DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Gino is staying with Buffy and Spike after getting healed by Willow's spell, while Buffy has come up with a plan to confirm that Mack is the safety.

*************

"I hate this plan, I hate this plan, and have I said? I hate this plan." Xander paced behind the couch, his normally relaxed face dark with anger, while the rest of the gang just watched from their various seats throughout the room.

"If you've got a better one, I'd love to hear it," Buffy offered. "But I sure as hell can't think of any other way to find out for sure if Mack's the safety or not."

"But why Anya? Why can't it be somebody else?"

"Are you volunteering?" the Slayer shot back, knowing it wasn't really an option. "Look, Anya's the only one he doesn't know. Willow's not on the roster, and after everything that's gone down between him and Spike, there's no way I can get close enough to him without him suspecting something. And Anya doesn't mind."

Xander glanced at his girlfriend, who shook her head innocently. Snorting, he stopped in front of where Spike was leaning against the wall. "Do you at least see my problem with this?" he demanded. "How would you feel if it was Buffy who had to sleep with this sleazeball?"

"I'd kill him," the vampire said calmly. "But the Slayer's right. Anya's the only girl in this room who can do this without gettin' herself in trouble."

The girl in question rose from her seat and placed her hand on her boyfriend's arm. "Just let it go, Xander. If this is what it takes to get us home, then that's it. End of story." She leaned up to kiss him, only to be met with his cheek when he abruptly turned his head. "Fine," she retorted, suddenly angry. "Be a baby. See if I care. I'm only doing this to save your butt from that whole death clause anyway."

"Trust me, I am so far from being happy in this place, my butt is the last thing you have to be worrying about," he replied harshly.

"Please!" Giles' voice was sharp, cutting through the argument, silencing it with that one word. "The debate is over. None of us are pleased with the plan, Xander, but at this juncture, it's our only option."

Muttering under his breath, the young man collapsed on the couch, arms folded across his chest, brown eyes thunderous as he glared at those around him. It had been a day of hell for him, first walking in on Buffy and Spike getting married, then hours of having to listen to Mack go on about business he didn't understand anyway, and now finding out his girlfriend was going to play this roster thing to the hilt in order to see if the club owner had Melinda's mark. What had happened to having your greatest desire fulfilled? he grumbled silently. A root canal would be better than this right now.

"So we're settled then," Buffy said. "Everybody goes about business as usual until we hear from Anya. Any questions?" She glanced around the gang, eyes finally settling on Gino. He'd been quiet ever since he'd emerged from the bedroom with Willow, but his silence was different from that earlier. Now, it was more thoughtful, less broody, as if many of his doubts had been lifted. She didn't question how that had happened; she hadn't seen her best friend glow this radiantly since long before Oz had left. Definitely going to have that girl talk tonight, she thought. Most definitely. "What about you, Gino?" she asked. "Anything you want cleared up?"

The dark bouncer shook his head, a wry smile briefly lighting up his face. "Don't think even I can mess up driving Willow and Anya to the club," he joked. The small ripple of laughter that went through the room eased the tension somewhat, and Gino visibly relaxed into his seat.

A bemused Giles glanced around the lounge's occupants. "Do you know what I've just realized?" he said. "I believe this is the first time we've ever had more men involved in Slayer business than women." A wide-eyed Buffy tilted her head to look at her Watcher, her arms folded over her breasts. Under her close scrutiny, his blue eyes ducked. "It was just an observation," he commented.

*************

The car rounded the corner and Spike saw the lights of the club beckoning down the street, merging with the twinkling stars above in a nightly rainbow that almost seemed too much like home. Not Sunnydale home, but home as that elusive definition of comfort. For a fleeting second, the blond vamp realized that he was actually going to miss this place, although no way in hell could he tell Buffy that. She certainly wouldn't understand.

She seemed lost in thought, and he briefly wondered what was going through that head of hers, whether she was considering Red and Gino, or the plan on getting out of here, or something else entirely. He was hoping for something else entirely, because that left the door open for the Slayer to be thinking of him, but with so much going on right now, he wasn't holding his breath. Even if he had breath to hold.

As the car slowed before the door of the club, Spike slid forth a foot and nudged her nylon-clad toes with his shoe, gently bringing her back to earth. "Showtime," he said, a half-smile twisting his lips, and watched as she pulled the ring from her purse, sliding it over her knuckle and twisting it into place. He still wore his, hadn't taken it off since that morning, and knew she didn't really understand why. That's OK, luv, he thought. Someday, you'll get it.

He was out of the door like a shot, around the rear of the car, holding open her door before Buffy could even blink, his hand outstretched to take hers as she slid from her seat. The genteel manners still managed to throw her every single time, no matter how many doors he held for her. When we get back to Sunnydale, she thought, I don't know what I'll do if he throws his duster over a puddle like that dead English guy. And almost laughed out loud as she realized, Spike is a dead English guy.

"No fighting," Buffy warned. "Try and avoid Mack if you can."

"'Cause blokes like him don't need to use doors," he commented dryly.

"He might come in the back."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Luv, hate to break it to you, but he's not the type to come back with his tail between his legs. Especially not when he owns the place."

She bit her lip. "Maybe he'll change his mind and won't come in at all. Or maybe Xander misunderstood him when he said he would show up tonight."

"And maybe Rupes will throw us an engagement party when we get back to Sunnyhell. Look, Buffy, he's goin' to show. As long as you're here, he's goin' to be here."

He knew from the look in her eyes that she understood that was the truth, even if she didn't like it. "At least it looks like this is our last night," she said, resigned. "No more creepy little guys macking on the Slayer once we get back home."

As Buffy turned away to walk to the rear of the club, Spike's hand reached out and pinched playfully at her ass. "Not if I have anything to say 'bout it," he teased.

*************

Xander's hands drummed nervously on his knees as the car pulled up in front of the club, his eyes darting nervously over to where Mack sat, staring out the window, his face grim. He'd been surprised when he'd shown up at the penthouse; many of the bruises that the boss had been sporting were already gone, as was all of the swelling in his face. Only the occasional wince as he twisted his upper body gave any indication that he had been in any sort of a fight. He heals faster than even Buffy does, the young man thought.

He had yet to bring up Anya, and the prospect of walking into the club and seeing her fawn all over the painting boss was turning his stomach. Spike would already be at the door, and that would be bad enough to listen to; Mack had made it very clear to Xander that he wanted to discuss the Spike issue some point this evening. He wasn't sure what it was going to entail, but based on his conversations this afternoon, he knew it wasn't going to be good.

Mr. Lombardi was waiting for them when the chauffeur opened the doors. "Glad to see you're up and about," he said, the obsequious smile too wide on his face. "We've had some excitement 'round here since you've been out of it."

"Yes, I've heard," Mack said quietly.

"Gino---."

"---got clipped, yes, I know." He brushed past the club's manager and was halfway to the door, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his wool coat when Lombardi's voice came filtering to him.

"And then there's Buffy and Spike."

Mack stopped, and glanced back at him over his shoulder. "What about them?" he asked, his voice low and even.

Lombardi laughed. "Those crazy kids. They decided they couldn't wait any longer and went and got themselves hitched this morning. Said they got tired of waiting."

Xander kept a close eye on his boss, watching his lips thin, his nostrils flare, but otherwise, showing no outward sign of emotion regarding the announcement. "I suppose that means Buffy's on her…honeymoon," Mack said.

"Nah. Buffy's a pro, been on the clock since the first customer walked through the door. In fact, she was actually one of the first dames in tonight. Marriage must be agreeing with her."

The small joke fell on deaf ears, and the boss glanced at the front door of the club, grey eyes intent. "She didn't say," he murmured.

Lombardi cleared his throat, the panic in his face barely in control. "Since Gino's out of commission, I asked Spike if he'd come back to work," he said.

Mack's head shot around. "What?" he demanded, and Xander saw for the first time since arriving in the painting the power in the smaller man's visage, the refined mask he usually wore stripped away to reveal the cunning shell underneath. There was a reason he was so feared, and he was only now getting a glimpse of it.

"Look," the manager rushed. "Spike's the best, and with Gino gone, we need him here until I can find a replacement. And face it, he didn't do anything you haven't done for Buffy in the past. Remember that mug who hit her while they were dancing? The coppers still haven't finished finding his body parts." He took a deep breath. "She loves him, Mack, and hell, he's proved he's dizzy for her. I know he shouldn't have done what he did, but it's over, it's done with, and it's not going to happen again. I've got Spike's word on that. Plus, he knows this is only temporary until I get Gino back." Unless I can talk you into letting him stay on, Lombardi added silently.

The air lay thick between them as Xander watched his boss consider this latest development. He had to admit, it was a convincing argument. The question was, was it convincing enough?

Turning on his heel, Mack began walking back up to the club, all evidence that he'd heard anything out of the ordinary gone from his slight form. "Come, Xander," he said. "I'm in the mood for a little distraction. Perhaps of the female variety."

*************

The club was quiet, and Spike realized he was already beginning to recognize the regulars, knowing which ones might cause trouble and which ones were completely harmless. Most of tonight's patrons were of the latter variety, which made his job relatively simple…and incredibly boring. He'd been keeping himself awake by watching Buffy on the dance floor, but every time she started in with the flirting, the rage would rise in his throat and he'd have to look away, unable to watch lest his jealousy take the better of him. Logic told him he had nothing to worry about, but that didn't stop the feelings, and it certainly didn't mean he had to stand there and watch it.

