The red digital display on her bedside clock read 8:28. Some part of Tara’s mind enjoyed the symmetry of that. The rest was troubled. Pulling the covers aside in one swift motion, she resigned herself to getting no more sleep this evening. She padded into the bathroom, squinting when she turned on the light. As she stared at her reflection, she noticed that the crease between her brows didn’t lessen after her eyes had adjusted to the harsh glare. Her frown furthered the effect.

Four hours of sleep may not have been enough for her tired body, but it did wonders for her sense of reason. Had she really agreed to help Spike? Maybe her lack of sleep and the fact that he looked so hurt and lost had swayed her, but now that she’d slept on it, she had so many misgivings. This spell could be dangerous on so many levels. What if she never found a way to help him defeat Angelus and take his place? What if Angel didn’t want this to happen? What if something went really wrong and they called up hell on earth? Of course, there was still a chance she wouldn’t find anything at all, in which case she’d be able to bow out gracefully. Or maybe she could still talk him out of it.

Sighing, she turned on the water in the shower and shed her nightshirt. She would have to go back to Spike’s crypt and speak with him. But first she would do as she had promised and look for a spell. Somehow, she felt this visit to see Spike might be even harder than the last. The anger and disappointment he was sure to feel would be difficult to watch. Stepping into the shower, Tara wrapped her arms around her body, and despite the warmth of the spray, she shivered.

*********

Spike watched Willow leave the house on Revello Drive, her voice reminding Dawn to be careful or Buffy would kill them both when she returned.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so,” she called as she walked down the driveway. A book bag hung over her shoulder, and Spike decided she must be going somewhere to research or going to class.

He smiled. Perfect. He felt much better after a few hours of sleep - mercifully, of the dreamless variety - and now he would hopefully have a chance to spend some time with his Nibblet without interruptions. He headed quietly for the back door.

Dawn heard Spike come through the kitchen door in his usual manner just as she was pouring herself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. She stifled a squeak, more unnerved by getting caught with the less-than-grown-up cereal than by the vampire’s entrance.

“Hey, Spike. What’cha doing here?”

“Saving you from a culinary disaster, looks like. You’re not planning on that for dinner, are you?”

“Oh, no. Already had dinner. Yup. This is just dessert.”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl, and Spike raised an eyebrow at her in response. “Unless my vampire hearing’s off, that doesn’t exactly sound like a full stomach. Here, let me see what we’ve got.”

“You don’t have to...” Dawn began, but she trailed off, fascinated, as he sauntered over to the cabinets and started opening them at random. After finding the stash of canned goods, he started digging, finally pulling out a red-and-white-labeled can like it was a prize.

“Brilliant,” he proclaimed, holding the can up for her inspection.

“Tomato soup?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, his expression and tone insinuating “duh,” before he placed it on the kitchen island. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a gallon of milk. “Cream of tomato soup. Oh, and look!” A package of cheese slices plopped on the counter next to the milk, followed soon by a stick of margarine and a loaf of bread.

Crossing her arms and smirking in amusement, Dawn watched Spike glide around the kitchen, pulling out a pot, a pan, a spatula, and then yet another package from the cupboard.

“And oyster crackers. These are almost as good as Weetabix. Well, actually better for tomato soup.”

“Do all vampires get this excited about food?” she asked him.

“Nah, most don’t have my good taste. But how could anyone not love tomato soup and grilled cheese? That would be, well, uncivilized.” He smirked at her as he added a dab of margarine to the pan and put it on the stove.

Grudgingly, Dawn did have to admit it sounded a whole lot better than cold Cocoa Puffs. And a few moments later, as the smell of grilled bread, melting cheese, and tomato soup started to fill the kitchen, she was nearly drooling in anticipation. As a distraction, she busied herself with setting the island with bowls, plates, and spoons.

She reached for two glasses. “And what, O culinary genius, do we drink with this masterpiece?”

Spike tilted his head, thinking. “Well, either milk or water, I suppose, would be best. Don’t want it to clash with the taste of the soup and sandwich, but I suppose root beer would be okay, too.”

“Root beer?” Dawn almost laughed, but managed to hide her amusement. It might not have mattered too much anyway, because the vampire seemed to be lost in fond memory.

“’Course, it’s best if it’s a root beer float. With lots of ice cream, so it sticks out the top like a little cloud. Then you can eat it some before mixing it up all nice and frothy-like and get the foam on your face.”

She did start laughing then, and Spike snapped out of his reverie and glared at her as if his manhood had been questioned.

“Hey, now! Nothing wrong with a root beer float.” Sighing irritably, he pointed at her tumbler. “Just pick out a bloody beverage, Bit, and park yourself. It’s almost done.” He quickly busied himself with his cooking, and Dawn was sure that if vampires could blush, he would have been pink.

Filling her glass with milk, she sat down as Spike placed her grilled cheese on the plate and poured the soup in her bowl. He did the same for himself before finding a beer in the fridge and casually popping the cap with his thumb. He put it next to his dinner with a decisive bang, as if to prove it was a manly drink. A huge grin formed on Dawn’s face as she watched him.

“I’m sure there’s some root beer…”

“Eat!” Spike told her, attempting to maintain a stern face. He grabbed a huge handful of crackers and dropped them into his bowl of soup, and then did the same for hers.

Dawn’s first bite of grilled bread and melted cheese elicited a contented moan. She looked at Spike watching her intently.

“It’s perfect.”

It is perfect, Spike thought. This whole bloody thing. God, I’m gonna miss her. Gazing across the counter into those big blue eyes, he knew for certain that this was why he came here, to have one more night with his Dawn.

“You know what would make it even more perfect?” Dawn’s words were muffled by her mouthful of crackers and soup; and, raising an eyebrow at her, Spike waited for her to continue. She chewed and swallowed before saying, “If you’d tell me one of your stories.”

Spike frowned. “Not sure Sis would approve, Bit.”

“Oh, come on. There’s got to be one you can tell me. Something in a PG-13?”

Spike thought for a moment, and suddenly it came to him. It was the perfect story for the perfect night. Fate must be giving this to him, so he would take it.

“Did I ever tell you ‘bout the time I helped save your sis from the Lei-ach Demons?”

Dawn shook her head, face full of interest. “No. When was this?”

“Well, you remember that time Tara’s family came to town? Hadn’t even been a few weeks since my last attempt to get this sodding chip out.”

“Yeah, I remember. You came in after it was all over, like a big no help at all.”

“Wrong,” Spike said, emphasizing the point with a motion of his spoon at her. “I was very helpful. Which is what I’m gonna tell you about.”

“Did you love Buffy yet?”

Despite himself, Spike flinched. “Now, are you gonna let me tell my part of it or what?”

“Okay,” she said, but then her eyes glittered with mischief, and little warning bells went off in Spike’s brain. “But first I wanna hear a story from the old days.” Her eyes gleamed with an anticipation Spike should’ve found disturbing, but instead made him almost proud. “You know, like the one with the girl in the coal bin.”

Spike put on what he hoped was a reproving look. “Now you know Buffy’d skewer me with the nearest wooden object if she caught me telling you something like that.”

A sly look came over Dawn’s face. “Scared?”

He sniffed. Little minx. “’course not. Just, we should respect Big Sis’ wishes is all.”

“Please, please, please,” Dawn said, giving her patented, innocent Puppy Dog Eyes.

Spike melted like the cheese in his sandwich. Besides, Buffy wouldn’t be back anytime soon. Despite himself, he smiled with the satisfaction that came from doing something he knew he shouldn’t do but was reasonably sure he could get away with. “Well, there was this one time in London. Angelus wanted to go see a play…”

*********

“Warren’s not going to leave us here. I just know it,” Andrew insisted for about the tenth time.

Gazing at his friend’s earnest face, Jonathan gave up on reasoning with him anymore. If it hadn’t worked the first nine times... Well, at least Andrew has hope, Jonathan mused, as he took stock of the small, bleak cell. Rubbing the back of his aching neck, he felt as if he would die of boredom, or anxiety, or maybe a combination of the two. Is that even possible?

He sighed. “Well, I wish someone would come for us, but I’m not…”

A sound from the window startled him, and Andrew turned wide eyes his way, words tumbling out of his mouth in a nervous rush. “You dorkhead, you’re not supposed to say stuff like that. Now something is coming for us, I just know it. It’s like that episode of…”

With a loud crunch, the window frame broke in the center, the glass creating a spider web pattern of cracks. The guards had to have heard that, right? Jonathan thought. Jumping up, he grabbed the bars and tried to look towards the door at the end of the hallway where the station’s main desk lay, but no one seemed to be coming. Another crunch and a glimpse of what looked like a heavy object covered with material bashing into the window sent Andrew grabbing for his arm, flinching as the glass fragments started to crumble away. Frightened as he was for the moment, Jonathan didn’t mind Andrew’s proximity, but maybe he’d complain later. Right now he was too busy being scared out of his wits. Reaching through the now cleared window pane, a pair of hands gripped the bars and bent them. The hands looked human enough, but...

“Vampire?” Andrew almost squeaked.

“Don’t be an idiot. Why would a vampire go to all this trouble?” Jonathan asked.

“If it was as pissed off as I was it might,” said a familiar voice.

Squeezing herself through the opening she’d created in the bars, Buffy dropped gracefully to the floor of the cell. Rubbing her chafed hands on the seat of her slacks, she stepped towards them, her blazing eyes locked with his.

Why is she looking at me? Jonathan thought.

“It’s the Slayer,” Andrew said quite unnecessarily and huddled closer to him.

In response, Buffy raised her eyebrows in an incredulous look. “Could you two be any more pathetic?”

