd ask for a refund."  He swung the stake into his left hand, brought it up suddenly, and shoved it into Willow's chest.  She gasped in surprise, then waved her hand in the air in front of them.

The air shimmered, and suddenly Spike saw Willow.  The real Willow.  She was at her parent's house, kissing Tara goodbye.  Tara waved as she went down the walk.  Willow shut the door and took two steps into the living room before collapsing to her knees, her face a mask of pain.  She grabbed her chest, gasping for air.

Spike looked down at the Willow in front of him as she grabbed his hand with both of hers and pushed the stake further into her chest.  As she did, the real Willow screamed and fell forward, catching herself with one hand, before sliding forward and collapsing to the carpet, unconscious.

Spike hesitated.  He didn't know what to do.  Kill the demon and possibly Willow?  Or save Willow, leaving the demon alive?

He couldn't lose Willow too.  He couldn't be completely alone.

With a growl of frustration, Spike yanked the stake out of the demon and the image disappeared.  Her delighted laughter echoed through the tunnels as Spike ran back the way he'd first come.

"Hurry, vampire," Fake Willow taunted, still laughing.  "Hurry."

(????)

Willow woke up in Spike's crypt, laying on his bed.  He was nowhere in sight, but she heard his lighter snap shut and smelled cigarette smoke.  She smiled, remembering their night of lovemaking, and stretched contentedly, yawning.

"I dreamed I went back to my own time, and you didn't remember, um, you know.  Makes a girl self-conscious.  I didn't tell you anything, but, boy were you curious," she told him, rolling over.

He was standing a few feet away, the ever present cigarette in his mouth, leaning against the wall, watching her.  His face was blank, his eyes guarded.  "Was I?"

She frowned.  "What's wrong?"  A thought struck her suddenly and she sat up, looking down at herself.  She was fully clothed. Oh, God.  Her eyes flew to the unbroken chair, then slid shut.  Oh, God.

When she opened her eyes again, he was still there.  Still watching her.  Still smoking.  She pasted a grin on her face.  "Gotcha."

He pushed away from the wall and approached her slowly, shaking his head.  "Nice try, Willow."  He stood directly in front of her and dropped his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it.  Suddenly he grinned, and pulled her toward him, kissing her soundly on the mouth.  "Gotcha.  How'd you get back here, love?"

Willow was so surprised that her Spike had just kissed her, that she didn't even hear his question.  "Wh-- what?" she asked, pushing him away.  He was playing with her.  Had to be.  Acting like Spike from the past, trying to get her to tell him what had happened between them.  That's what this was.

"How'd you get back here?"  He kissed her again, chuckling.  "Bloody hell, pet, past you is a bit of a stick in the mud.  You won't even talk to me unless one of the others are around."  He pulled her up against him and held her.  She closed her eyes and sighed.  This felt good.

He was right, a year ago she'd avoided him at pretty much all costs.  He'd made her nervous.  Chipped or not, she had still been afraid of him.  And a bit attracted to him.  But this wasn't that Spike, and she wasn't back in time again.  The chair wasn't broken.  Did he really think she was that gullible?

He pulled back, looking at her expectantly, his smile slipping a bit when she stayed silent.  "What's wrong?"

She shook her head with a small smile.  "Nothing.  Well, except for you kissing me.  'Cause... um, why did you?"  Yeah, way to convince your Spike that had never happened before.

His jaw did that oh-so-sexy tightening thing, and she found herself having sudden breathing problems.

"What's the date?" he asked.

What was he up to?  "October, two thousand and one."

His grin was back.  "Then what's the problem?  Last I saw you, you were naked in my bed, now you're asking me why I kissed you?"

She gasped.  How had he guessed?  And 'til the end, she would deny it.  "I was never naked in your bed.  What are you talking about?"  She frowned at him in concern.  "Are you feeling all right?  Are you sick?"  Ugh, she hated to lie like this, but she couldn't lose him as a friend.  And surely she would lose him if he found out the truth.