It was those times he'd watch Red instead, amused at her exuberant mood this evening, laughing away the one or two times she'd fallen over on her bottom as she teetered around in those godawful shoes. He'd even caught her chatting up one or two of the band members when she passed by them, including good ol' bugle boy himself. Only thing was, she'd just gone on her break, disappearing through the back door, and Spike was left trying to entertain himself again.

When he saw Tony lean over and whisper to the musician next to him, rising from his seat at the same time, the vampire's eyes narrowed. He still thought something was funny about the trumpet player, and whether Buffy thought it was necessary or not, Spike planned on keeping an eye on him. Just might be time for my own break, he thought, and straightened, ready to follow the other man to the back.

The door opening behind him halted his move, garnering his attention as his blond head swivelled around to see who the newest arrival was. The muscle in his cheek twitched as Mack strolled through, followed closely by Xander. Bloody hell, he grumbled. Thought Buffy said he looked a little worse for wear. If it wasn't for the faint discoloration around the man's jaw, Spike would never have known he'd had a severe beating only a few days previous. She must've been wantin' to spare my feelings, he thought. Must be losin' my touch.

There was only a moment's hesitation as Mack espied the blond bouncer and slowly approached him, closing the distance in just a few short steps. "Not that I'm forgetting what you did," the owner said, "but I know when to accept defeat graciously." He stuck out his right hand. "Congratulations on your…wedding."

Spike's head tilted as his gaze flickered from the proffered hand, to Mack's unsmiling face, and then to meet Xander's eyes. Harris' infinitesimal nod went unseen by his boss, and slowly, the vamp extended his own grip to lightly clasp the other's. "Thanks."

Both withdrew almost immediately, and Mack turned to face the crowd. "So, where's this new girl we're supposed to have?" he said, and without looking back, walked over to the bar.

*************

I am not going to miss these shoes, Willow grumbled, sliding the leather strap over her heel as she held herself steady with the door jamb. Here's hoping Anya comes through and this'll be my last night of torture. She wasn't expecting anyone there when she pulled open the dressing room door, stumbling into his chest before latching onto his jacket, yanking clumsily at his sleeve as she struggled to right herself.

Tony smiled, hands sliding under her elbows, enjoying the all too-fleeting pressure of her body against his before stepping back. "The shoes'll get you every time," he joked.

Straightening, Willow smiled. "You on break?"

"Actually, I just ducked back to find out how you were doing. You don't seem so…flustered as you were this morning."

"No, things are good."

"And Gino? I take it, the spell worked out OK?"

She nodded. "He's fi---. Going to be fine." There was an awkward pause as they each regarded the other. "And you? I left kind of quick after we did your spell. Did it turn out the way you wanted?"

"Yes, most definitely," Tony said with a happy smile. "Thank you again. It's nice to be able to work with someone who understands it all."

"Yeah, well…" She was growing uncomfortable, eyes darting around the dark hall. The fewer reminders she had about helping the musician, the happier Willow would be. "I should probably get back to work," she chirped, edging past him. "Talk to you later."

As she scurried away, her ankle turning once beneath her, the redhead exhaled loudly. Thank God Buffy didn't see me, she thought. I'd never get out of having to explain that one.

"Tell me I didn't just hear that." Spike emerged from the recesses of the wall, arms folded across his tuxedoed chest, sapphire eyes glittering in the dim light as he gazed at Willow.

She jumped. "Why do you vampires always have to sneak up on people?" she demanded, her heart racing.

"It's not sneakin' if you're not movin'," he replied. "You walked up to me. From talkin' to bugle boy. About magic and spells."

The two stared at each other, the redhead jumpy, the blond cool, both knowing the truth would be out before either stepped away. Finally, Willow sighed. "I couldn't do it by myself, Spike. I needed his help."

"Well, at least that explains why Gino's bullet went bye-bye. What was that I heard about…his spell?"

"It was just a protection spell, no big. And it was the only way I could get him to help me. Don't tell Buffy, please, Spike? She won't understand."

"I don't understand, Red. And there's no way you can ask me to keep a secret from Buffy. Shame on you."

"But it doesn't matter anyway," she rushed, pulling him aside for just a bit more privacy. "We've found the safety, you and Buffy will take care of him, and we'll be home before morning. No harm, no foul, right?"

"You can't keep this kind of information from the Slayer---."

"Oh, really? What about not telling her about how you went and saw Tony? During the day? At his apartment? And telling him all about Buffy being the Slayer? That sounds like a huge, fat secret to me, Spike."

"It was unnecessary information---."

"As is this." She jumped on his words. "The spell was for him, just to protect him from dying. It doesn't affect us at all. Just like how you got your information doesn't affect us, either. So…you don't tell her about this, and I won't tell her about that, OK?"

He didn't like it, and he knew Buffy wouldn't like it. Everything about it smelled wrong to him, but there she stood, green eyes wide, just begging to be trusted with this, and Spike knew he wasn't going to be able say no to her. It was the first time Willow had played her innocent-face-card with the vampire, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't going to be the last. Fuck.

"Fine," he growled. "But I see one rat leave the ship, and I'm talkin' faster than you can say slayer, got it?" The vehemence of her nod was all he needed before whirling on his heel and disappearing back up to the front. Stupid bloody women, he thought, as he marched back to his post. Why are they always fallin' for the bugle boy's routine?

*************

Anya's eyes widened as she walked into the penthouse, drinking in the obvious wealth surrounding her, biting her lip as her fingers danced over a porcelain statue near the front entrance. "Nice place you've got," she said as calmly as she could, and practically ran when she saw the H'roven over the fireplace.

Mack watched in amusement as he removed his coat, draping it over the back of the couch. Although she certainly wasn't Buffy, the new girl had definitely been a pleasant diversion for most of the evening, keeping him sufficiently distracted from staring at the other woman for at least part of the night. When Xander had suggested trying her out, it had seemed like a good enough idea, but, now that they were back here at the penthouse, he was having second thoughts.

"Is that going to be it for tonight?" Xander's voice came from the doorway behind him, and Mack glanced back at his right-hand man, his grey eyes level, sensing the other's discomfort.

"Not just yet. There's one more matter I'd like to discuss." He glanced pointedly at Anya.

"Oh," she said. "Gotcha. That would be my cue to quietly walk out of the room and leave you two in privacy. So, here I am, going to the bedroom, 'cause that's what I do…" Although she was smiling brightly, her words trailed away as she looked around for the appropriate exit, both men just watching her and waiting, before she finally found the hall and strolled casually down it.

"Sit down," Mack instructed.

Xander frowned as he perched himself on the edge of the couch. He'd had a lot of these kind of talks with his boss since arriving in the painting, but none of them had been prefaced like this before. This was different…but different didn't necessarily mean good.

"I know I gave you a lot of stuff to tackle this afternoon," he was continuing. "But something's come up that I want taken care of before all that."

"Whatever it is, just say the word." And thank god I probably won't have to be around much longer to actually do it, he thought gratefully.

"You know Buffy married Spike today."

Xander locked his jaw. "Yeah, kinda heard about that."

"To tell the truth, I didn't think she'd go through with it. I thought she'd come to her senses and things could go back to the way they were before." Mack was pacing around the room, lost in his own head, his ruminations relaxing the lines around his eyes. "But that's not going to happen now. It can't, really. Which means I need you to take care of it for me."

"Take…care of it?" Xander felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and leaned forward.

"My original plan was to just get rid of Spike, but as Buffy has so clearly made her choice, I see no reason why she shouldn't join him." His lips curled into an angry smile. "After all, she was the one who promised 'til death do they part. I think that's going to be my wedding gift to the two lovebirds." His grey eyes bore into Xander's. "I don't care how you do it. Shoot them, make it look like an accident, whatever. Just make sure they both end up sleeping the big sleep…"

*************

It stared back at him, hands moving at that snail speed he'd hated so much in high school, gilt numbers etched onto its face as if to mock him with the potential of progress. Three o'clock…wait…three-oh-one. Xander sighed. He still hadn't heard from Anya, or anyone else for that matter, and it was starting to eat at him, his spirits sinking lower and lower as time began pressing the thoughts into his brain.

Mack had better be the one, he despaired. 'Cause getting around this order to kill Spike and Buffy will be a doozy if we've got to stick around to find the real safety. Not that killing the blond vampire would've been hard; more than once, Xander had contemplated that possibility already, envisioning lots of balloons and fanfare, maybe a ticker tape parade. But Buffy was another matter entirely, and the fact that she would never let anyone but her hurt Spike was inescapable.

He glanced over at the clock again. Three-oh-three. Shit.

Somewhere, deep down---very deep down---Xander knew that the plan with Anya had been the only way to go, but he had surprised himself with how vehemently he'd opposed it, even going so far as seeking Spike's support in defending his point of view. They certainly hadn't been going out for very long, and though she had been hinting lately at finding out where exactly they were going, so far he had been able to avoid talking about it. Now, he knew that once things were kosher again back in Sunnydale, he and Anya were going to have a sit-down, serious conversation on what exactly their relationship really was. 'Cause all this Mack business was showing Xander just how important she was becoming to him.

