Angel paced on the sidewalk. He had been tempted to seek Spike out, but then Penelope wouldn't know where to find them. He was beginning to think he should get them cell phones, which would work out if he ever remembered to carry the one that he already had.

He had to admit, he was almost looking forward to the imminent battle. Spike always had a good fight in him, but Angel still always won. Fun all around. Well, maybe not for Spike. He wondered if this time would be different. He'd seen Spike reduce a barroom to a museum of shredded flesh and entrails in a fit of insane rage. But Angel had never had that particular brand of anger directed at him. It didn't matter. He knew how to handle Spike.

The street was deserted as far as his eyes could see. Any vampires had quickly moved on to less dangerous places, and even the humans out this late had sensed an uneasiness and scurried away. He suspected that anyone within a half mile of Spike had the urge to flee.

Angel's pacing stopped abruptly as Spike's presence dwindled to almost nothing. Emotions no longer permeated the air, but there was still a faint thrumming all around him. And he could smell the unmistakable scent of his Childe.

"Just because I can't see you doesn't mean I don't know you're there." He heard the smack of combat boots on the pavement, as if Spike had swooped down from the roof of the building. When he turned, the blond vampire was leaning against a lamppost, arms crossed over his chest.

"But it's still bloody annoying, isn't it?" Spike had a small smile on his face.

"What do you want, Spike?" Angel growled. He was expecting something like "Stay away from Willow," or "She's mine, bugger off," or "Touch her again and I'll kill you, you great big poof." So what Spike actually said threw him.

"I want to talk."

"About what?"

"About your day. Willow came to see you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, she did."

"What happened?"

Angel couldn't stop the small frown that creased his brow. Spike had to know exactly what happened, otherwise he wouldn't be here. Mind games weren't Spike's style. "I introduced her to the team."

Spike didn't blink. "What else?"

Angel sighed and took a step towards him. "What the hell--"

"What. Else," Spike said, his voice low and dangerous. His lips were still curved in a tiny smile, and Angel realized that he looked sort of, well . . . crazy. Suddenly wary, he halted his forward momentum and studied his Childe. Spike hadn't moved, hadn't blinked, hadn't changed his statement the entire time they'd been talking. All the anger that pounded the city was now wrapped tightly within Spike's body, ready to explode. He couldn't believe that Spike was getting so wound up over a kiss.

"You happy with your life? Got everything you want?" Spike seemed to change subjects yet again. "Feed yet today?"

Angel snapped. "Cut the bullshit Spike. Just say what you want to say, make your empty threats, throw a couple of punches and then be on your way." Very quickly, Angel found himself pinned to the sidewalk. He hadn't even seen Spike coming.

"Watch your mouth, Peaches. I'm not your William anymore."

He was faster than Angel remembered. Blue eyes bored into his, and he was shocked by the amount of hate he saw in them. This had to be about more than just a kiss. There was something he wasn't getting. Maybe Spike had finally lost it. He was eerily calm in a situation where Angel knew he would have thrown the first punch, relishing the fight, being cocky, mouthing off. This Spike was doing none of those things. Angel's uneasiness increased.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, Spike's weight was gone. Angel blinked a few times, and watched his Childe standing a few feet away. "Get up, you pillock. We've got unfinished business."

Slowly, trying to make sense of Spike's demeanor, Angel got to his feet. "And what would that be?"

"I'm going to kill you."

Angel suddenly realized the seriousness of the situation. He didn't know the why or how come of it--Spike really wanted to kill him. This wasn't just another show of bravado, trying to prove he could hold his own against his Sire. This was meant to be a battle to the death. He didn't want to die any more than he wanted to kill his Childe, but Spike obviously didn't have the same objections. He didn't know what to do, but he didn't have much time to think about it. He barely had enough time to duck out of the way of the boot that was flying at his head.

And so it began.

They traded blows evenly at first, each knowing the other's move before he made it. Spike would aim a kick at Angel's midsection, Angel would block it with his arm. Angel would send his fist flying towards Spike's jaw, Spike would spin out of the way. It was like a carefully choreographed fight scene without the loud music and the requisite one-liners. Then Angel felt Spike's blunt nails slash across his cheek, leaving a gaping wound. The smell of his own blood and Spike's grim look of triumph infuriated him. He snarled and launched himself at the vampire that had been the bane of, and the reason for, his existence over the past 150 years.

He punched, he kicked, he slashed--nothing seemed to faze Spike. A blow to the side of the head only stopped him for a second, and Angel began to wonder how long this was going to go on. All that could be heard in the street was snarls and growls, heavy breathing more out of instinct than any real need. Angel swept Spike's feet out from under him. Before he could even let out a startled "Oof," Angel pounced, and banged his head against the concrete.

"Why don't you tell me what this is really about?" Spike struggled to get up but Angel bore down with all the strength he possessed. If they were really going to kill each other, he'd like to know why before it happened. What was it with everyone taking up his cryptic routine? Angel slammed Spike's head against the ground once more for good measure. "Explain yourself, boy."

For the first time, Spike betrayed his calm exterior. "You took her away," he spat, eyes flashing. "Did you really have to have her that badly?"

Angel knew Spike could only be talking about Willow, but was completely turned around by the younger vampire's words. So when Spike smashed his forehead against Angel's face, he was too distracted to do anything roll backwards, clutching his throbbing nose. Spike arched his back and flipped onto his feet effortlessly. The air was growing thick with his emotions, nearly causing it to crackle with electricity. Angel wiped the dripping blood from his face, waiting for the explosion that was sure to come. Spike's foot connected with his ribs and he barely suppressed a howl of pain. The next time Spike came near, he was ready.

"Why'd you do it? Why couldn't you bloody well leave her alone?"

Angel caught Spike's foot and threw him onto his back, but Spike was up again a second later. It was enough time for Angel to get to his feet. He could feel the demon within screaming to be let out. It's cry for bloodshed was one that Angel found it hard to disagree with. He felt his features shift, and snarled through a mouthful of sharp teeth. In response, Spike's human face melted away and he quickly began to advance. Just then Angel heard the slamming of car doors and Penelope's voice.

"Angel!"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Mac running full speed toward Spike. He tried to warn Mac, but by the time he'd gotten his demon under control, Spike had already flipped the demon over his body as if he were a feather and not two hundred pounds of supernatural muscle. Mac's body flew into the alley, and he lay motionless among the piles of garbage.

Sean cried out in anger, and suddenly Spike was surrounded by a ball of blue light. A ward, Angel realized, wondering how long the young warlock could hold the spell. He began to relax slightly, intent on knocking his Childe unconscious, tying him up, and then getting some answers after a sound beating.

Spike stepped through the ward, the magicks rippling around him like nothing more than water. He settled yellow eyes on his would-be captor. Angel was further baffled when Spike began to stalk towards the car, looking as if he was going to harm Sean. Penelope stepped in front of the stunned warlock, holding a wooden cross that could double as a stake due to its wickedly sharp end. She met Spike's predatory gaze with one of her own.

"Don't worry, Pen. He can't hurt you."