He studied her for a moment, then shook his head angrily.  "Bloody hell!  I can't get a break, can I?"  He flung himself down in his chair and her eyes widened when it suddenly lurched forward, the front leg falling away.

Not stopping to examine why she was so happy to be back with the old Spike, Willow jumped down from his bed, ran over to him and stood there grinning.  She was tempted to jump into his lap, just to surprise him, but she wasn't quite that bold.  "You're you?  I mean, really you?  Oh, I guess it helps if I tell you which 'you' I mean.  Um, past you.  Year two thousand you."

He nodded guardedly, and pulled her onto his lap.  When she didn't resist, he kissed her, crushing her to him as if he never wanted to let her go.  "That'd be me," he whispered against her mouth, before kissing a path down her neck.

Her senses leapt to life with each touch of his lips on hers, and a tingle of excitement pulsed through her.  She didn't understand how or why he affected her this way, especially since her Spike--future Spike--didn't have this same affect on her.  To some degree, it was there, the magnetism between them, the desire, on her part.  But this raw want, and need?  It wasn't present in her Spike.

"Spike?" she breathed.  His lips were tracing a path down her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

"Yeah, love?"  His hands slid under her shirt.

"Spike."  She pushed his hands away and pulled back slightly.  "When is it?  The time now, I mean."

His hands dropped to her waist, holding her on his lap as she weakly tried to get up.  He sighed and made a show of rolling his eyes.  "Three weeks since you left.  Three weeks of hell.  The you that's here doesn't even like me," he pouted.

She giggled.  "You're such a drama queen."  His hands started their upward mobility again, and she halted them on her stomach.  "It's not that I didn't like you, it's just that... well, I was afraid of you.  And... in case you've never looked in a mirror... which, okay, duh, you haven't, but you're pretty much a hottie.  Which made me nervous, because good looking guys don't flock to me for any reason except to kill me or kidnap me."  She raised an eyebrow at him pointedly, and he managed to look ashamed.  "So I just stayed away."

"Yeah, I know about the fear, your heart starts racing every time I go near you.  But it's more than that."

Willow frowned.  "Maybe it's something you changed.  Oh, did you change anything?  'Cause, when I got back nothing was different."

He shifted slightly in the chair.  "Yeah.  I changed some stuff."

"Uh-oh.  What did you do?"  She groaned loudly.  She should have left the pages with someone else.  This was Spike, duh.  Selfish.  Could care less about any of them.  Future Spike had warned her that he had hated her back then.  Back now.  She was sitting on the lap of the vampire who hated her.  She tried to climb off him again, but he held her there.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and sighed contentedly.  She felt his lips on her hair.

"I didn't do anything bad," he mumbled.  "I just... well, okay, if you want to get technical, I didn't do much of anything.  Jonathan's world sucked by the way.  Why didn't the slayer kill him?"

Since he didn't seem to want to let her go any time soon, she relaxed and snuggled up against him.  "Let's start at the beginning then.  Did you help Buffy with the creature?"

"Not directly.  I saved your witch pal, though.  Without getting so much as a thank you from you, I'll add."

She sat up in surprise, smiling at him.  "Really?  You saved Tara from that thing?"  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.  "Thank you."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he grumbled good-naturedly.  He settled her back down in his arms, caressing her back.  "Didn't do a lot of good.  I got there too late, and only ended up rescuing her from a closet."

"Still, thank you," she said sincerely.  "What else did you do?"

"Saved you from the ghost in the bathroom."

"Oh," she giggled.  "That was weird, huh?  That whole lust thing that Buffy and Riley were generating."

"Is that what it was?  I was going to help save them, but--"

She sat up.  "Doesn't matter.  It all turned out okay.  The only important one, the only thing that absolutely has to be changed, is their deaths."

His arms tightened around her.  "So, you're all alone then?"

