Spike entered the pub cautiously. His eyes quickly scanned the clientele, making sure that not only was Angelus not there, but also that his human self wasn't there. The blonde vampire didn't think he had ever been in this particular drinking establishment before when he was alive, but he couldn't be sure. Seeing no sign of William the Bloody or the other vampire, Spike took a seat at the bar.

While Spike waited for the barkeep's attention, he considered the two women who were constantly in his thoughts. He had contemplated his relationship with Dru a great deal after Willow had labeled it merely an obsession and refused to believe that what he felt for Drusilla was anything but true love. From the moment Spike saw her, blood still dripping from the puncture wounds on her neck, he wanted her. At first it was purely a lust thing as her virgin blood called out to him, but that didn't last long since her life was not the only thing that Angelus took from her. The younger vampire watched her blossom into a beautiful, merciless, and cold-blooded killer, and as she quickly came to her own in their dark world, William fell in love with her. Drusilla, on the other hand, was far too busy with Angelus to notice him, and, at that point, Spike would never have betrayed Angelus. It was not until after their sire had left to wander Europe on his own for a while that they became close.

The blonde demon remembered with great fondness how he had tied the raven-haired beauty up, tortured her a little, already hearing from Angelus that she liked a good teasing, until she returned his affections. It was quite a whirlwind courtship, and from that point on they had been inseparable. Every time he thought about those early nights Spike found himself grinning from pale ear to pale ear. Then the smile would fade because sometimes he missed her so much it was painful, and not the good kind of pain either. He would deaden the ache by getting more than a little drunk and reminding himself that they would be together again soon.

So, *no,* it was not obsession he decided. It was love, at least for a vampire it was. But, Willow was right about one thing, he had finally admitted to himself. His quest to get Drusilla back did border a bit on being obsessive. Changing history to bring back a dead love was a tad radical and not his usual way of handling loss, not his style really. Nevertheless, if he had to, Spike knew he would do it again. < I would just have to handle Willow a little differently next time!> he informed himself. < I completely underestimated her.> It never even occurred to him that if he had a chance to do it all again, not to include Willow along on his little journey.

Willow. The fiery redhead was a mystery to him, more than Dru ever was. Drusilla was easy to figure out in comparison. The beautiful vampire always wanted constant attention from every man or demon in sight. Dru liked to be teased, a spot of mutual bloodletting here and there, and someone to take care of her. Sure, she liked to come off as a strong, modern vampiress that needed to be in control, but inside she wanted to be coddled like a baby. What she wanted was to be treated like a princess and Spike was more than happy to oblige.

But Willow was more difficult to understand. Unlike Drusilla, she was strong on the inside, where it counted. She was stubborn, opinionated, and never wanted to be given anything; she wanted to earn it. And, in spite of what Spike had said to her before, some of his favorite memories were of trying to teach her how to cheat at cards. The girl seemed so sweet and innocent and yet took a great deal of delight at the thought of lying and getting away with it. Her face would light up any time she was actually able to dupe the vampire or call his bluff.

Spike finally admitted to himself that he missed his time-traveling companion. He missed the way she blushed whenever he stared at her and the way she stammered and babbled if she got really flustered. He longed to tease her and watch her furrow her brow as she tried to think of a comeback. True, she had changed during their years apart, but he thought he could bring the old Willow back and they could be happy again. All he needed was time, and that they had in abundance.

Lastly, he remembered how she tasted, how her skin felt beneath his lips. He had never planned to feed from her, but he still felt his actions were necessary in order to stop a bad situation from spiraling out of control. Nevertheless he liked it. No, he loved it and craved it. Her beauty and intelligence, passion and innocence combined to make a most potent and heady elixir, and every drop he had had since paled in comparison. Even as he admitted it to himself, he knew he would never know her delectable essence again.

"What can I get ya?" a deep voice asked, bringing Spike out of his reverie. He lifted his head out of his hands and looked at the older man. "Pint of bitter and *Rose,* please."

The tavern owner didn't even blink. He started pouring the dark liquid before telling the vampire, "We don't sell roses, 'ere. This is a pub, not a bloomin' flower shop!"

Spike stared coldly at him, but kept his tone very civil. "I *know* Rose lives and works here. I would like to speak with her, if you would be so kind as to let her know that I am here."

The man slammed the glass down in front of him. "And just who the 'ell might you be?"

"Her husband, William. Tell her that her husband is here to see her." Spike enjoyed the look of shock that possessed the barkeep's face.

"She said you were dead," he said, eyeing the blonde stranger suspiciously.

Spike smirked as a thousand one-liners crossed his mind all at once, but he restrained himself. "Just tell her William is here," he said firmly and got up to take a seat at an empty and private table in the corner.

The older man finally nodded and walked to the back.
***

Willow sat on her bed, trying to gather her courage before facing Spike again. She wasn't frightened to be with him, but she needed strength to maintain her convictions. It would be too easy to fall back into the old ways. The ageless redhead knew that she could simply choose to team back up with Spike for the time that they had left in this past. Then she wouldn't have to spend those days alone. It was incredibly tempting, and a large part of her desperately wanted things between them to be like they were in Ireland, but Willow just couldn't trust him again.

Willow had done a lot of thinking since their talk the other night, and she had to admit to herself that a lot of the things that he had said were true. His biting her probably had saved her from a worse fate at the hands of Angelus or Darla, and she knew deep down that if the blonde vampire hadn't come along when he did, there was no way of knowing what could have happened. She was also starting to realize that she couldn't hold herself responsible for fixing all the wrongs of the world. Nothing that had happened was her fault, and it would have occurred whether she was there or not. Of course, Willow had hoped to avoid Angelus's being turned with Spike's help, but the vampire had had other plans. Sure, the reason for this whole adventure was just a twisted revenge plot of Spike's and an attempt to have the love of his life back. Nevertheless, Willow knew that in some ways the blonde demon was right. The only way to be sure that he would get the Drusilla he fell in love with back was to follow the past as closely as possible. Plus, a nagging feeling was always with the once-hacker that she too might be capable of such a deception in order to bring back a loved one. Would she put limits on what she would do to save Oz or Buffy? she reminded herself.

It was the lies that she couldn't get past. Willow could almost understand why he thought they were necessary. She had, on several occasions, threatened to either leave Spike or make sure that he never met Dru if he ever hurt Angelus. So, maybe in some ways she had forced his hand. She just didn't know what to think anymore, and it wasn't easy to give up all of the guilt and resentment when they had been her only companions for a very long time.

With a soul-rattling sigh, she pulled her weary body to its feet and looked in the mirror. The petite redhead almost recognized the woman in the mirror. It was almost as if under all the layers of pain that she wore like makeup, underneath was the Willow she wanted to be again. She closed her green eyes and let herself remember the happy times, memories that she had locked away during her nightmarish ride from Galway. When she opened them, she could see that a few more layers had fallen away, and a little more of the girl she once was shone through. She wasn't ready to forgive him, though, not for all of the lies or for her ability to trust that died that night along with Angelus. However, she was ready to put some of her bitterness aside for now, so that someday the former hacker could return to those that she once loved and trusted. Someday she would be able to look in the mirror again and smile at herself.

Willow finished composing herself and grabbed a shawl before she went down.
***

By the time she entered the main pub, the news had traveled around the patrons that the blonde stranger was Rose's long-lost husband. The smoky room was full of regulars, almost all of which knew Rose from the many daylight hours they spent there, and all of them were watching Spike. Even George and Simon, who were sitting at the table next to him, examined him with overprotective eyes. The young-looking barmaid had told them little about her past and when pressed had only said that her husband had died. While it was the truth, Willow had no idea how she was going to explain his sudden reappearance in her life.

Spike could feel their eyes boring into him, but with the patience that can only come from living for centuries, he ignored them. His gaze found Willow's when she finally entered the room, and instantly everyone's focus shifted to her. She hesitated for only a moment before walking up to her 'husband', but she could feel her cheeks reddening from all of the attention. "William," she said coolly. There wasn't going to be any pretense of a loving couple this time. That playfulness was long gone.

"It's time, Rose," he told her calmly. Spike tried to read her mood, but her face was expressionless.

Willow simply nodded, knowing that tonight was the night that William the Bloody would be vamped by Angelus.

"I thought you might like to tag along and see what your favorite night stalker was like before, that is if everything happens as it did in the past."

"And if it doesn't?" Willow asked quietly and sat down across from him, still aware that they were being watched. She decided not to inform Spike at this time that she had already had the 'pleasure' of meeting William.

"I'll do what I have to do," he said with a shrug, obviously not too worried about it. "But we have some time so I thought maybe we could play a little game," he told her with a sly smile.

Willow furrowed her brow. She didn't like that sound of that. "Game? Haven't we already done enough of that for a lifetime?"

Spike's smile broadened when he saw the familiar crease on her forehead, then stuck his hand in his pocket, pulling out a well-worn pack of cards. "I am talking about poker, wife, for old time's sake. What did you think I meant, Red?"

His grin told her that he intentionally was being suggestive...just like old times. All of the sudden she felt like that shy and naive, 17-year-old girl again. "Oh, I don't know, Sp..., uh, William. I really haven't played in years. Not since...." her voice trailed off as she remembered the last time they had played was the night Darla embraced Angelus.

The blonde vampire knew what she was thinking but didn't want to walk down memory lane anymore tonight. "Well then, we wouldn't want you to get rusty," he said as he shuffled and dealt the cards. "After all, you were my most promising student. Of course, you were my only student...."

Willow didn't reply immediately. She wasn't sure she was ready to sit across from him and pretend like nothing had ever happened, but his tone was annoying her. "Fine! If it'll shut you up, I'll play!" she told him haughtily as she grabbed her cards. "Besides, I thought you said it was painful to put up with my company," the young-appearing woman said sarcastically, never looking up from her cards.

