Willow frowned, the light was in the wrong place and
instead of illuminating the retina it seemed to prefer
to bathe it in shadows, making it hard to see the tiny
symbol that graced Spike's eye.  Pulling away her
little magnifying glass, she glanced down at the torch
that was held by the vampire.  It was certainly a
strong enough light, but in its current position it
wasn't effective.

"Well?" demanded Spike.  "What the hell is it?"

"I can't make it out," stated Willow, shifting to
stand in front of the vampire, her hand cupping his
chin.  "Tilt your head back and here." she pulled at
his arm.  "Lift the torch up."

"Bloody hell, woman, I am breakable you know," Spike
spat as she pushed and poked at him.

"Just.shhh," she insisted, repositioning the torch to
her liking, so that it was shinning directly into his
eyes.  Unfortunately to look back into his left eye
she had to more or less straddle his lap and as she
did he smirked. "If you say anything," Willow
threatened menacingly, settling down on his lap.
"Then I will ground my knee into your groin and
gleefully crush your testicles."

"I'll be as silent as the grave," Spike stated, smirk
still in place and it was obvious to the blond that no
matter what had happened the little girl's spine was
still intact.

"I'll believe that when I see it," she was waiting for
the comeback, but it never came and she decided that
Spike really did place a lot of value on his
testicles.  Adjusting the magnifying glass and
reaching up to shift the torch slightly, she
scrutinized Spike's eye. There was definitely a symbol
set in the retina, in fact if she twisted the
magnifying glass and caught the light, directing it
towards the strange mark, the symbol shone.  It was
metallic, a bright silver that flashed every time she
concentrated the light over it.

"Red."

"Shhh," admonished Willow, peering into the blind
depths of his eye, committing the strange silver
symbol to memory.  There was something terribly
familiar about it, she'd seen it somewhere before.

"Red."

"What?"

"Five simple words, painful reality - magnifying
glass, light, burning sensation."

"Oh, sorry," Willow grimaced, pulling away the lens
and covering his eye with her hand, trying to soothe
away the pain she'd inflicted.  Folding up the
magnifying glass, she shoved the knife back into her
jeans pocket and took the torch from the vampire,
switching it off and tossing it aside.

"Yeah, brilliant, you're sorry.  You just ensured that
the last vestige of vision I have left is completely
obliterated," he closed his eyes, relaxing back under
the pressure of her hand, relieved that the discomfort
had finished.  "So, what is it?"

"I don't know, it looks familiar," Willow tentatively
pulled her hand away from his eye, her fingers
brushing over the closed lid.  "But I can't place it."

"Then this blindness has a physical cause?"

"I wouldn't call a silver symbol embedded in your
retina exactly physical.  A physical representation of
a supernatural occurrence, yes." Willow said softly,
her fingers left his eye to explore the scar that his
eyebrow bore.  There was something odd about being so
close to him, the worries that had panicked them both
not so long ago were temporarily forgotten in a
comfortable silence, the morning's sense of intimacy
returning in the crypt.  "If only there was such a
simple way to find out if I still had magic in me."

There was silence, nothing more was said and Willow
continued to brush her fingers along his scarred
eyebrow, dropping them down to trace the curve of his
cheekbone.

Opening his eyes, Spike was still surrounded by
darkness, but it was filled with so many things.  The
sound of Willow breathing, her warm breath rushing
across his skin every time she exhaled, the steady
thump of her heart that seemed to echo about the
crypt.  They were nothing compared to the scents
though. Willow was dominant, her unique feminine scent
mingled with her shower gel and that wickedly tempting
perfume of blood, she was still suffering the curse
and it was heaven sent, almost made him ravenous.  But
there were other scents in the crypt as well, of Dru,
of Buffy and of Angel, all melding together in some
obscene embodiment of mockery, taunting him of what he
was, what he wanted, what he didn't have.

Warm fingers swept across his scar and there was a
moment of peace for Spike. He put all his thoughts to
the back of his mind, pushing them away just as he did
with any number of unwanted memories until one stood
clear.a memory of a kiss that he'd thought had been a
dream.  Raising his hands, he wrapped his fingers
about Willow's wrists, a light pressure of reassurance
before his fingers dragged up over her arms.  They
came to rest on her shoulders, but didn't stay there
as he slowly spread his fingers until that first
teasing heat of her skin brushed across them and he
curled his hands so that the skin of his palms rested
against her throat.  Languidly, unfalteringly, his
fingers lightly stroked her neck and then abandoned it
for her face, caressing the line of her jaw.  With a
feather light touch he traced her hairline before his
fingers spanned across her face, following the natural
curve of her forehead and exploring the shape of her
nose and cheeks.  His thumbs fell to her lips, they
were soft and as her tongue flicked over them, moist.

Spike closed his eyes, remembering back to the morning
where they'd woken together, the details were burnt
into his memory. Tangling one hand in her short hair,
he guided her to him, their lips meeting briefly.  It
was insufficient, the brief contact didn't allow for
him to taste her, and so he held her close.  Wetting
down his own lips, the tip of his tongue inadvertently
brushed across hers and he heard the small intake of
breath, practically felt the pull of the air around
his face and he followed that pull.

This time, as their lips once more met, there was no
mistaking that it was a kiss.  At first it was
hesitant, each party waiting for the other to pull
back, to retreat, but then it became something more.
An increase of pressure, lips moving together, parting
and consuming. Plump flesh was sucked on, tongues
caressed and licked, tangled together as fingers
combed through short hair.  Hands crept over flesh and
fingers tightened their hold as the kiss continued.

"Nah," Spike declared, pulling back and licking his
lips.  "Nothing."

"Huh?" Willow clung to him, dazed and confused, quite
certain she was missing out on some bigger picture.
"Wh."

"I could be mistaken," Spike murmured, rolling the
taste around in his mouth, his taste buds devouring
the flavors.  "Hang on, cinnamon?"

"Err.toothpaste," Willow blinked a few times, still
not certain about what he was raving on about.  Maybe
the effects of the spell were starting to spread,
sending him more than slightly mad.

"Bugger," he muttered.  "Maybe I'm wrong."

"Wrong?" there was definitely something going on that
Willow wasn't a party to.  "Err, Spike, you umm, just
kissed me.why?"

"What, you declare you're madly in love with me,
affection which I acknowledged and said I returned,
and I'm not allowed a snog?"

"Oh," hissed out Willow in pure frustration, hitting
at his chest and squirming, trying to get off his lap.
 "You're disgusting.you know perfectly well why I."

"Keep your knickers on, Red," Spike chuckled, the arm
he'd wrapped about her waist ensured she wasn't going
anywhere.  "Last time we swapped spit I could taste
the magic on you. This time, though."

"Nothing," Willow realized somewhat despondently.

"I could be mistaken though," Spike murmured again,
shifting her slightly on his lap, scooting her
forward.

"Mistaken," repeated Willow and she shrugged.  "I
guess the only way to tell is for you to.well."

"Pucker up, Red," Spike smirked, licking his lips and
tangling his hand in her hair again.  "We're going
again."

Spike wasn't quite sure if he pulled Willow down to
him or if she actively sought out his mouth.  Either
way their lips met again and the kiss was repeated.
Only it didn't stop, instead of pulling back, Spike
seemed drawn into it.  Although no longer spiced with
magic, her taste was just as intoxicating, addictive
almost, and he was happy to savor his newfound drug.
There was something strange about a kiss that wasn't
born out of brutality for the vampire, but it was no
less stimulating and with every moment that passed his
craving grew.  Perhaps it was the feel of her hands on
him or those sweet whimpers that she made in the back
of her throat, which reverberated through their
mouths, he wasn't sure but there was something which
demanded more of him.

Never once breaking the kiss, Spike shifted, twisting
her about so that he could haul her legs up and cradle
her in his lap.  His hand skimmed over her, lightly
dragging over her jeans and moving up to cup her
breast, his fingers squeezing the slight swell of
flesh and eliciting the sweetest sound from the
redhead he'd ever heard.  But it was a sound that was
joined by another, his own muted moan that was
smothered by her mouth as her hand dug into his back,
pressing against a sensitive spot.  Their tongues
teased and tantalized as his hand ran over her throat,
the fingertips delighting in the feel of her rapidly
beating pulse.  His fingers ran across her jaw and he
cupped her face, the pain in his head was exquisite as
she cried out in agony.

"Ow," whimpered Willow, pulling away and wincing at
the throbbing of her jaw.

"What?" Spike demanded, cradling his own head as the
pain subsided to a dull ache.  "What happened?"

"My jaw, still a big ugly bruise.  In fact I think the
bruising is still coming out," she stated, gingerly
running her fingers over the darkening mark.

