"Maid service," muttered Spike, watching as with a few
practiced moves Tara set the bed straight, the cover
pulling up to reveal his old boots. "Oh fuck."
He spoke louder than he meant to, and, as Tara spun,
he
pushed the door shut. For a moment there was nothing
and he was pretty sure that he'd gone unnoticed. At
least until the doorknob started to twist.
#######
There was a pause. Then a long pause. So long, in
fact, that Spike thought the girl had lost her nerve,
or blamed his outburst on an unusually foulmouthed
rodent. No such luck; the door swung open.
He
braced for a storm of tears and reproofs.
"Oh. You again." Indifferent, the blonde began
turning away.
Spike shook himself. "What, no outrage? No pleas? No
'Take me, but spare my precious redhead?'"
She turned back, expression still bland. "You don't
w-want to hurt her. You're mad at Buffy, not her.
And you couldn't, even if you wanted to."
That tore it. He lunged forward, obliterating the
foot-wide gap she customarily maintained between
herself and the world, and leaned into her face. She
flinched; her heart rate rose, but not nearly enough.
"I want to hurt all of you, luv. Temporarily
incapacitated, 'sall. Emphasis on the 'temporarily'."
He jerked his chin at the smoothed coverlet. "And
aren't you the least bit ruffled about my boots -- and
more -- in her bed?"
The witch dropped her chin, hiding behind her swinging
hair. An almost inaudible voice replied, "She
doesn't love you. She doesn't even like you. She
might have felt sorry for you, but that's all."
"So you don't care who she sleeps with? How very ...
open-minded." He put special emphasis on the last
word.
Her mouth, the only visible part of her face, twisted.
"Of course I care. But she wouldn't. Sleep with
you. She just slept in the same bed. That's
different."
Spike sneered, "How can you be so sure?"
"I am so sure. Because I know her. And you never
will. In or out of bed." She turned her back on him
again and began walking to the door.
"Ah, but does she know you?" The averted shoulders
hunched. "Does she know you're prying into her
secrets? Snooping through her drawers? Pawing
through her undies instead of asking for what you
want?"
The blonde whirled, and the first time she paid his
proper tribute of fear. "We- we practically live
together. She knows I come by and borrow stuff all
the time. This isn't any different."
"Which is why you waited until she'd left the room
before you started searching. For what? I don't
think it was that missing sock, pet."
She reflexively glanced down at her feet before
glaring at him. "That's none of your business." She
ran out, slamming the door behind herself.
Spike looked around the room for something to break.
He picked up a particularly egregious pink obelisk
(penis substitute, no doubt) and threw it at the
floor. It failed to shatter. He sank back to the bed
and dropped his head into his hands. Here he was,
castrated, starving, surrounded by New Age posters and
trash that would embarrass even Harmony, scorned by
losers that even the other losers despised, and
begging one of Sunnydale's social outcasts for a
favor. How the Hell had he wound up in this position?
It was the Slayer's fault, of course. Like everything
else in his unlife.
And if the Slayer had caused it, only the Slayer could
set it right.
#######
Tara met Willow as she left the bathroom. "So, are
you still thinking about summer school this year?"
Willow relaxed. Apparently Spike had managed to be
inconspicuous for once. Thank God. She really hadn't
wanted to explain his presence to Tara. Tara wasn't
entirely on board with the whole Scooby thing in the
first place; Willow was sure she wouldn't understand
giving comfort and shelter to a vampire. Not that she
really understood it herself.... she realized that
Tara was waiting for an answer.
"I don't know. On the one hand, it would give me
something to do in the summer -- not that I'm bored,
it isn't that, but it would mean that I could finish
college that much quicker, but since I don't know what
I want to do after college maybe that isn't such a
good idea anyway, I'm babbling again, aren't I?"
One of Tara's radiant Willow-smiles. "Yes, but I'm
used to that. What would you do if you weren't taking
classes?"
Willow grinned in return. "The question is, what will
WE do if I'm not taking classes? There's an us to be
considered, remember?"
Tara looked away. "Um. Yes. But...."
"But what, Tara? You know I wouldn't make plans
without you. You're an important part of my plans,
really. I plan, you plan, we plan."
Tara glanced at her watch. "We've got to run if we
want some coffee before class. You stick to half-caf.
The last time you got a full shot I had to peel you
off the ceiling of the library, and I know your chem
prof still thinks you'd been synthesizing something
naughty."
Willow looked hard at Tara's face. She was changing
the subject, and, being Tara, wasn't very good at it.
Willow sighed. Cramps, fitful sleep last night,
waking up with a cranky vampire making her obscene and
probably illegal propositions, and now a girlfriend
with a Problem. A Problem She Wasn't Talking About.
Sometimes she wondered if the mayor hadn't been doing
them all a favor, really. Ascensions, Apocalypses,
Harvests -- those Willow knew how to handle. Everyday
life remained a mystery.
Part 7
Confident that Tara would tell her what was bothering
her as soon as she was ready, Willow squeezed her
lover's hand affectionately. "Half-caf it is, Tara.
But you know you are the only one that I'd drink that
disgusting stuff for!"
Tara returned the squeeze, her face brightening. "And
they dare say that chivalry is dead."
Glad to see a smile on her face, Willow released her
hand to motion toward her room. "Let me just drop my
shower stuff off and grab my shoes and books, and then
we'll make with the coffee and the class."
The blonde nodded, the smile already fading as her
eyes flicked to Willow's door and then back to her
own. "Um, I f-forgot something in my room anyway.
I'll meet you here...in the hall."
Relieved that she wouldn't have to find a way to keep
Tara out of her room, Willow watched her walk away.
As much as she hated keeping secrets from Tara, the
knowledge that she wouldn't have to keep it much
longer helped to ease the guilt. She was going to let
everyone know what Spike had asked her to do later in
the day.
Waiting until Tara was out of sight, Willow quickly
opened the door to her room, slid in, and closed it
behind her, locking it. Spike was lounging on her
bed, head propped up on his hand, and a sly smile on
his face. Willow hated that smile.
"Ooh, and when did you take to locking vampires in
your room, pet?" he sneered, wagging his brows at her.
Willow ignored him as she tossed her dirty clothes in
a hamper in the corner then went to put away her
makeup and toiletry bags.
"I have to go to class, Spike. You can stay here, if
you want," she offered, grabbing her bag off the back
of the desk chair.
"Not much of a choice. Guess I could try to run about
town under a blanket or such, but I quite like your
room...especially the bed."
"Um, and thanks for staying hidden. Tara's upset
enough, and I don't want her to misunderstand
everything. I'll explain it all to her later."
Spike pursed his lips, watching as she scampered about
the room, gathering her bits and pieces and
systematically trying to ignore him at the same time.
"Sure you will, pet. Sure you will. Now, how about
that offer of mine?" he asked, sitting up.
"Offer?" Willow asked absentmindedly as she went about
shoving her books into her bookbag.
"You know...the little matter of your womanly
curse...my hunger...you scratch my back, and I'll
scratch your, er, --"
Willow shook her head as she chewed on her lower lips,
still glancing about the room "There will be no
scratching of backs or anything else. I'll just let
Playtex and extra-strength Midol do their job."
While not surprised by her answer, Spike was a little
disappointed. For a moment earlier that morning, it
had almost appeared that she'd been considering his
offer. At least until they'd been so rudely
interrupted.
"Not as much fun, if you ask me. Wouldn't have
thought you to be such a prude."
