The walk home with Buffy was uneventful and yet fascinating to Willow.  She let Buffy do most of the talking, hoping that Jenny's lie about the backfiring spell would explain her quiet behavior.  In truth, even if she had felt like talking, Willow found what Buffy had to say far too interesting to interrupt, only speaking up now and then to ask the occasional carefully-worded question.  Once again, Willow found herself thankful for the poker lessons that enabled her to appear calm and collected as Buffy unknowingly gave her a glimpse into one new aspect of her life.  Summer school.

Willow learned that not only were Xander, Cordelia, and Buffy in summer school, taking an advanced college prep class--AP History--she was as well.  Just as Willow started to fear that an old nightmare of hers was about to come true--the one in which she had to take an exam for a class she had never attended--Buffy revealed that Willow had finished the independent study course early in order to help Ms. Calendar with her computer science class for the upcoming final week of summer school.  So while her friends had classes and exams during this last week of summer school, Willow was officially done.  Strange.  The only thing Willow could figure was perhaps Ms. Calendar had purposely pushed her to complete the class early, knowing that Willow's summer was destined to be an unusual one.

It still seemed odd though that they'd taken summer school classes...well, not her so much as Buffy and Xander.  History?  Buffy hated history.  And Xander, well, he was a master of 'just getting by'.  He did whatever he had to do to pass and not a speck more.  It wasn't that he wasn't smart--anyone who really listened to what he had to say could tell that.  He just wasn't too big on applying himself, and from what Willow knew of Xander's family life, no one had ever pushed him to excel or expected much out of him.  Except for her, of course, but Willow had always been too infatuated with her dark-haired best friend to risk forcefully insisting that he get his act together.  Apparently this time around, though, somebody or something *had* gotten through to him.

Just another difference Willow added to the list of changes.

As they walked, Buffy continued to gripe and moan about having to take a summer course, even though it only lasted about three weeks and took up half their day.  Willow was sorely tempted to ask her why she was taking the class in the first place, but she managed to hold her tongue.  Willow didn't want to push her luck by asking too many stupid questions all in one day.

By the time she and Buffy arrived at the Rosenberg residence, Willow was actually relieved.  She was looking forward to having some time on her own to think things through, and she was still dying for that long hot shower that she'd promised herself.  When Buffy told her that she would stop by around 7:30 so they could head back to Angel's together and from there they could *all* go to the Bronze, Willow agreed but without much enthusiasm.  As much as she wanted to spend time with her friends again, Angel's attention--attention that she felt was rightly Buffy's--made her increasingly self-conscious.  Even though she knew the vampire meant well, Willow could only hope that Angel wouldn't actually be coming with them to Sunnydale's only hotspot and they were simply using the church as a convenient meeting point.

After telling Buffy she'd see her later, Willow darted up the stairs and straight for a very long, hot shower.

***

"Never fails..." Willow muttered, shutting off the water and stepping out of the tub.  "First decent shower in over a 100 years and the doorbell rings...."

Willow grabbed her terry-cloth bathrobe off of the back of the door and quickly slipped into it.  Clutching the baby pink robe tightly about her, she skipped down the steps and looked out the peephole at her unexpected guest.  Hoping she successfully hid her frustration, Willow opened the door to an exhausted-looking Jenny Calendar.

"Ms. Calendar...hi...everything okay?" she asked, having to push a few strands of dripping-wet hair out of her face.

"I thought you might like to talk some more before you get together with your friends tonight, Willow," she said, tightening her grip on her book bag.  "But I see that I got you out of the shower.  Maybe I can come back later..."

Willow opened the door wider, gesturing for the woman to come in.  "No, it's okay, really.  I've used up all the hot water anyway."

"Please relax, Willow," Jenny said, noting how Willow had tensed up when she saw her.  "I'm not going to ask you anymore questions today.  I'm here to answer them, actually.  I figured you must have a ton of them by now, and you can't exactly get the answers you need with the kids around."

Willow's smile was one of relief as she again motioned for her to enter.  "You've got that right."

After showing Jenny into the living room, Willow excused herself to put some clothes on.  A few minutes later, dressed in baggy sweatpants and a T-shirt, and her damp hair combed out, Willow rejoined the teacher.

"I want to thank you for keeping my secret this morning, Ms. Calendar."

Jenny stood up when Willow re-entered the room.  She was glad to see that Willow appeared a little more relaxed around her, but now she was feeling a little nervous herself.

"First of all, please call me Jenny."

Willow frowned a little.  She had no intention of calling her parents by their first names now, or referring to the librarian as Rupert, even if she was older than all of them.

"You sure?"

"At least when it's just the two of us.  It just doesn't seem right for you to be calling me Ms. Calendar anymore.  I feel like our roles have been reversed, and I should be referring to you as Ms. Rosenberg."

"Willow will be fine, *Jenny*," she replied, somewhat embarrassed by the whole conversation.

"First of all, I need to apologize for this morning, Willow.  I should have come up with a better lie.  Oh, who am I kidding?" she groaned.  "I wasn't very well prepared for your returning at all.  I'm so sorry about everything, Willow.  I didn't handle it well...especially telling you about Oz."

"It's okay, Ms. Cal--Jenny," Willow insisted with a shrug, her eyes falling to her feet.  "While I was taking a shower, I began to come to my senses somewhat.  You had no idea that things would be different or that I'd remember what had happened to me.  Besides, you were just going by *my* journals.  Not your fault if that they were wrong."

"Still, it was *my* responsibility, Willow," Jenny said adamantly.  "You, the journals... I failed miserably as the keeper of 'The Writings'.  I fear the Rom elders made a mistake in choosing me for such a task."

"Oh, don't say that, Jenny.  It certainly isn't your fault that Oz and I aren't together, or Buffy or Angel, and I'm sure in the grand scheme of things, the relationships probably weren't that high on the Rom's priority list when they made up those prophecies.  From what I can tell, the whole role of 'The Writings' was to keep everyone safe until I could return...to make sure that things didn't veer to far off the expected path, in spite of anything Spike and I may have mucked up."

"Basically..."

"Well, then it looks like you did a good job to me.  Everyone is alive and well..."

"I just hate seeing you so unhappy, Willow," Jenny said genuinely.

"I'm not unhappy so much as confused and overwhelmed, Jenny," she assured her.  "I'll be okay.  Like I said, I just need time to adjust."  <And to fix a few minor relationship issues,> she added silently.  Not that she had an actual plan for getting Buffy and Angel together, but how hard could it be when they so obviously belonged together?  She smiled again at Jenny.  "Actually, I bet a cup of tea would make us both feel better, and I'm pretty sure we have some.  Do you drink tea?"

"Gallons of it," Jenny said with a smile, grabbing her things and following Willow into the kitchen.  "I'm afraid Giles has me quite addicted to it.  That man must keep 20 different varieties at his apartment.  He has a different favorite for the morning, afternoon, rain, shine, plague, prophecy..."

"I can see that hasn't changed much either," Willow laughed lightly as she rummaged about in the perfectly organized pantry, finding one tin of 'breakfast tea'.  Willow filled the kettle with hot water and set it on the burner before turning on the stove.  "I'm afraid I don't have much to offer you to eat.  The bread looks like it's older than I am.  Although if I remember right, there should be some PopTarts--"

"No thank you, Willow," Jenny replied, taking a seat at the round, tile-topped table, setting her bag next to the chair.  "I had several donuts this morning...too many, actually."

After getting the teapot out of the cupboard and filling the tiny silver tea ball with the pungent tea leaves, Willow sat down across from the teacher, noting her tired and rather dejected expression.

"Giles is still mad, huh?"

Jenny looked up and met her student's concerned eyes.   "He feels betrayed.  Says I mislead him all this time, not telling him about you, my true role as the keeper of the prophecies, not to mention the fact that I had a much more complete version of The Writings than he did."  Jenny sighed, surrendering to the fact Giles had every reason to be angry with her.  "But the worst part is that he thinks I was just using him to be close to you."

"Oh, but you weren't!" Willow said defiantly, hoping to cheer up the other woman.  "You two were involved in the other timeline too.  Of course, in that timeline you were keeping an eye on Angel, instead of me..."  Willow's triumphant grin faded a little.  "Come to think of it, Giles felt betrayed by you that time, too."

Jenny visibly wilted, her shoulders sagging.  "Seems like some histories are bound to be repeated, no matter how many chances I get."

Willow reached across the small dinette table, taking the woman's soft hand in her own and squeezing it gently.

"It will be okay.  It was a shock for Giles, that's all.  Once things settle down, I'm sure he'll come to his senses.  Especially if I quit yelling at him."

Jenny bit her lip, trying to keep from smiling.  "Oh, the look on his face, Willow.  I know I shouldn't laugh, but when you reminded him that you were old enough to be his great grandmother..."

"Great *great* grandmother," Willow corrected with a wicked gleam in her eye.  The two women shared a guilty laugh.

It felt good to really laugh again, although Willow regretted that it was at the librarian's expense.  After all, Giles had been much like a father figure during her teen-aged years, and she'd even had a tiny bit of a crush on him once upon a time.  Still, as bad as she felt about having yelled at The Watcher the way she had, maybe he'd think twice before treating her like a child again.

Both women were still smiling from the image of the flabbergasted watcher when the slight whistling from the steaming kettle filled the air.

As Willow busied herself filling the blue and white flowered teapot with the steaming water, she considered Jenny and Giles' situation.  As she tried to come up with a way to help the pair, Willow suddenly felt a little silly for thinking of offering the more experienced woman love advice.  After all, what did she know about having a loving adult relationship?  Her association with Spike, although at times quite adult in nature, was hardly the stuff that happily-ever-after romances were made of.  And as far as Angelus went... Well, she doubted her experiences with him would translate well to Jenny's situation either.  And yet, Willow wanted to help, so she decided to stick with experiences that were common to both of them, in a twisted time-travelling kind of way.

"You know, it's a lot like that mess with Ripper and Eyghon," Willow mused as she set the full teapot on the table to steep, as well as the sugar and milk.  "Ooh, did that happen this time around?" Willow questioned, a worried look on her face.  "Did you play host to a particularly nasty tattoo-loving demon?"

"'Fraid so."

"Good," she said with obvious relief.  Then Willow's eyes widened as she realized what she'd said.  "Oh, not good in the 'possessed and almost killed' kinda way, but good in the 'I can use it as a learning tool' kinda way," Willow sputtered, taking a seat.

Jenny couldn't help smiling again.  Just when Willow had impressed her with her 'new-found' maturity, out popped a standard Willow babble.

"Jenny, do you remember how you felt after that?" Willow began after she composed herself.  "You couldn't even look at Giles for a while."

"I remember," Jenny reluctantly admitted, recalling all too easily how hurt she'd been to find out about Giles' past in such a manner.  "I felt as if I didn't even know him.  I felt betrayed...just like Giles does now, I suppose."

"But you got over it and he will too," Willow reminded her as she finally poured the tea.  "It just takes time...and a *lot* of talking it out when he's ready."

Jenny held the warm cup between her hands, her thumbs tracing its smooth porcelain rim as she considered Willow's words.  It didn't take her long to realize that Willow was probably right.

"How'd you get so smart, Willow?"

Willow arched an eyebrow as she beamed at the older-looking woman.  "I had great teachers and a *lot* of time to learn the hard lessons."

Jenny took a deep breath, not sure how Willow would react to what she was about to say.

"Maybe you need to take your own advice?  I think you and Angel have a lot of talking to do."

Willow stiffened at the mere mention of Angel's name, her grip on the fragile teacup tightening until her knuckles turned white.

"I'm tired of talking about it, Jenny," she said, staring into the dark brew.  "I just want things to go back to the way they were before...except I want you alive," she added, flashing the Gypsy a small, awkward smile.  "I want you and Giles to be together and happy, I want Buffy and Angel to be together and happy..." Willow admitted with a sigh before taking a few sips of the soothing concoction.

"Didn't you forget someone?" Jenny asked, not missing the fact that Willow continued to imply that Buffy and Angel should be together.

"Who?" Willow asked, her brows pulling together.  "Cordy and Xander?  They're already happy, in a masochistic sort of way."

This time Jenny reached across to pat Willow's hand in a motherly fashion.  "What about you?  Don't you deserve to be happy?"  Before Willow could form a protest, Jenny continued.  "And who would make you happy, Willow?  Oz or Angel?"  When Willow didn't answer right away, choosing instead to pull her hand away and stare into her cup, Jenny reluctantly added, "Or Spike?"

Willow finally looked Jenny squarely in the eye and saw concern in their dark depths.  "I think I'll take 'D-None of the above'.  Things are complicated now," Willow said with a shrug.  "I'm afraid it is going to take me some time to get used to being back, let alone deal with this new version of Angel.  I have too many other things to focus on.  Again, my love life isn't high on the list of priorities."

"Willow, talk to me...tell me about you and Angel--Angelus--in the past," Jenny said, deciding that the only way she could help Willow was if she knew everything that had happened to her.  "I know that you haven't told me everything, that things happened to you that aren't in my version of your journals.  Maybe talking about it would help?"

"I don't know..." Willow said reticently, shaking her head.

"It's just between us, Willow.  I promise.  No notes in 'The Writings' or discussions with Giles.  Just a good, old-fashioned woman-to-woman talk."

Willow sighed.  She couldn't remember the last time she'd had an honest heart-to-heart with another woman.  While Willow doubted that Jenny could help much with the awkward situation that she now found herself in with Angel, considering the other woman knew very little about their shared past, the redhead figured it couldn't hurt to get some of it off her chest.  So she took a deep breath and just started talking, not even sure of how much she was willing to share.

"Angel...Angelus, when he was human, was so...charming," Willow began with soft smile of reminiscence.  "I had decided right away when we arrived in Galway that it would be best if I never actually met him.  I was so afraid I'd mess things up..." her voice trailed off, ending in a derisive laugh at just how messed up things were in spite of her best attempts to not change history.  "Unfortunately," she continued, "I accidentally ran into Angelus in the jail that very first day, and well--"

"Jail?"

"He was a bit of a mischief maker," Willow said with impish grin, and soon Jenny was wearing one of her own.  "Nothing bad, just a bit of a scoundrel...a ladies man."

"That doesn't surprise me in the slightest, Willow."  Jenny leaned forward in anticipation, fascinated by the chance to get a clearer picture of Angel's past.  "What happened when you met?"

"He flirted with me.  I-I tried to ignore him, I swear!  But he kept tracking me down.  To make a long story short, we agreed to just be friends--seeing as I was pretending to be married at the time--and that's what we did.  We were together almost every day.  He taught me how to ride properly, we went for walks, picnics, I even met his mother..."  Willow sighed, and got up from the table, busying herself by rinsing out the tea kettle and wiping down the counters.  After a moment, her nervous, guilty cleaning stopped.  She gripped the edge of the counter and closed her eyes.  "I was such an idiot, Jenny.  To think that I could spend so much time with a man like him and not...."

"You fell in love with him," Jenny gently prodded when Willow didn't finish her sentence.

Willow nodded, opening her eyes to stare out the kitchen window at the professionally landscaped backyard, but in her mind's eye she was revisiting the emerald-green hills of Ireland.  The memories were still crystal clear, the cobblestone streets of Galway, Caroline's lamb with mint sauce, the cottage that she and Spike had called home for many weeks...and every walk, every conversation, every horseback ride...Willow remembered every minute she'd spent with Angelus, no matter how hard she'd tried to forget over the years.

"And he fell in love with you?"

Reluctantly returning to the present, Willow shrugged.  "Sometimes I think he did, but I'm not sure."  Willow laughed nervously, turning to face the teacher once again as she leaned back against the sink.  "He was such a flirt, Jenny.  He could have had any girl in the village, and for all I know he *did*...But the things he said to me...The way he looked at me....  No one had ever looked at me like that before, not even Oz.  There was so much...longing in his eyes those last few times we met."

"Then why do you doubt that he loved you when you could practically see it in his eyes?"

"Because...well, I was *Rose*.  He didn't really know me.  Our whole relationship, friendship, was based on lies, even if they were necessary.  Angelus thought I was married, so that made me forbidden fruit.  Unfortunately, Angelus seemed to have had a thing for married women at the time.  He loved a challenge.  I think I was just another challenge for him, Jenny."  Willow sat back down at the table, finally looking at Jenny and finding only understanding in the Gypsy woman's eyes.  Strengthened by it, Willow continued. "Also, Spike told me that Angelus was just using me...that it was a game to Angelus."

"And you believed Spike?"

"I believe that that's what Spike believed, if that makes any sense at all."  When Jenny nodded, Willow continued.  "But *he* also told me...Angelus told me..."

Jenny sat up a little straighter.  "Angelus told you that he didn't love you?"

Willow could only nod her answer at first, her green eyes fixed on the bandage-covered silver ring she was now nervously twisting.

"As I'm sure you've guessed by now, Angelus and I ran into each other a few times after he was turned," Willow began after indulging in a deep, calming breath.  "He told me that all he'd wanted when he was human was to bed me.  And that he--the living Angelus--would have grown bored with me soon after that."

"So you believed the soulless Angelus?"

"At that point, I didn't know what or who to believe.  I guess I still don't.  Angelus told me lots of things before he was resouled.  Spike was right about him loving to play mind games, and Angelus could be very...persuasive...."

Willow's eyes fluttered shut again at the memories, ones she'd been trying very hard to keep at bay.  While she'd allowed herself to indulge in her darker recollections of the vampire Angelus, the ones that made it easier to construct barriers between herself and Angel, what Willow had been reluctant to acknowledge were the few instances that her memories were less unpleasant.  There weren't many but they were significant, considering whom she'd been dealing with.  There were two or three times when Willow could have sworn that she saw something more than a soulless killer in the dark depths of his eyes...hadn't she?

Noting Willow's wince at the use of the word 'persuasive' and remembering her softly spoken comment to the same effect early that morning, Jenny's curiosity multiplied.  She waited a few minutes, but Willow seemed lost in thought, her face quickly becoming bereft of obvious emotion.

"Do you want to tell me what happened between you and Angelus after he became a vampire, Willow?" Jenny finally asked.

Willow's head jerked up at the older woman's voice.  For a moment, she'd forgotten Jenny was even there.

"No," Willow said firmly.  She wasn't ready to share those painful memories yet, not sure if she'd ever share them with anyone, other than Spike, that is.  They were simply too personal.

Sensing that Willow's barriers were going back up, Jenny changed tactics.  "You're right not to talk to me about it.  You should be talking to Angel instead."

"Hey, I thought you weren't going to be asking me any questions?" Willow asked with fake suspiciousness as she refilled both their cups, hoping to change the subject.

"I'm sorry, Willow.  I didn't mean to pry," Jenny said honestly, and agreeing to Willow's unspoken request to change the subject.  "So, what questions do you have for me?"

Willow poured them both some more tea, a myriad of questions running about in her head, fighting to be asked first.

"Well, I have many but there is one that I'm dying to ask."

"What's that?" Jenny asked, preparing herself for the worst.

"What kind of black magick did you have to do in order to get Buffy and Xander to take summer school?"

*****

They talked for over two hours, Jenny's facts and stories helping Willow to begin feeling somewhat less detached from her surroundings.

Jenny gave her the Cliff Notes version about the schooling situation, and Willow soon learned that she'd guessed correctly.  Jenny had been pushing the other unknowing Willow to get as many class credits as possible, just in case some side effects of the spell made her senior year of high school difficult.  In fact, she'd taken summer school two years in a row *and* had taken an extra course here and there when her schedule permitted.  All in all, it meant that Willow's schedule for the upcoming school year would be somewhat easier, which was a relief, as she couldn't quite envision her century-old self being as fascinated by calculus as it once was.  But even more captivating was the reasoning behind her friends' increased academic interest.  Apparently, Angel felt that Xander's and Buffy's previous grades "did not represent their best work" and on a half-dare, half-bet, Angel promised to send everyone on some sort of incredibly cool vacation after they graduated if they did well.  So, all four of them had signed up for Advanced Placement History with dreams of a Caribbean Cruise serving as the ultimate incentive.

This revelation led to yet another mental note for Willow.  This Angel, Angel version 2.0, had money and apparently plenty of it.  While the first Angel hardly seemed destitute, his Sunnydale abode had been modest, according to Buffy.  Never did he appear to have the financial means to renovate an entire church and stock a good-sized occult library, let alone pay for an extravagant vacation.  It wasn't a bad thing, Angel's increase in assets, but it was a change.  Willow couldn't help wondering what had happened this time around to effect the difference.  She doubted that the inadvertent introduction of poker 100 years too soon, therefore giving Angelus an extra century to gamble and win, could explain such a dramatic contrast.  Unfortunately, Jenny had been unable to offer any real insight into the vampire's financial past, so Willow just added it to her ever-growing list of questions.

Jenny did manage to clear up some of Willow's confusion regarding 'The Writings' and her role as their keeper, however.  The copy of 'The Writings' that Willow had been shown was Jenny's personal copy, written in the Romany language, and was meant for Jenny's eyes only.  It contained not only the same 'prophecies' that Giles' abridged English-language version did, but also the sketchy accounts of Willow's life as Rose that they'd discussed the night before.  In fact, up until yesterday, Giles was not even aware that Jenny had a different rendition, let alone a more accurate and straightforward version of the true events that had led to the creation of 'The Writings'.  Jenny had always 'played dumb' when it came to the prophecies, assuming the role of interested bystander only, yet she was always covertly working to make sure that Giles interpreted them correctly.  Her seemingly innocent input helped to steer Giles and the rest of The Slayerettes in the correct direction.  Realizing now that it was these lies that really fueled Giles' anger toward the dark-haired Gypsy woman and not simply how Willow's role had been hidden from the librarian, Willow was still confident that the two would be able to work things about.

Next, Jenny and Willow compared notes on some of the more interesting events of the two timelines.  Willow soon found that while some things had happened differently, the end result was usually the same.  Willow had still computer-dated a demon, been nearly gassed to death by an invisible girl, and had been courted by a massive computer-software company at last year's career fair, only minus the gunfire this time around.  A positive change was that Kendra was still alive since the whole Acathla affair had never occurred without Angelus around to awaken it.  Once again, the Watchers Council, via 'The Writings', had stepped in before things could get nasty.  Also notable was the fact that Buffy's mom had still found out about her daughter being The Slayer, although the circumstances around that revelation had been different as well.  The new history seemed to be full of these peculiar coincidences, and the more the women compared the two pasts, the more similarities Willow found.

Willow was so relieved when Jenny didn't drop any other real bombshells that she relented and shared some more information with the woman, answering some of Jenny's less personal questions.  Willow even gave Jenny permission to take notes again and share the details with Giles and Angel, if she felt it was necessary.  Willow told Jenny what had occurred in her timeline as the result of Angel's losing his soul, since she'd halted her storytelling efforts at that point the night before.  Willow informed her of everything she remembered about that time, describing Angelus's horrible deeds, including Jenny's own death.  She spoke in detail of her attempt to restore Angel's soul, and what she'd learned from Spike about what had happened that night between Angel, Acathla, and Buffy.  Willow only paused to answer Jenny's occasional question and freshen their tea.  Her tale eventually ended when Willow felt as if there was nothing left to reveal about the months between Angel's losing his soul and Spike's casting the spell.

The two women sat in companionable silence for a while, each digesting the new particulars in their own way.  When both women agreed that they'd shared enough for one day, Jenny left, going back to Angel's, and Willow immediately headed upstairs to take another shower.

***

Willow's second shower lasted until the water turned cold.  She'd used her parents' bathroom this time, seduced by the thought of the dual massaging showerheads.  The rhythmic pounding of the water on her tense muscles had helped Willow to relax somewhat and gather her thoughts, and as she stepped out of the shower, her thoughts, while far from organized, were much less overwhelming.

Wiping some of the mist away from the mirror, Willow studied her reflection.

She *still* looked 17, which both elated the redhead--because the last thing she wanted was to look the true age of a centurion--and disappointed her as well.  Truth be told, even though Willow wasn't exactly sure what she wanted, she somehow knew that she couldn't have it.  Willow wanted to slip back into her old life, surround herself with the familiar comfort of her family and friends and the life that she'd remembered and craved during her time in the past.  On the other hand, she *also* wanted to be treated with the respect that she thought she deserved, not simply because of her age but because of what she'd gone through, all those years she'd survived on her own, everything she'd learned, and the fact that she had managed to endure and come out with her sanity intact.  Add to that the fact that she wanted to pick and choose the changes that had occurred--keep the new *living* Jenny, bring back the old 'Buffy and Angel as a couple' idea, keep the nifty new library/clubhouse/church, bring Oz back into her life, and so on....

Willow 'Rose Smith' Rosenberg not only wanted to have her cake and eat it too, she also wanted the cake to have multi-colored sprinkles, a double scoop of chocolate chocolate-chip ice-cream, and perhaps a few roses made out of sickeningly sweet yellow icing to boot.  As Willow stared at the image in the mirror, she sighed.  Somehow she didn't quite see a cake in her near future.

After drying off and indulging in some of her mother's expensive moisturizing lotions and such, Willow changed the bandages that kept the silver ring from slipping from her finger, putting them on in such a way that she could barely see the ring for all the Band-Aids.  Finally, Willow put on her robe, turned off the light and stepped out of the steamy bathroom and into her parents' bedroom, where she stopped short.  Again, it all looked very familiar.  The sun catcher of a hummingbird that she remembered giving to her mom one year for Mother's Day was hanging in a window.  On the wall next to the dresser, Willow's yearly school pictures--each just as she remembered, not a hair different--were hung in a neat row, and the enlarged photograph of her parents' wedding day on a beach, barefooted and with flowers in their hair, was above the bed.  Everywhere she looked, familiar items and the memories they induced waited silently for her inspection and approval.  Tears soon sprang to her eyes, and Willow rushed down the steps and into the kitchen.  Finding her parents' schedule on the fridge, exactly where it was supposed to be anytime they were away, Willow picked up the phone with shaky hands and pushed the buttons.  Twice she had to start over as nervousness made her fingers unusually clumsy.  In the end, it took a while, not to mention extreme over-use of the word 'emergency,' but Willow was eventually able to get both of her parents on the phone at the same time from their hotel room in New York City.

When The Rosenbergs asked Willow what the emergency was in panicked voices, she simply told them that she missed them.  Willow spoke with her parents for nearly an hour, which may have been a record, but she needed to hear their voices.  She asked them all about the conference and contentedly listened to them talk about their work...for once not really caring that it had often seemed like their jobs had taken a priority in their life over her.  But her parents had questions for her as well...was she okay, how was summer-school going, was she eating properly?  They even encouraged her to sleep over at a friend's house if she'd feel safer that way.  Then they said something that once again destroyed Willow's fragile sense of equilibrium.  Her parents, Sheila and Ira Rosenberg, actually told her that they were sure neither Buffy nor *Angel* would mind if she stayed with them until they returned.  Stunned that her parents were encouraging her to sleep over at 'a boy's house', Willow finally ended the call, telling her parents that she loved them.  In a daze, she slowly climbed the stairs to her room where she collapsed on the bed, utterly bewildered.

The moment her head touched the pillow, Willow was positive she could stay there quite happily, relatively speaking, for a year or more.  It had nothing to do with the computer-engineered perfect posture support mattress or the sheets without the threat of bedbugs.  Actually, the sheets weren't any softer than the ones she'd slept in during her travels with Spike.  They'd usually stayed in quite nice accommodations, sometimes in rooms so ritzy that Willow was afraid to touch anything, let alone disturb the perfectly made-up bed.  Sure, while she'd been with the Rom the sleeping arrangements had left a lot to be desired, but that still wasn't what made Willow want to just curl up in her bed and hibernate.

Willow was simply positive that if she moved her head even the tiniest bit so she could snuggle more deeply into the pillow, her brain would literally explode.  It had been bad enough before the phone call...all those subtle changes just begging for an explanation...but they paled in comparison to this most recent revelation.  Her parents not only knew Angel they even seemed to like him.

"Bloody hell...they even asked me to tell him 'hello'!"  Willow whispered aloud in soft confusion, somewhat surprised that her brain remained intact through the end of the sentence.

She couldn't believe it.  While her parents had allowed her to spend many nights with Buffy, even though they could barely remember her name, once puberty had hit, Willow's sleepovers with Xander had been put to a grinding halt.  So the idea that they encouraged her to spend the night at Angel's place, who was obviously no boy to even the most preoccupied of parents, made Willow dizzy with the implications.

And now, when she had so much to think about, thoughts swirling around in her head like a whirlwind, never quite settling down long enough for her to get her bearings, one glance at the clock reminded her that she needed to get ready to go to The Bronze.  Add to that the fact that they were all meeting at Angel's place beforehand so they could go together, and the prospect of never leaving the bed was looking better all the time.

But she did get out of bed, reluctantly dragging herself to the closet to find something to wear.  It wasn't easy.  After wearing long skirts and corsets for years, she'd been looking forward to wearing jeans.  But when Willow put them on, she wasn't quite so sure.  She tried on more than a dozen different combinations, dismissing each for either being too dowdy or plain ugly.  While they all felt comfortable, she wasn't comfortable *in* them.  They simply weren't 'her' anymore.

Almost looking forward to that looming shopping trip, Willow finally decided on a pair of black jeans that were neither too baggy or too tight, with a familiar lightweight burgundy v-neck sweater that fell below her hips, over a black lace-trimmed tank.  It didn't reveal much, especially when compared to a Rom blouse or some of the more daring evening gowns, and yet she felt much more attractive and mature than she did wearing the baggy overalls or the Wyle E. Coyote T-shirt.

Tempted as she was to put her hair up just to get it out of the way once she had blown it dry, Willow left it down, feeling the need to cover her neck and the scars it bore as much as possible whenever she was around Angel.  At least for now, she amended, because Willow still had every intention of cutting if off, having been dragged around by her long locks one too many times in the past.  But for now, it stayed.

Next was the makeup dilemma.  Just the thought of how much to put on made Willow freeze with indecision.  She'd worn very little makeup when she was 17, and yet she really wasn't a naive 17 year old anymore...  <How much is too much?  Would it make anyone suspicious?  Can I possibly be more pathetic, getting into a tizzy over eyeliner?  Choose your battles, Willow.  Choose your battles.>

Pushing away her irrational fears for the time being, Willow applied just a hint of color all around.  After all, she decided, just because she was trying to fit back into her old life once again, that didn't mean she couldn't make a few personal improvements here and there.

After pulling on her black ankle boots, Willow surveyed herself in the mirror.  Something was missing, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.  After turning her head this way and that, and spinning about in front of the full-length mirror a few times, she finally decided that it needed a necklace.  Willow fingered through her old ballerina jewelry box and settled on a short, thick silver chain with black stones along its length.  When she rechecked the mirror, it looked fine, but it still wasn't quite right.  That's when she caught a glimpse in the mirror of the ring she still worse.  As she twisted the silver, bandage-coated band, she realized she missed her cross.  She'd worn it for so long that it, like the ring, had become a part of her, and she sorely wanted it back.  For a moment her mind traveled back, back to the night that for her was only a few days ago, but in reality was over a century before.  The night when Angelus had found her in Baia Mare, Romania, and had violently ripped the cross from her neck....

Willow shuddered, easily reliving the terror of that moment, seeing his face, twisted and enraged, looming above her.  But with a deep breath, the face became Angel's...short hair, half-smile, warm, caring eyes...and Willow shivered again.

Before Willow could give the cross another thought, the doorbell rang, immediately followed by sound of the door opening.

"I'm here, Willow!  You ready?" Buffy's voice echoed up the stairway.

"Be right down, Buffy," Willow responded automatically.

After one last lingering glance in her mirror and a silent prayer to anyone that would listen for the night to go smoothly, Willow quickly padded down the steps to where Buffy was waiting.

It was time to head to Angel's.
 

~Chapter Seven~

Nearing the church that served as both Angel's home and Slayer Central, Willow had to take a few deep breaths as her tummy's hyperactive butterflies launched into flight yet again.  She was relieved when Buffy didn't seem to notice her growing unease the nearer they came to the church.  The blonde was eagerly chatting on about her new crush, Jason, which hardly helped to improve Willow's comfort level.  Still, she preferred this conversation to anything that involved her personally, so Willow made enough comments and threw in the occasional girlie question to insure that the mainly one-sided dialogue lasted until they arrived at their destination.

Following Buffy up the steps to the front doors of the church, Willow paused only long enough to picture her calming place and take one last final deep breath where it couldn't be overheard by Angel's supernatural ears.  That done, she waltzed into the vampire's unusual home.  Using a trick that Spike had taught her for whenever she entered a new situation for the first time, Willow held her head high, as if she owned the place.  It was supposed to make her appear confident and at ease--and usually did--no matter how to the contrary she might feel.

Immediately, though, her confidence wavered.  She'd hoped that nobody would be there, or better yet, Cordy and Xander would have arrived early so that they could head straight for the Bronze.  Unfortunately for the redhead, Willow's childhood friend and the cheerleader were nowhere in sight, but Giles and Angel were.  They were standing near the main round table, which was littered with open books.  Giles was still dressed as he had been that morning, jeans and a button down shirt, but Angel had changed out of his workout clothes.  Much to Willow's chagrin, his new ensemble--perfectly pressed black trousers and a charcoal-gray v-neck--looked like something he'd probably wear out to The Bronze, as opposed to suitable lounge-wear for around the church-home.  But as much as the thought of Angel going out with them disturbed Willow, the fact that the two men appeared to be in the middle of a rather intense conversation, since they had yet to notice her arrival, was even more troublesome.

"Great," Willow mumbled as she and Buffy stopped in the middle of the large room some distance from the others and exchange harried looks.  "Wanna bet who they are talking about?"

"Can't blame them for being concerned, Willow, but maybe Giles has gotten a grip on his over-protectiveness."

"I hope you're right, Buffy," Willow replied, purposely louder than before.

At the sound of Willow's voice, Angel's eyes darted to them, a guilty look encompassing his normally stoic face as he finally noticed that he and Giles had an audience.

"Willow...you're here.  And Buffy, too," he added, instantly annoyed with himself not only for sounding like such an idiot but also for not realizing the moment they'd entered the building.

"Oh yeah..." Buffy said, rolling her eyes.  "They were definitely talking about you."  The Slayer grabbed Willow by the hand and pulled her towards the table.  "Sorry to interrupt the war council, but don't you think you two are blowing this whole spell-gone-awry mishap out of proportion?  Willow is going to be fine, and I'm sure she learned some sort of valuable lesson from this whole experience and is therefore a better person for it having happened in the first place.  Right Willow?"

"Oh yeah...you're, uh, darn tootin', I did," Willow responded rather awkwardly.

"See?" Buffy said triumphantly, glancing at the adults in the room.  "I'm right, right?"

When no one spoke up right away, Buffy frowned with mock severity then added more strongly, "Riiiight?"

"You are correct, of course, Buffy," Giles hastily agreed, just to get it over with.  What point was there in arguing when Buffy had no real clue as to what their true discussion detailed?

Buffy turned her stern look to the vampire next.  "Aaangel?" Buffy goaded, hands on her hips.

"Oh yeah...right," Angel said, nodding his head earnestly.

Buffy grinned.  "Great.  Now that that little problem is solved, I'm going to finish getting ready."  Buffy turned and headed for the hallway.  "I think I left my shoes and hair stuff here the other night," she said over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

When Buffy was gone, Willow turned back to the two men and took a deep breath, preparing herself for the inevitable.  While Buffy may have thought that she'd solved Willow's problem, the redhead knew better.  The slight guilt she felt for once again not telling Buffy the truth was tempered by the anticipated discussion that she was positive was about to take place.