"Almost forgot, you're not the Slayer," Spike
chuckled, his fingers covering hers on her jaw.  The
comment cut Willow, more than she was willing to admit
and she jerked her head away, untangling herself from
his embrace.  Spike frowned as she pulled away, he was
almost reluctant to let her go, the taste of her
seemed to have instigated an insatiable hunger.

"No, I'm not," Willow stated, standing up and putting
some much needed distance between them. There was
something disturbing about wantonly engaging in such a
kiss with Spike "Was there anything?"

"Huh?" this time it was Spike's turn to miss out on
the big picture, until he remembered the very reason
they'd engaged in the second kiss.  "No, no magic."

"I.I should go," she insisted, nodding to herself in
total agreement.  Things were definitely getting
weird, she was willingly engaging in zealous kisses
with a vampire and worse still, she'd actually enjoyed
it, in a purely physical sense.  Turning away blindly,
she wrapped her arms about herself and headed toward
the door.

"You can't leave," Spike growled from behind her.
There was something in the way spoke, a brusqueness
that made her turn back and as soon as she saw the
feral amber eyes she wished she hadn't.

"Don't you want to find out what's causing this?"

"Of course I do," he spat, taking a step towards her.
"You think I enjoy being as blind as a bat?"

"Well, to find a solution I have to work out what that
symbol in your eye is and I can't do that without my
books or my computer, which are in my dorm room,"
Willow explained patiently.  When he remained silent,
she turned.  She managed to take two steps towards the
door before he spoke.

"Wait," he demanded and she once more turned back to
him.  The eyes were no longer amber, instead returning
to a stormy blue.  "You can't leave me," there was a
strange infliction to his voice, almost despondent.
"I can't see, Red. I." he sighed and the muscle in his
cheek tightened.  "You just can't leave."

Willow knew what he was trying to say, what he'd never
be able to admit to, he was vulnerable. As if the
fates decided the point needed proving Spike took a
step forward and tripped, collapsing in a heap amongst
the rubble that littered the crypts floor.  Crying
out, Willow rushed to his side, her hands wrapping
about his arm.

"Spike, are you all right?" she asked, trying to help
him up.

"Get off me," he hollered, shaking free of her grasp
and once more falling over.  Willow took a step back
and watched as he stumbled again amongst the rubbish
that was cluttering the floor before managing to
struggle to his feet.  "Go," he hissed, not even
bothering to look in her general direction.  "I don't
need you here!  The sooner we get this shite sorted,
the better."

"It can wait a few hours, 'til the sun goes down.  Are
you hungry?  I'm famished, I feel like I haven't eaten
for days.  I don't suppose you have any normal food."
she was rambling, like she always did when she was
stressed or trying not to think.  At the moment she
was definitely suffering from both and she casually
took hold of Spike's hand, babbling as she led him
back to the chair.  She continued to prattle on as she
fixed him some blood and feasted on the snack food
he'd developed a taste for.  Only when she found
herself falling silent did she turn on the television,
it provided a distraction from her rambles and
entertainment for Spike while they waited for the sun
to set.

"Red," Spike called, the racket of the television an
unwelcome intruder on his ever heightening senses,
with it blaring away he couldn't tell what she was
doing.

Willow didn't hear him, she was too engrossed in her
own thoughts, trying to place the silver symbol and
push away the truly disturbing memory of his kisses.
Of course the best way to distract herself was to
research, so she'd turned her attention to the few
books that Spike had in his crypt.  Unfortunately they
weren't exactly helpful.

"Red."

She wasn't even going to dwell on what was held
between the covers of most of the books, certainly not
after having sat on his lap and locked lips with him.
Standing up and brushing down her jeans, she wandered
over to the door of the crypt, inching it open
slightly.  It was nearly in as good as shape as her
dorm room one, it was barely supported by one of its
hinges, but it still worked and was secure enough to
block the afternoon sun that was slowly inching its
way across the sky.  A few more hours and the sun
would disappear, then they could make the trek back to
her room and she'd be able to research using her
trusty books and computer.  Of course if she couldn't
find anything there then she supposed she would either
have to tell Giles what was happening or.or what?  She
really didn't have any other choices, except for maybe
breaking into the Magic Box after hours so she could
search through the books that were kept there.
Wonderful, less than 48 hours spent with Spike and she
was already turning into a petty criminal.

"Willow," Spike had turned off the television and was
standing by it, focusing on her scent.

"Sorry," Willow stated, pushing the door close and
turning back to him.  "What is it, Spike?"

"Come here," he said quietly and Willow narrowed her
eyes suspiciously.

"Why?" she certainly wasn't going near him if he
wanted to embark on another spit swapping session.

"Just come here," he demanded and Willow sullenly made
her way over to him.  "Need a change of scenery, want
to walk me to my tomb?"

Silently, Willow linked her arm through his and led
him through the mess of his crypt, to the tomb that
sat squat in the middle.  Dropping her arm, he reached
out, running his hands across the hard surface before
turning his back to it and hauling himself up.

"Come sit with me," he patted the space next to him
and Willow hesitated.  Uncannily, he looked directly
at her and pouted.  "Come on, love, talk to me, I
can't stand this silence from you anymore.  It's not
natural for you to be so quiet, it's bloody unnerving,
so I demand that you ramble on about something."

"I don't ramble," stated Willow, hauling herself up
next to him.

"Sure and I love to sun bake," Spike drawled
sarcastically as she inched closer to him, her thigh
resting against his and he nudged her with his
shoulder, chuckling.

For the first time, Willow took a thorough look at his
crypt and the chaos that it contained. She'd only been
there once or twice before, but it had always been
reasonably tidy, in an undead kind of way. "What
happened to your crypt?"

"Redecorated, decided to go for that neo trashed
look."

"You did a good job."

"Yeah," Spike smirked.  "Had some help though."

"Is it still structurally sound?" asked Willow as she
spotted the columns that were practically demolished.
"I mean, you've got a couple of columns kind of
falling to bits."

"That was Angel," Spike stated, sounding very much
like a tattle tale.

"Angel?  What did he use, s sledgehammer?"

"No, me."

"Oh."

***

The telephone screamed, shattering the silence that
had enveloped the Magic Box, startling Giles from his
books.  Scowling, he dropped the volume he'd been
engrossed in and wandered over to the counter.  There
was no one else around to answer the infernal
contraption, Anya had left with Xander to fix Willow's
door and Buffy accompanied them, hoping to have a
quiet chat with the newly announced and yet strangely
disturbing happy couple.  But a call from the Slayer
had informed him that the duo hadn't been there and
Giles certainly didn't want to dwell on the
possibilities of where they were or, heaven help him,
what they could be doing.  It was too disconcerting.

"Good evening, The Magic Box, how can I help you?"
Giles answered, listening to some woman prattle on
about some specific magical item she simply had to
have.  "Unfortunately there's been a great demand for
that particular item and at the moment we don't have
any in stock, however we are expecting a delivery
within the next few days.  If you'd like to leave your
name and number, we'll call you as soon as they come
in."

It was all going so well, until he actually needed
paper to write down the woman's details.  It was
moments like these that he cursed Anya's almost anally
retentive attitude towards having a tidy counter.

"Umm, I'm sorry, could you possibly just hold while
I." he tore open the top drawer of the counter and was
greeted by the sight of any number of pens, but no
paper.  Desperately he pulled out the next drawer,
only to find that it too was devoid of paper.
Silently cursing his shop assistant, he patted down
his pockets, finally finding a crumpled piece of paper
and he smoothed it out, turning it over to write down
the customer's details.  "Of course, we'll call you as
soon as it comes in.yes, thank you."

Hanging up the phone, he picked up the piece of paper
and turned it over, thinking it must have been an old
shopping list or note from one of the Scooby Gang.  He
frowned at the flowery writing that covered the page,
small and elaborate script that he'd seen before.
Pulling out the receipt book, he flicked through the
pages, finally coming across a receipt that had been
filled out by Tara and he held the piece of paper next
to it, the writing was a perfect match.  It was the
piece of paper that had fallen from Willow's grasp
when they'd found her in the dormitory.  Hesitantly,
he picked it up and scanned over the words.

"Oh, as usual, dear," he muttered.
 

Part 22

Giles read over the words written on the piece of
paper once again, trying to understand exactly what he
was seeing.  Reaching up he pulled his glasses off and
rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose, closing his
eyes to savor the release of tension that the simple
gesture brought.  If only all the tensions in his life
could be so easily rubbed away.  At times like these
he'd remember his youthful dreams. He'd wanted
something simple - a rock-star or a grocer.  A small
bittersweet smile ghosted across his face as he tried
to picture himself as a grocer.

Shaking his head to dispel the picture of long ago
dreams, he opened his eyes to contemplate his
surroundings and his current dilemma.  Reaching out he
picked his glasses back up off the counter.  They
settled across the bridge of his nose with all the
solid familiarity of a knight buckling on well-worn
armor.  A knight . . . that fanciful image of himself
pulled a real smile from him as the image of himself
as a grocer had not.