Disengaging himself from Andrew’s grasp, Jonathan tried to regain some semblance of dignity. “What do you want, Buffy?” He managed to say it without his voice faltering, but his moment of confidence was fleeting as she moved closer, the menace in her face increasing.

Her hands fisted at her sides. “What did you call up last night? What monster did you summon just so you could grab some unearned cash?” She directed the last to Andrew, and he quailed in fear.

“N-nothing. What monster?” Andrew asked.

“I saw the havoc you left behind at the carnival. They had footage on the news. So don’t try to deny…’

Jonathan interrupted her quickly. “That was no monster. It was Warren.”

Hissing at him, Andrew drew back his fist and hit his arm hard. “Dude, that’s so not cool! You shouldn’t have told her that. Now she’ll go after him.”

Jonathan tried to pull himself up straight and look menacing but conceded that the effect was likely ruined by his extreme lack of height. “Yeah, I should’ve. I should’ve told her a long time ago. I know you don’t believe this right now, but Warren has gone too far. He has to be stopped.” Turning to Buffy, he met her scathing gaze with as much confidence as he could muster. “But it might not be that easy. He has these orbs we got that make him super strong. That’s how he was able to tear things up.”

Buffy crossed her arms and frowned. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

“No way. He’ll beat you to a pulp,” Andrew said, unable to keep the hint of pride from his voice.

Throwing him a disgusted look, Jonathan turned back to Buffy. “The orbs will be somewhere on him. You’ll have to find them and smash them. That’ll make him normal again.” He watched Buffy studying him and watched her expression soften. Somehow he knew it was all he would get in way of thanks.

She nodded slightly. “You both better hope I get to him before he hurts someone else,” she warned, before spinning and heading swiftly for the window.

“That’s it. That’s all we get?” Andrew asked.

Turning back to them, Buffy shot Andrew a questioning look. “What? You want me to pound you, too? Come a little closer.” She smiled with a cold amusement that made Jonathan a little queasy.

“No, that’s…” Andrew didn’t bother to finish. Buffy had already turned away and leaped for the window. Before they even had time to think of a proper retort, she was gone.

*********

“And then I punch her in the nose,” Spike said, punctuating it with a fist motion.

“Well, that was mean,” Dawn remarked around a mouthful of grilled cheese crust.

“Hey now, it hurt me, too. And anyway, it proved she wasn’t part demon, didn’t it? ‘Sides, I’d already saved Buffy from the Lei-ach Demon,” he explained as if that had filled his quota of good for that day and then some. Sitting back on his stool, he looked quite proud of himself.

“By cracking open the demon’s skull with that big knife and splattering his blood and brains all over the training room wall?” Dawn asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “And hi, Tara!” she added enthusiastically, waving at her.

Her hand still on the doorknob, Tara smiled back and had to bite her lip as Spike turned to see her standing on the threshold. His expression was one of almost comic horror.

“I didn’t bloody tell her that. I swear!”

He turned back to Dawn to give her what Tara supposed was a scathing look, but the younger Summers dismissed it immediately as the empty threat it was, being long since immune to Spike’s threatening tirades. Tara had always been impressed with Dawn’s ability to stand up to the vampire, no matter how elaborate he made his intimidation.

“I believe you,” she assured him. Glancing at the bowls and plates on the island, her expression changed to one of chagrin. “O-oh. Didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner. I was just…”

“I think we’re done,” Spike told her. “Or I could make some more if you’re hungry?”

“No, thanks. I ate.” She smiled shyly. “Though I have to say, yours smells better.”

“Cream of tomato soup and grilled cheese,” Dawn announced as if it were the best meal imaginable, “It was great, Tara. Although apparently it might’ve been even better with a root bee… Ah! No, Spike, stop!”

Smiling indulgently, Tara watched as the vampire jumped off his stool and chased a squealing Dawn into the living room where she ran behind the couch to grab a pillow like a shield.

His smirk was one of exaggerated menace and perhaps a little bit of pride that Tara didn’t want to think about. “Can it, Bit, or I’m telling Buffy ‘bout the time you and your little friend Terry snuck into the graveyard, and …”

Dawn’s eyes widened with the familiar horror of a teenager threatened with mortification. “Okay, okay, Spike. I won’t say it. I promise.”

Spike nodded in satisfaction. “You better not, or else -” Tara supposed he sensed her moving into the living room, because he stopped, and turned to meet her eyes sheepishly. “Um, right. You looking for Red? She’ll be back soon, I suppose.”

“Actually, I just stopped by to pick up some books I left here. Then I’m on my way to the shop to research.”

“Right. Um, you need my help?”

Dawn perked up immediately, practically bouncing on the couch arm she had commandeered as a chair. “Ooh, can I help? Please, please, please,” she begged. Turning to look at her, Tara caught the Puppy Dog Eyes full force and shot a look at Spike.

His eyes flickered in response. “Well, you might’ve, but I think it’s a school night. ‘Sides, I did the cooking. That means you get the dishes,” he told her.

“What? Wait, no fair.”

“I don’t know. Sounds fair to me.” Tara cocked her head, and Dawn’s disappointment turned to resigned irritation.

She glared at the vampire. “Oh, I’m so gonna get you back for this.”

“Terry and the graveyard,” he reminded her with smug glee. “Besides, I think I owe you one for that little stunt you pulled in there earlier.” He jerked a thumb towards the kitchen and raised his eyebrows at her.

The teen smirked. “It was so worth it. You should’ve seen the look on your face when you saw Tara there.” Giggling, she avoided Spike’s grasp as she headed for the kitchen to clean up.

“And you behave until Willow gets back. And no sneaking out,” Spike called into the kitchen.

“As if I’d have the time,” Dawn called back. “You must be the messiest cook on Earth. How many dishes does it take to make soup and sandwiches?”

Listening to the exchange, Tara gathered the books she needed from the dining room and stuffed them into her book bag. She came back in time for Spike to throw her a knowing look.

“Enough to keep her busy and out of trouble.” Then his expression became more serious. “You sure you don’t mind if I come with you? Or would you rather research alone?”

“Y-you can come,” she told him. “This does concern you.” And maybe you can see why we can’t do this after all, she thought.

Spike nodded once. He glanced towards the kitchen with a sad smile, and Tara knew what he was probably thinking. If there were nothing else in this world he would miss if the “change” took place, it would be Dawn.

Turning, he opened the door for her, and with a swirl of his leather duster, they stepped out into the dark night.

TBC

Spike shifted in the passenger seat, trying to keep his eyes on the road ahead and wishing that he was the one driving right now. It would at least have given him something else to focus on besides the nervous woman beside him, and Tara would have been hard for any vampire to ignore. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and a small but discernable amount of perspiration gathered on her forehead. Even the noisy thrum of the engine couldn’t mask the quickening beat of her heart or the forced control of her breathing. Suppressing a growl of frustration, Spike silently fumed. I told the girl I wouldn’t hurt her, so what is she so damned jumpy for?

Thankfully and before too long, the familiar storefront of the Magic Box was glowing in the headlights. Spike was out of the door and stalking across the parking lot before the car had even come to a full stop. By the time Tara reached him, Spike was glowering impatiently by the back entrance to the shop. She unlocked the door with unsteady hands, but before she could enter, he stepped to the threshold and asked, “Okay, now, what’s wrong?”

She froze, sensing his annoyance and barely suppressed anger. Her breath quickened again, and she ducked her head, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. “N-nothing. It’s f-fine.” But she didn’t try to brush past him into the store.

Spike raised an incredulous eyebrow. Don’t they know by now that I can read them more easily than that? Dipping his head to look into her face, he caught sight of her expression, and he knew. Drawing himself up again, he clenched his teeth and sucked in his cheeks slightly. “You’re having second thoughts.” His eyes flashed amber in the dim glow of the streetlamp, and Tara flinched.

Spike felt his grip on the doorframe tighten dangerously. Her startled expression and obvious desire for flight gave him a guilty thrill as she shook her head, a denial dead on her dry lips.

“Go ahead on home to your bird, why don’t you, and snuggle in your nice warm bed. No need to worry about keeping your word.” His tone wasn’t very convincing, but he sniffed and tossed his head slightly in forced bravado in an attempt to sell it. “It’s not like you’re the only person who can help, after all.”

A distant flicker of light inside the shop caught his attention momentarily, and realizing that perhaps he wasn’t so wrong after all, he smiled coldly. “Someone else here I can see who might be a bit more willing to lend a hand.” His voice was harsh, biting back like a wounded animal; and ignoring Tara’s anguished expression, he pushed past her before he lost his resolve.

Damn it, Tara thought as she followed him into the shop and closed the door. I wasn’t ready. I wanted more time to prepare before I told him. To explain why. Craning her neck, she peered after him, trying to see where he’d gone and desperately trying to come up with the right words to say. She knew that she’d better think of something, because he looked pretty confident he could get help elsewhere, and that would likely not be of the good. And then the significance of the shop lights dawned on her. Anya. Oh, definitely not of the good, Tara thought, and she ran a hand through her wind-tangled hair.

No one had seen much of Anya after the incident at the wedding. Tara wasn’t sure what to expect from the jilted ex-vengeance demon, but she was certain that her mood would not be of the fluffy kitten variety. Likely more along the lines of… She didn’t even like to think words of that nature. And she was sure that exercising caution would not be high on Anya’s list of priorities right now. If Spike worked his charm, Tara knew she was more than likely to be swayed, and she urged herself into action.