Spike leaned back in his chair, studying his hand. "What can I say?" he replied in a serious tone. "I'm a bloody masochist!"
***

When the game was over, Willow was smiling. She had to admit that she missed playing cards, even with Spike. "Thanks for not letting me win. I don't think I could have handled anymore of your pity."

The vampire was very pleased with himself. He saw a familiar light in Willow's eyes every now and then throughout the game, and he was satisfied that, eventually, the fiery redhead would be back to normal. "I told you before, Rose. I don't do pity."

Willow noticed the scar on his jaw for the first time and was surprised that it was still visible. She gestured to her own jaw line. "The scar...why is it still there?" she asked sheepishly.

His hand went to the cross-like welt. Spike was puzzled that it was still there himself. "How the hell should I know? Did you put a curse on the cross or something?" He hated the thought of not knowing how he looked. Although he would never admit it, the blonde vamp was more than a little conceited about his appearance. William knew he was handsome before he was turned, and as a vampire he had always assumed that he was still quite appealing to the fairer sex-- before he put on his game face anyway. Yet, he had also been told on several occasions that even his demonic visage wasn't too hard on the eyes.

"No," she told him innocently. "It was just your average plain old vampire-repellent cross. I would tell you I was sorry that I scarred you for, um, life, but then I would be lying."

"Are you always this honest, Red?"

"Hey, you're the one who told me that I was a horrible liar." Willow was surprised at how easily they and fallen back to their teasing banter; it just seemed natural. "It is probably just a side-effect of *your* spell."

Spike looked at his timepiece, suddenly forgetting his appearance. "It's getting close," he said, with more than a hint of excitement to his voice. "So, do you want to watch the making of your husband, Rose?"

Willow's eyes fell to the table. The pretty redhead didn't know how to feel about William's impending death. She wanted to feel sorry for him, but how could she when he was sitting right in front of her, celebrating it like it was a birthday! "Is it safe with Angelus around?"

Spike stood up and held his hand out to her. "Don't worry. I know how not to be seen."

Willow ignored his offered hand and stood up, putting her shawl over her head to cover her hair. "William and I are going for a walk," she announced to everyone who was still staring at her. Seeing the puzzled yet concerned looks on the faces of Simon, George, and the owner, she flashed them her sweetest smile. "Don't worry about me, lads. I'll see you later." She walked out the front door and waited for Spike to lead the way.

The blonde vampire couldn't help himself as the eyes of many men watched him with confusion and more than a tiny bit of jealousy. "Don't wait up!" he told them with a cocky grin and a wink, closing the door behind him.
***

They walked without speaking for quite some time, Willow following his lead.

"We're not going home yet, are we?" Willow asked suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence as they strolled through town.

Spike pursed his lips but kept looking straight ahead. "How did you know?"

"Spike, I'm not stupid. It is pretty obvious that you mean to stick around at least until Drusilla is turned, if not longer."

"We may be extending are honeymoon a *little* bit longer, Red, that's true, but just long enough...."

Willow stopped and turned to face him. "No, Spike!" she interrupted. "Not again! There will be no more lies between us. No more padding the truth for sweet, little, innocent Willow, understand?" She poked a finger at his chest, driving her point home. "The only way it will work is if we are *both* totally honest with each other, starting *now*!"

Spike's face was expressionless as he weighed her words. Life had just begun to return to her, and he didn't want to dampen that spark already. After a moment, the vampire decided she was right. He did need to be honest with her from now on. "We are not going back until after Dru is turned. I need to make sure William knows what to do and gets her away from that wanker before it's too bloody late," he told her pointedly. "Not until I am positive that everything if spot on, are we going back. Otherwise, this will all have been a massive waste of time!"

Willow started walking again. Nothing he had said surprised her, since she had pretty much figured out his plan years ago. The redhead was a little surprised, however, that he had told her so readily. "I understand," she said coolly. What else could she say? It wasn't like she had any say in the matter anymore, as if she ever did.

"So, since we are playing Truth or Dare here, it's your turn," he said, trying to break some of the tension and also because he needed to know. "Truth, Willow. Did you fall in love with Angelus?"

Willow stopped, dead in her tracks, to stare at Spike. She could feel her face flushing and she started stammering like a schoolgirl. "Angelus? Well, um... I think I would prefer the dare." she chided herself.

Spike's face was once again unreadable. "You're the one who insisted on no more lies, love. If you want me to treat you like the 74-year-old woman that you are, then you need to start acting like one."

< I hate it when he is right!> she groaned inwardly. Willow took a moment to search herself for the truth, but she didn't need to look far. She knew the answer and always did. "Yes, Spike. I think I really did."

"Sorry," he said under his breath, just loud enough for her to understand. But he didn't know what exactly he was apologizing for-- the fact that he had in some way aided in the death of her love, or that she had fallen for the annoying Irishman in the first place.

They walked in silence a bit more. Willow steps becoming heavier as she finally admitted to herself that she had fallen in love with Angelus. In all this time, she had never thought the words, let alone said them out loud. She was always too concerned with betraying Oz and Buffy to realize her own feelings, and suddenly she was left wondering what would have happened if she had given in to her desires for Angelus, or spoken to him about her feelings. The handsome Irishman had cared about her, and she knew that. But would anything have turned out differently? < If only Spike hadn't.... No, Willow...don't think about it!> She stopped herself from going down that worn path again. Spike *did,* and she needed to deal with it, finally. But seeing Angelus tonight was going to be painful. She told herself that her Angelus, the gentle rogue that had stolen her heart, was gone. The thing that she would see tonight only wore his image, but it didn't feel that simple to her. It wasn't as easy to separate the man from the monster as she thought it would be.

Her musing were cut short when Spike announced they were almost there. Willow had hardly noticed that they had come to the more 'colorful' part of town, but she felt safe with Spike. She did, however, adjust the shawl that she had been wearing over her head, hoping that it would help conceal her identity if necessary. On a side street, they stood next to a dirty window and watched with mixed feelings as history was being made.
 

~Chapter Seventeen~

William sat in a dingy, rundown little pub in a less desirable part of London, getting drunk beyond all reason. He sat there, still wearing his military uniform and complaining to anyone who would listen.

"Can you believe it?" he slurred. "They demoted me for being too good at my job! Bunch of bloody wankers...." he droned into his glass. He swallowed the last of its contents before shoving it toward the man behind the counter. "It's a war, isn't it? War means death, so how can I be too good at killing?" he asked the whole room, who thought it best to ignore him. "Come on, it's not like I am a murderer or a rapist or anything that horrific," he mumbled to himself. In fact, he had never knowingly killed a woman or a child. He was just a soldier who took his work very seriously.

"Stupid Queensbury Rules....You know, you practically have to ask their permission before you kill someone these days. 'It's more sporting this way' they said. 'Just because it's a war, doesn't mean we can't be gentlemen,' " he said sarcastically, making snobby faces and mimicking an upper-class accent. He took a long drag from his cigar and blew a couple of smoke rings before continuing. "Now, if you ask me, which no one did, that is no way to win a war! You have to take 'em by surprise, sneak up on 'em while they are taking a crapper, or slit their throats while they are asleep. Don't you agree?" he asked the surly man behind the bar.

When all he received was a grunt for an answer, the soldier remained silent for a while. William the Bloody remembered his days fighting the French in Spain during the Peninsular War with some fondness. He had risen quickly in the ranks until his superiors noticed that he was enjoying the killing aspect of the war a little too much, taking great pride in his technique and number of dead, but not following the 'rules' of modern, civilized warfare. As a result, he was demoted so many times that his rank became meaningless, but neither that nor punishment seemed to curtail his merciless ways. In the end, William had just walked off one night, knowing the punishment for desertion would be severe if he were ever found. A man with his background was quickly able to find work as a mercenary, but soon he tired of the heat and the 'foreigners', so he returned to London hoping to find new opportunities.

"So," he continued suddenly, his voice much too loud for the quiet room, "I decided to put my talents to use elsewhere. I just walked away one night and never came back. I became a mercenary, that's what I did!" He searched his coat pockets for another cigar. William continued to wear his uniform even though he hadn't been a soldier for many months because it had great pockets and he thought he looked damn good in it, too.

"So, ya like to kill, do ya?" a dark-haired man who was sitting in a shadowy corner asked him.

William spared a quick glance in his direction before returning his attention to his next drink. "I didn't mind it. It was my job, but I was pretty bloody good at it, I must admit." Then the destined-to-be Spike started laughing, almost falling off his chair. "The lads in my regiment even started calling me William the Bloody, which is a little long for my liking, but fitting nevertheless."

"What part did ya like the best?"

William turned to stare at the strange man who was asking the questions. "What?" he asked, getting irritated by the cockiness in the other man's voice.

"What part of the killin' did ya like the most?" the stranger repeated, getting up and taking an empty seat next to the drunken soldier.

William surveyed the enemy quickly, to him every stranger was a potential threat, and this man seemed a little too well dressed and eloquent for the dump they were in. He decided to see if he could shock him, just for a laugh.

After another gulp from his glass, William stared the other man straight in the eye. "I liked the look in their eyes when they took their last breaths... the panic, the terror... realizing that you hold their future in your hands. You never feel quite as alive as when you are staring into the face of death. Well, as long as it's on someone else's face, that is," he added with a smirk.

The stranger didn't even bat an eye, just kept staring at him with a cryptic smile. "I'd ask you if you had ever killed anyone before," Spike continued, quickly noting the pale man's fashionable clothing. "But, by the looks of you, I'd guess you have led a bit of a sheltered life."

The other man's expression still didn't change, and the soldier finally noticed he wasn't drinking his ale. The stranger was beginning to unnerve him a bit, so William changed his tone. "You should join up and go to Spain to fight the bloody frogs, too. Lord knows you could use some sun!"