"Vain old man," he muttered to himself, though his
voice held more amusement than self-censorship.  "Back
to the problem at hand, then."

That problem was Spike, or more precisely Spike and
Willow.  While his training as a Watcher had covered
many contingencies, vampire-human love affairs had
been notably missing, a lack that the Council should
seriously think about addressing considering the
frequency in which they seemed to appear.  And why
didn't he ever hear of these things happening to other
Watchers?  Why in God's Name was he so blest?

He hadn't actually believed the performance put on
earlier by Willow and Spike.  There was much about it
that had rung false with him.  For a second there when
Spike had declared their love, Willow had looked as
stunned as the rest of them.  That hadn't been the
only thing that had seemed off about the pair.  But at
the time, he's let it go rather than call them on it,
but now he wished he'd held them both longer.  At
least long enough to get a few more details because it
was obvious that they were hiding something, something
that went beyond their sudden confession of true love.
 

Or so he'd thought at the time.  But now Tara's words
seemed to indicate otherwise.

Scanning back over Tara's words again he picked out
the lines that confirmed the impossible.

**There's such love in his eyes when he looks at
her.**

**She's never smiled at me the way she smiles at
him.**

**He laughs with such abandoned joy.**

They loved each other.  Even seeing the evidence of
Tara's words it still seemed impossible and yet,
Tara's writing made it seem as if the relationship had
been going on for a while.

He scrubbed again at his eyes.  How had they missed
this?  Better yet, how had Spike and Willow kept their
relationship secret for so long?

Willow was the worst at lying and keeping secrets.
She invariably got nervous and spilled the truth in a
rush of words.  Spike was no better, although for
different reasons.  Giles knew Spike to be an
excellent liar, but he loved to taunt them with
information that he knew. That very desire to flaunt
his knowledge meant that he could keep a secret no
better than Willow.  That both had kept this
particular secret for so long just proved in a weird,
twisted kind of way how much their relationship meant
to both of them.

Giles made a half-hearted noise of amusement . . .
True Love, Hellmouth style.  God, he hated this place.

But then, not all of them had been blinded to the
truth. Tara had seen.  Her words made it obvious that
she'd discovered Spike and Willow's affair and seen
enough to come to the conclusion that what Spike and
Willow had was stronger that the relationship between
Tara and Willow.  She'd left because of it.

The question now, was what did he do about it?
Interfere or step aside and let Willow and Spike make
their own decision?

++++
 

Willow leaned her shoulder against Spike's, smiling in
response when he shifted without a word so that she
settled more comfortably against him.  They had lapsed
into silence, amazingly enough, it was a comfortable
silence.

Taking the opportunity that Spike's blindness
presented, she indulged herself in one of her most
secret illicit pleasures . . . vampire watching.

It was an old habit, one that she'd first picked up
when they had all discovered that Angel was a vampire.
 Vampires had fascinated her from the very beginning
and she'd taken every opportunity to watch Angel.
Part of the fun had been devising ways to do it
without getting caught staring by Buffy, Giles or
Angel, himself.  She tensed momentarily as old
memories stirred . . . Angelus had proved to be a bit
more aware of her scrutiny.  But she'd learned from
that painful mistake.  She'd never again made herself
that vulnerable when it came to indulging her watching
habit.

She'd had the opportunity since Spike had come back to
Sunnydale to watch him and he'd yet to catch her at
her study.  And she had the added security of the chip
imbedded in Spike's head.  It gave her a margin of
safety that made her somewhat odd hobby less life
threatening, which as far as she was concerned was all
of the good.

She liked to think that her time of Spike watching had
given her the ability to judge his moods and emotions
better than anyone in their little group.  She'd
learned that Spike hid more of his emotions than most
gave him credit for.  The emotions in his eyes didn't
always match the rude comments he made.  It was one of
the reasons that she'd agreed to help him with this
whole soul thing, because his words that night he'd
pleaded with her for his soul had been true, but they
hadn't been as true as the emotions locked behind his
eyes, emotions and feelings that he usually only let
free when he was dealing with Buffy.  The rest of the
time he played the big bad vampire, all gruff and loud
and uncaring.  Only now, that façade of his had opened
up to include her.

Granted, she'd kind of been thrust past his defenses
with little choice in the matter for either of them,
but he'd allowed her to see him at his most
vulnerable.

Watching him now, she realized he was still
vulnerable.  He was picking steadily at the black
polish on his short nails while his sightless eyes
tracked back and forth across the devastated landscape
of his crypt, almost as if he could still see the
destruction that his and Angel's fight had caused.

That steady picking told her a lot about his emotional
and mental state.  She'd observed this behavior before
and Spike only indulged in it when he was extremely
worried or upset.  He might be carrying on like it was
all business as usual but that one little nervous tick
gave away how worried he really was.

She wished to could offer him some kind of comfort.
But even if she could tell him that it was all going
to be okay, she doubted that he'd believe her.  She
smiled to herself.  She wanted to comfort Spike.  Who
would ever have thought that would happen?  What an
amazing transformation their relationship had taken in
just a few short days.  A few days ago he hadn't given
her the time of day, or the time of night, for that
matter.  She was just "the Witch", an extension of the
Slayer in Spike's Buffy-centric view of the their
little group.  She had been simply someone that Spike
had to tolerate.  He'd never been overly mean or nasty
to her, but then he'd never been overly nice either.

But that was days ago and with a single casting she'd
changed it all.  Magick wasn't supposed to have a will
of its own, but sometimes she wondered about that.
Because with one not-so-simple spell, she'd changed
everything, like dropping a stone in a still pond . .
. and the ripples were still spreading.

And what mighty ripples they were too. Spike had a
soul, Angel was back in Sunnydale, she'd destroyed
Giles' house, Spike was blind, she was magick-less,
everyone thought she and Spike were in love with each
other, and her beloved Tara was gone.  She didn't even
understand why Tara had left, only that like
everything else, it went back to that single stone
dropping into the pond.

Just thinking about Tara caused the hurt to bubble up
inside of her until she felt like it would choke her
in it's overwhelming sadness.

"She isn't coming back."  The words were out of her
mouth before she could stop them, hanging heavily
there in the shadowed gloom of Spike's crypt.  God,
how it hurt to say the words, saying them out loud
gave them life and finality.  Tara was really gone and
she wasn't coming back.

Spike didn't need to ask whom she was talking about.
"Tara."

She nodded, forgetting for a moment that Spike
couldn't see her.  Maybe he heard the movement. "So
why did the little witch run?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, thick and silent.  "I
don't know," she said around the sorrow that distorted
her words.  She couldn't seem to control these tears.
They weren't like the hysterical sobbing of earlier.
Those had been for her fear of everything that had
happened.  These tears were just the pain inside left
behind with Tara's leaving.  She reached up to wipe
away the watery streaks but more just took their place
until she gave up, letting them slide down her cheeks
at will.

Spike waited patiently for her to continue.

Eventually she did, her voice small and confused.
"She was saying crazy things there in the end.  None
of it made any sense."   She turned slightly so she
could look at Spike.  "I couldn't stop her, Spike.
She was just . . . gone.  It was like she'd made up
her mind about it and nothing I could say made any
difference."

"Your little witch didn't want you to soul me."

"But souling you is no reason to leave," she said,
frustration evident in her voice.  "We've disagreed
before about things."  She sighed softly.  "I don't
understand."

"It hurts."

Dropping her head down in sudden weariness, she
agreed.  "Yeah, it hurts."

With her head down she didn't see Spike reach his hand
up towards her, but raised her eyes when she felt his
fingers spider-crawling up her arm and shoulder.  Ever
so gently his fingertips brushed along her neck
bestowing what was almost a small caress across the
place where her pulse beat.  His finger continued up
until they touched her cheek, where he rubbed one
calloused thumb up the tracks of her tears gathering
the moisture.

Bringing his thumb back to mouth, Willow watched with
fascination as he delicately licked her tears from his
thumb.  His head cocked slightly to the side and he
nodded slightly as if confirming something to himself,
but he didn't explain.  This was definitely new
behavior.

She wanted to ask what he was doing.  What did her
tears taste like?  Why?  But all that came out was
"Spike?"

If he heard the questions in her voice, he didn't care
to explain and she realized that whatever that had
been about, Spike wasn't going to fill her in.

Willow gave a mental shrug.  He would tell her or not
when he was ready.  For now it was enough to drift
back into their shared silence and let her tears fall
until they seemed to drain away the hurting place
inside of her.  She had no doubt that it would fill
back up again, but then, wasn't that what pillows and
vampire shoulders were for?