Giles did not disappoint.

"Willow, I'd like to talk to you for a moment before you leave for the evening," he said grimly, his eyes nervously flickering between Willow, Angel, and the floor.

"Giles," she began in a tension-relieving breath, "I have to be honest with you, I think I'm about talked out for the day.  Can I take a raincheck?"

"Yes, well, I quite understand, Willow.  Jenny was here earlier, and she shared with both of us some details of your conversations today.  I must say that they were, once again, fascinating.  Nevertheless, that isn't quite what I wanted to speak to you about at the moment," Giles began as delicately as possible.

"Look, if it's about Spike--" Willow started curtly, not in the mood for another argument.

"Well, it is and it isn't.  I--"

"What about Spike?" Buffy said as she glided back into the room with a pair of shoes in her hands.  "Ooh, is it finally Spike-killing season?" she asked hopefully, plopping down in a chair and slipping off one of her platform shoes to replace it with one from the other pair in her hands.

Willow opened her mouth, an angry objection on her lips at Buffy's glib but innocent comment.  Luckily, Giles interrupted before she could say anything incriminating.

"No, from what I can make of 'The Writings', it appears as if Spike is still off limits, Buffy," Giles replied wearily as he took a seat at the table.  "I was simply reiterating to Willow how dangerous Spike is..."

"Great," Buffy groaned, getting to her oddly shod feet.  "So we have to continue to put up with Spike's annoying cryptic comments and all of his lurking about?"

"For the time being, yes," Giles reluctantly said, catching Willow's soft smile of gratitude for his little fib before he slipped off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose.

"Angel..."

"Angel," Buffy repeated more insistently, trying to get his attention.

The vampire in question turned from Willow to the Slayer, who was now shifting back and forth between standing on one foot and then the other.

"Which shoes?" she asked in a chipper tone, having already forgotten about Spike.

"What?"

"Which shoes do you think I should wear tonight?" Buffy repeated, lifting one leg so he could see the lone effect with the outfit, and then switching to the foot wearing the other style of shoe.

"The black ones," he grunted without thinking, already turning his attention back to Giles and Willow.

"They're both black, Angel."

Angel groaned softly.  He didn't mean to be rude, but he was not in the mood for playing Buffy dress up.  "I don't know, Buffy...the heels?"

Buffy thought for a moment, staring down at her feet.  "Jason's a bit on the short side.  I'll wear the open-toed flats.  Thanks for manly point of view, Angel," and with that, Buffy spun around and headed back toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

Angel glanced rather sheepishly at Willow, who'd watched the whole scene with an indescribable expression on her face.  "Told you that she asks my advice but never takes it."

Willow could only shake her head in wry disbelief at the odd display.

"Willow," Giles started carefully as he put his glasses back on, still not quite sure how to phrase what he wanted to say, "We really do need to talk."

"You're right, Giles.  We *do* need to talk," Willow said thoughtfully, moving to take a seat at the table next to him as she forgot about Buffy and Angel for a while.  "You need to quit being so tough on Jenny," she began before Giles had a chance to launch into his own agenda.  "She was only doing her job.  And from what I can tell, since you are all still here, alive and kicking, and I made it back in one piece, she did her job quite well."

Giles' jaw dropped open for a moment as her abrupt shift in the topic of conversation initially caught him unawares.

"Yes, well, but the point is--"

"The point is," Willow continued, unabated, "you have a second chance with Ms. Calendar.  Believe me when I say that the Giles I knew would have done anything to be in your shoes right now."

Giles' eyes narrowed, regarding the redhead with irritation for a moment.

"Yes, Jenny told me that she was...killed in your timeline..." Giles said matter of factly, but Willow wasn't through with him yet.

"But did she also tell you how broken hearted it left you and that there were so many things that you wish you had told her before it was too late?"  Willow didn't feel the slightest bit guilty in elaborating the truth a little.  Sure, Giles had never actually spoken to her about his feelings for Jenny, either before or after she'd been murdered, but he hadn't needed to.  His pain at the loss had been apparent for all to see, and Willow was quite sure that the librarian had often wished that he'd told Jenny more about how he felt about her.  It was simply human nature.  "And let's not forget the little matter of Ripper and Eyghon, Giles," Willow added for good measure.  "After all, Jenny forgave you for that *little* omission."

Giles opened his mouth, a sharp remark on his lips, but when he looked at Willow, all he could detect was honest concern in her eyes.  She obviously truly cared about their happiness and was only trying to help in her own odd way.  Shaking his head lightly, Giles allowed a small, embarrassed smile to form on his lips instead.

"You certainly did become an extraordinary woman, Willow...without the aid of your parents, or even me, I'm afraid," Giles said, still not quite believing the turn in the conversation.

"You can thank The Rom for that," Willow replied softly, her cheeks already reddening from the force of his compliment.  "And *Spike* too, of course," she added slyly, unable to resist.

Giles' eyes widened, his features tightening momentarily before a reluctant grin tugged at the corners of his mouth yet again.

"I do believe I stepped right into that one, didn't I?"

Willow's mischievous smile grew into a full-blown grin.  "You sure did."

"If I promise to take everything you said about my...situation with Jenny into account, will you then take some advice from me?"

"Advice I can take, Giles.  It's orders I have a problem with," she reminded him, even being so bold as to look Angel in the eye, who'd been watching their interaction from a few feet away.  Angel inclined his head ever-so-slightly in silent understanding.

Giles rose to his feet, feeling the need to pace as he launched into his rather fatherly speech of over-protectiveness.

"The spell that brought you back in time with Spike is complete, Willow.  You've said so yourself.  It is precisely for that reason that you need to be very wary about any kind of interaction with Spike from now on.  We are unaware, at this point in time, exactly how the spell affected him.  From some of the odd things you've mentioned--his non-healing scar, for example--it is possible that the spell may have reacted differently with him than it did with you.  He may not even remember you.  But even if he does, his *feelings* for you, now that the spell is complete, may have changed."

"What are you saying?" Willow asked, trying unsuccessfully not to fidget in discomfort.

"He's saying that you have no way of knowing if the Spike that is now here in Sunnydale is indeed the Spike that you think you befr--I mean, that you *did* befriend," Angel corrected himself, finally moving to join Willow at the table.

"Angel, I am not in the mood to argue about Spike anymore, especially not with you," she said pointedly.  She felt like they were ganging up on her, but because she'd told Giles that she would listen to him, that's what she intended to do.  She just wished Angel would stay out of it.  He was far from unbiased on the subject of Spike.

Angel ran a finger along the smooth edge of the table, trying to appear calmer than he felt.  He knew he should keep his mouth shut, that Willow would probably listen to Giles long before she'd ever heed a piece of advice from his mouth, but he was worried about the redhead and wanted desperately to get through to her.

"I'm not trying to argue with you, Willow," he said in all sincerity.  "I'm simply warning you to be careful."

"Just be wary, Willow.  That's all we're asking," Giles added.  "And remember, even if it is *your* Spike and not the one that we've been dealing with, there is no way of knowing how he is going to behave toward you now.  I would imagine that the gloves have come off, so to speak."

Willow sighed, rolling her eyes before she could stop herself.  They just wouldn't listen.

"Look.  Spike has *no* desire to make me a vampire, if that's what you are getting at."

"How can you be so sure?" Giles questioned her carefully, knowing that she was reaching the end of her patience on this particular topic.  "Even if your Spike may not intend on changing you, it is entirely possible that the other version of Spike does.  While you had no way of knowing this, Willow, *our* Spike has alluded to doing precisely that on a few occasions recently.  He never harmed you or even approached you directly that I am aware of, but there were comments made, taunts really..."

Willow was taken by surprise to hear that Spike version 2.0, William the Bloody in her mind, had any plans for her whatsoever since he should have been unliving happily ever after with Drusilla.

"But...that Spike is gone, just like the other Willow is gone," she persisted weakly, even though the first shadow of a doubt began hedging its way into the back of her already befuddled brain.

Sensing that he'd gotten through to her, Giles patted her shoulder as she starred down at the table, a troubled look on her face.  "I really do hope you are right, Willow.  But please be careful until we know for sure, and even after that.  I am still of the mind that Spike, no matter which form, is hardly trustworthy."

Willow looked up at Giles, holding his determined gaze with her own.

"I will be careful, but you two also need to trust me and remember that I can take care of myself.  I do have some experience in that area, remember, Angel?" she boldly asked, switching her focus to the vampire who was watching her with quiet regard.

"I have *never* forgotten."

Angel's words, spoken with palatable intensity, hung between them, stealing the air from the room.  For a moment, it was only the two of them, Willow and Angel, and everything else slipped away as their eyes locked, sable brown to sea green.  Neither moved, afraid to break the spell that had them both holding their breath and unable to look away....

"I'll try, Willow," Giles spoke up, finding the silence between the two rather unsettling.

The spell was broken.  All too soon, a flushing Willow was turning to Giles, and Angel was scrutinizing the swirling pattern of the wooden tabletop, wondering if he'd imagined that one magical moment.

"However, no matter how old you are, Willow," Giles continued in his own dithering and yet endearing way, "I will still try to protect you.  You and the others are, quite frankly, like a family to me, Willow.  Actually, you *are* my family..."

Touched to the point of tears, Willow stood to envelop the man in a hug, which he quickly returned.

"I missed you, Giles...sorry I kinda yelled at you this morning" she murmured against his shoulder.

"Think nothing of it, Willow.  I was actually quite proud of you for standing up for yourself like that...no matter how *abrupt* your manner," Giles said with a soft smile as she pulled away to look up at him.

"Now," Willow sniffed, wiping away a joyful tear, "I think it's about time that I started to earn my keep.  You said something this morning about a demon you were trying to find information on?"

At the verge of tears himself and somewhat thankful for the chance to focus on something else, Giles quickly filled Willow in on what few details they had about the demon that had been spotted by Sunnydale citizens early that week.

"You're not familiar with it, Angel?" Willow asked in what she hoped was a casual tone.  She had quickly come to the realization that she was going to have to get used to working with Angel sooner or later despite their entangled history.  Even if she were successful in guiding the vampire and The Slayer into each other's arms, she'd still have to live with the memories of what had happened--and almost happened--between them.  Might as well start now.

"The description is pretty vague," he replied.  "It could be one of a hundred different demons I've encountered."

"What I think we need, Willow, is to see the original police reports that were filed by the two different individuals that spotted it," Giles suggested hopefully.

"Why, Mr. Giles...are you asking me, a minor, to break the law for you?" Willow said with pretend shock.

Giles sputtered for a moment before realizing that she was joking.  "Yes, Ms. Rosenberg, I suppose that is what I'm asking.  Do you have a problem with that?"

"Nope."  Willow stood up, her gaze travelling around the room and quickly finding the computers against a far wall.  Going to them, Willow pulled out the chair at one of the three computers and sat down, unaware of the looks being exchanged by Angel and the librarian.

Giles cleared his throat.  "Um, Willow, you usually use *this* computer," Giles hesitantly informed her, pointing to the one in the middle.  "You made some special modifications to it, apparently, just for these sorts of, er, more risky online searches."

"Oh...well...wasn't that clever of me?" Willow said softly, moving over to sit in front of the indicated computer.  After only a brief hesitation, Willow reached to turn the power on at the CPU, but Giles cleared his throat again.

"It should already be on, Willow," he said, tapping the keyboard and bringing the computer out of sleep mode.

"Oh...thank you, Giles."  Willow stared at the computer screen.  The information on the desktop was familiar, but as she gripped the mouse, it all felt alien to her.  Awkwardly, she maneuvered the mouse to open the browser and had to 'double-click' a few times until she'd performed it fast enough to start the application.  The whole time she was shifting in the seat, trying to get comfortable, fully aware that Giles was growing increasing impatient and that Angel was looking over her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Giles," she said, glancing up at his anxious face.  "I'm sure I remember this stuff.  I mean, if I still remember the theme to 'The Love Boat' and every line of Monty Python's parrot sketch, I'm sure I still remember how to hack into the Sunnydale Police Department's computer system...um, don't I?" she added, a little more unsure of herself.

"Perhaps this isn't the best way to discover just what you do remember as far as these infernal machines go," Giles calmly suggested, reaching over to commandeer the mouse and close the applications she had opened.  "One mistake trying to, well, *borrow* this information could land us all in a bit of hot water."  Giles turned to Angel who'd been watching from behind the redhead.  "Don't suppose Willow ever showed you..."

Angel shook his head.  "She always said she was going to, that she wanted to 'Teach me the ways of the dark side', computer-wise, anyway, but she never got much further than showing me how to perform some basic searches."

Willow swiveled around in the chair to face the vampire, a shocked expression marring her face.

"I-I said that?" she gasped.  "I said that I wanted to 'Teach you the ways of the dark side'?"

Angel leaned down, bringing his amused face a little nearer to hers.  He was close enough that he could detect the faint, familiar scent of vanilla, and perhaps a hint of jasmine, and yet it still felt as if she were a million miles away.

"Yes, Willow," he said lightly, hoping that he hadn't overstepped the ever-shifting boundaries that separated them.  "Except you said it in this deep, raspy voice...a very bad Darth Vader imitation, I think."

Willow was grinning before she could think better of it.  Her Darth Vader imitation was appalling, at best, and it had never failed to get a half-groan half-laugh from Xander...Spike, too, in fact.  But she had never dreamed that she'd do it in front of Angel.  Her grin faded to an embarrassed grimace.

"If it helps any, I always thought it was kind of sexy," Angel added huskily for her ears only, even though he knew he shouldn't.  Luckily, Giles had overheard, and in his best embarrassed-Englishman tone, spoke up before Willow had to decide how to handle Angel's obvious flirtation.

"Y-yes...well..." Giles stuttered, "As I was saying, Willow, since Ms. Chase and Mr. Harris should be arriving at any moment, this probably isn't the best time for you to throw yourself into a new project.  It can wait."

"But I don't mind and I want to help," Willow declared obstinately, rising from the chair with a determined gleam in her eye.  "Maybe I'll just stick to the old-fashioned way until I have a bit more time to refamiliarize myself with the PC."

"Willow, it *can* wait.  I was about to leave myself.  I've been here all day, after all, and this *is* Saturday," Giles insisted, but Willow was adamant about helping.

"That's a good idea, Giles.  You go home, or better yet, go see Ms. Calendar and have a nice long talk.  Bet you'll feel better in the morning," she insinuated.  Not stopping long enough for Giles to get a word in, Willow added, "I'll just have a look at a book or two while we wait for the others.  Night Giles...tell Jenny good night for me, too," she said with both a dismissive tone and a wicked grin before heading for the stacks.  She left in her wake a thoroughly bewildered Giles and one amused and hopeful vampire.

Needing to be useful in someway, Willow grabbed a few unfamiliar books that mentioned demons in the title and plopped down in the leather wing-backed chair to glance through them as she waited.  Once he gathered his wits about him, Giles bid goodnight to everyone before leaving for the night.

Willow leafed through the books, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing.  She couldn't understand it.  She remembered everything, she remembered sitting at the computer--the one in the school library and her own, that is--and the various steps she'd have to go through to break into another mainframe.  Yet, when she had sat in front of the screen, it was like she'd never done it before.  It was as if she'd seen the actions performed a million times but her body was unfamiliar with the movements.  Even holding the mouse and sitting at the computer had felt foreign to her.  Willow's scowl deepened as she realized it was going to be harder than she'd thought to step back into her old life.  The lie they'd created to keep the others from getting suspicious would only work for so long.

Willow had just made a mental note to use her home computer for a crash course in the basics so she could assume her familiar researching role as soon as possible, when Xander and Cordelia sauntered in, hand-in-hand.

"Hello everyone," Xander said exuberantly, announcing their presence.  "We have arrived and therefore we can now leave."  When it was obvious by the lack of people jumping to their feet and rushing for the door that they weren't ready to head for The Bronze, not to mention the fact that Buffy was nowhere to be seen, the pair wandered over to the seating area.  "And how are we feeling, Willow?"

"Just dandy, Xander, thanks," Willow replied with a warm smile for her old friend.  "You look lovely tonight, Cordelia," she added genuinely, taking in the cheerleader's flattering outfit.  Now that Willow could honestly say she'd gotten over her crush on Xander 'ages' ago, she figure it couldn't hurt to really try to befriend the other girl.

"Thanks, Willow," Cordelia responded with a tinge of surprise in her voice.  "And you look nice tonight, too...different, but in a good way..." she quickly added.

"Thank you," Willow replied sweetly, a little surprised herself.

"And where's the Buffster?" Xander asked, plopping down on the couch across from Willow.  "Oh, let me guess.  She's doing those mysterious womanly things that somehow manage to make beautiful women look even more gorgeous.  Am I right?"

"Speaking of which, I think I'll go and do the same," Cordelia added, then disappeared down the hallway.

Watching his girlfriend walk away, Xander then turned back to Willow.  "But I can always count on you not to desert me in favor of the 'primping until we make everyone late' ritual.  Right, Willow?"

"Because Willow doesn't need to," Angel informed the dark-haired youth as he approached the seating area.  Willow glanced up at the vampire to find him concentrating on Xander, much to her relief.  She wasn't quite sure how to take his last comment, but she was sure that one look in his soulful eyes would go a long way towards clearing up that little mystery--one that she would prefer stayed muddy, thank you very much.

Angel was glaring at Xander.  He'd barely been able to restrain himself from adding, "She's already beautiful."  Let alone, "She's the most amazing creature that I have ever known."  And yet he doubted Willow would appreciate such remarks coming from him, no matter how true they were.  Besides, he already had two years of practice at hiding his feelings about Willow from everyone, including a version of Willow herself.  He could hide them a while longer, he hoped.  But if Xander continued to say such thoughtless things, inadvertently slighting the redhead who was supposed to be his best friend, Angel just might have to throttle the boy until he opened his eyes and truly looked at Willow.

"Watcha reading there, Willow?" Xander inquired, oblivious to the drama around him.

"I'm trying to find something on that demon Giles is interested in," Willow answered absent-mindedly.  Truthfully, her mind was too busy reliving her recent failure at the computer to even notice what was on the pages in front of her.

Guessing that Willow had been shaken by her inability to fulfill what she probably saw as her researching duties, Angel tried to put her at ease.

"Don't worry, Willow," Angel said, casually taking a seat on the arm of her chair and draping his arm across its back.  "We'll figure out what it is before it has time to do any major damage, we always do.  Besides, we don't even know if it's evil or--"

"No!" Willow yelped out of the blue, and Angel's speech was halted by the force of Willow's shoulder catching him in the chin as she launched herself to her feet, knocking the vampire off the chair and onto the floor.

Xander leapt up, his eyes darting wildly about the room.

"Willow!  What's wrong?" he asked, his cries echoed by Buffy and Cordelia as they rushed back into the room, hair brushes in hand.

Willow was mortified.  One minute she was attempting to do some research, the next she was back in the mansion in London, Angelus lounging on the arm of her chair as he plotted her dark fate.  Ashamed for scaring everyone, Willow glanced between the worried faces of her friends, but was once again unable to make herself look at Angel, who was getting to his feet.

"I--I...there was a, um, a spider...a *huge* spider..." she stammered, desperate for any plausible explanation for her behavior.

Hearing the news, Xander instantly dropped back onto the couch, curling his feet beneath him so that he wasn't touching the floor.  Cordelia practically sprinted for the seat next to him, shifting around until her petite feet were resting on her boyfriend's lap, eyes wide and frantically scanning the floor around them.

"It was running back toward the hallway," Willow added guiltily.

"Was it a hellmouthy spider or simply a well-fed one?"  Buffy calmly asked as she peered under chairs and tables.

"Oh, um, it looked pretty normal to me, other than its grotesque size," Willow said, embellishing her lie.  "Um, why don't you check in here, Buffy, while I check the hallway," she added, already heading for the hall and away from Angel.

Willow made her way hurriedly to the kitchen, not even pretending to look for the imaginary spider.

Arriving in the small, spotless kitchenette, Willow leaned her forehead against the cool refrigerator, pounding softly on its 'fingerprint-proof surface' with clenched fists.

"Stupid...stupid...stupid..." she muttered angrily to herself.  And just when she thought she'd stood a chance of being able to work along side the vampire, too...

She didn't have long to berate herself for over-reacting before Angel found her.  At any other time, the sight of Willow boxing with the appliance would have brought a smile to his face but not this night.

"I'm sorry, Willow," Angel's sincere voice came from behind her, his velvety tones caressing her skin in a way that he didn't dare.  Willow spun around, her already flushed cheeks receiving another injection of fresh blood at the thought of Angel seeing her in such a flustered state.

"Oh, it's not your fault, Angel," she said with a weak smile, the only one she could manage at the moment.  "A good exterminator will help.  Or maybe Jenny knows an effective insect-repelling spell.  Although, technically, spiders aren't really insects, are they?" she babbled, preferring even childish prattle to discussing what had just happened.  Unfortunately, one quick glimpse at Angel and the sympathetic expression he wore, and even her ability to babble was stripped away.

Quickly turning from him, Willow looked in the sink for a dish to wash or crumb on the counter to wipe away, but there was nothing to do, no obvious task to distract her from the situation.

"Willow," Angel said, taking a few cautious steps further into the room.  "We both know there wasn't a spider.  It was me you were reacting to..."  Angel waited for a response from the redhead, even a weakly muttered denial, but she remained silent, her back towards him.  "Is my being near you that painful, Willow?"

It was the anguish in his voice that made Willow face the somber vampire again.

"No...it's not that, Angel.  I-I'm sorry.  I wasn't thinking, but for a moment..."  Willow covered her face with trembling hands.  She was ashamed that she'd freaked out from something so commonplace and didn't really want to talk about it.  Why couldn't she just forget about him?  About Angelus?  Hadn't her nightmares become almost nonexistent after Spike's strange therapy back in Vienna?  She'd even staked him, albeit via Spike, for goodness sake!  Why now was she being turned into a simpering idiot from such a simple gesture on his part?

Angel took a step closer but stopped himself.  More than anything he wished he could fold the shaking redhead into his arms, hold her against his chest and soothe away her troubles and fears the way he had in Galway when he'd been alive.  But he didn't, not even wanting to imagine what Willow's reaction might be if he were to actually touch her.

"I should have realized..." he began regretfully, his chin falling to his chest as his eyes closed.  "It's a habit, I guess.  I didn't think...."

Willow peaked out from between her fingers.  "Habit?" she repeated in a near squeak.  "Do you...did you sit by me...by the other Willow...like that a lot?" she asked, her hands falling away.

Angel looked up at her, urged on by the change in her tone.  "I've been known to perch."

"But you aren't supposed to perch," she insisted in a firmer voice, her no-longer-shaking hands thrusting out at her sides in emphasis.  "You're supposed to lurk...lean against a bookshelf in a shadowy corner somewhere, hands in your pockets and a grim look on your face."

Angel was taken aback.  "You want me to lurk about, hide in my own home?"

"No...yes...Oh, I don't know!" she whined, spinning around to try to hide her growing frustration from the ever-patient vampire.

"What if I promise to lurk before I perch?" he teased, trying to break the tension.

"Angel--" Willow groaned, rolling her eyes at his perseverance as she turned back to face him.

"I'm sorry, Willow," Angel said sincerely, taking a few steps closer to the distressed redhead.  "I'll be more careful from now on.  I don't want you to be afraid--"

"I'm not afraid of you," Willow informed him haughtily, her eyes flashing in annoyance at the thought.  "You just caught me off guard, that's all.  The last time you perched like that, well..."

"You don't have to say it.  As I said before, Willow, I remember everything...everything I *ever* said and did to you, Willow," he said solemnly, his eyes roaming over her flushed face, searching for any sign of understanding.

"Angel, I know you have your soul now.  I don't doubt that at all.  And I know that it was a long time ago, for you anyway, and that you regret what happened, but I can't just forget it that easily.  As much as I know that you don't want to hurt me anymore, sometimes when I look at you..."

"Go on," Angel urged, hopeful that they were finally going to have a long-overdue discussion.

"...I see...Angelus," she admitted reluctantly.  "I see the vampire that longed to torture me and enjoyed seeing me fall apart, begging for mercy at his feet.  I remember it all, Angel.  As if it were yesterday.  Everything that ever happened between us..."

"Everything?"

Willow nodded, gnawing gently on her lower lip in an attempt to fight back tears.

"Then you also remember what happened between us *before* Darla came to Galway," he said, his voice raw with emotion.

"Of course I do, Angel, but I--"

"Is it gone?" Xander's panicked voice bellowed down the hallway, interrupting Willow's answer.  "Did you find the big hairy evil that walks on many legs?"

Once again, Angel had to resist slugging the boy.  As much as he liked Xander, he had the worst timing.

"We're just getting rid of it now," Willow called back loudly, turning the water on in the sink for a moment to make it sound as if they'd washed the arachnid away.  "It's gone!"

"Well, let's get going then, before its family decides to exact some revenge," Xander responded from back in the main room.

"Willow?" Angel pressed, not wanting to simply forget about the conversation that the youth had interrupted.

Willow took a small step closer to the vampire, absentmindedly twisting the ring on her finger.  The simple gesture was not lost on Angel.

"I can't do this now, Angel.  I need time," she said softly, peering up at the Irish vampire, hoping he'd understand.

"Sure, Willow," he said with an understanding smile that he hoped masked his true disappointment.  "Take your time."

*****

Angel watched Willow as best he could while at the same time trying not to be too obvious about it.  As soon as they'd entered The Bronze he'd made an excuse not to immediately follow the others to their usual table, mentioning that he wanted to just wander around a bit, see if he could overhear anyone talking about the latest demon.  It was a lousy excuse, as far as excuses go, but no one had questioned him.  In fact, he thought he detected a soft sigh of relief from Willow at the notion of being free from his presence for a while.  He understood her relief, and yet that simple escape of breath cut him more deeply than any knife could.

In fact, Angel had offered not to go to The Bronze in the first place, thinking that after their rather intense conversation in the kitchen that it might be best if he kept his distance for the night, but the others wouldn't hear of it.  As much as he tried to beg off, Buffy answered every one of his excuses with a reason of her own for why he should come.  After five minutes of this type of banter, Willow had finally spoken up, albeit reluctantly, and told Angel that he should accompany them to The Bronze.  So with a small apologetic smile for Willow, he'd tagged along, just like it was any other Saturday night.

Now, standing in back of the crowded room by the bar, Angel realized that he was finally doing what Willow expected of him.  He was lurking and brooding.  Smirking at the irony, Angel continued to sip his cooling cup of coffee, studying her over its rim the whole time.  She was good, he realized after only a few minutes of watching her interact with the others.  For the most part Willow was able to hide her obviously conflicting emotions from the others.  From what he could tell from across the room, Willow laughed at the appropriate times, answered the questions asked of her, and even managed to initiate a dialogue once or twice herself.  Yet, it was glaringly obvious to Angel that this wasn't the same girl who had last sat at the very same table with them, and he couldn't help being a little dismayed that the others couldn't see the truth as well.

He took another gulp of the tepid brew, grimacing at the notion that Buffy and the others hardly seemed to notice that their friend was quieter than normal.  Even if they simply chalked that up to Jenny's lie about a spell casting gone wrong, they had eyes, didn't they?  While her face was the same, nothing else was.  Willow held herself differently.  Everything from how she sat on the stool to how she held her head had changed, matured.  While Angel could see she wasn't completely comfortable with her current situation, the redhead still displayed certain poise and grace that the 17-year-old version of her hadn't yet possessed.  Her voice had also mellowed over time, and even though she seemed to choose her words carefully when with her friends, when she let her guard down, Angel detected just the slightest hint of an accent...Sometimes British, sometimes European, but it was there.

And then there were her eyes....

While Willow had spent her afternoon in long talks with Jenny, Angel had tossed and turned on his bed, trying to sleep, but instead being haunted by images of the redhead.  Or, to be more exact, her eyes...beckoning, warning, widening in fear, narrowing in anger...and all for him.  How the others could miss the wisdom and age in their green depths was beyond his understanding.  If nothing else did, her eyes truly gave away what an old soul she was.

"Willow's different tonight," Buffy said, startling the preoccupied vampire as she sidled up beside him.

"You noticed?" he asked her, embarrassed once again that he'd been caught off guard.

"How could anyone *not* notice?" Buffy commented, glancing back at where Willow sat alone at the table, watching Cordelia and Xander dance.  "The clothes, the makeup...it's almost like she's trying to impress someone."

Angel's lips tightened and he let out a soft grunt.  Buffy hadn't really noticed the change in Willow, not the important ones anyway.

"Well, old man, since you seem to be done eaves-dropping on the general populace, it's time to join the rest of us." Without giving the vampire a chance to argue, Buffy took Angel's hand and pulled him along behind her, leading him, coffee cup and all, back to their table.

"Look who I found all by his lonesome," Buffy said coyly to Willow as she pushed him into a seat across from the redhead.  Then glancing over by the door, Buffy suddenly began bouncing on the balls of her feet.  "Ooh, he's here!"  Her excited grin changed to panic, and she looked at Willow and Angel with wide eyes.  "How do I look?" she asked, hastily checking the thin straps of her white top and smoothing her blonde hair.

"You look beautiful, Buffy," Willow replied honestly.  "Doesn't she, Angel?" she asked without looking at the vampire.

Without waiting for a further response from either Willow or Angel, Buffy grabbed her glass, dumping what little liquid it contained into Willow's glass.  "Oh, look at that.  We're almost out of drinks.  I guess I'll just have to go get us some more.  Wish me luck," she added with a sly smile, then disappeared into the crowd, leaving Willow and Angel by themselves.

Willow gave the vampire a nervous smile, which he gratefully returned.  It was inevitable, she supposed, that sooner or later she and Angel would end up alone at the table, but that didn't make it any less uncomfortable.  She would have been perfectly happy to sit by herself and listen to the music.  As much as she'd grown to love all types of music during her time in the past, she did miss modern songs.  Willow was relieved, in a way, that Oz's band wasn't providing the entertainment.  Even though she'd longed to see him play, considering the circumstances, she wasn't sure how well she'd handle that particular scene at the moment.  Yep, she was perfectly happy to sit and listen to the prerecorded pop music, try to figure out the guitar fingering in her head, and watch Xander and Cordelia dance.

But now she couldn't...not with Angel so close by.  So instead she found herself staring at the now half-full glass that she cradled in her hands, wishing that it contained something stronger than soda.  It seemed like the perfect time for a glass of Merlot...brandy or cognac would do in a pinch.  But instead she was drinking the Coke that she'd yearned for.

"I should leave."

Angel's words broke into Willow's thoughts, and she glanced up at the sullen vampire with only a twinge of guilt for having ignored him.

"Obviously you aren't comfortable having me here..." he continued, sliding off the stool.

"I don't think I'd be comfortable whether you were here or not, Angel," she said genuinely.  "And if you usually come with them...er, I mean us, then you should be here."

"You sure?"

She shrugged.  After all, not only did she have no right to ask him to leave, she still had to find a way to work with him.  "As sure as I am about anything at the moment."

Angel resumed his previous seat, and there was more uncomfortable silence as they both took turns glancing nervously between their drinks and each other.  A few times Angel's head tilted to the side, his lips separating ever so slightly with the beginnings of a conversation poised on his lips, but the words never came.

"Um, Buffy looks nice tonight, don't you think?" Willow finally blurted out in an innocent tone to break the silence, but she didn't fool Angel for a second.

"Buffy always looks nice, Willow," Angel said without even turning to look at The Slayer.

"True, but tonight she looks *especially* nice," Willow insisted, watching the blonde behind Angel, talking to a sandy-haired boy that Willow vaguely recognized.

"Yes, she does," Angel replied, finally glancing over his shoulder at where Buffy was standing.  "She's been trying to get the courage to ask Jason out for over a month now."  Angel turned back to Willow, a smile small on his lips.  "I hope she's finally taking my advice."

Willow wasn't sure which disturbed her more.  The fact that Angel was giving romantic advice or seeing the proof that Buffy was clearly interested in someone other than Angel.

"Your advice?" she asked.

"Life's too short not to take a few risks."

Unbidden, Angelus's words sprang into Willow's mind.  <It's life, Rose...without risk, there isn't much point ta either.>

As Angel watched, Willow visibly paled, the color draining from her face as her fingers tightened around the glass she was holding.  It took him a second to realize that he'd brought up unwanted memories yet again.

He reached across the table, intending to take the glass out of her hand before it shattered in her desperate grip, but she jerked away from his touch, leaving the intact tumbler behind, wobbling unsteadily for a moment before coming to a stop on the table.

"Willow..." he sighed plaintively, lost as how to help her.

"I'm sorry, Angel," she said desperately, hating her instinctive reactions to the vampire across from her.  "I don't know what's wrong with me tonight."

Angel leaned forward, waiting for Willow to look at him.  "Willow, we can't go on like this," he gently insisted when her flushed face finally found his.  "Every look I give you, every thing I say reminds you of our past."

"I know you don't do it on purpose."

"But I'm still hurting you, whether I mean to or not, aren't I?"

Willow let out a small, sad laugh.  "Angelus would be so proud of you..."  Angel winced, and Willow's hands flew to her mouth in shame for what she'd just uttered.  "Oh god, Angel...I didn't mean that!"

"Yes, you did," he said understandingly, if not a bit sadly.  "It's okay, Willow.  You should be angry with me--"

"I-I'm not angry with you, Angel," she said truthfully.  "I admit I'm not dealing with this as well as I should be, but I'll get better at it.  I promise."  She forced a smile, hoping he'd leave it at that, but he didn't.

"Better at what, Willow?  Ignoring me, forgetting the past, repressing your feelings?" he asked, surprising even himself with his bluntness.

Her fake smile rapidly fading, Willow eased off of the stool, overwhelmed by the need to distance herself from him again.

"Angel, I said I need time.  You've had a couple of years to adjust to the fact that you have to see me every day.  I haven't had that luxury," she reminded him as Angel rose to impede her getaway.

"Willow, I'll give you all the time you need, but you need to stop running away."

"For your information, I'm not running away.  I'm...I'm going to the ladies room."  Without giving Angel a chance to argue, Willow spun around and walked away.

She didn't really need to go to the bathroom.  Angel was right...she'd wanted to run away from him, but since he'd called her on it, she'd have to settle for a leisurely visit to the restroom.  She only hoped that by the time she returned to the table, the others would have rejoined them.

Willow took her time in the ladies room, in no hurry whatsoever to sit across from Angel again.  She wasn't angry with him, exactly.  She didn't hate him or wish that he suffered years of guilt for what he'd done to her.  Willow just wished he wasn't so...obstinate, determined, attentive, concerned, caring, handsome, sexy....  She sighed.  It would be so much easier if he'd just go back to ignoring her the way he had in the original time line.

Stalling, Willow was once again studying her reflection, trying to decide how much of her hair to have chopped off, when Harmony strolled in, stopping in front of the mirror to check her already-perfect makeup.

"Great outfit, Willow," Harmony quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she eyed Willow's reflection up and down.

Willow turned to the blonde, a slightly puzzled look on her face.

"Really?" she replied, surprised.  "Personally I think it's frumpy and hardly shows off my nice figure.  But, tell you what, Harmony...if you like it, you can find it in Goodwill next week.  I plan on cleaning out my closets this weekend."

