Willow woke after a few hours without so much as a headache. The spell she had used to automatically replenish her blood was one that she and Giles had carefully researched together in the summer before she and Buffy started college. After Buffy had nearly killed herself from using her potent slayer?s blood to banish the poison from Angel?s system, Willow and Giles had agreed that they needed to find something that would help them replenish their blood quickly. When you live on the Hellmouth, you can never be too safe or too careful. And speaking of careful and safe, Willow?s first action when she awoke was to check on Spike. She let out a tiny sigh of relief at the sight of him sprawled out over the bed, sleeping peacefully. The temptation to slide into bed next to him and go back to sleep was almost overwhelming, but Willow fought against it. Before she could sleep again, there were several things that she needed to do. She headed straight to the phone and began her phone calls.

The call to the receptionist desk came first. She needed to make sure that it was alright for them to stay in their room for an extra day. It was nearly dawn and Willow knew there was no way they could get back to Sunnydale before sunrise. Normally, Spike could just crouch down in the backseat of the car, but Willow didn?t want him to have to do that while he was still healing. Best to stay put, for the time being. Of course, that was only possible if the hotel would let them stay an extra night. Check-out for the hotel guests was scheduled for noon, and the last thing Willow wanted was for Spike and herself to be kicked out into the nice, sunny street. Once the hotel confirmed that the extra night?s stay wouldn?t be a problem, she dialed the next number.

?Hello?? a grumpy, sleep-muffled voice muttered when the phone was finally answered, after several rings.

Giles voice immediately grew alert and anxious. ?Willow, are you alright? Where are you calling from? Is something wrong??

Giles? earnest concern nearly brought Willow to tears. a sarcastic voice questioned in her head. She seated herself heavily on the couch, bracing herself to begin her explanation, and winced when her hand brushed over something crusty dried onto one of the couch cushions. Her eyes dropped to the spot and she winced when she saw the source of the stain. Blood. Spike?s blood. She hadn?t been too concerned with protecting the furniture when she had led Spike to the couch, hours before, and his blood had dried onto it, staining the upholstery in several places.

She trailed her fingers across one of the bloodstains. she thought to herself. No matter how hard she tried to force her mind onto other thoughts, she just couldn?t seem to stop the words from running over and over in her head. He had nearly died. The permanent kind of dead. The no more pillow fights, no more hot chocolate, no more movies or Chinese food or swing dancing or compliments or cooking kind of dead. The kind of dead that made her feel sick and dizzy and caused her throat to close up just from thinking about it. She couldn?t bear the thought of Spike being really, truly, for ever after dead.

No, that wasn?t completely accurate. After all, she had loved him for weeks, now. He had firmly entrenched himself in the role of her best friend. But this was something more than that. She didn?t just love him. She was *in* love with him. It was pointless to deny it. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how surely she was setting herself up to get her heart broken, she was in love with Spike. It was awful, and wonderful, and terrifying and liberating and oddly inevitable, all at once.

She had realized it just that night. Since it was their last night in the city, Spike had insisted that they go back to Rick?s club for one more round of dinner and drinks. Willow had eagerly agreed. They had danced and talked and laughed for hours, just as they had their first night in the city. The only difference was that this time, Spike was very careful to pay attention so that he would realize when the singer announced her closing set for the night. Spike had had a whispered five minute conversation with the musicians when they had first walked into the restaurant, which appeared to end with Spike discreetly slipping some folded bills into the piano player?s pocket. The results of that conference were obvious when the singer closed her final set with the same Dinah Shore song that they had danced to the first time. Willow looked up at the opening bars of the music and then turned to Spike who, with a wide grin on his face, asked her to dance. She settled herself in his arms and fell in love with him.

She hadn?t wanted to fall in love with him. Honestly, she had fought against it as hard as she could. After working so hard to convince her friends (and herself) that she was totally and completely ?gay now,? she had been genuinely bewildered to discover that a man could evoke such feelings in her. It wasn?t supposed to be like that. It *definitely* wasn?t supposed to be like that with a man who was desperately in love with another woman, who just happened to be her best friend. Besides, she knew that Spike was just a temporary fixture in her life and that falling in love with him would condemn her to another broken heart when he left her behind.

Still, she just couldn?t help herself. It was simply impossible to worry about future unhappiness when Spike in the here-and-now made her so unbelievably happy. When he laughed with her and spent time with her and took her all the way to Los Angeles just so he could take a few days to spoil her and spend money on her and make her silly wishes come true, she just couldn?t force herself to associate the thought of Spike with any kind of pain. Spike was the most wonderful thing that had happened to her in a very long time, and the longer she fought against loving him, the more she realized she was fighting a losing battle. The dance with him that night had been the final straw.

Truthfully, it was almost anti-climactic. There weren?t fireworks or explosions. The people around them did not freeze in realization, or stop and stare. Willow, herself, didn?t scream, or gasp, or even sigh. She fell in love without missing so much as a single step of the dance. Willow closed her eyes and reveled in the warm, sweet music, warm, soft lighting, and warm, certain realization that wrapped itself around her. She loved him. It was as simple as that. She stood on that dance floor, suddenly fully aware of the dress against her skin that he had bought her, the necklace he had designed to protect her, the club to which he had brought her just to please her and, most of all, the strong arms wrapped around her that always made her feel so safe, and realized that there was no place on earth that she would rather be.

She didn?t care that he didn?t love her back. She didn?t care that he?d break her heart. All she knew was that she was no longer capable of loving him with anything less than everything she had. If that meant that she would be risking pain in the future, then so be it. She would willingly put her happiness, her life, her heart and her very soul on the line for him.

It was easy being in love with Spike when she was wrapped in his arms in a dance club in an alternate dimension where there was nothing to hurt her and no one there but herself, the man she loved, a weary nightclub singer, the club owner, and various assorted members of the wait staff. It seemed so simple and obvious then. It was just as simple and just as obvious but considerably more painful in a hotel room with a knife in her hand slashing into her wrist, knowing that she?d willing give every drop of blood she possessed to save the person she loved. She knew it would be harder in Sunnydale. The Hellmouth spawned complications in every form. Most particularly a small, blonde-haired form named Buffy who would probably send Willow to an exorcist for depossession ritual if she admitted to falling in love with Spike. Going back to Sunnydale would make things messy. It always did. Just hearing Giles? voice drove that home.

?I?m fine, Giles,? Willow replied, her voice breaking slightly. ?There?s nothing wrong with me.? She forced herself to take a deep breath. ?But Spike had some problems, and we?re going to have to stay here another day.?

?He got mugged,? Willow explained, after taking a few deep breaths. ?Humans. They beat him up pretty badly. He?ll be alright, but he?s not up to traveling today. By sunset, he?ll probably be feeling more himself. We?ll head back then.?

?Very well, then,? Giles answered. ?As long as you?re sure you?re alright.? They chatted a few minutes longer about her vacation before Willow started subtly hinting that she wanted to get some more sleep. Giles suddenly became aware of the still-ridiculously-early hour, and concluded the conversation. With a sigh of relief, Willow pulled out the yellow pages from a table near the couch. There was only one last thing that she needed to do before she could go back to sleep, herself.

The first three butchers that she called, asking if they would bring her a delivery of blood to the hotel, hung up on her. Not surprisingly, they assumed it was a prank call. The fourth butcher was either more trusting, or more experienced in what goes bump in the night, because he did nothing but quote a price and ask when she wanted it delivered. Twenty minutes later, she stored the fresh cow?s blood in the mini-fridge and put a ?do not disturb? sign on the door. The last thing she wanted was for that interfering maid to come in to clean and throw out the blood again. With that final thing settled, Willow yanked open her suitcase, rummaging around until she found her pajamas. She changed into them quickly, and then started to head to her bedroom.

Spike thought to himself, frowning as he watched her from across the Magic Box. Ever since they had returned from Los Angeles, nearly two weeks ago, there always seemed to be something on her mind. He caught a look on her face sometimes, when she thought no one would notice, a look of sad resignment that frustrated and infuriated him. Obviously, something had happened to upset his Red, and he wanted to do something about it. He wanted to find the idiot who had upset her and tear out the bastard?s spleen, or at the very least, hire someone to do it for him in a particularly slow and painful manner.

The glitch, of course, was that Spike had no idea what had happened. And for a girl who was appallingly bad at keeping secrets, Willow was being surprisingly closed-mouthed about it. No matter how cleverly or persistently or even downright annoyingly Spike questioned her, she could not be tricked or cajoled into admitting a thing. She always insisted that she was fine, that nothing was the matter, and that nothing had changed. It was a lie, of course, and they both knew it, but Willow stuck stubbornly to her story. In fact, she concentrated so hard on not admitting that anything was wrong, and in trying to put up a strong front of being ?just fine? that Spike was the only one who realized that something was bothering her.

The only visible alteration in her behavior was that she started searching constantly for a way to remove or deactivate Spike?s chip. It seemed as if she spent every single spare moment that she had looking for a solution. She was rarely seen without a book in her lap of witchcraft, or computer technology. The gang as a whole had been puzzled by her new obsession. They knew that she had given her word that she would get rid of Spike?s chip once he got rid of Glory, but they hadn?t expected her to work so hard on it. They had all, Spike included, just assumed that she?d wait till summer. The long, sunny days and hot weather usually drove most demons out of Sunnydale, so summers were always slow on the slayage front. With fewer demons to research and no classes to study for, summer seemed the perfect time for Willow to concentrate on keeping her promise to Spike. After all, Spike had dealt with the chip for over a year. Surely, dealing with it a little longer wouldn?t make a difference.

Spike tried to tell himself that he was happy she was working on the solution. After all, getting rid of that blasted chip had been his most fervent wish every single day since it had first been implanted. He should be glad that Willow was working on a way to get rid of it. Except, he wasn?t. It was strange. He didn?t like this new obsession of hers with finding the solution right away. What was the rush? She even skimmed through the damned books when she watched TV with him, which annoyed the hell out of him. He quickly found dozens of effective ways to distract her from her books. He didn?t like it when she paid more attention to them than she did to him.

Gradually, Spike realized that he was a little hurt at how hard she was working to find a solution. Did she want to get rid of him? Was she that eager to have him out of her life? She didn?t *seem* to want him to leave. She spent just as much time with him as she had before, watching TV with him and spending hours scouting through Blockbusters, working their way through all the ?classic? movies that she said he just *had* to see. She still teased him and told him stories and listened to his stories and they still cleaned the house together, stopping at intervals to dance to the music on the radio. She was developing into a very good dancer. Spike would occasionally bring up the idea of returning to L.A. and going to Rick?s again, or maybe trying a new place next time. Rick?s had the ambiance and the history, but West Coast Swing was very popular, and there were clubs for it all over California. They could go anywhere they wanted. Willow merely smiled in response, and gave no other reply.

If anything, they were spending more time together than they had before. Part of the reason for this was that she had convinced him to teach her how to cook. It was actually during that conversation that Spike finally reached his breaking point. He remembered it clearly: he had announced that he was going to make her lasagna for dinner, and she had insisted that she wanted to learn how.

?Come on, Spike,? Willow had begged, looking up at him with those big eyes and trying to hide her grin so that she could look sufficiently pleading. ?Show me how to make it for myself? Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar on top??

?You could make it pretty please with blood on top and it wouldn?t make a difference, pet,? Spike had replied. ?There?s no need for you to learn how to make it. That?s what I?m here for. I do the cooking. That was the deal.?

Willow pouted, hoping that that would break his resolve. Really, he was impossibly stubborn when it came to ?pulling his share? in the household chores. ?Well, when I get rid of that chip and you leave, I?m going to have to go back to just sandwiches and cereal because they?re all I know how to prepare, and it will be all your fault, you know!?

Silence was the only response. After a moment, Willow looked up. All traces of amusement had disappeared from Spike?s face. Willow?s expression immediately went from teasingly pouting to genuinely concerned.

?You never used to talk about it,? he replied softly. In response to Willow?s confused expression, he elaborated. ?Getting rid of the chip. You never used to talk about it. But now you bring it up all the time. You?re always talking about when the chip comes out. You have computer books and spell books lying all around the house.?

Instead of getting rid of Willow?s confusion, Spike?s explanation only increased it. ?But I thought that that was what you wanted,? she said. ?I promised you I?d get that chip out for you if you held up your end of the bargain, so now I?m just trying to hold up mine.?

?Do you want me to leave?? Spike asked, his voice so soft it was barely audible as he studiously avoided eye contact. ?Is that why you want to get rid of the chip right away? Do you not want me around anymore??

Whatever reply he had anticipated, he certainly didn?t expect the one that he got. Willow was in his arms in less than a second, wrapping herself around him and holding him desperately close. ?Never, *ever* think that,? she whispered fiercely in his ear. ?You?re my best friend, Spike, and the day will *never* come when I want to be rid of you.? She pulled away slightly, still holding him tightly but tilting her head back so she could see his face. ?You believe me, don?t you? Don?t you? Spike, please tell me you believe me. I couldn?t stand it if you thought that I wanted to be rid of you.?