With that joke, Angelus actually laughed and bought the human another drink, brushing aside a feeling that he had met this person before. At first he was just going to wait until William left, follow him, and then drain the drunkard, thinking him just a braggart. Then, as Angelus talked to him more, he realized that the soldier had a real passion for killing, and his deviant sense of humor made the vampire conclude that they could probably make a good team. So he decided to change him instead. He could use another companion in chaos, there were just some things that you prefer to do with another man, and he could always use someone to hunt with when Darla was in one of her moods.

"A man with gifts such as yerself is wasted in the military," Angelus told him plainly. "I could use someone like ya in me line of work."

Spike stared into the man's cold, dark eyes as he took another puff from his cigarette, purposely blowing the smoke directly into his face. "And what line of work would that be?"

The smoke naturally didn't bother Angelus; in fact, he liked William's audacity. "Chaos. Murder. Mayhem. Interested?"

William thought for a moment. He somehow knew that this chance meeting would change his life completely. The way he saw it, he had three choices-- death, prison, or a life of crime. He thought that by taking Angelus's offer he was choosing the latter, but very soon he would find out just how wrong he was. The mercenary drained the last of his pint glass, stubbed out his cigar and stood up. He was ready to follow Angelus anywhere. "Yeah," he said pointedly. "I'm interested."

****

The two time travelers watched from outside as William followed Angelus out the door and down a dark street. Spike heard his companion's sharp intake of breath when she saw Angelus and knew that this couldn't be easy for her. He, on the other hand, was almost giddy with happiness. After all these years of waiting, the next step in his scheme to get Drusilla back was almost complete. He could almost feel his dark princess's teeth sinking into his pale flesh already.

Willow was having trouble staying put, knowing what was about to happen. Seeing Angelus again, even from a distance, was almost too much to bear. She wasn't ready to deal with it right now, so she focused on William instead. Finally she looked up at Spike, her eyes pleading and bright with unshed tears. "How can you just stand there and let yourself be murdered...watch yourself become what you are? You could stop this now and live a normal life."

"Why the hell would I want to do that?" he demanded. He was disappointed that she wasn't as excited about his changing as he was. he told himself. And worse yet, he found himself wondering if she might purposely interfere with his plans as she had once threatened. For the first time since the beginning of this little escapade, he found himself doubting her intentions.

The vampire looked down on her with cold eyes and spoke bitterly. "Understand this, Willow. I don't want to be saved, not by you or anyone! So get those thoughts out of your head right now!" he commanded "I like what I am...I enjoy being a vampire." He took a step away from her and found himself desperately wanting a cigarette. < I wish they would hurry up and invent the damn things already...cigars just aren't the same! > After a moment he turned back and added, "I realize to you I am nothing, no better than an animal...some rabid dog that needs to be put down...." He didn't fully realize until that moment how much her opinion of him mattered.

Willow was quiet and wrapped her arms tightly around herself before slowly starting to head back toward her tavern home, with Spike beside her. They were both silent, lost in their own thoughts.

"I don't think you're an animal," she said finally, without looking at him. After a few more minutes of the silence, Willow spared the blonde demon a quick glance out of the corner of her eye. His face was dark and his features tight. The silence was becoming unbearable to her, and finally she realized that she had had enough of that for one lifetime. It was time to move on.

"I take that back, actually," she told him nonchalantly. "You *are* an animal...a dog."

Spike stopped to look at her, incredulous, but she went on, nonplused. "You remind me of one of those big dogs that slobbers all the time. You know , the ones that look like they have fangs...."

"Are you saying I remind you of a bloody poodle or something, *Pet*?" Spike was bewildered, not really sure yet how to take her words.

Willow started walking again, enjoying his confusion. She teased him over her shoulder. "No, Spike, of course not. I am thinking of the *really* big, drooling dogs. Remember, I have seen you while you are sleeping and it is not a pretty sight. A bulldog! Yeah, you remind me of a British Bulldog!" Willow let her face break into a huge grin, and when she did she found a little more spring in her step.

The vampire laughed and sprinted to catch up with her. "Come on, love. You can do better than a bulldog! I was thinking maybe a Mastiff or a Pitbull...Rottweiler maybe?"

Willow shook her head, and they continued on down the streets of London, their voices echoing brightly on the damp cobblestones. "No," she continued. "Shitzu possibly...or Pekinese...."
 

~Chapter Eighteen~

Over the next couple of weeks, Spike and Willow saw each other only a few times, usually for just a quick game of cards or to share a beer. They both seemed to want things to return to normal between them, but it was a slow process when they were both still having trust issues. The two time travelers decided, without discussing it with each other, to take it slowly. They would have plenty of time to rebuild their friendship, or so they told themselves.

She was walking home late one afternoon, only minutes before sundown, when he called to her.

"Willow..." The voice was raspy and weak. "Willow...please...." It was coming from deep within the dark alleyway beside her pub.

"Spike? What kind of game are you playing?" she said loudly, peering deep into the shadows.

"Willow, in all the time you have known me, have I ever played a game, outside, during the day? I need your bloody help, don't I?"

She heard it this time. He was definitely in pain. Ignoring the little voice inside her head that was telling her it was just another one of Spike's games, Willow walked guardedly into the shadowy alley. "Spike? Where are you?" she called softly, not finding him anywhere.

"Down here...."

Willow looked down and found Spike partially hidden under some boxes. "What are you doing, Spike?" she sighed in exasperation.

"Willow, I am hurt and I need your help! So, if you don't mind, could you wipe that damned distrustful smirk off your face for one minute and give me a hand?" Spike groaned; uttering those words had caused him a great deal of pain.

Finally realizing that it wasn't a trick, Willow knelt beside the vampire and carefully pushed the boxes away. She didn't see anything wrong at first but refused to let her cynicism rise to the surface again, not yet anyway. "Spike, what's wrong? Why are you lying here in the gutter?"

"Stake," he managed through gritted teeth. "In my back...can't reach it myself." He shifted position slightly, causing a white-hot pain to jolt his entire body.

Willow inhaled sharply when she saw the thick piece of wood deeply embedded beneath his right shoulder blade. His shirt was crusted over with dried blood, but fresh blood was still slowly seeping from the wound. She touched it gingerly, trying to gauge its severity. "Spike, who did this? How long have you been like this?"

"It happened just before sunrise. Some dolt tried to rob me. When I fought back, he grabbed an old whiskey crate and hit me in the back with it. What an embarrassing way for a vampire like me to go-- by accident! I always thought it would be a slayer that would get me. Or you!"

Willow ignored him, but couldn't help wondering if he really thought she could be capable of killing him. "Sshhh...we have to get you out of here, Spike. The sun is almost down. Where do you live, or um, *not* live? Oh, never mind," she groaned in frustration. "Just tell me where you sleep!"

Spike managed a grin when the old Willow resurfaced momentarily. "Just a couple of blocks down the street...attic of an old warehouse."

They waited in silence for a few minutes until the sun's rays were completely gone, then Willow managed to help him home. 'Home' to Spike was the attic of a rarely used warehouse. He paid a nominal amount of rent for its use, and his only responsibility was to keep the rat infestation down to a minimum. The landlord never asked any questions as to his methods, which was good for all parties concerned, and it gave Spike a handy source for between-meal snacks.

Willow struggled under Spike's weight, but slowly they maneuvered the stairs and opened the door. In the darkness Willow was just able to discern the bed from the moonlight streaming in through one dirty round window on a far wall. Spike fell face first on his large bed with a painful moan. After stumbling around in the near darkness for several minutes, Willow finally found and lit some candles and oil lamps and placed them close to the bed so she could take a closer look at his injury.

She sat next to him, carefully removed his shirt, and examined the wound. "It's pretty deep, Spike," she stated matter of factly.

"Just get the damn thing out, would you?" His voice was harsh as he turned his head just enough to glare at her.

"Fine!" Willow forgot about being gentle and tried to grab the stake with her fingers and then her fingernails, digging deeply into the wound. Spike howled in agony and momentarily put on his game face. She pretended not to notice his change as she continued to try and get hold of the stake that was broken off just at skin level. But the large sliver of wood was blood slicked, and it was impossible for her to get a firm grip on it. "Don't suppose you have any tweezers, or pliers, or anything like that?"

The only response he managed was a guttural growl and a rolling of his eyes.

"I'll take that as a no." Willow thought for a moment, trying to think of any way of securely grabbing on to the stake. < What I wouldn't give for a Walmart right now...or any store that stayed open at night! > Only coming up with one possibility, she mentally reviewed her vampire lore and decided she was safe. "If you can't die...then you can't become a vampire. So...." she mumbled to herself as she lifted the necklace that bore the cross over her head and tossed it onto a pillow behind her.

"Willow...please...."

"Quit whining, Spike." She sounded like a mother chastising an over-tired toddler. "Well," the pretty redhead finally said, returning her attention to the injury. "No tweezers, no salad tongs, can't get it with my fingers, so that leaves only one thing...."

"Just do it! You are bloody killing me here!" He turned to glare at her again. "You know, I am starting to think that you are doing this on purpose!"

"Spike, I'll get it out if you'll just shut up and do what I say! Now stand here next to the bed," she commanded, directing him to face away from her as she knelt on its edge. Her face was directly level with the embedded stake now. "You may want to hold on to the bedpost, husband. This is gonna hurt!" Willow couldn't help smiling briefly at his alarmed and confused look.

< Okay, Willow...you can do this! Just don't think about it! > She slipped one arm around his chest as the other rested next to the wound, stretching the skin tightly and pulling it away from the shard of wood.