And with that, Willow finally exited the ladies room, head held high, a tiny but very satisfied smile on her lips.  Just as Willow was ready to break into an ear-to-ear grin for the shocked look on the other girl's face, her green eyes settled on a pair of familiar blue ones near the exit.  They narrowed slightly when she locked on them, and before Willow could move closer, the blue eyes and their blond-haired owner disappeared from the club.

Without thinking, Willow started to make her way for the front door, winding her way through the crowd and jostling a few elbows as she went.  When Willow was finally able to escape the building, she stood outside the front door, searching up and down the street for any sign of Spike, but he was nowhere to be seen.  Knowing that she hadn't simply imagined that glimpse of shocking-blond hair, she decided to walk around a little.

She only had to stroll about a block up from the teen hangout before finally spotting the English vampire.  Spike was leaning against a lamppost in the middle of an empty corner lot that had once been a gas station, smoking a cigarette.  He was back in the familiar garb that she'd always associated with him...the black jeans, tee, and red shirt, all encased in a long, worn leather duster with great pockets.  The vampire really did look like Spike, but at that angle, Willow couldn't detect the cross-shaped scar that only 'her' Spike should have.

Willow walked carefully toward him, stopping when she was about 15 feet away, suddenly unsure of herself under the blond vampire's blank gaze.  She wasn't afraid, she told herself, just overly cautious as all of the warnings about Spike possibly being different now came to mind.  What if he really didn't remember what had happened between them?  After all, that would go a long way towards explaining why he hadn't tracked her down earlier.

Willow's heart grew heavy as they continued to silently scrutinize each other from a distance.  She didn't think she could take another disappointment, but she waited...hoping...

Spike was the first to break the stalemate.  He dropped his smoke, grinding it out with his boot before taking a casual step toward her, head tilted to the side as he looked Willow up and down.

"Hello, my little virgin," Spike finally said, but with a definite questioning lilt.

Willow's face erupted into a smile at the familiar greeting, but she held back.  After all, William had heard Spike call her that several times.  He could just be the 'William Spike' and not the 'Spike Spike', she told herself.  Willow hated that she was having doubts, but by the blond vampire's hesitation, it looked like he wasn't completely sure who she was either.

Spike clenched his jaw, pursing his lips as he took a few lazy strides closer.

"Tell me something, Red, and be honest now...Does this coat make me look fat?" he asked straight-faced before twirling around a few times, the leather of his duster flaring dramatically as he spun.

Willow was running towards him before he even completed his model-like turns. She jumped into his arms, her enthusiasm almost knocking him over.  She wrapped her arms tightly about the vampire, letting her fingers dig into the leather of his duster.

"I thought you didn't remember me," she murmured against his shoulder, relief tainting her every word.

Spike held her tightly to him, his long fingers gently stroking her hair at the same time.  He, too, was relieved to find that this was in fact *his* Willow and not the other version.

"Now why would you think a bloody stupid thing like that?"

Willow pulled back to look up at Spike incredulously, the scar that she'd given him now very apparent under the fluorescent lamp light.

"Why?" she repeated more loudly.

Spike couldn't contain his grin any longer.  "Pet, what could possibly make you think we wouldn't both remember everything, Rose Smith, Violet Jones, Willow Rosenberg?"

Willow smacked him on the chest, which only made his grin widen.

"'Oh, don't worry, Pet,'" she drawled, mimicking the vampire before her to the best of her abilities.  "'You won't remember a bloody thing, luv.'  Sound familiar?" she ended with a huff.

Spike pursed his lips, looking very thoughtful as he grasped her hands in his, gently pulling her away from the street and into the privacy of the shadows.

"Benny Hill on estrogen therapy, perhaps?" he teased.  She scowled but it soon melted away under Spike's infectious grin.

"Well, I'm glad you think its funny, Spike," Willow began, "But because you were wrong, I wasn't ready...things are different--"

"Too bloody right, things are different, Pet," Spike cut in enthusiastically, suddenly embracing her again, spinning them around a few times before placing the surprised and dizzy redhead back on solid ground. "Drusilla...she's...couldn't have asked for better, Red," Spike said, having trouble finding the right words to express his emotions.  "She's back...she's almost sane...and she's all mine.  Crikey, she practically worships the ground I walk on!"

Willow couldn't help smiling at the babbling vampire.  She'd never seen him like this before, behaving like a giddy schoolgirl after her first kiss--although she doubted that he'd appreciate such a comparison.  For a brief moment, Willow was too caught up in Spike's happiness to worry about her own little problems.

"Everything worked then, Spike?  She's..." Willow trailed off.  She had too many questions and no words for any of them.

"Yes!  Everything bloody worked.  I don't quite know exactly how much my Dark Goddess knows yet, about what happened with the spell and all.  I've had trouble keeping her tongue out of my mouth long enough to talk about anything," he added with a wink and a truly lewd grin.

"Spare me the visuals, Spike," Willow groaned.  "One-hundred-and-something-year-old virgin here, remember?"

"What, still?" he jested.  "We've been back for 24 hours, Red.  What have you been doing all this time?  Checking your email?"

"Well...I...um..."

"Dropped by your place last night and you weren't there," Spike casually informed the flustered redhead as he took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his coat pocket.  "I assumed you'd gone straight to the dog's place for a quick game of fetch the bone--"

"Spike!" Willow hissed, too annoyed at his word choice to think to correct him about Oz.

"Sorry, Red," he said in tone that made it obvious that he wasn't in the least bit sorry.  "'Course I meant to say 'make mad passionate love, birds singing, music soaring, fat little cherubs weeping, fireworks...er, working...'"  Spike trailed off, his enthusiasm fading a bit at the idea of her 'first' being with some inexperienced pup--a clumsy teen with the wrong kind of biting tendency.  As she rolled her eyes at him yet again, Spike slid a cigarette between his lips and quickly lit it, taking a moment to study the virgin before him as he took the first long draw.  That wasn't his concern, he reminded himself.  Besides, knowing Willow, Spike was quite sure that she'd already planned the losing of her virginity down to the smallest detail.

"Wait...You stopped by to check on me?" Willow asked, breaking in on Spike's intimate thoughts, a smile softening her face.

"Course, I did," Spike replied, slightly insulted by her surprise.  "I had to shag Dru into unconsciousness first so I could sneak away, but then I popped by for a chat.  When you weren't home, figured you'd gone to show the dog some of those new tricks I taught you..."

"Spike..."

The vampire frowned when he couldn't easily lure her into an argument.  There was something wrong, and he could have kicked himself for not noticing it earlier.  Now he just had to get it out of her.

"So, Willow...why aren't you with Jo-Jo--"

"Oz," she corrected the vampire automatically, as she had a hundred times before.

"Whatever," he retorted, as expected in their little name game.  "Spill it, Red.  Where were you last night if you weren't out scratching a rather persistent itch?"

Willow sighed, too weary of it all to even get annoyed with Spike's phrasing.  She turned away from the vampire to stare back toward the club.  "That's kind of a funny story, Spike."

Spike groaned.  "By the look on your face, I'm assuming that, once again, it isn't funny 'ha-ha,' is it?"

"Is it ever?"

"Good point."  Spike dropped his half-smoked cigarette to put his hands lightly on her shoulders, instantly noticing how tense she was.  In silence, he expertly massaged her tight muscles until he felt some of her tension ease, then asked softly, "Care to share the joke now, love?"

"It's...complicated, Spike," she answered, leaning back against his chest, his very nearness soothing her more than anything else had been able to since her arrival in Sunnydale.  While their relationship had quit being a sexual one ages ago, after Vienna it had slowly become more tactile again.  Time--once an enemy--had smoothed the ragged edges of their friendship, molding it into something they could both comfortably hold on to.

"I take it your old friends aren't bearing the news of our trip very well," he guessed, draping his arms lightly across her chest in an easy embrace.  "Should I expect The Slayer and her pals to be banging on my door soon, crosses at the ready?"

"Buffy doesn't know...no one does.  Well, Jenny and Giles do know some of it, and Angel, of course, but I wasn't ready to tell everyone...too many questions that I'm just not ready to answer.  Oh, and you're safe from them for now because of the prophecy."

"Prophecy?"

Willow took a deep breath before she launched into another explanation.  It felt like all she'd done since arriving back in Sunnydale was talk, but Spike needed to know what was going on.

"It's complicated," she repeated, wanting to cut to the point, "but basically the Rom invented a bunch of prophecies to insure that history didn't change too much and that the other versions of us stayed safe until the spell was completed."

"That would explain a few things," Spike admitted with a shrug.  "Always worried a bit that the other Spike would go and get us killed.  What did the prophecy say?"

Willow giggled as she remembered what Jenny had told her earlier that day.  "Something about merging roads and weeping trees.  Basically, just a whole lot of flowery speech for 'Kill Spike and Willow will be pissed,' I think.  Lucky for us Jenny knew the truth."

"I always knew that old Gypsy woman had a thing for me," Spike laughed as he recalled his solicitous reading with Tekla.  "When she read my palm, the old bird held on to my hand a little too long, if you know what I mean."

Willow turned in the vampire's arms to look up at him.  "You know, you never did tell me what Tekla said when she read your palm," she hinted, eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

"Didn't I?"

"No."

"You sure?  Could have sworn I did, Pet."

"Spike...."

"You must have forgotten...getting a little senile in our old age, are we?" he teased mercilessly, just happy to see her smiling again.

Willow gave up, knowing him well enough to realize that he wasn't going to share that bit of information with her at the moment.  With a quiet laugh, she turned around to lean back against his chest, taking comfort in his familiar arms once again.  But she couldn't resist stretching out their playful banter a little bit longer.

"You are evil, Spike," she sighed, the repetitiveness of the familiar phrase setting her at ease.

"And don't you ever forget it, Red," he murmured against her hair, finishing their common verbal game.  Despite the easy conversation, Spike could tell that Willow was still troubled.  And he had little doubt now that the cause of her discomfort had something to do with his sire.

"According to my sources," Spike began cautiously, "Angel still bears the terrible burden of his soul."  Willow could only nod.  "And to ease his tortured soul, the great poofter's still turned against his own kind to fight alongside The Slayer."

"You could say that..." she responded uneasily, causing Spike to firmly turn the redhead around, holding her at arm's length until she looked up at him.

"Then why the long face?" he queried, brushing a thumb across her cheek as if to wipe away her sad expression.  "All's right with the world, Red," he added fervently, hoping some of his good spirits would rub off on the redhead.  "We actually pulled the bloody thing off, didn't we?  We got we what we wanted.  I have Dru, and there's no bloody Angelus for anyone to worry about, ever again."

"Spike," Willow began, reluctant to ruin his light-hearted mood, "Things are a little different--"

"Damn," he interrupted with a snarl, his eyes focused over her shoulder.  "Have to play catch up later, Red.  We've got company."

"Bloody hell..." Willow said under her breath.  Turning to find Buffy coming down the street toward them, Willow moved to step out of Spike's arms.  "Remember, she doesn't know, Spike."

"It's too late...Slayer's seen you with me..." he said under his breath.  Willow didn't notice the mischievous gleam in his eyes until it was too late.  Spike pulled her back against him, one arm around her waist, the other gently across her collarbone.  "Come on, kids, let's put on a show," he whispered gleefully into her ear.

"Spike..." Willow said between gritted teeth as she realized what Spike wanted to do.  "I don't know if this is a good idea..."

"Willow!" Buffy gasped, now certain that it was her red-headed friend being held by the blond vampire.  She stopped a safe distance away, not wanting to provoke the vampire into hurting Willow.  "Are you okay?"

Willow nodded nervously, unsure what to do.  She didn't want to get Spike hurt, but she didn't want to reveal the truth yet, either.  She'd have to trust that Spike knew what he was doing.

"I'd say it was nice to see you again, Slayer, but lies do not become us, do they?" Spike asked, straight-faced and in his best James Bond villain tone.  Then he grinned in spite of himself.  "Oh, who the bloody hell am I trying to fool?  Lies become me beautifully.  So lovely to see you again, Slayer."

"Can't say I feel the same way, Spike," Buffy smirked as she took a stake out of her waistband.  "Now let my friend go and then you can crawl back under some tombstone with the rest of the slime."

"You haven't changed a bit, Slayer," he commented, his grin not fading an ounce.  "Pity, that."

"Spike..." Willow hissed in warning under her breath, trying not to move her lips.  "Don't push your luck...."

"Don't be such a spoil sport," Spike murmured in her ear before nipping the lobe playfully.  Willow hardly felt it, but by the way Buffy tensed up, she was sure that the nibble had appeared rather vicious.

"No, Spike...please..." Willow wailed, quite convincingly, too, because she really didn't want to play.  She was sure if Buffy listened closely, The Slayer would be able to tell that her tone was more whiny and irritated than scared.

Buffy stalked closer, her eyes quickly scanning Willow for any obvious injuries, relieved that she looked unhurt, for now.  "Get your paws off of her, Spike.  Or I swear you'll be dust before the sun comes up, prophecy or no prophecy!" she warned the vampire.  Simultaneously, The Slayer was trying to formulate any kind of plan that could get Willow away from Spike without her getting hurt, while still abiding by the warnings not to harm the annoying vampire.

Spike grinned wickedly, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.  "No, I quite like having my paws on the little lady, actually."  He glanced at the flustered redhead in his arms, hugging her even more tightly to him.  On a whim, Spike trailed the very tip of his tongue slowly up the side of her neck, watching the Slayer's growing anger the whole time.  "In fact, I'm starting to think she likes me having my paws on her as well.  Don't ya, Red?" he asked, his lips lightly brushing across the warm, sensitive skin below her ear.

Willow tried to manage a fake whimper of fright, but it came out as more of a giggle.  She couldn't help it.  The situation really was quite funny, when she thought about it.  Besides, he'd purposely licked her in a spot where he knew she was incredibly ticklish.

"Let her go, Spike," Buffy demanded, inching forward and disgusted at her own inability to do anything about the way the vampire was handling Willow.  "It's me you want."

"Oh yeah, right, Slayer.  *You're* the one I want," he laughed in disgust, but even though he was nearly in tears, he had the presence of mind to keep them a safe distance from the closing slayer.  "Still under the illusion that the world revolves around you?"  He shook his head, making a clucking sound with his tongue.  "Now, this might come as a bit of a shock, blondie, but I've seen the world...it didn't ask about you."

"Spike," Buffy said in an irritated tone, lifting her stake a little higher, "you're under the mistaken impression that I care what you say.  That anybody does, actually."

"You are so behind the times, Slayer...it's sad really."

Willow struggled against the vampire's hold, or at least it appeared that way to the enraged slayer.  In truth, the redhead just wanted to turn around in his arms so she could whisper in his ear.  Luckily, Spike seemed to be reading her mind since he let her shift in his arms.

"Spike..." Willow hissed into his ear as she pretended to push at his chest, as if trying to put some distance between their bodies, "I know you're having yourself a grand old time, but if Angel comes out and sees this...He really thinks you're going to kill me, Spike.  No prophecy will keeping him from staking you...I think he's just a tad miffed..."  Willow felt the vampire tighten his grip, his whole body stiffening.

"Too late, Pet..." he informed her in a low voice, before spinning Willow back around so she could see the action.  "Daddy's home."

Angel was striding purposefully up the street towards them, Cordelia and Xander at his heels.  With each brisk stride that brought the vampire closer, Willow felt the beating of her heart quicken its pace.  He was furious, that much was obvious for all to see, but Willow recognized other emotions etched just as deeply in his features.  He was seriously concerned for her safety.  What little fun Willow was having with Spike's game, faded guiltily away.

"Back up and let me handle this, Buffy," Angel said curtly, not even sparing a glance at The Slayer as he came up along side her.  "This is between me and him."

"Looks to me like *Willow* is between you and Spike," Xander quipped, earning him a scathing glare from Angel that sent him retreating sheepishly, Cordelia in tow.

Willow held her breath as Angel took a few steps closer then stopped.  Unfortunately, Buffy was being stubborn, and even a stern look from Angel wasn't enough to make her forsake her friend.  It wasn't until Willow nodded her head slightly, faking a brave smile and signaling that it was okay for Buffy to do as Angel wished, that the blonde finally, albeit reluctantly, backed away.  Willow was relieved, because now they'd be able to talk without her friends hearing what was being said, if they kept their voices down.

Angel's voice was surprisingly calm yet loud enough for all to hear.  "Spike, this is the only warning I'm ever going to give you.  Leave Willow alone, pack up Drusilla, and get the hell out of my town.  If I *ever* see your scarred face around here again, you'll regret it.  That's a promise...and I keep my promises, Spike."

"What, no kiss hello?" Spike pouted.  "The prodigal son returns and not even a Hallmark card to mark the occasion?  And after all I've done for you, too..."

Angel took a step closer, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.  "What part of 'leave Willow alone' do you not understand, Spike?" he growled, drawing a flinch from Willow as the low, menacing sound reverberated through her.

"Only the part that makes you think you can tell me what to do, Angelus," Spike retorted coolly.

The two vampires glared at each other, and Willow could actually feel their hatred, poisoning the air.  As much as she understood the basis for their ill feelings, she felt the need to break the tension.

"He's not hurting me, Angel," Willow said as softly as she could, knowing that Angel's vampiric hearing would enable him to understand what the others couldn't.  "We were talking and Buffy came out.  You know I'm not ready to tell them yet...he had to do something..." she explained quietly.

"And I suppose staking himself was asking too much?" Angel sneered, his eyes still glued to the other vampire's.

"Why so bitter, Angel?" Spike chuckled cruelly.  "That soul of yours have a bit of a foul aftertaste, does it?  Shame you didn't choke on it, mate," he added caustically.

Forcing himself to ignore Spike's taunts and concentrate on getting Willow away from the vampire, Angel made sure he had his emotions in check before he spoke again.

"Spike, I want you out of Sunnydale by the time the sun comes up tomorrow."  His voice was firm, unmoving.  He was still completely focused on the vampire, however, too afraid that if he looked at Willow, his emotions would get the better of him, yet again.

At Angel's command, Willow began to fume.  Her eyes narrowed and she straightened herself up in Spike's arms, preparing to give Angel a piece of her mind regardless of who heard, but Spike beat her to it.

"The funny thing is, mate, I don't think that's really for you to decide," he scoffed, drawing the dark vampire's attention to the hand that Willow was still clutching on to.  "Me either, for that matter.  *I'm* needed here...wanted even..."

Angel's gaze reluctantly drifted over the pair, taking in the sight before him.  While it might appear to the others that Spike was holding Willow against her will with an arm around her waist and one across her upper chest, and that her grip on the vampire's hand and arm were an attempt to pry herself loose, Angel could see the truth.  Spike's hold on her was gentle, comforting even, but the grip that Willow had on Spike's hand was almost desperate, needy.  Angel felt as if it were his own heart that she held, vise-like, as he realized that Willow had turned to Spike for the emotional support that he'd been longing to give her since she'd re-entered his life.

Angel's features tightened as he refocused on the vampire.  "You're mistaking familiarity and a need for comfort for actual caring."  The coldness in Angel's voice made Willow shiver as she absorbed the full meaning of his words.

"Spare *us* your psycho-babble, Angel.  Shouldn't you be off shagging the Slayer stupid about now?  Wait...too late for that, isn't it?" he added with a smirk.  When Angel didn't immediately jump to defend Buffy or even gift him with a growl, Spike was disappointed.  Before he could think of a new insult, Willow got his full attention by digging her fingernails into his hand.

"Um...remember those differences we never got to talk about..." she whispered, her eyes focusing nervously on the tops of her boots.

Spike furrowed his brow.  He didn't know what the redhead was going on about, but he knew it wasn't good.  Forcing himself to take a long, lingering--as well as withering--look at Angel, who was now totally focused on Willow with a familiar pained expression darkening his face, Spike then looked down at the redhead in his arms.  Willow was shifting uncomfortably under the other vampire's gaze, trying desperately to look at anything other than Angel.

<Bloody hell...>

"He hasn't hurt you, has he?  Threatened you?" Spike suddenly demanded, afraid that this Angel was bitter enough to actually seek revenge for Willow's part in his sordid past.

"No, he hasn't changed like that," she responded adamantly.  "He's just...different."

"Yeah, he looks taller," Spike smirked as a familiar sinking feeling began to set in.

"He's just trying to protect me...from you..." she added in a near whisper.

"From me?" Spike laughed, his eyes flashing dangerously.  "That's rich, considering how many times I had to save you from him!"

"But who risked her life in the first place for a selfish whim?" Angel finally spoke up angrily.

Willow groaned, in no mood to play their usual game of 'who saved whom the most.'  "Enough already..." Willow hissed impatiently, noting how The Slayer had begun to pace restlessly on the other side of the street.  "Buffy's not going to stay back there forever, you know."

"No, she won't, Willow," Angel agreed, regretting that he'd let Spike get to him so easily.  "So just let go," he implored quietly.

Realizing that she was the only one who could end the stalemate safely, Willow took a deep calming breath, then squeezed Spike's hand one last time, before loosening her grip.

"You sure, Red?" Spike asked, sensing her unspoken signal to end their little play.

Willow nodded.  "Yeah, I'm sure.  Angel won't hurt me, Spike."

Angel flinched at the irony of her words.  Here he was, trying to protect Willow from Spike, but as far as Willow was concerned, Spike was the one being the protector.

Reluctantly, Spike's hold on the redhead loosened as well.  As much as he was enjoying himself, he knew the odds weren't exactly in his favor, no matter what some prophecy said.  Besides, something was obviously going on...something had changed, like she'd said, but he wasn't going to get any answers with Angel and The Slayer hanging around.

But, before he completely let Willow go, Spike whispered in her ear, loud enough for Angel to hear, "Don't let the great poof get you down, love."  Then he added for her ears only, "We'll definitely chat more later, Red."

With a flourish so that everyone could see, Spike kissed Willow on the top of the head.  After adding a wink for his sire, Spike finally released Willow, giving her a gentle shove toward her friends, enabling him to easily disappear around the corner as they rushed to gather around her.
 

~Chapter Eight~

Angel was frozen with indecision.  As Willow's friends rushed to her side, Angel knew he should do the opposite and get as far away from her as he could until he gained some measure of control over his wildly careening emotions.  Yet, even though he knew that's what he should do, Angel couldn't seem to make himself leave her.  Because his gut instinct from the moment that Spike had released Willow was to pull her into his arms and never let her go--never give Spike a chance to come between them again.

That wasn't all.  Because almost as powerful as his need to embrace Willow was his desire to yell at her until he was blue in the face--which for a vampire is a very long time--chiding the redhead for behaving like an irresponsible child with his irresponsible childe.  Yes, shaking some sense into Willow and at the very least knocking some sense into Spike for their selfish display was also a very enticing option.

However, that was hardly the end of his difficult choices, because mixed in with those opposing instincts was a nearly overwhelming sense of relief that Spike *hadn't* hurt Willow.  This in turn led him to believe that maybe she'd been right.  The vampire that he'd just confronted *was* the scarred Spike that had betrayed him in the past.  And as much as he hated that vampire, he kept coming back to the same conclusion.  The peroxide-blonde demon hadn't harmed Willow, even though he'd obviously had every opportunity.  While Angel was relieved beyond measure, he couldn't help being confused and suspicious as well, which did little to abate his anger.

Still unable to make his legs move either to Willow or away from her, Angel finally became aware of the others repeatedly glancing over at him.  He knew they were wondering why he was just standing there with a blank expression, especially considering what had happened to Willow--or at least what they thought had just happened to her.  But what Buffy and the others thought of his actions was the least of his worries.  It was the moment when Willow's eyes, filled with frustration, met his that he found the ability to do what he must.

With a curt, "Look after her, Buffy," which was met with affirmations and more confused looks, Angel stormed off in the opposite direction that Spike had taken.

****

Willow felt like crying as her friends crowded around to make sure she was okay.  The looming tears did not stem from fright or relief, as the others who noticed them suspected, but from disappointment.  She hadn't had a chance to tell Spike anything that she needed to--not only about Oz and Angel, but about all the other odd 'little' changes as well.  Now Willow wished how that she hadn't wasted so much time just talking about silly things with Spike, but yet she'd needed that, too.

Relieved that Angel hadn't rushed to 'comfort' her as well, she cast a quick glance at the silent vampire, who was remaining distant from the group.  For a moment she'd dared to hope that he finally believed her about Spike...at least until her eyes found his.  Easily reading Angel's grim countenance as being far from accepting, Willow sighed and had to look away.

Well, at least *she'd* learned something, she told herself. Spike was deliriously happy, having apparently gotten what he wanted--a Drusilla without strong ties to Angelus and who only had eyes for him.  Finding some strength in Spike's happiness, Willow willed her hot tears of frustration not to fall, and cast another careful glance toward the now-retreating Angel.

She had little time to worry about Angel, though, because she was already undergoing a barrage of questions, many of which she never even had the chance to answer before the next one hit her.

"My God, Willow, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm really ok--"

"He didn't hurt you?"

"No, he didn't.  I'm--"

"No bites?"

Realizing at this point that words weren't enough, Willow let them inspect her neck. Although she doubted that the gang would recognize any of the very faint marks on her neck from her previous vampire encounters as being bite wounds since they looked like faint freckles, she was glad that Angel had already stalked off by this point.  Thinking that the lack of blood and wounds would ease their fears somewhat, she was wrong if she thought that would quiet them.

"Do you know how lucky you are to be breathing right now, Willow?"

"You are *so* lucky!"

"You gotta wonder why he didn't kill her?  Not that I think it's a good idea."

"Maybe she's not his type."

"What, A-positive?"

"Yeah...I think he prefers his women a little more...Gothic.  Oh, and dumber too."

"I can't believe the way he was holding you, Wills."

"Not to mention the licking!"

"He licked her?"

"Ewwwwww...."

"Anyone else thinking rabies shot?"

"Great, now I'm going to have nightmares."

"Did you see Angel's face?"

"Talk about your nightmares...never saw him so angry."

"That was not your average father-son argument...hope Angel sends him to bed without his supper.  Although technically, he did that already, didn't he?"

"Xander!"

"Sorry."

"Did he really lick her?  Cuz, yuck!"

"You sure you're okay?"

"I think she's in shock...she hasn't said anything in a long time..."

*****

Angel headed for the nearest cemetery, hoping that something would dare to pick a fight with him.  While physical violence wasn't his preferred way of handling frustration, he had little choice at the moment.  Unfortunately, the spell that had brought the only woman he'd ever loved back into his life had also taken away his truest friend and confidante, for they were the same woman, separated only by differing histories.

Even as Angel staked a middle-aged, once-banker type as it hungrily lurched its way between the headstones, the Irish vampire instinctively knew that if the old Willow were still there, she would have been able to make him feel better.  She always did.  From nearly the day that they had met, Willow had gone out of her way to make him feel comfortable, like one of the gang.  She'd somehow even managed to ignore the odd looks he must have given her, all the strange and cryptic questions as he tried to figure out the exact connection between the nearly identical Willow and his Rose.  And when things had settled down and he'd come to terms with the idea that Willow was completely oblivious to their sordid connection, he realized that somewhere along the way they had become friends.

Just as Angel had begun to believe that he might have been mistaken, *they* came to town.  It was the arrival of Spike, *his* Spike, and Drusilla that finally confirmed most of Angel's suspicions.  He was then fairly sure that Willow *was* Rose, but she'd yet to travel back through time.  So, he'd simply have to wait.

And wait he did, using those months to help Buffy and the others in their fight against whatever the Hellmouth threw at them and for getting to know Willow as well as he could.  As he waited, he couldn't help noticing how his closest friend was maturing and blossoming until she seemed to be the same girl that he'd fallen in love with all of those years earlier in Galway.

But he wasn't that Irishman anymore.  Too much had happened to the both of them since those relatively simple times filled with horseback rides and long talks.  They'd changed and matured, albeit not in the usual ways.  However, as much as Angel cared about and missed his old friend Willow--the one that was now gone--he hadn't loved her.  At least not in the passionate sense of the word.  But Rose--the Rose that had survived Galway, the soulless Angelus, Spike and a trip back in time only to return to his life a century later as Willow--well, his feelings for that woman were a different matter entirely.

Unfortunately, now that his Rose--Willow--was finally back in his life, she could barely stand the sight of him.  Although her attitude wasn't totally unexpected and certainly not unwarranted, it still cut Angel to the bone.  He wished that he could think of the right thing to say to this woman from his past whom he had wronged--the one key phrase that might grant him a smile, her friendship, and perhaps true forgiveness.  But he couldn't come up with one, because he realized there were no magick words to use in a case like this.  Even if there were, Willow deserved better.  She had every right to hate him, to wish him out of her life forever and to cringe at his very presence.  He even admitted to himself that perhaps Willow had 'earned' the right to ask Buffy to stake him and put them both out of their misery.  Not that he thought for a moment that she'd do that.  It wasn't Willow's way...not this Willow or the one that had come and gone.

The only hope they had to salvage even the shallowest of friendships, let alone anything else, was to talk it all out, which appeared to be the last thing that Willow wanted to do.  For just that reason, Angel was sometimes tempted to 'accidentally' lock them in a room together for a day or two.  He wouldn't touch her, not that he didn't want to, but first he had to get her to talk, tell him what she was really thinking.  They both needed to get everything out in the open, even if they didn't like what the other might have to say.  Nevertheless, as tempting as it was to force the issue in such an extreme way, Angel knew he couldn't do that no matter how depleted his reserve of patience was becoming.

As Angel left that cemetery and headed for the next, he found himself groaning at the thought of the uncomfortable silences that would inevitably develop between them the next time they met.  Again they would fall into the now familiar pattern of tiptoeing around their past, their feelings...everything.  Having a conversation with Willow was becoming more like negotiating a minefield than the long, easy dialogues of old.

And without his usual confidante to talk to, Angel felt...lost.

*****

Spike was whistling as he made his way back to the mansion.  He hadn't had that much fun in a long time.  Nothing like pissing off your sire and the Slayer all in one go to make a bloke happy.  And somehow he knew it was only going to get better.  Every indignity that he'd ever had to endure at Angelus's hands was going to be repaid in spades.

Unfortunately, as anxious as Spike was to begin dishing out the payback to his pseudo-sire, he knew it would have to wait until he had the chance to talk to Willow again.  She said there were changes, and while they didn't appear to be major ones from what he could tell so far, Spike decided to lay low until she had the chance to elaborate.

Not that he minded waiting.  Not one little bit.  While revenge was certainly high on his priority list, it wasn't foremost in his mind at that particular moment.  Drusilla was.  At the mere thought of his Dark Goddess, Spike's whistling gave way to a salacious grin and his pace toward the mansion increased.

Besides, Spike knew there was no way he'd be able to get within 20 meters of Willow again that night, which meant that the details of the changes would have to wait anyway.  Add to that how Willow had assured him that she was okay, and Spike was more than happy to wait.

Red was fine.  Angelus was no more.  Drusilla was his.

Spike was finally home.

*****

Willow never thought they'd leave.

After a long walk home, which included a conversation with a surprisingly understanding Giles via Buffy's cell phone, Willow then had to endure a new round of questioning from her friends.  After assuring them that she'd be fine on her own, that no one had to spend the night and that she wasn't in shock, suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome or doomed to a night of terror-filled dreams, the other members of the Scooby Gang did one final sweep of the house, double checking all the windows and locks, before embracing her one last time and heading for their own homes.

She was finally alone.

After changing into a pair of soft, lightweight sweatpants and an over-sized baseball jersey, once again opting for comfort over style, Willow sat on the steps that led to the second floor of her house, head in her hands, wishing that she could start the whole night over again.  She'd messed up.  Big time.  Several times.  Between the fake spider incident, her nearly losing it in The Bronze over an innocuous comment of Angel's, and then her little charade with Spike, Willow had made what was already a nearly impossible situation a thousand times worse.

Still, all she wanted to do was talk to Spike.  Together they'd figure out what to do; she was sure of it.  Then they'd have a plan and she'd feel better.

But she didn't have Spike to talk to, to plan with, even just to sit in comfortable silence with.  Nor did she have Tekla or even Dunicha to talk to.  No gypsy campfire to warm her wandering soul, no promise of 'I'm doing the right thing and when I get back to my own time, everything will be just the way it's supposed to be' to ease her troubled conscience.

Willow felt...lost.

If only she had her guitar...that would help.  Unfortunately, Willow had never had a guitar in Sunnydale and her parents had gotten rid of their piano.  Even if they did still have one, striking the cold ivory keys had never soothed her in quite the same way as the feeling of guitar strings warming beneath her strumming fingers.  She'd have to buy her own guitar the first chance she had now that she could no longer count on borrowing one of Oz's.

Willow sighed, morosely picking at a loose thread on the stair carpet, when she remembered something.  A vague memory from a family get together when she was quite little of her uncle--her father's brother--playing a guitar and leading the first and last sing-a-long in the Rosenberg household.  She remembered Uncle Izzy asking her father if he still played.  Next thing she knew, her father had come down from the attic, gripping a dusty memento of his childhood to then join in a barely recognizable version of 'Bridge over Troubled Waters'.

With renewed vigor, Willow vaulted up the steps to the second floor, and then to the attic above.

*****

Cemetery after cemetery, the fledglings didn't stand a chance.  Angel had a lot of pent-up frustration, anger, confusion--the works--to get out of his system.  Later, when he could find no more newly made vampires trying to rise to the surface or wandering aimlessly in search of their first meal, he began to seek out the lesser minions.  Perhaps he couldn't rid the world of Spike--yet--but that didn't mean he couldn't reduce the peroxide-blonde vampire's extended family.

*****

Nor did the brittle guitar strings stand a chance as Willow's flying fingers endeavored to strum and pluck away the frustration of the past 48 hours.  One by one, the ancient strings broke until she was left with only the memory of a few hollow chords echoing through the empty house.

*****

Drusilla didn't stand a chance either when she'd returned from her own hunt.  After all, Spike had more than a century of frustration to work through.  Luckily, Dru was strong and more than willing to help him release some of his...tension.

*****

While just holding the cheap guitar had soothed her frazzled nerves considerably, Willow was now reduced to plucking dejectedly, but gently, at the only string that hadn't snapped on her father's boyhood guitar.  She didn't particularly want to return to the dingy attic and rummage through a bunch of musty old boxes in the dim hopes of finding some replacement strings.  Instead, Willow had just decided that she would go shopping tomorrow to buy a guitar of her own when the doorbell rang.

Startled, Willow looked up from where she was sitting cross-legged on her bed, with the guitar on her lap, to check the time.  The large red numbers on her digital clock told her it was 3:07 AM, which meant it wasn't Buffy or Xander.

Willow knew exactly who it was as she left the guitar in her room and headed down the stairs to the front door.  She flipped on the porch light and glanced out the peephole, confirming her suspicions.  Willow took a deep breath before opening the door.

"I've been expecting you," she told the vampire calmly.

"You have?"

"I couldn't sleep after what happened, and you left before we could...talk."

"I had to."

Willow shook her head sadly, one hand still on the open door, the other holding the doorjamb for support.  "I know, Angel."

Angel took a few steps back, wondering why he'd even rung the doorbell in the first place.  Hadn't he already decided he wasn't going to force her to talk if she wasn't ready?  Noting Willow's rigid posture, the way she clung to the door, and the cool detachment in her voice, Angel knew that Willow still didn't want to discuss their past.  While he wasn't particularly surprised by her attitude, it certainly didn't make it any easier.