Even now, as she entered the shop proper, she could hear Spike’s smooth voice as he leaned across the counter towards a primly dressed Anya. At times like this, Tara could see how Buffy was taken with the vampire. Although this was mostly an act, she could imagine how effective his charms would be when genuine feelings were behind them.

Anya, however, had over a thousand years of experience with men of all varieties. “And this would benefit me how?” Tara heard her saying. And a bottom line practicality with a no-nonsense attitude to match, the witch thought admiringly.

Smiling winningly, Spike responded. “Because Xander will hate the idea, love. Only person he hates more than me is Angel. You help me do this, and Angel will likely be around more often to drive him ‘round the bend.”

Anya’s eyes glowed. “Oh, I like the sound of that. No one else seems to think Xander deserves any retribution for what he did to me.”

“I do, luv. Doesn’t know how good he had it with you.”

“Thank you. Glad someone sees that. But why would you want to do this?”

Tara almost sighed in relief. Spike wouldn’t want to explain this to Anya in any detail.

“Does it really matter why I want this, as long as Xander will hate it?”

Anya stood up straight and her face brightened. “You’re right. Why should I care as long as we both get what we want?”

Okay, Tara thought, so Anya’s practicality has a decided downside.

The vengeance demon leaned in conspiratorially towards Spike. “I have my powers back, you know. You could make a wish.”

“No!” Tara interrupted.

They both turned to her, Anya more startled than Spike by her outburst.

“D-don’t do it that way.” Tara’s mind was racing along with her heart. “Vengeance wishes are t-too unpredictable.”

“Unpredictable?” Anya remarked, obviously offended.

“W-willow told me what happened with Cordelia’s wish. I’m sure that wasn’t what she had in mind.”

“I gave Cordelia exactly what she wished for,” Anya defended herself. She crossed her arms. “She said she wished that Buffy had never come to Sunnydale, so that’s what I made happen.”

Spike’s eyes widened with interest, but he didn’t interrupt the women’s discussion.

Tara looked at the ex-vengeance demon incredulously. “W-willow was a vampire. Xander, too. You can’t tell me that’s what Cordelia wanted to happen.”

Anya shrugged. “It was her wish.”

Spike looked like his curiosity finally got the better of him. “And where was I in all this? Bet I was enjoying Red and Harris as vampires.”

“Oh, you were gone,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“Gone?” Spike asked. “As in South America?”

“No. Gone gone. Because Buffy never came to Sunnydale, she never defeated the Master and she never found Angel.”

Spike snorted. “Can’t be too sorry about that.”

“Instead, he was the prisoner of the Master and Willow,” Anya continued almost cheerfully. “You tried to get him out. So you could cure Drusilla. But the Master had risen, so he was too strong for you, and you were badly wounded. By the time you recovered, Dru was dying and beyond help. So you granted her final request.”

“Which was,” he prompted warily.

“Oh,” she began with a smile. “For you to see the sunrise together. And being the loyal vamp you are, you didn’t want to be without her, so you held each other until the sun came up, and poof.” She motioned with her hands dramatically. “And your ashes drifted gently to the ground, mixing together.” She waved her fingers down through the air as one might do to signify rain. “It was so romantic.”

Spike raised his eyebrows. “Yeahhh.” He shook his head as if trying to clear it of the image. Turning to Tara, he said. “Oookay, no wishes from the vengeance demon, then.”

“You don’t have to die in your wish,” Anya said with a bright smile.

Spike turned back to her. “I think I’ll pass. Better stick to the garden-variety magic. That’s bad enough as it is, love. But I’m sure you have some experience in that area. You could still help me, if you like. Remember, Xander will hate it,” he reminded her with a winning smile and a slight ducking of his head.

Anya nodded slightly, considering, and somehow Tara knew she was going to concede. She could sense it happening. Feeling helpless to stop it any other way, her resolve finally crumbled. “All right, all right, damn it! I’ll help you!”

Her outburst caused Spike to turn to her, mouth slightly agape. Anya simply raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t like it,” Tara added more softly. “There are so many ways this could go wrong. We don’t even know if we can find a spell yet that will link your minds and allow you to defeat Angelus. And what if he kills you?”

Spike raised his hand in a placatory gesture. “I’ll be careful, pet. We’ll be careful,” he amended, and dropping his hand, he started pacing. “You’re not talking to someone who takes magic lightly, here. We’ll do this right.” He fished in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it in his mouth and lighting it as he continued to pace. “You have to understand. I have a feeling in my gut that this is the right thing to do. I don’t want to leave her. And I’ll have to if we don’t do this.” He stopped pacing to look at Tara imploringly.

“Did I miss something?” Anya asked.

“Yeah, pet, but I’ll fill you in. If you help us research, that is.”

“As long as it doesn’t cut into my time here running the shop.”

“We’ll likely have to purchase supplies,” Spike coaxed.

“More likely steal them,” Anya retorted.

“For your help, Anya, I’ll buy them. Cash on the nose. I promise.” He put his hand over his chest and gave her an innocent look.

“That would mean more if your heart was actually beating,” Anya pointed out. She sighed dramatically. “What are we looking for?”

“Spells that link minds,” Tara answered. “Demon minds.”

Walking over to join Spike at the bookcase, Anya began perusing the titles. She turned to him. “This better be a good story as to why we’re doing this. And you better not give me a watered down version,” she added as her eyes moved back to the volumes.

Tara felt a guilty stir of satisfaction as Spike gave a defeated sigh. At least she wasn’t the only one having some second thoughts. “No watered down version,” he promised Anya begrudgingly, the look on his face clearly decipherable. “Buffy’s going to kill me for this.”

*********

It had sounded like a good idea at the time; let Warren have the first blow - a ruse to conceal her newfound knowledge of the nerd’s current state. Surprise always worked well, Buffy had found. So that was the plan. Pretend not to know about his super strength. “La, la, la, I’m unsuspecting Buffy. Don’t know a thing.” Then let him have it when he least expected it. At least that was the plan until Warren actually hit her. The blow sent her flying back into a wall. That hurt! she thought, and immediately followed it with, screw the plan! I’m so gonna kick his ass. Already annoyed at having spent the last three days looking for the little weasel, Buffy was suddenly in no mood to let him knock her around. Or to pretend she was shocked about it. She advanced on Warren with a murderous glare. Seeing her abrupt change in mood from regular Buffy to royally pissed off Buffy seemed to momentarily shake Warren’s confidence. Buffy guessed old habits died hard. But before long, he recovered his composure, bolstered by his stolen power like a balding man driving a shiny sports car.

Well, Buffy planned to break his little toy and wipe that smile off his face. Her uppercut to his chin sent him flying backwards onto his rear, and she felt a rush of satisfaction. At least until he smiled and laughed maniacally at her.

“It’s going to take more than that, Slayer,” he taunted as he picked himself up, seemingly unharmed.

“Oh, I haven’t even started,” she spat back.

“You have no idea who you are dealing with.” He swung at her again, but Buffy didn’t let his blow connect.

“Wrong. I know who I’m dealing with. A murderer and a thief. And I’m going to stop you.”

She swiped his feet from beneath him with a powerful swing of her leg. Warren fell, but he rolled away from her before she could pin him down. He thrust his own leg towards her, connecting with her thigh and stunning her until he could rise from the ground.

Taking a cleansing breath, Buffy tried to calm herself. Some rage was good. Too much rage made her unfocused. While exchanging a few more blows with him, she tried to think. Her main goal had to be to get those orbs. Unfortunately to do that, she likely had to lose ground a bit, lull him into a false sense of hope. That strategy would probably mean more pain for her - so what else was new? - but in the long run would shorten this battle a bit. That was fine with her. Unlike fighting vampires, this fight was rapidly becoming tedious. As well as there being no satisfying poof into dust at the end, she knew she couldn’t kill him, no matter how tempting the thought might be. Warren’s next blow, this one bloodying her nose, almost made her rethink that no killing humans philosophy, but instead she went with her plan and allowed herself to fall backwards.

Warren took the bait and charged her, and Buffy had to fight all her instincts and not throw him off as he pummeled her, but when he brought his arm back yet again, she finally saw them. Bingo. She grabbed the pouch from his belt in a flash, ripping the leather straps that held them there. When she smashed the orbs on the ground beside her, she relished the look of utter fear that crossed his face as the power left his body. The moment was fleeting.

“Bitch!” he spat, and jumped off of her before she could grab him.

Why don’t they ever let me enjoy my victories? Buffy thought. She ran after him, but he’d planned an escape she could never have anticipated. Grabbing something from behind a trashcan, he shouldered it, and went straight up, his rocket pack firing from his back.

“Hey!” She raised her arms in frustration and yelled at the sky. “Give me a friggin’ break!” Then she calmed herself and smiled. At least she’d smashed the orbs. Warren would have to go back to just being his ordinary self, and next time she found him, she wouldn’t let him escape.

*********

Willow was actually sad that class had to end early this evening. She supposed that probably made her a nerd, but hey, she got the good grades, didn’t she? However, as she walked quickly down the sidewalk, keeping to the well-lit areas, she supposed walking to the parking lot alone hadn’t been the smartest idea. She probably should have just waited until her friend got out of class so they could walk together. But then she wouldn’t be able to stop by the Magic Box and surprise Tara. Breathing a sigh of relief when she made it to the car, she allowed herself a little silent gloating, so as not to tempt fate, before slipping behind the wheel.

Willow smiled the whole way to the shop. Tara had been so busy lately, researching. It would be good to see her. Maybe she could talk her lover into letting her help, convince her she’d be fine researching magic as long as she stayed away from the actual application. If it would help Buffy, she’d be glad to bear the temptation. She pulled into the lot, parking right beside her girlfriend’s car, and almost skipped to the front door.