That got Willow's attention, and she turned to take a
few steps closer to the vampire. "Prude? Hello!
Alternative-lifestyler here, remember?"
Spike only chucked. "Oh yeah...you are such a rebel,
Red. So brave of you to walk around, holding her hand
like you do. Way to rock civilization as we know it.
Gurl power!" he mocked, raising a pale fist in the
air.
Annoyed but in too big of a hurry to get drawn into a
verbal battle, Willow didn't respond. She simply
rolled her eyes as she quickly slid into her favorite
pair of sneakers.
Undaunted, Spike got to his feet and tried again.
"You know, you two wouldn't even be together if it
wasn't for me. And have I even heard a thank you?
Not bloody likely."
"You want me to thank you for trying to come between
all of us and get us all killed?"
"Well, I was thinking more about the end result.
Because of me, you and your little 'special friend'
can now make googly eyes at each other around the rest
of your do-gooding lot. You were too spineless to
even tell the Slayer that you'd switched teams."
Spike's smile turned truly lascivious as Willow shot
him a dirty look. "Oh, hold on! After the way you
woke me up this morning, I take it you're more of a
switch hitter, if I understand my American baseball
analogies correctly."
Willow went back to her desk, grabbed her bag, hefting
it over her shoulder. "It's been fun, Spike, but I
really have to meet Tara."
Spike stepped in front of the door just as she reached
for the doorhandle to make her escape.
"Spike, please...I have to go..."
The vampire leaned in closer, his cold blue eyes
piercing her wide green ones, and Willow held her
breath. Chip or no chip, she didn't take Spike's
dangerousness for granted.
"I *need* blood, pet," he informed her in a very
deliberate tone.
"I only have one class today, but it's chem lab, so it
lasts a couple of hours. After that, I'll get you
some blood and bring it back to you about noon, okay?"
"Not good enough, pet. I'm hungry, and I'm hungry
now. Want me to open that door and tell your blonde
twin all about our little slumber party last night?
Especially about the manner in which we woke up?
Better than a bloody alarm clock, I'll give you that
much."
Willow held her ground and even managed to glare at
him, in spite of her nervousness.
Spike leaned even closer until his lips were even with
her ear, relishing the sounds of her quickened
breaths. Slowly, he used one long finger to tuck a
few wavy locks behind her ear, then whispered silkily,
"So, can I expect that blood in the next half hour?
AB negative preferably?"
Willow waited until he pulled back and could see her
face.
"Are you done?" she asked, her voice surprisingly
calm.
"I don't know, are we, pet?" he retorted, his eyes
quickly skimming the line of her collarbone, neck,
lips, then ending hungrily back on her eyes.
Willow took a deep breath and squared her shoulders
bravely. "I have class, Spike. After class I'll
bring you some blood. You'll be happy with what you
get and when you get it. Want to know why? Because
you are the one asking me for a favor." She waited
until Spike quirked a surprised brow before
continuing. "You want a soul? Then get away from the
door and let me go to class. Afterwards I'll get the
supplies I need and your blood."
Spike's eyes narrowed at her show of defiance, but
Willow didn't budge. Finally, Spike took a small step
to the side, just enough for Willow to unlock the door
and turn the knob. Unfortunately, in order to squeeze
through the door, she had to brush up against Spike,
just as he'd planned.
"Hurry back, luv. Maybe I'll take a nap so you can
wake me up again in your own special way."
Willow slammed the door, leaving Spike alone. He stood
there for a moment, replaying the whole thing in his
mind. "My, my," he muttered aloud, "the little witch
must have conjured herself up a backbone along the
way..." Taking a few steps into the middle of what
was going to be his prison for the next few hours,
Spike laughed to himself as he looked around,
"'Course, knowing her damned awful track record, it
would have been a bloody accident."
***
Hand-in-hand and sipping their rapidly cooling cups of
coffee, Tara and Willow walked across the campus
toward their class at Spivey Hall. They hadn't had
much of a chance to talk on the walk over since they
kept running into people they knew, and in the end
they'd had to order their coffees to go.
Tara glanced guiltily over at Willow then back to the
path in front of them. "I'm s-sorry about last night,
Willow. I shouldn't have...said those things..."
Willow squeezed her girlfriend's hand before bringing
it to her mouth and placing a gentle kiss on the soft
skin just above her fingers. "It's already forgotten,
Tara."
"It's just that it's about the only thing I have of my
mother's. And when I thought I'd lost it..."
"Oh, it's okay, Tara," she said in her most reassuring
voice. "I understand. I'm that way with a few things
myself....especially my Star Wars collectible glasses
and my autographed picture of William Shatner."
When Tara quirked an eyebrow, Willow added in a rush,
"Not that any of those can compare to your mom's book,
but...Shatner's autograph is kinda hard to get, and I
spent more than a year looking for a decent Darth
Vader glass....Stupid people don't realize that
running them through a dishwasher ruins them..."
"Then I guess you do understand," Tara sweetly teased
in return.
Suddenly Willow stopped, bringing Tara to an abrupt
halt as well. Her eyes wide, Willow turned to face
the blonde. "Do you know what last night was?"
Tara's brows knitted together in thought. "Um,
Thursday...half-moon...Virgo was in the--"
"No, it was our first fight, Tara!" Willow said
enthusiastically, her green eyes glistening.
Tara's smile was more hesitant. "Yeah, I guess it
was..."
"And look at us today!" she exclaimed, still grinning
madly. "We're holding hands,
walking...talking...everything's back to normal. I
mean, how mature are we?"
"Yeah," Tara agreed, her smile growing. "Good for
us!"
Willow leaned in to give Tara a quick, soft kiss.
"Just shows you how strong our love is," she said
softly, before pulling away.
Tara smiled, and Willow saw the love in her eyes as
they hurried on their way to class.
***
Spike was bored. He tried to sleep but couldn't...the
bed still smelled faintly of Willow and blood, which
only served to heighten his hunger. Desperate for
something to do to take his mind off of food, the
Slayer, and the impending retrieval of his soul, Spike
eventually started to kill time by poking around a
bit. Since he'd already seen the witch's closet and
the Technicolor horror of a wardrobe that she kept
there, that left the drawers to be rifled through
next. Unfortunately, Spike soon learned that those
weren't much more interesting. More horrendous
colors, fluffy sweaters, and childish T-shirts all
perfectly folded and neatly arranged.
Disappointed at the lack of lace and leather that he
could use to embarrass the redhead with later, Spike
moved on to the desk, and then the bookshelves.
Volume upon volume of spell books, mystical
compendiums and the like...other dull textbooks
covering everything from acting to computer
programming. His finger trailed along the spines on
the next row down, picking one book out every now and
then to glance through it.
"Ah, nothing but the classics for Red, I
see...Thoreau, Shakespeare, Hemingway, Wilde, ...And
of course, Bronte and Emily Dickinson." He snorted
disdainfully. "Figures. Doubt if any of them have
ever had a good lay, including Red."
No longer in the mood to read, Spike flopped back down
on the bed in bored disgust. Seeing his boot on the
floor by the bed, a wicked smile flashed briefly
across his features at the pained expression the
little blonde's face had worn earlier when she'd noted
his boots and the disheveled bed. The grin was
quick-lived though, because it wasn't enough...she
hadn't bled, she hadn't fainted or run screaming from
the room, she hadn't even shed a tear. Angry that he
had to resort to merely making little girls flinch and
that he had to wait for the curse to fix all of his
problems, Spike violently shoved on his battered boot.