The yellow eyes sliced back through the darkness, and Spike let a feral grin slip loose. "Don't be so sure about that, Angelus," he whispered, so that only Angel's vampiric hearing would pick it up. That could only mean one thing. The chip was gone, or no longer working. For the first time that evening, Angel felt a prickle of real fear. He glanced between his Childe and his employees. There was no way he could get to them before Spike.

"Leave them out of it, boy. This is between you and me." Whatever 'this' was, he added to himself. As expected, Spike growled at the use of the word boy, and turned back to Angel.

"Penelope. Sean. Go check Mac." They stared at him unbelievingly. "Go," he said, firming his tone. "Stay out of the way." Avoiding Spike the best they could, they made their way to the alley. Angel and Spike began to circle each other.

"It must have drove you crazy not to have her. To know that I was the one who held her, who kissed her, who loved her." Spike leapt at him, and for a minute their limbs were nothing but a blur. Angel felt the satisfying snap of bone beneath his palm. He heard Spike's wail of rage and pain, and then he felt himself fly through the air. Not only was Spike faster than he remembered, he was also stronger. He could still feel Spike's foot in his gut despite the fact that he was lying ten feet away. Angel got to his feet, trying to recall the last time he'd been knocked on his ass so many times.

Spike's lower lip was split and dripping blood by the pint. Angel wasn't sure if he'd done it, or if Spike had cut his own lip on his sharp fangs. His left arm dangled useless at his side, the collarbone snapped and the joint dislocated. Still he kept coming.

"So you had to take her, just like you have to take everything else. You weren't satisfied with taking my life, with taking Druscilla, keeping the Slayer's heart so that she couldn't love me no matter what I did. And now Willow. You don't deserve her. You deserve to die for what you did to her."

Angel had enough of Spike's puzzling accusations. "And just what was it that I did?!" he yelled, knocking Spike in the side. The blond vampire only paused for a half second before letting out a growl that reverberated throughout the whole street. He grabbed Angel and slammed him against the closest building, spitting and snarling in his Sire's face. "You turned her, you bastard." His words were slightly distorted with rage, but Angel understood well enough.

He felt as if he were falling, even though Spike had him securely pinned to the wall, his feet actually dangling an inch or two above the pavement. It was like when he had been sent to Hell. A sudden clear and terrifying awareness washed over him that something terrible had happened. A yawning pit opened up within his chest, and he felt his heart and mind being torn apart. Willow had been turned. It was impossible. But why would Spike lie? And why would Spike think that he'd done it? And again: Willow had been turned. He was brought back to reality by Spike shaking him.

"Look at me, you sonofabitch." Spike shook his head, and his human features replaced those of the demon. Angel suddenly felt something hard and pointy pressing against his chest, and he looked down to discover that it was connected to Spike's hand. He was too shocked at everything that had suddenly happened to put up a fight. The pressure was quickly increasing.

"As you die, I want you to know it was me that killed you. Not some demon. It was me. Spike. Your Childe."
 
 

~Part: 12~

Angel felt the point of the stake pierce the skin above his heart. As the pain increased, so did his conviction.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

As for how it was supposed to happen, he wasn't sure. Just not like this. Not at the hands of an wrathful Childe seeking revenge for something Angel hadn't even done. For turning Willow. Angel felt his own anger bubbling to the surface. Whomever had done that would pay dearly, and he'd be damned if it wasn't by his own hand.

Angel wrapped his fingers around the stake, meeting Spike's startled blue eyes with his determined ones. He pushed against the stake, and little by little it became dislodged from his chest.

"You'll have to kill me some other time, Spike."

Spike opened his mouth to say something, but an earsplitting shriek rent the air. Angel watched as his Childe was ripped from him, landing unconscious in the middle of the street. With the loss of support, Angel crumpled to the sidewalk. Penelope was on him in an instant, checking his wounds and asking him if he was okay. He batted away her inquisitive hands and tried to sit up, wincing as he aggravated his chest wound. His only thoughts were of what happened to Spike.

Willow was staggering down the street. He tensed as she fell to her knees, but then she continued to crawl toward Spike's still form. Angel watched her fuss over him, feeling a slight pang of bitterness. He was the one who had been inches away from death, and she was worried about Spike? He could see her lips moving as she ran her hands over his body, and when she got to his arm, she deftly twisted it back into the joint. Angel grimaced in sympathy as Spike's body jerked in pain despite his unconscious state. She lowered her face to his and kissed him softly on the lips. Then she turned angry eyes on Angel.

He gulped, despite the fact that it took her considerable effort to get up and shuffle towards him. He wondered what had happened to make her so weak. Was it the turning? Her eyes were bright with animosity and unshed tears. When she bent down to pick up the bloodstained stake, Penelope tensed beside him.

"Angel," the ex-Watcher whispered. "She's--"

"I know," he interupted lowly, placing a restraining hand on her arm.

Sean, unaware of the tension as usual, jogged over to Willow. "Nice work Would've had to take orders from a pile of dust if it weren't for you."

"I didn't do it to save Angel," she hissed at him.

Angel felt the hole in his chest grow that much larger at her words. What had he done to make these people hate him so much? He clutched at his wound, as if stopping the bleeding would stop the pain he was suddenly feeling. He met Willow's eyes, and her statement melted to one of regret.

"I'm sorry," she said, sinking to his side. "Are you ok?" She sniffled, and placed her hand on his stomach. She thrust the stake at him sideways, her head down. "Take it before I stake him."

Penelope lunged for it, but Angel grabbed it first, halting Penelope. "She means Spike," he said, half questioning, half sure.

Willow raised her face and nodded slightly, grateful for the understanding. Then he watched determination cloud her eyes. She straightened and closed her eyes, reaching out to touch his face. He pulled back with a hiss when her fingers brushed over his broken nose and probed the gash on his cheek. She cracked open one eye and gave him a disapproving stare. Hold still. He got it. Angel braced himself as she poked at him, whispering in Latin.

He couldn't help but stare at her lips as she spoke the healing words. The painful itching as his bone and skin fused back together was nothing compared to the sudden longing that had sprung up within him. He'd almost lost her, even before he'd had her. And that was more terrifying than the idea that he'd almost died. When he tangled one hand in her hair her eyes popped open, but she made no move to stop him. He pulled her face toward his, stopping when the gentle pressure of her lips met his. He tried to pour everything he had into the meeting of their mouths--his confusion, his relief. Fear, longing, regret, love. She finally pulled away, looking at him with gentle acceptance. A tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away.

"Let's get that heart fixed up, shall we?"

Angel wondered if she met emotionally as well as physically, but remained silent. Instead he concentrated on the feeling of her hands moving over him. He couldn't smell her, or hear her heart, but that was no different than when she'd come to see him before . . .

He was suddenly struck by a wave of happiness so strong it almost made him dizzy. Her spells were still up. He smiled at her. "You're not a vampire."

"No, I'm not," she confirmed, fighting back a yawn. "Angel?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to pass out now, 'kay?"

"Okay." He wrapped his arms around her as she settled her head against his shoulder.

Just before she surrendered to unconsciousness she muttered, "Stupid vampires." There was a tiny smile on her face.