Spike smiled a bit at the obvious sincerity in her voice and wrapped his arms around her, in turn, settling her in his arms and pulling her head back down to lay on his shoulder. He rested his cheek on top of her head and rocked her gently. ?Alright, Red. Alright. I believe you.? She responded by cuddling closer, nuzzling his neck.

?But if you want me to stick around,? he continued, ?then what?s with the rush on getting rid of the chip??

?I just want you to be happy,? she murmured, her lips tickling against his ear. ?More than anything in the world, I want you to be happy.? It wasn?t until he felt the wet warmth soak through the fabric of his shirt that he realized she was crying.

Truth be told, Willow was scared. Ever since L.A., it seemed like her bond to Spike had grown stronger. Her awareness of him was fine-tuned, now. She sensed not only his presence, but his emotions and sometimes she even picked up on traces of his thoughts. She assumed that she was simply more aware of him now that she had fallen in love with him. Her increased perceptions didn?t bother her, but her increased dependence on them *did*. She was starting to like being bonded to him far too much. She was starting to depend on the warm fuzzies she got from being near him, and the comforting hum of his thoughts and feelings in the back of her head. She was falling more and more in love with him with every hour of every day that passed, and it scared her.

Never in her life had Willow broken her word. Her late grandmother, who she had adored, has raised her to believe that a promise was a sacred thing. The thought of breaking her word to someone that she cared about, someone that she loved, absolutely horrified her. Willow had never even considered going back on a promise. Until now. She had promised Spike that if he did the ritual and defeated Glory, she would release him from his chip. And now she wanted to break her promise. She wanted him to keep the chip so that he would stay in Sunnydale forever, near her. The fantasy of Spike staying with her kept her up nights, thinking about what it would be like to have Spike in her life indefinitely. But Willow combated her selfish thoughts the only way she could think of. She devoted all her spare time and energy to finding a way to free Spike. She *had* to free him, as soon as possible, so that she wouldn?t give in to the temptation to keep him forever.

She hadn?t realized how much she was bringing it up in conversation. In an attempt to force herself to get used to the idea of Spike leaving, she mentioned it all the time: constantly talking about what would happen when she finally managed to get rid of the chip. Spike, of course, had drawn the dead-wrong conclusions. That day in the kitchen as Willow buried her face in Spike?s shoulder, she wondered what would happen if she told him the truth. How would he react if she admitted that she was working so hard to get rid of his chip because she was so in love with him and wanted to keep him so badly, she was afraid that if she didn?t release him soon, she never would? No, she couldn?t tell him that. So she told him the only truth that she was willing for him to hear. She was doing it because nothing mattered more to her than his happiness. Getting rid of the chip would make him happy, so getting rid of the chip is what she would do. Her own sick despair at the prospect of her life without him didn?t matter, even though just the thought of it made her start to cry.

Spike had brushed away her tears with incredible gentleness. ?Here now, no more of this,? he said lightly. ?We have lasagna to make.?

Spike sighed in mock annoyance. ?Yes, it would appear that *we* do. Now get an apron and dry your eyes.?

?Yes, Spike!? Willow replied excitedly, bouncing across the kitchen to grab an apron.

?And don?t ever let me hear you talk about living on cereal and sandwiches again, is that clear?? Spike asked, attempting to sound stern.

Willow rolled her eyes as she walked back over to him, her hair falling into her face as she fastened the apron around her waist. ?Yes, Spike.?

?My Red deserves better than that,? he said, smiling at her as he tucked a strand of soft red hair back behind her ear.

Willow smiled back and nuzzled into his hand, but he saw a flash of that newly familiar resigned sadness in her eyes as she replied. ?Yes, Spike.?

That had been three days ago. Spike growled softly at the memory as he stared at Willow, seated next to Dawn across the room from him. He watched her smile at the girl as she finally caught on to the math concept Willow had been carefully explaining and thought again how very nice it would be to slowly dismember whoever had put that trace of sadness into her smile. As long as he imagined the possibility that it could have been a demon, his chip didn?t fire off. Carefully concentrating on the possible demon who had hurt his Red, he settled himself into some lovely blood-filled thoughts and wondered how he could find out who it was.

Meanwhile, in a detective agency in Los Angeles, a brunette seer?s hand jerked across the table, knocking over her bottle of nail polish, as a vision hit her hard and fast. Five minutes later, after a halting explanation of what she had seen, punctuated with requests for aspirin and queries as to whether or not she could be reimbursed for her nail polish as a business expense (after all, she wouldn?t have knocked it over if it hadn?t been for that stupid vision, would she?) one of her co-workers, with a grim expression on his face, picked up the phone and dialed a number he had obviously memorized. A perky female voice answered on the other end.

After Anya announced loudly to the entire gang that Angel was on the line and wanted to speak to Giles, the room practically exploded in questions and exclamations ranging from ?Damn, aren?t we ever going to be rid of him?? (Xander) to ?Are you sure he doesn?t want to talk to me?? (Buffy) to ?Miss? Miss! Do you think you could ring me up now?? (Random Customer) Anya immediately lost all interest in Angel and began ringing up the customer, but the rest of the gang was not so easily distracted. Claiming that the phone in his office had better sound quality, Giles ducked away as quickly as he could, pointedly ignoring their questions.

Giles? voice sounded worried, and rightfully so. The vampire and the watcher had kept in touch for the past two years in a superficial manner, just checking in on each other every couple of months, but the phone calls were always from Giles to Angel. Angel never called the Magic Box or Giles? apartment. In the beginning, it was because he didn?t want Buffy to pick up the phone and realize that he was checking on her. He was afraid that she would be angry. Later, it was because he didn?t want Buffy to pick up the phone and stir up troubling feelings again. He had started to move on from his post-Sunnydale depression, and catching up with his former love was not something he felt any inclination to do.

More recently, he avoided any situation where Buffy might answer the phone because he didn?t want her to draw any conclusions from his phone call. He had finally managed to move on, and form a life with work and friends and purpose to his days. It wasn?t just that Buffy was eclipsed as the center of his world; she was, in fact, removed from it entirely. She would never cease to be an important part of his past, but she just wasn?t part of his present anymore. Therefore, although he had the number to the Magic Box memorized in case of an emergency, he had never used it.

?It?s serious, Giles. Cordelia had a vision.? Angel went on to explain in greater detail. There was a clan of vampires that had been terrorizing segments of L.A. for quite a few years. They had established themselves long before Angel arrived in the area, and had not bothered to put any kind of rein on themselves even after his arrival. Angel had tried to track them down numerous times, but they were crafty and well-organized, and had always managed to avoid detection. Recently, Angel had gotten a tip about their location, and was planning a raid to take them out. Fortunately for his sake, Cordelia had a vision before he could go.

?Based on reports, I thought there were only twenty to thirty of them,? Angel stated. ?That?s a bit much for Gunn, Wes and I to handle on our own, but I figured we could count on some help from Gunn?s old gang and take care of the problem. But it turns out they?re more discreet than we realized. Cordelia?s vision showed their numbers to be closer to a hundred. Even with Gunn?s gang we couldn?t handle that many. Cordelia said that in her vision, it appeared to be a close fight, even with extra reinforcements. I don?t think we could pull it off without every person that was fighting in her vision.?

?And who exactly did she see in her vision?? Giles asked, catching on. Obviously, someone from Sunnydale had been in the vision, and Angel felt awkward about asking them to come to L.A. to fight with them.

?Buffy,? Angel answered, and Giles nodded to himself in comprehension. Yes, that explained Angel?s hesitation in answering. ?And Spike,? Angel continued, causing Giles? jaw to drop in shock.

?Cordelia was positive when she gave her description. She says that in her vision, she clearly saw their faces. It?s Buffy and Spike. We need both of them here as soon as possible. It will take us at least a day to prepare for a fight on that scale, and I want to get this done with as soon as I can. This nest has been a problem for far too long. So can you spare them??

?Well, I suppose? I mean, that is to say? Whether or not we can *spare* them is not really? Rather, we have finished with our resident problem for the time being but? Angel, I?m going to have to call you back.?

Giles hung up the phone and mentally debated the wisdom of having a shot of scotch before going back out into the shop. With a reluctant sigh, he decided against it. Convincing Buffy to go to L.A. with Spike would be hard enough stone cold sober. He shuddered at the thought of what it would be like it he were drunk.

The questions started as soon as he exited the office. Giles didn?t even bother listening to them. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes and patiently waited for silence. After a few minutes, it was quiet again.

?Angel?s seer had a vision of Angel and his associates engaged in a raid on a nest of vampires,? he announced, carefully avoiding mentioning that Cordelia was the seer. He had a feeling that that wouldn?t go over terribly well. Buffy would, of course, find out when she reached L.A., but there was no reason why Giles had to be the one to tell her. Bad enough that he had to tell her that he was sending her to L.A. with Spike. ?According to Angel, the seer described it as a very close fight, and Angel believes that he will need every person that the seer saw in the vision on his side in order to win.?

?Does he need us to help him find someone?? Buffy asked, still uncertain why Angel had called? and why he hadn?t wanted to talk to her.

?I?m afraid Willow is correct,? Giles replied. ?In the vision of Angel?s seer, there were, actually, two members of our group who were joined in the fight.?

?Well, me, obviously,? Buffy stated. Despite her best attempts to sound nonchalant and business-like, her voice inevitably betrayed some of her eagerness. It had been nearly a year since the last time she had seen Angel. And that last time she had seen him, it? it hadn?t gone well. It had started in L.A. with Faith and assassins and council members trying to shoot them on rooftops and Angel saying that Buffy didn?t have the right to tell him how to lead his life, and then it came back to Sunnydale with the Initiative making a mess of everything and nasty rumors splitting up the group (and hey, that was something else that was Spike?s fault. Buffy mentally reminded herself to berate him more for that) and Angel beating the crap out of Riley. Repeatedly. Yeah. Not good. Great, big, heaping quantities of not good.

But so many things had changed since then. She definitely wasn?t the same girl she had been just one year before. When Buffy had gone to see Angel in L.A., she had enjoyed telling him off, letting him know that she had moved on from him and that she had someone new in her life who made her happy. It had seemed true at the time. She had honestly thought at one point that she and Riley might have that forever after, white house, picket fence kind of happy ending that she had always secretly craved. Angel had left her so that she could find that kind of happiness, and she had taken a twisted pleasure in rubbing it in his face that she had succeeded. She hadn?t realized what it would be like, having a boyfriend who wasn?t as strong as her, wasn?t as capable as her, wasn?t as dark as her. She hadn?t realized that the nice, All-American, sweetly old-fashioned boy would start to bore her after a while; that he would be unable to hold all of her interest or all of her heart. She hadn?t realized that she would spend all of her time with Riley silently measuring him up against Angel in all the aspects of their relationship, and that he would constantly come up short in the balance. She hadn?t realized that things with Riley were pretty much doomed to failure.

And now Riley wasn?t an issue any more. He had made it very clear that he never intended to be an issue in her life again. And since he had left, the only things that Buffy had had in the way of romance were Spike?s disturbing attentions and the beginnings of a flirtation with Ben-who-turned-out-to-be-Glory. Buffy was starting to feel a little lonely. Sure, she had her family, and her friends, but she wasn?t used to going so long without a boyfriend to make her feel special. She missed feeling desirable. She missed walking into a room and seeing some man?s eyes light up, knowing he had been watching the door for her, that she was the only one he wanted to see.

Angel had always given her that. Even when they weren?t together, even when he was soulless, Angel always made her feel vitally important. Willow had said it herself during that slumber party night after her fish had been killed: Angel and Angelus were completely different, but in either form, she was still the only thing he thought about. In the fall-out of Riley leaving and angst with Dawn and dealing with Glory (not to mention Ben) Buffy craved the certainty of Angel?s love and the way it made her feel. She missed knowing that she was the most important thing in his world: the thing he cherished and prized and desired above anything else. She wanted someone to make her feel beautiful and desirable again. She wanted to look into Angel?s eyes and see the warmth and passion that they always held when they looked at her. Yes, this trip to L.A. was exactly what she needed. She and Angel would be fighting side by side, just like the old days. She could barely restrain a grin.

And as quickly as that, the urge to grin disappeared. For a moment, there was dead silence in the room. Buffy looked around, waiting for someone to take up her cause and say that she couldn?t possibly go to L.A. with Spike. No one did. Willow, for some insane reason, actually liked Spike and would never say a word against him. Anya and Spike had formed some kind of weird We Were Mean And Scary For A Long Time, And Therefore Will Watch One Another?s Backs Now That We?re Weak And Helpless agreement. Giles and Spike had a similar We?re Both British In This Strange, Foreign Land understanding. And Xander, once her constant support in all things Spike-bashing, had recently become almost civil to the blonde vamp. Something about the night of the fight against Glory that no one ever wanted to talk about with her had caused Xander to lose a lot of his hostility toward the vampire. Buffy was the only one left who still really hated Spike.