He wanted to kick something.
After haphazardly lacing it up, he leaned way down to
grab the one that was half under the bed, and that's
when he saw it. A piece of paper where no piece of
paper should be, considering how tidy the red-headed
witch was. Retrieving it from under the bed, Spike
slid down to the floor and made himself comfortable by
leaning back against the mattress before looking at
it. It looked like a page from a journal or a
notebook, and he quickly skimmed over the flowery
handwriting -
'I had the dream again...the exact same one, even down
to the details of what they were both wearing. She's
so happy, so beautiful. Happier than I've ever seen
her, but it's not me. It's him... But that's
impossible...he can't make her happy...not like he is.
So that's how I know it's just a dream, no matter how
many times I've dreamt it. It can't come true,
because he's not capable...he could never make her
happy like that.'
Spike read over the scrap several times, but it didn't
make much sense to him. He was just about to toss it
in the rubbish bin when a thought occurred to him.
He quickly compared it to some notes of Willow's that
were sitting on her desk, only to find that the
handwriting didn't match.
"Must be what the blonde chit was looking for, which
is all the more reason to keep it, isn't it?" he asked
the empty room as he shoved the piece of paper in the
front pocket of his jeans. "Best keep this in a safe
place...hate for it to fall in the wrong hands."
Spurred on by the possibility of more interesting
finds, Spike poked around a bit more, but still found
nothing. "Must keep all her interesting knickers and
girlie toys over at the stutterer's," he grumbled.
"Pity."
But now Spike's mind was in motion.
If the bit of paper and all the cryptic comments
belonged to the little blonde chit, then it probably
came from a diary of sorts. Dru had kept a diary, not
that he could ever make heads or tails of that either.
Come to think of it...didn't all girls keep diaries?
"Now wouldn't that spot of reading make an interesting
way to pass the time?" he muttered, glancing about the
room. But where would she hide it?
That's when he saw it. Her computer.
Though far from a computer whiz, Spike knew his way
around modern technology. And luckily Willow made it
simple. There it was, right on the main screen for
all to see. Along with a dozen others was a little
folder icon marked 'Diary'.
Things were looking up. "Morning might not be so dull
after all."
He clicked on the folder to open it, but instead of
finding juicy details, he was instead presented with a
box demanding, 'PASSWORD'.
Damn.
How hard could it be? Willow was hardly a complex
creature.
He quickly typed 'T-a-r-a'.
INVALID PASSWORD.
Spike frowned but was undaunted. Next he tried,
'B-u-f-f-y'.
INVALID PASSWORD.
'X-a-n-d-e-r'.
INVALID PASSWORD.
'S-c-o-o-b-y-G-a-n-g'.
INVALID PASSWORD.
With both his frustration and his curiosity growing,
Spike tried 'puppies,' wicca,' 'witchcraft,'
'lesbian,' 'bitch,' and every other derogatory word he
could think of, but the result was always the same:
'INVALID PASSWORD'.
After more than a half-hour of this, Spike was about
ready to throw the whole blasted computer out the
window when he had one more idea.
With a sly, egotistical grin, he typed, 'S-p-i-k-e'.
INVALID PASSWORD.
"Bloody...fucking...hell..." he growled, jumping up
from the desk and sending the chair sailing across the
room with one kick.
Finding a last squashed cigarette in the pocket of his
duster, Spike leaned against the wall, trying to calm
himself. Knowing he should give up but not wanting to
admit defeat, he glanced about her room as he smoked,
hoping for some clues to a possible password.
As his eyes brushed over her comfortable bed, memories
of his wake up call drew a long growl from deep within
him. Then his thoughts drifted even further back, to
the witch's behavior the night before.
...'I didn't do a thing for Angelus...I don't care
what he told you'...
Spike stood up straight, the cigarette dangling
precariously from his lips.
"Nah...it couldn't be that..."
Grabbing the desk chair, Spike stalked back to the
computer. He dropped the chair in front of the desk,
spun it around and straddled it, leaning forward
against it's slatted back.
Staring at the screen, Spike flicked his ashes on the
wooden floor before taking a deep drag and letting the
smoke slowly billow from between his lips.
With a single finger, Spike painstakingly typed,
'A-n-g-e-l-u-s' and hit enter.
The blonde vampire's face lit up, both with an
anticipatory grin and from the reflection of the
computer screen. It was filled with dated files that
stretched back for several years.
"Well, well, Red. You're a bit of a dark horse,
aren't you? Now, let's just see what you're all
about, shall we?"
Part 8
Willow and Tara walked in companionable silence the
rest of the way, simply holding hands and enjoying the
sunshine and the contact between them. Willow reveled
in the feeling of her girlfriend walking beside her.
It was a nice feeling, having someone to walk beside
you, not in front of you or behind you, but beside
you.
Only that very feeling of equality and togetherness
had started a little bit of guilt to begin eating away
at her. She hadn’t liked keeping Spike’s presence
from Tara and she hadn’t liked lying to her. An equal
relationship wasn’t built on lies, but on trust. She
needed to trust that Tara would understand this
situation and the position that Willow found herself
in. So by the time it came for each of them to go
their separate ways, Willow to her Chem Lab and Tara
to English Lit., Willow had already come to a
decision.
Before Tara could release her hand, Willow tugged the
other girl over to one of the benches that lined the
main walkway that lead into the campus quad. It was
out of the flow of traffic and the huge flowering tree
behind it offered the illusion of quiet privacy.
Settling down on the bench, Tara turned with a
slightly puzzled expression on her face. “Willow?
What’s wrong?”
Only now that the moment was upon her, Willow wasn’t
exactly sure what she should say here. Telling her
girlfriend, “Oh, by the way, Spike, an evil vampire,
spent the night with me and he wants me to return his
soul” just didn’t seem to be covered by Emily Post or
Miss Manners. What she really needed, she decided,
was a Martha Stewart special on vampires. Then again,
she vaguely suspected that Martha herself might be a
demon, or at the very least a half demon. It would
explain a lot.
Best just to jump in and get it over with. "Tara, I
need to tell you something and I’m not exactly sure
how to explain it.”
Tara, figuring that Willow was about to confess about
Spike being in her room, gave her an encouraging
smile. “Willow, you can tell me anything. You know
that.”
“I know, but this isn’t exactly the best time to tell
you this, and . . . and there probably won’t be a best
time to tell you this.” Realizing she was rambling,
Willow made an effort to get back on course. “I know
you don’t really like to get involved with the whole
Slayer/ Hellmouth/ Vampire business . . . and I
completely understand that. I do.” Willow hastened to
add. “But Spike, who I realize is not exactly your
favorite vampire, especially after he hit you, has
asked me to give him his soul back.”
Tara felt something very much like ice water run down
her spine, as the warmth and beauty of the day gave
way to fear. “H-he wants you to g-give him his soul?”
she stuttered.
Willow, caught up in her own concerns about giving
Spike his soul, didn’t notice Tara’s suddenly pale
complexion. “Yes, a soul. I mean, you weren’t there
for the whole souled, unsouled, resouling of Angel, so
it doesn’t mean a whole lot to you, but a souled
vampire is different. And I’ve sorta promised him
that I would.” Willow shook her head, her expression
one of exasperation. “Although, I’m not really sure
that I should . . . if you know what I mean."