Angel finally tore his eyes from her peaceful face to look around him. Penelope arched one delicate brow at him as if to say, "Just old friends, eh?" He ignored her knowing stare and looked at Sean.

"Mac?"

Sean waved his hand. "I did this wake up spell on him. He'll come around any second now. Got a good knock on the head, but other than that he's fine."

Angel relaxed even further, and as if on cue they heard a groan and a "What the . . .?" Penelope and Sean went to give Mac a hand. A minute later he teetered out of the alley under his own power. His eyes immediately fell on the blond vampire in the street.

"Who the hell is that anyway? Pretty strong for such a skinny vampire."

Sean voiced his own concern. "Yeah. And my magic had no effect on him at all."

Angel had been wondering about those things himself. Penelope glanced between them and her boss, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's Spike, isn't it?"

Nodding, he answered, "Yeah." He gathered Willow in his arms and hefted himself to his feet. Still a little shaky, but overall he felt all right. As for Willow and Spike . . .

"We better get these guys back to the hotel. The sun's coming up soon." Nobody else evidently knew that 'these guys' meant more than one person. His latest employees all began to make their way to Sean's car, leaving Spike forgotten in the middle of the street. He glanced back at his Childe, concern marring his features. They couldn't just leave him there, but aparently that's what everyone else meant to do. He stepped over to Sean and prompted him to take Willow from his arms. He sighed at the loss of contact, and ignored the surprised faces around him.

"I'll meet you guys there." He handed them one of the keys to his hotel room and walked over to Spike. His face looked almost peaceful, if you could see past the blood and bruises. He lifted Spike over his shoulder, mindful of his injured shoulder, and headed down the street to his parked car.

He'd get his answers later. Right now, there were two people who needed him.
 
 

~Part: 13~

Spike floated in a sea of his own thoughts. He jumped from one to the other, not really feeling, just observing. He remembered being angry. Something had happened to Willow. He was going to kill his Sire. He wasn't sure why.

There had been a fight. He remembered pressing a wooden stake into Angel's chest. A dawning realization came over him. He was going to kill his Sire--was killing his Sire. He felt his eyes go wide with surprise. He couldn't do it. He'd never be able to live with himself.

A voice in his head kept chanting "For Willow, for what he did to her. For Willow." But this fight was no longer about Willow, if it had every really been. It was about Spike and Angel. It had always been about Spike and Angel.

This just wasn't how it was supposed to be.

And then a blast of furious Wicca magic hit him and he watched himself falling forever into oblivion.

Willow slowly became aware that she was in bed, and it was not her own. A glance to her left revealed Spike, his mouth hanging open as he slept. A rush of protectiveness washed over her. She let out a quiet sigh, running the backs of her fingers over his slightly battered face. He didn't stir at her touch. She breathed deeply, stretching out her stiff limbs. She was immediately surrounded by the smell of cinnamon. Oh goddess, she thought. I'm in trouble. A faint cough from the other side of the bed drew her attention. Angel was sitting in a chair watching her intently. She rolled onto her side and tucked her hands up under her head.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

Once again his face was unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking. Then she thought back to the gentle kiss he'd given her on the street. All right. Maybe she did know what he was thinking.

"How are you feeling?"

Now that the clamor of Spike's mind had stopped, a lot better. It also helped that the worries about the dustiness of either vampire were gone. She studied him for a moment before answering, "I'm fine." He looked relaxed despite his battered state and the present company. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, and she could see the still-healing scar over his heart. It was an angry red welt on the otherwise smooth expanse of skin. A brief flash of heat flared in the pit of her belly, which she tried to quash. And with an unconscious Spike lying in the bed next to you! her conscience declared in that outraged matronly voice. Shut up, she told it.

It was hard to think of anything but the man that was sitting across from her, what with the way his thigh muscles kept flexing, drawing her eyes to his crotch, and the bulge that was beginning to appear there. How could she not think of him when she was lying in a soft silk-covered bed, big enough for three people to be comfortable . . .

She tore her eyes away, wondering if he could smell her, hear her heart racing. If her spells were still in place, she'd be okay.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost a day. The sun just set." He smirked, letting her know that he saw right through her simple question. Her 24 hours was up, and there was no hiding behind her magic. She was in so much trouble.

Willow laughed weakly. "I guess that's what I get for living with a vampire."

"That's what you get for being exhausted," he said. "Tell me what happened."

She sat up and slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Well, it was mostly the spells. Those kind can take a lot out of you. And then the nightmare--" She shut her eyes for a second, pushing away the images that flew at her. "--And then Spike. I could feel his anger through the bond. It was overwhelming, immobilizing. I can't even remember how I got to you."

After a pause Angel said, "I'm sorry."

She frowned at him. "For what?"

"For kissing you. If I had controlled myself--I can't help but think that none of this would have happened."

"Angel, don't you think I've already thought of that?" She got to her feet and walked to stand in front of him. "Believe me, the blame is squarely on the shoulders of either me or Spike. I'm voting Spike."

Angel chuckled and slid his arms around her waist. When she ran her hand over his head he began to nuzzle his face against her abdomen. Willow would never understand how his hair could look so hard and spiky but be as soft as an animal pelt. As she continued to play with his dark locks, a rumbling began in his chest that sent vibrations straight to her core.

She lowered her head and urged him to look at her. "I'm sorry that I ran out on you yesterday."

"Don't be. I pushed a little too hard."

"It's not that. It's just, you were always so gentle with everyone. And then you were forceful. It startled me." Before he could apologize again, she put a finger to his lips. The words flew from her lips before she could even think about stopping them. "Besides, I like it rough."

His eyes darkened immediately. "Willow," he growled.

She smiled even though his look was making her knees begin to tremble. "What am I going to do with you?"

He pulled her closer, nipping at her belly through the fabric of her shirt. His fingers danced over her waist, down her legs, and up over her backside. "Do you really want me to answer that, Willow?"

Her fingers clenched in his hair as she let out a tiny moan, unknowingly pushing her pelvis against him. "No," she breathed.

His reaction was immediate. The rumbling changed from a soothing purr to something lower, more dangerous. He filled his nostrils with the scent of her arousal and stiffened against her. Willow ran her fingers down his neck, over his shoulders, down his arms, shivering as the powerful muscles bunched under her touch. She tugged at him until he got to his feet and stared down at her with amber-flecked eyes.

"We need to talk," she told him.

"Talking is overrated."

She couldn't help the wry grin that tugged at her mouth. Even with the tendrils of desire shooting through every vein in her body she managed to say, "You would think that, wouldn't you?"

As his face inched closer and closer, Willow let her eyes flutter shut, preparing for the inevitable kiss. This one wouldn't be soft and timid. Not if she had any say in the matter. Spike wouldn't mind, she told herself absently. They both froze as a knock came, followed by a female voice saying, "Angel? We're getting a little impatient out here."

Willow looked to the bedroom doors and finally realized where they must be. Angel's hotel room. Which meant that was . . .

"Penelope," she said in greeting, pulling the doors open. The young woman was surprised for a moment, and then she frowned and looked over Willow's shoulder.

