< > indicate thoughts and/or feelings
 

~Chapter One~

Willow sat in the library, staring at the computer screen but not really paying attention to the information it displayed. She was supposed to be doing some research, as usual, and trying to find anything that may hint as to the whereabouts of either Buffy or Angel. Instead she was doing mental battle with herself, embarrassment tinged with shame versus her conscience. Not a fair fight really, but her embarrassment had managed to prolong its inevitable loss by several days.

Willow sighed, not that Giles noticed, and he was the only other person there. Xander was late, as usual, Oz was on his family's annual vacation to Tahoe, and Cordelia had an appointment at the salon. So for now, it was just Willow and Giles. <I might as well get this over with before Xander gets here.>

"I wish Buffy would hurry up and come back," Willow said out loud. "I'm afraid I haven't quite got the hang of this slaying thing yet."

Giles looked up from where he was standing reading a dog-eared volume of demonology. "I think you are doing exceptionally well, Willow. Considering you're not an actual slayer and all. Why? What makes you say that?"

Willow chewed on her lower lip, trying to decide the best way to tell the Watcher. Finally, she suddenly blurted out "I'm sorry Giles. I know I should have told you this earlier, but I didn't want you to be disappointed in me, because of Buffy and everything . . ."

"Willow?" Giles interrupted her confused attempt at a confession and sat in the chair across from her. "Tell me what?"

"Tell *who* what?" Xander chimed in as he strolled through the swinging doors of the library. "What did I miss?"

"Well, one night last week," Willow began sheepishly. "When I was on patrol, I dropped by the old mansion, where you know, all the vortex hell-suckage stuff happened. Because I keep hoping that maybe Buffy or Angel might show up there, and. . . ."

"You saw Buffy?" Xander demanded. "Where is she?"

"No, Xander, not Buffy. Will you please let me finish?"

When Xander nodded disappointedly, she continued, "No, I saw, um, Spike."

"Spike? Really?" Giles said matter-of-factly. "How interesting-- all my sources claimed he had left town with Drusilla after. . ." Giles' tone quickly changed when he finally realized what she had done. "Wait a moment, you mean you went there alone?"

"Well, kinda. I mean-- *yes*, I did." Willow replied, staring at the table.

"I don't think that was a very good idea Willow. You never know who may show up there." Then remembering that someone had already shown up, and it was the original point of the conversation, Giles quickly stammered on. "Like Spike, for instance."

"Yeah Will, what if Angel had been there?"

Willow's eyes met Xander's. "Angel? That would be a, a good thing-- you know, Angel and Buffy and all."

Xander was practically screaming inside. <Why is everyone always so worried about Angel? I will be damn glad if I never see that pasty-faced vampire again. *Damn glad!*> "Obviously your idea of a good thing is a little different from mine. Remember," Xander lectured. "Angel, plus no soul, equals *bad* thing, Willow."

"Xander is right," Giles said with concern, then recognizing who he had agreed with, he quickly added "for a change. We have no way of knowing if you were successful in restoring his soul."

Willow jumped up, frustrated. "Giles. Xander. I *know* it worked. Not *know* like I have actual proof *know*, but I felt it." She was tired of trying to convince them that her second attempt at soul restoration was a success, and she had long given up on trying to convince Xander that their Angel could not be held responsible for the demon's actions.

She was pacing the floor now, annoyed with the constant interruptions. <Just let me finish before I change my mind.> "May I finish?" Willow stopped pacing long enough to send Giles a pleading look. "Spike, remember?"

She took their distracted grunts as permission and continued. "Anyway, I snuck in trying to be 'stealth-girl', just in case, and to make a long story short, there was Spike, very drunk, and about to kill himself." Willow added quickly, "But I stopped him."

"You what?" Giles and Xander shrieked in unison.

Xander quickly strolled over to Willow and puts his hands on her shoulders, peering intently at her. "Willow, please tell me that you mean you *stopped* him from wasting good beer or from doing a very bad Billy Idol impersonation. But *please* don't tell me that you stopped him from dusting himself, thereby losing our chance to rid the world of "Mr. 'ello love, aren't I irresistible because of my bloody accent even though I'm a blood sucking pale-faced twit?" <He tried his best British accent for the last part, with moderate success.> "Ya know, I bet he isn't even really British. He's probably from Cleveland!"

"A slight case of accent-envy Xander?" Willow asked softly, not able to look him straight in the face.

Xander let her go, sighing, "Why Willow?"

Willow felt tears of guilt welling up inside her. "I don't know. He, uh, he just looked so sad, like a lost puppy, and you know how I feel about puppies. And he was crying. Before I realized what I was doing, and before he even knew that I was there, I had grabbed the stake out of his hand."

"Please continue Willow," Giles said calmly. "Don't leave anything out this time."

Willow took a deep breath and told them in detail how shocked Spike had looked when she had intervened, yet still incredibly sad. In his drunken state, first he laughed uncontrollably and then rambled on for several minutes about how Dru had killed herself shortly after they had left Sunnydale. Her shaky mental status wasn't able to take losing Angel again, nor could she forgive Spike for the role he played in Angel's demise. He finally finished by saying he couldn't be without her.

"So, I having nothing left and want to end this. Your act of kindness is wasted on me love." His words were slurred but deadly serious. "Now, do us both a favor and drive that stake into my heart," he said.

"Then he just stood there," Willow recollected. "With his eyes closed. Waiting."

She couldn't do it. "Uh, Spike?"

His eyes sprung open, impatience beginning to show. "*What* is it?"

"I don't think I can, unless, it's like self-defense, or something."

Willow told them how he laughed at that, hard. <For a suicidal vampire, he sure laughs a lot.> "Let me get this straight," he said. "Are you asking me to try to kill you, so that you can then kill me, which is all I bloody-well want in the first place?"

Willow just bit her lower lip and nodded.

"Fine pet, if that is what it will take to get you to finish this." Spike let out a low growl and started staggering toward Willow, his hands raised in front of his face with fingers bent in what Willow could only assume was an attempt to look menacing.

Willow had to suppress a giggle at his stereotypical vampire approach. <All he needs is a cape.>

But before he had taken three steps, he tripped over his own feet and landed flat on his back.

"He passed out, and I left," Willow finished hurriedly, hoping that they couldn't tell she was lying.

"So, that's it Willow?" Giles asked, cleaning his glasses for the third time. When she nodded yes, he continued, "Well, that wasn't so bad. I can see no reason why you were reluctant to tell me about that. Killing doesn't come naturally to most people Willow. Even when the intended victim is already, in a manner of speaking, dead."

"Why do I have a feeling we are all going to regret this?" Xander whined, sitting down and purposely banging his head on the table. "Ow . . . table . . . head . . . pain!"

"I am really sorry," Willow sighed, slipping back into her vacant chair.

Giles put his glasses back on and looked at Willow. It was so unfair for her to have to feel guilty for just being herself, a caring person. <Hurry back Buffy. Trying to ease her guilt a little, Giles patted Willow's hand.> "Don't worry Willow. I doubt any direct harm will come of this. But, for future reference, it might pay for you to put a little less, uh . . . compassion into your slaying, if possible."