She wondered if Spike ever wished for a shoulder to
cry on.  Not that he ever would, being a guy and a
vampire guy at that, but even vampire guys probably
could use a good cry . . . or a good bloodletting, now
and again.  Right now, he had every right to be as
miserable as she felt.  Hopeless as it seemed, she
wished that Buffy could love him.  There were depths
to Spike that Buffy would always miss.  With the pain
from Tara's leaving, she understood all to well the
pain Spike was going through with Buffy.

Buffy saw Spike in shades of absolute black and white.
 He was a vampire and nothing else.  Until that stark
view of him changed, Buffy wouldn't be able to love
him.  Spike didn't exactly make it easy for himself,
either.  It had been over a hundred years since he'd
tried to win the heart of a human woman.  Buffy wasn't
a vampire.  He couldn't make her love him with torture
or by giving her pretty dresses with pretty girls in
them, as he'd once done for Drusilla.

Realization hit her as she realized how their
performance at The Magic Box had just complicated
things even further for him.  "Oh God, Spike, we told
them we were in love.  You and Buffy . . ." she didn't
know how to finish so just let her words trail off
into silence.

Spike laughed softly.  "Don't trouble yourself over
it, Red.  Already thought of that one.  It's the story
of my soddin' life, really.  Get a soul to win the
Slayer and then can't pursue her because she thinks
I'm in love with you."

"I'm s-"

He cut her off with a growled, "Don't! Don't apologize
again.  They think what we need to them to think.
You're going to figure out why my eyes and your magic
are dead, until then, everything else is second
priority."

She tried to interrupt but he overrode her  "You
aren't listening to me here, Willow.  Eyes and magick,
first, then we tackle the Slayer and Angel and your
friends and . . . and . . " Spike stumbled when
nothing else came readily to mind.

"And Tara and broken hearts and love," she finished
for him, filling in the missing words.

"Right.  Once the old eyes and your magick are back,
you and me, we'll have a big break up scene."

Willow added to the picture he was painting.  "Buffy
will help console your broken heart."

Spike grinned devilishly at that image and added for
Willow's benefit, "Then we'll find the little witch
and get her back for you."

That thought made Willow smile.  It was a nice idea
and maybe, just maybe, they could pull all of it off.
They just needed a little luck.  They were due for
some luck.

Luck, however, had different ideas.

She felt it at first more than heard it, a slow,
grinding rumble that reverberated low in her chest.
She wasn't sure what it was but remained unfrightened
until beside her, Spike raised up his head to stare
sightlessly into the reaches of the dark ceiling.

"Oh fuck!"

That frightened her.  Swearing vampires were never a
good thing.  "Spike?"

"Goddamn it," he cursed again, startling her out of
her musings.  Leaping to his feet, Spike's hand groped
blindly for Willow's.  "Run!  Now!"

Willow had never heard that kind of panic in Spike's
voice before.  She didn't question or hesitate, but
simply caught his hand in hers and ran.  And as Willow
ran, the structural supports of the crypt damaged
during Angel and Spike's fight finally gave way
beneath the weight of the roof.  Sheer terror lending
her strength, Willow pulled hard against Spike,
yanking him through a sudden shower of plaster dust
and falling concrete blocks to the door, as around
them Spike's crypt seemed to disintegrate.

With a last desperate burst of strength, she hurled
them both through the doorway and out into the cool
night air, her lunge pulling them both off balance so
that they fell tumbling through the door.

Willow fell hard, the ground slamming into her with
bruising force, only to have what little air remained
to her knocked from her gasping lungs as Spike fell on
top her, his weight a solid presence across her body.

Staring up, she caught Spike's expression, the shock
of the sudden catastrophe causing him to lose control
of human mask her wore.  For just a minute, all she
saw were fangs and yellowed eyes, felt the weight of a
male body pinning her to the ground, and heard the low
growled curses ringing her ears.

In that instance, Willow was transported back to
another time and place and another vampire with fangs
and yellowed eyes that had pinned her mercilessly to
the ground.  And she remembered where she'd seen that
small symbol in Spike's eye before.  It had been in no
spell book or Chronicle or Watcher Diary.  It had been
hidden in the hairline behind one ear, hidden like
Spike's was hidden.

The symbol had marked Angelus.
 

Part 23

It was all too much for Willow.  Everything had
happened so fast the past few days--Spike's request to
be souled, the loss of Tara, Willow's missing magical
abilities--and now to find herself pinned beneath a
vampire in his full demonic visage (yet again) after
narrowly escaping death in a collapsing crypt....

Well, Willow did the only thing her over-loaded mind
would allow her to do.

She panicked.  "Get off!" she suddenly screeched at
Spike, who was still in his game face and sprawled on
top of her, but he did not obey. "Get the hell off of
me!" she demanded more loudly, kicking her legs while
shoving and clawing at Spike's chest.  Anything to
relieve the strange suffocating sense of desperation
that had taken over.  Willow was near tears by the
time Spike rolled off of her, and without a second
glance at Spike, Willow scrambled to her feet and put
some distance between herself and the vampire.

As Willow silently backed away, Spike was kneeling on
the damp ground, only a couple of feet away from the
pile of rubble that was once his home.  His game face
was still on, his yellow eyes wide with confusion and
a desperation that matched Willow's. After all, Spike
was not exactly having the best day of his unlife
either.  He was a blind, chipped, souled vampire who
was in love with The Slayer.  Add to that what he
figured was the complete destruction of his crypt, and
it was hardly a calming scenario.

And where was Willow?

A sinking feeling broke through his daze as he came to
realize that he didn't have the slightest bloody idea
where she was.  The dust of the collapsed crypt filled
his nostrils, making it impossible to detect Willow by
scent.  He couldn't hear her either, whether a side
effect from the terrific noise created by the falling
marble and stone or dust in his ears, whatever, but he
couldn't even make out the familiar sound of her
breathing...the comforting beating of her heart...

"Red?"

For the first time since his sight was stolen from
him, Spike felt completely alone...and he did the only
thing that seemed logical.

He panicked.  "Red?" he called again, turning his head
wildly in different directions, hoping to ascertain
where the redhead had disappeared to, but there was no
answer.  "Red!" he shouted desperately, forcing his
human face into place as he climbed awkwardly to his
feet.  His arms outstretched in front of him, he
stumbled about, bouncing off of a small tree before
falling against the pile of stone and marble that he'd
once considered home.  His sudden weight caused
another fall of debris as the heavy stones shifted and
tumbled, sending up more dust in their wake as they
resettled.

To Spike, this minor secondary collapse sounded like
an avalanche, and his imagination began to run
rampant.  The sickening feeling he'd been experiencing
multiplied into sheer cold dread.  What if Willow had
been inside during the second collapse?  What if she'd
panicked and had run back into what was left of his
crypt, only to be trapped by a second collapse?

"Red!  Bloody hell...Willow!"  Not thinking clearly,
Spike threw himself at the damaged remains of his
crypt, mindless of the sharp rocks digging into hands
and knees as he began to dig through the rubble.
"Willow!"

The desperation in his voice broke the spell that was
keeping Willow at bay, half-hiding a short distance
away behind a tombstone.  No longer was she seeing a
vampire, a creature bent on causing her pain.  Now she
saw Spike, her friend, and he needed her.

"Spike!"  She rushed to his side, grabbing his
shoulders to still him as he spun toward the sound of
her voice.  His eyes were wide with a fear she'd never
seen in them before, and guilt exploded within her as
she realized it was her fault for leaving him alone.
"I'm here, Spike....I'm here...and I'm fine.  I'm, I'm
sorry, so sorry. I just sorta freaked out..."

"I thought...I thought you'd left me."

"Spike, I wouldn't--"

"Don't *ever* do that again!" he growled, using her
own reassuring hold on his hands to pull her closer.
His hands slid up to grip her forearms and give her a
brisk shaking, then his voice and grip gentled.
"Don't ever do that again," Spike repeated, his hands
sliding up to cup her face.  "Never again..." he
whispered against the dusty skin of her forehead.

"I won't, Spike.  I won't," she replied softly without
hesitation, caressing his face to ease the tension she
saw there.

They stood that way for a long time, their foreheads
resting against each other, their hands on the others
face.

The sound of a distant car horn brought them to
reality with a jolt.  Stepping back, they parted...all
but their hands, which became firmly clasped.  "What's
the plan now?" Spike finally asked.  "By the sounds of
it, I need to be looking for a new place to hang my
hat."

Willow eyed the pile of rubble.  "By the looks of it,
you need to be looking for a new hat!"

Spike managed a tight grin.  "Lucky for me I don't
wear hats much.  Mucks up the hair."

"Come on then," Willow insisted, tugging on Spike's
hand to get him to follow her.  "Guess we'll have to
head to my place."

"The dorm?  Considering the amount of bloody time I've
spent there lately, I might as well sign up for a few
classes..."