Spike stood there, in more pain than he could remember since an entire church fell on him, and wondered what Willow was up to. As her arm coiled around him, he readied himself, but nothing could have prepared him for what he felt next. Suddenly her warm lips were on his back, and his body tried to jerk away in reaction. < Wha...what the bloody hell is that girl doing? >

Willow tentatively put her mouth to the wound, testing to see if she would be able to grab it with her teeth, but the second she made contact with his cool skin, the vampire tried to pull away. The tiny redhead tightened her hold on him, pulling his body to her. She tried again, and this time was successfully able to fasten on to the offending stake with her front teeth. Spike's body shuddered, and he groaned as she attempted to remove it. It had barely budged when her teeth lost their grip. "Almost had it," she muttered, as she lowered her face to try again. Before he could protest, she once more enclosed the stake with her mouth, consciously ignoring the taste of his blood and the feel of his muscular body beneath her hands. Her fingers instinctively dug into Spike's chest as she drew him to her, willing him not to move away. Slowly Willow pulled her head away, and bit-by-bit the stake came with it.

His body was on fire. Never in all of his years had he felt any thing quite so erotic as this innocent woman's lips on his open wound. Her breath on his damaged nerve endings alone was enough to send him over the edge, but when he felt her teeth lightly graze his skin, it sent a shock wave of desire barreling through his whole body. He tried briefly to struggle, to break away from her contact, knowing that the innocent had no idea what it was doing to him, but he was weak and his virgin 'wife' held on to him, pressing him even closer. In the end he threw his head back and moaned, hoping it would sound to Willow like expressions of pain instead of desire.

When the stake was several inches out, Willow took her head away, completely oblivious to what her actions had been doing to Spike. She was now able to grab the stake with her hands, and in a matter of seconds she had gently removed the rest of its length from his back. "There," she said, holding up the blood-soaked stick for him to see. "That wasn't too bad , was it?"

Spike clenched his teeth and took a moment to collect himself, never bothering to look. He could already feel the gaping wound begin to heal and the bleeding slow. He had come so close to changing when Willow's mouth suckled gently on his skin. The vampire couldn't bear to look at her, angry at himself for his intensely passionate yet animalistic urges. He walked to his wardrobe and grabbed the first shirt he saw. For a moment he steadied himself and then quickly pulled the shirt on before heading for the door.

"Spike? Where are you going?" Willow was confused. "You're weak. Shouldn't you try and rest for a few hours first?"

"Rest is not what I need!" he snapped and was out the door before Willow could question him further. Willow sat there stunned for a few minutes. < I can't believe he just left. > "No 'Thank you for saving my un-life, Red,' or even 'Thanks pet, what the hell took you so bloody long?' "

"You're welcome!" she finally shouted at the door, knowing he was long gone and would never hear her. She cleaned herself, grumbling the entire time about ungrateful men, before heading for home. There was no way she was sticking around Spike's place all night just waiting for him to find some manners.

*****

Willow didn't think twice about cutting through the park on her way home. It was still early in the evening, and she had slowly become less paranoid about running into Darla and Angelus-- it was a big city after all. She was also distracted by the blonde vampire's unusual behavior after she had treated his injury and so was once again lost in her own thoughts. Willow was deep into the park by the time she sensed someone was following her.

Her hand instinctively went to the cross around her neck, but it was gone. Realization hit her with a sense of foreboding when she remembered taking it off before tending to Spike. < Oh, no! Okay, don't panic! Stay calm and think! > she instructed herself, but before she could come up with another plan the vampire was on her. Rough hands grabbed her from behind, and a cockney voice slurred in her ear. "Aren't ya a pretty wee thing?" The vampire twisted her around, waiting for a shocked look to appear on his victim's face when she took in his vampiric appearance. Willow glanced briefly at the hideous monster before letting her lips curve into a smile. "Sorry, but I can't say the same thing about you!"

Her calm response confused the vampire, giving Willow the opening she needed to try her favorite move. One heel ground down into his foot and was quickly followed by a knee to the groin. He released her and fell to his knees, whimpering like a baby. The petite redhead managed to stumble several steps away before being sideswiped by yet another ugly demon, this time a woman. "Come on, luvie. We just wanted to invite ya to dinner!"

The male vampire quickly regained his senses and closed in. Willow was close to panicking as she struggled unsuccessfully to escape the vampire couple. The male was about to pull Willow's head back when he abruptly went flying across the lawn. The female looked over Willow's shoulder and paled visibly.

"Now, what part of my simple directions do ya two not seem to be understandin'? I am sure I told ya that ya were never to touch a woman with red hair!"

The ugly vampire quickly loosened her grip, and Willow fell to the ground.

< Oh, God! That voice! > she screamed to herself. The ageless redhead was too shaken to move for a moment and kept her face down, hoping and praying that she was wrong.

"Now, leave us alone," he commanded to the others. "And ya best be rememberin' what I said. *All* the redheads are *mine!*"

The vampire knelt next to the victim and stroked her hair. "My, but ya do have such lovely hair," the voice told her. "And I, myself, always had a soft spot in me soul for beautiful women with red hair, such as yerself." He put a hand under her chin, to pull her head up. "But, since then, I have gotten *rid* of that pesky little soul."

Willow's face was slowly forced up, and she looked into the eyes of Angelus once again. His recognition was instantaneous.

"Rose?" he demanded as he stood and fell back a few paces. "But, how can that be? She's dead, or at least an old woman by now. And yer...."

The frightened redhead was at a loss for what to do since she was nearly as shocked to see the vampire, as Angelus was to see his past love. Her first thought was to look away-- look anywhere but into the face of the man she once loved-- but she couldn't do it. As Willow rose shakily to her feet, she stared in sickly fascination as Angelus's visage changed from shock, to disbelief and wonder, and then to its vampiric form, before once more returning to its handsome yet cruel human facade. Even as she watched, she had to remind herself what Angelus was now, forcing herself to remember that while even if at the moment he looked confused and almost vulnerable, he was a soulless killer...one of the most vicious there ever was.

< What the hell were you thinking, Willow? Walking through the park after dark! > she screamed silently at herself. Still watching him closely, she slowly backed away, but her whole body was shaking so violently that she knew she wouldn't get very far. Running was useless, the only way she was going to get out of this was a miracle.

Angelus regained his composure and sauntered easily back to her, his eyes drinking in every inch of Willow's trembling figure. He slowly ran a cool hand along her cheek and down her neck to her collarbone, not caring how she flinched under his touch. "And yer very much alive and still as beautiful as...." The dark vampire's lips curled into an angry sneer. "What are ya, my love, fer ya are certainly not just any ordinary woman, are ya, Rose?" The hand that had been resting near her throat moved to the back of her head, gripping her by the hair and yanking her to him.

"I don't know who this Rose person is ya keep talkin' about," Willow lied, using an accent that she was able to fall in and out of quite easily now. Nevertheless, the bar maid knew she had already given herself away just by the fact that she didn't appear shocked when his handsome face turned to that of a monster's. "But please don't hurt me. Please?" she begged, not only out of fear but also in hopes of covering up her earlier errors.

"Don't lie to me, my love," he growled. "I know it is ya. I can smell yer fear, and it is exactly the same as the last time I held ya in me arms. Do ya remember, Rose? The last time we were together," he whispered cruelly in her ear as a finger made slow circles around the area where she had been bitten that night. "Because I remember it very well. Ya were delicious, Rose, and I have never had anyone that was even comparable since." The vampire's mouth moved to her neck, cool lips lightly grazing the skin over her jugular while his hands moved down her shoulders and arms, squeezing and caressing the tender flesh as they went.

Willow was frozen in her spot, petrified and unable to move. His touch, his voice, his face created a myriad of emotions within her and made it impossible to think clearly let alone struggle against his considerable strength. "I don't know what ya are talkin' about. Please let me go, good sir." Her voice quivered, revealing the inner turmoil that she would have preferred to keep secret.

She felt him chuckle slightly, his mouth now over the hollow of her throat. Suddenly his hand grasped hers and roughly pulled it to his mouth. "Really?" Angelus asked, amused at her poor attempt to lie to him. He glanced at her hand and at the silver ring still molded there. He kissed it lightly before turning it over to trace a path from her palm to the ring with his tongue, his eyes never leaving her face. "Now, yer not expectin' me to believe that there are two fiery redheads runnin' loose on this world with silver weddin' rings melted to their tiny little fingers, do ya?" When his mouth returned to the ring, Angelus abruptly bit her just hard enough to break the skin. Ridges and fangs appeared as the vampire slowly licked the few drops that welled to the surface, and Willow could sense that he was fighting the urge to just drain her right then and there. His eyes were dark and wild when they found hers again. "No, that's my Rose," he growled, trying to suck a few more drops from her finger. Finally, he tore himself away from her hand and let his face return to its human form, his lips curving once again into a heartless sneer. "And I can't tell ya how touched I am that ya saved yer most precious gift for me, my love." The look in his eyes made it very obvious to Willow that he referred to her virginity. "But I think ya have waited long enough, don't you?"

Willow didn't have time to consider the weight of his words before Angelus's hand moved to the back of her head. A sudden pain made her brain feel as though a dark blanket had been slipped over it, and she fell into unconsciousness.
 

~Chapter Nineteen~

Angelus paced the wooden floors of the large house where he and his like had been staying. He could not believe that after all these years he had her again. Angelus remembered vividly how the night he was changed all he could think about was Rose. In fact, he and Darla had been making plans to get Rose the very moment she came running into the street. He had wanted her then-- wanted to drink every bit of the red liquid of life that flowed through her-- but that other vampire had stopped him. Angelus was now glad that he didn't have the chance to finish her that night. It would have been over too soon. The fledging vamp would have just drained her, killed her, and then left her body in the street, but now he had more control. Now he knew how to keep his victims alive for months if he wished-- years possibly.