"Okay Giles, I'll try," Willow said sadly.

~~~~~

Later that night, after she had spoken to Oz long distance for over an hour, Willow wondered about the sudden strong urge she had felt to lie at the library earlier that day. At the time, alarm bells were going off in her head, warning her not to tell the complete truth. She remembered with a sense of foreboding the words she had said to Spike before he lost consciousness.

In actuality, Spike had looked up from the floor where he had landed, to find Willow standing over him, with an almost mother-like look of concern. "Spike, I am not going to stake you. Drusilla is gone, and unless you can change the past or bring her back from the dead, or uh, undead, you will just have to learn to deal. <Oh my God! Why did I say that, he probably *can* bring her back from the dead.>

Spike had drifted off then, and Willow hoped that he hadn't even heard her, or better yet that he wouldn't remember the whole encounter. She had no idea that before Spike fell into a deep drunken sleep, one coherent thought suddenly rang in his mind. <Of course, why the hell didn't I think of that before!>
 

~Chapter Two~

"It looks pretty dead tonight, Will." Xander was sitting on a tombstone, absentmindedly flipping his stake in the air. "I think we can call it a night."

Willow didn't answer immediately as she peered into the darkness of the cemetery.

Xander continued, "We have been here over two hours and nada, zero, zilch, bupkiss, slayers two bloodsuckers zero. . ."

"Okay Xander, I get the idea." Willow chuckled then turned one last time to look deep into the graveyard, watching for any signs of movement. "Alright, let's go home."

Suddenly Willow heard a thud, and spun around just in time to see Xander fall to the ground. Spike was standing over him with a large rock in his hand. "Going so soon love?" he leered at her, not moving. "But the night is so young, and I have something very special planned for us."

Willow raised her ever-present stake even higher "Get away from him Spike," Willow warned, her voice shaking. "I will dust you if you hurt him."

"Uh, it's a little late for that now Red, isn't it? Don't worry, this pathetic excuse for a man is still alive." Spike paused, poking Xander with his boot. "I think."

"But if you want him to stay that way, you better drop all your little slayer toys and cooperate."

"Right, so you can kill both of us . . . or . . . or vamp us."

"Listen love, as appealing as that sounds I have other plans. I promise I won't kill or change either of you if you drop all your weapons, and come with me *now*. Otherwise," Spike continued, "I am going to smash his bloody head in with this rock, see?"

Willow's eyes flicked nervously between Spike and Xander's still form until Spike lifted the rock higher above Xander's face.

"Stop!" Willow pleaded, throwing her stakes and crosses on the ground. "Okay Spike. What now?" she asked, the resignation obvious in her voice.

"Ah, pet," he smiled as he tossed the rock away and hoisted Xander over his shoulder. "Patience."

Willow followed Spike back to the mansion, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation, but coming up empty. <I can't leave him, and I am not strong enough to carry him. What would Buffy do?>

Xander hadn't moved, and after Spike unceremoniously dumped him in a dark corner of a large room, Willow was allowed to check on him. <Xander's still alive . . . *good*, but Spike is happy . . . that is a bad, bad sign.> Willow stood up to find Spike staring at her evilly.

"Do you have any idea how bloody difficult it is to find a virgin these days?" Willow just stared at him, in shock.

"It used to be a lot easier, in the good 'ole days," he continued wistfully. "Once upon a time you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a virgin or two. But now, well . . . here we are, and I am fresh out of cats."

Willow could feel herself beginning to blush, and looked away from him quickly. <Uh oh, this is *so* not good.> Spike slowly sauntered toward her and placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Very rare indeed."

Willow snapped her face out of his grasp, backing away. "What does my, uh, lack of experience have to do with anything?" she asked, forcing herself to continue to look into his cold eyes. "What do you want from me?" <Ooh, why did I ask that question?>

Spike laughed cruelly, turning away. "Don't worry, your virtue is safe with me. In fact, it is vital to my plans. Actually, I guess it would be more accurate to say 'our plans' since it was your idea."

"Spike, what are you talking about," Willow spit out impatiently. But before the words had even finished leaving her lips she remembered their last encounter <'. . . .unless you can change the past or bring her pack from the dead. . .' Oh no, Willow. What have you done? He's going to use my blood to bring her back. Geez, virgins always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop.>

Seeing the panicked look on her face, he surmised that she remembered her last words to him. "Is it coming back to you now? Before this is over, pet, you are going to regret not staking me when you had the chance."

"I think I already do," Willow muttered.

Spike laughed again as he turned away and started sorting through some shopping bags on the floor nearby. He drew out what appeared to be women's clothes and tossed them at her. "Here, put these on," he ordered.

Willow just stared at him, incredulous. "What? Here? Now? But I. .. .."

"*Now* Willow. And if you are feeling rather coy you can go in there," he said impatiently pointing to an adjacent room.

When Willow didn't move, Spike took a step toward Xander. "Or, if you prefer, I could just drain Xapper here of a few gallons of . . .."

"No, I'm going," Willow began as she edged toward the other room, " . . .and it's *Xander.*"

"Whatever," Spike replied, already turning his attention back to the bags.

When Willow was alone she took a closer look at the clothing. She inspected a long, green cotton dress that was obviously of a historical design. There was a subtle pattern to the heavy fabric and it was unquestionable that this dress was not made by modern machinery. "It's beautiful," she mumbled under her breath. "Wait a minute. This doesn't look like a ceremonial sacrificial gown." <Yeah, Will. Like you know what one looks like!> The other items confused her even more . . . a corset, pointy shoes, various undergarments, and stockings. Willow was thoroughly bewildered. The outfit reminded her a little of the Halloween costume Buffy wore last year, yet it looked authentic, not costumey, and more Victorian.

"What's taking so long?" Spike's voice echoed in the empty mansion. "If you don't hurry up, I will come in there and dress you myself."

"No! It's okay. I'm coming." Willow hurriedly starting undressing. It took her a while to figure out the many layers to the ensemble, but she remembered some of it from helping Buffy. She did as best she could with the corset on her own. There was no mirror in the room so Willow had no way of knowing if she had it right, but she took a deep breath and walked back to the main room. "I look like . . . "

The words died on her lips when she saw Spike. "Oh my god . . . " Willow stammered. Spike was standing in front of her wearing a mid-length dark coat over a white long-sleeved shirt tucked into tight breeches and tall black boots. The dark coat he wore covered what appeared to be a vest in a material similar to her dress's. Suddenly she glanced down at what she was wearing again. <Okay, we both look like something out of "Little Women." Wow, he looks good, handsome, sexy. Stop it Willow!>

Spike's eye widened when he saw her, and he stood there for a moment, just staring at her. <Nice little figure she's been hiding under all those baggy clothes.> "Good," he said, finally composing himself. "I see they fit. Now, turn around," he demanded, twirling his finger in the air, then nodding his approval. "Since I can't be exactly sure when we'll arrive, these will just have to do since it is all the worthless museum in this town had to offer. Hopefully we won't be too obvious before we have a chance to buy something more suitable."

Willow obliged, "I don't understand."

Spike rolled his eyes and snickered. "Come on love, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one." <Wonder where she learned how to put on a corset? If I wasn't sure she was a virgin, I might think she had an interesting knicker drawer.> Come on man, focus. "It is quite simple, really. You and I are going to make history, or at least change it a bit." Seeing that Willow was still clueless, he went on. "It was *your* idea, love. We are going back in time to make sure that Drusilla is mine for ever. I am not going to share her with that bloody Angel anymore or let him drive her to suicide."

"I. . . I don't understand. How?"

"A little thick today, aren't we? I'll speak slowly, then. Do try and catch up," his voice was sarcastic but had undertones of excitement and hope. "I did some poking around and found a way to go back in time, and we are going to fix everything. Then Dru and I will be back together for eternity."

Willow saw the pain return to his eyes and heard it in his voice. <Can vampires really love?> "What do you need me for?"

"The thing of it is, I was only able to find a musty old druid spell, and it will only work on those who are pure of heart, soul, intent, and .. . . well, you know. So the spell will actually send you back, and I will just tag along."

Willow was blushing again, and this angered her. "I don't believe this. You think I am going to go back in time to help you get your dead girlfriend back? I think all that alcohol-laden blood has finally gone to your brain."

"No, love," he said advancing on her, deadly serious. "You have no choice, unless of course you want Xander to die, as well as yourself."

Willow remained quiet, trying to absorb everything he had said.

"Now that we understand each other, let's get started."

Willow's mind shifted into overdrive as she realized the consequences if Spike was actually able to affect the past. Would he kill Angel before he was turned? No, he's not stupid. Angel is his sire. Would he kill him after that, after Angel had vamped Dru? What about Buffy? Buffy needed Angel to help her, at least until he lost his soul again. < No, I can't take that chance. I can't let him kill Angel. > But, if Angel, Spike and Dru weren't around, maybe things would be better. <Ow, brain ache!>

Spike took her silence as submission. <Good. This is working out just lovely.>

When he slid something onto her finger, Willow stopped her mental calculations. She pulled her left hand out of his grasp to find a simple silver band on its ring finger. "Gee Spike, I didn't know you cared," she said softly, surprised at her own attempt at humor.

"Don't ever mistake my needing you for caring about your dreary little excuse of a life," he growled as he turned to busy himself at a nearby table. <Hmm, a sense of humor too?>

Willow winced at the bitterness in his voice. <Why should I care if he thinks I'm dreary?>

Willow questioned him about the ring. "What is this for?"

"The spell requires an anchor to a time and a person, both to where we are going and from whence we came. That ring was Angel's. It's the only possession of his I could find from back then. I would have preferred to have something of mine or Dru's, then the timing would be more accurate." He continued as he lit candles and mixed some powders, "But we kept no mementos, needing to travel light and all."