"No, not the dorm.  Broken door.  I was thinking more
along the lines of Casa Rosenberg.  Since we're in
madly love, it's about time you met my parents, don't
you think?"

Spike straightened himself up, brushing at his clothes
and hair as they walked to remove some of the grit
that he was sure he was covered in.  "Think they'll
like me, pet?"

Willow laughed.  "Well, let's see...You're a blind
vampire with a taste for leather, loud music,
swearing, and bleached-blonde hair, and I'm the only
daughter of good Jewish parents...What's not to like?"
 She squeezed his hand, a sensation that Spike was
becoming strangely accustomed to.

They walked in silence for a block or so before Spike
finally asked, "Please tell me they're on some bloody
cruise in the South Seas somewhere."

"Week-long conference in Boston," Willow admitted with
a sly smile that Spike somehow knew was there.

He actually sighed with relief, which Willow found
quite amusing.  "Wonderful.  It's bad enough seeing
Angel.  Not in the mood for anymore disapproving
parental figures right now."

"Don't worry.  No parents."

"Satellite dish?" he asked hopefully, his non-seeing
eyes glistening under a passing streetlight.

"Cable."

Spike purposely heaved a hefty sigh.  "Guess that'll
have to do, eh?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're not buying it either."

Giles quickly but discreetly shoved the piece of paper
with Tara's writing on it into his pocket as Angel
strolled closer.  Giles didn't feel as if he
understood Tara's words enough to share them with the
others just yet.  He was sure that with a little more
time, he could make some sense of it all.  "Er, buying
it?"

"That act of Willow and Spike's."

Giles nodded, offering the vampire a knowing look.
"Ah.  I take it you also found their performance a
little wanting?"

Angel shrugged as he eased himself on to a nearby
table.  "Let's just say that Susan Lucci doesn't have
anything to fear from either of them at the Daytime
Emmys."

"Then you don't think there's anything between them,
Angel?"  Giles queried in what he hoped was a very
casual manner.

"I wouldn't say that.  They're up to something,
obviously, but since less than 24 hours ago Spike was
going overboard with the insinuations about he and
Buffy being..."  Angel could barely choke out the next
word.  "...involved...either someone's lying or
Spike's spreading himself awfully thin."

"Ah," Giles said with a slight smile, taking off his
glasses.  "So, he admitted to you about his, er,
infatuation with Buffy."

"Gloated's more like it.  Spike implied that they're
having a hot-and-heavy affair."  Jealousy tinged the
tone of his voice more than he liked.

Giles let loose a soft chuckle, but whether he was
laughing at the thought of Buffy and Spike together,
or at the fact that he was reassuring Angel about
Buffy's feelings for him, he wasn't quite sure.  "Yes,
well, I assure you, the crush is completely one-sided,
Angel.  As far as I know, Buffy's not the slightest
bit interested in Spike."

Angel grunted as he focused his attention on his own
hands, anything not to see the amusement in the
watcher's face.  "I'm not worried about Buffy," he
insisted.  "It's Willow we need to be concerned
about."

"Yes...right...Willow and Spike's sudden declaration
of true love..." Giles stomach twisted at the mere
idea, no matter how false he believed it to
be....*hoped* it to be.  "It's no surprise that Spike
is lying, for whatever reason...or even for no reason
whatsoever...but Willow?"  Giles leaned wearily on the
counter.  "I'm at a bit of a loss regarding her
reasons for lying.  I hadn't really thought Willow
capable of this kind of deceit."

"She is.  When the stakes are high, when it's
something she truly believes in or if she's trying to
protect someone, Willow will do whatever it takes."

Giles wasn't as confident. "How can you be so sure?"

"I just can," Angel abruptly growled, making the
Watcher stiffen in alarm.  "I...I just can," he
repeated, his voice softer, almost melancholy now.

Sensing that Angel knew something he didn't and that
the vampire preferred to keep it that way, Giles
wisely let the subject drop.  For now.

Slipping his glasses back on, Giles cleared his
throat.  "Be that as it may, there is obviously
something happening between the two of them, whether
it's, er, love or something else entirely.  If we
agree that they're hiding something, then the next
step would be--"

"--to figure out what they're hiding," Angel supplied,
already climbing to his feet.

"Precisely."