Tara, her fear turning to panic, jumped to her feet,
unable to sit still any longer. She wanted to run
away from this. This couldn’t be happening. It
couldn’t. She wouldn’t let it. She loved Willow.
Willow loved her.
Willow took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and
finally caught the look of apprehension in Tara wide
eyes and thinking that her girlfriend was afraid for
her, she hastened to reassure her.
Willow stood and took her lover’s twisting hands in
her own, trying to soothe the other girl. “Tara, it’s
okay. I’ve done the spell before. It's not
dangerous. Well, I don't think it's dangerous,” she
added with a small frown that quickly smoothed out
when Tara jumped at the word dangerous. “But don’t
worry, since I’ve done it before I know I can get this
one right. And, well, I just wanted you to know. I've
got to get everyone together tonight at the Magic Box
and let them know what Spike wants. But I wanted to
tell you first.”
Pushing her own unease about the thing down, Willow
added, "I mean, this might be the best thing for
everyone involved. You know?"
Just then a distance bell sounded, sending the
students that had been milling around the walkways
scurrying off to find classes. Willow, seeing the
mass exodus, grabbed up her own backpack from where it
leaned against the bench. “Tara, I’ve got to go, but
we’ll talk later. I’ll explain everything then. Trust
me. It’ll be fine. Maybe it’s all suppose to be this
way . . . like fate or something.” Dropping a quick
kiss to Tara’s lips, Willow turned to sprint towards
her lab building.
Tara was left standing in the suddenly deserted quad,
her mind running in circles. Forgotten was the warmth
of the sun and the electric blue of the sky above her.
She could only see her dream, the one that repeated
over and over until she could see their faces and
their clothes and the way they touched. She could
hear their laughter, its sound rich and encompassing .
. . but only of the two of them. Not her. Fate,
Willow had said. Not fate. She loved her. He
couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Fate could be changed. Fate
could be averted. It had been a warning. A warning
for her.
Turning her face up towards the sun whose warmth
seemed so distant now, Tara fought back the tears that
stung her eyes. “Please” she begged “I l-love her. I
can’t lose her.”
Grabbing her own books, Tara headed towards her own
class in a daze. She got as far as the steps to Haley
Center before she collapsed. Thirty minutes later,
she was still there, her backpack clutched tightly to
her chest, a shield against the world around her.
Students and faculty had milled around her but she was
oblivious to their movement. She was lost in a dream
turned nightmare until she remembered a piece of
missing paper with a half-scrawled dream across it.
“Oh, God, Spike!”
Lurking to her feet, Tara ran.
*****
Across campus, Spike frowned slightly as he
contemplated the computer before him. The information
lined up neatly across the screen represented
literally years of Willow’s life. And from what he
could tell from the dates, she’d written with
surprising consistency. Why did he have to find the
one person who actually wrote in their diary?
Drusilla had only recorded the really good stuff when
she’d been keeping hers. Figures the little witch
would be compulsive about writing everything down.
Gingerly maneuvering the mouse over to one of the
scroll bars, he cruised down the screen. There were
hundreds of entries. How in the bloody hell was he
supposed to find anything good and juicy in this?
He’d be here forever.
Clicking on a file at random, an entry appeared on the
screen.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Feb 16, 1995
Xander and Jessi came to my rescue again today.
Sometimes I wonder why we abandoned the “I Hate
Cordelia Club.” Harmony and Cordelia, they are like
two vipers. What exactly did I do to earn their
contempt?
The worst part, even when defending me, Xander still
couldn’t take his eyes off Harmony and that short
skirt of hers. I think he was drooling.
One day I wish he’d look at me like that. And while
I’m wishing, one day I wish I didn’t have to be
rescued. One day, I’m going to stand up and fight.
Won’t they all be surprised then?
Who am I kidding?
Willow
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Spike groaned at the adolescent angst of the post.
“This is what you were like?” he asked the screen. He
quickly backed out of the screen only to be confronted
with the endless list of dated entries again.
There had to be a better way to go through this thing.
Flicking more ashes onto the floor, Spike began
clicking on the buttons across the top the screen.
“Eureka!” he crowed, as a search window popped up on
the screen. “Now we can get down to business.”
The question became though, what did he want to search
for? He wanted to know if Buffy had mentioned him.
Surely, the Slayer would have confessed her real
feelings to her best friend. She may be lying to him
but she’d tell Willow the truth. There might be
things here that could help him in his fight to get
the Slayer to acknowledge the way she felt about him.
And then there was that tantalizing mention of
Angelus. Why was he the girl’s password? There was
some deep, dark secret there that pulled at him.
Decisions, decisions. Oh well, he had plenty of time.
True love first over the dark and potentially nasty.
Grinning to himself, Spike carefully typed his own
name into the search criteria box and hit the enter
key.
The machine whirled for a second before the list on
the screen jumped and an entry appeared. The word
“Spike” was highlighted in a contrasting color.
Scanning the entry he quickly realized it was Willow’s
version of what happened the night he had attacked the
High School. “My My,” he muttered as he read. “So
that was you in the closet that night. To think, Red,
you were almost dinner that night. But, as
fascinating as this is, I’m looking for something a
little juicier.”
Closing the entry he went back to the search bar and
hit the ‘Next’ button and waited as the machine
continued its search.
The sound of the key in the lock was his only warning.
He didn’t even have time to slam the laptop closed
before meeting the gaze of the panting witch standing
in the doorway.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, depending on how
you looked at it, it wasn’t the right witch.
Remarkably enough, he found he could track every
emotion across the little blonde chit’s face . . .
fear, chased by anger, followed quickly by, he was
amused to note, determination.
Dropping the backpack to the ground at her feet, Tara
took a step into the room. She was breathing hard
from her run across campus and had trouble getting her
words out. “G-Get away from Willow’s computer,” Tara
demanded.
Spike grinned maliciously, impressed when the girl
didn’t back away but came further into the room. Gods
above and below, but he missed the days when he could
cause fear in humans with but a glance.
Turning leisurely back to the computer, he ignored the
girl and went back to his reading. He was taken
completely back surprise when a trembling hand slammed
the laptop closed.
He growled softly before he stood up, eyes glinting
gold. “What do you know,” he said, “seems there was a
two-for-one special on backbones. There was a time
when I would have ripped yours out for that.”
Backbone, indeed. Her entire body was trembling now,
but she still stood her ground.
Spike leaned forward, directly into the Tara’s face,
his eyes inches from hers. “What are you gonna do,
blondie? Goin’ to tell Red I was playing on her
computer?”
“I’m not afraid of you. You can’t hurt me. You can’t
do anything.”
“What makes you think I have to be the one to hurt
you? A word here, a payment there . . . that’s all it
would take.”
Tara finally took a few steps backward, putting
distance between them. Spike licked his lips as the
scent of her fear rose. That’ll teach her. No one
threatened him. No one was going to come between him
and getting Red to give him back his soul. Certainly
not this little slip of nothing.
But Tara wasn’t done. “Willow told me what you want.
She won’t love you. You won’t make her happy. You’re
not good enough for her . . . even with a soul.”
And Spike’s rage ignited. With a roar, he threw
himself across the small space between them, his only
intent to rend and tear. His roar of rage however
turned into an agonized scream of pain as the chip
launched an all-out assault on his nervous system.
Spike and Tara both went down in a tangle of flailing
limbs. Only Tara climbed unsteadily to her feet
though as the vampire writhed helplessly on the
ground.
Tara fled.