"So," he went on. "With that ring, we will be able to travel to anytime that Angel wore it, which if I remember right, was up until at least a few years after he turned Dru. The plan is for us to go back to the approximate time that they met, and I will kill Angel and sire Drusilla myself"

<So that's his plan. I can't let that happen!> "How do I know you won't just kill me once we get there, or leave me?" Willow managed to ask coherently.

"As I said, the spell is actually working on you, the virgin. I am only along for the ride, so to speak," he said with more than a hint of lewdness. "In order for us to get back here, you will still need to be a living, breathing virgin. All I will have to do is recite a very simple short spell, and we will be brought back to the exact place and time that we left." Spike closed on her, putting his hand under her chin, his eyes clamped on hers, "Let's make this crystal clear right now. If I die or you decide to disappear on me, you will have no way of returning to your precious little life here in the good old U.S. of A."

He released her, and Willow swallowed hard, trying to absorb all the information.

"So, all you have to do is concentrate on the year 1860 and think about Christmas time. She was turned soon after that." Spike looked at Willow questioningly, hoping he hadn't overestimated her ability to handle the situation. "Do you think you can handle that, Red?"

Willow nodded, preoccupied. She had to think quickly now. What year was Angel turned by Darla? Where? <Come on Willow, think!>

"Ready love? Just a couple more things to finish the spell."

Willow nodded again, still distracted in her desperation to remember the details of Angel's long past.

<She's awfully quiet. Probably in shock.> "Don't you dare faint on me."

<Yes, I think that's right!> Willow glanced quickly at Xander, he hadn't moved but still appeared to be breathing. She turned to look Spike straight in the eye, "I'm ready."

"Good, pet. Good." Spike smiled at her, pulling her into a circle he had drawn on the floor. "First we need some blood," and before Willow could object he had already made a shallow cut on her wrist.

Willow gasped as the blood seeped to the surface. Just as quickly, Spike cut his own wrist. "You promised . . . " Willow sputtered, afraid he was going to force her to drink his blood after all.

"Don't worry. Remember, pure of soul and all that crap. Now concentrate love, this is important unless you want to spend a 100 or so years wearing a corset waiting for Dru to be born. We only get one shot at this. Christmas 1860-- concentrate."

Willow focused as hard as she could on the date and time, but just then Xander began to stir and she faltered. Spike squeezed a few drops of her blood onto the ring. "Concentrate . . . 1860 . . . Christmas," he demanded, forcing her attention back to him. Then, never taking his eyes away from hers, he brought her wrist to his lips, "Concentrate . . . " and slowly slid his tongue across her wound, tasting her. <Damn, why did I do that. She needs to concentrate.>

Willow's eyes closed of their own volition against the sensuous feeling of his lips on her skin. <Oh my!>

Spike was amazed at his own actions and his inability to control himself, but her pure blood was like nectar. <It's a shame she will have to remain a virgin until we get back.>

"Concentrate love," he said softly. "We're almost done." He then took his own dripping wrist and allowed a few drops to fall on the ring.

Willow watched fascinated as their blood mingled on her hand. Spike began speaking in a language she didn't recognize. <Gaelic?> Soon she noticed her hand was growing warmer, and she began to panic. Spike took her ring hand in his, then with his free hand gripped the back of her head by her hair, bringing her face close to his.

"Concentrate . . . Christmas 1860 . . . Christmas 1860 . . . " His eyes were boring into hers with an intensity matched only by the pain in her hand.

The heat was becoming intolerable now. Willow struggled to control her emotions and to concentrate at the same time. She was unaware of the tears streaming down her face when finally the pain caused her to scream.

A blinding flash emanated from the ring. Then darkness and nothing.
 

~Chapter Three~

The first thing Willow noticed was the searing pain in her left hand, even before she was aware that she was alive, or that she was lying on a very hard, cold surface. Her body felt like lead, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't seem to move. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she managed to pry her eyelids open. Above her the stars seemed so much brighter than usual. <Like when I was in the mountains a few summers ago. No smog.>

She became aware of a low groan coming from somewhere nearby. Willow eventually forced herself into a sitting position, then noticed the source of the sound. "Spike?" she asked as he slowly stood up, rubbing the back of his head.

"Did . . . did it work?"

He looked around at the cobblestone-paved alley where he was standing. "It's definitely not home, sweet home," he stated as he helped Willow to her feet. "Let's go have a look-see, shall we?" His words were laced with excitement.

"Ow!" Willow whined as the pain forced itself back to the forefront. She held her hand up to her face, trying to see the ring in the darkness.

"Ouch! This ring feels like it's on fire." Without thinking she put the injured finger to her mouth, hoping that sucking on it might help, but only succeeded in burning her lips. "Ow!" <Willow, stop whining, you sound like a big baby!>

Spike looked closely at her hand, his night vision enabling him to see the ring clearly. The surrounding skin was bright red and blistered where the silver band had melted slightly. He tugged at it, causing Willow to grimace, but it was now permanently bonded with her skin. "Well, at least I won't have to worry about you going and losing it now, will I?"

Willow didn't dignify him with an answer, instead choosing to blow on her finger.
"Come on then," Spike said impatiently.

Willow nodded nervously, and they walked toward the open end of the alleyway. It led to a wide street, lined with small shops and businesses. A few people scurried by, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere else. A few others lingered farther down the lane in what appeared to be a town square, but no one seemed to take notice of the newly arrived couple. They stood there for a few moments, taking in the lamp-lit streets, horse-drawn carts, and antiquated clothing.

"I don't believe it. It worked!" Willow said in a whisper.

"Did it?" Spike's voice was bitter. "This bloody-well isn't Christmas 1860, in fact, this isn't even London!"

He spun Willow harshly around to face him, his hands digging deeply into her upper arms. His face was a mask of barely controlled anger, and she was suddenly afraid that he was about to morph. "What the hell have you done?"

Willow shrank from the angry vampire, but was not able to escape his grip. "What . . . what do you mean? This definitely isn't Sunnydale."

"Damn girl! You did this on purpose, didn't you? Didn't you?" He was practically yelling now and shaking her by her shoulders. It occurred to Willow that maybe Spike's 'needing' her might not be enough to ensure her safety.

"Pardon me," came a deep voice from behind them. "Are ya in need of assistance young lady?"

She turned toward the voice as Spike's hold on her loosened. She was relieved to be free of his seething stare, but was unable to speak. A middle-aged man was watching her closely, obviously concerned.

"Miss? Is this man accosting ya?"

"Um, no, thank you," she managed to stammer, aware that Spike's hand now sat gently on her hip.

"My wife and I are just having a little disagreement," Spike broke in. "Weren't we love?" he whispered loudly into her ear, his arms snaking around her waist.

Willow nodded her head obediently, hoping her fake smile hid her distress. <Wife? Hey, he never said I would have to pretend to be his wife!>

The man looked warily at the odd couple and took a few steps toward them.

"You see," Spike continued nonchalantly. "We just arrived and have somehow managed to lose most of our possessions. Apparently, a gentleman charmed my beloved, then made off with everything but the clothing on our backs, and luckily our purse," he told the man as he patted his coat pocket. "I can't leave the little woman here alone for a minute!" Spike continued with a wink.

Willow had to fight the urge to poke him in the ribs with her elbow. <Little woman? Great, even vampires are chauvinist pigs.>

The man's face broke into toothless grin, and he answered Spike's wink with a knowing one of his own.

"Really now? Where are ya from then?"

"We recently arrived from America, having just been married the night before we boarded. So, as I am sure you can understand, my lovely bride is a little nervous." He finished spinning his web of lies with a sensual kiss on her exposed neck.

His smile broadened even more. "Ah, yes, that makes sense, and explains your, uh, *unusual* manner of dress."

Willow was pleasantly surprised at how quickly Spike thought on his feet, and how well he was able to fall into a more 'civilized' style of speech. <He should have been an actor.> She composed herself, realizing she had no choice but to play along. Smiling innocently she added, "Yes, everything is quite different here."

"Well, you're in luck if you're in need of a place to stay," the kind man said, obviously believing their story. "I have an inn just up the lane a wee bit that I am sure ya will find quite comfortable *and private,*" he said with another wink. "Then in the morning ya can speak with the constable 'bout yer misfortune."

"You are very kind. Please lead the way," Spike said, attempting to sound jovial. As they followed several steps behind the innkeeper, he pulled Willow close with the arm that had remained around her waist. He spoke quietly and gently so that to anyone watching it would appear as if he was just whispering in his lover's ear, but his words dripped with contempt. "Keep your bloody mouth shut until we are completely alone, my little wife," he added sarcastically. Willow stiffened against his side and kept her eyes firmly set on the back of the man guiding the way.

Willow's mind was racing, trying to figure out from the architecture of the buildings and the fashions of the local people exactly where and when they were. But nothing was as she had pictured in her mind. The historical re-creations she had envisioned were never this detailed. Never so alive. It took her breath away. She couldn't resist, and spoke so quietly that not even Spike was able to hear her, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto!" She couldn't help but break out in a big smile. < I always wanted to say that!>

<What's that girl grinning about?> Spike was fuming. <She really mucked this whole thing up.> He had asked for London. He had asked for Christmas. He had asked for 1860, and what did he get? Eighteenth-century Ireland, in what he assumed was the spring. <I hate the 18th century, everybody smells so foul you need to hold your nose just to have a quick bite.> He wished he could have just killed the man who dared to think that he was some common mugger who enjoyed beating up defenseless women, but since he and Willow needed to try to attract as little attention as possible, he knew they would have to try to blend in. <What *is* she grinning about?>