One more peek at the clock. Three-oh-six.

Where the hell was everybody?

*************

The flick of his cigarette butt through the open window left a scarlet trail through the night air as it arced into the gutter, and Spike leaned back into his seat, elbow propped up on the window as he watched the door of the club just half a block down the street. Gino had parked far enough away so that if anyone came out, he wouldn't be recognized, but the distance was driving the blond vampire crazy. What the hell was Buffy doin' in there? Actually, he knew the answer to that, and it still didn't make him happy. She was waitin' on her Watcher.

By the time Gino had left to come pick them up, Harris had yet to call, which meant that either demon-girl still hadn't found the mark or that Mack wasn't the safety after all. Either way, Spike was starting to feel the edge begin to wear on him, and had gone through half a pack of cigarettes just waiting for the others to emerge from the club. The cellophane crinkled between his fingers as he dug out the last white stick, sticking it between his lips as he cupped his hand around the end to light it.

"If you want, I know a place that's open all night where you could pick up some more," Gino offered from his seat behind the steering wheel.

Spike shook his head as he slowly exhaled. "I'll just nick a pack from Red when she comes out," he said.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a million times. Her name's Willow."

The vampire laughed out loud. "Right, right. I'll remember that."

There was a moment of silence between the two men, and then Gino audibly sighed. "Willow thinks I'm going to forget everything about her and you guys after you manage to get home."

"Makes sense," Spike agreed. "She's a smart one. If that's what she says, I'd be inclined to believe her."

"I know she said it's dangerous for you guys to be here, but if I said I didn't want you to go, would you think I was off my rocker?" He stared forward, unable to look over at his friend, his thick fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

"All of us? Or just Re---Willow?"

Gino's flush was evident, even in the dim light from the streetlamps. "Well, mostly Willow," he conceded. "But you, too, Spike. You've been the best friend I've had since I was a kid. I'm going to miss not having you around. And Buffy's great, too. Although I can't really see her doing the stuff Willow says she does. She's not very big, is she?"

The vampire smiled. "Don't be judgin' her based on her size," he said. "She's kicked my ass around the block more than once." Although he was keeping his tone light, Spike was thrown by his companion's statement regarding friendship. When was the last time anyone had ever said anything like that to him? The only one in recent memory who'd even tolerated his presence was Buffy, because that stupid bint Harmony sure as hell didn't count. And Buffy was an entirely different matter.

"It's probably selfish not wanting you to go," Gino was saying. "You guys got family back home, I'm sure. And Willow said she was going to college. I'd hate to think she couldn't do that anymore just because she stayed."

"It's not that. Rules are different here. At least back on the Hellmouth, we know how the game is played."

"Is it nice…where you guys come from?"

Spike shrugged. "It's got its perks," he said. "Doesn't make no never mind to me where I am, as long as Buffy's there." His eyes narrowed, as he looked over at the other man. "Where's all this goin'?" he asked.

"I was just thinking…if it's not safe for Willow to stay here, maybe it might be an idea if I went with you guys when you left." He met the blond's gaze. "You think that's possible?"

"Knowing this place? I'd say anything goes." He took a long drag of his cigarette. "Are you that serious about her? You'd be willin' to give up what you got here just to be with her?"

"Didn't you?"

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Well, Willow said how you and Buffy used to be enemies and all, and now you two are together. Didn't you give up stuff so that could happen?"

"Not as much as you might think." Gino didn't know the whole story about the chip, but for some reason, Spike didn't think that now was the best time to go into that.

"But you would, right?" the dark-haired bouncer persisted.

"Goes without sayin'."

"I think Willow and I are good together." His voice was low, but firm. "I think she knows that, too. I just don't want to lose it."

"So, you do what you gotta do. It might not be pretty, and it might hurt like hell, but if you love her, you do what you can to make it happen. Unless, of course, it hurts Willow, in which case I'll probably have to stand in line behind Buffy to kick your ass." He said this last with a grin, letting the other man know he was only half-serious, but allowing the threat underneath to poke its head through.

Gino smiled. "You know, I gotta admit, I'd really love to see Buffy try. I just don't get how a dame as little as her could do it."

"Just say the word, pal. 'Cause I'll tell you right now, it'd be one of your shortest fights in history."

*************

As the flashes went off up on the bandstand, Buffy tilted her head, watching the display with amusement. "You know," she said, her feet dangling from the bar stool, "I think Giles is enjoying this just a little too much."

Willow nodded. "Methinks the movie star routine is starting to go to his head," she replied. "Betcha he does that thing with his glasses again."

The girls watched as the photographer stepped away from the Watcher, framing his shot in order to accommodate him full-frame. When the Englishman placed the earpiece of his spectacles between his teeth, ducking his head in order to gaze at the camera through his lashes, the giggles bubbled forth, only to be quietened when the two friends quickly stuck the straws from their drinks into their mouths.

"Spike's going to kill us for taking so long," Buffy commented between sips.

"It's not our fault. It's Giles'. He can kill Giles."

The blonde looked at her friend in mock-horror. "Spike, kill, and Giles in the same sentence? I think it's time to cut you off." She went to take away the other's drink, and giggled again when Willow held it out of her reach.

"I just wish he'd hurry it up. I'm missing quality cuddle time with Gino."

Here it was, the opening Buffy'd been hoping for all night. Time for girl talk, she thought. Let's hope I don't blow it. "He seems like he's coping OK with everything," she said nonchalantly. "I haven't seen any major wiggins yet, at least."

"He was a little freaked," the redhead admitted. "But we talked after everyone left this afternoon. I think he's doing better now."

"Just…talked?"

Willow blushed. "That's none of your business, missy. Besides, your walls aren't exactly soundproof, you know. Don't tell me you were only talking with Spike when you got back."

"We did talk. Some."

"So did we. Some."

"And the other some…was it…worth it?"

"Well, let's put it this way," Willow said, her lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Everything about Gino is very much in proportion., so yes. Very much worth it."

It only took a fraction of a second for Buffy to realize what her friend was saying. Her hazel eyes widened. "God, Will, if I didn't know you better, I'd say it was just about the sex."

The other girl's grin faded. "You don't know how much I wish it was." She sighed. "Why isn't it possible to go out and do a special order on who you fall in love with? Be able to say, I'd like a boyfriend value meal, extra-tall, extra-sweet, oh and by the way, hold the alternate dimension travel issue, please."

"You're asking me? The girl who has managed to fall in love with her second vampire?"

"At least you get to take your guy home with you." Willow swivelled on her stool and pulled her straw from her empty glass, using the tip to doodle imaginary pictures on the bar countertop. "Part of why I let this afternoon happen was because I figured that was it. We're going home very soon here, and I'm never going to see Gino again, so why not just have this one time? Except now that I've had it, I wonder if I haven't just made things worse for me."

Buffy turned to face the same direction as her friend. "If it makes you feel any better, Spike thinks you did the right thing."

Willow snorted. "Spike also thought it was the right thing to kidnap you for a weekend," she commented.

Buffy frowned. "What? What're you talking about?"

"Remember when you walked in on me and Spike talking in the living room? The day after the strip poker thing?" She waited for the blonde to nod. "It started out just talking about me and Gino, and you and him. Which, let me tell you, was oddly reminiscent of when he kidnapped me last year to do that love spell for him, except this time he was all happy Spike and not sad and weepy Spike. Anyway, I said something about how you two being alone and separated from the Hellmouth and Slayer stuff seemed to open up this door for this to happen, you know, the falling in love thing, but now that I was around, maybe things would be different again. Well, that just set him off. Five minutes of bloody this and bleeding that, and saying how none of us would ever let you have what you really wanted, and did you ever realize how long Spike can talk without stopping? It must be the non-breathing thing because he just kept going on and on. It was making me dizzy so I just said, well, maybe you should make sure you two get enough alone time so that things don't change. Which for some reason he thought was the jim-dandiest idea and next thing I know, he's convincing me to cover for you at the club so that he can whisk you away for the weekend."

So that's what that had been all about, Buffy thought. Not anything devious or dire, just Spike wanting to have quality alone time with me and using Willow as a means to do it. For some reason, she found herself regretting that they weren't going to get the opportunity to follow through on it; certainly, those first few days when it had been just the two of them, there had been a certain magic about it, with Spike letting down his guard and just being himself minus the combative attitude, and the dancing, and the laughter…

She felt her cheeks warm at the memory, followed quickly by the hastening of her heartbeat. Maybe they would have just a few more hours before having to go take care of Mack. Maybe she and Spike could have one more dance…

"I know you're thinking about him," Willow accused good-naturedly.

Buffy blushed. "I'm sorry. This is supposed to be about you and Gino."

"No, it's really OK. You two are just as new as we are. Plus, you've got your own problems to deal with. You do realize that Giles and Xander want to kill Spike, don't you?"

"I'd have to be blind to miss it."

"And you're going to have to deal with Riley when we get back---."

The Slayer's eyes widened, her jaw dropping. "Oh. My. God," she said. "Do you know that until you just now mentioned him, I haven't given Riley one thought since I got here?"