Buffy did not allow this in any way to influence her opinion. Her reasons for hating Spike were deeply rooted in bad memories and her own insecurities, and she saw no reason to even try to overcome them. Instead of wondering why she was the only one who hated Spike, she was far more likely to wonder when everyone else was going to come to their senses and return to hating Spike with her. They didn?t, of course, but she never stopped expecting it. As a result, when Buffy looked around, waiting for someone else to protest, she was only met with silence. Then a customer exited the shop, causing the bell over the door to ring. As if that was a signal, Buffy?s screaming began.

?Buffy, you must consider?? Giles tried to explain, but Buffy obviously wasn?t interested in listening.

?That seer will just have to check the crystal ball again because there?s no way in HELL that I?m going to??

?Buffy, *enough*!? Giles shouted, losing his temper at last. He knew that Buffy despised Spike; she had, after all, taken every opportunity to make that perfectly clear. Her constant harping on his faults grew annoying after a while, but Giles, along with everyone else, had grown rather accustomed to just blocking it out. Buffy?s personal feelings were her own concern. Giles was too essentially British to interfere in such matters. However, slaying was Buffy?s sacred duty. When she allowed her grudge against Spike to make her turn her back on her obligations, Giles lost what remained of his patience. With the Ripper expression clearly evident on his face, he spoke again in a low, strained tone that even Buffy knew better than to interrupt.

?You have exactly two options. Either you can go home, pack an overnight bag, and come back here in one hour to leave for L.A. with Spike, or you can get on the phone right now and tell Angel that you aren?t coming to L.A. because you?re too busy pouting like an ill-mannered child. Those are the only two options. If you have any complaints to make about traveling with Spike, keep them to yourself. He?s no more of a danger to you physically than an overcooked scone.? (Spike showed signs of protest at this remark, but Willow placed a hand firmly over his mouth to keep him from responding. She had seen Giles get like this before, and knew the foolishness of drawing his attention at such a moment.) ?The very worst he could do to you is annoy you to death, and if you can?t handle a two hour drive with an aggravating vampire, then it?s high time you learned. I do not want to hear any excuses or complaints. Have I made myself clear??

Buffy was ready to scream. *Five minutes* in a car alone with Spike was more time than she had ever wanted to spend in an enclosed space with him. After two hours, she was nearly ready to pull her hair out. The only thing that stopped her from doing it was the realization that she looked bad enough already. She?d been fresh from patrol when the call had come from Angel, saying that she needed to come to L.A., and Giles had only given her an hour to get ready. By the time she threw some things into a suitcase and got the keys to the car from her mom, she barely had enough time to shower and throw some clean clothes on before she had to head out the door. There simply wasn?t time for the hour-long hair and make-up ritual she used to do every time she expected to see Angel.

She wasn?t about to let Spike drive her mom?s car, but since she was the driver and not the passenger, she didn?t have the chance to fix up her appearance while she was in the car. Initially, she had thought that she might stop at a gas station just outside of L.A. and clean herself up a bit in the ladies room, but by that point in the drive she was so annoyed with Spike that she couldn?t bear the thought of the trip taking even a single moment longer than it absolutely had to. So when they finally arrived at the offices of Angel Investigations, she was, to put it mildly, not looking her best. And the conversation that she heard when she reached the entranceway wasn?t exactly designed to put roses in her cheeks or stars in her eyes.

She stood in the doorway with her mouth hanging unattractively open while Spike smirked, Wesley blushed, Angel shuffled his feet, Gunn concentrated on not laughing out loud, and Cordelia serenely painted her fingernails. For a moment, the room was silent.

Spike, who had rather enjoyed the cheerleader?s diatribe (he loved Buffy, but that didn?t mean that he thought she was perfect. He, more than most, knew of her flaws) had nothing to be embarrassed about, so he was the first to recover.

?Three times a week,? she answered, ?when I?m not busy beating up on demons or getting migraine-inducing visions. Thanks for noticing.?

Their exchange gave Angel a chance to pull himself together, so he was the next to speak.

?Wyndam-Price?? Spike asked as he seated himself on a couch. ?I ate a watcher with that name back in the seventies.?

?Yes,? Wesley confirmed, ?my uncle.? A slight smile sliding over his lips. ?I?d always hoped I?d have a chance to thank you for that.? With that, the ice was broken. Gunn stepped forward and offered his hand.

?Call me Gunn,? he stated with an easy grin. With a firm handshake, they sized each other up, and decided that they approved of what they saw. Both Spike and Gunn had instinctive respect for good fighters. Gunn looked over at Buffy and wondered whether or not he should introduce himself to her, as well. She was still standing in the doorway with her mouth hanging open in shock. He decided to wait.

?So, cheerleader, you mentioned something about migraine-inducing visions? I?m guessing that that means that you?re our seer??

?And why?s that?? Gunn asked with a hint of a dangerous edge in his voice. He didn?t appreciate the slayer?s tone.

?Are you *joking*?? Buffy asked, her voice getting shriller. Deep down, she knew she was being unreasonable. Yes, there had been a time (known as sophomore year) when the idea of Cordelia being an asset to the fight against the darkness would have been laughable, but it had been a long time since then. Cordelia had fought the good fight in Sunnydale for two years, and apparently had kept on fighting even after she hit L.A. Even though Buffy and Cordelia had never been exactly friends, there was no denying that Cordelia deserved respect for the choices she had made. But Buffy just couldn?t seem to stop herself. She felt tired, and grungy, and aggravated at the whole of the world. She had been yelled at by Giles, stuck in a car with Spike for hours, and then had walked in to Angel Investigations just in time to be insulted. She wasn?t in the mood to be fair.

?This is *Cordelia* we?re talking about,? Buffy continued. ?Since when has she cared about anything more than her clothes, or her hair or her image??

?Buffy, stop,? Angel said softly. ?I know you?re tired, and you?re talking without thinking, but even you know that you don?t mean that.? He sent a tentative, apologetic look in Cordelia?s direction. The brunette, still focused on her nails, didn?t catch it, but Buffy did. That was enough to send Buffy over the edge.

As with most women, the last thing Buffy wanted when she was behaving unreasonably was to be told that she was behaving unreasonably. Her instinctive reaction was to get defensive. Added onto that was the fact that Cordelia had just berated her in front of the entire L.A. team, Angel included, and Angel?s response, instead of defending her, was to support Cordelia and defend *her* when Buffy questioned her abilities, and the result was a Buffy who was more than a little unstable.

?Based off of some vision that Cordelia had! How am I supposed to know if that vision was accurate or not? I mean, consider the source!?

?And what?s your role in all this?? Buffy countered, turning on him. ?Great mighty demon hunter who passes out whenever there?s a sign of danger and squeals like a girl; what?s your position here??

Gunn?s grip on his axe tightened. Yeah, he definitely didn?t like this girl. Wesley might come off as a little pompous at first, but the man was no coward. He worked hard to protect people; he had even taken a bullet for Gunn a few weeks earlier. That had definitely earned Gunn?s respect. And Cordelia, for all that she might look like stick-figure Barbie, had a good heart and was an amazingly caring person, once you got to know her. Gunn had only known her for a few months and he had already realized that. The slayer, although she had obviously known Cordelia for years, had apparently never bothered to try. He opened his mouth to give Buffy a piece of his mind, and quite possibly a piece of his fist, but Angel beat him to it.

?Wesley happens to be my boss,? Angel stated, trying to turn her focus back on to him. He didn?t want her lashing out at his friends like that.

?Your *boss*? Hell, no wonder you had to call me to get the job done! How could you ever get anything accomplished with him in charge??

?Excuse us for a moment,? Angel bit out through clenched teeth toward the rest of the group before grabbing hold of Buffy?s arm and dragging her into his office. Moments later, the door slammed, and raised voices could be heard on the other side.

?Where Peaches is concerned?? Spike replied, wincing as Buffy?s shrill voice pierced the air, even though the closed door. ?Pretty much.? He glanced at his watch. ?Once she gets going like this, she can go on for hours, and we probably should wait to talk about the vision until they?re done; so in the meantime, can someone point me to a phone??

?There?s one right over there,? Cordelia offered, pointing a perfectly painted fingernail to a phone on the receptionist desk.

There was a pause, and some raised eyebrows, but Wesley stepped in eventually, offering the phone in his office. With a nod of thanks, Spike stepped in and closed the door behind him. He wanted the L.A. gang to respect him. They weren?t in the habit of thinking of him as some sort of neutered puppy, and he wanted to keep it that way. The thought of them overhearing a phone conversation where he sounded warm and caring and (demon forbid) *gentle*, was unappealing. Lifting the receiver, he quickly dialed the familiar number. Through the walls, he could easily hear Angel continuing to argue with Buffy.

?None of my business if you decide to spend all your waking hours with the girl who spent most of high school trying to steal you away from me??

?Grow up Buffy, you?re not in high school anymore. Cordelia has changed a lot since then and I would have hoped that you would have, too.?

?So now you?re trying to say you didn?t like the way I was in high school? You damn well seemed to like it the night of my seventeenth birthday, or don?t you remember??

Spike focused on blocking them out. They weren?t the voices that he wanted to hear. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the phone, which rang only once before it was answered.

?Right,? Willow replied, and Spike could hear the smile in her voice. ?It?s all coming back to me now. Me college student. You evil vampire. I think I?ve got it.?

?Very good, Red. Knew those brains of yours would pull through in the end. So, picked up on the first ring? I guess that means you?ve been waiting anxiously by the phone??

?Yes, with bated breath. Literally! I?ve already passed out twice from holding my breath for too long. Lucky thing you didn?t wait five minutes longer or I might have been unconscious again.?

Spike laughed out loud, feeling the tension that had built up in him since the beginning of the car trip finally ease. Willow always made everything alright. He missed her so much already, and he?d only been gone for a few hours! How was he going to feel after a few days away from her? Spike settled himself in the desk chair and hoped he?d be able to leave L.A. before long. He wanted to go home to his Red.

(?There?s just no way to win with you, is there Buffy?? Angel?s frustrated voice rang out through the wall. ?When I show up in Sunnydale, you get furious with me, telling me that I?m no longer part of your life and that I should just stay gone and never try to talk to you again, but then you come running down here to L.A. to accuse me of keeping things from you. When the hell was I supposed to tell you? In our non-existent phone conversations? In my replies to all those newsy letters you never wrote me? In our visits that only ever happen in emergencies when you yell at me for ruining your life??)

?Kidding! Just kidding, mein fuhrer. I ate the left-over lemon chicken and rice, just like you told me to.?

?It didn?t taste the same without you stealing bits of it off my plate,? Willow confessed, her voice soft and wistful for a moment before she forced it to brighten. ?So what?s the situation there? Do you think you?ll have to stay for long??

?Hard to say. We haven?t even heard about the vision yet. Buffy?s been spending most of her time yelling at Peaches for not telling her that Cordelia was his seer.?

?Maybe not yet, but you want there to be, don?t you? I saw the way you looked at her. How could you??

?How could I *what*? You and I were over a long time ago, Buffy. If I chose to have Cordelia as part of my life, what business is it of yours??

?I have *not* been seeing Cordelia! She?s only just *forgiven* me after the mess with the whole Darla situation??

?With no signs of stopping. And since we can?t get started talking about the vision until they?re done, that means you have plenty of time of tell me all about everything you?ve done since I left.?

?Good, then that means it won?t take you more than two and a half hours to tell me all about it.? Willow laughed, and complied. When she was finished, Spike told her about the drive to L.A. and what had happened since he had arrived. By the time he was finished, the yelling had finally quieted from the other side of the wall.

Spike rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the burst of warmth he felt at her obvious concern. ?I promise, Red. I?ll talk to you tomorrow, alright??

?Miss you, too,? Willow answered, but it was too late. He?d already hung up. ?I love you,? she whispered to the dial tone before hanging up the receiver. She closed her eyes and rested her head against one of the couch pillows. Her head had been aching ever since Spike had left. She hadn?t bothered to mention it to anyone, figuring it was just a response to the stress she?d been feeling lately, added on top of her worry for Spike. Rising to her feet, she decided to head up to her room, hoping that her head would feel better after she got some sleep.

Section 66:

Spike thought to himself as he looked around at the other members of the A.I. team scattered around the office that morning. The thought was startling, but none the less true. He missed Willow. Sure, it was nice getting on with Angel again, the prom queen had a wicked sense of humor, Gunn was a mate, and even the watcher was tolerable once he got over his pompousness, but none of them could match his Red. It was the morning of his second day in L.A. He?d only been away from her for about forty hours, and he still could barely wait to see her again. He hadn?t known it was possible to miss a mere human being so very much.

?Hey watcher, mind if I use your phone?? Spike asked, rising to his feet.

?Hmm, what?? Wesley asked as he looked up from the book he was eagerly reading. ?Oh yes, by all means. Help yourself.?

Spike gave him a nod of thanks before ducking into the watcher?s office, closing the door behind him. An anticipatory smile lit up his face as he dialed the familiar number and listened to the phone start to ring. The smile melted into a disappointed frown as the answering machine picked up.