He flashed her an awkward grin, nervously glancing between his fidgeting fingers and the stoic redhead at the door.  "Er, I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd walk by to make sure you were okay.  And, well, when I saw your lights on..."  Angel stopped before he could make an even bigger idiot out of himself.  He sounded ridiculous, and he knew it.  'I was in the neighborhood'?  Angel wanted to smack himself on the forehead.  That line was nearly as bad as 'Do you come here often?' and 'What's your sign?'  Luckily, Willow was too surprised by his calm demeanor to notice his embarrassment.

"I couldn't sleep," Willow said with the hint of a shrug, relaxing somewhat when it didn't appear as if he had arrived on her doorstep just to scold her.  "Besides, I'm a bit of a night owl now anyway.  Even more than I was before."

"Travelling with a vampire will do that."

"Yep."

Angel dropped his gaze to the ground, her coolness completely killing his already failing ability to make small talk.  After a few more moments of that uncomfortable silence that he'd been expecting, Angel gave up.

"Goodnight, Willow," he said, turning to descend the stairs.  "I just wanted to make sure that you made it home safely."

Frustrated with herself, Willow groaned softly as she watched the vampire turn away.  She was well aware that her behavior the whole day had left much to be desired.  While she wasn't happy about Angel's ultimatums to Spike or even the way he was pushing her to discuss things she'd rather forget about, Willow knew deep down that she needed to move on.  And moving on meant somehow finding a way to make peace with the Irish vampire.

"Spike isn't here," Willow blurted out more loudly than she'd intended.  She winced at her own choice of words.  She had only wanted to stop Angel's retreat, and unfortunately that was the first thing that had popped into her head.  "Um, in case you thought that he was going to stop by for a late-night snack or something," she added lightly and in a tone that she hoped sounded less hostile.

Angel stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned slightly to look back at her over his shoulder, his expression well controlled.  "I know," he replied, before heading back down the walkway.

<Stubborn vampire!> "Well, I guess if you weren't expecting to find Spike, then Giles must have told you to check up on me, right?" she called after him.

Angel didn't answer as he continued to walk away.  As a matter of fact, Giles hadn't asked him to stop by, because The Watcher didn't have to.  They both knew fully well that Angel would be keeping a close eye on Willow, as he always had.  This 'new' relationship between Willow and Spike only made it that much more important.

"What did you tell him?" she called after the vampire.  "Please, Angel.  What did you tell Giles?"

Willow's entreaty ended Angel's departure.  He came to a standstill, bowing his head.  "I told him the truth," he replied in an even tone.  "I told him what I saw."

"And what did you see?"

Angel finally turned back to face her, and even at a distance Willow could see his pale features tightening under the strain of controlling his emotions.

"You *know* what I saw," he stated bluntly.

Willow shook her head slowly.  "No...*I* know what happened.  But what actually happened and what everyone else saw are different things.  Tell me what *you* saw, Angel."

"What I saw was a woman turning to one vampire for protection from another..." he answered without hesitation in a tone very nearly a growl.

"Oh," Willow said almost apologetically, her eyes widening for a moment before looking away from the vampire.  "*That's* what you saw."

"Unfortunately."

Willow took a deep breath, tapping into the well-hidden place inside of her that wasn't completely tainted by guilt over what had happened between Angel and Buffy so she could fully explain herself.  She closed her eyes, just for a moment, before fixing him with a firm gaze.

"You're wrong, you know," she informed the vampire that had stopped in the middle of the street.

Noting the new defiant edge to her voice, Angel cocked his head to the side.  Soul or not, Angel never could resist a challenge.

"You weren't afraid?" he countered skeptically, slowly drifting back toward the house.

"I was afraid, Angel, but not for myself.  I was afraid for Spike..." she said smoothly.

Angel began to laugh, the odd sound catching Willow off guard. It wasn't a joyful laugh, far from it, but it wasn't the cold, calculating chuckle that she associated with the vampire Angelus either.  She frowned, wondering if he was laughing at her.

"I don't think it's funny, Angel," she informed him indignantly.  "You looked as if you would have staked Spike if I hadn't been there!"

The vampire took a few lazy steps closer.  "Here I am..." Angel started as his self-deprecating laugh faded, "trying to protect you from Spike.  Meanwhile, Spike's trying to protect you from me, and yet the best part...the part that makes me finally realize just how twisted this has become, is that *you*, Willow Rosenberg, are trying to protect Spike from me."

"And you find this funny?"

"Don't you?" he queried, the amusement long gone from his voice.  "It's hysterical.  Shakespeare couldn't write it any better, Willow."

Ignoring the memories that the Shakespeare comment brought to mind, Willow straightened herself up to her full height and took one step out the door, though one hand remained firmly clutching the doorframe.

"Well, if you think that's funny, Angel, better hold onto your hat...because this is going to kill you...um, again," she added, as the vampire stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and stared up at her expectantly.  Willow took a deep breath to prepare herself but found it hard to remain composed under his curious gaze.  "I know it probably doesn't seem like it now, but I was also trying to protect *you* from *Spike*," Willow told the dark vampire.  Seeing the beginnings of skeptical smirk marring his pale features, Willow quickly reminded him in her haughtiest voice, "And I have been since that night more than a century ago when Spike decided that I was the only virgin for the job."

The smirk was gone before it could fully form, only to be replaced by a pained expression, complete with furrowed brows and drooping shoulders.

Willow sighed, again, her eyes drifting shut as her head fell back in frustration.  She hadn't meant to make him feel guilty, just force him to see past his hatred of Spike and realize that she wasn't his enemy.

Hearing her slow release of breath, Angel focused on Willow instead of his misplaced guilt. He allowed himself to study the defiant redhead, just for a moment.  Even from a distance Angel was struck by how beautiful she was despite the baggy clothes and the sickly-yellow glow given off by the anti-insect bulb next to the front door.  It didn't matter that he must have seen the other Willow dressed in a similar manner hundreds of times, tonight he was positive that she'd never looked more stunning.  Even when he'd dressed her up in expensive gowns of his own choosing, it couldn't compare to the beauty before him now.

Oblivious to Angel's thoughts, Willow was still searching for the right words.  "Angel, I--"

"Thank you, Willow."

Willow's head jerked forward, her eyes flying open to find Angel regarding her calmly, almost reverently.  <So much for channeling the Master of Brood!>

Oddly disturbed by his rapid change of mood, Willow wanted to blurt something hurtful like: "Don't thank me.  I did it for Buffy and the *real* Angel, not for you!"  Luckily, she controlled her baser desire to lash out, and instead said, "Um, you're welcome, I guess...but I wasn't looking for your gratitude, Angel.  I just..." she trailed off, shaking her head at her inability to put her feelings in to words where Angel was concerned.

Angel watched as she took a deep breath, her soft green eyes fluttering closed for a moment in a gesture that he remembered well.  Countless time when he was soulless, Angelus had witnessed her doing the very same thing--at the card table, in his carriage, and even in his arms.  Angel wished now that he could share whatever vision it was that she saw behind her closed lids.  He wondered what she could possibly picture that would ease her mind and soul enough to calm her breathing and heart rate the way it did.  The ensouled vampire dared not hope that it was his image that she clung to when troubled, soothing her, even though that was precisely what her image, forever ingrained in his memory, had done for him all these decades.  Perhaps he'd never know.

Willow opened her eyes again to find Angel waiting patiently.

"I simply wanted you to know that I'm not ganging up with Spike against you.  You're not alone in this, Angel..."  Willow gave up trying to express her emotions clearly.  Considering that she wasn't even sure what she felt anymore, Willow was pleased when a grateful smile spread across Angel's face.  Apparently she had said something right.

For a change.

Before Willow realized what was happening, a smile of her own crept on to her face.  Taking advantage of the lighter mood, and not wanting the conversation to end now that he'd finally gotten the redhead talking, Angel changed the topic.

"I used to stop by at this time of night before," he informed her casually.  "I'd walk by, making my rounds, and many times your bedroom light would be on."  Willow's grip softened as Angel spoke, and she leaned against the doorjamb, letting his warm voice envelop her.  "When your...when the other Willow's parents were out of town, sometimes I'd even knock on the French doors to your room, and you'd let me in.  We'd talk--"

"But I'm not allowed to have boys in my room," Willow interrupted, her tone more teasing than chastising.

This drew a devilish grin from Angel, which in turn sent Willow's stomach flip-flopping as he replied silkily, "I'm not a boy..."

<No, you certainly aren't,> she thought to herself.

"...and I promise that I behaved myself," he added a little more carefully.

While the words uttered were similar to ones the previous Angel had once spoken, the intent, the tone, the look on this Angel's face couldn't have been more different.  Willow forced down her body's traitorous reactions, berating herself for letting memories of the living Angelus get the better of her.

Unnerved by the sudden shift in her demeanor and afraid that he'd scared her yet again, Angel shifted the subject just a bit.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that I, that the previous Angel, had never been in your room before."

Willow waited just a beat before answering, guiltily enjoying the expectant look on the vampire's face.

"Once."

"I-I was?"

Willow nodded as she finally took a few steps out on to the porch to join Angel, leaving the emotional safety of her home behind.

"You stopped by once because you needed help...with *Buffy*" she added with emphasis, causing Angel's hopeful expression to lessen.  "An old friend of hers was in town, and you were...jealous, suspicious...You know, the usual boyfriendy things.  You wanted me to look into his background on my computer."

"How very...*modern stalker* of me," he smirked, making Willow smile softly in return.

"Actually, you were right though, Angel.  The boy had an agenda and was using Buffy.  And with my help, oh, and Xander's too, you were able to find that out.  Probably saved her life."

"Are you talking about that Ford kid?"

"Um, yeah..."

Angel nodded thoughtfully as he climbed the first step back up toward the porch landing.  "He showed up this time, too.  I take it the ending was the same?" he asked grimly, remembering how hard it had been on Buffy when she'd had to stake the boy.

"Dust?" Willow asked in a quiet voice, and Angel simply nodded in reply.

As the silence began to settle between them again, Angel said the first thing that came to mind, his only thought to keep her talking.

"So, the only time I was ever in your home was to talk to you about Buffy?"

"Yep...oh, except for later when you broke-in to kill my fish," she added nonchalantly.  "You strung them all together and left them in an envelope on my bed."

Angel shoved his hands in his pockets, wondering why he felt a twinge of guilt over something that he'd never actually done.  "So that was true, then."

"'Fraid so..."

They remained in silence for a while as Angel considered the new information.  He hadn't been sure which parts of what Spike and Rose had told him back in England were true.  He couldn't blame Willow for lying to him back then, but it did confuse issues somewhat.  Now, not only did he have to search for the truth regarding this previous version of himself, he also had to let Willow know more about the new life that she was assuming.

Yes, time travel certainly confused things.

"Your parents have actually had me over for dinner a couple of times," Angel told her in a rush, almost hoping Willow wouldn't understand him.  But she did.  Willow's jaw dropped and she blinked at him a few times.

"My parents?  You?  Dinner?" she stammered incredulously.

"Sorry...I mean the other Willow's parents."

"But...my parents don't have my friends over for dinner," Willow huffed, beginning a slow pace along the length of the porch as she continued her rant.  "Not even Oz!  I mean, they can barely remember Buffy's name, and I swear they still think of Xander as he was when he was ten!  But *you* they invite over to dinner...more than once!  And you're...well, you're a vampire and you don't even need to eat...bloody hell..."

Figuring now was not the time to call Willow on her word choice ala Spike, Angel focused on the matter at hand.  "I think Ira Rosenberg just wanted to know why his only Jewish daughter was spending so much time in a church with an older man."  Angel grinned wickedly.  "I think they were afraid it was some kind of bizarre Catholic cult, and I guess dinner was the easiest way to find out my intentions."

Willow finally planted herself on the top step of the porch, with one final softly spoken complaint.  "No one's been over for a real meal at my house since dinner stopped being PB&J and a glass of milk, Angel."

Angel climbed one step closer.  "If it helps, Willow, Sheila didn't cook.  She ordered pizza and we spent the evening discussing--"

"I don't think I want to know what we talked about, Angel," Willow interrupted.  While she was looking forward to seeing her parents again when they returned in less than a week, she was understandably nervous about the meeting as well, and Angel's revelations weren't helping.  "I haven't even met them yet," she reminded him somberly, "so maybe we should just take it one step at a time."

Angel glanced down to note that he was now standing on the second tread of the staircase.  Obviously, he already was taking it one step at a time.  The vampire chuckled softly at the irony before refocusing on the dejected-looking redhead.

"Sure, Willow, but from what you said that first night you came back, I don't think you'll find that they've changed much.  They still pretty much leave you to your own devices, oblivious not only to the dangers of the Hellmouth but to the everyday ones as well.  They trust you to raise yourself properly."  Angel tried to keep his tone light.  He didn't understand Willow's parents or their absentee parenting methods, but this was hardly the time to discuss their shortcomings.

"That sounds like them."  Willow sighed in relief.  She wrapped her arms around her bent legs, drawing them close to her body.  If Angel was right and her parents hadn't changed much, then maybe it wouldn't be too difficult for her to assimilate back into her old family life.  After all, how hard could it be to live as 17-year-old under her parents' roof again after living as an independent adult for more than a century?

Piece of cake.

Not.

Willow hugged her legs even closer, resting her head upon her knees.  In spite of everything that had happened and the trials yet to come, she couldn't help noticing what a truly beautiful night it was.  A gentle breeze surrounded her with the soft scent of roses and there were only a few wispy clouds to block the light of the moon and the twinkling stars.  In the background, the cricket song set the mood.  It was perfect, and yet it just didn't seem right.  In her opinion it was supposed to be a dark night, with thick ominous clouds blackening out the moon, the rumble of thunder in the distance signaling an impending storm and symbolizing the dark times ahead.  After all, that's how it always happened in the movies.  Of course the movies also had a soundtrack...all she had were bugs rubbing their legs together.

Willow sighed, whisper soft, casting a sideways glance at the vampire in front of her.  She was surprised that he had yet to say anything about what had happened earlier with Spike.  She was positive that he wanted to, and she couldn't fault him for that.  So Willow took a deep breath and cut to the chase.

"I didn't do it on purpose, Angel," Willow said abruptly.  She unfolded herself to stand on the top step and look down at the vampire.  "Spike and I really were just trying to talk and then Buffy came out.  I didn't want Buffy to know yet, and well...you know Spike..."

Angel looked away from the redhead to stare unseeingly into the distance.  "More than I care to, actually."

"...I guess he couldn't resist."

"You didn't seem to be resisting either," Angel continued to mutter, with more coldness then he intended.  So much for his poker face.

Willow stopped, not sure she heard him correctly.  "Resist what?"

Angel didn't answer, bringing another guilty sigh from Willow.

"Look, I'm sorry," Willow began earnestly, then waited until he looked her in the eye before continuing.  "It was stupid and childish but neither of us knew what else to do.  I just needed to talk to him.  I didn't want to worry anybody."

"You promised Giles that you were going to be careful."

"And I was!  I stayed far away from him until I knew for sure it was my Spike."

Angel gave a soft grunt.  "I don't think that's what Giles meant."

"But you saw him, Angel.  He wasn't going to hurt me!  He was just having some fun."

"Everything is fun to him, Willow!" he retorted.  "It's all a game, and I don't trust him.  You shouldn't either."

"Well, I do trust him, Angel," Willow groaned, now very sorry she'd brought up the subject of Spike.  Apparently it was the one subject that he *didn't* want to talk about.  "This is getting repetitive, so let's just call it a night," she insisted as she turned for the door.

Angel turn to leave as well, but the moment his foot hit the sidewalk, he realized he'd messed up.  Again.  Willow really had been trying to talk to him about what had happened, and he'd let his jealous nature and hatred of Spike ruin the mood.

One step forward, two steps back.  Again.

With an inward groan, Angel ran a hand through his hair to the back of his neck.  Wasn't this sort of thing supposed to get easier over time?  Fat chance.

"Willow, I'm sorry--"

"What happened to no apologies?" she shot back from the doorway, without turning around.

"I figured new screw-ups didn't count," he answered with a light-hearted shrug.  "Besides, you apologized first.  Or at least you were trying to before I went all caveman on you."

Willow spun around to face the vampire.  "You don't get it, Angel.  Cavemen I can deal with.  I'm used to that, because Spike could certainly have his caveman moments...comes with the fangs, right?  But what I am not used to is people ignoring my opinions and not listening to what I have to say.  Maybe you could get away with that when I was 17, but not anymore.  And while I don't claim to know everything or have all the answers, there is one thing that I am an expert on, and that is my friendship with Spike!"

"Willow--"

"Until you get that through your head, I don't see the point in us discussing this anymore.  Because in order to discuss something, you need to listen, too!"

Willow had just spun on her heels, her hair whipping behind her with a very satisfying snap, when she heard his reply:

"You're wrong."

Willow turned to find him smiling up at her.  He couldn't help himself when she got like that.  It was pure Rose.

Willow's frown deepened...he was smiling at her.  She'd yelled at him, really let him have it, and yet he simply stood there, smiling at her.

<Vampires!>

"What did you say?" she demanded.

"I said that you're wrong, Willow," he replied in all seriousness, at the same time trying very hard to wipe the smile from his face.

"How dare you--"

"You're wrong because I *didn't* get away with that when you were 17, either," Angel cut in before she had a chance to get herself worked up again, no matter how much he enjoyed seeing that side of her.

"Oh," she said quietly, her face softening.  "Well, that's good...I guess..."

"I respected your opinion when you were 17...both times you were 17, if I remember correctly.  Hence the long talks until the wee small hours of the morning...some of which you may even remember..."

Willow's eyes widened for a moment as she recalled some of her lengthy conversations with the living Angelus.  They'd talked about everything and anything back then.  Well, almost anything since she had to avoid talking about her past and his future.  Yet whether on their long walks, horseback rides, or over dinner in the local pub, somehow they'd managed to never run out of conversation.  Perhaps more importantly, he'd always seemed truly interested in what she'd had to say.  Now, if what Angel had told her about his friendship with Willow v2.0 was true, it appeared as if that mutual respect had carried on more than a century into the future as well.

Willow pouted, toeing at the wooden slats that formed the floor of the porch.  "That's not fair, Angel.  How am I supposed to know what you and the previous me actually talked about?  Besides, you're changing the subject."

"I told you before that we were very good friends, Willow.  We talked all the time.  If you don't believe me, ask Giles or Xander."  His casual tone turned more playfully insolent.  "And for the record, I did not change the subject."

"Yes you did!  The subject was Spike, remember?"

"Really?"  Angel cocked his head to the side, a thoughtful look on his face.  "I thought the subject was the fact that, in your opinion, I don't listen, give you the credit you deserve, or value your judgement.  And, not to dismiss your opinion on this subject, but you're wrong.  I respect your opinion very much...always have."

"Oh..." she said quietly, before her eyes narrowed again as she realized how easily he had changed the subject away from Spike, yet again.  Luckily, she was a quick study.  "Well, since you value my opinion so much, I guess that means you won't question my relationship with Spike anymore."

Angel slowly climbed the steps.  By the time he joined her on the porch, his grin had faded and his features were tight.

"If you expect me simply to forget what Spike did to me, how he betrayed me time and time again, I won't, Willow."  He paused, his eyes closing for a brief second before he looked at her again.  "Not even for you."

Seeing the anguish on his face and hearing it in his voice, Willow had to look away.  She chose to study the porch rail with its somewhat flaking white paint as she spoke, moving closer to it to pick at the large white flakes that crumbled beneath her fingers.

"I can't begin to understand how you must feel about what happened between you and Spike.  That's for you two to work out...you're both hurt and angry.  As much as I think I understand sire-childe relationships, I know I can't really even begin to fathom them.  But your relationship with Spike is separate from my relationship with him.  He's...*different* with me." Willow sighed and finally looked back up at Angel.  "Does that make any sense at all?" she asked hopefully.

Angel's hands went in his pockets as his line of vision dropped to the floor for a moment.  He gathered himself, then he refocused on Willow.

"I do understand what you're trying to say, and from what I saw tonight, you *may* be right," was all he could say.

Although it wasn't the exact answer she was looking for, considering how complex the situation was, Willow decided it was a good start.

"Good," she said with a kind smile.  "On that hopeful note, maybe I should head in.  You know, kinda quit while we're ahead."  Willow turned for the door, but Angel's anxious voice made her pause in her retreat.

"I have something for you, Willow."  Angel never was very good at quitting while he was ahead.

His words sent chills down her spine.  While they weren't the same ones Angelus had used all those years ago, the effect was nearly the same.  "I don't want--need--anything..." she replied, stopping herself before she could echo her exact words from a century ago.  She slowly turned back to face the dark-haired vampire, only to find him with his hand outstretched, a small black bag in his palm.

"Oh boy," was all she could manage to mutter as she glanced up from his hand.  Angel was regarding her with a wary yet oddly hopefully expression.

"It's your--"

"My cross..."

"I--"

"Kept it for me all this time..." she again finished Angel's sentence in a far-off voice.

He nodded.  "As a reminder, and with the hopes that someday I could give it back to you."  When Willow still hesitated, Angel added, "Please take it, Willow.  It is yours, after all.  If you want to get rid of it, that's up to you."

Willow stared at the black velvet bag with its gold cord and tassel, her heart beating loudly enough in her own ears that it drowned out the crickets song.  She reached out with a shaky hand to lift the small, soft pouch from Angel's palm.

"Okay, I'll take it...I-I missed it, actually.  I don't quite know how I'll explain it to my parents if they ever see me wearing it, but still...it's...thank you," she finally stammered.

"You're very welcome."

Willow tugged at the drawstrings to open the bag and then slowly emptied its contents into the palm of her hand.  It was her cross, its ornate silver buffed to a perfect shine and without even a hint of tarnish.  It gleamed in the gentle moonlight, bringing a soft smile to Willow's face.

She looked up again at Angel, her eyes glistening, to repeat in a near-whisper, "Thank you, Angel."  She then slid the cross with its thick chain over her head.  For a moment, she simply relished the feeling of its weight against her chest before slipping it under the neckline of her T-shirt to lay directly against her skin and out of plain view.  That's when another tiny glimmer of silver caught her eye.

"Oh, um, since we're playing lost and found, I think that it's only fair that you have this."  Willow easily slipped the silver band from her finger despite the Band-Aids that she'd wrapped around the majority of the ring.  She held it out to him, saying, "Sorry about all the bandages.  It was a little big, and I didn't want to lose it...not before I could give it back to you."

Angel's eyes grew wider as he stared at the band of metal and flesh-colored bandages resting in Willow's petite had, but he didn't reach for it.

"It...the ring...it *is* mine, then?  I'd wondered, but I wasn't sure..."

Willow nodded, still offering it to him.  "The spell needed an anchor...something personal to the individual and the time we were travelling to.  Spike said this ring was all he could find of yours. Apparently, Drusilla had taken it from you at some point, but I don't really know when."

"But..." Angel didn't finish verbalizing that thought.  Instead he lifted his hand, waving its long fingers so she could see the silver band he was wearing.  "I'm already wearing it."

Willow frowned.  She'd noticed it before, but had assumed--hoped even--that it was a replacement.  "Are you sure it's the same ring?"

"One way to be sure.  What does the inscription say?"

"Inscription?" Willow repeated, her brows knitting together slightly at the thought.

"If it's my ring, the one that my grandmum gave me, there will be an inscription on the inside.  Doesn't it have one?" he asked, his voice betraying a tinge of disappointment when the confused look on Willow's face led him to believe that it wasn't his ring that she'd been wearing all this time.

Willow glanced between the rings.  "I-I never had the chance to check," she admitted sheepishly.  "Spike just forced it onto my finger..."

<William never was much for romance...> Angel found himself thinking as Willow relayed the incident.

"...and before I knew it, it was kinda melted there."

"I remember," he said gravely, reliving the one time they had spoken about the ring during a surprise picnic that he had planned for her.  It was the same memorable day that she'd met his mother for the first time, which was later followed by an equally unforgettable horseback ride back to town through dense fog.

"Guess there's only one way to be sure."  Aware that Angel was watching her every move, every expression, Willow painstakingly began to remove the layers of Band-Aids from the ring until she revealed all the silver below.  After a deep breath and still not truly understanding why she was so nervous about such a little thing, Willow scrutinized the inside.

Her heart leapt as she saw the tiny words carved along its interior for the first time.  "It's not Latin...Gaelic?"

Angel nodded, sliding off his own ring to translate the words inside even though he knew them from memory.  "With all my heart and all my soul, I am with you."  Angel paused to gaze at the beautiful woman before him, and he could almost feel his heart beating as he spoke the final word of the translation:

"Always."

Sinking into the warm depths of his dark eyes as he uttered the last word, Willow couldn't breathe.  She was drowning in memories...emotions...and she clutched the tiny circlet of silver tightly in her hand as if it were a life preserver.

Time passed--a second...a minute...an eternity...and suddenly, Willow was breathing again.  Speaking even.

"That's...beautiful," she sighed.  The sound of her voice brought them both fully back to reality.  Willow could feel the heat rushing to her face, and she quickly looked away from Angel, suddenly feeling shy.  "I-I can't believe those words were written there the whole time and I never knew."

Angel too was feeling rather emotionally overwhelmed at that moment, and he found himself studying the floorboards again.  "Well, my grandmum was quite the romantic.  She, ah, spent weeks finding just the right quote to use, apparently."  Angel dared to peek at Willow through lowered lashes.  "I wish you could have met her, Willow.  She would have loved you."

"Me or Rose?" Willow asked, still looking anywhere but at Angel.

"Both," came Angel's frank reply.

Willow held her tongue, but she couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips.  She truly had enjoyed meeting Angelus's family, and he had always talked very fondly of his feisty grandmother.

The smile quickly faded.  "But why are there two?" Willow finally asked, her eyes narrowing sharply as she stared at the ring.  "I mean, there aren't two Willow's, there aren't two Spike's, why two rings?"

"I don't know," Angel replied honestly, wishing he had the answers for her.  "Another mystery of the spell."

Willow glanced from the ring up into Angel's caring eyes, but she had to almost immediately look away again before her body could again react to the swirling emotions she still saw in those dark pools.

"Well, I don't know about you, Angel, but I'm tired of mystery.  For once I wish things would just make sense again."

"They will, Willow.  I guess we both have patience issues," he said with a sad smile, and Willow nodded in agreement.

She took a deep breath, then thrust the ring out to the vampire again.  "You should keep this," Willow said, trying to ignore how naked she already felt with out it.

Angel stepped back, thrusting his hands back into his pockets once again.  "I already have one, Willow.  You keep that one."

"I couldn't..."

"It's yours now, Willow, and I wouldn't dream of taking it from you."  Seeing her hesitation and the way she was avoiding looking at him, Angel easily guessed what Willow was thinking.  God it hurt.  "No strings, Willow.  It doesn't have to mean anything," he suggested, his voice strained.

Willow held the delicate hoop tightly in her fist, some small portion of her wanting to hurl it into the dark night and as far away as possible.  Yet, before she was even aware that she was doing it, Willow was sliding it back on to her finger, back home.  The redhead felt a sudden flood of relief knowing that she'd never have to part with the ring, for it truly had become a part of her.

Finally looking back up at Angel, she found him watching her, his face nearly emotionless this time.  Consigning their most recent 'moment' to the furthest recesses of her mind, Willow sighed in resignation.

"I suppose you want to talk some more, don't you?"

"You know we need to," he answered, his dark eyes following Willow's tight face as she glanced longingly back toward her front door.  "But it's late and you've had a long and difficult day...and if you aren't ready..."

<Damn him for being so reasonable!>  Willow thought irritably.

"Fine.  If you want to talk, then talk," she said grimly, the growing stiffness of her body letting Angel know exactly how little she wanted to discuss their past.  "Explain this to me, Angel.  If you want to talk, then you have to find the means to make me understand why things turned out this way and why I shouldn't be fighting against these changes with everything I am!"

"Okay..." Angel responded, relieved that she was willing to talk about some of the real issues between them, albeit reluctantly.  Nevertheless, it was a start.  He took a seat on the top step of the Rosenberg porch, his arms automatically resting on his knees, fingers joining to form a triangle as he contemplated the best way to begin.  After a brief pause, he looked up at the waiting redhead.  "It might take a while."

Willow smirked.  "Well, while I no longer have all the time in the world, I think I can spare you an hour or so."

"Then tell me how I was before, Willow...in your timeline.  Tell me the truth, even about Angelus."

"Now?" she queried, surprised by the direction he chose for the conversation.

"Might as well get it over with," he said with a loose shrug.  "Then maybe together we can figure out why things are different."

"Okay...mainly, Angel, you were hopelessly in love with Buffy--"

"Willow..." Angel growled playfully at her matter-of-fact manner.  "You sound like a broken record...I mean a severely scratched CD.  Have to change with the times, right?"

Rolling her eyes, Willow gifted him with a small grin before she got back to business.  Chewing on her bottom lip, she thought for a moment and then took a seat next to Angel on the porch, but not too close.  After collecting her thoughts, she finally began.

"Well, we called you 'cryptic guy' for a long time, Angel.  All you ever did was show up and deliver some mysterious omen then disappear without a trace.  It was quite awhile before you told Buffy what you were, and how you'd been punished by the Rom with your soul.  By then, she already had feelings for you, and you for her."

Angel nodded his head, not so much in understanding as to show that he was listening.

"Giles used to say how poetic it all was--a vampire in love with a slayer," Willow continued.

"Buffy and I were happy though?"

"Yes...very," Willow said with an emphatic bobbing of her head.

Angel didn't buy it; it didn't make sense.  "Really?" he pushed.  "Buffy and I were happy--a 200-year-old vampire and a 16-year-old slayer were happy, even though I had some clause that precluded happiness?" he asked, his voice holding more cynicism than he'd intended, but he thought the point was a good one.

Willow's brows drew together in consternation as she allowed herself to slip into a moment of what she knew was completely illogical thinking.  After all, Angel wasn't supposed to argue with her.  He was supposed to leap suddenly to his feet, saying "You're right, Willow.  Buffy and I do belong together.  How could I not see it before?  Thank you for showing me the light!" then skip off to the Summerss home with a song on his lips.  But instead he was questioning her judgement, again, and much to her annoyance.  "Well, you didn't exactly know about the clause until it was too late.  You didn't know you weren't supposed to be happy," she explained logically, her tone tinged with vexation.

"But this cryptic, brooding, lurking Angel that you are describing *before* he lost his soul was happy?"

Willow shifted on the step to face him, not surprised to see a sly smile softening his pale features.  That proved more than anything else had so far that there was more than a little bit of Angelus, both the man and the demon, in the vampire before her.  They both loved a good verbal argument.

Her eyes narrowed until Angel could almost feel them burrowing into him.  He hoped he hadn't pushed her too far, but he wasn't going to hold back on this matter.  It was too important to continue to tiptoe around.

"You're twisting my words," she informed him, green eyes flashing dangerously.

"No, I'm not."

"You know that's not what I meant about Angel and Buffy..."

"No, maybe it wasn't what you meant," he replied calmly, which only irritated Willow more, "But it seems to me you won't see the truth.  From what you've told me, I don't see how I could have been happy...Buffy either."

"Well, you were!  You lost your soul, didn't you?"

"After having sex with Buffy?" he grinned, unable to help himself.

"Yes, so see...you must have loved Buffy!"  Angel opened his mouth to retort, but Willow could see the next argument coming.  "And don't even think of telling me that you would have had sex with Buffy without loving her.  You...well...*he*...wasn't like that then," she said in her 'so there' tone, letting her resolve face fall into place.  She was too emotional for the poker face to be effective, so she could only hope that her more stubborn look would work.

"I'm not saying that the other Angel didn't love Buffy, Willow.  I'm arguing that I don't see how we could have been happy.  Love does not equal happiness."

"Are you saying that sex does?"

"You aren't listening."

"Me?  You're the one who won't listen to what I'm telling you...again!"

"I have listened, Willow."  Angel could see her growing anger, and as much as he loved to see this side of her, he doubted if this was the best time to get her all riled up.  Using a softer tone of voice, he continued, "While I don't claim to really understand, I would imagine that he saw Buffy as the ultimate form of redemption.  She epitomized everything that he wasn't without his soul, and through his love for The Slayer, he was seeking a salvation of sorts."  Angel paused, still struggling to find the right words.  He wasn't trying to disparage the other Angel's love for Buffy.  He was simply trying to find a possible explanation for such a peculiar relationship.

Willow frowned as words from long ago drifted back to her.  "...just some twisted type of penance that his guilt-ridden soul came up with to make sure he was a miserable sod for the rest of eternity."

Angel cocked his head, slightly puzzled by her word choice, yet pleased that she seemed to understand his general point.  "That's a bit simplistic and harsh, but I guess you could put it that way."

"I didn't put it that way.  Spike did.  A long, long time ago when we were talking about...things..."

Angel's pleasure instantly dissolved.  "What *things* were you two talking about?"

Willow thought back to the conversation she'd had with Spike after that first time she'd escaped from Angelus in London.  She remembered the look on Spike's face when she'd thoughtlessly asked him why Angelus couldn't be more like he was.  The dialogue took a few twists and turns, as her discussions with Spike usually did, and eventually Spike announced that Angelus was incapable of love...always was.  When Willow'd retorted that Angel had loved Buffy, Spike had laughed outright, insisting that Angel didn't know what love was either.

Knowing that Angel was watching her carefully, waiting for an answer, Willow did her best to assume her poker face.  "We were just talking about life in Sunnydale...reminiscing mainly," she lied, adding a simple shrug for good measure.

Angel had been studying her as she spoke, meticulously choosing her words.  He noticed the instant Willow's resolve face was replaced with the façade of a woman who'd bluffed her way through more than a few tight spots.

Once again she was his Rose.

"Spike may very well be right," he admitted as casually as he could, considering his emotions were on the rise again.

Willow's green eyes narrowed as she wondered whether he meant that or if he was just trying to get a rise out of her.  "But you did love her...and she loved you...and..." Willow sighed.  It all seemed a moot point now anyway, as any relationship between Buffy and Angel in this timeline would be completely different now.  "I guess you were as happy as a vampire and a slayer could be.  You had troubles.  She had difficulty trusting you for a while after she first discovered your real identity.  But most of all Buffy had trouble adjusting to being The Slayer in the first place," she admitted, remembering back to some of Buffy's more difficult times.  "It was hard for her, not being able to have a normal teen-aged girl's life, but you...you made that easier for her, I think.  You understood the bizarreness that was the life of a slayer, she didn't have to explain things to you, or lie to cover up her odd hours and supernatural strength.  She could just be herself with you."  Willow paused, before finishing with, "And she really needed that in her life."

Angel considered this for a while.  Except for the fact that he'd been honest about who and what he was from the beginning, what Willow had said didn't seem all that much different.  In his experience, Buffy had been a reluctant slayer, vacillating back and forth between hating and denying her destiny to treating it glibly, as if doing battle nightly with the forces of darkness was nothing compared to getting her homework in on time.  Some days it seemed too much for her, while other days she made being the Chosen One look easy.  Angel helped when he could, as did the others, and with their aid, and sometimes in spite of it, Buffy managed to do much more than simply cope.