"Willow. You're awake. Angel?"

Willow glanced back and saw that Angel had spun around and was now absently rearranging the objects on the nightstand. His posture was decidedly tense. Hiding his erection from the ex-Watcher's inquiring gaze.

Penelope shrugged and smiled at Willow. "I'm sure you're hungry. We ordered room service, so help yourself."

********

"How can you eat so much?"

Willow paused with a pickle halfway to her mouth. Angel was staring at her in astonishment. "What do you mean?" she asked him. She always ate this much. Slaying demons and vampires and expending magical energy on a nightly basis took a lot out of a girl. She reached for another helping of perogies, but they were gone. So too, was the ham. And the corn.

All right. So maybe she was eating a lot. But she was totally burnt out, and hadn't eaten in over a day. And where had those rolls been hiding?

"Using a lot of magic can drain a person. Witches need to eat and sleep more than the average person to keep their energy levels up," Sean stated knowingly.

"Yeah," she agreed. "That and Spike," she added without thinking. Four pairs of rounded eyes turned on her. But only one of them mattered. When she realized what she said, she met Angel's gaze. Heat flared between them, and Willow had to resist the urge to crawl across the table into his lap. She wouldn't want to let any of this wonderful food go to waste. Plus, there were people watching. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"You've lived with him. Didn't he drain your energy?"

"And my patience."

"I read an account of a Watcher in Seattle who speculated that Spike had ADHD," Penelope broke in thoughtfully.

Willow allowed a sly grin to cross her face. "Oh, I think Angel knows exactly how draining his Childe can be on one's stamina." His eyes didn't waver from hers, but darkened slightly at the innuendo. This time, the rounded eyes were on Angel.

She knew exactly how they'd spent those early years together, in between the maiming and the terrorizing and the killing: in bed. Well, not usually in a bed. Any place would do. Tables, haylofts, fresh water streams. Chained to one of the gates on London Bridge. She had picked up clues about their 'pre-soul' relationship from many of the Watcher's Diaries she'd gotten her hands on over the years. The rest she'd gleaned from Spike after plying him with sex and copious amounts of whiskey.

Sean finally broke the silence. "Speaking of Spike, I've got a few questions.

Willow turned her smoldering gaze on him. "Shoot."
 
 

~Part: 14~

Angel watched as Sean actually gulped and stepped back under the power of Willow's stare.

"Shoot," she said.

"I, uh. Yeah. I put up a ward around Spike," he finally got out. "He stepped right through it."

Willow began eating a roll slathered with butter. "He's already got a protection spell on him. It's designed to guard him from other magic," she said between bites. Angel tracked every movement of her small hands. It was all he could do not to heave the table out of the way and pounce on her. Did she really need to lick her fingers like that?

"Oh. But then how did you . . . you know. Blast him."

"When I said other magic, I meant magic other than mine. No one else can hurt him, but he's still at my mercy." Was she talking about him, or about Spike now? She caught his hungry stare, and he could see the amusement sparkling in her eyes. Vixen. Now she was popping grapes in between those soft, supple lips.

"Did that spell also include super-strength?" Mac wondered, speaking up for the first time. "I got KO'ed in about five seconds."

She shook her head. "Sorry. That would have been him working on pure adrenaline. You know, like old ladies lifting up cars to save kids trapped underneath."

Mac smiled at her. "I don't know whether I feel better or worse."

Angel kept his own thoughts too himself. Spike was strong. Stronger than he should have been. The hole in Angel's chest could attest to that. And it wasn't just the adrenaline that was causing it. Then he noticed that Willow was absently running her fingers over the base of her throat. His pants were becoming tighter and tighter by the second. Unheeding of his company, he closed his eyes and let her flood his senses. Her heartbeat was a loud and steady pulse of reassurance echoing in his ears. Not a vampire, he kept telling himself. Not a--sweet Jesus.

His eyes flew open to fixate on a smug looking Willow. Her foot was slowly making it's way up his leg, over his knee. He clutched a coffee mug, and tiny cracks began to appear on its surface. His thoughts began to alternate between "She wouldn't dare" and "Please God let her do it." When her toe whispered across his straining erection he jumped, knocking over some glasses. He glared at her, mentally telegraphing "I'll get you for that." She just smirked back at him.

Mac and Sean gave Angel a funny look, and then Sean said, "So what are we going to do about Spike?"

Angel and Willow shifted to stare at him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, he attacked Angel. He's dangerous. If it wasn't for you, Angel would be d--"

"Absolutely fine," Angel cut in. "This is between me and Spike. I'll handle it."

Penelope sat down beside him. "Besides, he has that chip. He can't hurt any humans."

Angel watched Willow's face carefully. She lied with ease. "Right. No worries." Pretending to scratch his thigh, he reached under the table and grabbed the foot that was in his lap. Thank god for table cloths. He squeezed her foot, trying to get her attention without being obvious. When she glanced at him, he gave her a hard look. He knew the chip wasn't working. Spike was dangerous. He'd almost gone after Sean.

"He is dangerous to Angel, though," Sean said. "We should keep an eye on him."

"Spike won't hurt Angel," Willow protested lightly, sounding assured. Angel wondered where her confidence came from.

"Are you kidding?" Sean exclaimed. "Spike nearly killed him."

"Sean," Penelope warned. He ignored her.

"We should have left him on the street. I saw the look in his eyes. He wanted to kill me."

Angel growled at his employee. If anyone was going to hurt his Childe, it was going to be him. But his reaction was nothing compared to Willow's. She was on her feet in an instant, seething with an anger that had appeared out of nowhere.

Dangerously, she said, "If you so much as go near him with any wooden object bigger than a splinter, I will kill you."

The threat hovered in the air, silencing everyone. Sean bristled, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Angel shivered involuntarily, wondering what she would have done to him if he had killed Spike. She was like a normally docile tiger whose young were being threatened. Their was no fiercer female than that, no way to defend yourself against an attack. It was then that Angel realized the extent of Willow's love for his Childe. She would kill an innocent to protect him. To protect a demon that himself had killed hundreds of innocents.

But don't you feel the same way? something inside him prodded. Why did you bring him back here, out of the deadly rays of the sun? Why did you cradle his head in your lap on the way to the hotel? Why did you lay him so tenderly on your bed? And if Willow was so concerned about Spike's safety, why wasn't she by his side right now like Angel had the sudden urge to be?

His last thought was canceled out as Willow abruptly said, "I'm going to check on Spike."

Angel made a move to follow her, but Penelope placed her hand on his shoulder and shook her head. "I'll go. You keep an eye on Mr. Tact, here," she said, shooting a pointed glance at Sean before following Willow into the bedroom.

Sean had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry. I didn't realize . . . You don't think--She really wouldn't, you know . . . kill me."

Angel just raised his eyebrows. He was pretty sure that Willow would, indeed, go to that length to protect her bond-mate. But he didn't want Sean to know that.

Penelope watched Willow as she tenderly brushed Spike's bleached locks back from his forehead. It still baffled her to no end how someone could love a soulless demon. Especially this soulless demon. If it wasn't for the fact that he had that chip in his head rendering him harmless to humans, she would have staked him in an instant. Or died trying. No matter how Willow or Angel felt about him.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked softly.