"You've been a little distracted."

No, I've been a lot distracted, Buffy thought. Out loud, she replied, "He's going to think I'm some total nutcase. First I tell him I'm engaged to a guy named Spike. Then I turn around and tell him it was just a joke. Now, I'm going to have to do another one-eighty and say, you know that joke thing? It wasn't really, 'cause this time I'm actually married to the guy." She frowned. "Except I won't be when I get back. Just here. God, I'm going to be glad to get home. No more headaches trying to keep it all straight."

Willow was pensive, her green eyes on the countertop. "Do you think the painting in Mack's penthouse is the way home?" she asked.

"Could be. Seems like too much of a coincidence for it not to be." Buffy glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye. "Why are you asking?"

"I know it's reaching for straws, but I was just wondering what would happen if Gino tried coming back with us, you know, by touching it. If it would even work for him, and if it did, would he be in the same position in Sunnydale that we are here. Life-threatening, and all." Her eyes were glistening when she looked up at Buffy. "I know you think I'm whacked about this, letting myself get into this mess so soon after Oz. I've been thinking the same thing. But I'm here now, and I just want to get out of it with as few scars to my psyche as I can manage."

"Have you talked to Gino about it?"

"A little, but not in so many words. I don't want anyone to get their hopes up, me most of all."

Reaching up, the blonde wrapped her arms around her best friend, giving her a long and overdue hug. "Whatever happens, I'll be right here for you, 'kay?"

"Yeah." Willow smiled as the two broke apart. "I think this definitely qualifies as a Dionne Warwick moment."

*************

She lay trapped under the weight of his arm, staring up at the ceiling as his breathing settled into a light snore. It's about friggin' time, Anya thought irritably. The man has more energy than Willow on caffeine.

And it wasn't as if the energy had been put to good use. For the past three hours, she had sat here on the bed, listening to him talk on and on and on about Buffy, and Buffy's hair, and Buffy's smell, and Buffy's dancing, and everything else that was made up of Buffy, until she wanted to pull her hair out and scream, Get over it already! It was worse than it had been listening to Willow go on about Oz. And then, to top it all off, he'd just climbed into bed, curled up against her and fallen asleep. No sex. No touching. Nothing. She was just a pillow with ears to him.

She hadn't even had the chance to look for the mark yet, either. After speaking with Xander, Mack had slipped into the adjoining room to change into silk pyjamas, which she thought looked absolutely ridiculous on his small frame, and until he'd crawled onto the bed, had been so far from her that she couldn't even discreetly play with his clothing in an attempt to see what was underneath. Now, of course, was another matter. As long as she was careful, she should be able to look at him close enough to find out the truth.

She started with his arms, peeking up the voluminous sleeves to see the finely muscled limbs staring back at her with nary a mark, not even a freckle. He's almost as pale as Spike, Anya thought. Maybe he's actually a vampire and not human after all. Except she knew that wasn't true, because vampires didn't snore, did they? Didn't that require breathing? And she was getting off the matter at hand. Get it together, girl, she admonished silently. Find the mark.

It wasn't on his chest or feet, either, and Anya sat back on her heels, wondering how she was going to get a look at his back and legs without waking him up. Or, I could wake him up, strip him for sex, and use that as an excuse to see him naked, she mused. Kill two birds with one stone there.

As she watched, Mack groaned in his sleep, rolling away from her and onto his side, as if answering her unheard prayer for ease. OK, she thought. Something's finally going my way.

It only took a moment after that. Lifting the back of his pyjama shirt, she was about to lower her head to look up the fabric when the familiar sight of H'roven's signature blazed before her. It lay nestled in the curve of Mack's lower back, a scarlet shape about the size of a half-dollar, resembling more than anything a long-forgotten birthmark.

Jackpot, she thought. We're going home…

They were halfway out the door when Sammy came running after them. "Mr. Giles!" he called, his breathing ragged. "Mr. Giles!"

The trio stopped, all turning to see him approach, the Watcher frowning. "Yes?" he queried.

"Telephone," Sammy rasped. "Guy says it's important."

The frivolity was sucked from the air as Buffy and Willow exchanged glances, hanging back as Giles followed the shorter man up to the bar and the spare phone. There was only one person who could be on the other end of that line, and though they had been expecting the call all night, it still managed to hit both of them hard.

For Buffy, it meant getting back to being the Slayer, and doing what she had to do to save the world, or in this case, to get out of it. If Mack was indeed the safety, that meant he had to be killed, which meant ethical dilemma for the Chosen One. Even though he wasn't part of her dimension, and even though he was basically not a very nice guy, Mack was still human, and the prospect of having to kill him was not something she was looking forward to dealing with. It had only been last year that Faith had killed the deputy mayor, and the repercussions of that one deed had blackened everything for the next six months. How could Buffy escape the same fate?

The call was something else entirely for Willow, a death knell for her time with Gino, a return to an empty existence without someone to share it with. All her efforts to keep it separated, using her head instead of her heart, had been for naught, because here she was, the ache inside resonating throughout her body, obliterating the lines of demarcation she'd fought so desperately to construct between the bliss of being with the dark-haired bouncer and the reality of leaving him behind. She knew only one thing. Oz leaving her had been difficult; deserting Gino was going to be impossible.

Giles' face was somber as he returned to the two girls and before they could say anything, he nodded. "Xander and Anya are waiting for us," he said quietly.

*************

He was pacing in front of the door to the penthouse when they arrived, brown hair dishevelled, his jacket long ago discarded. Gino's eyes narrowed when he saw the gun strapped under Harris' arm, his grip automatically tightening around Willow's hand. It was only when she looked up at him, green eyes dark with confusion, did the bouncer consciously relax his grasp. Not a threat, he reminded himself. She said they're old friends and would never do anything to hurt her.

Still, shutting off the feelings was like trying to swallow a handful of pills when his throat wasn't working. He didn't like Xander and he couldn't look at the other man without feeling rage at the act he knew logically the other man never committed. Willow had told him about what he and Spike had done to Marty, but that didn't change how he felt. He didn't know if anything ever could.

"Where's Anya?" asked Buffy as they approached.

"Inside in case Mack wakes up." Xander's eyes flickered over the gang, pausing momentarily on Gino before returning back to the Slayer. "She says the mark's on his back and it looks exactly like the demon painter's signature, so we know for sure he's the one."

"Right. Then let's suit up." With a deep breath, she grabbed a hold of the door knob and twisted, ready to go in and do what had to be done.

"Wait." Giles' voice acted more of a deterrent than a physical touch, and Buffy stayed her motion, looking back over her shoulder at her Watcher. "What exactly are you planning on doing?" he queried.

"Thought that was obvious," she replied. "I have to kill Mack."

"But he's human, Buffy."

"And he's our ticket out of this place." Her hand fell from the door and her head tilted as she regarded the older man. "You really think now is the time to be arguing about this?"

"Well, you refused to discuss it in the car---."

"Because I know what I have to do," she interrupted. "I don't like it any more than you do, but I don't think I really have much of an option here."

"There are always options---."

"Lemme do it."

Buffy jerked at the sound of Spike's voice, her jaw setting. "No," she said firmly. "You're not going anywhere near him."

"Why not?" The vampire strode forward to square off with the petite blonde. "Wanker's from this dimension so the soddin' chip won't go off. And, in case you've forgotten, I don't have the same bleedin' morality issues you've got. If he needs to be killed, I can do it."

"We had rules, Spike, remember? And I believe 'no killing' was right there at the top of them." Her face was flushed in anger. Why were they arguing with her on this?

"Buffy's right." Giles stepped forward, joining the fray. "If anyone should kill Mack, it should be me. I'll shoulder the responsibility."

"What?" Her voice was incredulous. This was going from bad to much, much worse. "No offense, Giles, but this is my job. Chosen One here, and why is everyone trying to keep from doing what I have to do?"

"Being the Slayer doesn't mean killing humans."

"Rupert's got a point---."

"Stay out of it, Spike!"

The door yanked open to reveal an angry Anya on the other side. "What the hell is going on out here?" she demanded.

"Slayer and her Watcher are havin' a bit of a spat," Spike commented dryly.

"Now?" Anya stared at them, wide-eyed. "I've got a guy in here, waiting to be dead. You don't think this could maybe wait a bit? Like, after we get home?"

Buffy turned back to Giles. "You don't even have a weapon---."

"I've got my gun," Xander offered, pulling it from its holster.

Gino automatically stepped in front of Willow, blocking the path between her and the revolver, while Buffy turned amazed eyes to her friend. "Not helping things, Xander," she warned.

"Look, this should be a doddle, Slayer. Rupes will find some way to cock it up and there's absolutely no reason for you to do it if you've got me to watch your back. I'm the best choice here."

Giles' voice was deadly. "You're never the best choice, Spike," he spat.

"And you are?" Buffy countered. "When was the last time you shot a gun, Giles?"

"I'm well-trained in all manners of weaponry---."

"I'm not talking training, I'm talking field experience." Her hazel eyes flashed. "This shouldn't even be a debate here."