"I'm glad that he was able to do that for her," Angel said in all honesty.  "And yet, somehow, our Buffy managed just fine with only my friendship and not my heart."  Before Willow could question him further on that matter, Angel continued.  "Now tell me about when I lost my soul..."  He hesitated, still not sure which parts of the stories that Rose and Spike had woven for his benefit were true. "...and killed your fish."

"It was horrible.  You were *so* cruel to Buffy."  Willow carefully detailed all she remembered about those dark times and what Angelus had put Buffy through, including the torture of Giles and the death of Jenny.  Angel listened to it all without interrupting, but his face was pinched and Willow could see his hands clench into tight fists.  Wanting to get it all out in the open, Willow even told him about how they found out that the previous Angel had lost his soul, repeating the story of when the modern version of Angelus had found her in the school, threatening to kill her before they were interrupted.

"So that was all true as well," Angel said in a tight voice, casting a quick glimpse over at the redhead before concentrating on his fingers again.  "What you told me that night in London, about how I'd--he'd--held you by the throat, was true?"

"Yes...I just skirted around a few of the facts so you wouldn't find out that, hopefully one day, you'd get your soul shoved back down your throat."

Angel chuckled, still amazed at how well she'd managed the difficult situations he'd placed her in when he was soulless.  "You handled that all quite well.  I never suspected, until I was choking on my soul, of course," he commented with only a hint of bitterness to his voice as he echoed Spike's words from earlier that night.

Willow let them both digest everything for a moment before going on to tell a little more of what she knew about the final battle between Angelus and Buffy, including how it was Spike's decision to help Buffy that eventually led to Drusilla's suicide and Spike's casting the fateful spell.  She looked at Angel, wondering how the details of yet another betrayal by Spike would affect him.

Angel stared at the ground a few feet in front of him.  Spike had helped Buffy try to save the world.  It was hard to believe, considering what a penchant Spike had for killing slayers.  Nevertheless, because of Spike, the world hadn't been sucked into hell.  Angel didn't really know how to feel about that.  Obviously he was relieved, but he was also puzzled by the other Angelus's behavior.  As evil as he himself had been while soulless, Angel couldn't imagine wanting to have all the world's living inhabitants sucked into hell.  As fun as it sounded to a lot of demonic types, any idiot could see that it was incredibly lacking in foresight...especially for vampires.  No living beings meant no food.  Not a difficult concept.

There was only one explanation, as far as Angel could figure.  Angelus had been nuts--driven crazy from the unwelcome addition of his soul, no doubt.  Angel looked deep within himself, searching for any signs that he, too, was capable of such madness if he were to somehow lose his soul.  But before he could figure out exactly what it was he was looking for, Willow's solemn voice broke into his thoughts.

"We never knew exactly what happened," she said solemnly, "but I was always sure that the spell to return your soul to you had worked.  But if that's true, then it's possible that Buffy had to send you to hell to close Acathla, even after you had your soul again.  We never saw either you or Buffy again, although it was only a couple of months later that Spike decided to change history.  So who knows what may have really happened..."

They sat in silence for a while, Willow giving Angel some time to consider what may have happened to him in her timeline and the implications of being sent to hell with an intact soul.  She was surprised when his next question changed the focus of the conversation.

"What about before I came to Sunnydale?" he asked, fixing her with a curious look.

Willow frowned, not sure what he was getting at.  "Um, first of all, don't forget that you weren't supposed to get your soul back until 1898, but when you found me...well...that kinda sped things up a couple of decades."  Angel nodded his understanding, so Willow went on.  "I'm not sure, but from the amount of guilt you were obviously carrying around and what little you told Buffy that she passed on to me, we thought that you'd been a recluse.  You always seemed very uncomfortable around us, especially in the beginning, so I don't think it was until you met Buffy that you really decided to rejoin the human race, so to speak.  I'm pretty sure that the phrase 'rats as meals' was mentioned once or twice."  What she didn't add was that not only had Buffy mentioned that little tidbit of information, but so had Spike.

Angel stared at his hands, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as everything started to fall into place.

"I think I understand now," he told her, barely able to contain his excitement.  Although he doubted she was going to like what he had to say, at least it was an explanation for some of the changes.

Willow looked at him, green eyes wide with anticipation.  "You do?"

He turned to her, wishing he could take her hand in his because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do, but he doubted that she'd agree.

"Do you remember what you said to me in the clearing after I was cursed?" he began.

"Sure.  It was just yesterday to me," she replied, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"What did you say, Willow?"

"Um...something like: remember that we need you, Buffy needs you.  You will find some balance..." she rattled off the top of her head.

"Angelus...remember this," the ensouled vampire said somberly, looking up at the starlit sky as he repeated her words.  "You are very much needed.  We need you...Buffy needs you.  And for every wrong you have done, you can do an act of amends.  It won't take the pain of the evil you have committed away, but you may find some balance.  Remember this."

Willow was speechless.  After almost a century and a half, he remembered what she'd said word-for-word.  She couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

The vampire smiled softly at her unspoken surprise.  Again, Angel found it difficult to resist reaching out to her at such an important revelation.  He wanted to hold her hand, look her deeply in the eyes, and somehow make her understand the importance of those words.

"Those first few years," he began, settling for only holding her confused green gaze with his own, "every night when I woke up in an alley somewhere or in some damp hole in the ground or the sewer, I repeated those words to myself.  'Angelus...we need you.  For every wrong you have done, you can do an act of amends...you may find some balance.'"  He paused, giving Willow a chance to process what he'd said before going on.  "And every time I woke up screaming from a nightmare that was in fact just memories of my own horrible deeds, I heard your words."  He stopped again, this time to gather his own thoughts.  "Time and time again, when I remembered what I'd done to you, what I'd promised to put you through, I saw you and heard your words, Willow."

As his words began to sink in, Willow was unable to look away.  She just stared at him, not caring if her mouth was open or if she looked foolish.  She simply couldn't believe what he seemed to be telling her.

"Sometimes those words were the only thing that kept me from walking into the sun.  Not that I was all that eager to be a useful member of society again, but after a few years..."

The vampire rose gracefully to his feet to stand at the bottom of the steps, facing her.

"I won't bore you with some clichéd story about how the Scourge of Europe changes his evils ways to become the protector of all that is pure and good in this world," he chuckled nervously.  "But, basically, that's what happened."

Willow's eyes widened even further as the slight shock gave way to a flood of different emotions.  She rose shakily to her feet, having to grip the handrail to steady herself.

"You mean that all these years, you've been...I mean, instead of hiding from the world...you've been...you've been helping people?"

He looked up at her, watching the tears spill from her glistening eyes again.  "Yes, Willow.  Because of what you said to me, I've been trying to atone for my crimes for nearly a century and a half.  I knew then, and still know now, that I can never really hope to make up for everything I've done, but I had to try."  He paused.  "Sometimes my deeds were big, sometimes small.  I've done everything from rescuing a cat stuck in a tree, to saving a baby from a burning building.  And just in case you wondered, saving the baby was a helluva lot easier than the damned cat.  Should have left the ungrateful beast up there for a few days..." he joked, but seeing no sign of a smile from Willow, he became serious again.  "I fought evil when I could, killing a few vamps and demons here and there, but mostly just helping when no one else could.  Helping the hopeless, I guess you could say."

Willow was too overwhelmed with emotion to do anything but let the tears slip quietly down her cheeks.  Angel gingerly climbed the stairs to join her on the porch landing, never taking his eyes from hers.  Then, even more slowly, he reached out to gently wipe away one of her tears, his hopes rising when she didn't cringe from his touch.

"It sounds to me like your Angel, the old one, had just begun to atone for his misdeeds when he came to help Buffy," he told her softly.  "But me, well, I've already had more than a century's worth of experience at it."

"Oh God..." was all Willow could utter as it became glaringly obvious that it truly was all her fault that Angel was different, that everything was different.

He looked her in the eyes, wanting her to understand him.  "All because of you, Willow."

"No...no...not because of me, Angel," Willow cried adamantly, shaking her head.  The redhead was even resisting the childish urge to stick her fingers in her ears as she took a step back.  "You did it all on your own.  I didn't have anything to do with it!"

"Didn't you?" he retorted darkly.  "It all makes sense now, Willow...this Angel you're describing that I can barely relate to.  You said it yourself, Willow.  Rats for meals...living in a gutter.  I did that for a couple of years myself, too much of a coward to end my own miserable existence and hating myself for being too...*good* to go ahead and continue killing in spite of the soul.  After all, most of the greatest killers this world has ever known had souls...many of them even killing in the name of the church...but I couldn't...I wouldn't."

"No...Angel, please...please don't tell me that everything is different just because of a few little words I said without thinking.  I mean, I say things all the time without thinking.  Peoples' lives, the fate of the world even, shouldn't change just because I can't keep my mouth shut!"

"They were far from just a few little words, Willow.  At least to me," he said in quiet tone, hating the look of horror on her face.

Willow closed her eyes and turned away from the vampire, her arms tightly wrapped about herself in support.  She couldn't think straight.

"You act as if this is a bad thing, Willow," Angel said a little more gruffly, tiring of her guilt-ridden melodramatics.  "As if it would have been better if I'd lived on rats, doing nothing to help anyone for over a century!"

Willow turned back to face him, wiping the remainder of her tears away.  "No, of course not, Angel," she sniffed.  "What you did was great...amazing even, but I, well, I just..."

"You just wish that I had still managed to fall hopelessly in love with Buffy, right?  And that you and Oz were together?"

Detecting the disgust in his tone, Willow pulled herself together.  "Is it so wrong of me to want all my friends to be happy...for things to be like they were before?"

"Of course not," he replied with an understanding shake of his head.  "But it would be wrong for you to dwell on the past when there is nothing you can do to change it.  And it would be an even worse sin for you not to open your eyes and see some of the good things around you, the changes for the better!"

Willow's eyes narrowed stubbornly before the truth of his words sank in, softening her face.  "I know you're right, Angel, but..."  Willow sighed despondently.  "Oh, Angel...Why couldn't you just hate me for giving you your soul?  It would have been so much easier..."

This time Angel was shocked.  "Hate you?"

"I gave you a soul, Angel!  Although I wasn't the one who performed the spell, this time around, I would have if I had to, Angel.  I made sure the Rom knew the spell, I'm the one that told them about what would happen if you weren't given your soul.  Basically, I was the one who forced you to experience the guilt and pain of everything you'd done."

"I know, Willow," Angel replied softly, having to force himself not to close the physical distance between them.  The idea that she felt guilt for his soul made him want to hold her even more.  But he couldn't, so he took a step back, once again running his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration.  "And at first, part of me wanted to hate you.  I wanted to *want* to make you suffer for what you put me through those first few years.  I even wanted to blame you for my becoming a vampire in the first place, but I couldn't.  It wasn't you, and I knew that.  It was me, always me...always my fault.  I was arrogant and weak and..."

Angel stopped himself there.  He had always been a weak and selfish human.  Yet those last few weeks, the time that he'd been with Rose, he had begun to change.  For the first time he'd learned to care about somebody more than himself.  He *had* begun to think about the future, and the kind of person that he'd wanted to be for Rose.

But his personal growth had all been wasted.  All because of that one fateful night when it had been too hard to let Rose go, when he'd had to put up with the taunts of her 'husband' and had responded by getting drunk.  Then Darla had found him, and...

He'd been a weak fool and perhaps even deserved his dark fate.

Sensing his distress, Willow quietly moved to Angel, surprising them both by reaching for his hand.  She took his hand in hers, and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"It's okay, Angel."

A sad smile twisted Angel's lips and he pulled his cool hand out of her warm grasp.  At the moment he didn't feel worthy of her comfort no matter how many decades he'd been trying to repay her faith in him.  "Instead of hating you, I hated the Rom, I hated Spike, but mostly I despise myself because I knew the truth."

"Truth?"

"All of them...the Rom, Spike, even you... They saved you, Willow.  They saved Rose from me...from an eternity of..." he trailed off, running a hand through his short-cropped hair in frustration.  "They not only saved my soul, Willow.  They saved *yours*.  Make no mistake about it, I had every intention of...making you mine in every vampiric sense of the word...one way or another.  I wanted you with me for an eternity, whether to suffer or as my--"

"I know..." Willow interrupted gently, wanting to make his confessions easier on the vampire, but Angel only flashed her another guilty look.

"And that's the most amazing part, Willow!" he exclaimed, his own eyes now shining with unshed tears.  "Don't you see?  You *did* know what I'd planned for you, and yet you still said those words to me.  You *still* gave me a reason not to end my days upon this earth."

"I--I don't know what to say, Angel.  When I said those things to you...I just wanted to take your pain away.  I'd never seen anybody, not even the previous Angel, look so...lost.  I wasn't trying to, er, guide your path.  I guess I just wanted to give you hope."

"And you did, Willow."  Angel's voice quivered with emotion.  "You gave me much more than I deserved, and I've spent decades trying to live up to your faith in me."

The sheer emotion in the vampire's deep voice took away Willow's ability to speak.  Her gaze drifted away from his tender expression to the sky above.  It was easier to focus on the distant points of light than on the vampire beside her or her own shifting emotions.

"It's late, Willow," Angel said softly after a minute or two of silence.  "I think we've done enough talking for one night, don't you?"

Still staring up at the early morning sky, Willow smiled despite her chaotic feelings.  "So, I finally managed to talk you out, did I?"

Angel laughed.  "Well, if you want to talk more, we'd have to move inside because the sun will be up soon.  And now that you mentioned it, I can think of a few interesting topics we have yet to cover," he teased the redhead lightly.

Knowing she deserved that, Willow finally looked at him again through weary eyes.  "Angel, I need--

"Time...I know," he interrupted gently, drawing a grateful nod from the redhead.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but yes...I need time to digest all of this.  While I'm glad we talked, I feel like my head really is full of cotton now.  I'm afraid you broke my brain," she added with a fake pout, her hands rising to massage her aching temples.

"I think it would take a hell of a lot more than a few time paradoxes to do that, Willow," he chuckled amiably before descending her porch steps.

Willow moved gingerly to the door, and then turned back to look at the departing vampire over her shoulder.  "Goodnight, Angel.  And thanks...for telling me everything, whether I wanted to hear it or not."

"Thank *you*, Willow...for everything," he replied sincerely.

Willow smiled one more time at the handsome vampire before stepping inside to close and lock the door behind her.  It took some strength not to glance back out to see if Angel was still there, but somehow she managed not to look.  Slowly, Willow ascended the steps to her room, once again in a daze.  Even though she'd been looking forward to sleeping in her bed for decades, Willow doubted that she'd get much sleep, no matter what the time.  She was too busy trying to come to terms with everything that Angel had told her...yet again.
 

~Chapter Nine~

"You want me to train?  With Angel?  Today?"

Staring at Buffy in disbelief as they sat in Angel's library, Willow tried her best not to sound completely flabbergasted at the whole idea.  Unfortunately, as Buffy sternly nodded her head in answer to her interrogation, Willow was finding it difficult to keep her mouth from dropping open at the concept of having to 'work out' with Angel in any capacity.

Wasn't it bad enough that Buffy had woken her up at 8 am that morning to make sure that she'd survived the night after her encounter with Spike?  Considering Willow had probably only been asleep for an hour at the most, the redhead was actually surprised at how well she'd handled the news when Buffy offhandedly reminded her that they were expected at Angel's early that afternoon.  After blindly placing the phone back in its cradle, Willow's first reaction as she nestled back under the soft cotton covers had been to wonder if she'd ever have any time to herself.  Almost as soon as the thought had materialized, Willow had berated herself, albeit sleepily.  After all, she'd been alone for decades and had hated it.  Even when she hadn't been physically alone, having either The Rom or Spike for companions, she'd truly missed her old friends.  Even with all awkward moments and painful revelations, she was happy to be back in Sunnydale and surrounded by the gang.

But training with Angel?

As she continued to stare at Buffy incredulously, Willow instinctively realized that she wasn't handling this latest bit of news very well at all.  Regrettably, her mind seemed stuck on the idea that training would involve fighting and touching and tight clothing on sweaty bodies...

<oh God>

Willow glanced down at her clothes...luckily, she'd happened to put on sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt that morning.  She cast a covert look Angel's way as well and was greatly relieved to find that he, too, wore loose fitting clothing.  Although she doubted that his black sweatpants and T-shirt were the latest in trend in all the aerobics studios, they were still suitable for a little one-on-one training.

Okay, so maybe there wouldn't be tight clothing involved, but the rest of her inner argument--the fighting, touching, and possible sweating--was a valid one.  Nope.  Willow didn't care how 'friendly' the other version of herself was with Angel, training was out of the question.

Not going to happen.

Meanwhile, as Willow argued within herself, Angel continued to keep to the periphery of the girls' conversation.  Angel had barely had a chance to bid the four young people a good morning when they'd wandered in--receiving a genuine, if not a bit embarrassed smile from Willow in return--before Buffy had broken the news about training.  The vampire had actually forgotten that today was Willow's turn to train or else he would have warned Willow ahead of time, but in the excitement created by recent events, the workout schedule was the furthest thing from his mind.

As the vampire watched the two girls, he found himself wondering how this slip of a girl before him, whose horror at the possibility of having to work out with him was written all over her pretty face with giant neon lights, could be the same one who had very nearly bested him at the poker table.  To keep from outright grinning, Angel kept his focus on Buffy instead of Willow.  He figured that after their small but positive steps last night, laughing at Willow's look of undiluted shock might undo all of their hard work.

Just as the determined redhead was considering faking a fainting spell--anything to avoid physical contact with the vampire--Xander strolled in with a Coke in hand.  He stood next to Angel, who was practically chewing on the inside of his cheek at this point in his efforts not to smile.

"Let me guess," Xander quipped knowingly as he snapped open his can of liquid brunch.  "Willow's trying to get out of training *again*."

Again?  Willow frowned, although she wasn't sure why.  "Well, no, but--"

"But nothing, young lady," Buffy interrupted with a definite mother-like quality to her voice.  The Slayer was sitting on the same table that Willow was seated at, freely swinging her legs.  "Not only is today your turn, but considering Spike has taken an interest in you--"

"An unhealthy interest," Xander hastily pointed out before having another sip of his drink.

Buffy nodded in agreement.  "But also--"

"A *very* unhealthy interest," Xander interrupted once again.  This time a look of extreme distaste taking over his previously calm features.

Buffy sighed at the interruptions but plowed ahead.  "Yes, and--"

"A *disgustingly* unhealthy interest," Xander spat out, his fist tightening on the can, denting it.

"Xander!" Buffy and Willow chimed in annoyed unison, although the roots of their exasperation were quite different.

Buffy cleared her throat, throwing Xander a 'Don't interrupt me again unless you want to be used as a punching bag the next time I train' look.  "What I was going to say is that it appears as if Spike is actually going to act on his...er, disgustingly unhealthy interest," Buffy said, glancing at Xander momentarily for approval before turning back to Willow.  "It was bad enough when he would just watch you with that smug 'I know something you don't know' look on his face, Willow, but it looks like he's taken it up a notch."

Xander nodded in agreement.  "Yeah, for some reason, he seems to have a special interest in you, Willow.  After doing nothing about it for more than a year, maybe he's finally ready to make his move...his *disgustingly* *unhealthy* move."

Biting her lip, Willow dared a quick peek at Angel.  While she was thankful that he'd stayed out of the conversation up to now, she was afraid that with the latest turn in the subject, Angel would be furious or brooding.  Willow was pleasantly surprised to find the dark-haired vampire appearing quite calm.

Boosted by Angel's self-control, Willow smiled sheepishly at her friends.  "Don't you think you two are blowing things a little out of proportion?  Maybe he just wanted to talk?"

"Riiiight...and vampires are so known for their social skills," Xander scoffed, then added with a nod to the vampire, "Present company excluded, Angel."

Angel bowed his head slightly in return--his typical response to the oft-uttered phrase.

Now Angel's self-restraint was truly being challenged as the focus of the conversation shifted more toward the matter of Willow's safety.  While it was true that he had been working with the Scooby Gang with regards to self-defense, even the 'non-chosen ones,' he had always trained Willow especially hard.  Perhaps driven by guilt or instead by a simple desire to see that the innocent girl was never again at the mercy of either vampire or man--most likely a combination of both--very early on in his association with the young people he'd insisted that she learn at least the basics of self-defense.

"Willow...this is *Spike* we're talking about, not Angel," Xander patiently reminded her, and Buffy nodded in agreement.  "He doesn't want to talk, he wants to eat, and it looks like redhead is the soup du jour at the moment."

Willow rolled her eyes, holding her breath.  For split second, she was almost tempted to tell them everything.  But she didn't.  Because if their behavior now was irritating her, no matter how much she understood it, she knew that the million questions that would certainly follow would sorely test her patience level.

<Pick your battles, Willow.>

"You know, Xander, I don't think I like being compared to soup," she pouted playfully in an effort to change the subject and bringing a smile to Xander's face.  "I prefer to be compared to chocolate.  It's much more..."

"Messy?"

"I was thinking exotic."

"Okay then...Spike has a sweet tooth and you look like a giant M&M to him!"

"Hey!  I'm Godiva, thank you very much!"

"Soup, chocolate, brussel sprouts, whatever...name your food group," Buffy sighed, interrupting their fun.  She hopped to her feet and began an easy pace between the tables.  "The point is, you need to be prepared.  We can't always be there to protect you, Willow."

"I'm well aware of that, Buffy," Willow replied, her grin fading somewhat.  Willow wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused.  While she couldn't help feeling a little insulted from the implication that she was unable to take care of herself, it was also nice to have so many people worrying about her wellbeing again.  Besides, they had no way of knowing exactly how capable of watching out for herself she actually was now since she still wasn't ready to tell them the truth.

Still all business, Buffy came to a stop and turned back to Angel.  "I think you may want to increase Willow's training, if that's possible, Angel.  You could take it easier on her for a few days until she's back to normal, but it is even more important now that she is able to defend herself from Spike.  I don't want to find her in Spike's arms again."

Angel finally glanced over at Willow, his lips twitching nearly imperceptibly from the strain of controlling his emotions, although his eyes spoke volumes when they met Willow's.  "Neither do I, Buffy.  Neither do I."

"Yeah.  Let's just hope that Willow's desire to throw herself at vampires was just a phase," Xander commented lightly, finally taking a seat at the table next to Willow.

Willow returned Angel's gaze, her face echoing the same cocky, self-assured manner that the vampire had just used on her.  "I can assure you that it was."

Two hundred years of practiced charm that had allowed him to move in the most elite circles in Europe, and with seven little words and an insolent stare, Willow reduced him to nothing more than dirt beneath her nails. If he could have figured out a way to kiss her, beg for her forgiveness, and make her eat her words all at the same time, he surely would have done so. Instead he had to simply return her calm yet challenging gaze with one of his own...and breathe. For some reason, he really wanted--no, *needed*--to breathe.

The stare down, which had gone unnoticed by the other occupants of the room, was broken as Cordelia finally sauntered back in from the kitchen, clutching a glass of orange juice.  "Good thing for you Buffy saw you leave The Bronze last night, Willow."

"Huh?  Oh yeah, lucky me," Willow said under her breath.

Buffy moved to stand next to Willow's chair.  "Cordy's right," Buffy said in a far-off voice.  "If I hadn't come out when I had...I don't even want to think of what Spike could have done to you!"

"And back to that whole rabies shot idea I had last night..." Xander leaned closer to Willow then gingerly peeked under her long hair, as if to examine her neck.  Willow easily shoved his hands away.  "Just checking for gangrene," he explained.  "I mean, God only knows where Spike's tongue has been lately."

"Drusilla's mouth mainly," Willow muttered, a ghost of a smile forming that only Angel caught.

Desiring only to thwart another round of questioning about last night's happenings--not that Willow could think of a single question or comment that hadn't already been brought up on the matter--Willow finally jumped to her feet.  "Well, we better get to training, Angel.  Best learn to defend myself from all the evils of this time, right?"  Without actually looking at the vampire, Willow walked past him and down the hall.

"That's the spirit, Willow!"  Xander called after her.  "You'll be flipping Spike over your shoulder in no time!"

***

Willow stood in the middle of the training mat that entirely covered the floor of the main room, her back to the stairs that led up from the basement.  She did *not* want to do this.  After all, she told herself, she didn't train with martial arts masters and learn how to defend herself just so she could wrestle with Angel in a dark and musty basement of some old church.

Sighing, Willow had her first good look around the basement.  Not that musty, really, she had to admit.  The dehumidifier that was softly humming away in the open area under the stairs saw to that.  It wasn't very dark, either, thanks to the even rows of fluorescent lights lining the ceiling.  She also perused the various pieces of exercise apparatus in the large room--everything from treadmills and step machines to weights and jump ropes skirted the thick mat, leaving a wide open space in the middle.  Compared to the make-shift training space that Giles had created in the library during the original timeline, this was a first-class gymnasium.  The only thing missing was the steam room.  And any moment, she fully expected her 'personal trainer' to demand that she drop and give him twenty...if she was lucky, that's all her training would entail.

Shaking her head to clear away the odd thoughts, she took a deep breath.  "You can do this," she told herself quietly.  "He and the other Willow were friends and it sounds like they trained all the time.  Just friends...just some friendly training...maybe I won't even have to touch him...maybe I can just hit the punching bag a few times, do a couple of jumping jacks and then make a run for it..."

Willow sighed again, knowing that it wouldn't be that simple.  It never was.

"Do we really have to do this, Angel?" she asked, surprising the vampire who had just silently slipped down the steps with nary a squeaking tread to give him away.

Angel stopped at the bottom of the stairs.  "I train with everyone, Willow.  It just happens to be your turn.  After all, Sunnydale is a dangerous town..."

Willow continued to focus on anything and everything, so long as she didn't have to turn and look at the vampire behind her.  "But I managed just fine in the old Sunnydale timeline without any formal training at all.  Closest thing I had was trying to keep up with Buffy at the mall."  Willow decided that it wasn't worth mentioning the very basic self-defense moves that Giles had taught them after Buffy's disappearance.  While the Watcher had meant well, his lessons were brief and basic.  After all, they'd had other things on their mind that summer.

"So you tried to help The Slayer without any defensive or offensive training of your own?  You couldn't have been much help then."

"For your information, we were *a lot* of help...most of the time..." she added with a little less enthusiasm.  Memories came to mind of a few instances when they probably were more hindrance than help, but up until Buffy's disappearance 'The Slayerettes' had always been more about research support than actual slayage.  Nevertheless, she could also remember plenty of times that they had actually physically helped Buffy in her duties.  With those examples in mind, Willow was confident that the scales were tipped in their favor.

She shrugged.  "We did fine, Angel."

Angel took a few steps further into the room, his eyes glancing about the training area that he was quite proud of.  He wondered what she thought of it, but in her present mood, doubted that he'd get the truth out of her anyway.

"You really think training is a waste of time for you or the others?" he asked in a subdued tone.

Willow toed at the ground, feeling a bit bad for belittling his desire to help them.  "Well, I guess...maybe..."

"Or do you just have to argue about every little thing I say and do, Willow?  Fight me every step of the way?"

It was the obvious hurt and even some anger in his voice this time that finally made Willow turn to face the vampire...

...only to have a towel thrown at her, which she caught just before it hit her in the face.  Now Angel was smiling, obviously pleased with himself for getting her to turn around.  Narrowing her eyes in irritation at how easily he'd gotten under her skin, she glanced at the snow white towel in her hand.

Towels meant sweat.  Wonderful.

"Look," Willow said, tossing the towel back at him.  "We both know I'll never be Buffy--"

Angel's voice was soft yet stern, like a kindergarten teacher with a particularly skittish child.  "I don't want you to be Buffy."

Willow's head fell back in exasperation at the circular pattern their conversations always seemed to follow.  "That's not what I meant."

"Just what did you mean then?" he asked patiently.

Taking a deep breath, Willow fixed him with hard look.  "As you very well know," Willow began haughtily, taking a few steps closer to the vampire, "I was talking about fighting.  I'll never be as good as The Slayer, and why, exactly, are you being so argumentative?"

Angel was hard pressed not to grin.  "I could ask you the same thing, Willow," he smoothly replied.

"I'm not arguing...I just..."  Unable to put her chaotic emotions into words, Willow bowed her head in resignation.  She only wished her long hair wasn't being held away from her face in a ponytail, as this felt like a perfect time to hide behind the long tresses.

"Hate to back down?"

Willow reluctantly nodded, her eyes still glued to her feet.  "Old habits die hard, right?  Can't teach an old dog new tricks, etc., etc., etc...."

"Hate to reveal your hand before you have to?" he offered as delicately as possible.

That remark got Willow's attention as her green eyes rose sharply to search out his.  "Oh goody...more poker references," she snapped at him, her tumultuous emotions getting the better of her yet again.  "Like I haven't had enough of that in my lifetime."

Angel took a cautious step closer.  Once again he was afraid that he might push her too far, and yet it was something that he felt had to be said.  "Ready for one more?" he asked, careful to keep his tone friendly.  "It's kind of abstract, but I think you'll get the gist of it."

Scowling, Willow took a long stride back, not out of fear of the vampire but out of fear of his words.  Even without his soul, Angelus had always been able to cut to the heart of her thoughts.

Taking her silence as permission, Angel said what was on his mind as delicately as possible.  "You may be capable of holding your own at the poker table, Willow, of defending your stakes--the monetary kind--but what about protecting yourself from a physical attack?  You took the time to master poker.  Don't you owe yourself some measure of that as well as far as your own safety is concerned?"

Willow's eyes narrowed angrily.  She was really beginning to loath analogies, especially those centering around poker.  "First of all, that was a horrible analogy...you were *really* stretching.  Secondly, you know *nothing* about my ability to defend myself or anything else about me, Angel."

Angel shrugged off her anger.  "I know that without Spike's spell to protect you as it once did, your priorities have to change, Willow.  You are no longer immortal, Willow.  Your life could hang in the balance."

"Only my life?" Willow jeered.  "Actually, that's a *huge* relief, Angel.  Only having to worry about myself and my own future sounds like heaven to me."

Angel sighed, running his fingers through his hair.  This wasn't getting them anywhere.  "Yeah, I guess it would, wouldn't it?" he acquiesced.  "Obviously you aren't ready for this yet, Willow.  Working out can wait until you feel like you can handle it."

Fully aware of what the vampire was trying to do, Willow groaned, although to Angel it sounded very much like a growl.  Thinking that this might be a good time to be honest with him, she laid all her cards on the table.  "I'm not saying I can't do it, Angel."  Her tone was somewhat less hostile.  "I'm saying that I don't think it's a good idea.  You and I...you know, hitting and attacking each other...I don't think I'm ready for that kind of therapy, do you?"

"Maybe not," Angel agreed, crossing his arms over his chest.  "So instead we'll start out with a hundred sit-ups."  He paused to gift Willow with what she felt was a truly evil grin.  "I won't even hold your feet, if that will make it easier on you."

Realizing how he was taunting her, Willow would have been very happy at that particular moment to kick him in one particular spot...low and between his legs.  Maybe that would wipe the smug look off his face.  Instead, she resorted to name calling.  Childish but much safer.

"You're an arse!" she informed him quite loudly.

"A what?" he laughed.

"You heard me," Willow shot back, her hands landing on her hips.  "I said that you are an ass, Angel."

"Noo...you distinctly said 'arse'" he informed her, still chuckling.

Willow was fuming, and the fact that he was grinning at her like a Cheshire cat was not helping.  "Oh, and now you're my grammar coach in addition to being my personal trainer?"

"More of a diction coach really," he gently teased her in return, and soon Willow found her anger softening.  As much as she hated to admit it, a smiling Angel was a very difficult thing to remain angry with.

"Diction coach, personal trainer, riding instructor...I never realized how versatile you are," Willow retorted, a twinkle replacing the anger in her eyes.  "Do you do windows as well?"

"Only at night," he said with a shrug.  "You know, there is something that you are even better at than I am."

"Only one thing?" she snorted.  "And what would that be?"

"You're a master at changing the subject."  In the blink of an eye, he was serious again.  "Are we training today or not?"

"Not," Willow responded automatically.

Angel threw his hands up in the air in a sign of surrender.  "Okay then, Willow.  Considering how you freak out at the sight of a spider or a few innocuous comments I make, then maybe you really aren't ready for this yet" he replied with a nonchalant air that Willow found infuriating.  He turned around and headed for the staircase, towels around his neck.

<No wonder Buffy never fell in love with him,> Willow found herself thinking as she watched him strut away.  <He's so damn annoying!>

"I've had training, you know," she said calmly, refusing to call after him.  Willow moved to sit on the pummel horse, not bothering to see if he had stopped to listen to her.  "While I was travelling on my own in the...um, 1840's, I think it was, after fleeing London, long before Bath, I learned from a few masters."

Angel did turn around.  "Really?" he asked skeptically, then took a seat on the second from the bottom step.  "Tell me."

"It was by accident, at first," she began in a matter of fact tone.  "One night during a brief visit to Constantinople...er, or was it Istanbul?" she joked, earning another smile from Angel before she continued.  "I happened across quite a scuffle between a large group of vampires and three men.  The men were outnumbered at least 5 to 1 but were actually holding their own.  I could tell that they were Asian by their clothes and fighting styles, even if I couldn't see their faces.  I stayed back, pretty much hidden, afraid I'd get in their way.  Then, when they were down to their last opponent each, I noticed another group of about six or seven vampires ready to pounce on them.  The three men didn't see them, and the vampires hadn't noticed me, so I kinda yelled and threw myself at the one that was about to attack first...  Make a long story short, I staked a couple, but more importantly ruined the vamps sneak attack and the good guys won.  I was hurt though.  Not seriously, but I did take a couple of good hits to the head, dislocated my shoulder..."

Willow shrugged at the memory, as if being injured was no big deal.  "They spoke only a smattering of English, but between my various languages and theirs, we managed to communicate.  It turns out the three men were slowly making their way across Europe.  Their final destination was London, where they were going to seek out the Watcher's Council.  From what I gathered, Korea, China and Japan and most of the other Asian countries had lost their connections with the Council centuries earlier for various reasons, but there were some ancient prophecies that were to come to fruition in the relatively near future, I guess.  They wanted to reopen the alliance, learn everything they could and take it home to their own countries.  They were on this epic journey across the continents, in search of knowledge about all aspects of the occult from any place they could find it."

Sighing softly, she added almost as an aside:  "Seemed to me that it would have been a lot easier if they had just taken a boat from somewhere in Asia straight to England, but you know how people get when they are on a pilgrimage..."

Willow looked at Angel, pleased to find that he was hanging on her every word.  She gave him an apologetic smile.  "Sorry, I said I was going to keep it short, wasn't I?  Spike always said I was incapable of telling a story without babbling..."

"And I think we both know that Spike was never much for details," Angel offered in return.  "It's a fascinating story, Willow.  Go on...please..."

"Well, I guess I had impressed them with my lack of fear, especially for a European woman, and they looked after me for a day, fixing my shoulder and so on."  Willow did wince this time at the memory her shoulder being painfully reset.  "When we finally found a way to communicate, I guess I further impressed them with my knowledge of vampires and demons and such."  She laughed lightly.  "For a moment they even thought I was The Slayer...took me a while to convince them that I wasn't.  They couldn't figure out why any other girl my age would know so much and be able to take out a vampire or two without actually being a slayer.  The terms 'Slayerettes' and 'The Scooby Gang' didn't mean much to them...go figure," she chuckled before growing more serious.  "Because I supposedly saved their lives, they took it as their solemn duty to return the favor and teach me their ways.  Since I had nothing better to do with my time and had already realized that I really did need some sort of training to get me through the next few decades...well..."