Spike, cocooned in agony, curled into himself. How
dare she say that he wasn’t good enough for Buffy?
How dare the girl judge him? Buffy would love him.
She would.
Part 9
Willow had dropped her backpack and was standing
outside the dorm door fumbling for her key when she
realized that she still had an involuntary guest. Who
loved picking fights. She'd done enough emotional
heavy lifting for today. No more sulky vampires, no
more brooding girlfriends -- oh, God, Angel was coming
and she hadn't warned Buffy. Maybe she could just not
tell Buffy. Oh, right, that would work, because they
were both so good at avoiding each other. Great.
Willow sighed, picked up her backpack, walked back
down the stairs, and headed for Revello Drive. This
was not the sort of news you handed out over the
phone. She began trying out openings in her mind.
"Buffy? I'm going to give Spike back his soul. No,
no, I'm serious. Yes, the Spike who just tied you up
and tried to feed you to Drusilla." Right. That'll
be a big hit.
"Buffy? Um, isn't Spike a total nuisance? Wouldn't
you like me to fix that? Great! Oh, and you probably
should leave town for a bit, because I've invited your
ex-boyfriend, the one you still haven't gotten over,
to help me out. " Perfect. Would you like a side
order of pain with that agony?
"Buffy? Don't ask me why, but could you stay away
from Spike's crypt for a couple of days? Because, you
really don't want to know why, and I've already had
two arguments today, and Giles won't like it either
..."
Giles. Willow stopped dead in the middle of the
sidewalk and got thwacked from behind by a stroller.
She ignored the dirty look as the stroller-pusher
detoured around her.
Oh, God, Giles. She was going to need an Orb of
Thessulah. She *had* had two of everything in her
spellbox. Unfortunately, Xander had dropped it during
her last move, and there'd been a nasty tinkle from
inside. Which meant she had to go Orb-shopping. And
there was one magic shop in town. Which was owned by
Giles. And operated by Anya. And if either of them
found out she was buying an Orb, all Hell would break
loose.
Actually, she knew what to do about Hell breaking
loose. She did not know how to handle Giles, Anya,
and Buffy all screaming at her at once. Which was
what would happen. If she was really really lucky,
Xander would show up and join in. They'd all be out
for her blood.
Oh, God, blood. For Spike. She'd promised to get him
blood after the chem lab. Which she hadn't. And he
was going to be cranky. Just like Buffy, and Xander,
and Anya, and Giles, and probably Angelus --No. Not
him.-- Angel would be cranky too, and it was going to
be Let's All Yell At Willow Day, and she'd never been
any good at anger, really.
"If I were a drinking person, this would be the day
for it. Maybe I should start."
Whichever way she looked at it, a trip to Willie's
seemed inevitable.
####
Willie's didn't improve by daylight. Not that
daylight ever got in -- after all, Willie's clientele
was allergic -- but Willie turned more fluorescents on
in the day, and the effect wasn't good. Without the
nighttime throng of semi-human patrons, it was all too
easy to see the dingy barstools, the dirty walls, and
the general sleaze and decay. Willow detoured around a
particularly ugly floor stain that she hoped, but
wasn't entirely sure, wasn't blood and walked up to
the bar. Willie glared at her. "No humans. No
Slayer's tattletales. Get out."
Willow sighed. Wouldn't it be nice, just once, to
deal with somebody who wasn't upset? She should have
cast her own, real horoscope, not the pasteurized
nonsense in the newspaper. She just bet it would have
read "Stay in bed with the covers pulled over your
head." Except that there'd been a vampire in the bed.
Trying to pull himself over her head, or points
south...
Willie's glare hadn't changed.
She had to do something to make him cooperate. Buffy
always beat him up. That wasn't an option. Xander
usually bribed him. Willow dug into her jeans pocket.
Student Union card, $1.57 left over from the coffee
shop, a few crumbled lavender buds, and some lint.
"Hey, Willie, want some magic pocket lint?" Oh, that
would work.
Willie was still glaring and pointedly wiping the
countertop, using a rag that looked nastier than the
bar itself.
"Um... Need some information?" Was that her voice?
Willie snorted. "You're going to sell out the
slayer?"
Willow shuddered involuntarily and hoped he hadn't
noticed. Never. Never again. "Hardly. You don't
betray your sources, I don't betray mine. But I do
know some things we might find mutually profitable."
Willie cocked an eyebrow. "Where she hunts? What
she's planning? What she looks like naked? That one
would be worth a bit."
Willow stepped back. "You're -- really sleazy, you
know that? I SAID I wouldn't betray the Slayer. I
can sell my own knowledge. I'm an experienced witch,
I can do things, I can find things out. There's more
to me than just the Slayer's best friend."
Willie's leer grew more lascivious. "So I hear. You
want to set up a photo shoot? That blonde girlie of
yours is stacked, there might be a few buyers. Very
discreet."
Willow stepped back again, slipped -- oh, no, it was
blood, and still wet -- and recovered her balance.
When she met his eyes again, Willie was smirking.
Insight hit her like a double semi. Willie was doing
this on purpose. He wanted to get rid of her, and if
he couldn't threaten, he could gross her out the door.
And it was working.
She dug her hand back into her pocket, grabbed the
lavender, and threw it in his face. "Hear me, Dark
Powers!"
Now Willie stepped back. "No need for violence,
girlie."
She ignored him, barreling on, "Curse this bar and all
who--"
"Stop!" Willie was breathing hard. "Let's keep this
civilized. No need to bring in the Big Boys."
Meeting her glare, he amended, "Or Big Girls either.
Let's just keep this between old friends, eh?"
"Friends exchange favors, Willie. I haven't heard you
offering any."
"What do you want, witch?"
Hey, respect at last. "I need an Orb of Thessulah and
a pint of blood, any kind, no questions asked."
"Now you're doing threesomes with vampires? The
photos from that would definitely..."
"Shut up, Willie. Get me the blood and the Orb right
now , and I won't set a curse on your bar."
"What's in it for me?" He wasn't leering any more,
and his voice sounded whiny. Maybe this was working.
"Your clients don't start bursting into flames
unexpectedly? Your beer doesn't start tasting like
garlic?" A pang of conscience struck her. "Or I
could do something about the stains on the floor..."
If possible, Willie looked even more horrified. "No,
no, the last thing this place needs is a woman's
touch. What do you want to do, drive away the
customers?"
"I was hoping to avoid that option, but if you
insist..."
"Fine, fine, don't get huffy, chickie. I'll grab some
blood now. The Orb takes longer. Next week some
time."
"Tonight. Or your clients start hopping out the door
-- the ones who didn't start out as toads, that is."
Willie threw up his hands. "Fine, tonight. Don't
stop by, I'll have it delivered."
"Thanks, but I don't think so. I'll send someone by
to pick it up." And she knew just the right
"someone", too. Spike could darned well do some of
his own legwork. His own bloody legwork. With a
scoop of "damn" on top.
"The blood? Now? I'm waiting.... And so are the Dark
Powers..."
Willie reached under the bar, grabbed a nasty-looking
carton, hefted it as if to throw it, then
reconsidered and plonked it on the bar. "Now leave.
And don't come back."
Willow collected the carton and sauntered out the
door. Score one for Magic Pocket Lint.
Part 10
With the container of blood sloshing sickeningly in
her backpack, Willow headed away from Willie's and
toward her dorm. Have to feed the vampire! After a
step or two she stopped, changed directions and headed
for Buffy's house. Have to warn Buffy about Angel!