Willow nodded, tucking the covers more securely around his lean frame. "All I did was overpower him with psychic energy. Plus he's got a hard head. He'll wake up in a few hours."

"He did almost kill Angel, you know." Willow looked at her sharply, and Penelope kept her face as neutral as possible.

"What we perceive isn't always reality."

"And what is reality?"

Willow didn't answer right away, and Penelope could see the gears turning behind her eyes. She was debating what to say.

"How much do you know about Spike, Penelope?"

She was surprised by the question and immediately answered, "A lot." She mentally kicked herself for her hasty reply. Unlike Sean, she had no doubts about Willow's intentions to kill anyone who tried to harm the sleeping vampire. She knew all too well about killing to protect the ones you loved. The ones you had loved.

Willow's eyes narrowed to bright green slits. "Really?"

Before Willow could look any more suspicious, Penelope joked, "Of course. William the Bloody is required reading in the Watcher's Council."

"Right. The Watcher's Council." Willow relaxed slightly, and stood up, coming towards Penelope. "And how much did the Council teach you about the relationship between Childe and Sire? Specifically, between Angel and Spike?"

Now Penelope was lost. She knew they had been inseparable after Angel turned Spike, but once Spike found out about Angel's soul, they became bitter enemies. He even teamed up with the Slayer to destroy his Sire. Then something Angel said came back to her. "Spike and I don't have the best relationship, but he's still my Childe."

"Are you saying that Spike had no intention of killing Angel? He was just trying to prove some point?"

"Oh no. I'm sure that Spike had every intention of killing Angel. But would you actually kill your parents if you had the opportunity? Even if they had made you so angry you couldn't see straight?"

Her repulsion at the idea must have showed on her face, because Willow chuckled softly. "Vampires really aren't all that different from humans, no matter what the Council tries to tell everyone."

Penelope begged to differ, but she respected Willow. Still, that wouldn't stop her from keeping a close eye on Spike. A sudden thought occurred to her. If something were to happen to Spike, how would that affect the bond? What would happen to Willow?

"I don't know if this is the best time for this, but--"

"You want to know about the bond, don't you?"

Penelope stared into Willow's knowing eyes. "That obvious, huh?"

"Once a Watcher always a Watcher. I thought maybe Angel would have told you."

"He told me it wasn't his place to tell."

"He was right." Willow smiled to soften her words. "Why don't we get together sometime? Have a little girl talk?"

Penelope nodded. "All right. Just let me know when." She turned to leave, but Willow stopped her just as she was reaching for the door.

"Oh, and Penelope? You might as well bring a notebook, because I know you'll write it all down anyway the first chance you get."

She smiled at the witch, feeling the beginnings of a friendship warm her belly. With a seemingly casual glance at the vampire who had inadvertently steered the course of her life, she left the room.

No matter how she felt about Willow, Spike would pay. She would make sure of it.
 
 

~Part: 15~

Willow could smell him the moment he neared the door. She willed away her quivering arousal, but couldn't bring herself to turn around. She knew once she did, she'd be completely and utterly lost. Instead, she focused on Spike. In his sleep, he had thrown back the covers that she had so carefully wrapped around him. Her eyes traced over the sharp planes of his face, across broad shoulders, down his torso, until the blankets concealed him from her questing gaze. Still, she knew every plane and valley of his body, every muscle that lay beneath his pale skin. The blanket couldn't conceal her own memories.

She wanted him to wake up. One, so she could kiss him for being alive, two, so she could smack him for running off like a damn fool. She wanted to strip off her dirty clothes and slip into the bed, curl around the comforting coolness of his body. She wanted to wrap her lips around his cock to see how long it took him to come around. Willow grinned at her own bad pun and groaned silently. Her desire was so strong she could almost smell herself. And that meant Angel definitely could. When he finally spoke, she realized he was still standing in the doorway.

"He'll be okay."

"I know. I can feel him."

"You love him, don't you?"

Willow knew what he really meant. You're so in love that you'd kill for him. You'd give up your soul if he was safe. She couldn't deny that those things were true. She had nothing against Sean, but the mere idea that anyone would hurt Spike, especially when he was vulnerable, pushed her over the edge. She'd lost it. At least Penelope didn't seem too shocked by her behavior. Willow was past the time when it mattered to her what other people thought, so she let it go. Her mind drifted back to the few words she and Angel had just shared. They were strangely familiar . . . She risked looking at Angel over her shoulder. He was leaning lazily in the doorway.

"Isn't this when I confess to you that Spike is actually my brother and we live happily ever after?"

Angel smirked. "I always considered myself to be more of a Luke than a Han Solo."

She couldn't stop her mouth from falling open a little at the fact that he'd understood her reference to Star Wars. The Angel she knew wouldn't have known George Lucas from George Harrison from George Bush. Once again she was amazed by how much different he was. Perhaps Cordelia had actually accomplished the daunting task of 'modernizing' Angel, like she had always been threatening to.

The top half of his shirt was undone again. Pop culture references weren't the only thing he'd come to terms with. He seemed more sexual, and she was reminded briefly of Angelus. A shudder ran through her, not entirely from fear. Though Angelus had terrorized them, had almost killed her, there was a part of her that always thrilled when he was near. It had taken her months to admit to herself that 'that part' of her was most decidedly her pelvis.

"Who are you and what have you done with the real Angel?" she half joked.

"I could ask you the same question." He pushed his bulk away from the doorframe and began walking toward her, taking slow, measured steps. Stalking was the more correct term. Her body turned to face him of its own will and she couldn't help but stare as he came closer. His eyes glittered in a way she'd never seen before. He looked . . . hungry.

"What do you mean?" she asked. He was towering over her now, dominating her with his physical presence. He stopped just short of touching her, leaning down to whisper softly.

"The Willow I knew wouldn't tease me under the table with her foot. Wouldn't admit to liking it rough. She wouldn't arch her body into my kiss and make kitteny sounds in the back of her throat. And she wouldn't wear leather pants so goddamn tight that they had to have been painted on." He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing over her cheek as he spoke. Willow let her eyes fall shut, sure that her heart was going to pound its way out of her chest and land on the carpet between them.

"So who are you, Willow?"

This was so unfair, she thought hopelessly. She was so turned on she couldn't move. And even if she could, she had nowhere to go because she was trapped between Angel's body and the bed. Not exactly a rock and a hard place, but moving toward either option would result in torn clothes, feverish kissing, loud moaning. And finding her and Angel twisted together in a mass of sweaty limbs on top of him was probably not the way Spike wanted to wake up. Although it did pose an interesting picture . . .