?Hey Red, hope you didn?t pass out from holding your breath, waiting for me to call,? Spike said after the recording ended. ?Just? thought I?d call and see what you were up to. If you get a chance, call me back. We?re planning to hit the lair tonight and it?s boring as a library around here while we wait. Talk to you soon.? Spike contemplated adding that he missed her, but figured that she already knew, so there was no reason to sound like a nancy-boy by saying it out loud. Gently, he hung up the phone, hoping that she would call him back soon.

?That was quick,? Cordelia commented as Spike reentered the office. ?Had she just gotten out of the shower or something??

?Nah, she wasn?t home.? Spike checked his watch, mentally kicking himself when he noted the time. Of course she wasn?t home. She had class. Feeling slightly cheered up at the knowledge of *why* she hadn?t been there to take his call, he settled himself back on a couch. She?d call him back when she got out of class. If she didn?t, he?d just have to call her again.

She didn?t call him back. So he called her again, a bit aggravated but not terribly surprised to discover that she still wasn?t home. He knew she didn?t much care for being home alone, and he figured that she had either hung around campus to get some studying done in the library, or had gone somewhere with her friends.

After the third unanswered call, he started to feel a bit nervous. She had to know he would call her at some point during the day, and it wasn?t like her not to at least call in to check her messages if she wasn?t going to be home. When he made the fourth call, well into the evening, and still received no answer, he honestly started to worry. He told himself he was overreacting, but he still picked up the phone again and dialed one more number. Giles should still be at the Magic Box, and he would be able to tell Spike that she was alright.

?Hello, you have reached the Magic Box,? Giles? prerecorded voice clicked in after four rings. ?We are currently closed. If you wish to leave a message, you may do so after the beep, and we will get back to you at the earliest available opportunity. Thank you, and have a pleasant day.?

?Busy signal?? Cordelia asked when Spike rejoined them.

?Answering machine,? he answered. ?It said they were closed, but that can?t be true. Giles never leaves this early.?

?Maybe they just decided to take the night off and close early,? Gunn suggested, looking up from the sparring session he was having with the members of his gang who had come to help.

?What if they?re in trouble?? Spike countered.

?Isn?t that kind of jumping to conclusions?? Cordelia questioned.

?Who?s jumping to conclusions?? Angel asked as he walked in from his office, catching the tail end of Cordelia?s comment.

?Spike is,? Cordelia answered. ?He can?t get a hold of anyone in Sunnydale, so he thinks they might be in trouble.?

?It isn?t jumping to conclusions to say that it?s not like Willow not to be there if she?s expecting a call, and that it?s really not like her not to call a bloke back after he leaves four messages on her machine,? Spike said stubbornly. ?She knows I worry,? he added, so softly that only Angel heard him.

Angel started to step toward Spike, hoping to comfort him, but was distracted by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

?What?s going on?? Buffy asked as she entered the room.

?Spike?s worried because he can?t get a hold of Willow, and when he called the Magic Box, no one was there,? Wesley answered.

?I?m sure it?s nothing to worry about, Spike,? Cordelia said soothingly.

?Yeah, I bet your Red?s gonna call you any minute now and let you know that things are just fine,? Gunn added.

?But what if they aren?t?? Spike ground out, his voice deliberately hard as he tried to hide how scared the thought made him that something might be happening to Willow. ?I can?t get a hold of anyone, and this is the Hellmouth we?re talking about. Anything could be happening there, and how would I know about it??

?If anything happened to Willow, I know Giles would call to let you know,? Angel interjected. He could easily pick up on the anxiety that was pouring off of Spike in waves and knew he had to get the vampire calmed down.

?And if that same something happened to Giles?? Spike asked, his fears mounting. The thought of the Scoobies incapacitated and unable to reach him, and Willow hurt, without him there to take care of her riled the man and the demon in him. Neither part of him could bear the thought of anything happening to her. Subconsciously, he started growling softly, too low for anyone but Angel to hear it.

?If anything happened to Giles then the hospital would call me and let me know,? Angel answered firmly, stepping over to Spike and placing a gentle hand on his arm. ?I?m listed as one of his emergency contacts.?

The growling didn?t stop and Spike didn?t respond to the gentle pressure of Angel?s hand on his arm, so Angel shifted his hand to Spike?s face, turning it so Spike was forced to look him in the eye. ?Relax,? Angel commanded in a soft voice. ?We?re going to be fighting soon and we need you to keep your focus. We?re counting on you, Spike. Please, just try to relax.?

Buffy had watching with mounting irritation as all of the A.I. gang hastened to comfort Spike. Ever since her arrival, they had barely given *her* the time of day, no matter what she said or did, but when *Spike* got upset, they fell all over themselves trying to make him feel better. It just wasn?t fair. Her irritation switched to anger when Angel joined in on the comforting. After all, Cordelia?s good opinion was never something Buffy had really cared about. Outside of a few mostly polite conversations, the girl annoyed her. Wesley was even worse. Gunn was too new of an acquaintance for Buffy to be too bothered by the thought that he didn?t like her. When the three of them made it obvious that they were willing to comfort Spike while they were barely willing to speak to her, she felt irritated and offended but when Angel got involved, any rational perspective Buffy might possess flew out of the window.

The past two days had been far too little time for Buffy to get used to the fact that Angel didn?t want to be near her anymore. No matter how many times he told her and no matter how many different ways he found to show her, Buffy still stubbornly refused to accept the truth. Every time she was away from him, Buffy managed to convince herself that next time it would be different: next time would be the time when whatever emotional walls Angel had constructed would come crashing down and he?d realize again that he loved her. With such high expectations surrounding every encounter, it was a very bitter pill for her to swallow every time she walked into a room where Angel was located and saw him deliberately place himself at a distance from her.

But for him to comfort *Spike* and not her was more than she could bear. The clear and evident proof that Angel was willing to talk to Spike, touch Spike, comfort Spike in a dozen different ways when he wouldn?t even *look* at her drove every rational thought out of her mind. All that mattered was for Angel to *stop* comforting Spike. She?d say whatever she had to say in order to make that happen.

?Geez, chill. Everyone in Sunnydale is fine.?

?How do you know?? Angel asked.

?Because I just talked to my mom. She said they?re all Bronzing it tonight. Even Dawn went with them. I guess Willow decided that going out with her friends was more fun than wasting time sitting around, waiting for you to call.?

Buffy watched with satisfaction as Spike?s face twisted slightly with pain at the thought that he had been forgotten while Willow went out with her friends. She, herself, had been hurting for the past two days and was more than bitter enough to take pleasure in the knowledge that someone else was hurting just as much. The expressions on his face were easy for her to read, since they were emotions she had been feeling since she had arrived in L.A.: hurt, bewilderment, surprised pain at the idea that you aren?t as important to the person you care about as you thought you were. Her mouth twisted into something resembling a smirk as she watched.

She did not feel so much as a twinge of guilt for the lie. It was only a *little* lie, after all. She *had* talked to her mom, and her mom had told her that the whole gang was thinking of going Bronzing and that Dawn was planning on tagging along. There had been no specific mention of whether or not Willow was planning on joining them, but it stood to reason that she would. So it wasn?t really a lie to say that her mom had told her those things, because she had. The only thing that she had just possibly fudged a little bit was when, precisely, the conversation had taken place. But did it really make a difference that the phone call had taken place the night before instead of that evening?

Buffy could think of no reason why the gang would change their plans, and if Willow was unreachable by phone, then she probably *was* out somewhere with the rest of the gang. Where else would she be? If anyone in Sunnydale was in trouble, the gang would have called L.A. so if Spike couldn?t reach Willow, it most likely meant that the redhead had found something better to do with her time. And after the way that Buffy had been made to feel ever since getting to L.A., she was damn well going to make Spike feel useless and despised if she possibly could. Turnabout was fair play.

?I guess without you around to brainwash her with the bond, she finally came to her senses and realized just how much of a waste of time you actually are,? Buffy taunted, driving the knife in with deliberate cruelty, and feeling a surge of pleasure as the pained look on Spike?s face darkened. she thought to herself.

?Buffy, that?s enough,? Angel stated, a warning tone clear in his voice. Buffy ignored it. This was the best she had felt all day, and she wasn?t going to give it up just because Angel told her to. Why the hell should she go out of her way to please Angel when he was so obviously determined not to be pleased with her?

?No Angel, I don?t think it is enough. After all, it?s important that Spike understand the situation so he can *move on*, don?t you think?? she replied bitterly, taking just as much pleasure in the look of pain on Spike?s face as she did in the look of annoyance on Angel?s face. It was nice, at last, to get under his skin.

?I said that?s *enough*!? Angel growled.

?But I?m just getting started!? Buffy replied, opening her mouth and taking in a big breath of air, ready to really let him have it. ?So to pick up where I left off, what the hell?? She was cut off, however, when all the lights in the room abruptly shut off. With the sharpness of her slayer vision, she could just make out the confused expressions on everyone?s faces as they stood in the dim combination of moonlight and streetlights that filtered in through the windows.

?If you really want to take this opportunity to rip him apart,? a silky voice stated from the shadows, ?I wouldn?t be one to stop you. But, if you don?t mind us asking,? the owner of the voice stepped into the semi-light, revealing fanged teeth, a ridged forehead, and about eighty five vampires behind him.

?Can we help??

End Section 66

Burn for Me W/S part 67/?

The fight started badly and quickly got worse. The A.I. team was severely outnumbered, and its members, with the exception of Angel, Spike, and Buffy, were cruelly hampered by the fact that there wasn?t quite enough light in the room for their human eyes to distinguish between friend and foe. For a very short moment, a strong burst of mingled adrenalin and panic ran through Spike as he realized just how heavily the odds were against them. Then he plunged into the battle. Odds had never really mattered to him before; he saw no reason to start caring about them now. He couldn?t stop the surge of panic that ran through him at the thought that this might be his last battle, but he wouldn?t let it stop him from fighting.

Unfortunately, the stronger Spike?s bursts of emotion, the more clearly they were transmitted through his forgotten bond connecting him to Willow. At the same moment that the rush of panic shot through Spike, a feverish redhead shot upright in a hospital bed in Sunnydale, yelling out Spike?s name.

?Willow!? her friends called out, exchanging worried glances over her head at the glazed look in her eyes. The doctors had told them that delirium was common with fevers as high as hers, but they had hoped? well, they had hoped for a lot of things. Willow thrashed around on the bed until she nearly ripped the IV out of her arm. She didn?t notice, busy fighting an opponent only she could see. Xander crawled on the bed, trying to flatten Willow under his body before she was able to do any serious damage to herself. Giles rushed over to help him hold her down.

?Should I call a nurse?? Joyce asked nervously. ?They might be able to give her something to calm her down.?

?Spike, no!? Willow screamed, oblivious to her friends surrounding her. ?Too much, too soon, too many, too many. You promised me you?d come home. Can?t break your promise. Can?t? please, please don?t. It?s too dark! It has teeth. Vampire teeth to rip him apart, nothing left. Ashes, ashes, ashes!?

?No,? Giles answered Joyce in a choked voice. ?If they hear the? manifestation of Willow?s delirium, we?d have to deal with the psychiatric ward.? Joyce flinched at the memory of Buffy in the psychiatric ward after her first encounter with vampires. They had strapped her to the bed, and kept out all visitors for fear that she was dangerous. No, they couldn?t let that happen to Willow. Reluctantly, Joyce seated herself back in the hard, plastic chair and tried not to wince at the moans of pain coming from the girl in the hospital bed.

?The darkness has teeth,? Willow murmured, shivering as if she were freezing even as her fever continued to climb, ?and it wants to bite him, rip him, tear him apart. It wants to hurt him, *please* don?t hurt him. Too much blood. No more blood!?

Dawn couldn?t take it anymore and burst into tears, running out of the room. After a momentary pause, Joyce and Anya went after her. Xander didn?t even notice them leave, focusing instead on leaning his weight onto Willow?s shoulder to hold her down, laying his head down next to hers on the pillow and whispering soothing nonsense to her, trying to calm her down while tears streamed down his face. Willow looked up and finally seemed to look at Xander instead of looking through him.

?They?re hurting him, Xan. Make them stop,? Willow whimpered.

?I wish I could, Wills,? Xander whispered softly, thinking of how he?d give anything to stop her hallucinations from hurting her. He had no way of knowing the hallucinations were real and that Spike truly was fighting the battle of a lifetime while Willow experienced it all, helpless and hurting, from the back of his mind. She couldn?t *see* what he was seeing, but she could *feel* every blow that he gave, or received, and every rush of pain, or desperation, or dread.

Meanwhile in L.A., Spike fought like the demon that he was, ripping into the opposing vampires. The fact that they were so overwhelmingly outnumbered had its advantages: the enemy vamps were getting in each others? way, and their lack of familiarity with the space made them easier targets. But for every vamp that he managed to dust, three more popped up, and he knew just how badly the odds were stacked against him. The seer was knocked out, as was one of Gunn?s boys. The watcher?s arm was visibly broken in at least one place. Buffy and Angel were uninjured and fighting with everything they had, but the sheer mass of the attack was slowing them down.

If the A.I. gang could only *see* what they were doing, they might stand half a chance? A spark flashed into Spike?s eye as an idea raced through his brain. Peaches would be furious with him when it was all over, but he hadn?t gotten Angel good and mad at him in over a year; he was due to have a bit of a row with the vamp.