The innkeeper was true to his word, and they quickly arrived at a quaint little inn on a side street. Willow stood quietly by the fire, trying to ignore the curious stares she was receiving, while Spike and the owner discussed suitable accommodation. She looked down at her dress, comparing it with those of the other ladies in the common room. The clothing Spike had stolen from the museum was obviously of a style that had yet to come in fashion, but she didn't think they looked too conspicuous. Willow was fairly sure the local gossipers would just attribute their odd attire to the fact that they came from a different continent. <If they only knew!>

"Darling?" Spike's voice broke into her thoughts. He held a softly glowing oil lamp in one hand, and the other was stretched out to her. "Shall we retire to our bedchamber?" he asked seductively.

She winced as his hand closed on her throbbing finger, but he didn't seem to notice. <Ow! I think he did that on purpose!> Willow was rubbing her temple as she allowed the vampire to lead her down the dark hallways. <Please, oh *please* let this be a dream . . . our bedchamber . . . Spike's wife. I have such a headache!>

Spike's key opened the last door, his light revealing a fairly large room containing a bed, wash stand, armoire and writing desk. <Hmm, no windows. Wonder how he managed that?> Still rubbing her head, Willow flopped face down on the bed. Suddenly realizing she was alone in a bedroom with the blonde vampire, she frantically scrambled to the head of the bed where she sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, and waited. Spike calmly finished lighting the lamps in the room, leaned against the far wall, and then finally looked at Willow.

"You must be pretty pleased with yourself right now."

His voice was bitter and cold. Gone was the facade of the loving bridegroom.

Willow put on her best wide-eyed innocent look. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't try to pull that crap with me. You brought us to Galway, Ireland in 1753 on bloody purpose. But listen to me right now, my deceptive little virgin, this does not change a thing. *Not* a thing."

"That's where we are? Galway in 1753? How do you know that."

"It was on the register when I got us this cozy little honeymoon suite. By the way, we are officially William and Rose Smith, but I wouldn't bother getting it monogramed on any pillowcases if I were you."

Trying to ignore the sarcasm, Willow pondered her new pseudonym. "Rose Smith?" Willow knew from her research that William was his real name, but not Smith. She assumed that Rose was chosen from her last name because Willow was too unusual just as Smith was chosen for its commonness. "But I don't feel like a Rose."

Spike just shrugged his shoulders. "Don't try and change the subject, pet. Tell me what you were thinking when you brought us to this godforsaken place. And it better be the truth, because I am beginning to lose patience with you."

Willow's brain shifted back into overdrive, trying to focus on why they were here. "Well, I . . . I, uh, couldn't let you just kill Angel like that, or uh Angelus, he saved my life several times. And, yeah, sure he tried to kill me a couple of times too, but . . . ."

<Just spit it out already!> He was in no mood for Willow's skittish banter. "And?"

"And, I don't know. I just panicked and this was the only date I could think of when Angelus was alive."

"Once again, your kindness will be wasted. I am still going to kill him."

"But, if you kill him who will change you?"

That got his attention. "What?"

Willow realized that he hadn't really thought this whole thing through. "Angel is your sire, right? So if you kill him, who will be your, um, dad, so to speak?"

<Wait. Is this a bad thing?>

Spike contemplated this for a moment. "No problem, I will just explain it all to Darla when she comes to town, and make sure that she changes me instead. Then I, the *other* me, will change Dru when the time is right."

Spike smiled when he finished, obviously pleased with himself.

"Right," Willow laughed. "You're going to trust Darla? I am sure she will be happy to comply, no questions asked. I can't wait 'til we go back home to see the look on your face when you find out you no longer exist. Although, then, you won't have a face because you'll actually be *really* dead this time, so. . . uh, never mind."

Spike glared at Willow then rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and purposefully banged the back of his head against the wall. He found that sometimes a little pain helped him concentrate. "Why do I have a feeling I am going to regret this?" he sighed in exasperation.

"You'd be surprised how many times I hear that," Willow replied, without even a hint of a smile.

The room was deadly silent for several minutes while they both considered the future and the past. Finally Willow spoke, "Can't we just forget this whole thing and go home? Next time you ask me to kill you, I promise to follow your instructions to the letter."

"Funny. No, we are not going back yet. I came here to get Drusilla back and we will not leave until that happens, no matter how long it takes. Like I said before, we only get one shot at this."

"Not that I really want time travel to be my after-school job, but what do you mean?"

"I mean, love, this particular spell is a one-time-only deal." Frustration was apparent in his every word.

"Apparently the Druids weren't a very trusting lot, they wanted to make sure that no one tried to redo the past 100 times until they got it right. So, this is it."

"Great, so what are we going to do?" Willow asked, surmising now was not the time to challenge his evaluation of the situation.

"The way I see it, you have a couple of choices. I could find sweet little Angel now, kill him, and somehow get Darla to understand that in about 50 years she has to change 'me', and then explain to 'me' that I have to vamp Dru. Or," he continued, "I could still find sweet little Angel now, kill him, then we wait 50 years and I change myself, or . . ."

"Wait right there, I am not staying here 50 years! What about my family, they'll be worried. And, and . . . how am I supposed to get a job in 50 years without even a highschool diploma . . ." <I don't want to have to be a 70-year-old fry girl, those hats make my head look all pointy.>

"Willow, no need to get your knickers in a knot. You won't age a day, no matter how long we stay. When we get back it'll be like we never left."

She looked at him suspiciously, wondering if he was just saying that to shut her up. "How? Are, are you sure?"

"Listen! It didn't exactly come with a bloody user's manual. All I know is that it said something about how time will stop where we came from, for us anyway, and that the traveler is now a container, or vessel, for that time. The end result being you will not age and can not die, except by your own hand."

Willow's mouth fell open. "I can't die?" she eventually managed. "Not while we are here, unless you off yourself or something. Our future, which I guess is actually the past, is in you. When we return, the spell is complete and we are back home. Then you can return to your exciting life full of boys, books, and chastity."

"But, I don't understand. Laws of physics require . . ."

"Who do I look like, bloody Thomas Edison?" Spike interrupted. "I don't understand it, I just read it."

"I think you mean Albert Einstein, and actually the theories of . . ." Spike's exasperated look put a stop to her physic's lesson.

"Okay, so let me make sure I understand this. I am stuck here, on a honeymoon, with you, and you want to kill Angel and sire yourself. <Jerry Springer would have a field day with this!> *But,* on the plus side, I'm immortal."

"Yup, love. That about sums it up."

Willow flung herself back on the bed, exhaustion and confusion beginning to take its toll. "This is like a really bad episode of Star Trek," Willow mumbled into her hands which were now covering her face. "With Kirk, though, not Picard because Picard would *never* allow this to happen."

<I knew it, she's finally gone batty. Come on mate, say something nurturing.> Spike just stared at the slight form of the girl on the bed, trying to think of something encouraging to say. "Alright sweetie, listen up. I've already spent decades with a woman whose stake didn't come to a point, so please try not to lose it on me. And, you have a choice to make, remember?" <Not exactly Mother Theresa mate, but at least you got her to stop babbling about the tele.>

<Vampire humor?> Willow took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I need time, Spike. I have to figure out how our actions here will affect the future. Remember, Angel helped Buffy a lot in the beginning, and Buffy saved my life. So how can I let you kill him, when the result could be my own death?"

"Fine. Take a couple of days then. I'd say we have about two months until Darla comes to town, but before you get all gooey over your perfect little Angel, remember how many people he treated like his own personal little lunch box, both before the gypsy's curse and after."

Willow's hands were still covering her face, trying to block out all the scenarios that were hammering at her mind. <If Angel dies, I may die too. Or would I be dead already? Angelus has killed hundreds of people. Is his life, or mine, worth it? Oh God, what do I do? What do I do?>

"Get some sleep, love. I am going to grab a bite to eat."

"You can't!" Willow squealed, sitting up."

Spike brought his leering face within an inch of Willow's. "Why love? Are we a little anxious to start the honeymoon festivities? Again, a tempting offer but sorry, *virgin,* remember?"

Willow ignored his attempt to embarrass her. <This virgin thing is getting a little stale Spikey!>

"Because, if you kill anyone while we are here, it could have drastic effects in the future. Maybe the ancestors of your next meal saved, or uh, will save your father's life or Dru's or cure a disease or something. Oh, you know what I mean," she finally whined in desperation."That's all fine and dandy, honey," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But a body's gotta eat, even a dead body, and I am not going to start turning rats into meals."

Weariness was finally overcoming Willow. "But you don't *have* to . . . kill . . .them, do you?" she managed to mumble between yawns. Then suddenly her eyes popped open, "Be careful, dear husband, I don't want to get burned at the stake just because your too high and mighty to feed from some poor drunk who won't remember anything the next day."

"They don't burn people at the stake anymore, *dear*, but since you have a point, I will alter my feeding habits just a bit. For now!"

< I hope so.>Willow was asleep before Spike had closed the door.
 

~Chapter Four~

"Damn, what the hell am I going to do now!" Spike was talking loudly to himself as he left the inn. He needed to walk and clear his head, and he needed to feed.

"Everything would be all right if you had just done what I said," he told no one in particular as he walked quickly down an unknown street. "I'd be looking for Dru right now and maybe checking out some of the old haunts. But *no,* instead I am stuck here with Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm almost a century away from Drusilla even being born." < What *am* I going to do now?>