"Leave it to me."  Before Giles could think to
disagree or question his methods, Angel was gone.

~~~~~

"Talk," Angel grunted, his lips barely parting.  It
was after 10 PM, and Angel was standing on Willow's
front porch, having already been to the remains of
Spike's crypt and her dorm room, not to mention half
of Sunnydale, looking for them. The lengthy search had
done little to improve his already sour mood.  Neither
did the suspicious look on Willow's face as she stood
in the doorway.

"Is that a request or a command?" Willow retorted,
thankful that at least Spike was upstairs having a
shower before getting some sleep.  Hopefully, he'd
miss all of Angel's impromptu visit since she doubted
that this was merely a social call.  The vampire's
face remained grim, his lips tight.  Buffy always
swore that Angel had a great sense of humor, but
Willow wasn't so sure.  He obviously saved his standup
comedy routines for private showings.

Crossing her arms across her chest in what she hoped
look like a display of  irritation instead of
self-comfort or doubt, Willow stepped back from the
open doorway.

Angel didn't move a muscle.  Neither did Willow.

Angel cracked first, his lips curling ever so
slightly, but it was closer to a smirk than a smile.
"You have to invite me in, remember?

"You've been here before, remember?" she threw back in
the cockiest 'so there' attitude she could muster.

The only indication that he'd heard her, let alone
remembered his previous visits, was in his hands.
While his face remained blank, his body unnaturally
still, Angel's hands moved to clasp in front of him.
For a second, Willow thought he might actually twiddle
his thumbs in a rare display of nerves, but his
fingers were as still as the rest of the vampire,
frozen in a familiar triangular formation.

"I remember, Willow," he said in a irritatingly calm
voice, "but I assumed that you would have uninvited me
since then."

Willow quirked a brow, then almost laughed at herself
for adopting one of Spike's signature moves.    We've
obviously been spending way too much time together,
she thought to herself.  We're picking up each other's
habits.

They stared at each other for few long moments, then
with an audible sigh for Willow's continued
stubbornness, Angel entered her house.

Or at least he tried to, but was quickly stopped by
the invisible barrier.

"I did uninvite you, Angel,"  Willow said,
mirthlessly, looking him straight in his surprised
brown eyes.  "I just wanted you to realize that."

Willow spun on her heels and headed back up the
hallway toward the kitchen before tossing a casual,
"Please come in, Angel," over her shoulder.  By the
time the dark vampire caught up with her, she was
peering intently into the refrigerator.  "Sorry, I
don't have much to offer you in the way of blood or
even solid food.  I think my parents live on takeout."

"Oh, um, here..."  Angel quickly set a half-crumpled
paper bag he'd been carrying on the table, then
mumbled, "It's blood...for Spike."

Wondering where the bag had materialized from, Willow
opened it and peered in to find four large Styrofoam
containers full of the thick red liquid.  Struck by
the thoughtfulness of his gesture, Willow almost felt
guilty for her cold attitude.  Maybe Angel truly
wanted to help Spike after all?

She couldn't help smiling.  "That was very thoughtful
of you, Angel.  I'm sure Spike will appreciate it."

Angel blinked at her, and for a moment Willow had the
impression that Angel wanted to deny his kind act,
that he was uncomfortable with the thought of doing
something benevolent for Spike.  However, in the end,
he simply said, "You, uh, might want to get that in
the refrigerator.  I've been carrying it around all
night, looking for the two of you."

Ignoring the hint of irritation she detected in his
voice, Willow turned to put the blood in the fridge.
"Oh, do you want some?" she asked over her shoulder as
an afterthought.

"Not hungry."

Willow took at a bottle of water for herself, and took
a few large gulps as she closed the refrigerator door.
 Looking back at Angel, Willow cocked her head to the
side, just now noticing the slightly swollen look to
Angel's face around the nose and eyes.  "What happened
to your nose?"

Caught off guard by the abrupt change in the subject,
Angel gingerly touched his face, having almost
forgotten about the blow Spike had dealt him.  His
nose didn't hurt much anymore, thanks to his
preternatural healing abilities, and he was surprised
that Willow had even noticed.  Giles hadn't.

Of course she noticed, Angel corrected himself.  This
is just the sort of thing Willow would always notice.

"Lover's spat," he replied coolly, his eyes travelling
around the kitchen.

Willow frowned, still studying the vampire as she set
her bottle of water on the table.  "Buffy did this to
you?"

"Not Buffy."

"Not Buffy?  But who..." Willow didn't finish the
sentence as the truth finally smacked her right
between the eyes.  She only hoped she wasn't blushing.
 "Oh...you mean Spike..." Without thinking, she
reached out to tenderly touch the fading bruise
beneath his eyes, wondering if it hurt.  Startled by
her compassion and feeling completely unworthy of it,
Angel jerked away from her touch, simultaneously
grabbing her wrist to stop her.

"You were always too kind, Willow," he said in a tone
that was much harsher than he intended.  "Always
feeling sorry for the wrong person."

Willow wrenched her arm free and stepped away from the
vampire, feeling as if she'd been the one punched.  As
if she could ever forget how Angelus had wormed his
way into her house that night so long ago.  Soon after
losing his soul, he'd showed up at her back door one
night when she was alone, begging for her help.  He'd
pretended that 'Angel was in control', tearfully
explaining that he needed her help to control his
demon, thereby banishing the soulless Angelus forever.
 Not understanding the complex relationship between
demon and host, not to mention the effect that the
soul had on both, Willow had fallen for his act.
She'd invited him in, only to have him change from an
anguished vampire sobbing on her shoulder to a
sneering demon, laughing at her naiveté.   And
somewhere in between, he'd even made a thinly veiled
yet useless attempt to seduce her.

The memory embarrassed and incensed Willow, as it
always had.  "How nice of you to throw that in my
face...again," she said bitterly. "You know, now all
we need is for you to threaten a few lives if I don't
cooperate, promise to 'show me a good time' and it'll
be just like the good old days."

Her eyes flashed defiantly, her wary stance daring him
to try something, anything, but Angel took yet another
step back, hoping that the tension would decrease as
the distance between them increased.

"Enough, Willow," he said in a somewhat soothing tone.
 "Just tell me what that was about back at the Magic
Box."

She wasn't surprised that Angel completely ignored her
comments, steering the conversation back to something
less personal...less personal for him, anyway.  This
only angered her further.

"About?" she asked, feigning ignorance.  After all, if
he could do it, so could she.

"You and Spike...this act of yours that you're in
love."

"Act?"

"You may have fooled the others, but not me, Willow,"
Angel informed her wearily.  "Not Giles, either.  He
and I both agree that you're up to something, so I
volunteered to get to the bottom of it."

"Well, sorry to make you come all the way out here for
nothing, Angel, but you're both wrong.  We're in love,
and that's that."

Shaking his head, Angel leaned back against the
counter and fixed Willow with a derisive look that
made her blood boil.  "Spike's only ever loved two
people in his life.  Drusilla and himself."

"You're wrong, Angel.  Spike is very much in love."

"Right...he thinks he's in love, but with Buffy, not
with you.  He wants *Buffy*, Willow.  I think you know
that, so either you're lying to me..."  Angel paused,
trying to find some way to say what he needed to
without hurting her more, but he couldn't.  "...or you
actually believe that he loves you.  Don't tell me
that you believed all the sweet nothings he whispers
in your ear."

Was that pity in his voice?  She could accept a lot of
things from Angel...being ignored, the object of his
contempt and disgust, but she wouldn't put up with his
pity...not now.

"That didn't work when *you* tried it, Angelus," she
shot back hotly.  "What makes you think Spike would
have any more luck than you did?"

Surprisingly, Angel smiled at her words, but the smile
was not one of happiness but of melancholy, she
thought.

"No, false flattery didn't work with you, but
something else did," he replied.  "Threats
worked...against your family, against Buffy and Xander
and Giles..."

Willow had to turn away from the vampire to stare out
the kitchen window into the darkness, trying very hard
not to relive the memories of that one fateful,
horrible, never-ending night of terror that she'd
spent in the company of Angelus.  No, he hadn't hurt
her...not really.  In fact, after tricking his way
into her house and revealing his true nature, he'd
barely touched her except to drag her along with him
from place to place, from slaughter to slaughter.
Sometimes he'd put an arm around her but that was only
to corral her in the direction he wanted to go to find
his next victim.  Sometimes he'd held her hand,
painfully tight, for the same reason.  And yet, her
only physical scar from that entire night was one bite
mark high on her left breast, and that was done only
in warning, a gentle reminder of what he could do, not
only to her but to everyone she loved.  But the inner
scars...the picture of every one of Angelus's victims
that night, their screams of pain and terror, the
pleading looks for help they sent her way...those
scars ran deep.  Even now, years later, she still felt
responsible for the strangers' pain, their deaths, as
much as if it were her own teeth that had ripped at
their throats.

Pinning her down on her own bed after she'd fled up
the stairs in a vain attempt to escape, Angelus had
intimidated her into cooperating with him, hunting
with him.  However, it wasn't the gruesome threats and
loathsome insinuations that he'd made against her own
person that had convinced her to concede, it was the
threats against her family and friends instead. To
save them, she agreed to let Angelus 'show her
something worth watching' and accompany him on a
bloody romp through a nearby town, where Angelus let
her inadvertently choose his victims.  He'd changed
the rules after each kill, until Willow didn't know
which of her actions would be the deciding factor.
First it was accidentally making eye contact with a
couple walking hand-in-hand down the street, then it
was saying excuse me to a teenager that bumped into
her on his skateboard.  Not looking at the waiter in
the little café would cost him his life when his shift
later ended.  Coughing when the strong drink that
Angelus had ordered for her in a nightclub burned her
throat meant that the bartender would meet a bloody
end in the alley during his smoke break....

She still remembered their faces, and she could still
taste their blood, for after the final particularly
savage kill, Angelus--his face covered in the blood of
his victims--had kissed her, brutally, forcing her
mouth open and his blood-coated tongue between her
lips until she was gagging on the coppery-sweet taste
of death.  He'd released her just in time for Willow
to fall to her knees at his feet, retching until her