Her energy was still really low, and any little spell she did was bound to drain her. So she couldn't just freeze him in the spot like she really wanted to, or transport herself to another location. Think, Willow, think! she commanded herself. Moving was not an option. Talking was not an option. Hell, breathing was barely an option. And what could she tell him? Who was she? Right now she was a horny little witch who wanted to hop into bed and have wild sex with two vampires. Telling him that wasn't going to get her out of this situation. She swallowed a few times, trying to work up enough saliva to get her tongue to work. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

"The Angel I know wouldn't be so forward." She started out croaky, but gained confidence with each passing second. "He wouldn't press me against his hard body so I could feel his arousal. Wouldn't let his fingers dance over my skin. Wouldn't proposition his own Childe for a threesome. He wouldn't--"

Her words stopped abruptly as his lips caught hers, his tongue invading her mouth. Her body knew exactly what to do. Her fingers undid the remaining buttons on his shirt so she could feel the cool skin under her hands. He growled as she raked her fingers down his torso, and he crushed her against his body, trapping her arms between them. Willow was helpless as he plundered her mouth, his free hand tangling in her hair to hold them together. Oh Goddess. She was completely undone with Angel. Overwhelmed by the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him, it was all she could do not to fall to the floor in a boneless heap. Only Spike had ever made her feel this way . . .

Spike, she thought. The vampire that's not more than two feet away, and will be waking up any time now. Panicked, she began to fight against the arms that held her. If he woke up now, and saw them, Goddess, what if he left her? She'd never survive. No matter how much raging lust she had for Angel, she'd never be able to live without Spike.

"Spike!" she tried to say against his lips. He pulled back suddenly, but wouldn't let go.

His eyes were clouded with lust, lips red and swollen from their kissing. He'd never looked better to her in her entire life. He glanced at the sleeping vampire behind her, and if it was possible, his eyes darkened even more. He licked his lips. "What's wrong?"

"Spike," she whispered. "I can't . . ."

Slowly, he let her go. Then he took a few steps back. His face was unreadable. They really did need to talk. She was about to ask him to wait, let her explain what she was feeling, but he beat her to the punch.

"I'll be back before sunrise." He turned on his heel and marched out of the room before she could stop him.

Shakily, she sat back on the bed. Now Angel had left. Was she really leavable or something? How was she going to fix this mess?
 
 

~Part: 16~

Angel didn't look back as he left the hotel. Not when the desk clerk tried to tell him he had some messages, not when he realized he didn't have his wallet with him, and not when he bumped into a woman on the sidewalk, scattering her newly purchased groceries.

Willow wanted him.

But she wanted Spike more.

Five minutes later he had dusted a minion lurking in the alley behind a popular club. Ten minutes after that he was brushing more dust off his shirt. When the third vampire attacked he drained it dry and watched it disintegrate in his hands. These unskilled vamps were no match for his focused anger. He needed more of a challenge. He headed off toward the demon district.

Willow didn't know how long she sat on the end of the bed staring at the empty doorway. It was no longer a question of who she wanted more. The question was, how was she going to keep them both? Would she even be able to? Or would she have to choose? How did you choose between the man you loved since you were sixteen, and the man who'd come to mean everything to you?

There was rustling behind her. And then a hoarse, but still caustic English voice. "I think His Broodiness is rubbing off on you, luv."

She chose to ignore his comment, and twisted to eye him critically. He looked gaunt, dark smudges beneath his eyes. His lip was split and swollen, face marred with cuts and bruises. "You look like shit."

He tried to grin. "Flattery will get you nowhere." He hissed as he tried to sit up.

Willow scrambled to the top of the bed and propped him up. "You're going to have to be careful. I think your collarbone is broken. And your shoulder was dislocated."

"'Sides," he continued as if she hadn't said anything. "It's your fault I look like shit."

She got off the bed, letting him fall. His banged the back of his head on the headboard and moaned pitifully. He tried the puppy dog eyes on her, but with his battered face, the look was more deranged than meek. Willow glowered down at him, crossing her arms over her chest. If he thought this was her fault, she wasn't going to give him an ounce of sympathy.

"Willow, luv--"

"Don't 'Willow luv' me! How is it my fault that you almost got yourself killed?"

"Well, I seem to remember some red-headed witch knocking me unconscious."

"And if I hadn't knocked you unconscious you'd be taking up a small space on the mantle right now."

"Bollocks. I had him right where I wanted him."

"Don't lie to me Spike. You won't like the consequences." Immediately, she regretted the harsh words, but she was just so angry. Angry that he'd run out on her. Angry that he'd nearly gotten himself killed. That he'd almost killed Angel. Angry that Angel had stomped out. That she was confused and didn't know what to do.

Spike was looking at her with a curious mix of shock and acquiescence. Emotions not normally found on his face. She could tell he was in pain and trying not to show it. She still couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for him, but it wasn't in her nature to stand by and watch people suffer needlessly.

"Come on," she said, helping him to sit up again. "Let's get you into the bathtub."

"Going to take advantage of me in my vulnerable state?" She rolled her eyes. Even though his heart wasn't really in the sarcasm, he still couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Save it Spike. I'm not in the mood."

"That's not what I smell," he quipped. With some dismay she realized she was still aroused from her encounter with Angel. Out of frustration, she jostled Spike as they entered the master bathroom, then set him down none too gently in a chair.

"Watch it luv. Damaged goods here."

"You'll be a lot more damaged than you care to be if you don't be quiet." Ah. Stupid vampires. Why did they have to be so goddamn obtuse all of the time? Once again she found herself frowning down at the blond vampire. He remained silent, staring down at his lap. She pursed her lips, wanting to jump into his arms and press their mouths together but resisting the urge. He didn't deserve it.

Minutes later the sunken tub was nearly full of steaming water. Willow stripped out of her dirty clothes and knelt between Spike's legs. She was expecting some sort of smart assed comment, but none came. Realizing it would be next to impossible to remove his t-shirt without hurting him, she latched onto a tear in the collar and ripped it in half down the front. With minimal cooperation she managed to untangle it from his body. His socks went over her shoulder and landed somewhere near the garbage can. He still hadn't said anything.

Willow reached for the button on his jeans, glancing up to see the statement on his face. She saw lust flaring in his eyes before he looked away, avoiding her gaze. Through the bond she could sense his turmoil. His goddess was kneeling, naked, at his feet. Every muscle and bone and joint in his body ached. He wasn't entirely sure why she was so angry. He didn't know where the hell they were, but he could smell his Sire. The Sire he'd very nearly killed. And Willow looked like she wanted to gouge his eyes out with hot pokers.

Willow lowered the zipper and tugged his pants past his hips, down his long legs. Maybe she was being a little hard on him. Or maybe this just wasn't the time. Now was the time for taking care of Spike. She could kick his butt later.

Silently, she led him down into the large tub. The water was much too hot for her, but to him it would only be lukewarm. When he was comfortably seated she grabbed a washcloth and began to run it over his skin, mindful of the already fading bruises that dotted his upper body. Angel had certainly gotten his licks in.

She tried to push Angel from her mind as she poured shampoo into her palm and began to massage Spike's scalp. She couldn't avoid the bumps beneath his hair, and felt him stiffen in pain once in awhile. Even then, she felt his erection brush against her hip, and became aware of the fact that her breasts were pressed against his arm. A little pain and a little pleasure equals one vampire aphrodisiac. Her nipples hardened immediately, even though she tried to suppress her own reaction. Just one big walking hormone, that's what you are, she thought to herself.