?Fire,? Willow whispered, her eyes clenching shut. ?No, Spike, don?t. Make the fire go out.? Instead of following her commands, the fire burned high in Los Angeles as Spike pulled out his lighter and started turning his opponents into walking torches. It was dangerous as hell, but the A.I gang could finally see what they were doing, and this new advantage drove them into the battle with renewed energy.

Willow stopped struggling, but her eyes shut tight and she twisted herself into a fetal position, rocking herself back and forth as she felt the battle play itself out. She didn?t notice when Dawn, Anya and Joyce re-entered the room, not even when Anya came over to the bed and took hold of one of Willow?s hands in one hand and Xander?s hand in the other. All Willow could see, hear, and feel was Spike as he torched the lobby of the Hyperion and fought his way through the blaze.

The tide had turned in Los Angeles. The enemy?s oppressive numbers became a major disadvantage in the tight space, as there was little they could do to stop themselves from setting each other on fire. Angel?s team, with their superior knowledge of the space, followed Spike?s example and concentrated less on physically defeating their enemies and more on manipulating them into destroying each other. It was almost beautiful in a dear-God-this-could-kill-us-all kind of way.

The vampire leader who had been so confidently arrogant when he announced his presence in the hotel saw the writing on the wall and realized that he was about to lose. Determined that he would make his defeat as costly for the A.I. team as possible, he allowed himself to catch fire, and threw himself directly, deliberately, straight at Spike.

Willow let out a piercing scream, and then went limp. Everyone in the hospital room gasped and rushed forward, afraid that this was it for Willow. They all sighed in relief when they realized that she was still alive and still, barely, conscious. Leaning over her as they were, they all caught the words she uttered in the softest of whispers.

?Angel,? she murmured. ?Saved by an angel, and a blanket, and blood. No more fire. No more vampires. Safe. Safe.? She let out a contented sigh and opened her eyes. Xander was there, still beside her on the bed, only inches away with tears streaming down his face. Lucidity seemed to return to her and the vagueness disappeared from her eyes as they focused on him.

?Don?t cry, Xan, it?ll be alright,? she whispered. With great effort, she lifted her hand to brush away his tears. ?Angel put out the fire; Spike will be fine. And Angel will help him heal; I know he will. Even though I?m not there to heal him like before,? she glanced at her wrist and Xander?s eyes followed hers, noticing for the first time the faint scar from her actions in L.A. that even her best healing spells hadn?t been able to erase, ?he?ll be fine. Sire?s blood is better than witch?s blood, anyway. So don?t cry.? Smiling softly at him, she let her eyes drift shut, snuggling into the pillow as she fell asleep.

Exhausted as she was, she stirred but did not wake when Giles grabbed her wrist and turned it to the light so that he could see the scar. She slept on, not noticing the way the hand holding her wrist began to tremble, and unable to see how all the color drained from Giles? face as he finally put the pieces together.

?No,? Giles whispered. ?Please God, no.? In an instant, he rushed over to the phone on the bedside table. Ignoring everyone?s frantic questions, he rapidly dialed a number into the phone, then held the receiver to his ear with shaking hands. They all heard the annoying beeping sound that precedes the message saying that a line is out of service before Giles slammed the phone back down. Expecting that he would explain himself now, they were all shocked to see him grab his jacket off a chair and head for the door.

?I have to drive to L.A. right away,? he said determinedly. Everyone called out protests, but Giles ignored them until Xander physically grabbed hold of his arm and kept him from walking out the door.

?Giles, you don?t have the energy to go anywhere right now. None of us do, after the day we?ve had. You?ll get yourself killed if you try to drive to L.A.?

?Getting Spike here is the only way we can save Willow.? Everyone in the room froze.

?What are you talking about?? Dawn demanded in a shaky voice. ?You said this had nothing to do with Spike.?

?I was wrong,? Giles answered softly. ?God forgive me, I was wrong! If I had known, if I had had any *idea*? but there isn?t much time; we have to get Spike back here with Willow right away. The phone line at Angel?s is down, which means that someone has to go and get Spike.?

Immediately, everyone protested. Giles looked like death warmed over, which was exactly how all of them felt. Driving to L.A. on what they all knew were poorly lit highways populated mostly with half-asleep truck drivers was a recipe for disaster.

?Rupert, if you explain to us what?s going on, maybe we can find some other way to help Willow,? Joyce suggested, trying to calm everyone down.

?What Willow said a minute ago,? Giles stated at last, ?about healing Spike before with witch?s blood. She meant *her* blood: that?s how she got that scar on her wrist. She must have given him blood when he was attacked in L.A. If she gave her blood willingly, which I have no doubt she did, then her actions changed the nature of the bond that she and Spike shared.?

?So you?re saying that the bond actually *is* what?s wrong with her?? Anya asked.

?Yes, I?m afraid so,? Giles answered.

?But? but that?s good, isn?t it?? Dawn asked tentatively. ?I mean, now that we know what?s wrong with her, we can fix it, right?? Neither Giles nor Anya answered. ?Right?? Dawn asked again, her voice a bit more insistent.

?Wrong,? Anya answered. She reached back for Xander and he slid his arms around her from behind. His hands shook as they encircled his waist. He didn?t understand yet exactly what Giles meant, but Anya obviously did, and it had her scared. That was enough for him to be scared as well.

?Anya, baby, what is it?? he asked softly, cradling her in his arms. Her only answer was to turn so she was facing him so she could lay her face against his shoulder. He felt wet warmth seep onto his skin as her tears bled through his shirt. He tightened his arms around her and looked pleadingly to Giles for answers.

?The change that Willow enacted by giving Spike her blood seems to have made the bond far more sensitive than is normal,? Giles explained tentatively. ?Willow is much more aware of Spike, even in their separation, than any of the cases I have studied. I have no doubt that her reactions earlier were the result of emotions she sensed from Spike during the battle with the vampire gang in L.A. and Willow?s own, natural apprehensions for his safety.?

?So you?re saying that her awareness of him is affecting her physically?? Joyce asked, trying to understand where Giles was leading.

?Not exactly,? Giles hedged. ?On the one hand, yes, she is much more aware of him and is responding, in many ways, to any extremes of emotion he might be feeling. But that isn?t what?s causing her fever.? He took a deep breath. ?It would appear that in increasing the sensitivity of the bond, she also increased its sensitivity to distance. Her fever is actually the bond?s normal response to separation, but in Willow?s case it?s moving much more rapidly than normal.?

?How much more rapidly?? Xander asked, slowly starting to catch on.

?If I were to calculate a guess, I?d say that the bond is moving a three times its usual speed. They?ve only been separated for a little more than forty-eight hours, and normally it would take five or six days for Willow to reach this stage of withdrawal.?

?So,? Xander managed to choke out, ?how much time does she have before she?? He couldn?t bring himself to finish the sentence.

?Death,? Giles stated hesitantly in a voice that cracked just a bit despite all his efforts to keep it steady, ?usually occurs after twelve days, which in Willow?s accelerated case would mean after four days.?

?It?s only been two days,? Dawn interjected, her voice filled with a desperate hope. ?If the battle in L.A. is over and done with, Spike and Buffy should be heading back home soon, maybe even now!?

?Even if they don?t head back now, they?ll be certain to head back right after the next sundown,? Xander added, that same stubborn hope filling his voice as well. ?Even in the worst case scenario of some accident on the highway taking ages to get through, they?ll still be back here in less than a day, and that should be more than enough time to take care of what?s wrong with Willow.?

?Right,? Joyce interjected. She could see that there was something more that Giles wasn?t saying, some other reason why he was so despondent about Willow?s chances, and she wanted to get him out of the room before Dawn and Xander realized it as well. Now that they finally had some hope to cling to, she wasn?t going to let anything take that away. ?So all we can do for now is trying and figure out if there?s some way to make Willow more comfortable until Spike and Buffy get back. Rupert, why don?t you and I go and get some more coffee, and then we can decide if there books you can get from your house later that might hold something to help Willow for the time being??

Giles, too upset to argue, followed her obediently into the hallway. Joyce made sure they were well down the hallway (she knew all about Dawn?s propensity for eavesdropping) before she spoke at last.

?What is it you aren?t telling them?? she asked softly.

?The separation effects of the bond?? he answered after a moment?s hesitation. ?While it?s true that death only occurs after twelve or more days, the victim usually slips into a coma after ten days. In Willow?s case, it would happen if Spike didn?t return in the next twenty four to thirty six hours. But it could happen even sooner. Some victims have been known to drive themselves into comas ahead of schedule through sheer force of will as a type of defense mechanism, when the pain became too much for their conscious mind to bear. Willow has a very? strong will and the pain she is experiencing now is? most acute, indeed. If she decides that she can no longer deal with the pain??

?Can she not be revived after she?s fallen into a coma?? Joyce asked, catching the direction in which Giles was going.

?I-I couldn?t say for certain,? Giles stammered, unable to bring himself to say the words that would condemn the girl he loved like a daughter to her death. ?It?s far from my area of expertise, and the change in the nature of the bond makes it difficult for me to draw any definitive conclusions.?

?But you think that if Willow slips into a coma, she won?t wake up??

?I can?t say definitely that she won?t wake up,? Giles replied. ?But,? he continued slowly, ?in all the cases that have ever been recorded, no victim ever has.?

End Section 67

Section 68:

When the dust cleared and the fires burned out in the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel, the A.I. gang was left battered and bruised and triumphant? and alone. The few vampires from the attacking gang who had survived the attack had fled after their leader turned to dust, and no one bothered to chase after them. Without a powerful leader guiding and directing them, they wouldn?t be a problem anymore. Thanking the Powers that Be that Cordelia had insisted on fireproofing the lobby walls and scotch-guarding the carpets when they first moved into the hotel, the A.I. crew began to clean up.

First priority, of course, was dealing with the injuries. Spike?s demanded the most immediate attention. While Spike?s unlife had been saved when Angel smothered the flames by covering him with a blanket, the burns were still quite severe. Since everyone knew that sire?s blood was the best and surest cure, no one but Buffy gave it a second thought when Angel led Spike back into his office where they shut the door and did not open it again for over half an hour.

Satisfied that the vampires were taking care of each other, the rest of the gang mostly ignored the closed office door and concentrated on taking care of themselves. Bandaging everyone up after the fight did not, fortunately, take long. If there was one thing they had all learned over the years, it was how to administer first aid. Even Wesley?s broken arm didn?t require a hospital visit. Cordelia, once revived, was in her element, bossing and ordering and ?supervising? the patching up everyone else. Gunn was busy seeing to Terrence, the boy from his gang who had been knocked out, and wrapping up Wesley?s arm. The rest of Gunn?s gang-on-loan were kept busy sweeping out the massive piles of dust littering the floor under Cordelia?s close supervision, and tossing into the alley all the items of furniture that were too badly burnt to be salvageable.

Only Buffy remained unoccupied. Though sore and bruised, she wasn?t injured with anything that a good night?s sleep and a day or two of taking it easy wouldn?t cure, so she didn?t take part in the general bandaging up that occupied the rest of the group. Instead she stayed close to the door of Angel?s office, waiting for the door to reopen and Angel to emerge, and straining to hear any of the sounds from within.

Although Buffy never spoke of it, battles have a strange effect on slayers that only other slayers could fully understand. Faith had hinted at it years before when she stated that fighting always made her ?hungry and horny.? That was, of course, putting it mildly. Slayers were fighting machines, genetically designed and biologically engineered to physically oppose evil for the whole of their lifetime. They only felt fully alive when they were using every ounce of their strength and every shred of their ability to fight for their lives. Fighting stirred their blood, stimulated their senses, and awakened the most carnal of their appetites in a way that was almost orgasmic. After such a good fight and hard-earned victory, Buffy skin was tingling and her blood was humming and she needed, absolutely *needed* someone with whom she could work off the blissful energy vibrating through her body.

She needed Angel, needed him so badly she was practically salivating at the thought of him. She leaned against the wall by his office, knees weak and physically trembling at the thought of being near him again. Her eyes closed and she bit back a moan as she remembered the things Angel could do to her, the way he could make her feel. Vampires were creatures of enormous appetites as well, and she knew that the battle had brought out Angel?s more carnal sides, just as it had with hers. He?d need her tonight, just as she needed him; she was sure of it. Absolutely sure of it. So completely sure of it, that she failed to notice the soft moans coming from the office, and failed to consider the possibility that Angel might turn his desires to someone other than her.

Angel gasped as Spike?s fangs sank deeper into his neck and his eyes closed, against his will. It had been so long, so very, terribly, achingly long since he had had Spike pressed up against him like this. He knew nothing would come of it, not tonight, maybe not ever again after the way he had treated Spike for so long, but that didn?t stop it from feeling amazingly good. He knew Spike could feel his erection, as close as he was, but neither of them made any move to move away. Angel raised a gentle, tentative hand and stroked Spike?s hair, which was still surprisingly soft, in spite of the bleach. Spike purred instinctively in response and Angel smiled, continuing the caress, holding Spike just a little bit closer.