As they fought in front of her, Anya's head kept swivelling back and forth between the gang members, marvelling at how ridiculous they were being, turning what was really an easy solution into some huge moral dilemma. Got a gun, use it, she thought angrily. What's so hard? But their voices were rising, and though she knew there was no way he could hear anything all the way back in the bedroom, Anya was starting to worry about how long it was taking them to make up their minds. Anything could happen; hadn't they learned at least that much by being here?

"Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," she muttered, and stepping forward, twisted the gun from Xander's hand, pivoting on her heel and marching back into the apartment, shutting the door behind her.

The hall was quiet for a moment while everyone just looked at the closed door. "She's not---," Gino started, only to silence himself when the gang sprang into action and launched themselves inside.

"Crap," he heard Harris mutter, right before the other man disappeared inside the penthouse.

*************

She had the pistol cocked and ready before she reached the bedroom, and slipped through the doorway, taking heed not to make any unnecessary noise as she did so. On the bed, Mack still lay in repose, his head turned away from her. Want a job done, she thought, gotta do it yourself. Although it had been a while since she'd had to kill anyone---OK, she hadn't really done it since being stripped of her vengeance gig---not having to look him in the face while she did it definitely made the job all that much easier.

Carefully, Anya raised the gun.

*************

Buffy and Spike were only seconds behind her, skittering to a halt in the doorframe so that they didn't wake the sleeping owner of the club. Not that a gunshot won't do the exact same thing, the Slayer thought wryly, and was about to rush the armed woman when…

…the bolt of electricity shot through the air, striking Anya in the chest, sending her hurtling backwards against the overstuffed chair behind her.

Buffy hurried forward, scooping the unconscious girl into her arms and picking up the gun from the floor, then turned her confused gaze back at Spike. "What the hell was that?" she hissed.

His jaw was set, muscles twitching as his brain clicked over. The bolt had come directly from Mack, but still he slept, oblivious to the growing number of people in his bedroom. "I'm about to find out," he replied, his voice barely audible. As the Slayer watched, his face melted away into his vampire visage, his teeth bared in a silent snarl, hands already curled into claws as his body tightened to spring…

…and a second bolt, this one just as focussed as the first, slammed into him, forcing him to stumble back and into the chest of an approaching Xander. Both men went down in a heap outside the room, and with one last frowning glance at Mack's unconscious form, Buffy followed after them.

*************

The first hit Willow as a sudden shock, electrifying her skin with icicles of flame that caused her to stiffen, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up on end, autonomous responses jerking her hand away from Gino's. His black eyes widened as the magic leapt the distance between them, numbing his fingers but not stopping him from catching her from falling, her thin form arcing against his.

The second, only moments later, was just as strong, and the whimper escaped the redhead's throat as her body spasmed, pressing into Gino's for what seemed an eternity. Although it passed within the blink of an eye, the subjection it left behind forced her to cling to the bouncer for support, and that's how she was standing when the group came back from the bedroom.

"Xander's. Now," ordered Buffy, sweeping past them, the unconscious Anya still in her arms.

*************

The disquiet hung in the air like a vaporous blur, while Giles pressed the wet cloth to the burn mark on Anya's chest, its lukewarm relief doing nothing to quicken her from her sleeping state. Behind the couch, Xander paced like a caged animal, brown eyes darting from his girlfriend to Buffy, and back to the couch again.

"What the hell happened in there?" he demanded.

"That's what I'd like to know," she muttered, careful with her own ministrations to the corresponding burn on Spike's pale skin.

The vampire's sapphire gaze swept past the Slayer, boring into Willow's ashen face. Her breathing was shallow, her pupils so dilated that her normally bright eyes appeared black, and she curled herself up into a tight little ball on Gino's lap. "Welcome to the Titanic, Red," Spike growled.

Buffy's head whipped around, drinking in the sight of her friend. Something was wrong; something had shaken her, and it seemed at the moment that only the dark bouncer's embrace was holding her together. "Willow?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"What…was it?" the redhead whispered.

"Magic. Had to have been," the Slayer replied. "As soon as Mack was attacked. First by Anya when she pointed the gun at him, and then when Spike charged him in game face."

"A protection spell, perhaps?" Giles offered. "But who...?" His eyes cleared, as he answered his own question. "Tony."

At the sound of the musician's name, Willow's eyes fluttered shut. "No…"

Spike sat up, pushing away Buffy's hands, oblivious to the burn on his chest. "No more twenty questions," he said. "Either you tell 'em or---."

"It is a protection spell." Her voice was tiny, forced from her throat with all the reluctance of a sulky child, but her face was shattered, a despondent mask of crystal threatening to fall apart before their eyes. The tears welled, unshed, and she ducked her head to avoid looking at them. "But I didn't know what it was going to do, I swear."

"Willow…what did you do?" Buffy was almost holding her breath, the realization that her best friend was somehow involved in this something she'd never even considered.

"I couldn't do the spell by myself," the redhead started.

For the first time, Gino reacted to those words around him, frowning as his black eyes danced over her face. "Wait a minute," he said. "Not…the magic you did for me?"

She nodded. "I didn't know who else to ask. And when he said he would only do it if I helped him…" Willow swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "I said no the first time. And then the hospital called, and the nurse was all, get down here while you can say good-bye, and I didn't know what else to do. He said the protection spell was for him."

"And you believed him?" Giles couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "After everything we told you?"

"I didn't have a choice!" The dam broke, and the tears flowed freely over her cheeks. "I'm sorry! You don't think I feel bad enough about this already? Even when Spike started in on me---."

Buffy's head whipped around to face her boyfriend. "You knew?" she accused.

"Yeah, and I went chargin' up to Mack 'cause I fancied a little color in my skin," Spike snarked, rolling his eyes. "I just found out tonight. And Red swore up and down it was perfectly harmless, so don't go high and mighty on me, Buffy. I'm not in the mood."

A groan from the couch captured everyone's attention, and Xander practically leapt over the back of it to crouch down at Anya's side. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, her face relaxed into a small smile. "Hey," she murmured, but when she tried to sit up, the pain in her chest sent rolls of knives marching down her torso, and she sank back down into the cushions.

"Take it easy," Xander soothed. "You took a nasty shock."

Anya frowned. "It didn't work, did it?" she asked. When her boyfriend shook his head, she let her eyes flutter closed again. "This world sucks."

"And I'm beginning to agree with her," Buffy muttered, rising from her seat to take Xander's place in pacing the room. "So we got trouble with a capital T now. We can't kill Mack while he's got the spell on him, so we've got to figure out how to get rid of it."

"Was there a charm or amulet in the spell you did?" Giles asked Willow.

She shook her head. "It just seemed like your run-of-the-mill protection spell," she said weakly.

"How 'bout we kill bugle boy?" Spike offered with an angry smile, ignoring the Watcher's dirty look. "Wouldn't that cancel it?"

"Even if it did, it wouldn't work," Willow replied. "'Cause you'd have to kill me, too. I'm just as responsible for it as he is."

Very slowly, Xander raised his hand. "Hate to be adding fuel to the fire here," he said, once he had everyone's attention. "But we got a time limit we're working under now."

"Yeah, yeah," Buffy said, dismissing his comment with a wave of her hand. "The get-what-you-want-then-die clause."

"No," he replied. "I'm talking about the Mack-ordering-me-to-kill-you-and-Spike clause."

The vampire snorted. "Knew his white flag routine was too good to be true."

"Mack told you to kill us?" In spite of her disgust for the club owner, the Slayer had begun to believe that his feelings for her were genuine, so knowing that he would want her dead came out of nowhere for her. "Both of us?" she repeated.

Xander nodded. "He was very clear on that."

"Did he say when?"

"As soon as possible."

Her head was swimming. Too much information, too little time, too few answers. It was supposed to have been so easy. She almost laughed. Since when is it ever easy? she silently questioned.

"It's obvious we're not going to get anything accomplished tonight," Giles said, his voice calm, detached. "I suggest we all go home, get a good night's sleep, and reconvene at Buffy's in the morning to discuss tactics."

"Sleep. Sleep is good," Anya muttered from the couch.

"Yes," Buffy agreed. "I like that plan. Let's go with that."

Slowly, Willow rose to her feet, clinging to Gino as she held back, unable to meet the eyes of her friends. This was all her fault. If she hadn't helped Tony, Mack would be dead right now and they'd be on their way home. Of course, that would mean that Gino would also be dead…

When she shuddered, Gino tightened his grip around her shoulders, the guilt for putting his friends into this position spiralling his heart into isolation. Stupid gunshot, he thought angrily as they walked to the door. If it wasn't for that, Willow and the others would be safe now.

If blame could be weighed, the heaviest burden would've fallen on Buffy's head, as she deliberately distanced herself from the others, staring straight ahead of her as she walked down the hall. Couldn't keep yourself from touching it, she scolded. Just had to get yourself into this mess. And now your friends and the man you love are going to die for it. Good job, Slayer…

*************

The car had been silent the entire journey back to the apartment, the air heavy with unspoken accusations. Even when Gino killed the engine, no one spoke, climbing out of their seats in a somber parade, shoulders hunched, hands buried deep in pockets, energy flagged. Gone was the joy from the afternoon, and in its place lay guilt, a leaden blanket that threatened to suffocate them.

Automatically, Spike held the door open for the two young women as they entered the building, then looked quizzically back where Gino lingered by the car. "You comin'?" he asked.