Spike contemplated this for a while, paying little attention to where his feet were taking him, and he felt his rage growing. He thought back to the night he had tried to kill himself only to be thwarted by the young girl with sickeningly good intentions. < She wouldn't even allow me to kill myself, so why did I expect her to just sit back and wait while I killed Angel.> "Bloody idiot!" Spike yelled at himself as he turned down a deserted side street.

Spotting some empty crates in the alleyway he began picking them up and throwing them around while repeatedly berating Willow and himself with words like "Idiot!" "Stupid girl!" and "Damn!"

As he took his anger out on what was now little more than a pile of splinters, he began to feel some of his anger dissipate. Finally, he took one last great swing with what was left of a crate and smashed it against a brick wall. In his distraught state he didn't notice the ricocheting piece of wood headed straight for him. At the last possible moment his heightened reflexes allowed him to dodge to the side as the stake passed within inches of his neck. It didn't allow him to remain on his feet, however, as the sudden twisting motion caused him to once again fall flat on his back. The vampire lay there in the damp alley, surrounded by shattered pieces of wood that were more than capable of converting his body into ashes, and suddenly he started laughing. It started as a self-pitying "If they could see me now" chuckle, but eventually was replaced by an all-out side-splitting roar of laughter.

Several minutes later, when Spike was able to regain his composure, he picked himself up and brushed himself off. As he left the alleyway before anyone could come to see what all the noise was about, he was still grinning wildly and beginning to feel much better about the whole situation. He now knew he really had no choice. < I will do whatever it takes to get Dru back. Nothing has changed; it's just going to take a little longer.> Spike continued on his way, and once again allowed his thoughts to be brought back to the girl sleeping so trustingly in their room. "Hell," he mumbled to himself.

"Willow's probably in love with Angel, everyone else seems to be-- Dru, Darla, even the bloody slayer. Was this little one also infatuated with the wimpy vampire?" he wondered aloud. < Of course, it would be more interesting if she were in love with the soulless Angelus, but slim chance of that, mate! No matter, if she is in love with either this could be very difficult.> "I wonder what lengths she would go to in order to save his life?"

"Not as far as I'm willing to go to take it," he said cruelly. The evil grin returned to his face when he thought about killing Angel and never letting him know the love of any of these women.

Spike realized now he had been walking for quite awhile and did not have much longer until daybreak. Luckily, he had come to a rougher part of town, where every other building seemed to house a tavern. It was not long before he found what he was looking for. In a dark alleyway he discovered a young man passed out cold from too much drink. It took only a moment to drain him of some blood, although Spike had to admit to himself it was more difficult than he thought it would be to control the bloodlust and not to empty him of his very life. The vampire had already come to the conclusion that, although the likelihood of anything he did here adversely affecting his future with Drusilla was slim, he was not going to take any chances.

He drank enough to satisfy his immediate needs, but it wouldn't fulfill him until the next nightfall. Not when he had to keep control of himself around Willow. It took only a dozen or so more steps to find his next blood donor. < Dessert!> This time it was an older obese man. < Looks like he could stand to lose a few pounds anyway. He was still awake so Spike snuck easily up behind him and slammed his head into the wall, rendering him unconscious. The man never saw him coming and would think that he had just tripped on his way home.

"Well, that bloody well better make her happy. Didn't kill a soul," Spike grumbled to himself as he headed back. "After two months of this, I'm going to need a busload of nuns."

Willow was still asleep when Spike returned to their room. He stood silently in the corner and just watched her for awhile. He could hear her every breath and every beat of her heart. He could hear the singing sound the blood made as it flowed through her jugular, and it called to him. But still he just stood and watched and listened to the music that was her life. He couldn't remember the last time he watched a living woman sleep without killing her. < I don't think I ever did!> After awhile, Spike finally sank to the floor and drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~

Spike was awakened by knocking. For a moment he wondered who it was and toyed with the idea of killing the culprit immediately until he remembered that he had sent Willow out on some errands first thing that morning.

"Sp . . ., uh, William, could you open the door please? My arms are full."

"Typical, we haven't been in this time for a full day yet, and she probably bought everything in town," Spike said aloud as he open the heavy door of their room.

Willow stood in the dim hallway with her arms full of various paper-wrapped bundles. He didn't offer to help her with the load, choosing instead to just step back out of the doorway.

Willow slid past him trying not to come in direct contact with the vampire's body. She had a lot of time to think while she wandered around town trying to find suitable clothing. She had started to fully realize the ramifications of their little journey, and that there was every possibility that she was going to be here with Spike for a very long time. She had also come to the conclusion that although Spike's needing her alive and 'intact' might be enough to safeguard her virginity, the same could not be said for her sanity. The fate of her future, and that of her friends', was in her hands, and it was a heavy burden that was already beginning to drain some of her energy. But she also knew that in order to ever get home, she was going to have to play along with Spike and hopefully come up with a plan that they could both live with. Just what that plan was, she wasn't sure of yet.

"So, what do we have here, love? Your trousseau?"

She set down her packages and then tossed a heavy cloth purse on the bed, causing several coins to spill out. "I just did what you said. I sold the jewelry you brought with you and bought some clothes."

Spike inspected the money that Willow had received in trade for the jewelry and gems he had stuffed his jacket pockets with before they had left. He wasn't happy about leaving something so important up to her, but few banks and trading houses were open at night. It appeared though that she had done quite well, and they would have enough money to live very comfortably for quite some time. Plus, if necessary, he had additional jewelry as well.

Willow went on, avoiding Spike in the suddenly too small room. "I bought several dresses, plus a few odds and ends. I also bought you some clothes. I, um, I hope that's okay and that they fit because I didn't exactly know your size," she stammered. "But there was another man there who looked like you. Well not like you really because he was alive and everything, but like you physically. You know, kinda thin. Oh, but, a, thin in a good way . . . ." She forced herself into silence and pushed several packages toward him.

< She bought me clothes? No one buys me clothes. Not even Dru.> He just stared at her with a blank expression on his face. Willow didn't notice though, she still had not looked at him and was pretending to busy herself by putting her purchases away. He waited, not moving, for the little slip of a girl to look at him. < Why is she avoiding me all of the sudden? I am tired of this game.>

"Willow?"

"Yes Spike?" she answered, trying to sound casual as she shoved some new garments into the armoire.

"Willow," he repeated more strongly.

"Hm?" Willow was now very aware that Spike was watching her every move and becoming impatient with her, but she wasn't ready for the inevitable confrontation that was building between them. < Ignore him Willow! Focus on something else.> She attempted to act nonchalant, unwrapping a nightgown that she bought and was very pleased with. It was a beautifully embroidered, ankle-length white cotton gown with long sleeves. The drawstring neckline was the kind that could be worn off of the shoulders, making it very romantic. Willow had always wanted one of but never had the nerve to buy one.

Luckily, here it was a common style. < I'm going to wear it under my clothes the day we go back!> She knew he was staring at her, but she was determined not to be the first one to give in.

"Look at me Willow!" She ignored his taunt and started folding the nightgown, already embarrassed to have bought it.

As if reading her mind Spike went over and grabbed the garment out of her hand, holding it up. "Not exactly Fredericks of Hollywood, but very you. *Very* virginal."

Willow could feel the crimson creeping into her face, but she wouldn't allow him to get to her. She snatched the garment back and put it in the drawer. "I just did what you said, and I needed something to sleep in. I suppose you expect me to sleep fully dressed around you. But sorry Spike, I'm, um, not afraid of you anymore."

She had intended to sound determined but was afraid she sounded more like a spoiled child trying to stand up to an overbearing parent.

"Really?" he said with a sly smile, his mouth coming very close to the back of her neck.

She took a deep breath. < Come on Willow, if you don't put an end to this now, you will go insane after two weeks from all this sexual innuendo.> She turned to face him and found that he was mere inches from her. The girl looked him straight in the eye, "Yes, really. You want to go home as much as I do. So, I know you won't touch me. I mean, you said it yourself, living, breathing, virgin, remember?" Willow managed to sound less childlike this time.

Spike was surprised by the conviction in her voice, but came to a realization of his own. He knew that if he didn't do something to destroy her budding self-confidence now, he would lose what little control he had over the situation. So he didn't move away from her, instead he leaned even closer. His voice became condescending, "It seems we still have a few things to sort out here, my wife. You say you are no longer afraid of me? You should be. *Very* afraid." He put on his game face before continuing. "Just because I can't kill you it doesn't mean that I won't torture you for awhile, or better yet, feed from you. I think that you would make a perfect little vampire drink machine. I imagine I could drain you almost completely of blood and because of the little *temporary* immortality factor, you'd be all nice and full again the next day. Actually, I rather like the idea of you being my personal blood bank."

Spike let his face return to its human facade and then put on a devilish grin. "So I wouldn't get very comfortable playing house here if I were you," he said menacingly, running a finger along her collarbone.