After a few steps she stopped, changed directions and
headed for The Magic Box. Have to tell the gang about
Spike! Then she just stopped.
Surprisingly enough, she was standing directly in
front of Willie's. Again.
Willow groaned. Loitering in front of Willie's with a
carton of blood was probably not the safest pastime in
Sunnydale, even during the day. What she needed was a
plan. Plans she could do. After all, Research Girl
is synonymous with Plan Girl, isn't it? First, list
everything you need to accomplish, then come up with
the most logical way to meet those goals. Well, she
needed to warn Buffy about Angel coming to town.
Definitely. She needed to get the blood to Spike
before he destroyed her room. Definitely. She needed
to tell the others her plan to give Spike his soul.
Definitely...well, maybe...okay, maybe not...no,
definitely...
"Forget Research Girl," she mumbled to herself, trying
to ignore the strange looks she got from a couple of
'men' entering the bar. "They should call me
Indecision Girl. Able to leap to absolutely no
conclusions in a half-dozen bounds!"
Oh yeah. Forgot. Buffy's Plan Girl; I'm the perky
sidekick.
First things first, she decided. Blood to Spike.
Angel wasn't due in town until sometime tomorrow, so
telling Buffy could wait a few hours. Then, to tell
the rest or not to tell the rest. That was the
question. She had to tell them. She'd already told
Tara about Spike and that she was going to let
everyone else know tonight at The Magic Box. Willow
sighed. Really, she'd already made that decision for
herself the moment she'd told Tara.
So, it was decided. First feed the starving vamp,
second warn The Slayer about impending old-boyfriend
meetage and the Spike issue. Then--if she survived
Buffy, that is--head for The Magic Box and tell the
rest. Oh, and then actually do the spell/curse. It
was a plan. Plans were good, at least in general.
***
Back at her dorm, Willow took a deep breath and stuck
the key in her door. Turning it, she was surprised to
find it unlocked, and when she opened the door, it was
to an empty room.
"Already the plot, my plan, is ruined," she grumbled,
taking a look around the vacant room. Disgruntled at
the vampire's rudeness, Willow shoved the carton of
blood into her mini-fridge before it could congeal.
She glanced around. Everything looked normal. Spike
hadn't redecorated in vampire chic while she was gone,
so that was something anyway. Taking the opportunity
while she was alone to grab the ingredients for the
spell out of her trunk, Willow put them in her
backpack--everything but the broken orbs. That done,
Willow flopped wearily on the bed, thinking an hour
nap would be a good thing before the various
complications that were to fill the rest of her day
took place. Besides, since Spike ruined her plan, she
figured she had an hour to spare--the time she'd
allotted to explaining his little chore and watching
him swill down his blood. She had just set the alarm
clock to wake her in an hour and closed her eyes, when
the door flew open. In sauntered a wet and presumably
naked Spike, draped only in her favorite royal blue
towel, and carrying her shower caddy.
Willow shot out of bed, already averting her eyes.
"Spike!"
Kicking the door closed behind him with one bare foot,
Spike hardly looked at her. "So, you're back finally,
I see. Bloke could have starved to death with your
kind of service. Hope your not expecting a tip."
Spike was pleased with himself. Considering he was a
bit heavy on the self-loathing side of the emotional
scale at the moment, not to mention starved, he
sounded fairly calm. The vampire had no idea how long
he'd stayed on the floor, curled up in a ball after
the blonde bitch had left. But by the time he'd
gotten himself together, he was no longer in the mood
to play detective with Willow's computer. He just
needed the pain to stop, and he needed to take a
shower. Not wanting to give Willow any reason to
change her mind, the vampire had shut the computer
down, leaving it as he'd found it. After snooping a
bit more, Spike had come across her bath supplies and
set out to look for the showers. Now that she was
back, Spike was thankful that he hadn't continued
snooping only to be caught.
"Um, Spike--"
"Back in bed so soon?" he asked hungrily, noting the
blood rushing to the redhead's face. "Kiss that good,
was it?" he jeered.
"Spike. You're naked. Really, really naked." She
doubted that would come as a surprise to the vampire,
but she thought it was worth pointing out.
"Find it's easier to get clean without the clothes.
Uses less soap, too," he reminded her in a
matter-of-fact tone. Then he dropped her caddy of
shampoo and the like, sliding them out of the way and
into a corner with a good kick.
Willow dared another quick glance, but the vampire was
simply standing in the middle of her room, although
the towel seemed to have slipped a bit. Lowering her
eyes, she plopped back down on the bed, keeping her
line of vision firmly planted on her feet.
"But...well...you're a--"
"Did you think vampires don't bathe? We may be dead,
but we still have personal hygiene. We're vampires
not zombies."
Suddenly there was a blue towel at her feet. Which
could only mean...
...a completely naked Spike.
Clenching her eyes shut, Willow shifted around on her
bed so that she was facing the wall, her back to the
nude vamp. "Oh, well, I didn't think your crypt had
running water. So few cemeteries have all the, er,
modern conveniences these days," she chuckled
nervously.
"Well, then it's a good thing I'm resourceful, eh?"
Spike finally noticed that the girl had changed
positions so that she didn't have to look at him.
"Anyone ever told you it's dangerous to turn your back
on a vampire? Not to mention, plain rude?" he asked.
Any other day he would have been furious that the
redhead thought so little of his demonic tendencies to
turn her back on him, but not today. During the very
long shower, he'd come to the conclusion that it was
best not to think about it...any of it. After all, if
he didn't think about it, then he wouldn't have to
worry about Willow's ability to perform the spell or
the actual consequences of his being resouled. Best
not to think about anything at all.
"Did anyone ever tell you it's rude to stand in a
girl's room naked? Well, unless she asked you to. Or
use her peaches-n-cream-scented body bath and loofah
without permission?"
Smirking, Spike grabbed his neatly folded clothes off
the desk chair. "Guess we're both rebels then, eh,
Red?"
Willow shook her head at the strangeness of it all.
"Um, did anyone see you?"
"Lots of people saw me. Can't see that it matters.
This is one of those modern boy-girl dorms, isn't it?"
Willow slowly opened her eyes at the sound of rustling
material, relieved that he seemed to finally be
getting dressed. "Yeah, but...you don't live
here...well, you don't live anywhere, but especially
not here," she told the wall.
Spike zipped up his jeans. "Guests not allowed to
shower when they stay over? Strange rules."
"You are *not* my guest!" Willow reminded him, finally
turning back to face the vampire as he slipped the
black T-shirt over his head.
"You invited me in, invited me to stay, and then slept
with me. If I'm not a guest, what am I?"
"A lapse in judgement."
Spike grinned at her nerve. "You know, some little
cutie in the hall actually whistled at me. And I
distinctly heard someone else say 'Way to go Willow'
as I was coming back in your room. Seems someone
thinks we make a cute couple, witch"
"Couple of what?" she grumbled, not amused.
"Enough pillow talk," Spike said, his teasing manner
being driven away by hunger. "Where's dinner?"
Willow pointed to the small fridge in the corner.
Finding the carton, Spike eyed it curiously.
"Willies?" Willow nodded. "What kind?" Willow
shrugged. "What? You mean you didn't specify human?"
"You didn't specify human, you said 'get me blood'.
Spike stalked back across the room to loom over her.
"AB-negative preferably. Remember?" he growled.