He looked at her still unconscious form lying on the bed in his room and grew increasingly impatient for answers. Approaching the bedside, Angelus knelt on the floor, resting his head on his hands next to her face. He studied her for a while, still not completely believing that it could be her. Darla had told him that he would always remember his first, and she was right. Although many of his early days as a vampire were blurry to him, passing in a red haze of bloodlust, he did remember in vivid detail the feel of Rose in his arms. Even now he often recalled how her struggles had just made him want her more and how every drop of her crimson essence felt as it surged through his body. She made him feel powerful, invulnerable, and more 'alive' than he ever had when he had walked beneath the sun. The vampire had always hoped to recapture that feeling, and his taste for victims tended to run toward wide-eyed innocent girls, but it was never the same. And now here she was again and still a virgin, of that fact he was sure after sampling only a few drops of her blood earlier. It took every fiber of strength he had not to feed from her while she slept.

Angelus had always assumed that she had died soon after their encounter. The odd blonde vampire she was with, although obviously unusually attached to her, would probably not have kept her alive much longer. Vampires' concubines tended to have short life spans. Yet, here she was. He quickly inspected her neck. His supernaturally sharp eyes were looking for that which living eyes rarely noticed, but they found only the very faint marks of the one bite from almost 60 years ago. That puzzled him. He expected to find others, since bite marks were the main way of marking a vampire's property-- a way of warning other vampires that this particular meal was somebody else's. The marks also revealed other information, including the nature of the bite. The wounds made during sexual activity looked different from those done in a feeding frenzy, for example, and as he studied the signs left by Spike years earlier, he could now tell that the other vampire had been trying very hard not to hurt her. That observation, when combined with the fact that she had no other apparent markings, only brought up more questions.

As he waited for her to wake up, Angelus allowed himself to briefly remember some of the times they had spent together when he was still a weak, living man. As pictures of them laughing, riding through rain-soaked forests and clambering over crumbled stonework, and even sharing many meals filled his mind one after the other, he abruptly shoved the memories away. It physically sickened him to remember his life and how nice he was-- how human. He now considered his breathing counterpart to have been a fool, one who had never taken what he wanted. He felt that the Irishman had wasted time waiting for things that he should have just taken-- like Rose. As these thoughts occurred to him and before he was aware of his actions, the vampire was once again violently pacing the floor, trying to burn off a sudden burst of excess energy.

Willow started to awaken with a dull throbbing in the back of her head. She groaned and forced herself to a sitting position before opening her eyes. Her surroundings were completely unfamiliar, and the petite redhead was trying to fit the pieces of her night together when she saw him. "Angelus..." she said in a whisper before she could stop herself. She quickly took in his appearance, so much paler than the man she had ridden with all of those years ago. He was well dressed, and it was obvious, between his fashionable clothing and the rich but sparse furnishings of the room she was in, that he had no shortage of money. Some other obvious differences jumped out at her, ones that she had noticed earlier in the park but hadn't had the time to consider. His hair, for example, while still long, was no longer kept back in a ponytail. Instead, it hung in gentle curves around his face, while a mustache rested above the heartless lips that were already contorting into a dangerous smile.

"So, ya do remember me?" he asked, slowly approaching the bed that she was sitting on. He sat next to her, and Willow instinctively crept to the far edge of the large bed, trying to distance herself from the demon that she knew was capable of snapping her neck in an instant.

"I'm waitin', Rose. I can wait forever if that's what it will take, and judging by yer appearance apparently we have all the time in the world."

Willow didn't respond-- didn't even look at his face as the gravity of her situation became evident.

When Willow remained silent, Angelus shot a hand out and grabbed her by the back of the neck, bringing her to him. "I am waitin' for an explanation as to how ya are here without agin' a day. I also intend to find out who yer husband, the vampire, is, little one." His hungry eyes traveled the length of her body, stopping to rest on her rising breasts and again on her neck, her mouth, and finally boring into her frightened eyes.

The slight redhead still didn't answer him. She had no idea what to say and knew that she couldn't tell him the truth. Before she could find her voice, her body began to betray her and violently shake with fear. Willow began to struggle in his grasp. She had no expectations of actually being able to escape through her use of force but rather used her struggles as a means of camouflaging her small, frightened body's response to Angelus. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how petrified she actually was, although she knew that this, too, was futile.

Angelus easily diffused her endeavors to free herself by strengthening his hold on her. "I missed ya, Rose. Do ya believe me when I tell ya that I missed ya?" He lowered his mouth to hers, dragging it lightly across her tightly clenched lips. He ignored her unresponsiveness and moved his lips to her cheek and then her ear, trailing his tongue along her hot skin and relishing the taste of her fear.

It was like a nightmare. The few times Willow had allowed herself to imagine what would happen if she were to meet Angelus again, this was the worse possible scenario. The best would be that he would not recognize her and just feed from her again, mistakenly leaving her for dead. Of course, then there was torture. The trembling redhead knew that she wouldn't be able to hold out long against whatever horrors he could dream up. Giles never went into much detail about what Angelus had done while interrogating him on how to wake up Acathla, but the librarian had told them enough, and everything else was apparent in his eyes whenever Angel's name was mentioned. Giles may have been able to withstand him, but the once-hacker strongly doubted her ability to suppress any information for long. However, as bad as that would be, the worst was this-- a more intimate type of torture that used their previous feelings for each other against her.

Angelus could see in her eyes and the set of her jaw, the tension in her muscles as his free hand roamed over her arms and shoulders, that she was determined to remain silent. He had no doubts that eventually he would break her and she would tell him all, but since they apparently had plenty of time, he thought he would like to play a little game first.

His touch softened, and the dark demon released his hold on her as he pulled back to gaze into her frightened emerald eyes. "I'm sorry if I have frightened ya, Rose," he said gently, easily letting his face fall into a mask of regret and caring. "I was just completely taken aback to find ya after all these years. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that we would be together again, no matter how long I may have wished for it." The vampire tenderly brushed a few strands of hair back from her face.

Willow flinched under his cold touch and scrambled back to the head of the bed, all the time looking for a way out. The dark room had one heavy door which was closed and no windows, and she saw nothing that looked to be of any help. <Figures,> she groaned inwardly. <Not even a vase or a fire poker to whack him over the head with!>

He smiled as he realized what she was thinking, making sure not to show too many teeth. "I remember so well all of our ridin' lessons. Ya learned so quickly, little one." Forcing air through his long-dead lungs, he continued with a sigh. "I've not forgotten how ya felt in me arms." He slowly edged closer to her while succeeding in keeping his voice tender. "Do ya remember the last day we had on the cliffs, Rose? Ya told me that ya didn't love yer husband. I wanted so badly to just take you away that day-- to just take ya in me arms and carry ya away from Galway, and me family, and yer husband. We could have been happy, Rose. I know we could have. And I can tell that ya know it, too."

Willow closed her eyes as he spoke. At first her barriers refused to allow his words through-- refused to let their meaning worm their way into her heart, but eventually they broke through and met their mark. Willow felt the warm tears trickle down her cheeks and was ashamed of herself. She knew what he was doing, had even prepared for this, but in spite of all the plans she had made and shields she had constructed, every word was like a stake in her heart.

When he saw the first tear make a silent trail down her alabaster skin, the demon felt like crowing with victory. Not only was she frightened of the vampire Angelus, but she also still had feelings for that pathetic man he once was. <This is goin' to be so simple. Like pluckin' virgins in a convent.> He slowly reached out and caught a tear with his finger, noting with conceited glee how she hadn't winced at his touch this time. "I often wonder," he continued his torture, "what would have happened if I had done that-- spirited ya away in the middle of the night. I suppose we would have grown old together in some little stone cottage in the country somewhere. Maybe raised a family."

<Don't listen...don't listen...don't listen....> Even as she repeated this mantra to herself, memories that she had kept submerged for years forced their way through-- memories of dead fish, dead slayers, and dead mentors, and it gave her the strength and courage she would need to make her escape. She opened her eyes to gaze into the vampire's dark pools.

"Angelus," she croaked softly. "I-- "

"Sshhh..., little one," the dark one murmured in his most velvety tones. "It's all right. We are together now, and we can make up for all the lost time." Angelus caressed her collarbone without ever losing contact with her eyes, and then he went in for the kill, so to speak. He lowered his lips to hers, brushing them softly, tenderly against her closed mouth. He pulled back when she didn't respond but wasn't worried. After all, she hadn't pushed him away either. "Rose, please. I am so sorry that I scared ya, but ya know that I love ya. I always have."

Willow allowed her hand to drift up and run through his hair for a moment, something that she had always wanted to do back in Ireland, but she had never allowed herself that little indulgence. "Angelus, it's a sin that you died so young," she told him softly, tears still in her eyes. "Depriving the world of such a great actor is truly a crime."

It took a moment for her words to register, and a puzzled, almost comical, look crept onto his face.

She went on, her words now cold and bitter. "I know exactly who and what you are, Angelus, as well as what you are capable of. So save the Shakespearean monologues. I am in no mood to be your Juliet."

Angelus narrowed his eyes. He had to admit to himself that he briefly thought she had believed him, and now the vampire was disappointed that he wasn't going to get to finish the game. He so loved tormenting the beautiful and innocent, and the fact that his living self had been in love with this woman was going to make the torture even sweeter. Perhaps even rid him of the memories. Suddenly, Angelus was angry. "Have it yer way, my lady. I was goin' to try and make it a little fun for both of us." His once-loving touch quickly became more aggressive and dangerous.

<Come on, Willow...don't back out now.> "I wouldn't call any moment in your presence fun," she mumbled just loud enough so that he could hear her words. <More, Willow. Think...what would Buffy say?>

He easily disregarded her attempt to insult him. "Ya will tell me the truth, little one. One way or another so ya might as well save yerself some pain." His mouth lowered to her throat, his teeth scratching at her delicate skin. "Actually," he continued, moving on to her ear, "I rather hope that ya don't tell me. Not right away, that is. I can only imagine how beautiful ya must be when ya are writhin' in pain."