Willow felt all the color drain from her face when everything the blonde vampire said sunk in. < Wonderful! He wants to treat me like his very own Big Gulp from the 7-11. Free refills!> Suddenly she came to a similar conclusion as Spike. She would have to make a stand now, while she still had an ounce of courage. She grabbed his roaming finger that was threatening to drive her mad.

"No, Spike! Now this time it's your turn to listen." Her voice was raised, but surprisingly calm. "Sure, you are stronger than me, and sure, maybe you are right about the whole, uh, blood regeneration thing, but on the plus side then we wouldn't have to worry about you killing half the town, because you could just . . ." < Oh my God. Did I really just say that?> Willow took a moment to regroup her thoughts then released his finger. "Okay, forget everything I just said. What I meant to say was that we both want to get home, and so we need to work together. And don't think for a second that if you hurt me in anyway, I won't just walk out this door and leave your ass here by itself for the rest of eternity. I, I won't put up with it, and I *can* take care of myself if I have to!" < There! That part went pretty well!> Willow tried unsuccessfully not to wear a self-satisfied smile at the look of surprise on his face. "Take a look at the clothes already. I need to go."

Spike looked at the girl again with an amused look on his face. < This one is full of surprises, mate. You better keep an eye on her.> Finally he opened the packages and inspected the clothes she had purchased for him. They seemed simple and looked about the right size.

"They look fine," he said as he started undressing. "Do you want me to try them on now?"

< I think he enjoys seeing me blush!> Willow turned away again. "No, I need to go anyway so you can have some, uh, privacy."

"Where are you going?" he asked, only because he thought he should.

"Well, because of your elaborate little lie on our arrival, the constable wants me to stop by the jail and fill out a report or something. I figured I might as well play along, for now."

"When did you see the constable?" Spike was now only wearing the pants he had arrived in.

Willow gathered her purse and walked toward the door but not before taking a quick peek at Spike's lithe body. < Better get used to it Willow!> "What? Oh, um, first thing this morning, while innkeeper Fitzsimmon's daughter helped me find my way around," she sputtered.

"We met him in town, so I better get going."

Just as Willow was about to close the door behind her, she stuck her head back around and added with a smirk, "Don't go anywhere while I am gone!"

Willow followed the simple directions that the constable had given her and soon found herself outside a small one-story building with bars on it's few windows. Upon entering she found herself in a small waiting area filled with wooden chairs. A counter took up one side, and a man was sitting at it writing. He looked up when she entered and greeted her with a friendly smile, "Perfect timing Mrs. Smith. I was just getting ready to release last night's guests. Why don't ya take a look at them as they leave, just in case, and then afterward I'll take a description of the man and yer things. Now, I doubt that any of these men are the one who stole yer belongings, but ya never know. Especially since they obviously had enough money to get themselves three sheets to the wind last night," he added with a laugh.

Willow smiled back at the older man, regretting that she had to lie to him. "Thank you for trying to help. I realize that the chance of getting our things back is very slim. I am just glad that my, um, husband had most of our more valuable things on him personally."

"Yes, that is lucky. Now, if ya would just take a seat back here," he said, motioning toward a desk behind the counter. "We will be releasing the men, one at a time. Take a good look at them while we are signing them out, and just let me know if any of them look familiar or if ya need a closer look."

"I will, thank you," Willow replied as she walked around the counter and took a seat. The constable nodded to another man who then walked down a hallway. A few minutes later he was back, leading a middle-aged man who had definitely seen better days.

"Ah, Sean," the constable said to the hung-over man, the pity obvious in his voice. "Here we are again, I see. Why is it that almost every Friday night, ya end up here after picking a fight with someone more sober than yerself?" The constable then snuck a look at Willow, who shook her head subtly.

"It's me wife, you see." the bedraggled man answered. "I get paid on Fridays, and every Friday she tells me that if I spend all me wages on ale, that I better not come home. So, ya see, I am just obey'n her wishes!"

Constable O'Leary laughed at this, and even Willow couldn't help but smile. "Then ya better get home. I imagine that yer wife will punish ya much better than I ever could!"

The other man gave a half-hearted smile, "You never said a truer word!" He then signed a piece of paper and staggered out the door. Before the door had even closed, another man was being led down the hall, this one much younger with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Willow could smell the alcohol on him even before she was able to get a good look at his face.

"I don't understand why you kept me here in the first place," the young man mumbled. "All I did was have a little too much to drink. Since when is that a crime?"

The constable looked Willow before replying, his voice filled with the patience of a man who had done this a million times before. "The crime wasn't drinking too much, it was when ya vomited on the priest that we thought perhaps you might be safer in here."

The young drunk looked surprised. "Oh, well I guess I should be thank'n you then," and with that he left.

Two more men were brought down the hallway, and each time Willow shook her head freeing them of any suspicion over her missing clothes. They had similar stories to those that had come before, and Willow suspected that each of them would probably end up being guests here again.

"Last one's coming out now, ma'am," the constable told her. "I don't think he's yer man, but he does have a bit of a reputation with the ladies, so ya never know."

Willow took a quick glance at the last man as he stumbled out of the hallway and in to the larger room.

It took a moment for his face to register with her brain. < Angel?> She wasn't completely sure because he looked so different. So healthy. His skin had a sun-kissed glow to it, his cheeks were rosy with life, and his long hair was pulled back as was the fashion. It was also impossible to miss that he was sporting a fresh black eye. Realizing that she was staring, she ripped her eyes away from the living, breathing Angel and forced herself to concentrate on the constable's back, waiting for him to look for her signal. Luckily, she didn't have to wait long, and she subtlety shook her head at his silent question. She was aware now that Angelus was looking at her and smiling, but his attention was brought back to the officer.

"Ya know, Angelus," Constable O'Leary lectured. "One of these days you're going to get yerself killed by an angry husband. There are dozens of beautiful young women in this town who would love to be yer wife and bear ya a litter of children, so why don't ya grow up and settle down?"

Angel's face took on a mischievous grin. "Now where would the fun in that be. I have my whole life ahead of me to settle down. Why should I deprive so many women of the pleasure of my company so soon? You'd have a riot on yer hands," he laughed, then winked at Willow when he knew the other man wasn't watching.

Willow averted her eyes, trying to ignore his obvious attempts at flirtation. < I can't believe this. I did not come back 200 years just to have my best friend's boyfriend flirt with me!>

Angelus signed his name, and with one last smile in Willow's direction, he walked out the front door. Willow let out the breath that she hadn't even realized she had been holding. She knew that she would inevitably run into Angel sometime, but she hadn't been prepared for it so soon. < Okay Willow, you need to avoid him.> It occurred to her now that she may have to figure out a way to save Angel from Spike without having any actual contact with him.

The officer took Willow's statement and a description of the man that had taken her belongings. Willow made it as specific as possible hoping to avoid any unnecessary suspicion toward an innocent man. Willow grinned when she realized the man she described looked exactly like Xander. < I hope Xander is okay!>

Willow was preoccupied when she left the jail. She was trying to decide whether or not to tell Spike about her chance encounter with Angel, when a voice came from behind her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks.

"Now, what would a beautiful lady such as yerself being doin' in a jail?" Willow turned to find Angel regarding her with a roguish smile. "Could it be that ya have been found guilty of stealin' men's hearts?"

Willow couldn't help but smile shyly at his obvious attempt to charm her, but she remained silent, afraid that her voice might betray her. < This isn't the Angel I know, but it's daytime so it isn't soulless Angelus either. Where is cryptic guy?>

Angel continued, casually strolling closer to her. "Or, perhaps someone stole yer voice? I am sure yer sweet sounds would be like gold to many a man."

Willow regained her composure, reminding herself that this was just Angel, her friend. "Isn't this why you were in jail in the first place? Flirting with a married woman?" she asked, waving her ring finger.

"Ah, well, ya see I was right. The voice of a nightingale," he teased, ignoring her question. "So now," he went on as he closed the distance between them.

"Tell me why ya were visitin' with the good constable."

"Uh, if you must know, I had some things stolen from me, and I was giving a description of the man."

"Ah, did ya now? I am sorry to hear that. Nothing of value I hope?"

"Just some of our things. Nothing you need to worry about, but I must be getting back. Spi, uh, William will be waiting for me." Willow turned and began walking toward the inn, but out of the corner of her eye she could see that he was following her.

"William? That would be yer husband then?"

Willow ignored him and kept walking. She needed more time to figure out the possible results of their meeting.

"What kind of husband lets his wife go to a place like that alone? Ya never know what kind of man may be hangin' about."

Willow tried not to give into his baiting, but she had to admit that she almost enjoyed his not-so-subtle attempts to enchant her. "I can take care of myself," she informed him without turning around.

"I am sure ya can, but a true gentlemen would always make sure of a lady's safety, as surely as a lady would at least favor her protector with her name."

They had nearly arrived at the inn now, so Willow turned to face Angel, much to his apparent delight. "Rose. *Mrs.* Rose Smith."

"Well then,*Rose,* it was me honor to escort ya home."

He took her hand and placed a lingering kiss on her ring.

Fearing that he might recognize the ring, she quickly pulled her hand away, which only appeared to please Angel more. When Willow thought perhaps he had taken her actions as a sign that he was affecting her, she felt her cheeks begin to redden. Dismayed, she quickly turned and fled into the inn.