The dark-haired bouncer shook his head. "I think I'm going to take a walk," he replied, his voice low.

Willow stopped, turning around to look back at Gino, a small frown between her brows. "Are you feeling OK?" she asked, taking a step toward him.

He shrugged. "Just…need to think."

The redhead returned to the cool night air, pulling her coat closer around her, nodding toward the pair who still stood in the doorway. Glancing quickly at Gino, and then to each other, Buffy threw her friend a small smile and disappeared into the foyer, followed almost immediately by a reluctant Spike.

His eyes were ebony marbles, shadowed in the dim streetlight, lids low as he stared at the ground. As Willow watched, he took a step away from her to sit heavily against the hood of the car, one meaty hand rubbing tiredly at his face. "You oughta be inside," Gino said quietly.

"So should you," she countered. "You just got out of the hospital this morning. You need your rest."

"Thought your magic took care of that," he replied, and there was no mistaking the harshness in his voice, the shards of uncertainty cutting through it with finely honed blades.

"You said you were OK with…the spell thing." The sudden fear leapt into her throat, and the realization that she might have tread too far loomed all too closely in front of her.

"I was, until I found out what it cost everyone." There was no mistaking the anger in his gaze as his glittering eyes locked with hers. "What the hell were you thinking, Willow? How could you do that to your friends?"

"How many times am I going to have to say I'm sorry?" she shot back.

"Sorry doesn't get you home in one piece."

"Neither does being Mr. Mopey out on the street."

Gino ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm not the one who has to worry about taking it on the heel and toe before death comes a-knocking," he said. "You had a chance to get home tonight, and you messed it up, and now you've put you and Spike and Buffy and all the rest of your friends in a bigger jam than before, because how in hell are you ever going to be able to kill Mack now? And all because of me?" He shook his head. "It don't add up, Willow. No matter how many times you try to make it. And if something happens to you now…" His voice choked, and he rose from his perch, turning his back to her to lean heavily against the car, head low, thick hands supporting his weight.

She wanted to go up to him, to touch him, to let him know that he didn't have to feel that way, but her feet were bolted to the ground, locked in the cement of her own guilt, and all Willow could manage was, "Nothing's going to happen. I'm going to fix this."

"Like you fixed me?" he muttered bitterly.

"No, I mean it. I've got an idea. Tony likes me, I think, and---." She flinched as Gino's fist slammed into the roof of the car, the resounding metallic crunch echoing down the empty street.

"Goddamit, Willow!" When he turned to face her, the redhead realized it was the angriest she'd ever seen him, angrier even than when he'd walked in on Marty's assault, and the knowledge that it was somehow directed at her---was because of her---was frightening. "How can someone so smart be so dumb?" he demanded. "You're not going anywhere near Tony. Not while I'm breathing. And definitely not while he can do the kind of magic that would protect Mack the way it does."

"That's half my spell, too, you know!" Her own guilt was starting to burn into anger, as Gino's over-protective streak began to shine through. "And I took care of myself just fine before you came along. Going Neanderthal on me now is not going to make things better!"

His hands balled into fists at his side. More than anything, he wanted to hit something, feel something give beneath his power, vent some of the adrenalin that was coursing through his veins. What he wouldn't do to have that musician standing in front of him right then. He didn't understand why she was being so stubborn about this, why she was refusing to see just how negligent she'd been in putting him above everyone else…and it was frustrating the hell out of him. "I'm only trying to protect you," he said through gritted teeth. "Every minute you spend here, odds get worse that something's going to happen to you. And when you turn around and do something as stupid as hook up with that Tony, what do you expect me to say?"

"A little gratitude would be nice---."

"We've been over this. Why aren't you hearing me?" The flush in Gino's cheeks was apparent, even in the dim night. "Nobody's ever meant more to me than you do, and you know you only have to say the word and I'll do it for you. But asking me to say it's jake to be the one responsible for keeping you here, for putting you in even more danger, isn't fair."

"You're not responsible for anything," Willow argued. "This is all me. My fault. My bad. I was the one who did the spell, not you." She watched as he turned away, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets as he began walking down the street. He was leaving? After everything, he was just going away? Without thinking, the redhead rushed forward, grabbing his arm, scurrying around to stand in front of him. "What are you doing?"

"I told you. Going for a walk."

"But now? We're talking here."

"No, we're not. We're fighting."

"Even more of a reason not to just walk away."

Gino sighed. "I'm not…thinking straight right now," he said. The heat was gone from his voice, replaced by an exhaustion Willow recognized all too well. "Everything that's happened today…it's done a real number on my head." He pulled his hand out of his pocket, the fist gone, and gently cupped her face. "You're the smart one, remember? You gotta give me some time to sort this out. I've got all these feelings stuck inside me, and outside of the one that's telling me how much I love you, none of it makes any sense. And I hate that. I hate not knowing."

She swallowed, feeling the words choke in her throat. "Where are you going?" she finally managed.

"Anywhere. Everywhere. I just need to be moving. My brain seems to work better that way." The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as his black eyes softened, gazing down at her pale face. "I'm coming back, if that's what you're worried about."

"I wasn't…" Willow blushed. "OK, yeah. But can you blame me? Me and fighting don't mix well. And I think this is our first really big one, right?"

"Go sleep," he said quietly, his hand returning to the warmth of his pocket. "We got our work cut out for us tomorrow."

The young witch bit her lip as Gino turned and resumed his journey down the sidewalk, broad shoulders hunched under the taut coat that hung over them. She didn't feel like sleeping; she felt like running after him, finishing what they had started, but she knew she wouldn't. The man who never asked for anything had requested just a little bit of time to try and come to grips with an intense past twenty-four hours; there was no way she could deny him that, not after everything, not after seeing the crippling throes in those black eyes.

Pulling her jacket tight around her shivering arms, Willow shuffled back to the front door of the apartment building, knowing that it wasn't the chill in the air that was causing her tremors.

*************

Watching her, even when she was in this mood, was like feeling twenty-five year-old whiskey sliding down his throat…fire etching its way through his veins…that slight sense of giddiness swimming inside his head, making the colors before him dance in vibrant gaiety…the smoky tang that sent sweltering fingers over each knob of his spine. She was grace, she was music, she was…

…pissed off as hell.

Spike's head tilted as she stepped out of her dress, kicking it across the room so that it slammed into the opposite wall, hooking on the manacles to hang there like some eerie wraith. "You goin' to tell me what's wrong?" he chuckled. "Or do I just get to enjoy the show?"

"What's wrong?" she repeated. "If you have to ask, it's even pointless for me to say anything." Her nails clawed at her hose, stripping one leg in a ragged tune.

"Not a mind reader, Buffy," he said. "Much as it may look otherwise sometimes. Now, are you goin' to tell me? Or are you goin' to make me guess? 'Cause I'm thinkin', my guesses might just piss you off more."

"I'm fine," she grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed in her underwear as she struggled with the remaining stocking. "I'm tired. I just want to sleep."

Three fluid steps took him to her side, and Spike sat down next to her, brushing the hair away from her shoulder to expose her neck to him, his thumb skating over the matching pair of scarlet pinpricks that lay there. Her shiver was almost automatic, and Buffy's eyes fluttered briefly before she took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Wasn't twelve hours ago you trusted me enough to let me do this," the vampire murmured, sapphire eyes locked on the visible pounding of her pulse through her skin. "Now all of a sudden, you don't trust me enough to tell me what's botherin' you?"

It took all her willpower to leap from her seat, her breath ragged. "Don't you dare be talking about trust," she said, putting as much distance between them as possible. She couldn't let him touch her, not when every velvet stroke sent her system into overload, not when more than anything, she needed to think clearly, to sort out this mess she had created. "Who was the one keeping Will's secret, huh? You didn't trust me enough to tell me that."

"What, you wanted me to come and pull you off the floor as soon as I found out?" Spike frowned. "Sorry, but I'm not bein' your whippin' boy on this one, Buffy. I didn't do anythin' wrong. Red's the one you're brassed off with. And for what? 'Cause she was so gutted about losing Gino, she made a piss-poor decision to get involved with bugle boy? Hate to break it to you, but I don't know if I wouldn't have done the exact same thing if I was in her shoes."

"So now you're condoning her behavior?" Her hazel eyes were incredulous.

"No," he growled. "I'm sayin' if you were dyin' and I had a way of stoppin' it, I'd probably make a deal with the devil himself if I thought it would keep you breathin'." Rising, he took a step toward her, stopping when she countered him by backing up against the wall. "Don't try sayin' this is about me. Not after everything we've been through to get to this point."

Buffy's pacing resumed, skirting the edges of the room, the feelings of blame crawling over her skin like a swarm of locusts. "You'd never understand," she said. "You don't know what it's like, being me, doing what I have to do. You wouldn't get it."

Spike's teeth clicked as he fought to control his temper. "Especially if you don't give me a chance," he argued. "It must get awful lonely in that gorgeous head of yours, Slayer. Maybe if you'd stop thinkin' you're the Lone Ranger, you could open the door a crack and let someone else in. Maybe carry some of the Chosen's load. I just hope you do it before we all end up gettin' killed." Grabbing a pillow from the bed, the vampire marched to the door, yanking it open. "You feel like talkin', you know where I'll be."