The trembling woman forced herself to speak, trying to ignore his icy touch on her flushed flesh. "Did I mention how much I hate your mustache? You look like you should be standing around with three other unattractive men wearing red-striped vests and singing "Sweet Adeline" in 4-part harmony! It is not a good look for you." <Lame, Willow. Buffy would have done so much better!> she berated herself.

He stiffened momentarily, but then chuckled and continued his assault on her throat, still not breaking the skin. Willow tried to come up with something else. She wasn't worried that he would bite her. She was more worried that he wouldn't. "I never loved you, Angelus. Not when you were alive and certainly not now." Willow was pleased that her voice didn't crack as the lies continued to pour out of her. "I was bored and you were fun. That is all there was to it. We both know I *wasn't* married. *If* I had wanted you, I could have had you. Point is, I didn't and I don't. You were way too simple and stupid for me then, and now I think that what little brain matter you may have once had stayed dead when Darla killed you!"

When she heard the growl she knew her words had had the desired effect, but in the split second before his hand hit her face, the redhead suddenly feared that she may have pushed him too far. Willow's head snapped back from the force of the slap, yet the slight time traveler was actually worried that he hadn't hit her hard enough.

Angelus was on his feet as soon as his fingers made contact with her warm skin. He needed to take a moment to calm down before he got carried away and ruined the fun too quickly, but just as he was about to open the door, he sensed the blood. Spinning around quickly, he saw a fine trickle of crimson liquid trailing from her split lip, down the corner of her mouth to her chin. For a moment he told himself to just walk away, just leave her there, cowering in the dim room, but the demon's need to feed effortlessly overpowered his sadistic urges to prolong the emotional torment. In the blink of an eye, his face turned to that of the vampire's and he was at her side, yanking her to him. "I may not be knowin' how ya managed to keep yer last vampire companion from doing this, but I promise ya that I will * not* be so gentle with ya!" he growled, angrily sinking his fangs into her graceful neck. As the blood filled his mouth, and Willow went limp in his arms, he marveled at its sweetness and power. The taste of Rose and her blood's effect on him was exactly like he had remembered. No, in actuality it was far better than he had ever imagined, and he took as much as he dared.
 

~Chapter Twenty~

Two vampires fled from the same woman, the same night, and for basically the same reasons. They both were struggling to leave behind the strong emotions that the beautiful redhead seemed to draw out of them. Even their feelings mirrored each other's, welling up inside of them so intensely that the two fated vamps felt as if they could suffocate, although never another breath would they require. Yet, even though the feelings were similar, their reactions to those emotions were completely different.

One had escaped into the night, trying to forget the feelings of desire that were so powerful they threatened to change the future-- the future that he had spent the last several decades trying to manipulate. The other embraced the desire and the hunger but fled anyway, fearing he would lose control and kill her before having the chance to fully explore the possibilities with this woman-- with *his* Rose.

One feared the dawning of this passion; the other feared the ending of it.

***

Spike had run away from his own home, barely dressed, weak from hunger and blood loss, to escape the sensations of passion that Willow had evoked in him. Her fingers on his skin, her warm breath on his back, and her soft lips on his wound had created a mixture that Spike found intoxicating...pleasure and pain. As he stumbled down darkened streets, looking for easy prey, he felt as if he had betrayed Dru, his Dark Goddess...his Princess. Since Spike and Dru had been together, he had never been with another woman, had never really wanted or needed to because Drusilla was everything to him. They were, for lack of a better word, soulmates. Still, he could no longer deny a growing attraction to *his* Willow, and a need that was able to make him, for the first time, forget about the vampiress that he was sure he was meant to be with until the sun burned itself out.

Nevertheless, tonight Spike had thought only about Willow as the fires of desire had licked at him, as his need for her had risen to an almost animalistic hunger in only the few moments it had taken her to remove a sliver of wood from his back. If she could do that to him in only a few moments unintentionally, what could she do intentionally? What could they do to each other? His love for Drusilla hadn't wavered, but a part of him wanted Willow now, and while that realization was worrying, the fact that he actually found himself caring about her was more petrifying. Lust was nothing new to him and was easy to understand. Mistakes made while under lust's power were forgivable, but actual caring and fondness for Willow was another matter. He had no idea how to handle that, having not experienced it for anyone other than Drusilla. This need he had, to be with his time-traveling companion, to make her happy again, and to see her smile and hear her laugh, were alien to him. Was it love? He didn't think so, but it was more than friendship now-- more than simple camaraderie or need created by unusual circumstances. As the thoughts churned over and over again in his mind, he made a decision. He would never be able to have what he wanted from her. They were too different and the situation was too volatile, add to that the whole 'virgin' factor, and he realized that unless he got himself under control, he was going to be taking a lot of cold showers over the coming years. With that in mind, he set out on a good, old-fashioned feeding frenzy, hoping to release some of the tension that was still coursing through his veins.

***

Angelus, on the other hand, found his appetite waning momentarily. The blood he had stolen from Willow had more than satiated his need to feed for the time being. Although the quantity was less than what he would normally consume on an average night, even when it comes to a blood lust, quality still outweighed quantity. He didn't know if it was because she was a virgin, because she was his first 'meal' when he was a newly-made vamp, or because of the mystery that surrounded his Rose that made her so potent and enticing to him, but either way, an obsession had been born.

The Irish vampire had to force himself to hunt that night, even to feed a little. Before he knew it, again and again his feet kept heading back toward his lair of their own accord. Angelus had to consciously fight to stay out until the last possible minutes before sunrise, just to prove to himself that he could and to try and regain a feeling of control-- control he had lost the moment he found her in the park. He reminded himself that they would have plenty of time to discover the truth, whether she offered it freely or he had to drag it from her. He rather hoped she would put up a fight, as the thought of causing her pain brought him immense pleasure. Whether it be the kind brought about by agonizing physical torture, or mental torture that never brought even a single drop of blood, Angelus hoped he would have the chance to aid her in experiencing both

Angelus dropped his third course, barely noticing as the old woman's death rattle signaled the end of her days. It was a sound he usually was quite the connoisseur of, but he was already too busy plotting the future of his Rose to take notice. As his mind grasped onto the idea, it planned step-by-step how he would make her succumb to him. The first few days would be the hardest-- well, for him anyway. He would have to leave her alone, give her time to heal and, more importantly, to think. As her sharp mind undoubtedly would grasp the possibilities that lay before her, she would become frightened and more and more apprehensive. The distress she would have to endure as she waited to see her fate played out in his hands was an exquisite torture in itself, but it was just the beginning.

The dark demon was no longer bothered by the fact that Rose hadn't believed his little ploy to make her think that he still had romantic feelings for her. He could tell that she *wanted* to believe. The ethereal redhead almost seemed to need it, the tears alone told him that much. He had seen the struggle in her eyes to hate him and heard the quiver in her voice as she told him that she had never loved him. Both spoke volumes about her true feelings for him-- the man that no longer was and the vampire that would forever be. Yes, there was an opening there still, and he would worm his way into her if it took a lifetime.

He would seep into her mind first, bending it to his will by distorting it with memories, clouding it with his promises, and confusing it with whispered suggestions. Soon she would no longer be sure of anything and begin to question all that she knew. He would have to be careful though; Angelus didn't want to break her completely, for it was Rose's fire and strength that peppered her blood, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with an unstable woman for eternity. No, he wouldn't break her, just bend her a little, mold her, until she was his-- mind and body, heart and soul.

Once he had her mind, his war plan would have him move on to her heart-- an easy battle when the groundwork had been laid correctly. The heart, although he no longer possessed one, was still amazing to the soulless demon. Angelus did not understand the physiology of the vital organ or how it pumped the blood that he so craved through the corporeal body, but he did know that, 'metaphorically,' if you controlled a woman's heart, you were truly the most powerful man in her world. He had never known that power when he was alive, though he had come close with Rose. Now he would finish it. The right words, a gentle caress when needed, quickly followed by a harsh but necessary display of his dominance...all would make the mysterious redhead his when they combined with her already confused state of mind.

His final step would be to take her soul. At this point he wasn't sure if she could be turned. He was still trying to figure out exactly what she was, and the possibilities darted in and out of his thoughts as he choreographed her fate. Was she a witch, some other type of immortal, or fae even? Or were there other entities working on this plane that he was not yet aware of? She certainly was no demon, of that he was positive, but that was all that he was sure of. Angelus would have those answers soon, and already his decision was made. If Rose could be turned, he would change the woman after he had twisted her into his ideal, and if not, she would still be his, but more as a concubine than a partner. Nevertheless, as the night drew near its end, he found himself hoping that she couldn't be turned. It would be a shame to waste all that warm flesh and blood.

He was practically skipping as he came to his house, never pausing to offer more than a grunt of greeting to the other vampires as they too returned home. He bounded up the steps, threw open the door and headed straight for his room at the end of a long, turning hallway, the grin on his handsome face growing both larger and more devilish as he neared where he had left her only a few hours ago.

As he turned the last corner, he stopped abruptly. The smile being quickly replaced by a scowl of rage. His door was open. Who dared go into his room without his permission? If any of the others had touched his prize, they would be dust before the sun was fully in the sky. He slammed the door the remainder of the way open, expecting to find one of the fledglings slobbering over his Rose, but instead found an empty room. She was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost sunrise when Spike made the final turn toward home. He had spent the early hours of the night lurking through dark streets, searching for easy prey. The first one had needed to be easy, as he had yet to gain his strength back. Then, for his second and third victims, he chose those that looked more likely to put up a struggle. He hadn't had a good spot of violence in what seemed like ages, and he thought it would be just the trick to get the redhead out of his mind. Later, the fair-haired vampire had wandered in to a pub with the sole purpose of starting a fight. Naturally, he was the last man standing, but he still found the victory hollow. All the sucker punches, broken jaws, and flying tables had been in vain. Even as he sent one soldier flying through a window, Spike's thoughts were of Willow and what he could never have. He was actually relieved when the morning drew near so he could go home. Home to an empty house and an empty bed, again, like it had been for decades.