If Willow had bothered turning back, she would have seen Angel watching her every move. "Interesting woman," he said softly to himself. Then he walked back the way they had come, whistling happily to himself.
 

~Part Five~

Willow spent the next few days in their room, afraid to venture outside in case she happened across Angelus again. She had left the room only to eat and to catch an occasional glimpse of the sun.

Spike and Willow didn't talk much when they were alone. The first couple of days it was incredibly uncomfortable as they each tried to have some privacy in the small room. She attempted to make small talk at first, but it was met with stony silence or looks that left no question that he was not enjoying their little slumber party. He at least agreed that she needed to avoid Angelus for now, although she suspected that he was more afraid that she would warn him away. The vampire later made sure that Willow knew that the people of Galway would suffer if Angelus should happen to leave town unexpectedly.

When she had gone to the common room that fourth morning for breakfast, she noticed innkeeper Fitzsimmons's wife grinning broadly at her. She brought Willow a pot of tea and toasted bread with butter and jam. "And how are ya young newlyweds today? We scarcely ever see ya so I assume that all is well."

Willow didn't catch on to her innuendo right away, simply replying, "Yes, thank you. We're fine."

"More than fine, I'd say!" The older woman laughed, taking the seat across from Willow. "You two young love birds only seem to leave yer room to eat, and yer husband rarely does that." She sighed deeply, caught up in her own memories. "Ah, I remember when Jon and I were first married. At it like rabbits, we were. Day and night! Scarcely stopped long enough to eat those first few years. Of course, then I got pregnant with Jon Jr., and then Colleen, Mary Margaret, and Ian, so that slowed us down a wee bit, but he can still curl me toes, just like when we were first married." She ended with a wink and stood back up. "I am just bustin' with happiness fer ya both. You are obviously well suited fer each other."

With that she hurried back behind the bar leaving Willow to wallow in embarrassment. After a moment the girl smiled to herself. < Curled her toes? Wow!>

Willow ate her breakfast slowly. She was in no hurry to spend the entire day cooped up with Spike again, but neither was she ready to go out and possibly run into Angelus. She just needed more time to figure out what to do, and then she had to find a way to convince Spike.

As she nursed a cup of tea, she allowed herself to think about Spike and their situation. She had been surprised so far at his reaction. Sure, he had been angry and had made a few threats that he was going to treat her like a pin cushion, but overall it hadn't been too bad. She had expected him to completely lose it, maybe break a few things < Yea! Like my neck!> but so far nothing. In the end she felt guilty, realizing that he probably was taking it out on his meals.

She spent the rest of that day, like the day before it, hiding in her room and trying to decide everyone's fate. Just when she thought she had found a path to the correct future, she would see the hidden dangers in it. Every choice seemed to have fatal flaws, as did the choice not to choose at all. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to decide a way that they could bring about Spike's desired results without killing Angel. Every time Willow thought she found a way to save him another problem would rear its ugly head. Could Buffy defeat the master without Angel's help? What about the Order of Taraka or even Spike and Drusilla? One possibility kept creeping into her mind, no matter how hard she tried to bury it. If she dusted Spike and Darla, it would save Angel and Drusilla and countless others, but she didn't want to kill anybody. < If I kill Spike, I will never get home!> Willow flipped over and buried her face in the pillow to muffle a scream. "I wish I knew the spell so I could just bop Spike over the head and take him back, and end this whole nightmare!"

It was several hours later when Willow finally came to a decision, and she waited for Spike's return to tell him.

Just before dawn he returned to find Willow awake and waiting for him.

"You will be happy to know that no people were killed in the making of my breakfast this morning," Spike told her as he strolled through the door.

"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "How did you ever manage to control yourself?"

He ignored her sarcasm. "Actually, it's easier that I thought it would be not to completely empty these prehistoric potpies of every last drop of blood." Spike threw his arms out to his sides and shouted at the ceiling, "I mean, come on people, it's not like soap and water haven't been invented yet!"

Willow giggled in spite of herself. It was the most he had said to her in over two days.

"I guess I was spoiled after eating all you Americans. I gotta hand it to you people though, I don't understand your bloody politics, or the purpose behind American Football with all that padding they wear, but you keep your necks quite clean!"

< Great! He is in a good mood, good for him anyway.> Willow braced herself and interrupted him quickly. "I have a solution to our little problem, Spike."

"Mmm? Do, tell. I'm all tingly with anticipation," he said straight faced, taking a seat across from her on the bed.

Willow inhaled sharply and then blurted it all out at once. "What we are going to do is this: You will not kill Angel or Angelus, and for this, um, favor I will agree to remain in this past for 50-whatever years to guarantee that William the Bloody is turned, either by Darla or yourself, and that is what we are going to do."

Spike's pursed his lips as he took in what she had said.

"You sound awfully confident, my wee virgin." He pretended to consider her scenario for a moment before smirking. "Sorry to rain on your little girl scout parade, but no. Angel must die, by my hand, remember? Now, since you seem to be incapable of making the correct decision, I will make it for you."

Willow became nervous as a familiar evil grin returned to his face. "I do like part of your plan though, and I am delighted that you are happy to stay awhile, because that is exactly what we are going to do. I will kill Angel, although I have yet to decide just how, and then I will take care of my own changing."

"You know," he continued, "I haven't used a spike in a long time, and with it being my namesake and all, I thought perhaps I would give it a shot again, for old times' sake. I may be a little rusty though, so it could take a while for him to actually die!" He was practically giddy with the excitement of planning his nemesis's death.

"Spike, just give me a chance. Please?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide her eagerness. When he didn't continue with his graphic description of how he was going to kill Angel, she went on. "Think about it.

If Angel isn't vamped, then all your problems are solved, well except that whole thing about him being your sire and everything, but we can work around that.

Consider the possibilities! You could change Dru yourself and, uh, maybe if you didn't torture her the way Angel did she wouldn't be so, um, sanity challenged."

Spike quietly stood up and faced the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

Willow wasn't sure whether or not to go on. She didn't want to push him too hard and run the risk of making him angry. < Come on Willow, don't wimp out now!> She went to Spike's side and stood closely to him.

His eyes flashed a warning to her, but she could tell that he was thinking about it. All the possibilities were running through his mind now. "Spike," she said meekly. "She will never even know Angelus, and you won't have to worry about them again. You won't have to wonder if she is thinking about him when she is with you!. Personally, I think that's a pretty good deal."

Spike's hands flew out and grabbed her by the shoulders, "Watch it little one!" he growled at her. "I am not some simple schoolboy who can't see through your obvious attempts to get what you want!"

He let go of her and shoved her away roughly, suddenly confused by her ideas. He studied her face for a moment, trying to figure out what she was really up to. "But what about, 'We need Angel to save out pathetic skins from the Master', and all that other crap?"

< Oh, why did he have to ask that?> "I have figured out a way around that, I hope."

"Willow, enough of all the cloak and daggers, just tell me the whole scenario."

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind. You will just have to trust me because I don't want to go through all this for nothing!" She had decided it was best not to let him know that she hoped to contact the current watcher and explain things to him. Willow was going to try to use the prophecies to their advantage. If she handled everything properly, she could turn the experiences that she had at the Hellmouth into prophecies, and the result would be that Buffy and the Slayerettes would be well prepared for the upcoming events.

Spike just shrugged. He didn't really care whether or not she had a plan for the future, but he was still surprised that she would take these kinds of chances.

"And what about Buffy and Angel? Are you going to keep the Hellmouth's version of Romeo and Juliet apart?"

Willow chewed on her lower lip. This was the hardest part for her. She hated the thought of taking Angel away from Buffy, but she also thought that this was what Buffy would want her to do. Angel could have the normal life here that Darla had taken away from him, and countless lives would be saved. Willow had to continually remind herself that Buffy wouldn't miss him in her new future because she would never have the chance to meet him. The girl despised having to make this decision, and she knew she would probably feel guilty about it for the rest of her life, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind. Willow had made her choice, and now she needed to be strong.

"What does it matter?" she said coldly. " If you kill him they won't be together. Not much of a choice. But, if you can think of a way to keep Angelus out of Dru's life and let Angel and Buffy be together then I'd love to hear it. Although, I never really thought of you as the cupid type!"

"I don't give a damn about those two," he said as he slowly approached her. " I just can't figure out what is going on in that sweet little head of yours."

"You'll just have to trust me, and in about 50 years you will find out when we go home. And, um, there *is* one more thing. If you even touch Angelus, to kill him, or vamp him, or, or whatever, I will leave, and not only will you be stuck here all alone, but I will make sure that you never get a chance to meet Dru. No matter what it takes! Understand?"

"Are you threatening me, love?"

"I hope so. I am kinda new at this whole intimidation thing."

Spike closed in on Willow, wearing his best sneer. Willow prepared herself for his wrath, but "I'm going to get some sleep," was all he said.

Willow was confused. "But, what about . . ."

"I *need* to sleep," he repeated and began taking off his clothes, knowing that not only would that shut her up, but she would probably leave the room as well.