They needed this, both of them. After the fight that got their blood pumping, after the adrenalin running through their veins when they thought they would surely lose, and, most especially, after sheer the terror that had raced through Angel when he saw Spike on fire and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would lose him if he didn?t act quickly, they both needed the comfort of touching and being touched, holding and being held, and sharing their blood and their strength and themselves with each other. They gave no thought at that moment to anything or anyone else.

Reality intruded slowly. Sounds from outside the office came to their attention bit by bit. Cordelia?s strident voice was, after all, hard to ignore. Spike?s fangs receded from Angel?s neck and the wound soon closed. Angel reluctantly dropped his hold on Spike, and Spike pulled away fully, looking Angel in the eye without speaking. They stood like that for a long moment, just looking at each other. Then the final piece of reality intruded as Spike picked up on the heartbeat close to the office door and the pervading scent of burnt almonds in the air. Slayers always smelled like burnt almonds to vampires when they were aroused: a mixture of bitter and sweet, not unpleasant, but somehow unsettling. Buffy was very thoroughly aroused, and air around them was thick with the smell of it. They both recognized it instinctively, but it was Spike who turned to the door. After all, Spike was in love with her. And Angel was not.

Spike opened the door and spotted Buffy immediately, his eyes darkening at the lust written all over her face. The scent of burnt almonds was stronger with the door open, and it was making his head fuzzy and his pants painfully tight. Buffy didn?t notice Spike watching her as she looked straight past Spike to Angel, a spark lighting in her eyes as she noticed the prominent bulge in the front of his trousers. She leaned against the wall, needing its support even more as she arched her back, trying to draw his attention and hopefully his lust on to her. Angel didn?t notice. He was busy looking at Spike. There?s no telling how long the three-way stare might have lasted if Cordelia hadn?t become aware of it at just that moment.

?What,? she asked loudly, making all three of them jump, ?are the three with super powers doing standing around while the *rest* of us clean? And in the *dark*, no less. I don?t think it would be asking for too much for *someone* to go check on the fuse box??

Angel leapt on the opportunity to get out of the room and headed immediately down to the basement to check on the wiring. He was followed shortly thereafter by Wesley who was convinced that he knew exactly what to do to get the power up and running again. With the moment broken, Spike and Buffy stepped fully into the lobby and, under careful supervision, of course, began to clean with the others.

After an hour of Wesley and Angel puttering around with the wiring, trying to get the power restored to the building, Cordelia lost her patience and called an electrician. She arrived within fifteen minutes, and had the power up and running within half an hour. Angel and Wesley, attempting to hide their embarrassment, came swaggering back upstairs after paying the lady, bragging about how well the fight had gone. Yes, they might not know everything there was to know about power lines and how to restore them, but they knew plenty about how to fight vamps, and that was more important, right? Cordelia patted them on the head and wished them goodnight, stumbling into the elevator to crash in the spare bedroom she kept at the hotel. After the night they had had, heaven knew she needed her rest. Changing clothes swiftly, she stuck in some earplugs and practically collapsed into bed. Sleep came quickly.

Gunn rounded up his gang and loaded them into his truck to drive them home. Wesley headed out the door at the same time to head over to his apartment. Angel took advantage of the general confusion to slip upstairs to his room while Buffy wasn?t looking. He locked the door securely behind him and was soon asleep.

Buffy looked up and noticed that she was alone in the mostly clean, slightly scorched lobby with Spike. With a huff of annoyance, she headed for the elevator. She didn?t know exactly how Angel had managed to get away from her, but there was no denying that he was gone. Short of searching through the entire hotel, there was no real way for her to find him. He had been very careful to make sure she didn?t know the location of his room. Her only option at this point was to get upstairs to her room where she would be able, at least, to get herself off. She was practically crawling out of her skin and needed some release *soon* or she wouldn?t be able to sleep.

Spending some ?alone time? with Angel would have to wait until tomorrow. It would be her last day in L.A. and, therefore, her last chance to make things right with him. She?d need a good night?s sleep so she could look her best. Her mind started racing with images of thoughts and fantasies that could give her the release she craved the fastest, causing her arousal to skyrocket to the point where Spike just couldn?t take it anymore. He simply *had* to do something to get that passion focused on him.

?Running away, slayer?? Spike?s voice taunted from behind her.

She wheeled around, instantly furious. ?What would I be running away from?? she demanded, hands on her hips.

?Me, of course,? Spike answered, moving closer in a deliberately predatory manner. ?As always. Any reason why you?re so afraid to be alone with me, little girl??

?I?m not afraid, I?m just repulsed,? Buffy spat out. ?Who *in their right mind* would want to be alone with you??

The emphasis on *in their right mind* was too clear to ignore and Spike flinched, as always, at the allusion to Drusilla, but quickly collected himself. He was hacked off and horny already and Buffy was obviously the same, and if she wanted a fight, then that was exactly what she would get.

?Big words from a girl whose boyfriends can?t leave town fast enough once she spreads her legs. Tell me, slayer, am I the only man you?ve kissed who hasn?t run straight for the state line??

Spike barely got the sentence out before Buffy threw her first punch. Spike ducked, causing Buffy to swing in a nearly complete circle, almost losing her balance. Spike?s chuckle in response just made her madder, and she swung again. It was blocked, but the kick she directly immediately after connected, sending Spike back several steps. Her smile of satisfaction was almost feral, as was his grin in reply.

?Bring it on,? he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

And she did.

The fight raged on for nearly an hour. Spike couldn?t strike any blows without setting off the chip, but he could still block, not to mention duck under her punches, causing her to slam her fist into the wall instead of his smirking face on more than one occasion. Neither held anything back as the fight grew harder and hotter by the second. Spike was so achingly hard, he was amazed he could walk, much less fight, while Buffy was so aroused from the adrenalin, the slayer pheromones, and the sheer, aggravating pleasure of a strong and capable opponent that she was nearly shaking and couldn?t stop her thighs from squeezing together in those brief moments when she was standing still. When her tongue slid out of her mouth to lick the sweat off her upper lip, Spike had had all that he could take.

Pouncing, he slammed her against the wall, pressing his body tightly against her and capturing her tongue in his mouth as he attacked her mouth with his. He barely noticed when the chip fired in response to the rough force of his actions. After all, agony was always a part of the experience with Buffy. Loving her was harsh and tumultuous and passionate and painful. The throbbing of firing synapses in his head seemed to fit the moment, somehow, especially when she instinctively responded, kissing him back just as hard. One hand clamped on to his ass, pulling him closer while the other tangled in his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt while thrusting her tongue deeper into his mouth and grinding her crotch against his.

If the kiss had stayed like that; rough and angry; then there?s a chance it might have lasted longer. But Spike couldn?t help himself. He had the girl that he had wanted for so very long in his arms, and being rough with her just wasn?t something that he wanted to do. Instinctively, he gentled the kiss, moving his lips more softly against hers and releasing some of the tension from his grip.

The gentleness brought Buffy back to earth. The kiss became a *kiss* instead of just another form of attack. Disgusted at Spike for kissing her, disgusted with herself for letting him, and absolutely *infuriated* with her maddeningly horny body for responding so eagerly, she shoved him away as hard as she could. Unexpected as the move was, it knocked Spike over and he landed with a thud on the floor. She turned her head to the side and spat, trying to get the taste of him out of her mouth, before turning to face him with eyes full of loathing.

?How many times do I have to tell you, Spike? The only chance you have with me is if I?m unconscious. That?s the only way I?d let you touch me.?

Without another word, she stormed over to the staircase. She was in no mood to wait for the elevator. Barreling up the stairs, she didn?t stop until she reached her room where she slammed the door shut. She practically ripped her clothes off her body as she dove onto the bed and instantly shoved her hand between her legs. she thought to herself firmly, forcing her mind onto the dark haired vampire. Her eyes closed as her fingers delved deeper and her mind ran wild with memories and fantasies of her ex-lover. Firmly convinced that tomorrow would be the breakthrough in rebuilding her relationship with Angel, she allowed herself to imagine his kiss, his touch, his hands all over her body, and bit back a silent scream as she came, at last. Sleep followed soon after.

Meanwhile, Spike was still slumped over on the floor of the lobby, close to tears. She had rejected him so many times before; he had thought he?d built up some kind of resistance to it. He hadn?t known it could still hurt like that. Clenching his jaw to hold back both curses and tears, he forced himself to his feet. The sun would be rising soon, and he was bone tired. He?d need his rest if they were going to head back to Sunnydale the next day.

Dragging himself over to the elevator, he let it take him up to his floor, where he mechanically entered his room. Stripping off his scorched and tattered clothes, he slipped into bed and closed his eyes. Finally, silently, he allowed the tears to fall, unaware that in Sunnydale a matching set of empathetic tears slid down the cheeks of a redhead asleep in her hospital bed. The sun rose only a few minutes later, shining serenely over the quiet hotel where everyone finally slept.

End Section 68

Updated 9-18-04

Subject: FIC: Burn for Me W/S part 69/?

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Kat, darling, did you honestly think you wouldn't get exactly what you asked for? If you request a new fic and a part of Burn for your birthday, then a new fic and a new part of Burn is exactly what you'll *get*. Angst warning on this section as well, but since the one who gets hurt (primarily) is Buffy, I don't know if any of you will be feeling the need to grab a box of kleenex. *I* feel sorry for her... but that doesn't mean anyone else will. All the parts are up at http://nearheralways.com/efiction/viewstory.php?sid=523 for anyone who needs a refresher. For those of you who haven't gotten a chance yet, the Willowy Goodness Awards site is still accepting votes. You can get to it at http://wga.willowslilsecret.net/vote.html. I did it myself, earlier today, and seriously, folks, it only takes about two minutes, and you can make some authors *really* happy, myself and the lovely birthday girl included!
:-)
Em

Title: Burn for Me
Author: Emily
E-mail: emnorth2002@yahoo.com
Pairing: W/S
Rating: PG
Dedication: To Kat, happy birthday! And to Inell because I'll be working on the fic I promised *her* next!
Distribution: Angelic Vamps, Near Her Always, Bite Me, Please? and Soulmates. Anyone else, if you want it, just ask. I always say yes.
Disclaimer: The basic premise and characters belong to lots of people who aren?t me.
Spoilers: Through ?The Crush? (Joyce is alive, Dawn knows she?s the key, and everyone knows that Spike loves Buffy)

Section 69:

It was well past noon before the Hyperion lobby held any signs of life. When the gang had finished cleaning up the lobby after the battle in the wee hours of the morning, Gunn and Wesley had been ordered by Angel in no uncertain terms to take the day; if not the week; off so they could recover from the whole ordeal. They took the order to heart and spent the whole of their mornings lounged around their apartments with no intentions of coming in to the office.

Cordelia, despite the authoritarian energy she had shown the night before, was more seriously injured than she had been willing to let on. She had taken some pretty heavy blows in the battle before she was knocked out, and needed at least a few days of taking it easy in order to fully recover. Since Cordelia was the kind of girl who needed an ear-splitting alarm clock or notice of a sale starting at six in the morning to keep her body from sleeping twelve hours a night, all she had to do to guarantee plenty of sleep was neglect to set her alarm. Secure in the knowledge that even if she got up, Angel would probably send her straight back to bed anyway, Cordelia slept soundly, ensconced in her room in the hotel.

Angel, though he had not been seriously injured during the fight itself, had given Spike quite a bit of blood to help the blond heal. Unaccustomed to losing so much blood at once, Angel found himself sleeping late, as well.

Buffy?s body, likewise, was in self-repair mode after the double strain of the battle against the vampires and then her later fight with Spike. She slept soundly and dreamlessly while her body healed.

Spike, energized with sire?s blood for the first time in years was, therefore, the first one to wake, in the mellow middle of the afternoon. He stretched slowly to test his strained muscles and formerly-burnt skin, and smiled in relief when he felt just how much he had healed. Already, all visible signs of the battle had faded, and within another day or two, he knew that even the residual soreness in his skin and his muscles would be gone. Running his tongue over his lips to moisten the dry skin, his smile faded when he realized he could taste on his lips a combination of sire?s blood, slayer?s saliva and his own tears. he thought to himself. The town was driving him crackers.

At first, it had been fun to be treated as the prodigal son while Buffy was the pariah, but the pleasures of life at the Hyperion were quickly wearing thin. The battle they were there to fight was done, the relationship between Spike and Angel was getting confusing again after years of pleasantly uncomplicated mutual dislike, and Buffy was about to self-destruct in a way that was downright painful for someone who loved her as much as Spike did to watch. Nothing that had taken place since they had arrived in L.A. had happened the way he had expected it to, and he was still undecided as to whether or not that was a good thing. Good or bad, it was confusing and upsetting, and he?d had about all that he could take. Besides, he missed Willow like crazy. With all the insanity of the past few days, she was pretty much the only thing left in his world that made any kind of sense to him at all.

he thought to himself. With a smile on his face from that cheering thought, he grabbed a quick shower and packed his bags. Heading down into the silent lobby, he helped himself to a packet of blood from the fridge and then ducked into the watcher?s office, heading straight for the phone. Already, his mind was running through what he would say to Willow: how he would scold her for not returning his messages the previous day and making him worry, how he?d assure her that the battle had been an easy victory and that he?d been careful, like he had promised (which was a lie, of course, but it would make her happy, just the same), and how he?d be coming home to her in just a few more hours.