"Willow?" His voice was soft, serious. She backed away slightly and waited for him to continue. He was looking at her with something akin to wonder.

"You're not a vampire."

"So everyone keeps saying," she said, unable to stop the sarcasm from creeping into her voice. His hand snaked up her arm to the side of her face. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over her heat reddened cheek.

"But, I thought . . . you--"

She smiled softly. "I know." Willow finally gave in and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was still hesitant to do anything that might anger her, but his own arms finally circled her waist. A feeling of peace stole over her until she felt Spike's lips on her throat. She knew the only way for him to be one hundred percent sure of her humanity was to taste her blood. It was just too soon. She was too weak. And too angry. Willow pulled away, too preoccupied to notice the hurt look in his eyes.
 

~Part: 17~

Penelope shut Mac's bedroom door behind her and went to sit with Sean at the kitchen table. He pushed a mug of hot chocolate toward her.

"So. Pretty wild night, huh?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Mac asleep?"

"Once your spell wore off he was out like a light."

He frowned into his own mug. "Think he'll be all right?"

"With his accelerated healing? He'll be fine."

Penelope stared off into space. Mac would be okay, although the blow would have injured or killed a human. And Spike wouldn't have cared. He hadn't thought twice about throwing the big man over his head into the alley. Her hand curled tightly around her mug. That he was out there, free, roaming around, killing. . . It drove her mad. Yes, he was one of the 'good guys' now, but that didn't make up for all of the awful things he'd done in the past. And if that chip were ever removed, what was to stop him from killing humans? His love for Willow? That was a laugh. Creatures without souls were incapable of love. Obsession, maybe, but love? Never.

"Pen? You OK?"

She glanced up at the worried eyes of her coworker and smiled weakly. "Sorry. I'm just preoccupied."

"No doubt," he said, leaning back to stretch. "Our first big job as a team and we were completely useless. I bet Angel's brimming with confidence."

"I wouldn't say completely useless--"

"Come on, Pen. Spike tossed Mac around like a rag doll, my magic had no effect on him, and I'm pretty sure he could have taken me out in a second if it wasn't for Angel. As it was, Angel had enough trouble with Spike. And Angel is supposed to be way stronger than his own Childe. How are we supposed to fight that? What have we gotten ourselves into?"

"You want to quit before we've even begun?" she snapped. As Sean's ashamed silence filled the room, she took a deep breath and calmed herself. "Look. Spike is different. He has magical protection from one of the most powerful witches there is. No doubt she lets him drink from her, so he's getting doses of powerful blood. And yes, Angel is strong, but he lives on animal blood. Human blood is much more powerful."

"So in a word, Spike's pretty powerful?" He grinned at her. "I think what you're trying to tell me is that what we faced last night is not something that we're going to face on a regular basis."

"Not unless Spike keeps trying to kill Angel."

"Yeah, but Angel seems pretty relaxed about the whole thing. After all, he brought Spike to his hotel room. And I think Willow would stop anyone from getting hurt."

If anyone means Spike. "Are you forgetting that she threatened to kill you?" He fell silent again. Penelope stood and straightened her dress, hoping she had enough money in her walled for a cab. She followed Sean's line of sight to her bare feet.

"Do you want to crash here? You can have my bed, I'll take the couch."

She shook her head. "I'm going to go check on Seth before I head home. See you tomorrow."

Her feet guided her out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out onto the sidewalk to hail a cab. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Spike. How much about him, and about the bond would Willow reveal? The whole purpose of coming to work for Angel was to gather information about Spike, maybe have the chance to confront him. Having to see him on a regular basis and even having to work with him were not what she had in mind. Keep your enemies closer, she told herself. So close that they won't know what hit them.
 

~Part: 18~

The click-clacking of the keyboard could be heard in the hall. It echoed throughout the corridor, bouncing off the worn floor, the long row of doors, and fading away to silence. She hated this place at night. It looked sterile and uninhabitable, the dim lights still managing to glare off the white surfaces. It was like in one of those horror movies where the supporting actress was lost and looking for her friends, foolishly calling out "Is anyone there?" and drawing the attention of the vicious axe murderer. And then he begins to chase her, and all the doors are locked except one, so she locks it behind her, but when she turns around he's right there, and chops her into little bits while she screams and screams . . .

The gooseflesh raised on Penelope's arms as she realized that the clacking had stopped, and all she could hear was her own shallow breathing. Way to psych yourself out, Pen. And for my next number, I'll run screaming from the building.

She nearly did just that as the deadbolt at her elbow disengaged, ringing out like a gunshot in the silence. Or at the least, a really big bb gun. Heart pounding, she whipped her head to the side to see Seth staring out at her from the crack in the doorway. The fear on her face must have been obvious, because he opened the door further while backing away and whispered, "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

After a beat, she shook herself and followed him inside. She didn't bother to argue with him, or try to come up with an excuse. She didn't have to play the Watcher or the tough girl around Seth. She could be herself: flaw, foibles, fears of quiet buildings, and all. He wouldn't tell anyone. Sometimes she wondered if he was actually aware of everything that went on around him. Then again, she hadn't told him she was coming, and her bare feet hadn't made a sound in the hallway. Yet, he'd known she was there. Maybe he was a little too aware.

Seth immediately went to his computer and resumed typing. Penelope settled herself on the end of his tiny bed and watched his fingers flying over the keys. Sometimes when she showed up, he would be researching demons, or mysterious disappearances, or the latest government conspiracy theory. Other times he would just sit and stare at the screen, unblinking. This time he was writing something, filling up the screen faster than her eyes could follow.

She remembered how hard they'd fought to get Seth his computer. Like giving a lockpick to a thief, the judge said, or a gun to a robber. As if Seth had ever intentionally hurt anyone in his life. And then they had to convince the staff of the halfway house that he wasn't going to electrocute himself, or hang himself with the mouse cord, or any of the other ludicrous ideas they had come up with. And the people they looked after were supposed to be the sick ones?

She was perfectly content to sit and lose herself in thought. Seth would work until he could no longer keep his eyes open, and then she would tuck him into bed, wrapping her arms around him to keep him safe from the demons. Outside the window and inside his head. So many issues had come to light with the sudden appearance of Willow and Spike. Things in the past, things that were yet to come. For a brief second she wished she'd never come to work for Angel, had never came to the States, had never joined the Watcher's Council. What would life be like then? She wouldn't have to run through the streets in her bare feet, wouldn't have to face death fighting monsters and demons. Wouldn't even have to know they existed. Then the oath came back to her, generations of suppressed anger flooding her tiny body, determination to bring honor to her family overriding everything else.

"Angry."

It was so quiet that she wasn't sure she heard it. Still, she was alarmed by Seth's sudden telepathic abilities. "What?"

"He's angry." He didn't turn from the computer.

Good. He wasn't talking about her.