stomach was empty and every muscle in her body ached.
 

As if reading her mind, Angel came up behind Willow,
and she involuntarily stiffened, even though he didn't
try to touch her, even in comfort.

"Tell me what Spike threatened to do to them, Willow,"
he implored, softly, gently.  "What threats did he
make to get you to play along with this scheme of
his?"

"There are no threats," she replied weakly, still
caught up in a tangle of horrific memories.  "I
resouled him because it was the right thing to do and
I'm with him because I want to be...because he asked
me to be with him."

"I don't believe you."

Breaking free from her dark, hypnotic thoughts, Willow
whirled back around, angered by his condescending tone
and for the horror he made her relive. "I don't care
what you believe!  And what makes you think you can
just stroll into my home and tell me what to do?".

"You called me, Willow!  You said that I owed you, and
I'm trying to...trying to help you."

"I called you for Spike, because I thought he'd need
your help, Angel.  *Spike*,  not me!"  Willow glanced
out toward the hallway that led from the kitchen to
the stairs, then back to Angel.  "Frankly, I don't
think Spike really needs you after all, so feel free
to go back to LA."

Angel's eyes narrowed, but he didn't budge as he
stared at the defiant redhead.  Finally, with a jaded
shaking of his head, Angel spun around and headed for
the back door.  His hand had barely turned the handle
to let himself out when he heard Willow speak.

"Why am I not surprised that you didn't even say
good-bye again.  Why start now, right?" Willow said
before she could think better of it.

"Goddamn it, Willow!" Angel shouted at the door, not
trusting himself to face her quite yet.  "Quit playing
games and tell me what the hell is going on!"

"Lower your voice!  You'll wake him up and he needs
his rest!"

Angel spun around, his anger almost forgotten as he
studied her expressive face.  "Why?  Did something
happen to Spike?"

Even the note of concern in the vampire's voice
couldn't quell Willow's anger.  She assumed that Angel
was hoping Spike was finally suffering for his years
savagery.

"Spike's fine...just a little tired from taking care
of me the past couple of days while I had my magical
breakdown."  Willow paused, lifting her face to the
vampire.  Her smile was full of innuendo.  "Or maybe I
wore him out last night?  You know how it is when you
first fall in love...can't get enough of each
other..."

Angel stalked closer to the redhead, fighting an urge
to shake some sense into her until she admitted that
she was lying about her relationship with Spike, but
then he detected Spike's familiar scent--leather and
cigarettes, musk, moonlight, and madness--all over
her.  They'd obviously been closer than just holding
hands.  Moving with a predator's swiftness, he caught
Willow by the hair, forcing her head to tilt to each
side as he rapidly surveyed her neck.  Then as quickly
as he'd grabbed her, Angel released Willow before she
had time to fight back.

"No bite marks," he announced with more than a touch
of satisfaction to his voice.

Rubbing the back of her head, Willow managed a coy
smile.  "None that you can see, anyway.  He can be
very discreet...takes after his--"

"Don't play these games with me, Willow," Angel
snarled impatiently.  "Not with me!"

"And don't you dare use that tone of voice in my
house, Angel!  Never again!"  Willow reprimanded, her
hands moving to her hips as she stood up to the
vampire.

His demeanor softened, his tone gentled.  "I-I'm
sorry, Willow, but I know you don't love him.  You
can't...you couldn't..."

"And why not?"

"Because he's Spike...a vampire...and you're, well,
you're Willow.  Besides, I, uh, thought your tastes
ran towards...women now," Angel said hesitantly,
Willow thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

She shrugged casually.  "I'm eclectic...an equal
opportunity lover, I guess you could say.  Werewolves,
witches, demons...male or female..."

"But you don't love, Spike," Angel concluded aloud.

"Of course I do.  I may be eclectic, but I'm not, you
know, *easy*," she said defensively.

"Why, Willow?  Why do you love him?  What can you
possibly see in Spike that's worth your love?"

Willow wanted to slap him, now more than ever.  How
could he even ask such a question?  What kind of a
sire, or grandsire, was he? she wondered crossly.  She
was also beginning to wonder if Angel was as blind as
Spike.

"Answer me, Willow."

Willow leaned back against the sink, her arms crossed
over her chest.  "What's not to love, Angel?  Have you
looked at him?  When he's not half-starved to death,
Spike is...well, damn sexy!"  Angel looked
unconvinced, so Willow continued.  "He has the most
beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen...ice blue.  No,
that's too cold...more like, like watery
diamonds...clear, sharp, sparkling...and his
cheekbones and jaw..." Willow sighed, smiling to
herself as she pictured the blonde vampire,
remembering their earlier kisses. "...they practically
beg to be licked..."  Willow sighed yet again.  "And
his voice...he has a voice that could melt steel,
Angel."

Angel swallowed, hard.

"And he's smart, you know?" Willow added, her eyes
focused past a point on the wall as she reminisced
about Spike.  "A lot smarter than we give him credit
for...smarter than he lets on.   And he makes me
laugh.  And when he kisses me...god, when he kisses
me..."  Willow's eyes half-closed at the memory before
she recalled where she was and who she was talking to.
Coming back to reality, she focused on Angel again.
"He's just beautiful, Angel."

Angel appeared unaffected.  "Beautiful or not, don't
forget, it's Buffy he really wants.  Or am I to
believe that over the past two days, he's changed his
mind?  That suddenly he no longer wants Buffy and is
suddenly in love with you?"

Instead of being hurt, Willow's previous anger was
reawakened.  "Why wouldn't he want me?  I'm pretty
darn sexy, if I do say so myself.  And I got this
mysterious witchy-thing going on, which he seems to
dig.  I'm smart, and...and funny...and...loyal...And
I'm as beautiful as Buffy is, but just in a different
way.  A Willowy-way."  She straightened up, tossing
her shoulders back and her chin high in the air.  "I
don't have to sell myself to you, Angel.  He just
loves me, that's all."

Shaking his head, Angel began to pace irately about
the kitchen.  Then he stopped and fixed Willow with a
sneer.  "I thought you were smarter than this, Willow,
especially after what I put you through.  I never
thought you could be this stupid, not to mention
childish and selfish..."

Willow stiffened, the vampire's bluntness like a blast
of frigid air.  "Yeah, I guess I am stupid.  Stupid,
stupid, Willow, because for a moment I actually
thought you had come to help Spike, that some sort of
paternal instinct had kicked in...or that maybe just
common decency had reared its head, but no...you just
came to insult us both just a little more."  She took
a step closer to the vampire.  "Well, save your
breath, Angel...and yeah, I know, I know...you don't
breathe, but you get my point.  Just save yourself
some time and get out now, before things get ugly.
Before one of us says something really nasty.  Or,
even worse, we actually talk about what happened that
night!"

Angel winced.  "Willow, I--"

But Willow'd had enough and didn't give him the
opportunity to finish that statement.  "Get out,
Angel.  Now!" she commanded, holding the back door
open for him.

Angel didn't hesitate until he was outside, then
Willow slammed the door...but not before she heard him
say, "Goodbye, Willow."

Feeling the need to scream, but not wanting to disturb
Spike, Willow was just about to look for something to
throw, something that would make a very satisfying
crash, when a sound behind her made her turn around.
Spike was feeling his way along the wall into the
kitchen, smiling wildly.

"Spike?  Oh, um, how long have you been..."  Willow
took his hand to lead him into the room as he tried to
fumble his way around the trash can.  "I mean, how
much of that did you hear?"

Spike grinned wickedly, his blue eyes dancing as he
pulled the surprised redhead firmly against him.  "I
heard about this much," he murmured, before his mouth
sought and easily found hers.

Willow froze for only a heartbeat before giving
herself over to his insistent lips.  The kiss was
nothing like the others they'd shared.  It was soft
and achingly sweet, making her heart skip a beat as
she melted into it.  Instead of hunger and need, the
kiss spoke of promises and gratitude, of emotions not
yet understood and unaccustomed tenderness.

When it was finally over, which was far too soon for
Willow's taste, she was in a bit of a daze.  "Um, what
was that for?"  she somehow managed to ask the
vampire, who was now trailing little biting kisses
along her jaw line.

"That was for the bloody marvelous look on Angel's
face when you kicked him out on his highly inflated
ego," he murmured thickly into her ear.

"You saw him?" Willow asked excitedly, wondering when
his sight had come back. "You can see?" She tried to
pull out of his arms to look into his eyes, but Spike
wouldn't let her get that far.

He smiled, his lips hovering over hers.  "No, but I
could imagine it, and it was bloody brilliant!"

Then he kissed her again, teasing her, brushing his
lips ever so softly
against hers until the fleeting contact drove her to
pull him closer. That
was what he wanted. Now he demanded and promised the
same and sweet Willow
parted her lips without thinking, giving him the
access to brush his tongue
against hers.

"And th-that?  What was that for?" she asked when she
finally had the sense to break away and catch her
breath.

"Lickable cheekbones, watery blue diamonds, and a
voice that could melt steel..." he teased, cupping her
face and letting his fingers wander the soft skin of
her jaw and chin, occasionally grazing her lips.

"Oh, well, that."  Willow swallowed nervously.  "I
just read that the other day in a silly romance
novel...but it worked....it, um, fooled Angel."

He gently searched the soft, smooth skin of her cheeks
with the callused pads of his thumbs.  "Are you
crying?"

"No...I promised myself a long time ago that I would
never let him make me cry again...

"Again?"

"Please don't ask, Spike.  Not now."

"Fine by me, since there's something I'd much rather
do than talk about Poof Sr. right now.  But first I
have to know...did he...did the damned wanker *hurt*
you?  Did Angelus...?"  Spike couldn't seem to finish
the sentence, luckily Willow was already shaking her
head emphatically.

"No...it was nothing like that, Spike.  No
torture...no maiming...well, at least, not to me..."
She took a deep breath.  "And no, no rape...or
attempted rape...or even much of a seduction attempt
as far as that goes," she said in response to his
unasked questions.

Spike raised a brow, his mouth tightening in concern
as he considered his next question, but Willow
silenced the vampire with a kiss of her own.   The
other kissed they'd shared had been just kisses,
localized and  relatively tame considering one of them
was a vampire and the other a witch.   This time
Willow put her whole body into it. Curling her fingers
into the short hairs at Spike's nape, she both drew
him down to her and pulled herself up, pressing her
entire length against him. She worried for one brief
second if he'd be shocked, but she didn't have to
worry as she felt his
hands, solid and wide, settle low on her hips to pull