"I'll go get some breakfast," she mumbled when Spike was down to just his pants. "You know, that's not very fair. Maybe when I want some privacy I'll just start taking off my clothes too!"

Instantly she realized how stupid that had sounded, and she prepared herself for some sort of sexual retort from Spike.

He watched the young girl as she rolled her eyes in disgust at her own words. "Darling, if you ever need help taking off your clothes all you have to do is ask, but I can't guarantee that I would give you any privacy!" he laughed as Willow shut the door behind her.

Spike sat on the bed and considered everything that she had said and weighed his options. He wondered whether she would follow through on her threat to leave. "Damn!" he shouted at the walls. "I bet that red-haired little nymph would go through with it too!" Now it was Spike's turn to agonize over choices.

Willow wandered down the hall toward the inn's common room to have some breakfast. She was still a little edgy from her discussion with Spike, and she wondered if he would agree. "If he doesn't," she said quietly to herself, "I will have to live up to my threat and leave town on my own." Her stomach tightened at the thought of being alone for so long. "Don't think about it Willow! He will see that I am right." < God, please let him agree!>

Willow took her usual seat at a table in the corner, and had just started to pour some tea when a voice caused her to look up.

"Ah, ya see now, I knew ya weren't a dream."

Angel was standing before her, looking every ounce the handsome rogue, and for a moment the sight of him took her breath away. "Good morning Angel-us," she finally managed.

The young Irishman was pleasantly surprised that she remembered his name. "Mornin', Rose. I was begin'in to wonder if ya really existed. I have spent hours wanderin' by this place, hopin' to see ya again." He sat down across from her without waiting for an invitation.

"Eatin' alone?"

"I was. William is, uh, busy this morning."

"Well, we can't have a beautiful woman dinnin' alone, now can we?"

Willow discovered that she was becoming nervous around Angel. < Don't be stupid Willow, it's just Angel!> But as she sat across from him, she found herself studying his face and the smile that seemed to come so naturally to him. Sometimes she thought that she could have counted the times she saw Angel really smile on one hand. It was already becoming too easy to think of him as someone else. Willow noticed he was grinning at her with an oddly-pleased look on his face.

"I'm sorry," Willow said quietly. "I'm staring, aren't I? You just remind me of someone I knew back in America, except you're a little, um, livelier."

"An old boyfriend perhaps?" he teased, grinning broadly. < He has a gorgeous smile. I don't remember ever seeing Angel smile like that at me before.> "Yes. My best friend's boyfriend, to be exact."

"Ya must be missin' yer home, family and friends, then?"

He watched as the young woman's face darkened, and she nodded her agreement. Angelus instantly regretted making her sad and had a strong desire to see her smile again.

"Angelus!" Mrs. Fitzsimmons' voice boomed from behind the bar. "Ya need to be leav'n *Mrs.* Smith alone. She's a happily married woman, and the last thing she needs is a scoundrel like you botherin' her!"

Willow opened her mouth to try to explain herself, but before she could get the words out Angelus was on his feet. He sauntered over to the harried woman, wearing what Willow guessed was his most charming smile. "Now, there is no need to be jealous Caroline. Ya know that you will always be first in me heart, and if ya ever choose to leave that husband of yers, ya know where to find me."

Willow was surprised to see the older woman's face begin to redden before she shooed Angel away with a bar towel.

"Enough of yer sweet talk, young man."

Then her face became serious again, and her voice softened, "Now ya just be mindin' yer manners around our Rose. She's a lady and doesn't have much experience around men of yer kind Angelus."

He returned to Willow's table and gave her a reassuring wink. "Don't ya worry about our Rose. I have a feelin' she's very used to fending off advances from admiring suitors, whether wanted or unwanted."

Willow tried not to smile at his words but found it impossible under his provocative gaze. She gestured to the tea which he refused with a shake of his head.

< Change the subject Willow!> "So, tell me about yourself Angelus," she managed in a poised manner.

"Me? Not much to tell, really. I would much rather talk about you."

"I am sure you would," she teased. "But that is not going to happen right now, so we might as well talk about you." Willow's eyes sparkled. She loved turning the tables on him, and Willow could have sworn that she saw him squirm, just slightly!

Angelus threw his hands up in the air in surrender.

"Alright! You win!" he chuckled, and then he began to tell Willow about his family and his early youth in Galway. He slowly wove a tale filled with both humorous anecdotes and touching images of his life in this beautiful town on the bay. Willow knew that he was being very selective in what he chose to tell her, making sure that he never truly let her see the real man, but she didn't push him. < Everyone has secrets it seems.>

Instead, she listened attentively as he painted a portrait of a wonderful and happy childhood with a loving family. She couldn't help but notice he only mentioned his father in passing, while doting on his mother and two sisters. Willow listened to his lilting voice, enveloped in its warmth and captivated by the visions it created, and as he talked, she found herself studying him, memorizing every line of his face and every gesture he made. < Geez he is gorgeous! Ooh, bad Willow!>

As he spoke, Angelus couldn't help but stare at the beautiful red-haired woman across from him. She was so different from the other young women in this town. She looked so small and fragile and innocent at first, but when he looked into her eyes he caught glimpses of a mysterious woman who was both vivacious and intelligent, and yet had something to hide. When he looked deeper he also saw pain, but he couldn't tell where it came from. < What is she trying to keep from me?> He found himself telling her more than he had planned, but he managed to keep the more difficult parts of his life private. He also started wondering about her childhood, and her life before she came here, but mostly he wondered what her husband was like. < I hope he realizes what a lucky man he is. Or, is he the cause of her pain?>

As Willow continued to listen, almost hypnotized by Angelus's lilting voice, something began to tickle at the back of her mind. For every difference that she could find between Buffy's Angel and the one before her, she could find a similarity between the soulless Angelus and this prevamp one. She pushed the thoughts back down, not wanting them to bubble up and ruin the first time she had enjoyed herself since their arrival.

When Angel finally finished, they sat quietly for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Willow smiled warmly at him and saw her joy repeated in Angel's face.

She found herself wanting to run her fingers through his long hair and wondering if his lips were as soft as they appeared. < Oh no, Willow. You have to put a stop to this now, before it's too late for both of you! After all, this is Buffy's Angel.> She was ashamed that she could be so easily drawn in by his beguiling words and sensual smiles. < Dammit Spike! This is all your fault!>

Purposely Willow allowed herself draw the parallels that only moments before be she had struggled to ignore. In Sunnydale, his every action after losing his soul was designed to torture Buffy. He had attempted to orchestrate her demise by torturing and murdering her friends, as well as sadistically using Buffy's feelings for Angel to torment the slayer emotionally. And now, here he was, soul and all, seemingly pursuing her in the same calculating manner. < And you are eating it up, Willow.>

Willow let her shame build into a slow-burning anger, and she purposely began to add fuel to the fire by tossing on all of her pent-up anger and frustration from the last few days. Her anger at Spike for dragging her here and making so many lives depend upon her, her frustration for not being stronger and willing to do whatever it would take to make things right, and even her new-found self-loathing when she realized that she enjoyed Angelus's flirtations and the way it made her feel. Lastly, she added the guilt. Her guilt for betraying Oz and Buffy, if even for only a split second in her mind, was like gasoline on the fire, and it burned with a white-hot intensity that helped her to do what she now knew she had to do. She chose her words carefully.

"Angelus, why do you seem to make it a point to flirt with a married woman?"

His smile became a little cocky, but he noticed a tone in her voice that he hadn't heard before. < I have done something to make her angry.>

"Is it possible that you know married women are safe, and that you will never have to follow through with the promises that your eyes and every word so easily give?"

Angel sat back in his chair, confusion creeping into his mind. He didn't understand where her sudden coldness had come from. "Rose, I never meant ...."

"Stop!" Willow demanded, forcing herself to finish what she had started. "I know, you never *mean* to lead women on. Well, I don't believe that for a moment. Every word that comes out of your mouth is designed for seduction. But, you know what? I am not some toy that you can take away from another man once in a while just to boost your, uh, your ego!" < Ooh! Buffy would have liked that one. Oprah too!>

The smile was now completely gone from his face and for an instant Willow saw the dark, brooding, and regretful man that she knew from home-- more fuel for the fire.

< What's an ego?> "Rose, I'm sure that if ya just got to know me a little better ..."

" I already know you, better than you think. Your kind are always looking for something better, more exciting, never seeing what is right in front of you. < Ouch, Willow! Was that meant for Angel or Xander, or maybe a little of both?> You better be careful, Angel, or that craving for excitement of yours is likely to get you killed, or, or worse!" < Oh no, I called him Angel! Maybe he didn't notice.>

"Now, if you don't mind, I would like to have my breakfast in peace, without being stared at like I'm a piece of meat."

Angel stood up, still reeling from the bitterness in her voice and at a rare loss for words. He looked into her eyes and momentarily saw the woman that had caught his attention a few days earlier. The woman who seemed to be in a constant state of awe at life, but then her mask quickly went back up, and he saw only a cold facade.

When Willow wouldn't hold his gaze, he said softly, "I'm sorry, Rose," and left.

When she was sure he was gone, Willow picked up her tea cup trying to occupy herself, but she had to quickly set it back down because her hands were shaking. "I'm sorry, Angel," she whispered. "But this will be easier on everyone if we don't get too close, no matter what Spike decides." < I have a feeling this is going to be a long and lonely life.>

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