But as she neared the shop entrance, something seemed off, so she peered carefully through the front door. Upon catching sight of the two other people gathered around the table with Tara, her hand froze in mid knock, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. Why would Anya and Spike be researching with Tara? Come to think of it, Tara had carried a faint smell of smoke after her research sessions the past three or four days. An ugly feeling of betrayal began to seep into Willow’s brain. Tara hadn’t mentioned researching with Spike. Or Anya for that matter. Willow didn’t like feeling that her girlfriend was perhaps hiding something from her. Maybe Tara felt she couldn’t trust her with the truth. But she had been doing so well. She’d stayed away from magic. How could Tara not trust her?

For a moment, Willow considered knocking. Very telling that I still haven’t gotten my key to the shop back, huh, she thought bitterly, but she so didn’t feel like talking with Anya tonight. Though her good mood was already ruined, there was no need to make things worse. Seeing Anya and dealing with a snarky Spike would likely ensure bad-moodiness; and sighing heavily, she headed back to her car. She would ask Tara about it later, and bypass any need to subject herself to Anya and Spike. Besides, there had to be a good explanation, right? A perfectly innocent one must be available. Although if that were true, why did she feel so betrayed?

Despite stopping for a donut and coffee and taking the scenic route home, the ugly thoughts couldn’t be chased from Willow’s mind. And hours later, as she crawled into a cold bed alone, they still remained.

TBC

Looking at the notes before her, Tara knew stalling was no longer an option. The spell was inevitable now. The other occupants of the table had been working with her for too long on this, had been with her every step of the way, and had even found some of the spell's components. She couldn't pretend that there was much more left to do. She'd been surprised at how helpful they actually had been. For someone who was wary of magic and spells, Spike seemed to know an awful lot about the subject, and about languages used in the spells, especially demon ones. And for someone to whom magic powers had been innate for so long, Anya had quickly picked up the nuances of spell-casting magic. But then again, such knowledge was good for business, so Tara supposed she shouldn't be that surprised. No, soon it would be useless to stall any further.

"How's it coming?" Anya asked as if reading her mind. "That bridge spell for minds that I found should have helped. And Spike's adjustment for demons."

"I've almost got them incorporated," Tara acquiesced.

Anya brightened. "Good. I'm glad I could help. The actual spell, though..." She wrinkled her forehead. "It's going to be long, isn't it?"

"Most likely," Tara answered.

"And delicate?"

"Definitely."

She nodded as if expecting that. "Then I'd better not. I might get called away."

"Called away?" Tara asked.

"Vengeance," Anya explained off-handedly.

Tara shivered a little. "Oh."

"It's been slow lately and D'Hoffryn is not pleased, so…"

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Spike said with some sympathy.

"Right," Anya said, but there was no enthusiasm in her voice.

The silence that followed was so awkward, Tara was almost glad for her reason to break it. Almost. She held the piece of paper out towards Spike. "You may want to look this over. It's a first draft, but fairly close."

Taking the paper from her, Spike gave her a grateful look. "Thanks.”

"And S-Spike..."

He titled his head and waited.

"I might have some conditions before doing this."

"Whatever you need to do," the vampire conceded.

Tara nodded. "I'll let you know soon."

Anya seemed to take that as a signal that she was free to go. "Well, let me know how this turns out," she said as she stood. “I’d like to be there to see Xander’s face when Angel comes back.”

Spike looked up from his perusal of the spell and smiled at her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

"Good luck," she told Spike.

"Thanks, pet," he replied, sparing her a brief gaze before returning to his study of the spell.

Tara stood as well. "I better be getting back. I'm sure Willow is wondering..."

"'Course, love. I'll lock up."

Tara nodded, and then gathered her things quickly. She needed to get home to Willow. She'd sensed something in her lover recently, a growing unease, and these late nights with Spike and Anya weren't helping. At least this was one good thing to come from finishing the spell. She could go home to her girlfriend.

As she entered the room they shared, Tara saw the expression on Willow's face, the imploring eyes that begged for an explanation, the lips that curled in a frown, and she knew Willow knew something.

"Tara…" Willow began, but Tara cut her off.

"Willow, I have something to tell you. And I need your help. Will you help me?"

The almost relieved smile that came to her lover's lips made Tara's heart ache. Perhaps she should have told her from the beginning, but then again Willow would have wanted to help, and what she would do now was risky enough. Willow always got so involved when creating a spell. At least this way, that temptation was already gone, but...

"Whatever you need, baby," Willow said. "I'm here for you. You know that, right?"

Tara knew then that she couldn't deny Willow the chance to help. And with her girlfriend’s guidance, perhaps she could actually make this work.

*********

The door swung open almost immediately after Tara’s hesitant knock, but Willow didn’t expect the face she saw behind it. The normally manicured hair was somewhat disheveled and the usually bright, blue eyes were tired. Spike looked worn out, for lack of a better description. That was short-lived. Upon seeing her, the vampire’s face soon turned annoyed.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked Tara, a slight tone of betrayal present in his voice.

"I s-said that I would help you do the spell, but under some conditions, and this is one. Willow must be here when I do it."

Spike shook his head. "No. She can't help. I don't want her doing any magic." He looked straight at Willow, and she felt his conviction. "It's too easy to fall back into old habits. I know." He closed his eyes a moment before returning his gaze to Tara.

Willow had the feeling Spike spoke from experience and was both somewhat touched by his concern and annoyed by his tone. Why did everyone think she couldn’t handle this when she had been doing so well? Taking a cleansing breath, she focused herself. She wanted answers. Spike would explain to her what this was about, and what he had to say had better be good. This was Buffy, her best friend, and she was darn tootin' going to be told what this was about if she was going to help. She would ease his worries, though, and let him know that she planned to be careful. "I won't be performing any of the spells myself," she told the vampire. "… if there are going to be any spells," she added in a serious tone that was punctuated by her resolve face. "But Tara wants me to talk her through some of the more difficult stuff."

Spike nodded, though somewhat reluctantly. “All right, but how come I have the feeling that it’s not that easy?” The look he pinned on Tara was a little intimidating, and Willow bristled slightly. Her lover lifted her chin and held her ground under his gaze, and Willow was proud of her.

“Willow wants to know. She wants to understand. I thought it would be better coming from you.”

Spike’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to tell her? I can’t do that. Too many people know already. Buffy would stake me if she found out.”

"She d-doesn't have to know that you told," Tara said.

Spike shook his head. "It would hurt Buffy.”

Tara held his gaze. "Willow can't understand your point of view unless you tell her. She'll keep the secret. Buffy won't know."

"But…"

"It's necessary," Tara told him. "I won't do this without Willow. And Willow won’t do this unless she understands."

Spike looked at Willow then back to Tara. "I don't like it. This might hurt Willow, too, and I'll get blamed."

Tara looked at her with some concern. "It might, but it is necessary."

"Okay, not liking the implications here," Willow said. "What are you talking about?" What could possibly be that bad?

She was about to find out.

Spike explained it all, starting with the truce he and Buffy had when they fought Acathla together, a detail Buffy had never really shared with the rest of them, but that Spike seemed to think was the turning point in his unlife. Willow might not have believed it until he laid the details out for them: how the other demons quickly found out, how he was then considered weak, how Drusilla no longer thought him demon enough, and how his desire to win her back had brought him to Sunnydale - twice - and had finally resulted in his current chipped condition. The thought that one event could change someone’s existence so drastically unnerved her so much that she almost missed Spike’s subsequent mentioning of the spell that caused him and Buffy to be engaged until she noticed Tara looking at her in admonishment. And barely controlled amusement.

“Willow, you didn’t, did you?” Tara asked her.

Fortunately, her brain belatedly caught up with the conversation. “It was an accident. I said I was sorry,” she added sheepishly. “Remember - lots of cookies.” Then she sat up straighter. “And hey, no trying to pin this on me. You still tried to kill Buffy and us after that, so no blaming me for your feelings for Buffy. That wasn’t when it happened.” She nodded, proud of herself. This mess definitely wasn’t her fault.

“Okay, no,” Spike admitted. “That wasn’t when it happened.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Though I’m sure it didn’t help any either.” He sniffed before continuing his story.

It turned out that the last time he tried to get his chip out was when it had happened, or at least started, Spike not being completely positive it was really love and not just obsession until the torture incident with Glory. Willow raised her eyebrows in surprise. “It started that long ago? How could we not have known?”

“Um, well,” Spike began, “then you’re really not gonna like the rest of this. That’s nothing compared to what’s happened since Buffy came back.”

Again Willow was skeptical. What could have possibly happened that was so huge and that she didn’t know about? This was Buffy, and sure, there had been the whole coming back from heaven thing, but certainly there couldn’t be that many more secrets. Again she was wrong.

The first shock came when Spike told his story about when Buffy first came back and about how she told him about being in heaven.

Willow's eyes widened. "You knew the whole time? She told you?"

He quickly attempted to diffuse her ire. "Now, don't go getting all hurt. There was a reason she told me, and it's not because she thought I was her bestest friend," he said sarcastically.

"And you didn't tell us?" Willow continued, not feeling very consoled. "We might have been able to help her sooner."

"She told me never to tell," Spike explained. "And well, you see, after I knew… well, you had hurt her."

"You were mad at us," Tara said knowingly.

Looking away, Spike nodded slightly. "I tried not to be, but..." He shook his head. "It's not important now. Water under the bridge.”

“No. You had a right to be angry,” Tara said. “We didn’t tell you. We should have told you.”