"No.  You're there.  And Tara.  Ow!  Spike, let go."  His arms squeezed her so tight she could barely breathe.  She pried his arms off of her and jumped to her feet.

He got to his feet as well, his eyes snapping with anger.  "You're still with Stutter Girl?  Why?"

"Don't call her that.  And I told you when I was here last time that I was with her.  I love her."

Spike snorted rudely.  "Yeah, right, you love her.  If you love her so much what were you doing on my lap just now?  With my hands up your shirt?  And how about the last time you were here.  Didn't see you protesting too hard when I was--"

"Shut up."  She already felt guilty enough about her actions, she didn't need him to remind her.  "It was a one time thing.  Definitely not gonna happen again.  Ever."

Spike stalked away from her, his boots crunching angrily on the stone floor.  "So letting a guy feel you up is okay, we just can't have sex, is that it?"

Willow glared at his back for a second before sighing, and taking a step toward him.  "No, it's not like that.  I love Tara, and in my time, I have her.  I don't have you because... he doesn't remember what you and I did, and he loves Buffy."

Spike turned back, frowning.  "Why doesn't he remember?"

Willow shrugged.  "I don't know, I don't get it either."

He fixed the chair leg and sat down, motioning for her to join him.  She knew she shouldn't.  She wasn't going to either.   But she did.  She went to him and let him pull her onto his lap again.  He cradled her face in his hands.  "If he did remember... would you still be with the witch?"

That was a question she hadn't even considered.  What would she do?  Was it even up to her?  Past her would probably make the choice for her.  "I don't know," she answered truthfully, sighing.  "I want you, that's something I can't hide from you.  But, future you doesn't seem to notice."

"He knows," Spike assured her.  "He'd have to be deaf, blind and dumb not to notice.  And I can guarantee he wants you too."

She sighed sadly.  "No, he doesn't."

"He does."  He pulled her down for a kiss, touching her lips softly, and whispering, "I do.  Now."  He shifted a bit in the chair and pulled away just enough for her to see the truth in his eyes.  He sat forward suddenly and moved her around so she was straddling him, then slid her hand down and pressed it against his erection.

Willow bit her lip.  She couldn't do this again.  Fighting the desire spreading through her, she looked away from him.  Hopefully she would fare better at turning him down this time.  She had a girlfriend.  She loved Tara.  Spike was just a friend.  A very attractive friend who was rubbing her hand against his erection.

"I can't," she whispered miserably.  Was she a hussy for wanting him so much?  Desire rushed through her just from seeing him, from hearing his voice... a look, a smile, a touch, and she wanted him so badly she was willing to throw away what she had with Tara.  Why couldn't she stop herself from wanting him?

He hates you, she told herself.

But her body wasn't listening.  He doesn't hate me, not anymore.  He can't.  Not if he wants me.  Right?

She looked up into his passion-filled face.  If he did, he was hiding it well.  Unlike her.  She couldn't hide her desire for him at all.

"You can," he insisted, sliding his hands inside her shirt again.  His thumbs brushed against the undersides of her breasts and she moaned.  Both hands moved down her legs to the edge of her skirt, making her shiver.  He pushed her skirt up to her waist, and slid his hands inside her panties.

She gasped sharply.  "I shouldn't."  One last weak attempt at halting things before they went too far.

He chuckled in her ear, knowing he had her.  Or would.  "You should."  His hands moved around her back and unhooked her bra.  Pushing the bra out of his way, he leaned forward, lifting her shirt, and ran his tongue along her nipple, teasing her before moving back down to her panties.  He ripped them in half and pulled them off of her.

"Oh, God, I am," she agreed.

Willow could feel his impatience, and it spurred her on as well.  She kissed him deeply, cradling his face in her hands.  His hands left her for a few seconds, then suddenly spanned her waist, lifting her up.  Her eyes flew open when she felt him sliding into her.

He sat back and waggled his eyebrows, grinning at her.  "Use me, baby.  Feel free to shag me to death... I can take it."