The slam echoed through the room, and all of a sudden, Buffy felt incredibly small, shrinking within her skin as the silence surrounded her. What happened to never leaving? she thought wildly. How could he just walk out like that?

Because you shut him out, the little voice said, and there was no mistaking the sadness in its tone. He's only on the other side of the door; all it will take is opening it, asking him back in, telling him how this is all your fault. He'll understand. He always understands.

But she couldn't. Sleep. Sleep was what she needed. Not blue eyes staring at her as she struggled to find the words. Not porcelain muscles holding her, keeping the fears at bay. Not Spike.

Sleep.

*************

The blindfold dangled from his elegant fingers, grey eyes dark as he surveyed Buffy from across the empty room. "You're not scared of me, are you?" Mack asked, the chuckle in his voice unmistakeable. "Big Vampire Slayer like you. I'm not even a demon. Just a man. Certainly not someone you should be frightened of."

"I'm not," she replied, and stepped forward to yank the black velvet from his hand.

"Just think of it as a…training exercise," he said. "Turn around."

Her body obeyed him in spite of her determination not to, and she felt the soft fabric slide over her face, blocking out the light, swallowing her in darkness as it tightened around her golden curls. She felt his hands slide down to her shoulders, gently massaging them, sending shivers of disgust rippling across her skin.

"So beautiful," she heard him murmur. "My little killing machine."

It took her a moment to discern what it was he pressed into the palm of her hand, but the familiar texture of the wood, the small jagged splinters cutting into her flesh, brought back flashes of malodorous decay, the aromas of festering death so prevalent in Sunnydale's cemeteries, creating a cacophony of horror and relief within her chest. Yes, she missed patrolling, missed the reverberations of her stake crushing through bone, but here…there were no vampires within the painting. Why should she need the weapon of a slayer?

"Find the demon," Mack urged, his voice an oily whisper in her ear. "Kill the demon."

And it was as if her body had a mind of its own, stepping forward to prowl the space, her senses alerting her to the presence of a vampire. Somewhere…close…use my training…must slay…must kill…

Her arm tensed as the demon's presence made itself known. There…off to her right…but it wasn't moving…though she could hear it…

"That's my girl," he coaxed from behind her. "That's my Slayer."

Everything went into slow motion as Buffy thrust forward, her stake connecting with the cool flesh, plunging through the muscle, meeting no resistance as she felt her hand brushed against the demon's shirt. The soft exhalation just before the dust exploded into her face seemed so familiar, as if she'd heard it somewhere before, as if…

…but what vampires lived in the painting world? Only one…and she hadn't…she couldn't have…

Mack's laughter could barely contain its glee. "Welcome home, Buffy..."

Her fingers tore at the blindfold, and her heart was racing as her eyes darted around, flickering over the dust on the floor before dropping to her knees, reaching out to touch it…

No…

…not Spike…

*************

She couldn't breathe, her eyes shooting open to stare up at the ceiling, her arm automatically reaching out to her side to search for the familiar sculpture of his flesh.

Nothing.

No impression on his pillow, no wrinkling of his sheets.

He'd never come back.

Throwing back the comforter, Buffy scrambled from the bed, choking on the sudden need to see Spike, to know that he was still in the apartment, the regret that she hadn't stopped him earlier overwhelming. Stupid, stubborn Slayer, she admonished. All he was trying to do was help…

As she pulled open the door, the image from her dream came flooding back, the smell of the vampire dust still clinging to her nostrils. The prospect that it had been one of her prophetic dreams had already occurred to her, but she wasn't entertaining it, couldn't consider it, not if she was going to find the strength to get them out of this place.

Sometimes a dream was just a dream…

*************

He was exhausted, time having slipped away from him as he walked through the streets, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much thinking. With the sun beginning to caress the horizon, he still had no answers, still didn't know what was going to happen or where he and Willow were going to fit into the whole mess her magic had created, but he'd decided…that was inconsequential. All that mattered was getting back to her, holding her, letting her know that he was going to be there, and most importantly…savoring what little time they probably had left together.

Gino winced as the door creaked upon opening, freezing for a moment before pushing it the rest of the way. He didn't want to wake anyone; they certainly needed their sleep after the night they'd had. When he saw the inert forms intertwined on the chair, he couldn't help the smile that came to his lips, creeping past them as silently as possible before disappearing himself into the bedroom.

When he heard the door close, Spike's lids lifted, and he rested his cheek on the top of her hair. In the circle of his arms she slept, nerves finally calm, eyelashes tiny butterflies on his bare chest. She hadn't said a word when she'd emerged, just curled up into him, pressed her lips gently against his before whispering, "Love you."

Seconds later, she'd been asleep.

Although no words had been said regarding Buffy's earlier mood, Spike wasn't worried, not now. She had come to him; she had been the one to seek him out, so he knew they would talk…when it was time…

"Remember how much Harris hated the plan yesterday?" Spike growled, knuckles white around the handle of his mug. "Multiply that by a hundred and you won't even begin seein' how pissed off I am about this one."

"I think this one's a little different," Buffy argued from her perch near the window.

"Not by bloody much," the vampire muttered, and jumped to his feet to storm out into the kitchen.

She watched his back as he disappeared into the other room, the tension in his shoulders evident even under the loose shirt he wore. Everyone's tempers were a little short this afternoon; not only had almost all of the gang slept through the entire morning, but they had all arrived at the apartment in varying degrees of grumpiness. Surprisingly enough, the one who seemed least affected was Gino, though he was still nowhere near being the gregarious guy who'd played strip poker with a huge smile on his face just a few nights ago. However, that didn't mean that he, too, wasn't feeling the consequences of the previous evening, and she was mindful to keep her tone neutral as she addressed the group.

"So that's the Mack problem taken care of, kind of," Buffy said, turning to face them. "Now about Tony…"

Willow straightened in her seat on the floor. "I've been thinking about that," she started.

Anya rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's just what we need," she commented dryly. "Another of Willow's wonderful plans." When the redhead turned her quizzical gaze toward her, the ex-demon went on. "No offense, but you're the reason we're in this mess in the first place. Well, second place, because we wouldn't even be here if Buffy hadn't touched the painting. But that's beside the point. We had our shot to get home last night and you blew it for us. If it wasn't for you, we could all be in Sunnydale right now, tucked away in our beds, waiting for whatever Big Bad wants to poke its head out again and try and end the world this week."

"Ahn---." Xander's hand settled on his girlfriend's arm, his voice low, but she shook him off.

"Don't Ahn me. I'm only saying what you all are too chicken-shit to say to her face. Willow messed up, big time, and I for one am not happy about going along with any plan she comes up with." She folded her arms across her chest, and glared at the group.

The young witch bit her lip. "Look, I realize that, OK, getting Tony's help was probably not one of my most shiny moments, but---."

"Anya's right."

Her eyes were wide as Willow's head swivelled to stare at Buffy. "What?" she said.

The Slayer's voice was steady, almost too calm, as she did her best not to hurt her friend even more. "You're not in the best place right now for plan-making, Will," she explained. "And we can't afford any more screw-ups." It would be the closest she would be able to come to actually telling the other girl off; the knowledge that she'd made her own share of rash decisions was enough to curb her statements. The fact remained, however, that the redhead's judgment wasn't currently top-notch, and no way could Buffy jeopardize the rest of the Scoobies in order to coddle her best friend.

"I'm tired of pussy-footing around the Tony issue," she continued. "I've been way too nice to him just because he's from our world. And I'm stopping it, as of today."

"Have you got a plan?" Giles queried.

"Yep. It's called Beat the Crap out of the Bugle Boy Until He Reverses the Spell plan."

A huge smile lit up Anya's face. "Oh! I like that plan!"

Turning her head to face the kitchen, Buffy called out, "Spike! Stop sulking and get your ass back in here!"

After a moment, the vampire appeared in the doorway but refused to come into the lounge, choosing instead to lean against the jamb, arms folded across his chest. "Not sulkin'," he said. "Just rinsin' out my mug."

"Uh huh, right." The Slayer turned back to face the gang. "Between what Giles saw and what Willow found out, we've got to assume that Tony's prepared for me trying to attack him. Besides, I can't do anything about him because I've got to deal with Mack." She ignored the snort of derision coming from the kitchen door and went on. "So, for muscle, we'll send Spike---."

"Spike?" Giles interrupted. "But he won't be of any use, not with his chip. Tony's not from this dimension."

"I know, let me finish. Spike's just going to be back-up. I think for this case, we need to use someone our little trumpet player's not going to expect." Buffy settled her gaze on Gino. "I can't make you do this," she said to the dark-haired bouncer. "And I know that our getting home is certainly not your problem---."

"You don't even have to ask," Gino said. "Just point me in the right direction and tell me who to hit."

The Slayer grinned, in spite of herself. Gotta love a man who can appreciate when it's time to fight, she thought. He's a lot like Spike that way. "Right. Then it's settled. Gino, Willow, and Spike will head over to Tony's---."

"Willow?" This came from more than one mouth throughout the room, but each person's tone was the same. Surprise with more than a little dismay.