“Yeah, well remember that when we get to this next bit, huh, ducks. You might have to do a little interference.”

Willow felt her stomach clench. “This is gonna be bad, isn’t it?”

Spike looked at her askance. “Oh yeah.” He shot a pleading look at Tara, silently asking her to let him off the hook, but Tara only shook her head, so he took out a cigarette and lit it. “Buffy and I… It started when Sweet came to town. We all spilled our guts and well, I said some things that Buffy might have taken to heart. It might have happened anyway, even though things were going so well. Us as friends I mean…”

Willow knew stalling when she heard it. “Spike, what are you trying to say?”

“That night, after Sweet left, we kissed.”

“Well that’s not so bad. As long as it didn’t…”

“And then a little while later we…”

He didn’t have to say it. By the look on his face, she knew. Her mouth dropped open. Then her eyes narrowed and she sneered. “What did you do to her?”

“Me?” Spike asked. “I didn’t bloody start it.”

“But you sure took advantage, didn’t you?”

Spike rolled his eyes and pointed to himself. “Vampire, here. Since when am I supposed to be the model of restraint and virtue?” He took a deep drag of his cigarette. “But that’s not the point. Point is things got ugly fast. Only I didn’t see it. Or didn’t want to. And I didn’t want to give her up. I said things. She said things.”

Tara looked like she remembered something and had to ask. “That night with the demons that made time mess up. Something happened, didn’t it?”

Spike tilted his head at Tara questioningly. “Why do you ask?”

“What happened, Spike?” Tara asked.

Seeing her lover’s troubled face, Willow had the feeling that Tara knew something, and perhaps had known something about this for a long while.

“No, luv, you don’t want to know. It was bad. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“You hurt her somehow.” Willow felt the words come out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Spike didn’t answer. He looked away and crushed out what was left of his cigarette.

“N-no,” Tara almost whispered. “She hurt you, didn’t she? A-and it was bad.”

Spike shook his head. “My fault. I wanted her to. Thought she’d feel better if she…”

Tara’s mouth gaped and her eyes opened wide in realization. “At her birthday, when you were beat up. She did that? Spike, you don’t have to let her beat you. You can stop her now.”

“Look, it wasn’t really that bad. Besides, I did some things I shouldn’t have as well. I’m not the innocent here, Tara.”

Willow hardly heard Spike’s response. Her mind had latched on to what Tara had said. “What do you mean, he can stop her now? Is his chip not working?” She felt her body tense and her breath catch.

“Still got the chip.” Spike said. “It only doesn’t work on Buffy.”

Willow turned to Tara. “And you knew this and didn’t tell me? He could have killed her.”

“He w-wouldn’t hurt her,” Tara objected.

Spike snapped his gaze up to Tara. “You know that’s not necessarily true. That’s one of the reasons I’m doing this.” Willow felt his eyes on her now and looked up. “I’m getting desperate, Red; I can’t lose her again, and I can’t stand to see her unhappy anymore. I’m afraid I’ll do something to hurt her trying to get her back. But if I can get her Angel, I could still be a part of it, and she could be happy. She needs someone like him. Because a regular guy…” Spike shook his head. “No room for a regular guy in the Slayer’s life. Not the way she is anymore.”

Willow might have objected to that, but considering Buffy’s history, she decided the point was likely moot. A regular guy, especially a new one, would be one more complication, one more thing for Buffy to worry about. "And that's where the spell for Angel’s soul comes in."

"Right," Spike said, and he looked grateful that she hadn’t disagreed with him. "They may be living in separate worlds now, but they could get together every once in a while. Whenever they needed contact with one another. And she'd know there was always someone there for her. So I thought it would be perfect. Fix it so he wouldn't lose his soul when, well, you know. But once this stupid side effect thing came to light, well... Let's just say that if Angelus got control, he'd kill her. If I'm the demon, I already love her so there wouldn't be that danger. I'll just have to be strong and not let the bleeding soul get to me. I'll just have to accept it and not fight it, and it'll be fine. She'd have her soul and her demon."

"But if you think it's the soul, why not have us curse you with the new and improved spell?" Willow asked.

Spike looked at her like she was insane. "Hello!" he said. "Demon here! I'm the one that loves her. That bloody wanker William, whose body this was, if he came back through the curse, he'd be the bloody one in control most of the time. That is, if he didn't off himself from the guilt. And," he added with emphasis, "if you only knew what he was like." He scoffed. "He'd probably run off with the nearest spinster librarian he could find."

"Spinster librarian?" Willow asked. "Someone called William the Bloody would run off with a librarian."

Spike, too riled up to think of what he was saying, blurted out, "He was William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry. He was a total git. He made Giles look tough…" He stopped his tirade when he saw them looking at him. "You tell a bloody soul," he warned with a growl.

The women dipped their faces a little, trying their best not to smirk.

"That wasn't me." He pointed to himself. "Evil demon." He snorted. "Took me decades to forget all the stupid poetry, though." He smirked a little. "Though for a while there, I used to recite it to make Dru laugh. She thought it was amazing that anyone she thought had such vision could create something so gauche. Then we used to agree that after that rot, he deserved to get eaten." He tilted his head and took out another cigarette. "Hell, we did him a favor anyway. He never would have recovered from that broken heart."

"Broken heart?" Tara asked.

"Yeah. He loved some bint that thought he was beneath her. Used to write all that poetry for her, and when he told her how he loved her and she rejected him... They were staring at him. "Bloody hell," he said. Then he looked at them seriously. "It's not the same thing. I am not him!"

"W-we believe you," Tara said, trying a little too hard to sound convincing.

"But some of the personality remains," Willow said. "At least that's what Angel said, because believe me, when I saw vampire Willow, I didn't think that could be me, but..."

Spike closed his eyes and took an unneeded breath through clenched teeth. "I spent most of my unlife trying to get rid of William. You can't know what it's like. To be a freak. To feel things I'm not supposed to."

"T-there's nothing wrong with feeling things," Tara soothed.

"There is when you're a bloody demon!" Spike spat. “I’m not supposed to feel these things. And now.” He exhaled in frustration. “I’m… changed, but… I can’t be a monster, but I’m not a man. No matter what I try to do it’s not enough. Still evil in her mind. Still can't feel the guilt for the world she seems to think is so necessary. Still don't have a moral compass. Never will. I'm a demon. Can't change that, no matter what good things I try to do." His jaw worked a little, and he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

Even though he was with them, Willow had the feeling that Spike felt like he was alone. She was beginning to see why Spike wanted to do this spell despite the consequences. He wanted to be something other than an outcast. He wanted somewhere to belong. Willow knew the feeling all too well.

For Tara, it was the pain in Spike’s eyes that affected her the most. She felt a momentary twinge of guilt remembering a college conversation concerning the Hunchback of Notre Dame. She remembered how she had told Willow that Quasimodo could never have his Esmerelda for the very same reason. That everything the hunchback had done was for the selfish reason of his love for the woman who could never love him back. Somehow faced with a real someone in the same situation, it didn't seem so cut and dried.

"After you get put in his body, you won't have control most of the time," Willow explained. "I mean, at first, you will have some control, while things are still getting settled, but later you will mostly be in the background. Like being in his shadow."

Not much different than now, his expression said. "But, I will be there, right? I'll know what's going on?"

"I would assume so. Otherwise, Angel wouldn't have known what his demon did while he was away, and vice versa, so I'm sure there is some interaction, and some awareness, somehow," Willow answered, trying to sound convincing.

"That's more than enough, then," Spike said. "I mean, it'll be hard, not being in control, but I'll still be able to love her, and be with her, even if it is just in his shadow."

The last part passed his lips almost as a whisper, but Tara heard it. In response, she made a noise, almost like a whimper.

Spike looked at her and tilted his head. "Something wrong, pet?"

Tara took one look into his emotion-filled eyes, and the tears that had been threatening hers began to spill. "Goddess, how can she not see how much you love her?"

Spike turned away, and swallowed hard. "She can't let herself, love. It doesn't matter if I love her. I'm evil. She's good. Nothing good can come of it for her. I'm beneath her." His voice was getting rough. "Now don't bloody say anything else or I'll…" He pressed the heels of his hands in his eyes and sniffed to stop tears that Tara knew should come, but that he wouldn't let them see.

They didn't touch him. They didn't say anything. They just let the vampire be.

Tara cried quietly, overcome by emotion, but also because she understood. Sometimes loving someone wasn't enough. Love didn't always conquer all. The world was too complicated a place, and sometimes love was too delicate to meet its demands. Then she felt Willow’s hands rub her shoulders, and for a moment, just a moment, she could almost believe that it could.

Her attention was brought back to the vampire as he took a last shuddering breath and raised his head. He raked a hand through his hair, and then looked at Willow expectantly, his eyes demanding an answer. He was done. No more explanations would be given. They could see that in the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his jaw. He was finished baring his metaphorical soul. Now it was up to Willow to say yes or no.

Willow cleared her throat. It sounded loud in the silence of the crypt. "All right," she finally said. "I'll help."

Spike closed his eyes and nodded a thank you. "'Preciate it." He hefted himself off of the sarcophagus. "Better get going," he announced.

"Where are you going?" Willow asked softly.

"Hard part’s not over," Spike explained with an ironic smirk. "This was easy. Now I gotta go break the news to Angel. He'll either accept or stake me. Either way, the problem will be solved."

"Be careful," Tara said.

Spike smiled at her softly, looking somewhat touched by her concern. "Too late for that now. Much too late." He let his gaze shift to include Willow. "I'll let you know when I get back. You can start preparing whatever you need to until then. Do you need any money for supplies?"