Willow groaned good-naturedly.  "Jokes?  Now?"

He grinned and looked up at the ceiling.  "Well?  I'm waiting here... you gonna shag me or not?"

Willow laughed softly.  "Yes, sir."

Not sure how to go about this without making a fool out of herself, Willow bit her lip, and dove in.  She raised up and slid back down slowly, her inner muscles clenching in response to the friction, and just the feeling of him inside of her.

Spike groaned, and grabbed her waist, but didn't move her.   He was giving her complete control.  Unusual thing for a vampire to give up, she thought.

But that didn't stop him from pulling her against him, and kissing her hungrily.  "Take it away," he whispered.

She lifted herself again, and sank back down, faster this time, feeling like she was melting.  Her hands moved around to his back, clawing the pale flesh.  He was so deep inside her that she felt like he was touching her soul.  Every movement, every sigh, every breath, drew him deeper, and she felt like he was devouring her.  Body and soul.  Mouth and heart.

Every inch of her was explored by his gentle hands.  She tried to return the favor, but it was hard to keep up a rhythm and explore him at the same time.  She was driving herself to the edge, trying to reach that pinnacle.  His mouth left hers to settle in the crook of her neck.  This time she knew what he was doing, and encouraged him with a hand to his head.  She ran her hands through his short blonde hair, reveling in the feel of Spike... just being able to touch him again after being denied him for so long.

He didn't bite her in the neck, as she'd expected him to do.  Instead, he lifted his head and grinned at her, then leaned her backwards, supporting her with his hands at her back, and leaned down to lick her left breast.  She gasped, arching against him, holding him there.  His teeth pierced the firm skin before sliding in unresisting.  Though he was taking her blood, which she should have found disgusting, Willow felt like he was giving her something when he did it.

Himself.

She tightened around him, wanting to bring him pleasure before she found her own, but he had other ideas.  He sucked at her blood, teasing the nipple of her breasts with his thumbs, and thrust his hips, sliding his length into her, and driving her over the edge.  She screamed his name, needing him to know that it was for him.  Only him.  She fell back limply, trusting him to catch her.

He continued to move inside her, and draw out her blood, but it was only a minute later that he drew her into him and went still, moaning her name as he came.

She stroked his back lazily, waiting for him to recover.  His chest rose and fell against hers in a parody of breathing.  It was weird to see and feel, coming as it did, from Spike, a vampire that didn't need to breathe, but it was comforting.

After a few minutes, she stood up, feeling the loss when he slid out of her, and straightened her skirt and blouse, re-hooking her bra.  He did up his jeans as she looked around for her panties.  When she didn't find them, she shrugged, and sat back down, curling up against him.

She laid her head on his bare chest and sighed contentedly.

Spike kissed her forehead softly, and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.  "Damn, I'm good," he said with a chuckle.

Willow hit him on the shoulder with a laugh.  "Cocky, aren't we?"

"Well... some of us are.  The rest just use it when they want it."  He pulled back and leered at her.

She snorted.  "Yep, you've discovered my secret.  I'm using you for your... um--"

"Bits?" he suggested, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to his bed, where he laid her down with a quick kiss.

"Bits.  Yep.  That's it."  She rolled over on her side, watching him.

She loved this.  Just talking and joking around with him... it always made her feel special.  Vampires had no time or patience for humans, especially Spike.  But, this past year, he had actually seemed to seek her out.  Probably, at first, because she was a connection to Buffy, but as time went on, they became friends.  And though she thought she'd left her need to be accepted back in high school, she knew, when Spike finally did accept her, that it had been there all along.  Everyone had a need for acceptance, and it wasn't something that went away once you left your childhood behind.

Spike lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, watching her.  Her eyes fell on the scar on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans, and she remembered her Spike's reaction to her knowing about it.  Not quite ready to tackle the big one, she asked him about the round, dime-sized scar on his thigh.

"Knitting needle," he said with a shrug.