As he climbed the stairs inside the warehouse to his private abode, still disappointed that his feeding frenzy had far from erased the memories of the night's earlier activities with Willow, it finally occurred to him that he had left her alone there at night. he berated himself. He was still shaking his head in disgust when he reached the top of the stairs. That was when he smelled it-- blood, lots of it, and it was Willow's. He bounded up the last few stairs to find the door open and Willow inside, lying unconscious on the floor.

Even though he knew in the back of his mind that she couldn't be dead, he froze for a moment, waiting to hear if her heart was still beating. It seemed like an eternity before he was able to detect a weak heart beat and shallow, raspy breathing, and it seemed like another eternity before he could force his legs into action.

Kneeling beside her, he immediately found that the source of the blood was a vampire's bite. A quick survey showed no other obvious injuries, other than a bruised, cut lip and a lump on the back of the head. She was dirty and wet, looking as if she had crawled through hell to get there. < If anything else has been done to her...> Guilt hit him like a slap in the face, and Spike could have sworn that the cross-shaped scar on his jaw tingled more than usual. "Hell, Red!" the vampire murmured, more to himself than to her. "You could have stayed here, you know. You would have been safe here!" 

He gently picked her up and carried her to his bed, not caring that a small amount of his own blood still stained the sheets from earlier that night. Spike examined the large wound, noting just how vicious the bite was...it was obviously done in anger and in lust. What he couldn't tell from the mark was who had made it. At first he was worried that possibly his alter ego had attacked her, but the quick inspection quickly eliminated that fear. It wasn't William the Bloody's style. "Well, some bloody animal wanted you alive, Pet...for a while, anyway," he grumbled aloud. He quickly grabbed a towel and placed it over the wound, trying to stem the blood flow.

While the peroxide vampire tended to her injuries, he was continuously being assaulted by the smell of Willow's blood. Even though he had practically gorged himself all night in a futile attempt to be free from some of his frustrations regarding the woman he was now caring for, the scent of her blood was making it nearly impossible for him to control the demon within. On an average night, Spike would have little trouble restraining himself from feeding from a particular person, but this wasn't an average night, nor was this just anyone's blood. It was Willow's untainted blood, and the scent alone was enough to once again flood him with memories of just how delectable a creature she was...not that he needed reminding.

He stayed that way for quite some time, checking her injury and replacing one blood-soaked cloth after another until the bleeding stopped. Then, he attempted to clean her up a little, gently wiping the dirt from her otherwise colorless face. When he had carefully removed the layers of filth, the vampiric nursemaid held a wet cloth to her face and slowly reached out one tentative finger to gently caress her cheek.

Willow groaned and pressed instinctively into the coolness of the hand on her face.

"Willow...come on, love...open your eyes." Spike for once didn't try to hide his feelings and stroked her too-pale face gingerly.

Finally, her eyes opened, instantly meeting Spike's just as his hand flew back to his side. "Spike?" Her eyes darted around the room as she struggled to remember why she was here. "What happened?" Willow tried to sit up, only to feel a shooting pain in the side of her neck. "Owwww!"

"Don't move, Red. I barely have the bleeding stopped as it is," he said seriously, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. "You lost a lot of blood. If it weren't for the spell, you'd probably be dead."

She fell back down on to the soft pillows, her mind racing. "Bleeding? Why am I here? What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" he asked as he stood up and went to the wash stand to rinse out the cloth.

Willow closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but it hurt too much. "Um, I was here with you, I pulled the stake out of your back, and then you left suddenly. I started to go home through the park..."

The guilt that Spike felt at the mention of his abrupt departure made him flinch and speak a little too harshly. "That wasn't very bright, now was it, Red?" he shot at her over his shoulder before looking back to the basin. The water had already turned a light shade of red, and he couldn't help wondering what it would taste like. The tempting thought made him grip the table in desperation, his fingernails gouging into the wood before turning back to face the weakened woman. 

"I know it was stupid," she agreed quietly, still preoccupied with trying to figure out what had happened.

"I shouldn't have left you alone." His tone was softer, apologetic even, which made him quickly change the subject. "So, you really don't remember what happened?" When Willow shook her head no, he continued, his manner light. "Oh, well, then...there were at least 5 or 6 of them...vampires and assorted demons, that is...big ugly ones, too. I managed to rush in just in the nick of time to save your bloody neck," he said with a wink. "Quite the knight in shining armor I was, if I do say so myself....minus the horse, of course." The little-too-jovial vampire returned to the wash basin, his back to Willow, and proceeded to scold himself silently for sounding like such an idiot. "Did you see what he looked like, Pet? I'll find him tonight and kill him for you...make sure he never has another chance to hurt you."

While Spike was uncharacteristically babbling, everything had come back to her in a flash-- everything that the other vampire had done and said to her. For a brief moment, her emotional pain blotted out the physical pain. Still, she fought back the tears, determined that she wasn't going to cry over him again. "Angelus," Willow croaked, barely above a whisper.

The vampire spun around. This was not good. "Angelus..." he hissed furiously, silently cursing their rotten luck. Again Angelus was trying to ruin his plans, and for him to have done that to Willow... No longer able to control his darker emotions, the ridges and fangs appeared and his eyes yellowed as he looked at his Willow.

The weakened redhead saw the change and shrunk back in fright, images of Angelus still too fresh in her mind. She hadn't seen Spike like this in a long time, and while his demonic visage had made an appearance when she had tended his wound, it hadn't frightened her. This Spike did, however.

As he strode toward the bed, the vampire was barely aware that he was no longer his handsome human self. He had only meant to hand her another damp towel, but the look of terror on her face stopped him. She hadn't looked at him like that since the night they left Sunnydale, and while he enjoyed frightening her then, it no longer brought him the same pleasure.

"Damn you, Spike! Stay the hell away from me!" she shrieked as she slid to the farthest side of the bed.

"Willow...calm down, love. I only want to give you something for that," he explained, gesturing toward her neck.

"I'm sure you do!" she said haughtily, getting to her feet. Before she could take two steps, however, her knees buckled, and she slid weakly to the floor.

Spike was kneeling beside her in an instant, still in full game face. "You're still weak," he told her firmly, although it came out as more of a growl. He picked her up, ignoring her struggles, and tossed her back on the bed as gently as he could.

Willow felt the blood begin to trickle down her neck again, and her eyes flew to Spike's face. She saw as his pupils enlarged and followed the red trail hungrily. The emotional roller-coaster of the past few hours had taken its toll, and she lashed out at the only person she could. "Fine! You want my blood? Here it is," she said as she crawled across the bed to him on her hands and knees. "Go ahead! You know you want to. You must be thinking about all this nice virgin blood just going to waste!" She moved closer, practically thrusting her bloody wound in his face. "Come on, Spike, belly up to the bar!"

Spike was trying very hard to regain control, to make the demon go back inside, but she just kept flaunting herself in his demonic face. Her scent surrounded him. She was on his hands, his clothes, his bed, and now she was offering herself to him. He turned away but couldn't make himself put any distance between them. "Stop it, Willow. You're acting like a child." There was no conviction in his voice, though...only hunger and frustration.

She put a hand on his back, not thinking about what she was saying. "Isn't this what you always wanted? Virgin blood-- it's like Dom Perignon for bloodsuckers, isn't it? Oh, what's wrong, Spikey? Not hungry? But there's always room for Willow..." Beneath her hand she could actually feel Spike shaking, quivering with need for her, but she was too far gone to be frightened by it. She was in control this time...not like it had been with Angelus. "I know that you're thinking about it...remembering what I taste like...wanting to feed from me again..."

He finally turned back around, her words hitting too close to the mark for comfort.

Willow put her hand to her wound then drew her fingers away, staring at the dark red blood on her fingers. "What is it about this that you crave so much, hmm....?" She reached her hand out to Spike's face, the blood-tainted fingers coming with in a hair's breadth of his lips before he leaned back out of her reach.

He took a deep breath, hoping to find some strength in it, but he was teetering on the edge. "You're behaving like a child, Willow," he finally managed through gritted teeth.

The overwrought woman laughed, her voice deep and sensual. "You said that already, Spike. See...I know you want some. It's all you think about when you're with me, isn't it?" she asked huskily and leaned forward. "Don't you want it, Spike?" Willow put her fingers to her lips, licking each one slowly, all the time watching Spike's reaction.

He stood for a moment, watching her seductive display. The fair-haired vamp could tell she didn't really know what she was doing...she seemed to be running on sheer willpower at the moment. But the demon in him screamed for her. She was practically throwing herself at him...offering her potent blood to him. With a growl, he lunged at her, his face dark and his eyes feral.

"Is this what you want, Pet?" he growled as he straddled her and pinned her down on the bed, arms above her head. "You want me to claw at you, threaten you, feed from you? Is that what you really want, Willow?" His dangerous mouth hovered inches above hers, and he no longer tried to keep his eyes from wandering to the trail of blood that was slowly making its way from her jugular.

The wildness was gone from Willow's face in the blink of an eye. "No, I--"

"Would it make things easier if you could just peg me in the same box with Angelus? We're all blood-thirsty animals, right? No willpower...no control....see a spot of blood and we drool. I thought you knew me better than that, Willow. I thought we had an understanding, a mutual respect of sorts, but I guess I was wrong."