"No, I think we'll be fine," Tara said. To herself, she thought, You have enough to worry about right now.

Spike nodded and headed to his lower level to get what he needed for his trip to L.A.

*********

Angel looked strangely at the young man who held out the envelope. He was no more than Connor's age.

"You don't know who this is from?"

"H-he never told me his name, and please don't ask me any more. Just take it so I can go."

Angel had the feeling that there was some coercion involved in the delivering of this message, so he decided not to push the boy further. Any answers he gave were likely to be lies, anyway. Of course, he could always flash some fangs, threaten information out of him. He sighed at the thought, and instead reached out to take the manila envelope from the boy's fingers. Nearly dropping the package in his haste, the young man was out the door before Angel had the chance to change his mind.

He contemplated the envelope a moment, trying to distinguish anything from the smell or texture, but in the end, he settled for opening it. The torn piece of photocopy fluttered out along with a handwritten note that read, "This is part of a spell that can permanently bind your soul to you. If you want to know more, meet me at the abandoned Mercer warehouse on Huxley tonight at midnight. I would prefer you came alone."

Angel looked for more, and finding nothing else, stared at the paper and the note. A tingling sensation crawled through his body as he thought of the implications of the note and the words written on the photocopy. It was a spell, that was sure, but could it really be what the note said? His brain warned him to be cautious, but his heart wanted to grab at any chance that it might be true. He would go tonight, he knew. Now he had to decide how much he should tell his friends and coworkers. Sometimes it was hard not being a loner anymore. There were others to consider now, but he guessed it was a price he had to be willing to pay. Taking the papers carefully, he went off in search of Cordelia.

TBC

A battered streetlamp provided the only illumination in the old, abandoned building, its yellow haze filtering through a smashed window to glitter across the broken glass that littered the floor. The building's lone occupant disrupted that light, his body throwing shadows across the dusty room as he paced restlessly. He listened to the glass fragments crunch under his boots, marginally calmed by the grating sound.

Spike was nervous, and that made him angry. Why should he be nervous? He was the one that held Angel's potential happiness in his hands. Yeah, he thought, but that won't do you a sodding bit of good if the poof turns you into a pile of dust before you can even speak, now will it? And he could think of a dozen reasons why Angel might do just that, not the least of which being that Hairboy would know that he'd been with Buffy. Well, maybe he could convince him her scent on his coat was from a recent fight, rather than a shag. Yeah, right, and he was the queen Mum.

Spike wanted to smoke, but that would disrupt the rhythm of his pacing, so he had to decide which would be more calming. Finally opting for the smoking, he halted, leaning against a support pole near the broken window. No need to deprive myself of the night air, he reasoned. One advantage of being a vampire, smoking didn't hurt your sense of smell. Though considering the neighborhood, perhaps that might have been a good thing. Withdrawing a cigarette from his tattered pack, he raised the flame of his silver lighter to the tip. He sighed as he exhaled smoke and contemplated the darkness of the warehouse, letting it distracted him only for a moment. Maybe this was a mistake, he thought, then raised his head. Too late now though. Angel was there. Spike could feel him.

"I hope you're planning to hear me out, before you do anything rash," he said.

"I don't know what you could possibly have to say, Spike. This must be some sort of trick. You'd never suggest doing this for me otherwise. You..." Stopping abruptly, Angel stiffened, his hands clenching into fists by his sides.

Oh, yeah, he knows. Spike threw his cigarette down dramatically, making sure it flared in the dark as it descended.

"Yeah, figured you'd be able to tell. Suppose now you want to fight first."

"First? If we fight, that's the only thing we'll be doing," Angel growled. "What did you do to her, Spike?"

He began a slow, circling pace around the younger vampire.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. No one ever does," Spike said, his expression mimicking that of a martyr. He kept a discreet, but wary eye on his grandsire. "So let's get this over with. You can beat the shit out of me so you can feel all manly, then we can get down to business. Doing minimum permanent damage would be to your benefit, however."

"I'd rather kill you."

"Yeah, but then you won't get your cure, now will you?" He gave Angel a smirk. "Unless that isn't what you really want. Maybe you like that little clause in your curse. Gives you a good excuse to walk away from her and still feel like you're the wronged party." Spike pointed at him for emphasis and flashed him a smug look.

In response, Angel threw a punch, but his anger made it easy for Spike to grab his wrist before the punch could connect.

"Ooh, what's the matter? Did I hit a nerve?" Spike taunted him, and then grabbed Angel's other wrist, stopping the next strike as well.

"I left, because I loved her enough to let her have a life." Angel said through clenched teeth.

Spike could see the rage there behind his rival’s eyes, kept in check only to deny him the satisfaction of claiming he was right.

"You were the one who pointed out we couldn't be friends, remember?" Angel yanked both his hands out of Spike's grasp and returned them to his sides, fists balled.

"If you really loved her, you would've made it work."

Angel pushed him away a few feet, out of his personal space. "You have no idea what love is Spike. What kind of sacrifice it takes..."

"Don't I?" Spike's eyes flared and threatened to turn gold. "I love that woman more than you ever will! I would do anything for her. I'd give my whole damn life just for the chance of her love, but you're the one she loves. Nothing I do can change that. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm doing this. For her! Not you."

Momentarily abandoning all plans of attack, Angel stared at him in disbelief. If Spike had said that he was going to dance down the street in a pink tutu, Angel couldn't have been more surprised. Actually, the tutu sounded much more probable. He barked out a snorted laugh, just one, as he searched Spike's blue eyes for any indication of deceit. He couldn't find any.

"Spike, you can't be serious? This makes no sense."

"Never claimed it did. Since when has love made sense?"

"You're telling me you love her? You love Buffy?"

"That's what I just got bloody through explaining to you, you git. Weren't you paying attention?"

"Oh, I heard you. It's just... Spike you hate Buffy. You've been trying to kill her for years."

"Past tense, mate. Long time ago. Been in love with her going on almost two years now. Couldn't kill her for a year before that." He pointed to his head. "Got a government chip in my noggin. It sends electric shocks to my brain if I try to hurt a human. Can't kill anyone except demons. That's been for three years now."

"Why'd you let the government..."

"I didn't let. They just did. Had no choice in that. Fought it a long time, I did. Tried to get it out. Gave up after a while." Spike sighed heavily. "It's a bloody pain though. Sometimes the bad guys are human, then I'm useless to the Slayer."

"So now you're telling me that you help Buffy? What do you do? Go around killing vampires and demons?" Angel asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.

"Yeah, I help. Or I did. Don't think she'll let me anymore. Things got complicated."

"Why doesn't that surprise me? And why should I trust this story that you've got a chip in your head, and even if you do, that you wouldn't kill Buffy the first chance you had to get it out."

Spike sighed again. "The first part is easy. We go back to your work, and I'll show you how it works. Doesn't take much. Believe me, the blasted thing's sensitive. And the second, I don't need the chip out to kill Buffy. Already could do that if I wanted. Some wonky side effect of her being brought back from the dead. Don't want to kill her. If you need proof, I'll get you Tara's number - she's Red's girlfriend. She'll back me up on that. Better yet, Red knows, too. She could tell you I'm not lying."

"Spike this is crazy, and..."

"Look, what do you want to do? Do you want to go back to your place and sort this out, or do you want to fight? Standing here bloody talking is not one of the choices. It accomplishes shit."

"Oh, you're wrong about that, but we can continue talking back at the hotel," Angel said. "But first..." With inhuman speed, he boxed Spike on the side of the head. Hard.

Spike stumbled from the blow and looked angrily at his grandsire. "Hey!" he objected.

"That's for touching Buffy," Angel told him. "Be glad I don't kill you for it. Though how you talked her into it..."

"I didn't talk her into anything. It was her idea. I'm in love with the woman. You really expected me to say, 'gee, Buffy, maybe we better not do this?'" Spike asked him with a badly done country accent and a look that asked him if he was crazy.

Angel glared at him.

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist. She used me good and proper, told me I was dirt, and dumped me. Oh, after she told me she did want me, but she'd never love me, so it was killing her. Guess that was somehow my fault." Spike grumbled the last part, but his voice picked up again. He was on a roll. "Worst part was, somehow in her mind, now she couldn't even be associated with me anymore." He put his hands up and shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to the door and continued as he started walking. "I mean, where'd that come from? Before we started shagging we patrolled all the time together. The rest of the bloody Scoobies knew that. I was always at her house even before then to look after Dawn. Then suddenly she can't even be seen talking like friends with me?" He scoffed. "It's just Spike. He'll be there if we need him, otherwise treat him like a dog. Never mind that he worked beside us all summer, killing the nasties..."

Angel would have stopped him, but it was like a train wreck or a sideshow. He couldn't take his gaze away from the spectacle unfolding. Not even Spike was this good at making up such an elaborate story.

Spike stopped his tirade as he came to his motorcycle, and looked at Angel. "You got your car? If so, we'll have to break and meet up at your place."

After letting the motorcycle catch his attention for a moment, Angel looked at Spike. "And they said I was strange for driving a convertible."

Spike shrugged. "Got it off of a demon I killed." Smiling evilly and raising his eyebrows, he added, "Besides, the Slayer liked it."

Angel shot him a murderous look but knew that's what Spike was hoping for and stopped himself. He decided to goad him back instead. Besides he could always kill him later. "So you really helped Buffy's friends while she was gone?" He made sure to make it sound like he thought it sweet.