That was one of the last things she'd expected to hear him say.  She sat up, sitting cross-legged.  "Someone stabbed you with a... knitting needle?" she giggled.  "Why?"

His eyes never left hers as he said, "Didn't want to be dinner."  She knew he was gauging her reaction to his former life.  And she wanted to smile and say, 'That's nice' and move on, but she couldn't.

Here again was another forceful reminder that Spike was a vampire.  She'd almost forgotten.  Wanted to forget.  When he vamped out while fighting other demons, when he scared her by threatening her... even when she felt him bite into her during sex, she managed to forget that he was an evil demon.  If she didn't remember that part, she would only have to justify cheating on her girlfriend, instead of justifying cheating on her girlfriend with a demon.

But, future Spike wasn't evil.  He was still a demon, but he loved Buffy.  Had nearly died for her.  He cared for all of them.  And they cared for him.  So, even if he got his bite back... would he go back to killing?  Yes.  But would he go back to it so easily?  Would it bother him?  Willow thought it just might.  Not as much as it would bother a human, but she was sure it would a little bit.

His expression was solemn, almost... wary.  Did he care what she thought about him?  Or did he simply care that she might not sleep with him again?  Not wanting to get into another argument right now, she simply nodded, accepting facts.

Spike looked relieved that she didn't pursue the matter.  Her gaze fell on the long jagged scar on his stomach, and she raised questioning eyes to him.  His hand rubbed at it absently as the smoke from his cigarette curled around him.

"You mean I didn't tell you about that too?"  She shook her head, not elaborating.  "I'm not surprised," he said with a shrug.

A minute of silence passed.  "You're not going to tell me either, are you?"

"No."

She was even more curious now.  What could be so terrible that a vampire wasn't willing to talk about his battle scars?  Swinging her legs over the edge, she jumped down.  She would just find out later.  Maybe from her Spike.

"So... how about them Broncos?" she asked, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen.

Spike's chest shook with laughter and she grinned, joining him on the other side of the crypt.  He wrapped his arms around her back and held her.  She sighed, a feeling of contentment settling over her.  That contentment was shattered a moment later when pain shot through her chest.  Her legs gave out and Spike had to support her.  He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

"Willow, what's wrong?  What--"  Another wave of pain made her cry out in agony.  Spike reached out to hold her, but his hands passed right through her, and then everything went black.

~Part: 10~

(????)

Willow woke up on Spike's bed, in his crypt.  He wasn't beside her, and she was a bit disappointed.  But when she heard his lighter flick, and saw the light it created as he lit a cigarette, she smiled, remembering the night just passed.  She yawned and stretched contentedly.

"I dreamed that I went back to my own time.  You were, like, way curious and big with the questions, but I didn't tell you... or, him, anything."  A sudden feeling of deja vu passed through her.

Spike, who was leaning against the marble pillar, smoking, regarded her with no expression.  "And why's that, love?"

Willow laid back and grinned.  "Are you kidding?  You were freaked enough as it is... can you imagine what future you would do if he found out about... you know?"

Spike pushed away from the pillar and came closer.  "Maybe he wouldn't do anything.  Maybe he wouldn't mind."

Willow sat up and jumped down from the sarcophagus, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.  She shivered at the blank look in Spike's eyes and sat down in the armchair.  "Yeah, right.  Come on, Spike, if he found out I'd dressed you in a pink tutu and made you dance around the graveyard, he'd kill me."

Spike's eyes darted to hers, and she couldn't help the laughter that escaped her.  She laughed long and hard, holding her sides and gasping for breath.  "God, you should have seen your face."

Spike chuckled.  "Funny, Willow.  You're a real comedian.  How'd you know I wasn't him?"

Aside from my lack of panties, and the lack of desire when you look at me? she thought, but she kept silent on those subjects, opting for something safer.