"Well, he was angry. N-now he's not. But everyone else is. Angry, I-I-I mean. Like his anger dissipated into the air, and-and . . . infected everyone." He stopped typing. "Well, not really infected. Because anger isn't infectious, not like the flu. You can get really sick from the flu. At least, that's what the nurses tell me, but I won't let them stick me with that needle. Don't want them to hurt me." He swiveled the chair to look at her. "Don't let them put anything in me. They'll make me crazy."

Penelope smiled warmly, amused by the twists his thoughts took. "No one's going to hurt you Seth."

One day your probation will be up, and I'll get you out of this loony bin, into a real apartment, with all the computers you would ever want, and no one's going to make you do anything ever again. Then his initial words hit her.

"What do you mean, everyone's angry?"

He just shrugged and turned back to the computer, mumbling to himself. When he didn't answer her, she stood and went to stand behind him, wincing at the coldness of the floor. The screen was full of 0's and 1's in no apparent order. None that she could see, anyway. It looked like . . .

"Seth? What are you writing?"

He flinched as she touched his shoulder, causing her to pull away. What on earth was Seth writing binary code for?
 
 

~Part: 19~

Willow stared out the window, hugging herself tightly. She wasn't physically cold, yet a chill hung in the air. Her breath created a fog on the window, temporarily obscuring her view of the city below. Even after trudging through its dark and dirty streets night after night, the sheer volume of New York still had the power to amaze her. She was blown away by the amount of activity, no matter what time day or night. And the weather, well, lets just say that sweaters and jackets were no longer 'only' a fashion statement.

She surveyed the thousands of twinkling lights and wondered where Angel was among them. With every passing second that the sky lightened, her apprehension grew. He'd been gone for hours. Most of which she had spent staring out this window, wishing he would return so she could explain why she'd pushed him away. Even when she wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms and wrap her legs around him, she could never betray Spike like that. Her last betrayal had ruined two relationships and nearly gotten Cordelia killed. No, she couldn't do that to Spike.

The only way she could consider being with Angel was if Spike approved somehow. Despite piquing his interest with the idea of a threesome, Willow doubted that Spike would actually endorse any sort of relationship involving his Sire. The history between the vampires was too rocky, too full of hurt and betrayal. There was that word again. Betrayal.

She sighed and leaned her forehead against the glass. Spike had never forgiven Angel for abandoning his undead family after receiving his soul. Had never forgiven him for his actions during the brief period when he lost it. Had never forgiven him for destroying the Gem of Amara when he was soul having again. Seems like there was no pleasing Spike, she thought with a tired smile.

A small sound from behind drew her attention. Spike was leaning in the doorway, trying to look casual even though she could feel his emotions churning beneath the surface. It was pointless to try to hide from each other. The bond was just too strong. And that strength went both ways. He could sense her thoughts just as easily as she could sense his.

"I'm sure he's all right. He might be a Poof, but he's not stupid. Can't say the same for myself, though."

Relief coursed through her body. He was speaking to her. He'd been hurt when she pulled away, denying him the pleasure of tasting her. He hadn't said a word as she drained the tub, toweled him off, and wrapped him in a fluffy hotel robe. She'd never seen him so compliant. It was so unlike Spike that it was frightening. Almost enough to make her forget why she was mad at him in the first place. Almost, but not quite. His obvious remorse was enough, however, to make her want to forgive his sorry ass.

Before she could say a word, he turned and disappeared back into the bedroom. She followed a minute later and found him sitting on the bed, hunched and tense. His posture practically screamed stay away, so she took up his place in the doorway.

"Spike," she whispered. He didn't move. For a second she thought maybe he hadn't heard her, so she opened her mouth to call him again. A sudden torrent of thoughts and feelings rushed at her, so strong and fast that she had to dig her fingers into the doorframe to keep from falling back. She didn't catch all of his frantic thoughts, but the gist was clear enough. He was sorry. So incredibly sorry that he'd never leave her again, even if it meant standing by her side as the sun came up. So sorry that even if she beat him to a pulp and blasted him to bits he'd just come back and take it some more. All to be with her. He loved her beyond belief or reason and didn't want to spend eternity on earth unless she was with him. If anything ever happened to her he'd stake himself in an instant.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She knew he loved her. But she didn't really realize just how much. And the most amazing thing was that he loved her as much as she loved him. There would never be a world with only one of them. If one perished, the other would follow unwaveringly.

Before she even knew she was moving, she was at his side, touching him, lowering her mouth for a kiss too long in coming. He resisted her at first, insisting they had to talk. They had issues. They needed to straighten things out. She had no idea what he was talking about. She knew how he felt. Now it was her turn to show him how she felt.

Gradually he fell back under her onslaught, groaning in surrender. She reached between them and wrestled his robe open, eyes devouring exposed flesh. The worst of his cuts and bruises were still evident, so with nails kept long for just such a purpose, she slashed a line across her jugular. The immediate sting faded as cool lips found her throat and she was thrown into a whirlpool of sensation.

She clung to him, the silk sheets bunching beneath their bodies as they moved. There was something wicked about being with Spike in Angel's bed. Naughty. Knowing that Angel would be able to smell them when he laid his head to rest during the day. Worries about Angel faded as she lost herself in Spike. His mouth, his tongue, sent fire racing through her veins, left heat pooling between her thighs. She felt herself being lifted, rolled onto her back. Her shirt disappeared and Spike was licking a trail from her throat to her breasts. He nipped gently at her bite marks and then vamped, letting his razor canines pierce the wounds. Her back arched off the bed. So close. So close he wouldn't even have to touch her. Her hands clawed over his back, curled tightly in his blond hair. She would have opened her eyes to look at him, to see that one thing that was nearly more erotic than having him inside her, but the lids wouldn't lift. She was coiled tightly like a spring, watching the incredible bursts of fireworks behind her eyelids.

Willow climbed impossibly higher, hoping this would never end, but knowing she couldn't take much more. Suddenly she felt Spike's cool length sliding inside her and her eyes flew open. She couldn't remember where her pants had gone, but it didn't matter because he was staring down at her, eyes burning with an intensity she hadn't seen before. They stared deeply at each other, keeping completely still. This was going to change things. It wasn't just about sex anymore, and they both knew it.

'Love you,' she mouthed, reaching up to trace her fingers over the lines of his face. In her deepest heart of hearts, she'd wanted Spike from the minute she laid eyes on him. He was sexy as hell, and bad, and dangerous--everything she wasn't. He nuzzled into her palm, and she had to wonder what quirk of nature had created demons who looked like angels.

He hissed in a breath as her inner walls began to clench around him. She couldn't help it, and in retaliation he ground his hips against her clit. At her gasp he lowered himself, letting his muscled chest rub over her pebbled nipples, and chuckled in her ear.

Oh please, she begged silently. Goddess Spike. I need you.

"I love you," he whispered, and then he was moving in her, long, slow strokes that made her eyes roll back in her head. She arched up to meet his every plunge into her willing body. Their lips met, tongues tangling fiercely, bodies thrusting, fingers clutching. He swallowed her cries of passion as she tumbled into sweet release yelling his name. He came an instant later, jerking spasmodically as he emptied himself in her. They became completely still, clinging tightly to each other. After a moment Spike raised his head and they stared at each other with sated eyes full of love.

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