Spike looked like he'd been caught. So Brood Boy had been paying attention to his little tirade. He might as well come out and admit he was a bloody poofter if he agreed, but lying would make him look like he was making everything up. Damn Angel. He always did know how to get to him. "Phh, I had to kill something, right. Demons gotta kill. Might as well do it with help. 'M not exactly popular with the demons these days. 'Sides, if I wasn't a good little dog, they'd never let me see the Little Bit."

Angel raised his eyebrows in question. "Little Bit?"

"Dawn, you git. I happen to like the girl. Just like her Mum. That woman made a nice cuppa. Now are you gonna ride with me or not?"

"I've got my car, though I've got to admit, that's a nice ride."

"Hands off." It'll be yours soon enough, he thought somewhat bitterly, then swallowed his venom. He had to remember who this was for, who it always was for. Buffy.

"Hyperion Hotel," Angel told him.

Spike nodded and mounted the bike. He sped away loudly into the night without looking back.

"Damn nice ride," Angel said as he watched him leave.

*********

Entering the lobby with Spike in tow, Angel said "hey, Cordy," to Cordelia as he crossed the floor. Spike noted that Angel didn't find it at all odd that she was up at this time of night.

Cordelia looked up briefly from the invoices she was sorting through, her gaze taking in both vampires before returning to the bills. "Angel," she sighed. "What's Spike doing here? I mean I know we help the hopeless, but I think that's taking charity a little too far."

Spike gave her a winning smile. "That was funny. I see you haven't lost your wit." He turned to Angel. "See, that's how you make a joke. You should teach him sometime." The last remark he directed back to Cordelia, his smile still radiating charm.

"I'm afraid that would also fall under the hopeless category," Cordelia teased. "And why again are you here?"

"Must be unpaid invoices," Angel explained, indicating the papers Cordelia held with a movement of his head. "They always make her a bit testy. Not much you can generally do about it."

Sidling up to her, Spike tilted his head to look her over from what he seemed to think was an interesting viewpoint. "Why, Cordelia, you look simply smashing once again. I love the hair."

Cordelia smiled back, her mood brightening considerably. "Thanks. At least you noticed. It took those guys weeks to notice I'd even changed it."

"Damn crime, that is," Spike commented, noticing she didn't catch herself and say "Hey!" like the last time he complimented her. Nor did he sense the trepidation that she showed last time they met. This is going to be fun, he thought. When his smile turned slightly evil, she frowned at him.

"What?" she asked, her tone more annoyed than anything else. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

He reached out in a flash and grabbed her, vamping out, and moved towards her neck as if to bite her. He let go before his fangs even touched her and put his hands to his head in anticipation of the pain to come.

"Hey!" Cordelia exclaimed. "Watch it, Fang Face!"

Angel moved forward, but oddly enough, Spike noted that once he let go of the woman, Angel seemed to be moving to keep him safe, rather than Cordelia.

"Wait a mo'," Spike said. "That's not right." He pinched Cordelia on the arm.

"Ow!" Cordelia said, punching him hard on the arm in return. "What are you doing, you freak? Angel what's the deal here? Are you going to do something about this?"

Shaking his head almost comically, Spike looked at Angel. "I swear there's a chip in my head. It's bloody supposed to activate when I hurt a human. It can't have stopped working! Not now." A little note of panic laced his voice.

Angel was looking at him, trying hard to suppress his amusement.

"Angel, what is he blathering about and can I zap him or what?" Cordelia asked in annoyance.

"No," Angel almost smiled, and then he forced himself to be a little more serious. "No, Cordy, he's got my cure. And what this was all about... he says that he's harmless to humans, because he's got a chip in his head. I didn't entirely believe him, so he was trying to use you as a guinea pig."

"That's right, and I'm telling the truth," Spike said. "Don't know what's bloody wrong," he said, but he could tell something was up by the amusement on Angel's face and his eyebrows lowered just a little.

"And you said this 'chip' works on humans," Cordelia asked.

"Right. Only doesn't go off if there's demon there..."

"Well, that's your problem, you moron," Cordelia told him, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

Spike looked at her as if she was daft.

"Duh!" she told him pointing to herself. "Part demon." To demonstrate her point, she put down her invoices and brought some light to her fingertips.

"Cordelia, Sweetheart, don't char anything else in the room. Angel did a good enough job with that, and I really don't want to have to redecorate again," Lorne said as he glided into the lobby.

As if the sight of Cordelia with some obviously strange changes wasn't surprising enough, the appearance of the demon with the bold fashion sense threatened to break Spike's grasp of reality. Looking at Angel slightly agape, he asked, "Did I just fall into an alternate dimension? Is anyone here even remotely normal? And lastly," he added, indicating Cordelia with a movement of his hand passing over her form, "what the hell happened to the cheerleader?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "I have to tell this story again?"

"Oh, like you don't love being the all-powerful one?" Lorne chided her.

Cordelia ignored him and turned to Spike. "I inherited visions. They hurt. They were killing me. I could either lose the visions and become a famous and wealthy actress - the only catches being Angel would go insane, Wesley would lose an arm, and potential bad might occur without wonderful me to save the world - or I could become part demon so... I'm part demon. No big deal."

With a turn and a snort, she moved back into the office, taking her invoices with her. Almost immediately she poked her head back out. "Oh, and if you really don't have Angel's cure, or if you harm him in any way, I can obliterate you so fast you won't even see it coming." A smile crossed her lips, but somehow it brought a chill down Spike's spine.

"Well, right, then," Spike said, turning back to Angel.

Angel shrugged a little sheepishly. "Cordy's a dangerous woman. I wouldn't tempt her."

Spike just nodded once before saying, "Well, speaking of dangerous, who's the fashion rebel with the killer ensemble, here? That could blind a bloke at forty paces."

Lorne's tangerine suit and bright yellow shirt did have almost a glow of their own. The demon didn’t seem to notice though; he stood there as if he was the height of fashion, his smile and facial expression showing nothing but complete ease with his whereabouts.

"Well not all of us can pull off the black leather look that you seem to have down pretty well," Lorne said. "I'm Lorne."

"Well, obviously demon, so no help there," Spike said as he searched the lobby. The next potential victim he saw didn't even seem to notice him. The large, dark-haired man with the impossibly blue eyes went strait into the office and put his arms around Cordelia. "Let me guess, not human either," Spike said to Angel.

"That's the Groosalug, and he's half demon."

"Isn't anyone around here human?" Spike asked.

"Well Fred and Gunn, but they're out on assignment."

"You're not looking for dinner are you?" Lorne asked, 'because I don't think Angel would allow that."

"No," Spike said, strangely offended. "I was trying to show Brood Boy, here, that I've got a chip in my head that makes it so I can't hurt humans, but I can't find any bloody humans to test it on. Where's Harris when you need a head to smack?"

"You get that urge, too, huh?" Angel asked him.

Spike snorted. "Doesn't give me a bloody break, and makes Buffy's life harder, he does. She's so worried he's gonna find out about us." Spike shook his head.

Lorne cleared his throat. "Hey, listen Blue Eyes, there is another way."

"He's not gonna like it," Cordelia singsonged from the office. She was gathering up her purse and jacket.

"What? What am I not gonna like?" Spike asked suspiciously.

"I can read your intentions. And your destiny," Lorne supplied.

"But..." Spike prompted.

"You have to sing first," Cordelia supplied.

"No, no, and no. No more singing," Spike stated vehemently. "That went to hell enough last time. Bloody singing demon."

"A singing demon?" Lorne asked, intrigued.

Angel snorted. "And this was scary?"

Cordelia came into the room carrying her purse and jacket, Groo beside her. "Did he sing like Angel? 'cuz that would be scary."

"Hey, I don't sing that badly," Angel complained.

"The Gelled One sings?" Spike asked with an evil smile. "I'll do it if he does."

"No!" Cordelia objected. "I mean there has to be another way. You don't have to sing much," she said to Spike, her eyes begging him.

Sighing, Spike looked at the green demon. "So you're not all evil like that other bloke? 'Cuz he was..."

"What did he do?" Lorne looked genuinely interested. "I mean if there are evil singing demons, I need to know. Gives the rest of us a bad reputation."

"Came out of some hell dimension because of a talisman. Made people sing stuff. Spill their secrets when they shouldn't. Then there was the whole bursting into flames thing. Almost lost the Slayer..."

"Buffy burst into flames?" Angel asked, obviously alarmed.

Spike shook his head. "I didn't let her. Stopped her 'fore she did. But that's kinda what started this whole thing with her and me."

"Because you saved her," Angel said.

"No, the singing. I told her stuff I didn't want her to know right then. Changed our relationship. She was kinda relying on me at the time. Stuff she couldn't tell her friends, and..." He shook his head. "I don't want to bloody talk about this," he said suddenly. "It's not important."

"I think it might be," Lorne told him. "Sing me a few bars of what you sang to her,"

"What? No! It was personal."

"Just a few lines, and it'll be all over. I can tell you everything you want to know, and assure Angelcakes here that you're telling the truth. Come on, if Angel can sing Barry Manillow..."

Spike raised an eyebrow at his grandsire.

"Go on," Lorne encouraged him. "Just look at me. Pretend they aren't even there."

"I'm doing this for her..." he muttered before singing, "I died so many years ago, but you make me feel like it isn't so, and why you've come to be with me, I think I finally know..." he stopped, glared at Lorne, and crossed his arms.

Cordelia exhaled. "Why is it the evil ones that can sing?" she asked the sky. "Come on Groo. We better get food, I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

"Are you going to get chicken wings?" Spike asked, his momentary embarrassment forgotten at the prospect of spicy wings.

"Chinese," Cordelia answered.

"Ooh, that's good too, pick me up some kung pow chicken."