"For one thing, the chair's not broken.  For another, I just left there.  I admit, I didn't know at first, but the memories came back.  Seems to be happening faster now."  Her smile slipped a little.  "Um, why am I here?  All this traveling is really starting to get confusing.  One minute, I'm at home, then here, only in the past, then here again, in our time... it is our time, right?  October two thousand one?"

He nodded, looking away from her.  "I found it."

"It?" she repeated, not allowing herself to hope.  All thoughts of past Spike and their fantastic love making was gone.  Her focus was completely on the Spike of the now.

"Yeah."  He stomped out his cigarette, looking uncomfortable.  "Are you, uh... do you have any... are you hurt?" he finally mumbled.

"No," she said curtly, wanting to know what had happened with the demon.  She sat forward intently.  "Did you kill it?  Is it dead?  Did it suffer?"  His eyes shot to hers, no doubt surprised at the coldness in her voice.  She didn't care what he thought, she just wanted to know.  "Well?" she asked impatiently.

"No, it's not dead, I couldn't--"

She jumped to her feet, anger and frustration showing in her every movement.  "Why the hell not?" she ground out.  Even she was surprised by the amount of anger she heard in her voice.

He stalked over to her and tapped her chest.  She flinched a little as residual pain shot through her.  "Still want to know why you're here, Willow?  Huh?  Think back," he told her angrily.  "You said goodbye to Tara, all nice and sweet, a little kiss and a wave.  Come on, think, Willow."  He was practically yelling now.  "You shut the door, took two steps and fell--"

"How do you know this?" she whispered, suddenly not at all sure that this was *her* Spike.  Or any Spike at all.

"I followed it into the sewers, and before you ask, yes, I'm sure it was the right demon.  It looked just like me, except the clothes."  He sat down in the chair she had vacated, his anger fading.  "It must have sensed me or something, because it looked right at me, and shape shifted into Dru."

Her expression softened at the pain on his face.  "I'm sorry."

He nodded dismissively.  "She came toward me, and all I could do was back away from her.  But then, she suddenly stopped, and there's Buffy, all smiles and sunshine."  His jaw clenched tight, and he turned his head away.

He didn't say anymore, but she had to know.  She needed to know everything about this demon.  So she could kill it.  Obviously it had read his mind and took the form of the people he loved, using that against him.

"What did you do?"

He looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there.  "Huh?  Oh.  Nothing.  Not a bloody thing.  Stood there watching her like a bloody fool.  I couldn't make a move against it, couldn't make myself... kill... Buffy.  Or Dru."

Willow nodded.  She probably wouldn't have been able to lift a finger either.  Not if it had the face of Oz, or Tara.  Or even Spike.  Especially after what had just happened between them... well, between her and past Spike.  Something she didn't need to be thinking about right now.  There would be plenty of time for that later.

He stood up abruptly, pacing restlessly around the confined mausoleum like a caged tiger.  "Then it changed into you, and I staked its ass."

Willow's heart stopped for a second, she was sure of it.  Her first assessment had been wrong.  So wrong.  The demon hadn't taken on the forms of people he loved.  Just people in his mind.  That was painfully obvious.  Extremely painful.  She was having trouble breathing.  She tried to sit down, but her legs gave out before she made it to the chair, and she ended up sinking to the stone floor.

Pain lanced through her heart.  Not like before, no, this was a different kind of pain.  A pain she knew well.  First from Xander.  Then Oz.  She had expected the next time to be from Tara, but never from Spike.

He actually looked proud of himself.  Proud that he didn't care about her at all.  He was still talking, oblivious to her pain and inner turmoil.

"Surprised the hell out of it too," he said with a grin.  "Then she waved her hand in the air and suddenly I'm seeing you and Tara at your house.  The stake in the demon's chest is what you felt," he told her helpfully.  "She grabbed the stake and twisted it, and you passed out.  I went and got you, brought you here.  Figured it knew where you lived, and with you being knocked out and all, you weren't safe there."

"Why should you care?" she whispered.

"What?"  He stopped pacing and faced her, confusion on his face.