Willow stopped to catch her breath.  "And to really make a long story short this time, I traveled with them for over a year, learning everything I could, and teaching them everything I knew about vampires and demons as well, but I never told them about who or what I really was.  I was very careful not to let them know anything that might affect the timeline, and they, thankfully, respected my privacy."  Willow sighed, as she looked Angel in the eye.  "That's my story...at least one chapter of it anyway."

Angel rose to his feet with deliberate slowness, shaking his head in wry disbelief.  At this point, he wasn't quite sure what to think.  He wanted to believe her completely, but something was nagging at him...making him want to doubt her story.

"So when you said you learned from the masters, you weren't simply being flippant?" he smirked.

"No, they were each masters of their own art.  I called them all Sensei, which seemed to really tickle the Korean and Chinese masters since it was basically a Japanese term or respect.  I think they liked it, though, because it kind of knocked the Japanese Master, Hashiyama, down a peg or two.  I guess it just kind of stuck.  Sensei Hashiyama, Kim, and Chen took it as their sworn duty to teach me everything they could in a short period of time...aspects of what I guess might now be taekwondo, aikido, hapkido, karate, tai chi...even a little yoga that they had picked up on their journeys."

"And you studied and traveled with these three men for one *whole* year?" he taunted her.  Nevertheless, while Angel was trying to sound blase about Willow's training, in truth he was incredibly curious to see exactly what she did know.  The various martial arts were constantly changing throughout history, so the prospect that Willow might now be the sole possessor of some of the more ancient techniques was intriguing.

Detecting his skepticism but choosing to ignore it, Willow simply nodded her head.  "Yes.  We parted ways before we reached France since I was afraid of running into..."

"Me."

"Basically," Willow admitted.  She had to look away from him again, deciding now was a good time to re-evaluate the room's equipment.  Anything to avoid seeing the doubt shadowing Angel's already dark eyes.  "I hope they made it, and I hope the Watchers Council was a bit more helpful to them than the arrogant bastards were to me..." she muttered more to herself than for Angel's benefit.  Her eyes came to rest on the sparring equipment--dummies, targets, and safety gear.  She'd had little equipment to aid in her odd training and more often than not had to practice her punches and kicks against one of the Sensei, or if she was very lucky a mattress or a pillow...at least a bunch of feathers couldn't punch back.

<Imagine how much more I could have learned with this kind of equipment?>  Suddenly the thought of being able to improve upon her basic skills was very...seductive.

Willow squeezed her eyes closed, shutting out the sudden shift in her thoughts and making herself focus on her current situation.  It wouldn't be one of her Sensei continuing his work with her, it would be Angel, which brought her back to the whole sweating, touching, fighting aspect that had originally given birth to her reluctance.  She honestly wasn't sure if she could handle that right now.

"While they focused more on defense than offense, I can take care of myself, Angel," she re-iterated, hoping to convince him somehow.  "I mean, I'm no Jackie Chan or Bruce Lee, and I have no idea if I could break a brick with my hand, but I did learn how to use an attacker's own energy and force against them.  It's sort of like applied physics, really."  She turned to look at him, somehow managing to meet his gaze.  While his expression was pleasant enough, she could see still see the skepticism in his eyes.  "Remember how I flipped you over my shoulder the other night?  Well, I've done that a few times now...it's kinda my signature move."

Angel actually was quite impressed, but he refused to let it show.  He still had some doubts.  While he didn't think Willow was deliberately lying to him, he wouldn't blame her for exaggerating the truth just a bit...anything to get out of having to spend any time alone with him, probably.  But he had made a personal vow to do everything within his power to keep Willow safe, and if that meant he'd have to bully her into proving her skill or into training, then that is what he'd do.  Her safety was more important than her friendship...or at least it should be, he reminded himself.

So he simply gave a quiet snort of disbelief as he got to his feet and began a deliberate pace around the mat.  "So, you think you know all there is about self-defense then?  After...what was it?  One *whole* year of training?"

"No," she replied in quiet indignation when he stopped in front of her.  "I just think I've learned enough for now.  If I'm attacked, I can defend myself.  I wouldn't win in a hand-to-hand fight like Buffy would, but I'd be able to disarm my opponent, and either buy enough time to escape or get out my stake and finish the job."

"And you think that's enough?"

"Kept me from being bitten for over 100 years...well, except for you and Spike, that is."

His immediate flash of anger at the thought of Spike biting his Willow was quickly overshadowed by the tone of Willow's voice.  There was a new tinge of bitterness coloring it that made Angel stop and rethink his tactics.  Maybe it was too soon.  In his desire to right every wrong he'd done to the girl before him, he was being an ass...no, an 'arse'.  The proof of her abilities could wait a little while longer...and maybe she'd prefer to train with Giles for a while in the beginning.

"I won't make you train with me, Willow," Angel relented, stepping away from her to grab the towels off the pommel horse where he'd left them.  "We'll just tell Buffy that we had to take it easy today because you have a headache or something."

"Um...okay...thanks..." Willow replied, more than a little relieved.  Not wanting to give him time to change his mind, Willow practically sprinted for the stairs.

That was easy.  Too easy, she soon realized.  Before her foot had hit the second step, she heard a rustling movement behind her.  When Angel's hand touched her shoulder, she reacted on instinct.  Grabbing his hand, she swiftly spun to face him then hooked a foot behind his leading knee.  Tightly holding his hand against her shoulder, she used her free hand to lock onto Angel's shoulder and then pushed.  The vampire was easily knocked off balance and fell to the mat at her feet.

Angel blinked up at her in a combination of awe and shock, then held up his other hand, which was still firmly clenching the towels.  "I was only trying to hand you a towel," he informed her from his position on the floor.

"Oh," Willow grimaced.  "Sorry, but I really thought you were testing me or something."  Embarrassed, Willow held out a hand to help the vampire up.

"Well, I wasn't," Angel replied honestly as he took the offered hand.  By the time Willow noticed the wicked gleam to his eye, it was too late.  Angel had pulled her down and flipped her over on to her back.  Now he was straddling her thighs and pinning the hand she'd offered him above her head.  "But that was," he grinned down at the surprised redhead.  Her surprise quickly changed into a look of sheer determination.

"My intention is not to scare you, Willow," he said genuinely, ready to let her go at the slightest indication that she was truly alarmed.  "If you want me to stop--"

"I'm not scared," Willow spat back.  She was too annoyed at being so easily tricked to be frightened.  Refusing to let him get the better of her so easily, Willow took a deep breath, quickly centering herself.  She wriggled a bit, moving the hand that he held to the mat above her head even higher so that he was fully extended, putting more and more of his weight on that one hand.  She used her other hand to push weakly at his hard chest, barely managing not to think about the impressive muscles she felt rippling beneath her splayed fingers.

Angel's grin broadened at what he assumed were her attempts to escape.  "Well, Willow, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to let you bite me."

His grin disappeared.  "Um, what?"

"Bite me, Angel," she urged between gritted teeth.

Angel hesitated, caught completely off guard by her odd request.  "Willow, I--"

"Don't you dare make me say it again," she hissed, turning her head to the side so that she wouldn't have to look at his looming face.

Without letting the demon's features emerge, Angel slowly lowered his mouth to her neck.  Even as memories of the taste and feel of Willow's skin beneath his lips made it more than a little tempting, Angel had no intention of actually biting her.  Still, he was curious to see what she was up to.  The moment she felt his cool skin brush against hers, Willow slipped her hand out from between them and reached behind to grab him by his short-cropped hair.  Simultaneously, she jerked her lower body up as quickly and harshly as she could manage, pulling the arm that he had 'pinned' to the mat, down and to her side.

With his precarious balance destroyed, the combined force toppled Angel to the side.  Moving with his rolling body, Willow was easily able to free her delicate wrist from his grip.  She ended on her knees next to him, an imaginary stake held above the prone vampire's chest.

For a moment, neither spoke.

"Poof," Willow finally whispered with a wicked grin of her own.

Thoroughly impressed, as well as a little embarrassed, Angel's eyes focused on the invisible chunk of wood in Willow's hand.  "Well done...and the way you waited for me...for the vampire to go for your neck...was--"

Suddenly Willow was the one rolling over, only to find herself flat on her back.  Again, Angel was astride her.  This time he was careful to pin both of her slim wrists to the mat next to her head, enabling him to keep a more balanced center of gravity.

"That's cheating," she complained to the vampire's smiling face.

Angel's eyes glimmered mischievously.  "I prefer to think of it as improvising."

"But we both know that if you were a vampire that was actually attacking me, I'd have staked you the first time.  A pile of ashes can't flip me like that!"  Willow frowned, realizing that she was practically whining.

He shrugged as best he could without it affecting his position.  "What if I don't go for the neck, then what?"

"You're a vampire...you always go for the neck.  And *if* I were actually scared, which I'm not, my pulse would be racing, my heart pounding, and you'd be unable to resist."

"Which Sensei taught you that?"

"Spike," she answered with a wicked grin.  "Those last few years we were together he worked with me as well.  Taught me how to fight dirty, mainly."

Eyes narrowed, Angel shook his head.  "That may work on fledglings, Willow, or on someone with no control, like Spike, but not on me...or any other master vampire."

"Oh really?  Then why are you staring at my neck and drooling?" Willow countered haughtily.

"And if you aren't scared, then why is your pulse racing and your heart pounding?" was Angel's retort.  Okay, so he might have been staring, but drooling?  Never.  Still, Angel had to resist the urge to wipe his mouth anyway...just in case.

Willow glared at him, but she knew he was right...her heart was racing.  Try as she might, she was unable to keep herself completely calm.  The gentle waterfall she often used to soothe her nerves looked more like a raging torrent after a hurricane, sweeping away everything in its path.  So she told him the truth.

"Because three days ago out in the woods you had me in the exact same position, and I--"

Instantaneously, Angel let go of her and sat up, moving away.  "Damn...I keep forgetting how recent that was for you.  No wonder you're so adverse to training with me...my touch must--"

"Confuse me," Willow interrupted gently as she sat up to wrap her arms about her bent knees.  "It doesn't repulse me or scare me, Angel, because I know that it's you.  But it just...confuses me still."

"And I just keep pushing you, don't I?" he growled at himself.  "Why couldn't I simply take what you said at face value?"

"It's okay, Angel.  Besides, it's not really surprising that you didn't believe I could take care of myself."  Willow swallowed; her mouth was dry.  "I couldn't get away from you back then, could I?"

Angel's first instinct was to comfort the redhead, but instead he took a step back, putting more distance between them.  "Willow--"

"Sure, while I was in your house those hideous and painfully tight dresses that you picked out for me, not to mention the guards posted everywhere, made things difficult, but I did try to escape, remember?"  Willow paused in her babble for a moment, unsure of who she was trying to convince more--Angel or herself.  "Spike stopped me," she continued, all too easily recalling those painful days.  "And there was a while there when I wasn't quite thinking straight anyway.  There was simply too much going on...I was so confused with everything Spike had done and said to me.  I just kept waiting, hoping a real opportunity for escape would present itself..."

Her eyes followed Angel as he climbed to his feet.

She shrugged uneasily.  "Turned out Spike had a plan of his own, not that he let me in on it until the two of you had practically destroyed me, but still...it worked and we got away.  When I was better and able to trust Spike again, he worked with me some more.  Like I said, just little tricks here and there.  But when you found me...in the woods...I couldn't think.  So the moment of truth came and all my wonderful training failed me completely," she chuckled coldly.  "Once again, Spike to the rescue."

She was trying to get Angel to talk, unnerved by his sudden lapse into silence as he stared at a far wall, apparently lost in his own thoughts.  If she wasn't mistaken, it looked like he was brooding.

Perfect.

She kept talking, hoping to snap him out of it.  "Um, I made what should have been a fatal mistake in the woods that night.  I-I panicked, lost my concentration..."

"It's understandable," Angel finally offered, turning back to face her.  The last thing he wanted was Willow blaming herself for something he'd done to her, no matter how long ago it was.  "When you'd escaped in the alley, I knew to be more cautious...that there was more to you than met the eye, again.  You'd lost the element of surprise, Willow...you had no weapons, nowhere to run..."

Hating the unusual tinge of self-loathing she was detecting in his voice--unusual for this particular version of Angel, anyway--Willow climbed to her feet.  Walking up behind him, she gently rested her hand on his arm.  "Maybe I was just waiting for you to bite me...all that hair would have given me quite a good grip for tossing you over my shoulder..." she said lightly, ignoring the memories of his fangs momentarily penetrating her throat.

"That wouldn't surprise me one little bit, Willow."

"And if you hadn't leapt off me like I were made of Holy Water just now, I think I would have managed to escape.  You were so busy trying to keep your center of gravity and balance that I could have easily worked a knee into your groin."

Angel grinned down at her, in spite of himself.  "You could have tried, my--er, Willow," Angel quickly corrected himself.  "And that's why I'm training you, all of you," he added quickly when she didn't seem to notice his near slip of the tongue.  "I don't want you to ever be put in that position again, by anyone or anything."

Willow removed her warm hand from his bare arm and took stepped back, putting the usual distance between them.  "And how about the other me?  Had you taught her a lot...was she any good?"

"She wasn't bad.  Not that she took it very seriously, and lately she'd been making up excuses not to train."

"Is that what Xander meant by his 'getting out of training again' line?"  Angel nodded.  "So you're expecting me to catch up on that slacker's lost sit ups and push ups?" she laughed.  "You can forget it, buster.  I've worn a corset...my stomach muscles are nice and firm, thank you very much."

"What if we just stick to the self-defense moves, then?" Angel cautiously suggested.  "I'd like to see what other tricks you've picked up over the years.  I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up teaching me something that might be useful to the others as well."

Willow cocked her head to the side as she considered his offer.  This just wasn't what she was expecting.  Angel wasn't what she expected and he just kept surprising and confusing her, and yet...it was kind of fun trying to outwit the often-arrogant vampire.

"Okay, well...maybe a little more couldn't, um, hurt..."

Noting her hesitation, Angel had a suggestion.  "Maybe we should come up with a safety word."

Willow blanched.  "A-a safety word?"

"Since we both seem to throw a little role-playing into our workouts, it would just be your way of telling me that you want to stop or take it a little easier."  Angel glanced awkwardly back and forth between the mat below his fidgeting feet and Willow.  "Um, safety words are generally used for--"

"I *know* what a safety word is, Angel, and I'm well aware of its standard, um, sexual use."

As the color slowly returned to her face to a degree that Willow was actually blushing, Angel was silently berating himself.  Considering the way he was talking to her, he might as well let his hair grow long again and don a pair of britches and his normal Irish Brogue.

Idiot.

"I'm scaring you now, aren't I?" he asked, his eyes dancing nervously between Willow's flushed face and his now twisting fingers.

"No, you just surprised me, that's all.  It's a good idea, although I'm sure I'll never have to use it," she informed his with a brave smile.  "You may want one though...in case you can't handle being pummeled with invisible stakes.  I'd hate to give you nightmares."

Noting how the twinkle had quickly returned to Angel's sable eyes and with a vengeance no less, Willow wanted to kick herself.  It sounded like she was flirting with him.  Hell, maybe she had been.

<Focus on the training, Willow!>

Willow sat cross-legged in the middle of mat, chewing on her bottom lip while she thought.  It should be something simple and short...a word she could easily spit out even when under great...stress.

"I fold," she suddenly blurted out.  "'Fold', or 'I fold'."

Angel nodded in agreement, unable to hide his amusement at her choice.  "I'll use the same one.  Seems rather fittin', don't ya think?"

Willow shook her head at his purposeful slip into the accent.  While it was a little unsettling, she was also pleased that he wasn't handling her like she were about to break.

"Shall we begin?" he asked, holding out his hand to help her up.  Cautiously, Willow took his hand, moving as if to stand, but instead she curled herself into a ball.  Flinging herself backward with all her might, Willow pulled him with her while using her feet against his abdomen to propel Angel over her head.  Before she'd even heard the thud as he landed lightly on the mat, she was on her feet.

Angel never stopped moving, easily flipping himself back on to his feet to face her.  "I suppose I have Spike to thank for that as well?"  Willow only smiled.  It looked like he had Spike to thank for a lot of things.

They went on like that for nearly two hours, exchanging flips and punches and kicks.  Willow did her best to 'stake' him at every turn, and when she failed, Angel offered advice on where she went wrong, until they both lay on the their backs on the mat, exhausted.

"Your teachers did well...*all* of them," Angel finally admitted after they'd both caught their breath.  He turned to his side, propping his head up on his hand.  "But I know I can teach you more, if you'll let me."

Willow turned to look at him, smiling at the hopeful look on his face.  She got to her feet, brushing herself off a bit before answering.  "Well, I suppose there may be a thing or two you could teach me."

Taking her response as a yes, Angel also stood.  "Good," he said with a soft smile that reached all the way to his eyes.  Angel grabbed the towels and handed one to Willow as they climbed the stairs together.

Once they reached the upper level, Angel turned down the hallway that led to his own quarters and Willow quickly went into the pink room, closing the door behind her and then collapsing on her bed.

She'd done the unthinkable.  She fought, touched, sweated and basically rolled around on the floor with Angel and had, for the most part, loved every minute of it.

"Oh yeah...I *so* fold..." she whispered aloud.

In his shower, Angel let the steamy water pound at his own tired muscles.  Eyes closed, Angel rested his forehead against the black and white tiles.

"I fold," he groaned as images of Willow's beautiful face, flushed from their workout came to mind.  "God how I fold..."

*****

After getting cleaned up and changed into some extra clothes she found in the dresser--jeans and a 'Sherman and Mr. Peabody' shirt--Willow was in the kitchenette pouring herself a diet soda with lots of ice, when Angel walked in.  Willow gave him a small smile as she waited for the foam to disappear so she could completely fill the glass.  She couldn't help noticing that the vampire looked freshly showered, his damp hair still glistening, feet bare.  He'd changed into black jeans and a simple, dark button-down shirt.  A far cry from the more elaborate clothes he wore in Victorian times.  Before he could catch her staring, Willow turned her attention back to her drink, topping it up and putting the lid back on the bottle.

Grabbing an individual-serving bottle of water out of the door of the fridge, Angel covertly watched Willow from the corner of his eye.  As Willow moved past him to put the bottle of Diet Coke back in the fridge, he noticed her grimace when she had to lean over.

"Sore?" he asked with true concern coloring his voice.  Considering he worked out almost every day, the vampire was embarrassed to admit that his muscles had protests of their own.

"Yeah," Willow admitted, gingerly rotating her head in an effort to work out some of the kinks.  "I guess I'm a little out of practice.  Spike's workouts usually weren't that...intense."

Angel cocked an eyebrow, a sly smile contorting his lips.  "That's good to know, although I'm always looking for another reason to kill him."

Willow would have been angry at his words if Angel's tone hadn't been so lighthearted.  She realized he was just trying to make small talk, in his own odd way.

Willow shook her head as she took a sip of her soda.  "I'll have you know," she said, after the bubbles quit tickling her nose, "he was a perfect gentleman...or gentlevampire...wait, no...that's not right, either."  She giggled quietly, not wanting those present in the other room to overhear.  "Let's just say Spike was very...unSpike-like when we trained."  Her remarks had them both grinning wildly as they headed out of the kitchenette and made their way down the hallway towards the library.

"And," Willow continued, enjoying the chance to tell Angel about a side of Spike that he wasn't familiar with, "he didn't make me call him master or Sensei or anything, so don't you get any ideas either!  You'll just have to put up with me calling you 'Angel'."

Angel chuckled, taking a swig from his water bottle.  "And some other choice names I heard you mutter under your breath a few times when I'd brought you to the mat."

Willow continued to laugh softly as they walked into the main room where everyone else--minus Jenny--were scattered about perusing various books and talking.  "You deserved every one of those, too.  Well, except for maybe 'son of a...'"  Willow's words and laughter quickly died when she noticed who had just walked in the front door.

Noting the abrupt change in her disposition, Angel followed her line of sight.

"Oz," they said in soft unison.

"Hey."

When he spoke, everyone else looked over and greeted the red-haired musician warmly.  He smiled at them all in return.

"It's nice to see you back safe and sound, Oz," Giles said, setting down his book to approach the young man.  "I trust you had a nice time with your parents?"

"For parents, they weren't half bad."

"So, whatcha stop by for, Oz?" Xander spoke up, happy for any excuse to put his current reading material aside.  "Did Tahoe leave you with a hankering for some demon hunting and researching?"

"Oddly enough, no," Oz replied with an enigmatic smile that made Willow's heart ache.  "Actually, I wanted to know how those repairs to the cage were coming along.  Full moon next week, so I wanted to see if I need to make other arrangements."

Giles smiled.  "Oh, well, all the changes we discussed before your departure have been completed.  I think you'll be quite satisfied with the results.  Care to go take a look?  I added a few special modifications myself that I thought might come in handy and make you a little more comfortable, and I'd be more than happy to show them to you."

"Thanks, but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather wait and get the grand tour later.  I'd rather not spend one more minute in a cage than I have to."

Giles quickly took off his glasses, bowing his head slightly in understanding.  "Well, of course.  There's no hurry."

"Gee, Giles," Buffy said, noticing the librarian's disappointment.  "Getting a bit excited about a cage, aren't we?  There is definitely more to you than meets the eye."

Cordelia giggled, winking at Buffy.  "Guess we'll just have to ask Ms. Calendar about that when we see her later."

"You will do no such thing," Giles vehemently insisted.  "Not that she'd have anything to tell you in the first place, mind you.  But honestly, children today..." he grumbled in good-natured embarrassment, shoving his glasses back on.  "In my day, a child would never dream of discussing...*cages* with adults..."

"Hey, speaking of which," Xander exclaimed, "Who's on Oz sitting du--"

"I'll do it," Willow interrupted, giving Xander a dirty look for his phraseology.  It was the first time Willow had spoken, possibly even breathed since they'd first spotted Oz, and she was still frozen in place on the other side of the room, drink in hand.

"I don't want to be any trouble, Willow," Oz replied gratefully.  "Maybe with the modifications you'll be able to just leave me locked up with a bowl of kibble--"

"No, Oz," she interrupted, somehow finding a way to make herself move further into the room and closer to her old boyfriend.  "I-it's no trouble...really, I don't mind."

Seeing the somewhat crestfallen look on Angel's face at Willow's decision, Buffy quickly added, "And Angel can stay too...that way Willow won't be all alone."

"I won't be alone," Willow shot back darkly.  "I'll be with Oz."

"Well, of course you will, Wills...I didn't mean..." Buffy stammered apologetically.

"It's okay," Oz told The Slayer.  He, too, was caught off guard by Willow's unusually abrupt tone.  "I actually agree with you.  I doubt I'll be much fun, Willow, unless you're up for a very dangerous game of fetch.  If Angel wants to keep you company while you're on watch, I won't mind."

Instinctively Willow knew Oz was just trying to lighten the mood when he joked about his wolfiness, but this time her frown only deepened.  Her troubled green eyes sought out his, searching their sea-green depths.  While his eyes were familiar, they were also a mystery, as if she no longer knew her way around the soft liquid pools.  Giving up, Willow sighed.  "I'll be there, Oz, but I've never thought of making sure you are safe as a duty or a chore."

Sure that he'd missed something along the way, Oz could think of nothing appropriate to say, so he simply smiled at the redhead.  He was relieved when she smiled back.

"Well, I should go..."

"When's your next, um, gig, Oz?" Willow asked as she took a few careful steps closer.

"Tomorrow night.  Not sure if we're ready, but that's never stopped us before."

Willow smiled at Oz's familiar modesty.  In her opinion, Oz never had given his band, or his own talent, the credit they deserved.  "Well, I missed you...your music...while I, I mean, while *you* were gone," Willow stammered, wondering how long it would take her to quit acting like an idiot whenever Oz was around.

"Huh," Oz said softly.  "I don't think we've ever been missed before."

"Well, you were," Willow said firmly, finally taking a seat at the main researching table before her legs gave out completely.

Cordelia chose that moment to speak up.  "Well, duh!  Since you're the house band, of course we missed you!  The DJ doesn't know Savage Garden from a hole in the ground and there weren't any actually *good* bands hanging around this summer, so The Dingoes will be a welcome change."

"I don't think we've ever been preferred over a DJ before either.  Thanks for that obtuse compliment, Cordelia."  He added a wink for Willow's eyes only.  "I'm thinking I should go...quit while I'm ahead."

Willow jumped to her feet, almost knocking over her drink.  "Oh, um, if you don't have anything better to do, we have...extra chairs...and books, lots and lots of books..."

Oz raised an eyebrow, taking in the various volumes littering several tables.  "I take it something wicked?"

"This way comes," Willow said with a nod.

"Wish I could, *really*, but I promised Devon my fingers for the rest of the day.  Maybe some other demonic uprising?"

"We'll be fine, Oz," Giles informed him.  "This is hardly an emergency, but if that should change..."  The Watcher didn't need to finish his sentence.  He knew perfectly well that if they really needed his assistance, the boy would do what he could and without complaint.

"Agreed," Oz replied in understanding.  With a last look around, and one final smile for Willow and Angel, Oz left as quietly as he'd arrived.

Willow could only stare at the door after he was gone, and Angel had yet to move from his spot near the hall.  Xander and Buffy exchanged curious looks.

"You two okay?" Buffy finally asked them.

"You both look like you've seen a ghost," Xander added.  Willow came out of her reverie long enough to look at Xander sheepishly, and Angel forced himself to cross the room and sit at the table with the others.

"Sorry," Willow said, glancing between her friends' concerned faces.  "I think maybe we overdid the work out.  I'm just feeling a little...out of touch, is all.  I'll be fine."

Before anyone could question them further, Angel spoke up, his voice strained.  "So, Giles, what are we looking for?"

***

An hour later and Willow, Xander, Angel and Giles were still seated around the larger table, looking for information on the latest demon.  Buffy and Cordelia had given up on the demons in favor of studying for their impending history final that week, and were now seated up in the dais area, lounging on the couches and supposedly quizzing each other.

Willow was trying her best to keep her mind on the reference material in front of her, but it was impossible.  She kept replaying the day's events in her mind.

She knew it now.  Whatever connection she'd once had with Oz--as strong as it had been in her own time--was nonexistent now.  She had no idea how to go about rekindling what they'd had, and it didn't seem fair that they would have to start from scratch after all they'd been through.  Correction, after all *she'd* been through with Oz in the previous timeline.  Nope.  Not fair at all.

And then there was the odd workout with Angel, the strange sense of...what?...that she'd felt afterward.  She couldn't even put it into words.

Or could she?  Maybe that was the problem.  She'd had fun with Angel, more fun that she wanted to admit, and she felt guilty about it.  Guilty for not thinking about Oz more, guilty for the strange feelings that she was having trouble pushing aside for Angel, guilty about...you name it.  The familiar guilt was creeping back in again, darkening her mood.

Angel was faring no better, although his grimmer emotions stemmed more from disappointment than guilt.  Willow's reaction to Oz's presence had been a sharp slap of reality to the vampire who had thoroughly been enjoying the illusion that perhaps he and Willow had shared something during their workout.  If nothing else, they'd at least seemed to find some common ground--a way to peacefully co-exist with each other--which was a start.

Willow truly was an enigma to him.  Every time he thought he'd placed a piece of the puzzle that was Willow, the image would change, and he'd find himself no closer to understanding the whole picture.  One minute she was yelling at him, challenging him, laughing with him, or doing her very best to kick his ass all over the mat, and then one look at Oz and she was every inch the 17-year-old girl that he'd thought was gone forever.  But she wasn't 17 anymore, and Angel was starting to believe that that was just as much his fault as it was Spike's--the trip back in time, the pain, the loss of Oz and her old life...

No wonder she couldn't bring herself to look at him, Angel thought as he peeked over his book at the preoccupied redhead.

One step forward, two steps back.  Yet again.

"Willow, would you kindly hand me the rainbow?" Giles asked, shattering the silence at the table.

"Um, sure, Giles," Willow replied automatically, her hand stretching across the table.

But for what?  What's the rainbow?

Not wanting to ask Giles what he was referring to, not with Xander next to her, Willow quickly perused the assortment of books on the table.  Rainbow?  From what she could tell, none of the books had a rainbow on the cover.  Just as she was beginning to panic, Angel, who was seated next to her, quietly slid a book into her hand.

"Thanks," she mouthed to the vampire, her smile a bit uneasy.  She glanced at the brown leather book entitled, 'The Definitive Demonic Translator - Deluxe Edition,' wondering why in the world he referred to it as 'The Rainbow' when she noticed the edge.  The pages were divided into different colored sections, each one with a thumb index, and the arrangement did somewhat resemble a rainbow.

"Thank you, Willow," Giles said absentmindedly as he took the tome from her hand.  Nearly sighing in relief, Willow went back to her own book.  After a moment of pretending to read the tiny words on the faded page, Willow glanced over at Angel.  He, too, sat perfectly still, holding a thick volume in his hands, apparently reading it as well.  Willow was about to turn the page, figuring that if anything important had been on the previous one she'd have absorbed it via osmosis after having stared at it for so long, when something made her look back up at Angel.

This time she *really* observed the vampire.  His grip on the book was too stiff.  She could see his fingernails making tiny crescent-shaped dents in the hard cover.  His jaw was firmly set, as if he were afraid it might open of its own volition, and his face was impossibly tight.  This was not the same Angel that had been needling her into training earlier with his annoying grins and cocky comments.

Wondering what could have possibly caused his change in mood, and yet not wanting to ask, Willow could only return to her researching and her own despondent thoughts.  Luckily, it was Xander's turn to break the silence.

"Not that this isn't fun...because it is so much worse than not fun, G-man, but this seems kind of pointless.  We don't have enough to go on.  What did the computer search reveal, Willow?"

Willow sat up, board straight.  "Um, computer search?"

"Actually, Mr. Harris," Giles interceded.  "I was rather hoping you would assist us in that regard this time around."  He'd almost forgotten about Willow's dilemma.  When he'd wandered that morning to find that she was training in the basement with Angel, it had seemed like almost any other Sunday.  He'd have to be more careful.

"Me?" Xander whined.

"Um, I think after my brain bruising, Giles realized that someone else needs to be capable of breaking several laws, just in case...you know...it gets permanently smushed," Willow suggested on Giles' behalf.

Unconvinced, Xander continued his protest.  "But that's what Ms. Calendar is for."

Giles rolled his eyes, shut his book and placed it firmly on the table.  "Yes, well, as you can see, Ms. Calendar is not here and you are."

"Where is Jenny?" Willow finally asked.  She'd been wondering about her whereabouts for a while, but didn't want to further embarrass the librarian in front of everyone.  "Didn't you two make up?" she asked in a near whisper, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Giles raised an eyebrow at her use of the teacher's first name.  "*Ms. Calendar* is at the school for a few hours, preparing her final and grading some projects.  She'll be here later."

"But did you make up?" Willow repeated softly.

"We are talking, Willow.  These kinds of things take time to sort out, but we *are* talking."

Willow mouthed a silent 'oh', casting a quick glance Angel's way.  "Talking is good...I guess..."

Angel slammed closed the book he was reading and added it to the pile in the middle of the table.  "I think I'll go quiz the girls on their history for a while.  You seem to have this pretty well under control, Giles."

"Oh, I need quizzing, too," Xander said, jumping up to follow Angel who was joining the girls on the dais, but Giles pointed sternly to the computer.

"As you so frequently pointed out earlier today when I gave you the opportunity to study, you are already prepared to, um, 'kick ass and take names' on your history final, Wednesday.  So if you would be so kind as to have a seat at the computer, Mr. Harris?"

"Fine," the dark-haired youth grumbled.  "But I'm officially under protest.  Once I start showing how smart I actually am, I know you people are going to begin expecting stuff from me.  And I don't need that kind of pressure at my age."

"Would you please try, Xander?" Giles sighed.  "This is rather important, and I promise that no matter how well you do, it won't raise our expectations for you in the slightest."

"It better not," he retorted, giving Willow a smile when Giles wasn't looking.

Willow watched from her spot behind a pile of books as Xander grudgingly took a seat at the middle computer and set to work.  Giles got up from the research table to sit next to Xander at the computer, leaving Willow alone with the books.

"Well, I've gone through these, Giles.  What's next?" she called out to the librarian.

"Just the usual, Willow.  Start with the typical indices, then cross reference them with the various prophecies...standard stuff..." he said offhandedly, already absorbed in what Xander was doing.

"The usual indices," she repeated to herself, glancing about the huge library.  She could remember a dozen or so different books that they'd relied on in the old days, but she'd already looked through many of those, and had no idea where the rest were.

"Um, Giles?"

"Yes, Willow?" he responded without turning around.

"Um, the usual indices?  You mean the ones over..."  Willow winced as she waited for Giles to pick up on her sense of helplessness.

"Giles?" she repeated when he didn't reply.

"What?  Oh yes...those ones will be fine for now..." he said, wagging his finger in the direction of about a half-dozen different bookcases.  "Can you find anymore references like this?" he asked Xander, pointing to something on the screen, Willow already forgotten about.

Willow was fighting back tears by now.  She felt completely useless and her already razor-thin sense of belonging was beginning to unravel as she realized the title 'research girl' that she'd once worn so proudly was in serious jeopardy.  Needing to prove herself, Willow began to peruse the maze of bookshelves, trying to find anything that might be useful.  Her arms full, she sat back down at the table and forced herself to concentrate.  An hour later, she'd found nothing, and once again her eyes were blurring with tears of frustration.

"So, Willow, have you had any luck?" Giles asked from directly behind her, catching her by surprise.

Unnoticed by the librarian, Willow wiped away the tears.  "Um, no...sorry, Giles.  Haven't found anything yet."

Giles picked through the books before her.  "No wonder," he said.  Although his voice was soft, Willow easily detected a note of frustration.  "Those books are useless in this case.  Utter waste of time, really."

Before Willow could apologize, Giles had gone to one of the nearby shelves and quickly grabbed several books.  Coming back, he plopped them down in front of the redhead with a loud thud that echoed throughout the room.  "You'll find these much more illuminating, Willow."

Willow could only glare at the pile of unfamiliar books.  She couldn't make herself look at Giles, although she could feel the weight of the others' stares.

"I'm hungry.  What's for dinner, Angel?" Buffy's voice relieved Willow from having to say anything to Giles as her frustration began to swell into anger.

Sensing his chance for escape, Xander shot up from his seat.  "Well, sounds like a sandwich run...I better hurry before it gets dark."

"You will do no such thing," Giles fired back, wagging his finger at the computer.  "You will sit back down in that chair and-and continue to break into the police department's record system, young man."

"Why do I feel like I'm at the KGB summer camp program?" Xander grumbled, flopping back down dejectedly into the computer chair.

"Willow, perhaps you could go get us something to eat," Giles suggested in a gentler tone.  "I'm afraid the kitchen is quite bare with all the, um, excitement over the past few days."

Willow's eyes widened as she finally looked up at the librarian.  "You want *me* to make a food run?"

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily.  "Yes, well, since everyone else is otherwise engaged--"

"Everyone else is being *useful*, you mean."

Hearing the beginnings of an argument from across the room, Angel stood up.  He shouldn't have left her alone to do the research, not when everything was so unfamiliar to her.  He'd simply been finding it too difficult to reconcile Willow's pre- and post-Oz behavior while sitting so close to her.