"But you're a vampire," Cordelia snorted. "You don't eat food."

"I do, too. I eat all the time," Spike said, offended.

Lorne cleared his throat. "He's especially fond of those onion things that look like a flower."

"Bloody brilliant those are," Spike agreed, nodding. "Hey!" he added, looking at Lorne.

"Gotta say, Blue eyes, you're the strangest vampire I've come across, not including Angelcakes here."

"Oh, now I want to stay," Cordelia said.

"Can't, honey, you know that. This is for him, and in this case for Angel. Who under this unique circumstance can stay."

"But then we will not know if there is evil to fight," the Groosalug said.

"Don't worry, I'll pry it out of Angel later," Cordelia said to Groo as she walked with him towards the door.

"No you won't!" Spike yelled in her direction, but Cordelia was almost out the door and ignored him. Suddenly not so sure he wanted Angel to hear his secrets, Spike gave Lorne a worried look.

"Did you tell him?" the green demon asked Spike.

"Tell him what? About Buffy? Didn't really have to."

"No. About your plans, Sweet Cheeks? About what you intend to do for him?"

A venomous scowl preceded the response. "My name is Spike. And no, I haven't told him yet."

"Don't you think it's time you did?"

"Tell me what?" Angel asked. A concerned expression crossed his face, and his eyes showed suspicion.

"Was working up to it. He has to believe me first. 'bout what I'm telling him. 'bout the chip and Buffy."

"I can assure him about the chip," Lorne said as he turned to Angel. "It's in there alright. Tiny little bugger, but it packs quite the wallop. It hasn't had too much to do in the last few months thought, has it?"

Spike looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Not sure I know what you mean."

"I mean that you've gotten used to it. You don't test it much anymore. There was that one incident, but you really weren't that mad when it turned out the chip was fine. I believe you said something about her having something wrong with her, not you.” A raised eyebrow accompanied his statement.

"Didn't mean it that way. 'S not natural, this." He pointed to his head.

"No it isn't," Lorne agreed. "But you are unusual all by yourself, Blondie... er, Spike," he amended. He ducked his head slightly. "Okay this is gonna be a little painful. Not as bad as when I did this with Cordelia and flew across the room but..."

"What are you gonna do?" Spike took a step back and eyed Lorne suspiciously.

"You want to convince Angel your feelings are genuine. Well, we're gonna relive some. You and me."

"Don't want you in my bloody head..." Spike started to object, but Lorne reached out and placed his hands on either side of the vampire's forehead before he could finish his tirade. Some light flared from his green-skinned fingers and Spike's eyes went wide for a moment as some sort of connection was established between them. At the barest level of detection, an almost thrumming vibration rose and subsided. Then Lorne started speaking.

"The weapons are in the chest over by the TV. I'll grab the stuff upstairs.

Spike replied easily, the scene vividly coming into his memory. "Uh, Buffy... if you want to just hand them over the threshold..." Despite Lorne's contact with his head, Spike still moved slightly, his hand gestures punctuating his words. Angel watched in fascination. He'd never seen his friend do this before.

Lorne continued with his role. "Come in, Spike."

Spike continued as well, completely involved in his memory and oblivious to his surroundings. "Hm, Presto. No barrier." A pause followed and an expression Angel couldn't entirely recognize. Gratitude came closest. He could almost imagine the scene the two were playing out in front of him. "Um, we won't bother with the small stuff. A couple of axes should hold off Glory's mates while you take on the lady herself."

"We aren't all going to make it, you know?"

"Yeah. Always knew I'd go down fighting."

The slight hitch in his voice and the look in his eyes told Angel that Spike hadn't been joking in his belief that he might die.

Lorne's tone was equally somber. "I'm counting on you. To protect her."

"'til the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight."

Angel heard the emotion in his voice, the seriousness of Spike's promise.

"I'll be a minute," Lorne responded.

Spike's face twitched and he grimaced before returning to the replay of his memories. "I know you'll never love me. I know I’m a monster. But you treat me like a man and that's... Go get your stuff. I'll be here."

Spike closed his eyes and panted a bit, but Lorne didn't break the contact between them. There was a slight shifting in the air, the thrumming returning for a moment, and somehow Angel knew this was a different memory now.

Lorne began speaking. "Well, what do you know? It's just about that time."

Angel could tell by the menacing tone of his friend's voice that he was no longer playing Buffy. This appeared to be a much different character.

"Doesn't a fella stay dead when you kill 'em?"

Spike's tone was different as well. Gone was the gentle, emotion-laced voice of the previous scene. It now carried an edge, a slight desperation that might go unnoticed by someone who didn't know him as well as Angel did.

"Look who's talking?"

"Come on, Doc. Let's you and me have a go."

Spike's shoulder movement and body language told Angel that this was a confrontation.

Lorne's character was cool, detached. "I, ah, do have a prior engagement."

"This won't take long."

"No, I don't imagine it will."

Spike's body jerked and he let out a strangled yell. Then his face became determined, his breath coming in unneeded pants. "You don't come near the girl, Doc."

"I don't smell a soul anywhere on you. Why do you even care?"

"I made a promise to a lady."

"Oh?" A pause accompanied by jerky movements. "Then I'll send the lady your regrets."

The look that came over Spike's face then almost broke Angel's heart. He could only guess that the girl Spike spoke of was Dawn. That would explain the utter horror and desperation reflected in the blue eyes as he pleadingly said, "No." And then he screamed.

Spike closed his eyes again and his face twisted a little. Neither Lorne nor Spike moved for a moment, but then Spike's eyes flew open. A look of disbelief crossed his features before they crumpled into anguish. His hands moved to cover his face, and he sobbed.

Lorne let the contact break as Spike fell to his knees and continued crying pitifully. The green demon looked at Angel, tears in his eyes. "There was..." he cleared his throat. ”There was going to be one more scene, but I think he's had enough." He shrugged, waiting a moment while the vampire sobbed before adding apologetically, "He'd relived that one so many times I didn't think it would be so raw when I saw it flash briefly during his reading."

"I'm bloody right here," Spike ground out through gritted teeth, adding, "you poncy bastard." He wiped fiercely at his tear stained cheeks.

"What was that?" Angel asked Lorne. "Was it... Buffy?" He sounded slightly disbelieving.

Lorne nodded softly. "Well first in that last scene, it was a young girl named Dawn. The last was Buf..."

Spike suddenly leaped from his knees and grabbed Lorne by the lapels. "Don't you ever," he growled. "How could you do that to me?" His voice was still choked with emotion.

"I felt I had to. Angel had to see."

"Did it have to be that? Couldn't it have been..."

"Don't you think it's time you stopped blaming yourself, Spike?"

Spike released him with a snarl. "You don't know a thing. She counted on me to protect Dawn! If I'd a done that..."

"You weren't the only one there that night," Lorne interrupted him. "There were others on that doomed mission. And doomed it was. Did you ever stop to think that it was meant to be? That the powers had that planned all along?"

Spike shook his head. "No. It was my fault. My fault she had to die, and my fault that she's unhappy now."

Lorne gave him a sly smile. "Because you were the one that tore her out of heaven, brought her back to life to claw her way out of her coffin..."

"I had nothing to do with that!"

"My point exactly," Lorne said. "Why do you think it was you she wanted to be with when she came back? You understood. Even that first night. You were the one that held her bleeding hands and told her you knew what it was like to claw your way out of your own coffin. You knew she needed time. Time to just be. No expectations. You gave her all you could, Spike. You're a vampire after all. What more could anyone ask of you?"

Spike snorted bitterly. "It wasn't enough."

"Didn't say you were perfect," Lorne told him with a smirk. "You did help in the train wreck that followed between the two of you. I'm just letting you know that you weren't the only one to blame, Spike. There's plenty to go around. You're the one here now, trying to do something for her."

"Yeah, but if I'd kept my promise..."

"Because after Buffy died, you skipped town and left all those bad memories behind you."

"I didn't leave," Spike corrected him. "I stayed and took care of Dawn." He exhaled and rolled his eyes. "I get it. I stayed so you think I kept my promise. It's not as simple as that."

"It never is. What would have happened if Buffy hadn't figured out she could sacrifice herself? Would she have thrown Dawn in the portal to save the world?"

Spike stared at him. "She's a bloody hero, but they couldn't expect her to..."

"And that's what she said that night. That she would do whatever she had to to protect Dawn, isn't it?"

Spike nodded softly. "Said the last thing Dawn would see was Buffy protecting her, but...

Lorne interrupted him. "And that's why Buffy told you that she depended on you to protect Dawn. Because if it came down to it, you would have stood by Buffy’s side, protecting Dawn while the world ended around you, if that was the way Buffy wanted it to be." He looked directly into Spike's eyes. "Because Buffy knew the last thing she would've seen was you protecting her."

"Bloody right," Spike said softly, his voice a little raspy. "I would've done anything she wanted." He looked away from Lorne's intense gaze, and shook his head. "How did I let it all go so wrong? When did I become so bloody selfish again?"

Lorne sighed. "Sometimes things happen, Spike. We can't always make the right choice. It's not in our nature. And you know it's not in yours. That's why you're here. That's why you want to do this. So you won't make so many more wrong choices." His gaze moved to Angel. "I think it's time you explain to Angel what you intend to do."

Spike looked at his dark-haired rival, not expecting to see the surprise in his brown eyes. Somehow he knew that Angel believed in his love for Buffy, and he had Lorne to thank for that. Maybe later. Right now he had something else he had to do. "Angel," Spike began solemnly, "there's a small problem with the spell to fix the curse..."

TBC

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