His hand closed around the receiver, ready to pull it to his ear and dial the familiar number when a sound from the lobby caught his full attention. Stepping away from the phone, Spike headed stealthily to the doorway to investigate. He stopped when he reached the doorframe and hid. Standing in the shadows of the watcher?s office, he watched undetected as Buffy stepped into view.

There was something off about her, something about her appearance that instinctively struck a discordant note with Spike, though it took him a minute to realize what it was. Finally, it clicked. She looked different because she was nervous. Spike had, over the time that he had known her, seen the slayer look happy, sad, angry, furious, vengeful, ecstatic and triumphant, but never, in all the years that he had known her, had Spike ever seen her look nervous. It made her seem younger, weaker, and far more vulnerable than usual, and Spike automatically ducked further into the shadows, knowing that she?d be furious if she knew he was there, watching her at that moment. For a girl who dressed just on the legal side of public indecency, she was surprisingly particular about who she allowed to see her with her more vulnerable emotions exposed. She wouldn?t want him, of all people, to see her like that.

She stepped quickly into Angel?s office, sliding the door shut again behind her. Through the wall, Spike could hear her seat herself on the couch, fidgeting a bit as she made herself comfortable, and then fidgeting a bit more out of sheer nerves. Phone call forgotten, Spike stood with his ear practically pressed against the wall, trying to figure out what she was up to. He didn?t have long to wait before he found out. Both Buffy and Spike looked up as footsteps sounded in the lobby and they both recognized Angel?s distinctive tread. Buffy settled herself on the couch, holding her breath in anticipation while Spike really *did* press his ear against the wall, not wanting to miss what was about to happen.

Angel stepped in front of his closed office door and forced a sigh out of his long-dead lungs. He knew Buffy was in there; he could feel her distinctive slayer presence from the moment he entered the lobby. And he had a fairly good idea of why she was in there. He had, after all, been expecting this. Gripping the knob and gritting his teeth, he opened the door. They might as well get this over with once and for all. Buffy needed to know that things were well and truly over between the two of them. He had hoped that she?d be able to figure it out for herself, but everything she had done since she arrived proved that she refused to accept what was so blatantly obvious. This time, this conversation, Angel knew that he had to be sure to make it absolutely clear. The relationship they had had was dead and gone and would never be revived. The sooner she accepted that, the better off they both would be. Angel wasn?t looking forward to driving the point home, but he knew that this was as good a time as any and better than most to get it done with. She would, at least, be leaving soon.

?Buffy,? he acknowledged as he entered the office, watching the way she sprung up out of her seat at the sight of him. Deliberately, he crossed over to his desk, hoping that putting some distance, not to mention some furniture, between them might help keep the discussion from getting too emotional.

?Angel,? Buffy answered softly, tentatively. ?I-I?ll be leaving tonight.?

?Yes, I know,? Angel answered, his voice coldly unresponsive.

?I wanted to apologize,? she said, avoiding eye contact, ?for the way that I?ve behaved, some of the things that I?ve said??

Angel sighed again, this time in relief. This was going much better than he had hoped. Maybe she had learned to accept it, after all. If forgiveness for her behavior was all that she wanted, then that, at least, was easy enough for him to give. ?Apology accepted, Buffy. I know it must have been? surprising to come here and have things be so different from what you expected. I don?t blame you for lashing out a little.?

?So you forgive me?? Buffy said hopefully, edging closer to him, scooting her way around the desk.

?Of course.?

?I?m so glad,? she replied, her voice dropping to a lower, more confident tone as she stepped even closer, close enough to touch. ?You know I could never stand it when you were angry with me, Angel.?

?I?m not angry, Buffy, I?? Angel tried to explain, backing away from her, but Buffy cut him off as she moved even closer. Angel?s back hit the wall and Buffy closed in, preventing him from moving away.

?I know, Angel,? she whispered, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. ?I know.? Her hand slid up his arm to the back of his neck while the other hand rose to his chest, holding him in place as she raised her lips against his, drawing him into a kiss, pressing him back against the wall. On the other side of that same wall, Spike heard the sound of lips on lips and closed his eyes in pain.

As precariously as she was balanced against him, Angel didn?t think he could push her away without physically hurting her, but he could (and did) turn his mouth away from hers, breaking the kiss. ?No, Buffy,? he stated firmly.

?Yes, Angel,? she answered insistently, running one hand up and down his chest while the other stayed locked behind his head, trying to pull his mouth back on to hers. ?Yes, please. Please, Angel. I need you. I love you so much.?

?*No*, Buffy,? Angel stated more firmly. Gentleness be damned; he didn?t have to put up with this. He pushed her away. She staggered, but didn?t fall. But it only took her as long as she needed to steady herself on her feet to go from sweetly affectionate woman in love to slayer-strength pissed-off woman scorned.

?It?s Cordelia, isn?t it?? she demanded angrily. ?You fucking liar; you *promised* me there was nothing going on between the two of you!?

?It?s not Cordelia, Buffy,? Angel replied, rapidly losing his patience. He had been prepared to let her down easy, to gently explain that he just didn?t feel that way about her anymore. He had had a whole speech prepared where he?d tell her that she really was a wonderful woman and that one day, she?d find the person that she was meant to be with, but that their time apart had made it clear to him that regardless of whether or not he was cursed, regardless of whether or not he was a vampire at all, that person just wasn?t him.

He had known she wouldn?t like what he was saying. He had even anticipated a few tears on her part. He had been prepared to deal with that. But for her to behave like the proverbial shrew, raking him over the coals as if he were a cheating husband, accusing him and his friends of all manner of things? it was simply more than he could take. He was sick of having this argument with her, sick of her jealousy and pettiness and childish refusal to listen to anything he was saying. He was making a desperate effort to hold on to his temper, but his last reserves of patience were fading away.

?Then it?s Darla?? Buffy screeched. ?You *staked* that skanky bitch years ago for *me* and now she?s taken you away from me??

?She couldn?t take me away from you, Buffy, because I?m not *yours*!? Angel bellowed out. ?I will *never* be yours again!?

Buffy froze. She didn?t move, didn?t speak, didn?t even blink. Several long seconds passed before she began to breathe again.

?What did you say?? she managed to gasp out, still standing shock-still, as if she was hoping that as long as she didn?t move, time would stand still and he?d be able to take back what he had said before it became real.

?I?m not yours, Buffy,? Angel repeated, his voice noticeably softer than it had been moments before, but still firm enough to show his unwavering decision. ?I won?t be yours again.?

?But you love me,? she protested, dazedly, as if she had just been told that the sky was no longer blue and two plus two now equaled five. She didn?t sound angry, just confused, as if everything she knew to be true had just been proven false. ?You?ve always loved me, and you always *will* love me.?

?*No*, Buffy,? Angel repeated, his voice deliberately slow and forceful so that it couldn?t be misunderstood. ?I don?t love you. Not now. Not anymore.?

?But?? she stammered, still confused, ?why?? Her voice grew a bit stronger. ?You loved me before. You *did*. I *know* you did. And I haven?t changed.?

?*I?ve* changed, Buffy,? Angel cut her off. ?I?m not the same man I was before.?

?You?re not a man at all,? Buffy sneered, anger starting to replace her shock.

Angel groaned. ?This is why I left Sunnydale in the first place,? he muttered under his breath. Unfortunately, Buffy heard him.

?The damn *curse* is the reason you left Sunnydale!? she screeched. ?Because you wanted to be with me. Because you *loved* me too much to be near me and not be able to be with me. Don?t pretend it isn?t true! You know you wanted to be with me, and that?s why you had to leave!?

?The curse didn?t make me leave, Buffy; I left because I didn?t want to stay!? Angel retorted, the words coming out almost before he was aware of them. ?In three years of being together, all we did was make each other miserable, and I?d had enough of it!?

?No!? Buffy shouted. ?That?s not true; we were happy, you know we were happy!?

?*When* Buffy? When were we happy? When we first started going out and you tried to pretend that everything I represented didn?t even exist? When you were so busy flirting with Owen and Ford and those frat boys who wanted to feed you to a snake that you barely noticed I was around? How about when Angelus broke lose and you sent me to hell? Or your senior year when you told me half a dozen times that you couldn?t be around me anymore, and then got pissed off when I flirted with Faith on *your* orders??

Angel finally understood why Cordelia took so much pleasure, if not pride, in her own bluntness. It was downright cathartic to say all the things he?d buried inside himself for so long. He hadn?t *wanted* to say these things to Buffy, hadn?t like the thought of deliberately hurting her even if he didn?t love her anymore, but when she pushed him? well? they just came out. And he wasn?t sorry about it in the least. Every word he said was true, and it was past time for Buffy to come to terms with it.

?In our entire relationship, can you name a time where we went more than a week without one of us getting jealous, or breaking things off, or getting into a fight and drowning in so much angst, I damn near disgusted *myself*? When were we *happy* Buffy? When were we ever really happy??

She was furious, he could tell. She practically had steam coming out of her ears. Fortunately, though, she was too mad at the moment to be able to speak, which gave him a chance to finish, uninterrupted.

?And then I came to L.A. and things finally started working out for me.? Angel?s voice grew less angry and more excited as he tried to convey to her what had happened in his life since they had parted ways. He had changed and they were *good* changes. He wanted her to understand that.

?I started to do things for myself, instead of just being your sidekick all the time. And I realized something: I wasn?t fighting to help you, or earn my redemption so I could be with you; I was fighting because I *wanted* to. It wasn?t just your battle anymore; it was mine, too. I didn?t need to love you anymore to remind me to want to do good things. I didn?t need you to give me purpose anymore. I? I didn?t need you.? He slowed down, trying to say this gently. ?I *don?t* need you. And I don?t love you. Not anymore. I?ve moved on. What we had was very powerful and very real? but it?s over now. Really over. No matter what happens now, even if my soul becomes permanent, even if the Powers that Be make me human tomorrow, I won?t be coming for you again.?

For a moment, Buffy stood still, seemingly processing this new information. Angel dared to hope, for a moment, that she would accept it. Or at the very least, maybe it wouldn?t fully sink in until she was already half-way back to Sunnydale and he was out of range. But then he saw that familiar fury in her eyes, and his heart sank. No such luck.

Her fist slammed into his face so hard, he saw stars. When his vision cleared, she had already stormed out of the room. Angel crossed over to the doorway in time to see her barreling up the stairs, doubtless on her way upstairs to pack her bags and get away from him, as quickly as possible. He made no move to stop her. While Angel was distracted by the pain in his broken nose and Buffy was distracted by the pain in her broken heart, neither noticed the bleach blond vamp standing just inside the doorway of the watcher?s office, taking in it all.

End Section 69

BR>
Section 70:

Back in Sunnydale, the gang had slipped into a depressingly familiar routine. Once they knew that Willow was in no *immediate* danger, it was no longer necessary for the whole group to stay with her all the time, and they slipped into hospital behavior. They performed all duties in shifts: one person staying with the patient, one person running any errands that came up, another (if necessary) doing research to see if there was anything in a pile of dusty books that could help them, and whoever was left going home to toss and turn and pretend to get a few hours of sleep before the shifts rotated again.

Willow, meanwhile, slept on, while her fever continued its slow, merciless climb. Despite their best efforts, the doctors failed in every attempt to contain, much less lower the fever. When they reached the conclusion that there was nothing medicine could do for her, they had to satisfy themselves with pumping her full of fluids and vitamins, and giving her sedatives as often as possible, hoping that sleep and nutrition would allow her body to fight off the problem that medicine was helpless to cure.

Despite the sedatives, Willow?s sleep was not particularly restful as her body tried; and failed; to fight the fever that was consuming it. Sleep rarely lasted more than an hour or so before she woke, tossing and turning, trying to shake off the heat. There were no blatant signs of delirium once the fight in L.A. was over, but she still grew less and less coherent each time she woke. The gang no longer bothered asking the doctors and nurses who came in on their regular rounds if there was anything more that could be done for her. They knew that the answer was no. The only one who could help Willow was a bleached blond vampire over a hundred miles away.

Even though it was broad daylight, the gang couldn?t hold back on the hope that Spike would be there soon, miraculously appearing in spite of the lethal sunshine and his own complete ignorance of the situation, to save Willow. Every time the door opened, the Scooby sitting with Willow would look up hopefully, only to slump back down in disappointment when the door opened fully to reveal a doctor, or a nurse, or another Scooby. They tried calling L.A. with religious regularity every twenty minutes, but the line stayed disconnected, and no matter how many times the door to the hospital room opened, it was never Spike. They?d hold onto Willow?s hand which was becoming uncomfortably hot to touch and curse the one-way nature of the bond, wishing they could use the connection Willow was so obviously feeling to Spike to force into action the oblivious vampire in L.A.