Willow grimaced but did her best not to look
frightened. After all, he needed her help. "Oh, I
thought that was just some sort of vampire humor.
Sorry."
Spike sat down next to her on the bed, sniffing at the
container's contents and wrinkling his nose in
distaste. "You didn't test it first?"
"Test it?" she balked. "What was I going to do, send
a sample to the med-lab for analysis? It's...you
know...blood colored. Passes the Willow Rosenberg
test for pain-in-the-ass-vampire food."
Spike took a careful taste, quickly determining that
it was cow's blood. Not human but better than pig.
"Do you have to sit next to me while you drink your
dinner?" Willow whined, shifting further away from him
on the bed.
Spike lifted a scarred brow. "My, my...aren't we
testy today," he chuckled after another big and
purposely-noisy gulp. He made sure to slurp as much
as possible then smacked his lips.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, rolling her eyes at his
childish behavior. "Am I not being polite enough for
you?"
"So, do all witches have super-strength PMS, or just
you, Red?" he teased. He was already feeling much
better after only a few sips of the blood.
Willow scowled at him, wishing he'd just go away.
"Why are you in such a good mood, Spike?"
"Why are you in such a foul mood, pet?"
"I asked you first!"
"And I'll walk around in the hall naked and declaring
my heterosexual love for you if you don't spit it
out," Spike countered.
Willow sighed, giving in. It wasn't that she cared
what others thought about her sex life, she just had
other things on her mind, and since they concerned
Spike anyway...
"I don't know what the others will say about giving
you your soul back, Spike. We have to tell them."
"Why?" he retorted. "None of their bloody business,
is it?" Spike glanced sideways at the girl on the
bed. He hoped he hadn't overestimated the witch. Not
only her ability to pull off the spell in the first
place without accidentally turning him into a newt,
but her conviction as well. It wasn't a good sign
that she was going to seek the other's permission.
"Well, I already told Tara this morning," she replied
flatly. "Besides, they deserve to know. I can't keep
a secret like this from them, and they're going to
have to find out sooner or later."
"You afraid the watcher will say 'no'?" he asked
carefully, his blue eyes narrowing as he studied her
response.
Willow shrugged. "I don't know what they'll say."
"What if they say 'no'.? What if someone tells you
not to do it?"
Willow turned to face him, wanting to show the vampire
that she was her own woman and could make her own
choices. "No one tells me what to do, Spike. This is
my decision. And yours. If you want this, I'll do
it. No matter what they say."
Spike was pleasantly surprised. "You'd go against
their wishes for me?"
"Not for you, Spike, but because it's the right thing
to do. No one should have to suffer. We don't go
around torturing demons, no matter how evil they are.
We kill them...as swiftly and humanely as possible,
too. If we can do that for demons--the really smelly,
non-human ones, why can't we do that for you?"
"They shoot horses, don't they?" Spike mumbled, his
good mood fading as reality began to break through his
shower-gel-induced fog.
"And I like horses, too" she added softly.
Silence settled between them as they each contemplated
what they were about to do.
"So, when and where, Pet?" Spike finally asked,
wishing like hell that he'd told her to get him a pack
of cigarettes as well. "Let's get this over with
already."
"Tonight, I guess," she told the vampire, simply to
set him at ease. She'd rather wait for Angel, but for
now it was more important just to tell the vampire
what he wanted to hear. She could always hide for a
day if she decided to wait...or claim that she was
missing some key ingredient. "Your place?"
"That'll do. Got the supplies?"
"I'll have them by tonight, but I need you to get
something for me." She took a deep breath then
blurted it out in one fast babble. "Willie's getting
the orb I need and I want you to pick it up for me
tonight at his place."
Amazingly enough, Spike understood her. "Me? Why me?
You're the witch...get your own crystal ball!"
"Yeah, you!" Willow replied forcefully, not in the
mood for his excuses. She had enough on her plate,
and all he had to do was stand there and get reunited
with his soul. Didn't seem fair. "Hey! You want a
soul, then you need to get off your, er, bloody bum
and help!"
"My bloody bum?" he repeated with a smirk.
"Look, Spike. I need to make sure you really want to
do this. If you can't even ask for the orb yourself,
or hold what will be the vessel for your soul in your
own hands, then I doubt that you're really capable of
handling what's to come," she said in all honesty.
Spike was quiet for a moment, then fixed her with a
quirky grin. "So, I have to get the ball to hold my
soul in order to prove to you that I have the balls to
have a soul?"
Before Willow knew it, she was laughing--holding her
belly and falling back on the bed laughing. And soon
Spike actually found himself chuckling at his own joke
as well.
"So, is it a plan?" she asked when she was able to
stop giggling.
"Sounds like one to me, Pet."
"Well, I guess I need to get going then, Spike," she
said, getting to her feet and grabbing her backpack.
"I'll see you later tonight...at your crypt."
"Be strong, Willow. Don't take any of their guff," he
suggested supportively.
"Right, no guff taking from Willow. Got it," she
responded, doing her best to look authoritative. "Oh,
that reminds me...take this." Willow rummaged around
in the outer pocket of her backpack, then handed Spike
a spare key. "Lock up when you leave, okay? I've got
some spell books in here that we wouldn't want someone
to get their hands on who doesn't know what they're
doing."
"As opposed to your hands, you mean?" he said
sardonically.
She rolled her eyes then headed for the door. "Just
lock it, Spike." Taking his smirk as agreement,
Willow left, shutting the door behind her.
Time for step two of her plan.
***
"Step two in my plan is ruined," Willow grumbled to
herself as she sat alone at a table in the Magic Box,
inventorying new arrivals of various rodent eyes.
"The least Buffy could do is have the decency to be at
home when I finally find the courage to tell her that
I've summoned her ex to town."
"What was that, Willow?" Giles asked, looking up from
his position behind the cash register.
"Oh, nothing," she replied, glancing at the door and
noticing that it was now dark outside. "I just wanted
to talk to Buffy, and I've been waiting here for
hours."
"Well, I'm sure she'll be along shortly. This is
about the time she normally arrives."
"Who normally arrives?" Buffy asked, strolling in.
Willow jumped up, not sure if she was relieved to see
her or not. "Buffy! You're here!"
The Slayer's grin faded somewhat. "Something wrong,
Willow?"
"Wrong? No! Why would anything be wrong? Can't I
just talk to my friend about every day things?
Weather? Homework? Angel? Without there being
something wrong?"
"Whoa...slow down there, Willow," Buffy laughed, but
the laugh quickly died. "Angel? What about Angel?"
"Um, well, maybe we can talk in the back room?"
Willow glanced at Giles, who'd overheard the whole
conversation and was regarding them curiously. "You
know...icky girl stuff," she told him, rolling her
eyes.
Giles coughed. "Well then, by all means--"
Before Giles could finish or Buffy could question her
further, Tara rushed through the front door. The
nearly out of breath girl headed directly for Willow,
grabbing her hand frantically. "W-willow, can I
t-talk to you in the back? You know, privately?" she
pleaded.
Willow gave her girlfriend an apologetic look. The
redhead really wanted to let Buffy know what was going
on now, then she'd be able to give Tara her full
attention for a while. "Please, can it wait for just
a minute Tara? I really need to--"
"No!" Tara insisted, shaking her head. "It can't
wait!" Without giving Willow a chance to protest,
Tara began to tug her firmly toward the training room.
"I'll be right back," Willow told both Buffy and Giles
over her shoulder. "I'll explain everything, I
promise. And don't worry, Buffy...Angel's fine..."