"Nothing."  She hadn't meant to say that out loud.  He'd tried to warn her.  Told her he hated her more than all of them.  She got it now.  She understood.

She stood up, smoothing her skirt down.  "Thank you," she said politely.  "I'm going home now."

He grabbed her arm as she strode by him, turning her to face him.  "Don't think so, Willow.  I didn't save you just to have you get yourself killed.  You're staying here."

"Why?"  She was extremely happy she had done the spell that kept control of all those bad emotions, otherwise, she would probably be a sobbing mess right now.

He frowned at her, shoving his hands in his back pockets.  "I just told you why."

"Oh, yeah.  I forgot," she said angrily.  "You know what?  From now on, just forget it.  Don't go out of your way to help me anymore.  I don't want your help, I don't need your help, and I don't need you doing me any favors."  She stormed past him and yanked open the crypt door.

She had only gone a few steps before he was in front of her, blocking her way.  She stepped around him.  He grabbed her arm, pushing her back against a tree trunk.  "What's your problem?"

Tired of being manhandled by Spike, Willow grabbed him by his T-Shirt and spun him around, pushing him against the tree.  Her strength was somewhat lacking in the super department, so she knew he'd allowed her to move him.

"I've got enough cuts and bruises without you constantly grabbing me, so keep your hands off of me."

Spike's eyes narrowed at her, and she was sure she saw guilt swimming around in there.  "Bloody hell, I knew it!  What did I do to you?  In the past," he elaborated when she remained silent.  "What did I do to you in the past?"

Panic swept through her.  Did he know?  Had he figured it out?  Oh, God.  Denial was swift.  "Nothing, Spike.  You didn't do anything.  I didn't do anything.  There was a whole lot of not anything going on, okay?"

"Don't lie to me."  He reached out to grab her, but pulled back before making contact.  "You've been all secretive about what happened when you went back.  I want to know why.  Now."  He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, anger radiating off of him in waves, and the ever present jaw clenching.

She'd had enough.  Where did he get off demanding answers from her?  He had no authority over her.  He didn't even like her.  Hated her in fact, and the only reason he had saved her life earlier was because he felt responsible.  Well, she was letting him off the hook.  She got right in his face.  "Go to hell, Spike.  What happened is between me and you.  The other you.  And it's none of your business."

She gasped when his hand suddenly shoved her hair aside.  She thought he was going to bite her, but no sharp pain ripped through her.  He was examining her neck with a thunderous frown.  She stepped away from him, knocking his hand away.

"I told you not to touch me," she snapped.

"Who's mark is that?" he bit out.

She threw her arms out in exasperation.  "What is it with you, Spike?  This one is from Harmony," she told him, pointing to the mark, then pointed to the other side of her neck.  "And this one is from the demon."  She kicked at a headstone sticking up a few inches out of the ground.  "I'm getting tired of repeating myself to you."

"Not those," he said impatiently.  "The mark over Harmony's.  That's a vampire bite, and it wasn't there before."

Her eyes went wide and she slapped her hand against her neck, swallowing nervously.  She backed away from him.  "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not.  Get back in the crypt."  His tone brooked no argument.

"Bite me."  She walked away from him.

"Don't tempt me."  He grabbed her hand, twining his fingers tightly around hers, and dragged her back the other way.  "Come on."

She dug her heels into the ground.  "No."

"Yes," he retorted.

"No.  Damn it, let go."  She was losing her temper, and running out of excuses.  "It's your bite mark," she said, nearly crowing in triumph when he let go of her in surprise.  "Ha!"  She danced out of his way, and took off running.

Spike ran after her, tackling her to the ground.  He straddled her hips, holding her wrists to keep her from hitting him.  "Now, you want to tell me what the hell your problem is?" he ground out.

Ignoring the good feelings pulsing through her from the position they were in, she yelled, "You."  Trying to scoot out from under him, she yelped when she felt his legs clamp tighter against her.

He leaned down into her face.  "Keep it up, Willow, I'm enjoying it."