"No, that's not what I meant," Giles reassured the obviously upset redhead.

"Sure it wasn't," she muttered, grabbing her bag and heading for the old narthex at the front of the church.  "Let's just hope I'm capable of remembering what everyone likes on their subs," she added as she stormed out the front door.  The solid door closed firmly behind her, shutting in the voices of Angel and Giles as they called after her.
 

~Chapter Ten~

Willow charged down the street, barely resisting the urge to run.  Instead, she let the ground feel her irritation with each stomping step that took her farther away from Angel's residence, the scene of her most recent failure.

Willow was incensed.  After all, Giles was treating her like...well, like Xander!  Sending her to get the food when there was research to be done.  How much sense did that make?  None!  And if Xander thought that he could take her place, well...

Wait.  That wasn't right...

She marched on, trying to hold on to her ire a little longer, but she couldn't.  Not with the truth quickly catching up to her.

Hefting her backpack higher up on her shoulder, Willow sighed aloud.  With that soft release of a single calming breath, so, too, came the release of much of her anger.  Xander wasn't trying to take her place, and she knew it.  He was simply doing what was asked of him, and grudgingly, as well.

What Giles had asked him to do *instead* of her!  Her anger flared for a moment, but soon began to flicker unsteadily.

After all, she hadn't been able to do what Giles needed, had she?  The last keys her fingers had danced over were made of ivory and the last mouse she'd held had been removed, still wriggling, from a trap in her pantry back in Greece...

Eventually Willow's steps slowed to a more leisurely pace and she began to feel like a complete idiot for her earlier behavior.  Granted, Giles hadn't been very sympathetic to her special plight, but he had been rather preoccupied with the demon they'd been researching.  Besides, it wasn't exactly in either of his job descriptions to be her personal guru as she struggled to fit back into her old role.

She was also cognizant of that fact that he hadn't been the only one whose attention had been divided.  Rusty research skills weren't entirely to blame for her lackluster performance--Willow's mind had been elsewhere as well.  Looking back now she realized that she could have made her discomfort more obvious to Giles, letting him know that she was floating adrift in Angel's sea of books.  For that matter, she could have asked Angel for help as well.  As much as she wanted to blame her reticence in asking for the vampire's assistance on his strange and sudden silence, there was--as always--more to it than that.  *Much* more.

She didn't *want* to need Angel's help...any of their help, actually, because she *shouldn't* need it.  She was supposed to be Research Girl, Net Girl, the Sunnydale Sensei of hacking...and *that* Willow shouldn't require anyone's help where computers and books were concerned.

As she neared the town center, Willow came to the conclusion that she'd just have to try harder, maybe put in some extra time during the days ahead to learn her way around the library while everyone else was in summer school or preparing for finals.  She'd even ask for Angel's help, if that's what it would take to eventually reclaim her place in the Scooby Gang.

Yep, that was precisely what she would have to do.

Wandering through town, Willow began to be bombarded with memories uncovered by familiar places.  The family-owned ice-cream shop that she and Xander seemed to have single-handedly kept afloat over the years, the bridal boutique where she and Buffy had often stared at the wedding gowns, wondering if they'd ever get the chance to wear one, many frantic late-night trips to the magick shop, the movie theatre where she and Oz had gone on their first real date....

Oz.  Willow's steps nearly ground to a halt when she thought back to the events of earlier that day.  The brief meeting had been gut wrenching, made even worse by her inability to express her true feelings in front of Oz.  Instead she'd had to attempt to appear as if nothing was wrong.  Just another day on the hellmouth...no tattered hearts to see here, folks.  Move along please.

From the moment that she'd faced her unwitting ex-boyfriend, Willow's utter inability to be herself and react naturally to her emotional anguish had instilled in her a sense of helplessness that she loathed.  That loathing simmered into anger, the anger bubbled into outbursts, and finally boiled over until she was storming out, slamming the door behind her.

How very mature for a 135 year old.

She should have remembered that internalizing her emotions had never served her well in the past, but at that moment, she'd felt as if she'd had little other choice.  Even if she had been able to freely express herself, it wasn't like she could just blurt out, "Hey, Oz.  You know, you're supposed to fall in love with me!  Hop to it, already!"  Oz being Oz, he'd probably offer her his best cute-and-puzzled grin.

And then bail.

Willow sighed, kicking at a loose piece of cement as she walked, knowing she was right.  Oz was sweet, and caring, and kind, and intelligent, and funny, and she could go on and on with her positive mental list.  Nevertheless, the simple truth of the matter was that Oz did not do emotionally heavy situations.  It wasn't just that he didn't do them *well*, he didn't do them *at all*.  While her own personal coping techniques usually involved nonsensical babbling, his was much simpler.  He removed himself from the situation, hopefully to sort things out in his own time.

It worked for him.  Unfortunately, that meant that Willow wouldn't be pouring out her heart to Oz in the near future.  Their only chance was to start all over again.

How hard could that be?

With that thought still rattling around in her head, Willow suddenly realized that she must be close to her destination.  As she took a moment to get her bearings, she already knew that the brisk walk had done her some good, clearing her mind and allowing her to look at the big picture.

And now that she felt a bit more rational, it was the time to focus on the current task at hand.  Recalling that their favorite sub shop was just around the corner, not to mention the fact that it was the only kosher deli in town, Willow picked up her pace again.  Even though her anger had subsided, her mood was still quite dark and she'd pretty much had enough group interaction for one day.  So she might as well get this over with, play delivery boy, shrug off her odd behavior as being due to hormones or brain bruising, and go home.  Home was safe...and quiet...and the one place where she didn't feel like she needed to prove herself to anybody.

At least, that is, until her parents came home in a few days.

Pushing aside those worries for later, Willow headed for the fast-food restaurant, only to come to a screeching halt two doors earlier.

Mendelssohn's Muse.

A music store, and displayed neatly in the iron-barred window for all to see were beautiful instruments of every description.  A stately chestnut bassoon stood proudly in the corner, its smaller cousin the oboe nestled in black satin at its feet.  The bright brass of a French horn, trumpet, and coronet marched in line across the center of the window box, ending with two slender silvery flutes and the diminutive piccolo.  In the other corner, a noble violin reclined in a cobalt-blue velvet-lined case, matching bow resting at its side.  Colorful pieces of sheet music and instructional booklets filled in the gaps between the silent orchestra.  Yet Willow noticed none of these perfectly polished and artistically displayed instruments...she had eyes for only one item in the back row...a lone acoustic guitar stood tall, waiting.

It was exactly what she needed to help her muddle through the difficult days ahead.

There was no hesitation.  Answering its siren song, Willow darted for the door, ready to buy a guitar of her own, but the store was locked-up tight.  According to the sign on the door and punctuated by the lack of lights inside, the establishment appeared to be closed.

It was Sunday.  Even on a hellmouth, stores closed early on Sunday.

Not giving up hope just yet, Willow rapped on the door anyway, then cupped her hands against the glass and peered in for any sign of life...even unlife would have been okay as long as it knew how to work the cash register, but the place was deserted.

"Nope.  Nothing's ever easy," she said with soft disdain, noting that the store was closed on Mondays as well, meaning she'd have to wait until Tuesday at 9 a.m. to buy her musical supplies.

Willow sighed as she turned away from the store. True, she was disappointed, yet there was still a little spring in her step that hadn't been there before.  After all, in two days, she'd be able to play again.  And in her experience, waiting two days was a breeze...

Especially when compared to remembering what kind of subs to order everyone, she realized as she continued down the sidewalk.  Now she really wished she hadn't stormed out so dramatically...would have been nice to have a neat little list, complete with everyone's choice of condiments.

"Oh well," she chimed in unison with the doorbell that signaled her entrance into the small deli.  As far as she knew, the world had never ended just because someone was stuck with turkey on wheat instead of ham on rye.

***

Fifteen minutes later Willow was muscling open the door of the shop with her shoulder, trying to manage several take-out bags laden with a variety of Scooby Snacks, along with her backpack that kept slipping down her arm.  Thankfully, someone opened the heavy door more widely and held it for her, making her exit much more graceful.  Glancing up to thank the considerate stranger, Willow was surprised to look into a familiar face.

It was Giles, looking decidedly nervous at that particular moment.

"May I give you a hand with those?" he asked with a cautious smile.  "Or perhaps I should step out of the way so you can slam this door as well?" the librarian added, fervently hoping that his attempt at humor might ease the tension between them.

Willow's eyes widened, and for a moment Giles was worried that he'd only angered her further, until he saw the grin that quickly followed her expression of surprise.

"I guess I deserved that," Willow admitted.  She happily handed the relieved Watcher a couple of the sacks of food, then adjusted her slipping backpack.  Over his shoulder she could see the familiar sickly-green Citroen parked against the curb.

Seeing that she had spotted his car, he smiled a little sheepishly, pushing his glasses up a bit.  "I would have gotten here sooner, but I had a bit of trouble getting her to start.  May be time to invest in a new form of transportation soon, I'm afraid."  He decided against telling her that he also had to talk Angel out of coming along, which was no easy task even after he'd reminded the vampire that the Citroen's windows weren't tinted.

They walked side-by-side to his car, and then Willow gave one of the tires a soft kick, as if she'd never seen one before.

"I've heard that these fancy new combustion engines can be very unreliable.  Maybe you'd like to try a horse and carriage some time?" she said lightly.  "It would go great with tweed."

"I'll keep that in mind, Willow."  Chuckling, Giles put the bags in the back seat, then like a true gentleman, he held the door open for her  "I'm only sorry that your first car ride in over a century can't be in something a bit more...elegant."

Smiling excitedly, Willow waved away his apology as she got in.  She was actually quite looking forward to the short car trip.  "Honestly, after some of the transportation I've had to endure over the years, this is the ultimate luxury."  Her answer seemed to please the librarian, a half-smile of appreciation tugged at the corners of his mouth as he closed her door and proceeded around to the driver's side.

Willow waited until Giles was in his own seat and buckled up before she spoke again.  "Thank you, by the way."

"You're quite welcome for the ride, Willow."

"While I do appreciate the lift, that wasn't what I was thanking you for."

"Oh?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as he started the car and pulled carefully out into the light Sunday evening traffic.

Willow grinned at his inability to lie, offhandedly wondering if she could talk the librarian into a game or two of poker in the near future.  "Thank you for phoning in the order and telling the guys behind the counter to just ask me if I wanted 'The Usual'.

Giles flinched sheepishly.  "That obvious, was it?"

"You might have gotten away with it if they hadn't already had one of the sandwiches made before I'd even arrived.  Oh, and the 'shall we add it to the tab, Willow?' was a nice touch."

"Well, in my defense, in your, er, rush to leave, you didn't collect any money."

"It was very thoughtful of you, Giles."

"Unlike my behavior earlier today," he said, finally broaching the subject.  "I am truly sorry, Willow, if I made you feel in anyway..."

"Inadequate," she supplied.

Giles took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at the woman beside him, happily noting that her young face showed little trace of her previous anger.  "Unappreciated was the term I was searching for, but either way, I do apologize."

"I overreacted, Giles.  I seem to be doing that a lot lately."  Willow stared out her window, watching the familiar streets of her childhood rush by.  "The Rom are a very passionate and expressive people.  Perhaps it rubbed off on me a bit," she suggested.  <Spike isn't exactly 'Mr. Stoic' either>

"Still, I should have been more sensitive to your, well, your special circumstances.  I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you, and after all, you have only been back a few days."

"Not even three full days yet."  Willow continued to stare out her window, leaning forward to rest her head against the glass.  "I knew it wouldn't be easy, and yet I never thought I'd feel this out of place, Giles."  Willow let out a slow, longing breath, and a small portion of the window fogged up in response.  With one finger, she traced a tiny heart in the patch of misted glass, then watched as it slowly faded away.  "For so long while I was away, all I wanted to do was sit in the Sunnydale High library with everyone and research the latest demonic bad guy or surf the net.  That library always felt more like home to me than my *actual* house, but now...there's a new library with so many new and unfamiliar books and...and I don't know where anything is...."

"And I was hardly helpful in that regard, was I?"

"No, you weren't very helpful, but I realize now that you had other things on your mind."

"This is true."  His voice was strained.

Willow finally turned to study the Watcher.  For the first time she noticed how genuinely troubled he appeared.

"This new demon that you are having us research...do you think it's something terrible?  Should we be worried?"

Giles sighed, something she didn't remember him doing very much.  Perhaps it was because he was driving and therefore couldn't safely remove his glasses to clean them, which she remembered as being his usual reaction when answering difficult questions.

"Frankly, Willow, I have no clue, earthly or otherwise."

"What do you mean?"

"To be honest, Willow, before, I wouldn't have worried about this demon.  As far as we know, it hasn't attacked anyone or done anything else to raise our suspicions, so I would have simply let it be.  Unfortunately, as I said, that was before...."

"Before?"

"Yes, before, Willow.  Before you came back and I found out that all of these so-called prophecies that we so cleverly used to our advantage, allowing us to keep control of the situation here in Sunnydale, were because of you."

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"Knowing what I do now, I fear our earlier successes simply gave us a false sense of security," he admitted in a defeated voice.  "We cheated, albeit unknowingly, but still...it was as if someone told us all the details of the exam before we sat down with pencil in hand.  Now that we no longer have your experiences or prophecies to help us succeed, we're on our own...like the proverbial babes in the woods, so to speak.  And as difficult as we thought it has been up until now, I'm afraid that we don't know the half of it."

"Is that what has you so worried?" Willow asked, incredulous.  "You think the only reason you made it this far is because of the prophecies I left for you?"

Giles' grip on the steering wheel tightened.  "Isn't it?"

Willow shifted in her seat so she directly faced the librarian behind the wheel.  "Giles, as Spike so loves to say, 'for a smart man, you aren't very bright, are you?'"

"Pardon me?"  Surprised by the source of her saying as well as her bluntness, Giles could only blink at her momentarily before turning his attention back to the road.

Willow shook her head, trying not to smile at Giles' apparent mid-Watcher crisis.  "Who do you think got Buffy and me and everyone else through those first few years on the hellmouth in my time?  It wasn't luck, Giles.  It was you.  The man that I'm looking at right now was--*is*--the same man who helped us survive all of those difficult events.  You're as responsible for those prophecies as I am, Giles, if not more!"

"I admit that I hadn't quite looked at it that way, Willow," he conceded, but he still sounded unconvinced.  His expression remained grim.

"Besides," Willow continued, "I've seen some of those so-called prophecies the Rom gleaned from my diaries.  They were awfully cryptic...I don't know how you managed to make head or tail of them.  Bloody hell...I *lived* those events and yet I still couldn't understand some those prophecies.  Not to mention the fact that you faced things in this timeline that we didn't!"

In spite of her colorful language, that perked him up a little.  "We--we did?"

Willow nodded emphatically as she thought back to some of the stories Jenny had shared with her when they exchanged histories the day before.  "Ms. Calendar said something about an enormous blob?"  Giles nodded, vaguely.  "And how you ingeniously saved the day using a turnip, barbecue tongs and some ordinary household bleach?" Willow almost laughed as she recalled the odd story that sounded more like an urban legend than the stuff of future Slayer legend.

"Yes, well, that was rather ingenious, if I do say so myself."

"And there was some amulet that a particularly nasty flying demon horde was after?" she continued enthusiastically.

Giles' face lit up.  "Yes, that was a rather difficult yet fascinating encounter.  It took a lot of research, but we managed to find a spell that temporarily grounded them, allowing Buffy to easily dispatch the smelly brutes."

"And the Ritalin curse?"

"Radillion," Giles corrected her amiably.  "It was horrible...for three days the town was in utter chaos...it was as if everyone were stuck on fast forward.  No one walked, everyone ran, no one talked, everyone yelled.  It was quite wearisome...all the bad manners, not to mention how Main Street suddenly became the Autobahn.  Thankfully, we managed to find the source of the curse and neutralize it before everyone died from a heart attack or exhaustion."

"See," Willow said with a soft smile as she reached over to squeeze the Watcher's arm supportively.  "You didn't really need all those rambling prophecies, but if I did help in some small way, I'm glad.  So relax, Giles.  Trust your instincts as you did before.  You're a superb Watcher in charge of probably the greatest Slayer ever.  Throw in the fact that you have the rest of the Scooby Gang in your corner, and I know you'll save the world just in the nick of time, *every* time."

Giles went all quiet then, but by the relaxed, almost proud look on the normally modest librarian's face, Willow knew she'd gotten through.

Soon Giles was pulling into the weedy parking lot in the back of the church.  He shut off the engine and turned to Willow, who was now staring out at the church with her own tight expression.  The trip back seemed far too fast.

"Um, Angel said your training went quite well today."

Still fixated on the stone building with its ornate stained-glass windows, Willow shrugged.  "It wasn't all bad.  Once I got over the, um, awkwardness, it was actually almost fun."

"He also mentioned that you managed to take him to the mat on more than once occasion.  Perhaps you found it rather...cathartic?"

Willow gave Giles her full attention, wondering what he was leading up to.  "Maybe a little, but it was still strange.  Now that I know more about Angel and why he's so...different, I'm not sure how to act around him anymore...if I ever did," she added softly.

Giles nodded sympathetically.  "We were only able to speak briefly today, but he did mention what he now thinks is responsible for your perceived changes in him."  Giles paused.  "That must have been quite a shock to you."

"I never wanted or expected my words to make such a difference, Giles.  I just...hated seeing him like that.  I wanted to give him hope, make sure that he knew he had to keep on going...for *Buffy*."

"Even after everything he had done to you..." Giles shook his head in amazement.  Then seeing the startled look on Willow's face, he hurriedly added, "I know very little of what happened between you and Angelus, Willow, other than what you've told me.  I can only imagine that you two have had some rather--"

"Yes, we have, Giles," Willow interrupted gently.  She was hoping to save them both from an embarrassing conversation.  "And while someday I may be ready to go into all the, ah, sordid details, today is not that day."

"Of course, Willow.  But have you given more thought to telling the others about your experience?  Perhaps you would find things much easier if you didn't have to continually...well, lie to your friends."

Willow leaned back against the worn seat, eyes closed.  "I know I should, and I *will*...*when* I'm ready."  She slowly shook her head, a wistful sigh slipping from her lips.  "While I hate lying to them, right now I have quite enough to cope with without being treated differently by Buffy and Xander.  I need that small inkling of normalcy right now, even if everything seems far from normal."

Hearing the pain in her voice, Giles thought it was time to return the favor she had just done for him.

"You do realize, Willow, that everything you said to me earlier, also applies to your particular situation," Giles said with sincerity.  "While I know you are questioning your usefulness, your place in the, er, old gang, just as I was, you should know that you were always more than just the research girl or computer expert."  Giles shifted in the small seat to directly face Willow and found the redhead gazing at him with glistening eyes.  Obviously, this was something that she'd needed to hear quite badly.  "What you brought, what you *bring*," he corrected, "to our group has always been more than skill and intelligence, Willow.  You...you have this uncanny ability--a special gift, really--to draw out the best in everyone around you.  And even with everything that has happened to you, the seemingly endless difficulties that you've had to endure, you *still* do precisely just that."  At this point, Giles had to remove his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose to get his own emotions under control.  After a moment, he slipped the spectacles back on and looked back up at Willow--who was now teary-eyed but smiling--to finish his heart-felt speech.  "And I know that I, for one, am very thankful for having *you* in my life."

Without thinking, Willow leaned forward, planting a soft, lingering kiss on the Watcher's cheek.  "And you, Giles," she said quietly against his unshaven cheek, "*still* manage to always say the right thing."

"Yes, well, thank you, Willow," he replied, after she returned to her own side of the car, his smile not hiding the fact that he was blushing.  "And I will respect your wishes to keep this matter a secret from the others for the time being.  But, I am sure that you'll find their response to the 'new' you, the same as mine."  On that note, Giles climbed out of the small car, then went around and opened Willow's door.

After wiping away a few happy tears, Willow held out her hand for him to help her to feet, as if she were a Victorian lady climbing out of a carriage.  Giles smiled in quiet awe as she rose gracefully out of the car.  He doubted that she was even aware of her old-fashioned behavior.  After living for so long in an era when manners actually mattered, they were most likely second nature to her now.

"But please promise me next time I forget myself and your special situation, you'll give me a gentle reminder of some kind," he suggested when she was on her feet again.

"I'd wink at you but I'm afraid that might make Jenny jealous," Willow giggled as she grabbed a couple of the bags out of the back seat.  Then she stopped, gazing up at Giles with fiery emerald eyes that could never be mistaken for innocent.  For a moment, Giles held his breath, completely unprepared for such a physical reminder that she hadn't been 17 for a very long time.  "Unless you want to make her jealous, Rupert," she insinuated silkily.

Giles sputtered.  "I, well...that is, I was referring to, um..."

"Sorry, Giles."  Her tone was once again all sweet and innocent, although he noticed that she didn't have the courtesy to blush or stammer for the momentary lapse in her behavior.  Instead, she was very matter of fact.  "I've spent a lot of my time with men, um, your age over the years, for one reason or another, and you could almost say that flirting was in my job description."

Giles blanched as all sorts of possibilities came to mind of how, exactly, she'd spent that time.  For a moment it looked as if he might have to kill Spike after all.  But before he jumped to any conclusions, he had to know.

"Dare I ask what you were doing that required you to, er, well..."

Grinning madly, Willow looped her hand through the Watcher's arm, tugging him toward the front of the church.  "Have you ever played poker, Giles?"

*****

Angel, who was in the middle of recounting "the situation" with Jenny, heard their laughter long before the front door of his home creaked open.  Still laughing, Willow and Giles walked in, the redhead's arm linked through the librarian's.  Although it was strange to see them together like that, Angel was relieved that she seemed to be in a much better state of mind than when she'd left.  For that matter, Giles was looking rather jolly himself.  Angel forced down the twinges of jealousy he felt at their familiarity...he told himself he shouldn't be surprised if the two did grow closer after everything that had happened to her.  After all, they'd have more in common now, even if there was still a considerable age gap between them.  This time, though, Willow was the elder.

Refocusing on the pair as they came closer, Angel heard Giles ask in a hushed voice, his awe apparent, "You bet it all on a pair of sixes?"

Eyes dancing, Willow nodded, then said even more softly as they neared the others, "Best part is, the fool folded with a full house!"

"You know, if that picture weren't so disturbing, I'd almost say that they made a cute couple."  Xander's voice captured the odd duo's attention.  Buffy and Cordelia, who were both wrinkling their noses in disgust at the boy's remark, were sitting around the largest table with Xander.  Jenny and Angel rose from their seats on the nearby couch to join them.

Not the slightest bit embarrassed, Willow smirked at the dark-haired youth as she released Giles' arm and they set the carryout bags in the middle of the table, which was now devoid of books.

Willow tried to greet them as if nothing odd had happened that day.  "Um, hi guys!" she said, perhaps a bit too brightly.  "And you can relax, Xander," she added amiably, dropping her backpack on another table before waving to Jenny in greeting.  "Giles is a little too young for me.  Besides," she whined with an overly dramatic sigh, "he only has eyes for Jenny."

Giles was trying not to laugh, Jenny was smiling, and Angel was positive that he must not have heard the redhead right.  Until, that is, Buffy turned to him, winked and whispered, "See...told you Willow likes *older* guys..."

If Angel were capable of blushing, he was sure that he'd be beet red at that moment.  He shook his head in wonder.  Two hundred years old, and with one innocent remark, Willow had him feeling like an inexperienced schoolboy.  Again.

Not fully aware of the mini-scene she'd created, Willow began unloading the bags.  "Dinner is served," she said, piling the chips and giant cookies in the middle of the table.

"Finally!" Xander groaned.  "I'm starved."  He craned his neck to look into the other sacks.  Before he could find his sandwich, Cordelia kicked him harshly under the table while gesturing toward Willow with her head.  Taking the very obvious hint that he was the one elected to broach the delicate subject of Willow's odd behavior, Xander forgot about the food for a moment and cleared his throat.

"So, Wills, you okay?  You kinda had us worried there with your 90210-like exit."

Ashamed, Willow grimaced as she looked around the table at all of her friends' worried faces.  She even went so far as to glance at Angel, but he appeared more confused than anything else.

"Sorry if I worried you, everyone, but I'm fine...now.  Um, I'm told that moodiness is an unfortunate side effect from that bad spell casting.  Right, Ms. Calendar?"

Jenny didn't miss a beat.  "Yes, Willow.  Shouldn't last too long, though.  I'm sure you'll feel like yourself again, real soon," Jenny assured her, her voice as warm as her smile.

Willow smiled her thanks, easily catching the other woman's double meaning.

"We'll go get some drinks, shall we, Jenny?" Giles said.  Nodding, Jenny joined him and they disappeared down the hall, their heads close as they discussed something quietly between them.

With the three young people seemingly buying the flimsy excuse, Willow began to sift through the bags, handing each one what she hoped was the appropriate sandwich.  Angel said nothing as the redhead doled out the food.  He simply watched, trying to figure out what could have happened to change her mood so dramatically.  Lost in thought, the vampire was caught off guard when her green eyes rose to meet his.

"Sorry, Angel, but blood on rye still isn't on their menu."

The same twinkle in her eye that he'd witnessed during training was back, and it beckoned him.  Joining the others seated at the table, he casually leaned in and, much to Willow's surprise, grabbed one of the over-sized chocolate chip cookies.

"I prefer it on pumpernickel, actually," he told her, a half-smile brightening his handsome face.  "I've always thought that rye gives the blood a nasty aftertaste."

Willow cocked an eyebrow at his joke, while the others made fake gagging sounds.

"Do us all a favor, Deadboy...if you're going to dunk that cookie in a glass of blood, do it somewhere else."

Angel chuckled, but Buffy spoke up in his defense. "Xander, this is Angel's house, and if he wants to dunk, let the vamp dunk!"

Willow grinned.  The Slayer was sticking up for Angel...that was a good sign.

"Have a seat, Willow," Buffy said in her perkiest tone, patting the seat beside her, which just happened to be next to the vampire as well.  "You must be starved after your *very* long workout with Angel, The Slave Driver."

Buffy's knowing grin was pure teen-aged girl, and it make Willow fidget as all eyes turned to her.

"Um, I was kinda thinking of going home..."

"Well, I'll walk with you, then," Buffy offered, getting to her feet.  Then her eyes settled on the food again.  "But can we eat first, Wills?  I am kinda hungry *and* that way I can burn off the calories from that evil-sized cookie that you just know I'm going to eat."

"In fact, why don't we all head home after we've eaten?" Giles suggested, as he and Jenny joined them, bearing several cans of soda each.  "I think we've done enough research for the day regarding this particular demon.  And, to be honest, I'm not really sure that it poses much of a threat.  Either way, it can wait until tomorrow."

"What made you change your mind, Giles?" Buffy asked.

"Oh, just a gut instinct I have, I suppose," he replied, looking over the top of his spectacles at Willow and trying very hard not to smile.

"Great!" Cordelia chimed in as she got up to help distribute the sodas.

"Especially since everyone but Willow has a final to take this week," Xander said, popping open his cold root beer.

"So it's decided then," the Slayer said, settling back into her seat.  "First we eat, then we can all go home."

Another excuse was poised on Willow's lips, but as she looked around the table at the old friends that she'd missed so much, suddenly she wasn't in a hurry to go home after all.  After her talk with Giles, her mood had lifted considerably.  And while happiness still seemed more like an elusive dream, at that moment she'd settle for awkward familiarity.

"Okay," the redhead agreed.  "I just have to wash up first."

The moment Willow disappeared down the hallway, everyone quickly exchanged the sandwiches she'd mistakenly given them for the *right* ones.  By the time Willow reappeared, they were all happily munching away, and Willow was none the wiser to her errors.

*****

Willow had just flopped down on her couch and grabbed the remote, all set to watch her first television in more than a century, when the doorbell rang.

Groaning, Willow was tempted to ignore the bell in hopes that whoever it was would go away, but its incessant ringing made it impossible to disregard, even over the lure of an X-Files rerun.

Glancing over at the living room window to confirm what she already knew--the sun had set--Willow could only hope that it wasn't whom she thought it was.  Her body still ached somewhat from Angel's training, and she really wasn't in the mood for anymore 'talks' right now.

After having had a pleasant dinner full of lively conversation with her friends, Buffy had walked her home.  They'd chatted about everything and nothing at all--the usual teen-aged topics that she remembered fondly.  All in all, it had been a good ending to a difficult day, and the last thing she wanted now was some heavy, deep discussions, no matter how well intentioned.

Resolute in her decision to tell the vampire 'not tonight, Angel, I have a whole body ache', she went to the door and threw it open.  In an instant, her face lit up and her posture straightened, her exhaustion forgotten.

"Spike!"

The blonde vampire couldn't help grinning at her enthusiastic welcome.  "Surprised, Red?"

"Relieved, actually. I was afraid it was...well, you know..."

Spike arched a scarred brow at the redhead.  "Don't tell me they've managed to talk you out, Red."

"Well actually..."

In response to her sheepish smile, Spike frowned, glancing down at the ground below his feet, lifting one, then the other, and even hopping up and down a bit.

"What are you doing?" she asked the vampire as he fidgeted on her doorstep, staring at the porch floor.

Spike's face was a picture of concern, his forehead wrinkled with worry.  "With you not wanting to talk and all, I'm expecting hell to freeze over at any moment...figured we'd be able to feel it from all the way up here."

"Spike..." she growled playfully, earning her one of Spike 'gotcha, Red' smirks.

"Seriously though, Red, if you're not in the mood...to talk, that is..." he added with a wink.

Not taking the sexually-laden bait, Willow replied in all seriousness:  "When I'm with you, I'm not 'talking', Spike.  I'm being me.  There's a difference."  Then Willow stepped back from the door, looking at the vampire expectantly.

Cocking his head to the side, Spike simply blinked at her, his lips pursing slightly.  "Uh, forget the rules already, did we?"

"No...just curious about something."  Willow took another step back and opened the door wider, waiting for Spike to try to enter her home.

Understanding and now quite curious himself, the vampire bit his bottom lip as he lazily stuck a single pointed finger toward the door, arching a brow when it indeed hit the invisible barrier.

Willow released a breath of relief.  At least she could add something else to her very short 'Did Not Change' list.  "Come on in, Spike."

"'Fraid you and I have some sort of sordid past?" the vampire asked as he swept around her and into the foyer, leather duster billowing in his wake.

After shutting the door, Willow gave him her most knowing look.

"Er, the other version of you and me, that is," Spike amended, before grinning.  After all, how much more sordid could their past actually get?

Willow was about to lead him into the kitchen, which is where in the past they'd usually carried on their more important discussions, when she turned back around.  "Oh, er, do you want to take off your coat, or now that you have it back are you sleeping in it, too?"

Spike shook his head, shoving his hands back in its comfortably familiar outer pockets.  "Duster stays...have to keep up my *un*husbandly image, after all."

"Spike, you never have, and never will, look like a husband," Willow said over her shoulder as he followed her down the hall.

Spike was practically beaming as he stepped into the kitchen.  "That could quite possibly be the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Red."  Willow smiled, shaking her head.  "So, why the entrance exam, love?  Something I need to know?" he asked as he glanced around the spotless room.  To the vampire it felt more like a hospital than a kitchen.  With its all-white tiles, countertops, cabinets and floors, it was far from homey.  Spike found himself missing the more provincial kitchens of old where he and Willow had always enjoyed playing cards, talking, and drinking wine for hours, surrounded by real wood furnishings and earthy tones.

"Believe it or not, apparently Spike v2.0 had some designs on Willow v2.0," Willow informed the vampire as he jumped up to sit on the counter next to the kitchen sink.  "From what little I can tell without asking too many questions, he'd been watching me--I mean, *her*--and making the occasional ambiguous comment."

Spike shrugged, still studying the antiseptic surroundings with obvious distaste.  "Not surprising, really."

"And why not?"

Spike glanced to Willow, momentarily thinking how out of place she looked in her own house, before pushing those thoughts aside to focus on the discussion.  "He had to figure that when I was back, I'd be coming for you, Red."

Willow moved to stand before him, her arms hugging herself in response to the odd statement.  "Er, coming for me?"

Spike leaned toward her, his hands on his knees, as if revealing a secret.  "You don't think I let William really know what was going on between the two of us, do you?"

Willow frowned.  "Nothing's going on between the two of us, Spike."

"Exactly," Spike announced, sitting up straight.  "Information like that's likely to ruin a bloke's reputation.  Not to mention confuse the hell out of William, putting a dent in his demonic-yet-manly ego."

Willow lifted her eyes heavenward, more at herself than at Spike's revelation.  She should have known.  "So...better to let yourself--or at least the other version of yourself--believe that I'm doomed to be your--"

"Twentieth-century chew toy?" Spike offered with a dangerous smile.

Willow grinned, her own smile far from innocent.  "Exactly."

Flooded with a nearly overwhelming sense of normalcy, Willow stepped between the sitting vampire's legs and hugged him.  "Hope I'm not denting your demonic manliness too much," she murmured against his chest, "and I know I already said this, but I am *so* glad you are you, Spike."

Spike pulled her closer, resting his cheek on the top of her head and letting a familiar feeling of calm wash over him.  He'd given up fighting his rather undemonly feelings for Willow long ago.  Whatever they had--a relationship that defied description--was simply a part of him now and always would be.

"Things that bad, love?" he asked after a brief silence.

Sighing, Willow finally pulled back, but her hands remained on his jean-clad knees.  "I don't know if 'bad' is the correct term.  Just different."

"Well, I guess we need to talk then, Red.  And it just so happens that I brought you a couple of prezzies, one of which happens to go great with talking."

Willow took another few steps back, looking him over for any sign of these gifts he'd mentioned.  "Presents?" she asked with an expectant grin.  "What kind of presents?"

Spike eased himself down from the counter and pulled out a bottle of wine from one of the deeper pockets inside his duster.  "It's our favorite flavor...red," he grinned lasciviously, wagging his brows.  "Figured you could use a drink about now, but with your innocent appearance and all, thought we'd want to avoid the Sunny-D happy hour scene..."

Willow was elated, not just because she'd love a glass of wine at that particular moment, but also because it was just so 'normal' for them to sit and talk while sipping expensive red wine.  "You sure you aren't trying to get me drunk again?" she asked over her shoulder as she fished around in one of the drawers. "What would Drusilla say?"

He answered the redhead's teasing with some of his own.  "Ooh, do I detect a hint of jealousy, Red?"  He took a seat at the white-tiled kitchen table while Willow fetched a couple of wineglasses.  If she liked this present, he couldn't wait to see her face when he gave her the other one later.

Willow was laughing as she set the glasses down next to the bottle of wine, then handed Spike a corkscrew.

"I'm sure you do detect some jealousy, Spike," she replied evenly.  "'Course, you should probably chalk that up to having a world-class ego and an over-active imagination," she added with a wink, taking a seat across from him.

"Nice try, Red," Spike retorted in an easy tone as he set about opening the bottle, "but we all know you are completely devastated because you can't have me."  He punctuated his conceited statement with the wet 'pop' of the cork.  *But*...before this dissolves into another one of our marathon discussions about absolutely sod all, let's get down to business, shall we?"  Spike handed her a full glass of wine then made himself comfortable by leaning the chair back on two legs and propping his ragged boots on the pristine table.  "We'll talk about your non-requited crush on me some other time."