"What's wrong?" Willow demanded of the blonde witch
when they were finally alone.
Willow had barely gotten the words out before her
girlfriend spoke up. "You *can't* do this, Willow.
You j-just can't!"
"What? But-but I have to tell them. They should
know. I mean, yeah, I'm not looking forward to the
yelling, but--"
"No, I mean y-you can't give Spike back his s-soul."
"Oh," Willow said softly. Her eyes widened as her
confusion grew. "Why not?"
Tara turned away, trying to control the tears that
were threatening to blind her. She knew she couldn't
tell Willow the truth--about the dreams and that she
was afraid of losing her to Spike. "You just can't.
It's not right...not your choice."
Willow didn't understand. Tara had never really had
much to say on the subject of Spike before. Why did
she have to chose *now* to get involved? "No, it's
*his* choice, Tara," Willow reminded her gently. "He
wants his soul, and I'm going to give it to him. I
mean, who am I to say no?"
Tara spun around, desperation making her angry. "And
who are you to give him back his soul?" she hissed.
"It's not right. You're playing with powerful forces,
Willow, and using magic that's not your right to
wield! Y-you're playing God, Willow!"
While the girls were arguing, neither noticed Spike as
he skulked in the back door and hid behind some boxes.
The moment the sun had set he'd headed for Willie's,
hoping that he'd be less likely to run into some
demons that he actually knew that early in the
evening. On the way, he decided to stop by and see
how Willow's plan was coming along. If there were
fireworks, he wanted to see them and play substitute
backbone in case Willow started to lose the one that
she'd so recently acquired. He was glad he had, too,
considering the stupid blonde cow was trying to
interfere again.
Willow clutched at Tara's hand, not understanding her
reaction. "How can you say that? He's suffering, he
wants this, and it would be plain cruel of me not to!"
Tara's voice softened, a tear slipping down her cheek
that Willow simply didn't understand. "Please,
Willow?"
Distressed by her lover's pain, Willow wiped away
Tara's tears. "I have to do this, Tara. Try to
understand," she murmured softly.
"No!" Tara declared, pushing Willow's hands away. "I
d-don't understand. I won't! And if you loved me,
Willow, you wouldn't do this!"
Willow's eyes widened and she took an involuntary step
away from Tara. She couldn't believe she'd just been
delivered an ultimatum by her own girlfriend. "I
don't want to go all Ricky Lake on you, Tara, but
'Don't go there'!" she warned, eyes flashing.
Tara shook her head sadly. "B-but you can't trust
him. You don't know what he'll be like souled, and I
think he's up to something, Willow."
Willow's face softened a bit. "I know he has ulterior
motives, Tara. Maybe he thinks that if has a soul
he'll be...more worthy of love, but--"
"He-he was reading stuff on your computer. I s-saw
him!" Tara interrupted, grasping for any reason to
make Willow change her mind.
"What? When?"
But at that moment, the sound of several raised voices
and a scuffle sent them both hurrying to the front of
the shop.
It was Willie, and he was being held face-down against
the counter by a very annoyed-looking Buffy.
"I'm only going to give you one more chance, Willie,"
Buffy said, shoving him back down against the glass as
he struggled. "What do you want the orb for?"
Before Willow could turn back around to try to sneak
out, the bar owner saw her. "Why don't you ask your
witch," he said through teeth gritted in pain. "She's
the one who asked me to get it!"
"Tara?" Giles asked, turning to glance at her.
"No, the other one. The mean one." Willie shivered
at the thought of her earlier visit.
The Slayer turned to gawk at the redhead, letting the
snitch go. "Willow?"
Willie straightened up, trying to fix his rumpled
clothes, not that it helped his appearance any.
Willow sighed as she took in all the puzzled looks
directed her way. Why did she even bother to make
plans on the Hellmouth? "This is your source,
Willie?" she asked bitterly. "The Magic Box?"
He snorted. "Where the hell did you expect me to get
an Orb of Thessulah on such short notice? Come to
think of it, girlie, why didn't you just get it
yourself?"
"You asked him to get you an Orb of Thessulah,
Willow?" Giles questioned her gravely, taking off his
glasses.
Willow flashed a very nervous and obviously fake grin.
"You know me, Giles. I like to be prepared."
"Oh god," The Slayer moaned, looking at Willow through
terrified eyes. "It's Angel, isn't it?" Buffy
gripped the counter for support. "Angel's lost his
soul...that's what you wanted to tell me, isn't it?"
"No!" Willow quickly assured her. "No, Buffy...it's
not Angel. He's still Angel. No Angelus here,
because that would be very bad. Only Angels, I
swear!"
"Angelus is back?" Xander chimed in as he entered
carrying a box of donuts, Anya at his side.
"Angelus?" Anya repeated. "Leather pants, right?"
"No! No Angelus!" Willow exclaimed. "Can we start
this whole discussion over please?" Willow asked
hopefully.
Xander patted The Slayer's hand. "Buffy, if Angelus
is back--"
"The news of my death has been greatly exaggerated."
All eyes flew to the door. Angel was standing there
with a grim look, hands in his pockets.
"He must be Angelus!" Xander shouted, dropping the box
of donuts on the nearest table and heading for the
weapons locker. "Angel didn't have a sense of humor."
The vampire took a few cautious steps into the room.
"Angelus?" he repeated. "Why does everyone always
think I'm Angelus again?"
"Angel?" Buffy asked softly.
He smiled sadly. "Yes, it's me, Buffy."
"See? It is Angel!" Willow said, relieved that the
others seemed to believe her now. "But he's early,"
she added under her breath.
"What is that damned pillock doing here?" bellowed
Spike as he stormed in from the back room, causing
Willow and Tara to jump slightly.
"Well...you see--" started a flustered Willow,
glancing between Spike and Angel.
Angel cut her off, his eyes narrowing sharply as they
landed on the redhead. "I'm here because Willow
called me and...*asked* me to come."
"What?" Spike, Buffy, Anya and Xander cried in
near-unison, all eyes in the room now focused on
Willow.
Willow fidgeted under the weight of all their stares.
At least they weren't all yelling...yet. "Um..."
"Apparently, I'm to play Higgins to your Dolittle,
Spike," Angel added dryly, making it obvious he wasn't
pleased about it either.
"The bloody 'ell you are!" Spike growled, making
Willow wince. She grabbed the vampire's arm as he
tried to shove past her to get to Angel.
"But you'll need him, Spike," she insisted. "He can
help."
"Somebody mind explaining what is going on here before
I just start pummeling people randomly?" Buffy asked.
Willie edged for the door. "Well, since it looks like
you won't be needing me anymore, witch, I'll just be
going..." Then he was gone, not that anybody noticed
because there were simply too many other interesting
things going on.
Willow was thinking fast, hoping a lie would come to
her, but before she could spit it out in hopes that
those in the know would play along just for now, Tara
played her final card.
"S-spike asked Willow t-to give him back his soul, and
she'd agreed to do it. We have to stop them!"
The room fell silent.
Strange. Willow'd always thought that 'all hell
breaking loose' would be a bit nosier.
And then the oddest thing happened. Willow's hand,
which was still firmly gripping Spike's arm, slid down
to his hand, where Spike tightly clasped it in
support.
Finding her strength renewed, Willow looked each
shocked person in the eye. "Yes, I am, and there is
nothing any of you can do or say to change my mind."