A shiver of desire ran through her at the familiar huskiness of his voice, and the feel of him pressing so intimately into her.  She immediately stopped struggling, not wanting him to know how he affected her.  "You're a pig, Spike."

His chuckle was low, deep.  "So I've been told.  Now spill."

She looked up at the moon, the tree branches overhead swaying in the light summer breeze.  A headstone a few feet away.  In Loving Memory of John Hutchins, 1932-2000.  Sad.

Anywhere but at the gorgeous vampire sitting on top of her, making her feel things she shouldn't be feeling, and trying to make her tell him things she didn't want to tell him.

He cleared his throat loudly.  She looked at him innocently. "Yes?"

"I'm not letting you up until you tell me," he laughed.

"Why?  Why does it matter so much?" she insisted.  "Stuff happened, things were said, actions were taken.  Why do you need particulars?"

He sat back on his heels, not giving her an inch to move, but making himself more comfortable.  His thumbs started tracing lazy circles on her wrists, and she sucked in a breath.  He wasn't paying any attention to her reaction to him, though, for which she was grateful.

"Simple, Willow.  It happened with me.  I want to know what I did, what I said, and what actions I took.  How would you like it if I went back in time and did things with you, but I wouldn't tell you what we did?"

"I would... probably be curious," she admitted.

"W-- Willow?" a surprised voice spoke from behind her, and Willow craned her neck to see Tara standing there, watching the two of them.

"Tara," Willow gasped.  She tried to get up, before remembering the heavy vampire sitting on her.  "Get off, Spike.  Tara," she called desperately, "this isn't what it looks like.  Spike.  Let me up, damn it."

Spike stood up, pulling Willow with him, but he kept hold of one of her hands.  Willow shot him a murderous glare.  "Spike," she hissed, "I'm going to take great pleasure in killing you later, but right now... let go!"

He wasn't even looking at her.  All his attention was on Tara, who was staring at Willow in shock.  "Go back to the crypt," he told Willow.

"It's just Tara."

Tara came closer, a malevolent smirk twisting her lips.  "Well looky here, if it isn't the vampire once again protecting the witch.  Still think I should get a refund?" she sneered at Spike.

Okay, not just Tara.

Willow looked from one to the other.  What was going on here?  When she returned her attention to the demon, Tara was gone, and in her place was Oz.  Willow took a step back.

Oz followed her.  "I missed you."  His gentle smile was gone, replaced by mocking laughter.  "You know, it is way too easy playing with you humans.  And vampires."  Now it was Buffy.

Willow looked at Spike, hoping he wasn't freaking as much as she was right then.  She was happy to see that he wasn't.  He was watching the demon as it circled them, keeping Willow behind him at all times.  This time, she let him.

"How sweet," Fake Buffy sneered, then pouted.  "I thought you loved *me*, Spike.  Little miss plain Jane here doesn't love you.  Not like I do."

Willow and Spike both snorted at the very un-Buffy-like behavior.  Spike stalked over to her and punched her in the face.  "Go back to hell."  Buffy's head snapped back with the force, but she was grinning.

"Wanna see something, Spike?"  Her eyes slid toward Willow and a sly smile spread across her face.  "Wanna see what little miss plain Jane's been hiding from you?"

Spike, about to plant his fist in Buffy's face again, halted.  His eyes shot to Willow's suddenly panicked ones.  Buffy leaned forward conspiratorially, and whispered, "Come on, Spike.  You're dying to know."

Willow closed her eyes and started chanting desperately.  She couldn't let the demon show Spike.  He would be disgusted.  He would hate her even more than he already did.  The only spell she could think to use on the spur of the moment was a relocation spell.  So she did it.  She asked the Goddess for protection and spoke the words.  When she opened her eyes again, Buffy was still there, but Spike was gone.

Oh, God, what had she done?

Fake Buffy burst into delighted laughter.  "Even better, Witch.  Now he can see things first hand."

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