Willow didn't notice when the tears started, but at some point they slipped down her cheek to mix with the blood on her neck. She didn't even struggle against his hold on her.

"But, if you want to go back to the days of me being the hunter and you the prey, then fine, love. Because, to be honest, it's easier that way anyway...more natural. So, I'm willing to forget about everything we have been through and throw it all away, just for a little taste. Is that what you want?"

Willow bit her lip for a moment, then started sobbing uncontrollably.
"No..." she finally managed between sobs.

Even with her admission, he didn't let her go. "Are you sure? Because now that you mention it, I really am a bit peckish."

Her tears didn't lessen any as she tried to bury her face in her own shoulder to hide from his demanding eyes. "I hate you, Spike. I really, really hate you."

~~~~~~~

Spike's features softened and returned to his human facade, her pain-filled words giving him the self-control he had lacked only moments before. He remembered now how he had told her only a few weeks ago that he welcomed her loathing of him. He released his hold on her and moved so that he was standing at the bedside. Picking up the towel, he silently dabbed at her wound.

Willow lay there, her head turned to the side so she wouldn't have to look into his face. She was embarrassed and ashamed of her behavior. she wondered as she wallowed a while longer in her own self-loathing. She couldn't bring herself to look at him yet, but she knew she needed to tell him about what had happened that night. The weakened redhead hoped it might help explain her actions, but she wasn't ready to relive that again. 

They didn't speak for the longest time, but Spike continued to hold the cloth to her neck to stem the blood flow. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he took the cloth away and had a close inspection.

"I think I've stopped it for good now, as long as you don't plan to reopen it just to try and seduce me again."

Willow remained silent, staring blankly at the far wall, but she did cringe at his use of the word 'seduce'.

"Actually, since you already hate me," Spike said coolly as he walked to the other side of the room, "might as well get this over with."

Willow rose to the bait, looking for any way to disperse the uncomfortable air that had settle between them. "Get what over with?"

"Well, Red, I need to clean up your bite a little. You looked like you waded through the damn sewer to get here, and we wouldn't want it to get all infected and leave a scar on that perfect little throat of yours, now would we?" Spike rummaged around in a cupboard, coming back to her with a bottle of whiskey in his hand and a few more towels.

Seeing the bottle, Willow raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, Spike, but the last time I got drunk with you, you stabbed me in the back. I think I'll pass, but if you have a Diet Coke I would be *eternally* grateful."

Spike ignored her sarcasm and sat next to her on the bed, placing the towels over her shoulders and on her lap. "This is going to hurt, Willow. Are you ready?"

Willow's eyes widened when she realized what he meant to do. "Why do I have a feeling you are really going to *enjoy* this?" she asked, not able to take her eyes off of the bottle.

"Because you are a *very* perceptive woman."

Their eyes met for a moment as they caught each other's double meanings--Willow acknowledging that she had finally caught on to his true reason for leaving her alone that night, and Spike's admitting that what she had said about his desire to feed from her again was in many ways true.

Finally, she braced herself and leaned toward him, exposing the bite fully once again. Spike waited for her nod of approval, pausing only for a moment to revel in the fact that she still trusted him, before pouring the amber liquid liberally over the wound. The instant it touched her opened flesh she cried out in agony, the burning sensation so intense that she had to fight the need to grab the bottle away from him. Her eyes squeezed shut against the searing pain, and she clutched at the vampire blindly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her nails digging into his back and chest. Spike continued pouring until he was satisfied that he had thoroughly cleansed the wound, while his free arm wrapped around her, holding her as her small body thrashed against the pain. He set the half-empty bottle on the night stand and held her tightly until her cries of anguish subsided. Eventually, she withdrew from his strangely comforting arms, wiping her tears away. Again she looked anywhere but at him, and her eyes landed on the bed, now stained with blood and whiskey. "Sorry about your bed," she said sheepishly.

"Don't worry...as soon as you fall asleep I am going to wring the sheets out and have myself a little cocktail. Care for a Bloody Mary?"

She grinned and shook her head playfully, amazed at how he could always make her smile. "I think those are made with vodka, so I guess that would make this a Bloody Willow?"

They laughed for a moment before he realized how uncomfortable she must be in her drenched and bloodied clothing. "You look a sight, Red. I'll get you some things then give you some privacy." He went down into the warehouse and fetched some clean water and then gave her a clean shirt from his wardrobe. "Get cleaned up, then I'll change the sheets so you can get some rest." He met her eyes briefly. "Later, when you are up to it, you can tell me what happened with you and the Irish wanker." When Willow smiled her thanks, he went on, "And, when the sun sets, I'll try to get some bandages and something for you to eat."

"Thank you..."

Spike moved to the door, intending to wait in the warehouse while she changed. He turned around just as he was about to leave. "The pillock didn't, um, *hurt* you, did he, Willow?" His gentle words didn't hide the meaning of the question.

"No, Spike, he didn't...hurt me...in that way..."

He nodded his head, then a familiar sly smile returned to his face. "Willow, if you need any help removing your clothes, I do have a bit of experience in that area...."

She rolled her eyes at him as she had done a thousand times before at his sexual innuendo, but exhaustion was catching up to her. She was too tired to play, so she just glared at him briefly.

"Suit yourself..." he said with a shrug, closing the door behind him. As the vampire descended into the warehouse, a thousand questions came to mind about her encounter with his sire and how she had managed to get back here, but they could wait until she was stronger. They had both been through enough for one night.

Willow somehow managed to peel off the wet and soiled clothing, then slowly washed away the dirt, at least the surface dirt, anyway. She felt like she needed to soak in a long, hot bath for hours before she would ever be clean again, but for now she made do with the cold water Spike had gotten for her. After drying off, she slipped into his large shirt and rested a moment before slowly managing to make her way to the sofa on the far end of the room.

It wasn't much later that Spike knocked. "Got all your bits and pieces covered?"

"As much as your shirt will cover anyway."

Spike smirked but didn't leer at her. He figured after being with Angelus she had probably had enough of that for one night, and her display earlier was proof. He quickly went about changing the sheets on the bed, while Willow continued to lie on the couch and watch him. Even though she was exhausted, she managed to keep her eyes open as she watched the vampire neatly tuck in the sheets and turn down the duvet. she thought as she took a quick glance around the very clean attic. 

After smoothing out a few wrinkles, he gestured to the bed. "Why don't you get a good kip, love? You'll feel better after some sleep."

"But whe--"

"I'll sleep on the couch until you are well and we can get you back to the pub," he interrupted, knowing full well what she was going to say. "Although, I am sure I could be persuaded to--"

It was Willow's turn to interrupt, also knowing precisely what he was about to allude to. "Not tonight, my husband. I have a headache," she teased back. Willow stood to move to the bed, making sure that the shirt was covering the important 'bits and pieces,' but she was struck by a sudden wave of dizziness.

Without a word, Spike swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed. Willow was too tired to put up even a token protest and she laid her head against his shoulder for the short journey across the room. Even after what had happened earlier, she felt safe with this vampire.

She didn't know where the words came from, but as Spike sat on the bed with her, still cradling her frail form in his arms, they slipped out. "Why me?" She said it in a whisper that even Spike could barely hear.

"Sorry, luv? I didn't catch that," he lied as he set her down on the bed, pulling the covers over her bare legs.

She looked up into his face, her red eyes a heartbreaking contrast to her pale cheeks. "Why did you have to bring me? Why did you have to ruin my life just to save your precious Drusilla?" Sometimes it felt like she had been waiting forever to ask him those questions...and, more importantly, for the answers.

Spike was totally caught off guard, but the only hint of this was in the pursing of his lips. "I'm not sure, Willow. You just seemed like the logical choice," he said flatly, tucking her in as if she were a child.

She snorted. "Logical? Logic has nothing to do with this, Spike. Besides the obvious complete lack of rationality regarding just the whole 'back in time to save your dead lover' business, there are other things...I mean, Xander was a virgin, too! Why didn't you take him?"

"Xander?" he queried.

Willow sighed. "*Xapper*?"

"Oh..." he said with a nod as the boy's face finally connected with the name. "Oh! Hell, no! Are you daft, woman? I would kill that boy if I had to spend more than 10 minutes with him. Don't know what you ever saw in the git, or the wolf for that matter...although, I must say I liked his hair..."

Willow couldn't suppress a half-smile. It was a combination of images flashing through her head that did it--pictures of Spike and Oz having a beer and discussing hair dye...flashes of Xander and Spike living together in Galway... 

"Besides," Spike continued. "There is no one I would rather muck-up history with than you." he groaned within. Yet, still he waited anxiously for her response, expecting her to pull away or laugh, or even get angry with him again, but she kept looking at him as if trying to judge his sincerity.

"Except Drusilla, you mean," Willow said softly. Her green eyes captured his steel blue ones for a moment, but neither pair was willing to reveal their owner's thoughts.

Finally, the vampire forced a chuckle and stood up, walking to the other side of the bed. Just before he turned the oil lamp down, Willow noticed her cross lying on the small table, but she didn't reach for it. She knew she wouldn't need it with Spike anymore. With the lamp off, the room was very dark, even during the day. The only light came from the small window near the high ceiling on the opposite wall which brought in no direct light. Spike had chosen his home wisely. "Get some rest, love. I think we both could use it. It's been a very odd day."

Willow could barely see Spike as her eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, but she heard him removing some clothing and eventually settling down on the sofa. "Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about what I did earlier...what I said..."

There was no immediate answer, and Willow strained to see or hear the vampire on the other side of the room.

Finally, his words came to her waiting ears. "Don't fret, Pet. I've forgotten about it already."

"Thank you...for everything," she said even softer, then snuggled deeper into the bed to get comfortable.

Spike waited for the telltale signs that she was asleep...the slowed heartbeat and deep breathing...before whispering. "Anytime, Willow. Anytime..."

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