Willow rolled her eyes at his familiar wit but decided that Spike was right about at least one thing.  They did have something important to talk about.  They could exchange witty commentary some other night.

She took a deep breath and then a draught of the fine wine, letting the Merlot's smooth, rich intensity warm her throughout.  Between the two, she felt ready to reveal all to Spike.

"Angel isn't in love with Buffy, nor she with him.  They aren't even dating, neither are Oz and I.  Apparently Angel and I are good friends...he's even had dinner over at my house, and I don't care what Angel says, pizza is still dinner and still cause for panic when it occurs with my parents...and Angel's so...*not* Angel.  He isn't very broody.  Sure, he gets kinda grumpy, but he's always making jokes and smiling and standing up straight...and he talks...I mean, *really* talks...can hardly shut him up sometimes...and supposedly it's all my fault because of what I said to him in the other night (well, not really the other night but you know what I mean) about how he can make amends and that he's needed...and there's a lot more to tell you but I think I need more wine first..."

After that marathon babble, Willow inelegantly gulped down the rest of the wine in her glass and then reached for the bottle to pour herself another before she even looked at Spike.

His hand was frozen in mid-air, glass poised at his lips.  "Bugger," he mumbled into the glass, then followed Willow's lead and downed the red liquid in one gulp before slamming the glass back on the tabletop.  Miraculously the delicate stem didn't break.  "I should have brought more bloody wine."

*****

An hour or so later, Willow was pretty sure that she'd managed to get Spike all caught up on the state of the new Scooby Gang.  Spike had remained silent for most of Willow's briefing, only asking a few clarifying questions here and there.

Spike was not amused, to say the least. While he'd anticipated his sire to be a little different, especially as far as his behavior towards Willow was concerned, he'd still expected Angel to fall 'poncy-gelled head over bow-legged heels' in love with The Slayer.  After all, they were supposed to be soulmates...linked for all time.  Just like he and Drusilla.

But this he hadn't expected.

"So...my sire has been waiting around for you, has he?  Laying the groundwork, so to speak," Spike asked through a sneer.

Willow frowned, shaking her head.  "No, I wouldn't put it that way.  He said he's simply been trying to live up to the trust I put in him."

Spike snorted, his eyes burning deadly holes in his glass that rested empty on the table.  "Right, just trying to be worthy of your pure and innocent love."

Willow felt the heat rising to her cheeks, but blamed it on the wine, hoping Spike would too.  "Uh-uh!  No, Spike...there's no love here," she said vehemently.  "No *plan* either."

Spike growled, the sound rumbling up from deep within him.  "Still so naive, Willow?  Have you not listened to a bloody thing I've taught you over the years?  He's been waiting for you...all this time.  Probably from the moment the wanker saw you in this timeline, he had an agenda."  Spike was on his feet now, pacing haphazardly between the fridge and the kitchen door as he reasoned through what Willow had told him.  Suddenly he stopped, turning to face a confused Willow.  "Crikey, Red!  I wouldn't be surprised if the bastard did everything possible to make sure you and the wolf didn't stand a chance!"

Willow jumped up and met the vampire in the middle of the room, shaking her head in denial the whole time.  After all, Spike was a little biased when it came to Angel.

"Spike, you're being paranoid," she gently scoffed at the agitated vampire.  She had to think for a moment, knowing that Spike couldn't be right, but wanting some proof that even he'd have to accept.  Then she remembered.   "There was no way Angel could have known about Oz and I," she informed him with relief.  "I never told Angelus, human or vampire.  Oh, unless you told him...or William?"

"Not likely, Pet," Spike said, his fears somewhat allayed by her revelation.  "As far as either of them were concerned, in the future you were going to be theirs, and I was quite happy to let the ignorant pillocks go on believing that."

"See?  It's just a coincidence, Spike," she affirmed.  "Besides, one of the reasons Oz and I never fell in love probably has a lot to do with the fact that he never had to save me from the Order of Taraka this time around."

Spike's face fell again, his chin dropping to his chest as he mumbled something Willow couldn't quite make out.

"What did you say?"

Shoulders drooping, Spike fessed up.  "Er, well, I may have told William to take it easy on you lot 'til I got back."  His sheepish tone turned more defensive when Willow's face tightened.  "Well, I couldn't have him accidentally getting you killed, or me for that matter, before the spell was complete, now could I?  For all I know, he never asked for the Order's help...or maybe he told them to piss off earlier than I did."

Willow tried to sound nonchalant because she didn't want Spike to blame himself.  "So you see, these relationships, or lack thereof, are just a result of our little adventure and your trying to protect us...not some underhanded scheme of Angel's."

Spike snorted, not only out of disbelief but because he simply didn't know what to say.  He felt for the redhead.  She'd waited a long time to be reunited with Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy, just as he had waited for Dru.  Only he'd gotten what he wanted and Willow hadn't.

Spike flinched inwardly.  There was that same odd sense of guilt again...the one that only Willow seemed to awaken in him.

"Well, no matter how or why it happened, it bloody-well bites, love," he told her in all sincerity.

Still not wanting to dampen Spike's happiness, Willow tried to shrug it off.  "It's okay, Spike.  Really.  Just because I'm not with Oz now, doesn't mean I can't be.  We just have to start over...same with Buffy and Angel.  It'll be okay."

But she was unable to hide her pain from Spike, and with a single finger under her chin, the vampire brought her face up until she looked him in the eye.  "Say that again...next time with feeling, Red," he said softly.

Willow smiled, grateful for his concern.  "If Oz and I are meant to be together, we will be, and I won't let a little thing like a century-long trip back in time get in the way."

Spike stepped back, away from her.  "Well, if there's anything I can do to help, love...like, say, kill Angel for you, just let me know."

"What is it with you two?" Willow groaned, thinking back to her last conversation with Angel about Spike.  "Every other word out of both of your mouths is about offing each other."

Spike's sarcastic demeanor softened, his eyes falling to the floor and then darting back at Willow again with boyish charm.  "He talks about me then?  This new-and-improved-in-the-worst-possible-way-version of Angel?"

Willow barely managed not to smile.  As hard as he tried to hide it, she knew Spike still felt something besides hate for his sire...especially this particular version of him.

"Nothing that you'd want engraved on a tombstone for all posterity, Spike.  But I think I'm winning him over, proving to him that you aren't all that bad."

Spike closed the small distance between them in one predatory step.  He leaned in closer, purposely letting his demonic façade take over, complete with yellow eyes, ridges, and sharpened teeth.  "But I *am* 'all that bad', Red," he said in a husky growl.

Familiar as she was with Spike's bravado, she still shivered in response to his behavior, which only made Spike lean in closer until his fangs hovered dangerously close to the pulse point in her throat.

"But not to me..." she whispered, forcing herself to stand still.  "After all, I'm neither a stomach-filler or a bed-warmer."

In the blink of an eye, Spike's more handsome human face was in place, and he'd stepped out of her personal space.

"Nobody's perfect, Pet," he said with a lewd grin, thoroughly pleased with himself for still being able to get to the redhead, both as a man and a demon.  "So, what else were the other you and the great poof up to before we got here?" he asked as he inspected the wine bottle, hoping for a few more drops but coming up empty.

Relieved by the change of topic, Willow had to think for a second before she replied.  "Um, I'm not sure.  I just know we were friends...talked a lot..."

"Really, that's all?"  He was a little surprised by this.  After all, from what Willow had said, it seemed to Spike like there was a lot more Angelus in this Angel, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing in theory, but he doubted that Angelus would have settled for being 'just good friends'.  "Shame you don't share any of this other you's memories, ay?  Be interesting to know how things *really* were between you two.  Not to mention how he and old William got along post-souling," he added, more to himself.

Willow leaned back against the counter as Spike took a seat atop the kitchen table.  "Sorry.  No memory sharing here.  I take it you don't have any of William's memories either?"

"Not a bloody one.  Wish I did though.  Make things easier with Dru..."

"Does she know about what you did for her?  Or about Angelus?  Does she know about any of it?"

"From what I can tell, she knows quite a bit about what I did for her, and about all the Spike switching that went on when the spell ended.  She's aware that I went back in time and changed the world just for her.  I think that appeals to her romantic-girlie nature since that's all that seems to matter to Dru right now."  Willow noticed a far-off look on the vampire's pale face...he looked truly content.  "Like I said, she practically worships the ground I walk on, Red.  And for a bonus, she doesn't seem to know that I had a hand in giving Angelus his soul.  Don't think William ever found out either, which is probably a good thing.  So it looks like this new talking version of Angel kept his mouth shut as far as that goes, thank the bloody lord."

"You know, I don't think he really understood why he was cursed until now, Spike," Willow theorized out loud.  "Maybe Angel had always thought that you had him cursed only to save me.  I don't think he had any idea about how deeply your hate for him ran until I explained why we really went back in time."

Spike's jaw tightened.  "But he knows now?"  Willow nodded.  "Good," was all Spike could think to say.

"But he still doesn't know *why* you hate him so much, Spike.  He knows you cast the spell in order to save Drusilla and to kill him, but he doesn't really understand why."

Spike chuckled, his eyes glimmering with amber.  He liked the idea of Angel possibly losing sleep, wondering why his childe would betray him in such a way.

Willow sighed.  There was still so much that she didn't know, too.  Despite all of their long talks, she and Angel had avoided many of the more difficult topics--like their relationship in Galway when he was human and the feelings that they'd shared.  Also, they had barely scratched the surface of what had happened between Rose and the vampire Angelus, but that was dangerous territory and she wasn't really in a hurry to broach that particular topic.  Willow also wanted to know exactly how he'd found her in Romania, what had happened to his family, where he'd been the last 100 years, where all his money came from...so many questions that she couldn't bring herself to ask outright.

Willow's mental discourse ended when she happened to notice the strange, almost caustic look on the blond vampire's face.  He was staring at her, none-too-pleased with whatever it was that he saw.

"Spike, what is it?" she asked softly, and soon Willow had to force herself not to look away as his vampiric countenance surged forward once again, only this time he wasn't simply teasing her.  Something had undermined his usual control.  "Um, Spike?" she repeated as he stalked nearer, a low snarl coming from the back of his throat.

Stopping directly in front of her, Spike snaked out a hand, his finger tracing her collarbone.  Willow was tempted to slap his hand away, especially when it dipped lower, beneath the collar of her shirt, but she contained herself.

Languidly, Spike's finger traveled lower, until it looped about the silver links.  Spike hoped he was wrong about what he'd find at the end of the chain.  Just moments before, he'd been about to comment on Willow's "Mr. Peabody and Sherman" shirt, when he noticed her absentmindedly toying with something beneath it.  Since he'd witnessed her fiddling with the cross many times in the past, he knew almost instantly what it was.

Still hoping he was wrong and instead of simply pulling the chain and its burden out from its hiding place, Spike took a step back, taking the silver links with him until Willow's cross was fully revealed.

Spike's human face came to the forefront but his jaw was tightly clenched, his eyes cold.  "So, I see you found your little bauble," he sneered, finally looking Willow in the eye.  "Let me guess...the local burger joint is giving out crosses in its kiddy meals these days?"

Willow's eyes narrowed, but not from anger, simply out of confusion.  "Box of crackerjacks, actually."

Spike let the chain go, the cross dropping back against her chest.  "The bleedin' poofter had it all this time, didn't he?  A century ago he rips the bloody thing from your neck so he could make a little more room for his fangs, and now, with halo hovering above his enormous, mousse-encrusted head, he presents it back to you, with girlie flourish, no doubt, *and* you actually accept it!"  His voice was like ice and it sent a chill racing down her spine.

Willow had completely forgotten she was wearing the necklace, and without being aware of her actions, Willow began playing with the cross again.  It had become another one of her many nervous habits.  Although Spike hadn't really scared her, his rather strong reaction to the cross was surprising.  It'd never really bothered him before...heck, he'd insisted that she wear it whenever she ventured out at night.  She didn't understand.

"Well, it is mine, after all," she offered, lamely.

"No harm, no foul...is that how it is, Pet?"  Spike stepped away and sat back on the table, trying to regain is composure.  Shaking his head wryly, he patted his pockets until he found his fags.  Taking one out, he stuck it his mouth while he silently fished for his lighter.

With a sigh, Willow went to him, plucking the cigarette from his lips before he could light it.  "Sorry, Spike...no smoking in my parents' house.  We have to obey the rules now," she teased, trying to lighten the mood so she could get to the bottom of what was really bothering him.

Spike cursed, but shoved the packet back into his pocket.

"Thank you. Now, why don't you tell me what's really wrong?"

Spike ran his fingers through his cropped blond hair, as if trying to comb his thoughts into order.  Bloody hell, he wasn't completely sure why the thought of Angel waiting for Willow made his borrowed-blood boil, but it did.  The whole thing smacked of a setup to him.  It was something *Angelus* would do...

"Don't you see, Pet?  He was planning this all along.  Everything.  The cross just proves it!"

"Spike, we've already discussed this," she reminded him crossly.

"God, it just sickens me, is all!" he spat angrily.  "I can picture the damned pillock, lying awake all day, your image in his head, one hand caressing your cross, the other pumping his--"

"Spike!" Willow admonished, red faced, before he could finish.  "That's just...wrong, so very, very wrong...not to mention the fact that he can't really caress the, um, cross without burning his hand to a crisp."

Seeing that he could still make the redhead blush, Spike relaxed enough to shrug.  "So, he's a masochist, too.  Doesn't change the fact that he's been manipulating your life, Willow.  Just like Angelus tried to do..."

Willow thought that perhaps this wasn't the best time to remind a certain blond vampire that he'd done more than his fair share of manipulating, and not only her life but others' as well.  "Angelus?" she repeated instead.  "Spike, he's *not* Angelus.  True, he's not exactly Angel either, but he has a soul...I can see it; I can feel it even."

"Soul does not equal angel, if you catch my drift, sweets.  Everyone enjoys a little revenge, now and then."

Willow lowered her head in resignation.  Trying to talk to Spike about Angel or Angelus hadn't gotten any easier just because they were back in Sunnydale.

It was time for a change of topics.

"Maybe now is a good time for that other present you promised me?"  Willow suggested, looking up at the scowling vampire and flashing him her most innocent smile.

Spike's frown dissipated.  "It's just outside your kitchen door, love."

Willow raised an eyebrow.  "Why the secrecy?"

He shrugged.  "Wanted it to be a surprise...timing's everything, you know."

Willow laughed as she headed for the kitchen door.  "So they tell me, but good timing doesn't seem to be one of my natural character traits."

A little nervous as to what her reaction would be, Spike watched through hopeful eyes as she flipped on the outside light, unlocked and slowly opened the door and peeked through.  Not seeing anything right away, she shot Spike a questioning glance.  He bit his bottom lip and gestured for her to keep looking.

Then she saw it, leaning against the wall by the side of the door.

A guitar case.

For a moment, Willow didn't move.  She simply stood there, staring at the black leather case.

"Spike...it's...I can't believe..."  Words failed her as she finally bent down and picked up the guitar.

He noted with some pleasure that Willow's hands were trembling when she gingerly brought the still-closed case inside.  The rapturous look on her face snuffed out the last glowing embers of Spike's Angel-anger.

"If you like the bloody case that much, can't wait to see your face when you open it," he said as she reverently set it down on the table.

With one last awed look at the expectant vampire, Willow undid the latches and lifted the lid.  Resting nestled in the blood-red satin lining was easily the most beautiful acoustic guitar that she had ever set eyes on.  She discerned instantly that it was new for the frets showed no sign of wear, nor was there a single fingerprint let alone dull spot in the lacquer that protected the gorgeous golden-hued wood of its face.  Carefully, as if it were a newborn baby, Willow eased it from its cradle, a soft hiss of breath as she ran her fingers lovingly over its rich patina, letting Spike know that she approved. The obviously-handmade instrument was fashioned of mahogany with a spruce top, and had in intricate rosewood inlay surrounding the sound hole.  On its neck, mother of pearl finger dots sparkled in sharp contrast to the ebony fret board.

Although she was far from an expert, she found it to be simply stunning, making her father's look like a toy.

"Spike, it's...beautiful..."  Her eyes were still glued to her new guitar.  Then suspecting why Spike had given her such an extraordinary gift, she looked up at him, her eyes shining.

"You didn't have to do this, you know.  I forgave you for that long ago."

"Yes I did, Red.  I know it can't replace the one I destroyed, that was handmade especially for you, but I thought you might miss playing...didn't know if you already had one--"

"Spike..."

"'Course, I know most musicians like to pick out their own, so if you don't like this one...if it's too big or not the right sound, we'll get you another one...together."

"Spike, it's perfect."

The vampire grinned, pleased and relieved that she liked his present.  "But you haven't even played it yet.  I strummed it a bit myself...Had to sample the goods just a bit, you know, and it sounded so bloody rich I almost wanted to keep it."  He ran an appreciate finger down its mahogany neck.  "Try it out, Red.  Let's see if it fits."

Willow took a moment to familiarize herself with the instrument first.  Not surprisingly, guitars had changed a bit since she'd last held one back in Romania, but nothing major, she was happy to realize.  Mainly changes in shape and construction, from what she could tell.  All in all, it felt right in her hands.  Even the nylon strings didn't dissuade her, though she was used to the feel of catgut beneath her fingertips.  Finally ready, she shot Spike a nervous smile, then took a deep breath and strummed one simple chord...

...heavenly...

Willow wasn't disappointed.  Spike was right...it had a rich, melodic sound, not too bold or bright for the kind of music she preferred to play.  After a few more chords, she tried some finger-style playing, and while the nylon strings would take some getting used to, she was delighted.

It truly was perfect, and it fit against her body like it were made for her.

"I-I was going to go buy one as soon as I could but nothing nearly as gorgeous as this one," she sniffed over a few chords, trying not to cry at Spike's incredibly thoughtful gesture.  Then a thought occurred to her and she glanced sheepishly at the vampire.  "Spike, you didn't...you know..." She made a comical biting face, "...someone to get this, did you?"

Spike laughed.  He knew she'd ask him that sooner or later.  "And go to all that trouble just to have you refuse it?  Of course not, Red. I know you better than that by now.  Bought and paid for with actual money."

"It looks expensive, how did you--"

"I know a demon who knows a guy...buys and sells antiques in LA.  I wanted something from the same era as your others, but he didn't have anything suitable.  Still, he knew a guy who knew a demon who makes them, and well...here ya go."

"Made by a demon, eh?" Willow smirked at the idea.  "Seems rather fitting, doesn't it?  But Spike...you shouldn't spend so much on me..."

"Oh piffle," he replied lightly.  "Besides, William made quite a few worthwhile investments over the years.  Guess he must have heeded some bloody good financial advice somewhere along the way..."

Willow's jaw dropped, and Spike winked at her.  "A football match here, some horse races there...who knows, he may have even gotten a few hot stock tips...plastics, computers, some little thing called 'the information super highway'...."

Willow could only blink at him, still somewhat shocked.  Never once had he mentioned this before.  "You told William what to gamble on?"

Spike shrugged nonchalantly, but couldn't keep from breaking into a boastful grin.  "Just a few key things I could remember.  Nothing too suspicious, didn't want to attract any unwanted attention, after all."

"So now you have a little money saved away?" she questioned him further.

"You could say that, love.  Actually, Willow, you are in the presence of rather wealthy man...er, or demon.  That mansion we're staying in?  I own it," he informed her as casually as could be.  Willow's jaw dropped yet again.  "Yep," he continued, quite enjoying Willow's reaction, "no more slumming for Dru and me  First class all the way now...electricity, cable TV, furniture...Never again will we have to hole up in some abandoned factory or hide in the sewers."

Willow finally pulled herself together, knowing she should have suspected something like this from Spike.

"I-I'm happy for you, Spike.  I'm happy that you're happy...." she told him rather awkwardly.

"But do you like it, Red?"  The guitar, I mean."

Willow sighed.  She couldn't begrudge Spike anything, it seemed--money, happiness, Dru....

"Do I like it?" she repeated with a shining smile that even on its own could have answered Spike's question.  "Do vampires like blood?  Do *I* like chocolate?"  Willow leaned over and kissed the vampire on the cheek before hugging him as best she could with the guitar still in hand. "You never cease to surprise me, Spike.  Thank you."

But Spike being Spike, couldn't let the sweet moment be...he had to put his special 'spin' on it.

"And what kind of thanks is that, I ask you," he said with mock severity as she pulled out of his arms.

"Why? What did you have in mind?" she asked, playing along.

"Oh, I'd settle for your first born, or a few sips of your blood, or perhaps your virginity...You know, the usual way one thanks a demon."

Willow laughed, seeing the devilish glint to his eyes.  Same old Spike.  "How about my *undying* gratitude, as usual, Spike?" she quipped, turning to put the guitar away.

Occupied with the case, Willow didn't notice how Spike's face suddenly fell at her words.  He immediately hopped down from the table and took out his pack of cigarettes again.  "Better get back to Drusilla," he said coolly, sliding a slightly crumpled cigarette out of the pack.

"Can't convince you to stay?" she asked while snapping closed the latches.  "I'll let you beat me at poker..."

"Some other time, Red," Spike suggested, his voice tightly controlled.  "Dru and I have some plans."

Unaware of Spike's change in mood, Willow sighed in an overly-dramatic fashion as she turned back to face him, the guitar safely put away for the time being.  "Well, since you did change the course of history for Drusilla, I guess it's only fair that you actually spend some time with her."

Willow led him toward the front door to show him out.

"There's that jealousy again, Willow," Spike said, forcing himself to sound more lighthearted as they stepped out onto the front porch.  "You had really better learn to live without me...somehow...I know it'll be hard, but try to cope, love."  Spike flinched at his own words, and suddenly he was in a hurry to get away from the redhead.  Willow made that easy by playfully pushing him down the porch steps.

"Not if you keep talking like that, it won't," she laughed.

Standing at the bottom of her steps, Spike finally lit his cigarette.  He took a long drag, then slowly exhaled, the smoke passing between lips curved in a melancholy smile.  "See you soon, Red."

"Night, Spike," she responded with a wave, then leaned against the porch pillar and watched him walk away.  "Oh, and stay away from Buffy and Angel...it would be a shame to get a stake puncture in that great coat of yours!" she called after him.

Spike turned but continued walking, backwards, as he shouted in reply, "You know me, Red!"  Then with a final wave, the vampire turned back around.  Willow watched him for a moment longer.  When the glowing end of his cigarette began to fade in the distance, she finally went back into the house.

*****

<Undying gratitude, as usual>

As Spike stalked away from Willow's home, he found her words, her voice, echoing painfully in his head, over and over again.

<Undying gratitude, as usual>

There was nothing *usual* about it, Spike had suddenly realized.  After all, they were 'home' now, which meant the spell was over.

The spell, with *all* of its side effects, was over.

For the days, years, decades even, of Willow's living without appearing to age a single day had ended with their arrival in the 20th century.  Willow was mortal again.  She'd could be hurt or grow ill...she could age and die.

She *would* age and die.

And he wouldn't.

While it was obvious--something that should have been red flagged in his mind the whole time they were gone--he'd gotten very good at burying those thoughts down deep within him.  This had been especially true during the last ten years that they'd spent together, when they'd grown closer than he ever thought two people could be who didn't share their bodies.  He hadn't allowed himself to see the end coming.

Taking a long, mournful drag on the now-stubby cigarette as he continued down Willow's street, Spike idly wondered if Willow thought about it much.  Did she fear her renewed mortality or was she actually looking forward to outwardly maturing, eventually being treated like the woman that she was, instead of like the child that she appeared to be?

She'd often told him that one of the perks of their experience back in time was that she hadn't always been treated like a child, for in those centuries, a woman of 17 was just that...a woman.

With a sour grunt, Spike dropped the dying butt, viciously grinding it beneath his Doc Martens.  "Looks like you'll be getting what you wanted soon enough, Red," he said with regret, watching the final ember blink out of existence on the sidewalk.  Too soon he'd have to watch the same thing happen to Willow.  The end, even if she was lucky enough to live to a ripe old age, would rush towards them with dizzying speed until she was gone forever.

Spike didn't want to think about Willow being gone, let alone forever.

It wasn't fair.  After all, now that he had Drusilla back, these should be the happiest days of his unlife.

"Why are you still here?"  The familiar deep voice brought Spike out of his morbid thoughts but did little to improve his frame of mind.

"And why am I not bleedin' surprised to find you on Willow's street in the middle of the night, you great manipulative poof?" he snarled at his sire without bothering to turn to face him.  He was *not* in the mood for an Angel-lecture right now.

Angel had been making the rounds, and, as always, Willow's street was patrolled several times throughout.  Angel had been surprised to spot them talking on her front porch, Willow smiling as she waved goodbye, and Spike's joking response to her warning to be careful.

Even from a safe distance away, he could see how comfortable they were with one another, and it made Angel ache.  It all seemed horribly familiar, like some cruel joke as history began to repeat.  Sometimes it seemed like only yesterday that he'd watched Rose and the then mysterious 'husband' through the windows in Galway, similar pangs of jealousy making his fists clench and every muscle in his body tighten.

Not only did their truly easy relationship surprise Angel, but he'd also been caught off guard by Spike's being there at all.  Angel had counted on his 'childe's' usual penchant for sleeping in, which should have made his visitation much later.  Angel had planned on staking out her house, just in case Spike had decided to call on her.  But he was too late, and yet Willow seemed fine.  Happy even.

Spike, on the other hand, didn't look particularly happy.  And while Angel vaguely wondered what could have happened at Willow's house to upset Spike, the darker vampire couldn't seem to make himself care.  He wanted Spike gone.

Standing in the middle of Willow's street, about a block away from her house, he repeated the question.  "Why are you still here?"

Ignoring the dark vampire once again and still refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking at him, Spike stared back over his shoulder toward Willow's house.  "Why don't you sod off and leave her alone?  Haven't you already bored Red enough for several lifetimes?"

Angel smirked at Spike's stubbornness, breaking the stalemate by taking a single long stride toward the blond vampire, who then finally turned to look at him.  "After being stuck with you for so long, *Willow* probably enjoys having an intelligent conversation once in a while."

"If by intelligent you mean exhausting, confusing, and downright painful to her, you may be right," Spike snapped back.  While his retort had succeeded in dissolving Angel's annoying smirk, Spike was still irritated with himself for letting his 'sire' get to him so easily.

"You got what you wanted, Spike," Angel said, taking a few lazy steps closer, his eyes narrowing in on Spike's.  "You have your precious Drusilla, so do everyone a favor, yourself included, and get the hell out of town and out of Willow's life for good."

"Has all that nancy-boy hair gel mucked up your hearing?" he chuckled, unconsciously standing straighter as the other vampire neared.  "Like I said last night, *I'm* wanted here.  Willow needs me, wants me around."  His grin was equal parts boastful and sadistic by now.  "She likes *me* and my company.  How many times has Red said that to you since she's been back, ay Angel?  How many times has she hugged *you*, going on and on about how glad she is to see you?"

Angel took the final steps that brought him directly in front of Spike.  To Spike's dismay, a wry smile formed on the darker vampire's face, but Spike's cockiness didn't waver one little bit.

Angel leaned even closer, his brown eyes diving deeply into Spike's icy blue pools.  "Got a little secret for you, Spike.  You may want to pay attention."

Spike met Angel's searing look head on, the slight narrowing of his eyes the only indication that Angel had truly piqued his curiosity.

"Willow doesn't love you, Spike."

There was a single moment of utter silence between them, and then Spike threw his head back and howled with laughter, which was not quite the reaction Angel had expected.  When he was able to control his laughter, Spike pretended to wipe tears from his eyes, sniffing a few times for added dramatic effect.

"Is that it, mate?  Is that your big secret?" Spike was still grinning from ear-to-ear as he took out his cigarettes.  "I have to tell you, Angel," he said matter of factly, cigarette dangling from his lips as he spoke.  "I'm a bit disappointed.  Thought you'd be more on the ball this time around."  Spike paused to light his cigarette and take a long drag.  He then blew the smoke directly in Angel's face, but the Irish vampire didn't twitch a muscle.  "Maybe not," Spike finally continued.  Now it was his turn to lean in, as if about to reveal something juicy.  "But the good bit is...and I want *you* to listen closely this time, Angel..."  Spike paused, long enough to see Angel's jaw tighten in anticipation, "She doesn't love *you* either."

Eager for a reaction, Spike studied Angel for any sign of weakness.

And there it was....  In the impossibly dark depths of Angel's eyes, Spike saw the flash of pain his words had inflicted.  Just like Willow had said, Angel's eyes truly were the windows to his soul, and through them, Spike watched with dark glee as his words sliced through Angel's soul like a thousand tiny knives, drawing more than blood in their wake.

Spike wanted to crow in victory.  Not only had he hurt the other vampire, but he'd found his true weakness.  No longer was he afraid that Angel had some darker plan in mind for his Willow.  It was so much simpler than that.  Somewhere along the line, the *vampire* had actually fallen in love with her.  He wasn't simply obsessed with Rose or making up for the horrid deeds of his past, he was truly in love with the redhead.

<Bloody hell...this is going to be fun...>

Spike couldn't wait to dig those knives in a little deeper.  "You know, my plan all along was simply to kill you, Angelus," Spike joyfully informed him.  "Bloody hell...that was the whole point of our little trip down memory lane--"

"But you couldn't do it," Angel reminded him, the pain in his eyes only growing easier for Spike to read.

"No, I didn't, did I?" Spike continued, thoroughly enjoying himself.  "And why not?  Because of Willow..."

"*Drusilla*, you mean," Angel scoffed in return.  He knew the other vampire was just trying to get under his skin now, and yet he couldn't bring himself to walk away and end the torture.

Spike shrugged.  "Both, actually.  But I must say that I'm glad I didn't kill you, Angelus."

Angel didn't buy it for a second.  "Oh, really?"

A slow smile of gloating enveloped Spike's face.  "I truly am, because...if I had killed you, Angelus, I never would have had the pleasure of watching you suffer...."

Angel tilted his head as he stared down at Spike.  "Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, Spike, but I'm far from suffering."

"Really?" he laughed, loving the challenge.  "Let's test your little theory again, shall we?"  Spike pursed his lips for a moment, wanting to savor what was about to come.  "Willow...doesn't...love...you..." he repeated slowly and distinctly, punctuating each word with as much spite as he could muster.  But there was more.  "And she *never* will, *Angelus*."

Angel's only outward reaction was to close his eyes as Spike spoke, but inwardly he was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions...pain, jealousy, anger, hate, regret, longing.  Again, history seemed to be repeating, time folding in on itself, but Angel refused to show such weakness to the vampire that had betrayed him.  And Spike wasn't through yet.

"Does she still flinch when you look at her, Angelus?  Does she still avoid your eyes, and tense up whenever you come in the room, as if she's fighting her instincts to run as far away from you as possible?"  Spike leaned in to whisper his dark words of torment directly into his sire's ear.  "Does she shudder when you touch her...when you say her name?  Can you still see the fresh horror and pain in her eyes from when you tried to kill her, or worse, in the woods not three days ago?"

Angel had to swallow the temptation to throw Spike down and drive a stake through this undead heart, ending his existence and Angel's torment.  At the same time, he was fighting a nearly overwhelming desire to sink to his knees in despair.  Because Spike was right...everything he had just said was right.

Between long draws of his cigarette, Spike's torture continued.  "She doesn't love you, Angelus."  He dug even deeper, wishing that Angel would open his eyes so that he could revel in the anguish and misery he was obviously causing.  "And she *never* will.  I mean, how could she ever really forgive you, Angelus?  Oh, she'll try...she'll say the words."  He chuckled, shaking his head.  "Bloody hell...knowing her, she's already assured you that there's no hard feelings, that she understands that you're 'different now'..." Spike spat the words out.  "She may even *want* to forgive you, in time, but in her dreams, her nightmares...in her *heart*, she will *always* think of you as the vampire that you were, Angelus...."

This time, Angel couldn't control his reactions, his face contorting into the mask of pain that Spike had been longing to see.  Angel staggered back, away from the sound of Spike's voice, and still Spike wouldn't let up.

He clucked his tongue a few times, saying, "*And* you've waited how long for her, only to find that she's madly in love with the wolf?"  Spike let out a purposeful sigh.  "'Course, she told me all about what happened.  Poured her heart out about how she and the boy aren't involved in this timeline."  Spike shook his head sadly.  "So, how ever did you manage that, Angelus?  How did you come between Willow and her one true love?"  While Spike didn't actually believe that the wolf was Willow's one true love, he spread it on thick, wanting to really take advantage of the pain he'd already caused his sire.

Angel's eyes flew open, fixing immediately on Spike's.  "I did nothing," he answered in a hoarse whisper.

Spike smirked, taking another puff.  "Sure, mate.  Whatever you say," he said in a dismissive tone.  Thinking he'd given the vampire enough to brood over for one night, Spike turned as if to leave.  And yet he couldn't resist one more dig.

"Pretty pathetic if you ask me..."

"Which I didn't."

"Waiting around a hundred years for a woman that doesn't even want you...never did, really..."

"Almost as pathetic as going back in time to try and win her back," Angel retorted, a little anger breaking through his despair.

Spike didn't even flinch.  "Ah, but which of us will be holding someone when we go to bed, and which of us will only be holding himself?  But then, you're probably used to that by now...Unlike me, that is," he ended with a lascivious grin, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

"You disgust me, Spike."

<Like father, like son> he responded, but only in his head.  He'd save that fun-filled discussion for their next encounter.

"Let me give you one more piece of advice, Angel."

"You know what you can do with your advice, Spike."

"Trust me...you'll want to hear this one."

Angel didn't respond, but he didn't' walk away, either.  He wouldn't give Spike the satisfaction.

"Go back to the Slayer, Angel," Spike advised in all seriousness.  "Willow is way out of your league."

With a final smirk, Spike dropped his cigarette, and walked away, not bothering to grind out the smoldering stub and leaving Angel alone with his thoughts and his pain.

*****

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Willow decided it was about time that she and her new guitar became better acquainted.  After an hour of losing herself in the instrument, Willow reluctantly stopped playing.  Although she was feeling more like herself again, not only were her fingers not used to the nylon strings quite yet, she also thought that it was about time she revived another of her hobbies from 'the old days'.  And considering all the new information she had swimming around in her brain, it seemed like the perfect night to start a new journal.

After putting her guitar away, Willow went to her desk and dug out a pen and an old notebook.  It wasn't quite as elegant as the old leather-covered journals she used to pour her heart out into, but she certainly didn't mind using a brand new Bic.

"Hold on..." she mumbled to herself, the tip of the pen already in her mouth.  "I used to keep a diary around here somewhere...might as well use that."  Willow had to think for a minute before remembering that she used to keep the baby-blue book under her mattress.

Which is exactly where she found it.

Getting comfortable on her bed, propped up by several pillows, Willow opened her 'childhood' diary, ready to add a new chapter to her life, when she finally realized what she held in her hand.

Her diary.

Not *her* diary, but the other Willow's diary.

"Bloody hell..." Willow said aloud.  "I might not have her memories, but I hold in my hand the next best thing..."

Glancing at the date on the first page, Willow was relieved to find that it began during the summer before Buffy's arrival.

Perfect.  Hopefully, she wouldn't have to go digging through her closet for wherever she'd hid the earlier ones.

Her plans to record her own thoughts completely forgotten, Willow began to read about a girl named Willow....

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