"Willow," Buffy affirmed. "She's got an in with Tony. He'll open the door to her, more than he would to any of us. It's the best way for Gino and Spike to get inside."

"So, all she has to do is knock?" Anya asked, glancing down at the redhead out of the corner of her eyes.

"Well, that, and she's there to help do the reverse of the spell, if Tony needs her," the Slayer said. Her eyes scanned the room, absorbing the varying looks of concern, frustration, even anger among her friends. Too bad, she thought grimly. This is our best shot at getting home, and I'm tired of playing nice Buffy. "Any other questions?"

*************

Gino frowned as he watched Spike begin stomping on the smoking blanket, extinguishing the flames that had erupted along the hem as he'd made the dash from the car to the apartment building. It was the first obvious sign that he'd witnessed since finding out about the blond's true nature, and though he had been reluctant to believe that aspect of Willow's story, this strange occurrence seemed to support her testimony that his friend was actually a vampire.

"I'm almost of a mind to say bugger to the headache and let bugle boy just have it," Spike commented as he tossed the blanket into the corner.

"That would be the…chip, right?" Gino asked, uncertainty in his face. "The one they put in your head?"

The vamp nodded. "Bloody nuisance. But, I s'pose it's responsible in a way for me and Buffy comin' together, so can't be all bad, I guess."

"Kinda like this painting you guys touched," the bouncer replied. "Not the best thing to happen to you, but it did give me Willow, so I can't hate it too much."

As if on cue, the redhead appeared at the bottom of the stairwell. "Are you two coming?" she asked, a slight edge of annoyance tingeing her voice.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your knickers in a twist."

The trio marched up the stairs in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts, all concentration on the task at hand. When they reached Tony's door, the two men hung back, staying out of sight should it open, allowing Willow to face it alone.

Her rap seemed too loud for the bare hallway, echoing dully against the wood, but the silence that followed was even more deafening. She found herself tapping her heel on the floor, the nervous energy contained within her body desperate for some sort of outlet, before raising her hand to knock again.

"Somethin' tells me the nest is empty," Spike commented.

"Where could he be?" asked Willow, glancing back at the two men.

There was a moment, and then Gino spoke up. "Maybe rehearsal ran late," he said. "Could be he's still at the club."

"Only one way to find out," the vampire said, turning on his heel to head for the stairs. "C'mon, Red."

*************

He couldn't help the whistle under his breath as he packed his instrument, his fingers dancing lightly over the brass, giving it one final caress before snapping the lid shut. Life was good. OK, he still had the whole worry about dying going on, but so far, his spells were holding. The amulet warned him when danger was approaching, the few bits of magic he always had on stand-by were working well enough to ward off the problems that had presented themselves, and his protection spell on the safety seemed to be doing exactly what he'd hoped. Seeing Mack in the club last night, with so few visible signs of his fight with Spike, had been enough to confirm for Tony that the magic had actually worked.

Although he heard the voice in the background, it didn't register on his consciousness until Lombardi had come out to the front of the club, the girl trailing behind him. Even then, it wasn't until she laughed that the musician glanced up, catching the sight of the petite brunette out of the corner of his eye, almost dismissing her until she turned halfway around, cold blue eyes scanning the band as they were filing off the stand.

He wanted to throw himself on the floor, do anything to get out of her line of sight, but settled instead on ducking his head, pretending to be busy with his case as he let himself get swallowed in the crowd. Shit, shit, shit! He should've known. Things were going too good, too smoothly; it was time for his luck to finally run out. One last glimpse over his shoulder as he hurried through the exit was all he allowed himself to confirm…no, she wasn't following him.

Just have to get home, Tony worried as he dashed for the back door of the club. She can't get in unless I invite her, and then once morning comes, I'll get out of here for good. I didn't go through all this just to have to go back to Melinda…

The thought trailed away as he froze, eyes locked on the door of his apartment building as it opened onto the street. For a split second, he had been glad to see the redhead, but when he caught a flash of the platinum blond hair behind her as it ducked back into the shadows of the foyer, Tony realized that Willow had not come to see him alone. Why would she come with Spike? he thought, and then his stomach lurched into his throat, the realization that she must've figured out exactly what his spell had done sending fingers of fear crawling over his skin.

They were looking for him. So desperate to get home, they must've tried killing Mack and discovered the extent of the protection he was under. It had to be the only reason they would show up on his doorstep now. Tony pressed himself into the brick wall of the club, his heart pounding, his trumpet forgotten in his hands. Hello, rock, he thought. Hello, hard place. What the hell am I going to do now?

The answer came to him as he tossed a final glimpse around the corner of the building, watching as Willow disappeared into the front of the Sun. Only one option now, if he wanted to steer clear of Melinda, and avoid confrontation with Willow and Spike.

Run.

*************

"Well?" asked Anya as Xander rested the phone back onto its cradle.

"It sounded like he bought it," he said, brown eyes darting between the two women, his anxiety clearly etched between his brows. "But, you know, I gotta be agreeing with Spike on this one. This plan does not give me a happy feeling."

"It doesn't have to," Buffy replied. "You're not the one walking into the lion's den." She studied her reflection in the mirror on his apartment wall, rubbing at her eyes. "Besides, I shouldn't have to do this for too long. Not if Spike and Gino work their magic on Tony so that he'll do his…you know, magic."

"And you really think you can pull this off? Do you not remember the talent show?"

"This is different. This isn't like having to memorize lines. This is more like pretending I'm sick on a school day so that I can ditch an algebra test, and trust me, I can do that."

"We're only concerned about your safety, Buffy." Giles' voice was low, and though it sounded calm, the tired lines around his eyes belied otherwise.

"Trust me, she's got nothing to worry about," Anya said. "There is no way that man is not going to be thrilled to pieces when she shows up."

"How can you be so certain?"

The ex-demon rolled her eyes. "You didn't spend most of last night listening to him drone on and on about the glories of Buffy. He doesn't want her dead. He's just pissed she married Spike."

"Plus, this'll have me in striking distance when the spell gets reversed," the Slayer chimed in.

"I'm still not happy about you killing him---."

Buffy held up her hand to silence her Watcher. "We're not getting into this again, Giles. The idea doesn't put me in happyland either, but there's no way anyone else can get close enough to do the job."

"Xander could---."

"Xander's not." Her hazel eyes were steady as the group fell silent, and the young woman was glad that none of them could see how much of a tumult her stomach was in. As much as she would never have admitted it to his face, she hated this plan as much as Spike did, the thought of Mack getting anywhere near her bringing her dream back to life all too vividly. Although she was hardly convinced it had been in any way Slayer-related, there was no way Buffy was just going to dismiss it out-of-hand. No, Spike's safety was paramount to her, as was all the gang's, and this plan was the best way to ensure that all of them stayed in one piece. Even if she despised every minute of it.

*************

The drink lit him from within, an inferno in his gullet that brought a sense of peace to Mack that had seemed absent ever since he'd returned to town. It wasn't just the alcohol, though, that brought a glow to those things surrounding him. No, even inebriation couldn't make him feel this good.

He hadn't expected Xander's phone call quite so quickly. Must remember to give that boy a raise, he thought, as he watched the flames flicker within the fireplace. Above and beyond as usual. He wasn't sure why he'd been surprised, but didn't question the dedication of his right-hand man. He's just as driven by results as I am, Mack mused, lips twisted into some semblance of a smile. And now I just have to wait for the other…

The knock at the door broke his reverie, and carefully, he set his tumbler down on the table, taking care that it rested fully on the coaster before rising from his seat on the couch. Hope it's not a messenger boy or something, he thought. It certainly doesn't look very good, me having to open my own door.

She was the last person he expected to see, her pale face made even more wan by the lack of make-up, golden hair hanging limply over her shoulders. Mack felt that familiar tightening in his stomach at the sight of her, but steeled himself to it, lifting his chin just ever so slightly as he gazed out at her. "Buffy," he said, the calmness of his voice in direct contrast to the sudden racing of his nerves.

He watched as she licked her lips, mesmerized by the sight of her pointed tongue as it darted in and out. "I…didn't know where else to go," she said, barely above a whisper. "You can tell me to leave, if you want. I'll understand." Her hazel eyes jumped to meet his gaze, then fell back down, staring at some spot on the carpet in front of him.

He knew he shouldn't, not after what she'd done, but his body was determined to ignore his good sense and stepped aside, allowing her clearance to come into the penthouse. There was a moment as she hesitated, arms hugging her thin form, and then she was in, brushing past him, her flesh just inches from his own. A whiff of her perfume drifted along behind her, assaulting Mack's nose, and his mouth went suddenly dry, forcing him to swallow in order to speak.

"If you don't mind my saying, it doesn't appear as if marriage is agreeing with you," he said, deliberately harshening his tone in an attempt to distance himself from the situation. As he watched, she sat down on the couch, her back to him, burying her head in her hands.

"You haven't heard." He almost didn't catch it, so low was her voice.

He knew what she was referring to, and though yes, he had heard, the thought of hearing the words come from Buffy's mouth was almost too delicious. "Heard what?" he queried, crossing around to the front of the couch, looking down at her with steady grey eyes.

The young woman couldn't even lift her head. "It's Spike," she whispered. "There…was an accident." She gulped, seemingly desperate for air. "He's dead."