her even more firmly against him.

When Spike pulled away this time, they were both
panting. "Not that I'm complaining, Red, but what was
that for?"

"For not asking anymore questions about Angelus,"
Willow managed through ragged breaths of her own.
Then, shaking her head as the memory of the kiss
continued to wreak havoc with her ability to think
clearly, she added, "Wow...Buffy doesn't know what
she's missing...."

Spike half-smiled in response, his own voice shaky.
"And I'm beginning to think that the blonde witch was
a complete nutter to leave you, Red."

They were unconsciously drifting towards each other
again, when the kitchen door flew open and Angel
dramatically waltzed in.

"Angel," Willow whispered, automatically trying to
pull the incapacitated vampire to her side, but Spike
instead moved closer, pulling her into a tight embrace
and keeping his back to Angel.  Spike hadn't needed to
be told that the older vampire had entered the room.
He instinctively knew.

"Do I have to get the hose?" Angel drawled.

"Why?" Spike shot back, then began planting wet,
half-hearted kisses on Willow's flushed throat.  "Late
for your nightly bout of self-flagellation, are you?

"Hey, I didn't invite you in, Angel.  This is breaking
and entering...and just plain rude..." Willow
haltingly informed him, trying to control the heat
that was rushing to her face.

"Yeah, so piss off, Angel.  We're busy," Spike added
between playful nips to her earlobe.

Willow was about to push the blonde vampire away,
thinking this was hardly the time for whatever it was
they'd been doing, when she realized what Spike was up
to.  The teasing bites and tender kisses to her neck
were only a means for hiding his disability from
Angel.  He would appear to simply be in the throes of
passion, swept away by desire for Willow, instead of a
blind vampire trying to avoid the questioning gaze of
his grandsire.  So she tried to play along as best she
could considering the audience, letting her hands
freely roam over Spike, and hoped that Angel would
take the hint and leave.

Unfortunately, Angel simply crossed his arms and
leaned back against the sink. "Don't mind
me...continue with what you're doing."

"Unlike you, mate, I don't need an audience to get my
jollies, so sod off," Spike growled close enough to
Willow's ear to make her wince.  As she ran her
fingers through his short-cropped hair, she was
relieved that Spike couldn't see the smirk of
disbelief on the other vampire's face.

"You know, you two kiss like it's the first time,"
Angel smugly informed them, as if he hadn't heard
Spike.  "I saw you through the window and thought the
young lovers might want some advice..."

Willow felt Spike stiffen in her arms.  She tried to
subdue him, letting her hands wander the taunt muscles
of his back and shoulders, soothing...caressing, while
she replied, "I'll have you know we've kissed lots of
times."

"Really?" Angel laughed.  "Could have fooled me.  Now,
I couldn't hear what you were saying, but I know what
I saw...looked like you two are still kinda learning
the ropes with each other."

"Ignore him, Red," Spike murmured in her ear, but his
voice was more anger than seduction.

"Well, it's been a while...since I've kissed a, um,
man, so..."  Willow swallowed, finding it strangely
hard to talk under Spike's ministrations, no matter
how calculated his actions were.

"You're doing fine, Red...don't listen to the
pillock...his lips are always too stiff when he
kisses..."

"Not that there's anything wrong with the way you two
kiss, Willow," Angel continued in a tutorial tone.
"The beginning stage of a relationship is always a
little awkward...getting to know each other, learning
what pleases one another.  I just thought that maybe
you'd want some tips...about what Spike likes..."

Spike stopped what he was doing, his fingers digging
harshly into Willow's waist, and Willow knew he was
struggling for control.  She tried to distract him by
turning her attention to what she'd described as his
'lickable cheekbones and jaw', using all of her oral
talents on his cool pale skin until she'd almost
forgotten Angel was in the room.

Spike was just starting to respond, his own lips
beginning to wander her tempting flesh again, when
Angel's next words caused much of the heated blood to
drain from her face:  "And maybe I could give Spike a
few hints about what you like, Wil--"

Angel didn't get a chance to finish because Spike had
pushed away from Willow to launch himself in the
general direction of Angel's voice, which was exactly
what Angel had hoped for.  The darker vampire easily
sidestepped the enraged Spike, and his face turned
serious, his voice grim as he demanded, "How long has
he been blind, Willow?"

Spike, having encountered only the dishwasher, which
didn't put up much of a fight, whirled again toward
the sound of the masculine voice.  "It's not my bloody
eyes you should be worried about," he warned, then
threw an arcing punch at Angel, which was effortlessly
avoided, leaving Spike dangerously off-balance.  Angel
then punched the younger vampire squarely on the nose,
sending him barreling backwards to collapse against
the refrigerator.

Horrified, Willow knelt at the fallen vampire's side.
There was a considerable amount of blood gushing from
his nose, which appeared to be broken.  "What did you
have to do that for?" Willow demanded accusingly.
"Especially if you knew he was blind?"

"Lover's spat," Angel informed her nonchalantly over
Spike's curses.  "Love is blind, right?"

Angel had, in fact, seen everything through Willow's
kitchen window.  Whether it had been a sixth sense
telling him that Spike had been listening in toward
the end of the conversation or simply that he couldn't
make himself leave Willow on such a dark note that had
made him linger outside, Angel wasn't quite sure.  But
the moment he saw Spike feeling his way into the room,
he knew...in a flash of enlightenment, Angel knew that
something was wrong with Spike's sight.   As he
watched them talking, kissing, it all began to make
sense...their behavior at the Magic Box, Willow's
actions, all of it.

Willow had been protecting Spike, and in order to do
so, they had kept the truth from everyone, including
him.  William, his own blood, had hidden his
disability from his own grandsire, and that disturbed
Angel more than he wanted to admit.

Instead, Spike had turned to Willow, who was now
giving him dirty looks as she kneeled over Spike.

"Let me get some ice for your nose, Spike," she said
gently.  "I think it's broken."

"I can get it myself! I'm not a bloody invalid, you
know," he retorted bitingly, yet he stayed on the
floor, letting Willow tend his bruised face and his
bruised ego.

Willow sighed, shooting the other vampire a baleful
glare.  "I know you're not an invalid," she said to
Spike in an even tone, but she was still looking at
Angel.  "But I always help people, even the wrong
ones...just ask Angel if you don't believe me."

While Willow helped Spike to his feet and got a cold
cloth for his bleeding nose, Angel moved to the
refrigerator and took out one of the containers of
blood.  Under Willow's scrutiny, he poured it into two
mugs he found on a mug-rack and then popped them in
the microwave.

"What the hell is he doing?" Spike growled, craning
his neck to try to make sense of the various sounds.

Angel answered before Willow had the chance.  "I'm
making us something to eat, then we are going to sit
down and discuss what has happened to you."  His voice
caught.  "Especially why you felt you had to hide this
from me."

Spike almost smiled, but he found it hurt too
much...so he smirked instead.  "Peaches sounds more
than a little brassed off, Red."

"Then his voice matches his face."

Twenty minutes later, Angel and Spike were sitting on
opposite sides of the kitchen table.  At Spike's
request, Willow had searched for and found a few
bottles of red wine in her parents' wine rack.  After
a promise that they'd be replaced by new bottles
before her parents could notice them missing, Willow
was 'Irishing Up' both vampires' mugs of blood with
more than a little wine.  After a brief hesitation,
Willow poured a glass for herself as well.  It looked
like it was going to be a long night.

"He has the same symbol I have but in his eyes
instead?" Angel questioned after Willow filled him in
on some of what had happened.

Willow nodded, then stopped, struck with a thought.
"Wait?  You mean you still have that symbol?  I saw it
on Angelus, but..."

Angel turned his head, parting the hair behind his
ears so Willow could see it better.  Still, she had to
lean across the table before she could find the tiny
tattoo.

"Oh," she said softly, "I-I guess I was never close
enough to you, except that one night, to notice it
before."

"So the bloody symbol in my eyes has nothing to do
with my blindness?" Spike suddenly blurted out, a
little too loudly.

Angel took another sip of his blood cocktail before
calmly answering.  "Comes with the soul.  I think the
fact that it's in your eyes is just a coincidence..."

"But what does it mean?" Willow asked, trying not to
cough after a large gulp of the tepid wine.

"I've been told mine is a Rom symbol for revenge and
justice."

Whether strengthened by the wine or the need for
truth, Willow leaned across the table and gently
forced Angel's head to the side again.  Her fingers
lightly traced the strange icon behind his ear,
causing Angel to flinch.  "Actually, Spike's looks a
little different..."

"His probably signifies something more like a 'gift,'"
Angel stiffly retorted, jerking his head away from
Willow's probing touch, making her sigh.

"Angel, if I could do the same for you, I would, you
know."

Spike snorted, wishing he could see the look on
Angel's face.  "Poof Sr.'s right.  You do always feel
sorry for the wrong person, pet."

Willow ignored Spike's snide remark.  "But when I
recursed you with your soul, I wasn't really me.  In
the end, I was...possessed by someone else, the spirit
of the woman who originally curse you, I think.  I
wasn't in charge, and I have a feeling, that even if I
were to try again, the same thing would happen.  *I*
wasn't seeking revenge, Angel, but they were."

Angel wanted to tell her that he understood, that he
didn't really blame her and that he never did, but
Spike ruined the moment.

"Don't bother feeling sorry for him, Red," Spike said,
reaching over and easily finding Willow's hand,
despite his blindness.  Clasping her delicate hand,
his thumb caressed the back of her knuckles as he
wryly continued, "Angel does that enough for both of
you."

Angel didn't miss a beat.  "I know the truth now,
Spike.  So you can quit pretending to care about
Willow, when we all know you did this for Buffy."

Embarrassed, Willow quickly pulled her hand out of
Spike's, downed the rest of her wine in one gulp and
stood up.  "Um, why don't I leave you two alone to
talk.  I need to, er, go take a shower anyway..."

Spike waited until he was sure Willow was gone, then
fixed his grandsire--or at least the general vicinity
that Angel was in--with a hard look.  "Tell me,
peaches.  Do you ever actually *use* this soul of
yours?  Obviously, tact wasn't a free-bonus item that
day."

"Why didn't you come to me, Spike?  I'm the first
person you should have come to when this happened."

"Why, so you could stake me yourself?  So you could
kick me when I'm down, which seems to be your favorite
hobby?  You're the last soddin' person I wanted to
know."

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