{At that moment, Willow was the last thing on Spike?s mind as all he could feel was his own pain. Spike watched as Buffy stormed down the hall in a fury with barely concealed tears evident in her eyes and felt his undead heart break yet again. She didn?t even notice him standing there. he asked himself.

The stronger Spike?s emotions rose, the more clearly they transmitted through his bond, until Willow awoke in her hospital room in Sunnydale with tears in her eyes.}

?Will?? Dawn asked, cautiously. ?Is something? can I get you anything?? She held her breath while she waited for an answer. There was no telling, now, what kind of answer she would get. When Giles last checked on her, he said that delirium would, most likely, set in soon. Every time Willow opened her eyes, the Scooby with her would hold his or her breath, hoping that she hadn?t dipped into delirium just *yet*.

?Why does he love her so much?? Willow whispered softly. ?He just loves her so *much*, Dawnie, and I don?t understand. She hurts him so badly.?

{Spike, in the hotel, escaped to his room. The last damn thing he needed was Angel sitting him down for another heart to heart chat. All he needed, really *needed*, was to get the hell out of L.A.}

?I don?t know, Wills. I just don?t know,? Dawn sighed.

?I?d give him anything to make his pain stop,? Willow said, more to herself than to the girl standing beside her. ?I?d give him blood? no wait, I already did. I?d give him a home? no, I did that, too.? For a moment, Willow looked perplexed, then her face cleared. ?I?d take out the chip!? Her face clouded again. ?No, I?m already doing that.? She sighed. ?What can I give him, Dawnie? He hurts so badly, and I?d give anything? anything I have ? I?d give him all of me, everything I have and everything I am, body and blood, mind and soul and heart and love and? *all* I have if he?d take it, but it wouldn?t make the pain stop. What can I give him to make the pain stop?? Willow started messing with the sheets, digging around in the bedding as if it was hiding something from her, something that she needed to find.

?Got to find something to give,? Willow muttered under her breath. ?Something to give him to make him happy.? Dawn?s eyes filled with tears as her heart sank. The delirium, it appeared, was starting. ?What can I give him, Dawnie? What can I give him?? Her searching became more frantic and Dawn started to reach for the call button for the nurse?s station. Maybe another sedative would calm Willow down.

{Triumphantly, Spike pulled the bottle of scotch out of the hiding place he had found under the floorboards. God only knew how old the bottle was; doubtless it dated back to the pre-Angel Investigations days when the hotel was used by drifters and drunks; but he didn?t much care. Alcohol was alcohol. Even if it was poison, it wasn?t like it would kill him. All it could do was numb the pain for a few hours. And that?s all he needed: just something to numb the pain for a few more hours.}

Dawn was pre-empted when the door opened and Anya walking into the room.

?W-willow?? Anya asked shakily, instantly worried at the sight of Willow obviously struggling with her bedding, with a lost and confused expression on her face.

?Anya?? Willow asked weakly, stopping her struggles as she turned to see her new visitor. ?Is that you??

?Yeah, Willow, I?m here,? Anya replied, seating herself very carefully on the bed next to the redhead and flinching slightly at the heat literally pouring off her skin.

?Do I get my wish now?? she asked, her voice sounding hopeful and incredibly young. ?I blew out all my candles every year and never got my wish? but you give wishes, don?t you, Anya? Can I have my wish??

{Spike didn?t stir from his drunken stupor until a few more hours had passed and the slayer came banging on his door. Struggling to decipher her abrupt commands, the words ?home? and ?now? finally sunk in and he rose quickly to his feet. His wish was answered: it was sunset at last, and they could finally get the hell out of there.}

Dawn and Anya exchanged silent, pain-filled glances. ?Delirious?? Anya mouthed to Dawn. Dawn nodded. ?For how long?? Anya mouthed next. ?Just now,? Dawn replied, jumping to her feet and rushing over to the window, unable to look at Willow anymore.

?Anya?? Willow asked again, when there was no answer. ?My wish??

?Go ahead and make your wish,? Anya choked out. ?And if I can, I?ll make it true.?

?I can have my wish??

?Sure, Willow,? Anya replied. ?Whatever you want.?

{Spike just wanted to get out of there and he shifted his weight back and forth of his feet with visible impatience as the slayer bid Angel a tension-filled goodbye. He watched her, and she watched Angel, and neither of them was any happier for what they saw. But finally, *finally* they were heading for the door.}

?No,? Willow said sadly. ?Not what I *want*, but what I *wish*. I want Spike, but he doesn?t want me. So I wanna give Spike my wish,? she said in that same innocent tone. ?Because if he had a wish, he?d be happy. I can?t make him happy, but a wish could. Can I give him my wish??

?Sure Willow,? Anya managed to whisper. ?You can do whatever you want. Don?t? don?t worry about that now.?

?Can you bring him here, Anya?? Willow asked hopefully. ?Bring him here so I can give him my wish??

?He?ll be here soon,? Anya promised. ?Very soon. Just hold on for now, just a *little* bit longer. He?ll be here soon.?

{Buffy slammed the front door shut so hard, the noise echoed through the walls. It was so loud, it even managed to wake Cordelia from her coma-like sleep. Bleary eyed and only partially awake, she stumbled out of her bedroom to see what had caused the racket.}

Dawn turned to add her reassurances to Anya?s when the light from the window caught her hair. Dawn?s natural blonde highlights weren?t very noticeable in most lights, but the sunlight hit them at just the right angle in that moment to make her hair light up till it looked nearly platinum blonde.

?Spike!? Willow exclaimed, delightedly. ?You came! I wanted to give you my wish, so you could be happy. You?ll be happy once you get your wish, won?t you Spike?? She smiled so brightly in Dawn?s direction that it was difficult for a moment to believe she was sick. She looked almost radiant. But then she moved as if to get out of the bed and the sickness became all too apparent as she realized, even in her delirious state, that she lacked the strength to get out of bed. She flinched in pain at her overly abrupt movement and fell back against the pillows.

Dawn rushed forward when Willow fell back, stepping out of the sunlight, returning her hair to its normal light brown. As the platinum light faded out of her hair, all signs of happiness faded out of Willow?s face.

{?Is everything alright?? Cordelia asked sleepily as she entered the lobby. ?I thought I heard a noise.?

?Everything?s fine,? Angel replied. ?Buffy and Spike just left.}

?Spike,? Willow whispered softly, ?Where did you go? Please don?t leave me. I just wanted to make you happy. Please don?t go. I need you so badly. I-I love you so much.?

Anya looked up and caught Dawn?s eye. The teenager?s face looked slightly blurry, and it took Anya a minute to realize that it was because she was seeing her through tears. Dawn was crying as well. This, then, was the result of their matchmaking attempt. Willow was completely in love with Spike. And it looked like it just might kill her.

?Please Spike?? Willow continued to plead from the bed. ?Please come back? Please don?t leave me? Please? Please?? Willow?s thrashing grew worse as she tried to scramble out of bed to reach the vampire. Sniffling loudly, Dawn pressed the nurse?s call button, stepping back when the strong, capable nurse brought in yet another sedative. It was injected into Willow?s IV and they watched as her eyes unwillingly drifted shut while her lips kept forming the word ?please,? ?please,? ?please.?

?I don?t think I can take this much longer,? Anya whispered.

?The sun?s starting to set,? Dawn replied, her voice straining to sound hopeful but somehow falling short. ?Spike will be here soon.?

Anya glanced over to the window and her eye caught on the clock on the wall. ?Have you tried calling Angel lately?? she asked, looking for something to do. Calling Angel wouldn?t take long, but it would give her *some* occupation, even if it didn?t last.

?Not in the past half hour,? Dawn shrugged. ?Go ahead if you want.?

Anya picked up the phone and dialed the number she had memorized hours before.

{?They left? Is it sunset already?? Cordelia asked, slowly becoming more alert.

?Yeah,? Angel answered, turning to face her. ?Want me to drive you home??

?Home? Okay. It?ll be nice to sleep in my own bed, maybe get Dennis to draw me a ba? Oh shit, Dennis!? Cordelia squealed, rushing over to the phone on her desk. ?I didn?t call to let him know I wasn?t coming home last night. He?ll be frantic!? She yanked up the phone and almost started dialing the number before she realized there was no dial tone.

?The phone?s dead,? she said, hanging it up with a confused expression on her face. ?Wonder when that happened??

?The vamp gang probably cut the line last night when they cut the power,? Angel suggested. ?Too bad we didn?t check before. I hope we didn?t miss any important calls.?

?I doubt we did,? Cordelia replied. ?What are the odds that anything important would happen today, right when we didn?t have a phone??

?You?re right,? Angel answered. ?Come on. I?ll take you home, and then call the phone company from a pay phone. If anyone has to reach us, they?ll try back later.}

?We?re sorry, this number is out of service. Please, hang up the phone, and try again.?

End Section 70

Section 71:

Buffy bit the inside of her lip so hard, it nearly started bleeding as she started up the car. She was determined that she wouldn?t cry. After all, there was no reason. Any second now, Angel would come running out, telling her that he was sorry, that he didn?t want to end things the way that they had, that he still loved her. Any second now. Any second. But the seconds stretched out, and Angel didn?t come out, and Buffy eventually had to resign herself to the fact that he wasn?t coming after her. Not this time. From the looks of it, he wouldn?t be coming after her ever again.

Buffy?s relationship with Angel had been rocky under the best of circumstances and one or the other of them had called it quits a dozen times. But even when things got rough, Buffy held on to the belief that Angel was her soulmate and that some how, some way, they?d be together in the end. Even when she sent him to hell, she never quite gave up hope. Parker, Riley, Ben and any other boy who held her interest was only a way for her to pass the time until she could be with her Angel again, at last. His love for her had given her the strength to face the demons and come to terms with her own powers. Because she loved and trusted him, she had come to trust and believe in her own strength to make a difference in the world. She had defined herself as a slayer and as a woman through her love for him.

It never occurred to her that he didn?t feel the same way. He had told her over and over again that she was the love of his unlife, the only person on earth who had ever brought him a moment of true and complete happiness. She?d given him her virginity and he?d given her his soul. How could their love be anything less than forever? Her love for him had been his salvation and inspiration. Because he wanted to be worthy of her, he had pulled himself out of the gutter and become a fighter and a champion. Their love had allowed Angel to shed his self-loathing and make the contribution he was destined to make. Buffy simply hadn?t realized that all she had been was the spark, the impetus. She had been the reason that Angel wanted to be a better person. Once he established himself on the right road, he didn?t need her anymore. Angel had outgrown her.

If things had been different at that point in Buffy?s life, then Buffy might have been able to accept it. If Angel had come to her when she was happy with Riley and told her that she had been an enormous inspiration to him in the past, but that he was forming a new life and a new destiny that she wasn?t a part of anymore, she would have been hurt, but she would have gotten over it and moved on from her feelings for him. But Buffy was already hurting from Riley?s rejection and Ben?s betrayal and everything else that had gone wrong in her life, seemingly all at once. She needed the reassurance of Angel?s unconditional love. When he rejected her, it brought out in her all her weaknesses: her selfishness, her insecurity, and her need to be the center of someone?s world, no matter what the cost. She drove away from Angel when she realized that he would never again be able to give her the adoration that she craved, but her realization did nothing to stop the craving, itself. And it wasn?t long before she reached some new conclusions. After all, just because Angel couldn?t love her anymore, she reminded herself as she glanced over at the vamp next to her, that didn?t mean there weren?t others who could.

Buffy still despised Spike. She always had, and she probably always would. He was a nuisance and an annoyance with the way that he whined and the way that he interfered and the way that he was both smarter and stronger than she was. Buffy was the slayer: she was supposed to be the leader. She could deal with the fact that Giles and Willow were smarter than her because they were far inferior fighters; they still needed her. But Spike was smart, cunning, and experienced. He was an excellent fighter with a brilliant mind and the only reason that she wasn?t the third slayer notch in his belt was that he had gotten impatient and she had gotten lucky, lots of times. Since Buffy couldn?t accept that Spike was, in many ways, her superior, she?d comfort herself with the knowledge that Spike was beneath her because he was a vampire. He was low, disgusting, vile. No matter what he did, he could never be the hero, not like her.

Buffy was comfortable in her hatred of him. It made her feel righteous and justified, hating him for being an evil creature. When he hated her, too, it had been perfect. It had proven, all the more, that she was right to despise him. She was the generous, noble-hearted heroine who took in even her enemy when he needed shelter, and he was the evil villain who repaid her with insults and plots against her, or the reluctant ally who only did good for the sake of the money they paid him or the threats they held over his head. The relationship they had at that point served only to reinforce her deep-seated belief that her goodness and decency made her superior to him.

But then he decided that he loved her. It threw things out of whack. She didn?t want his love. If he loved her, and he fought by her side to earn her love in return, then he was operating under principles just as noble as hers. It made her hate him all the more, that she no longer had a legitimate reason to despise him. The more he loved her, the more she convinced herself that he was disgusting and inferior, and that he could never, ever be worthy of her.

But now? now Buffy was alone and heart-broken and her ego was in shreds. Her confidence was an essential part of herself, and it had been shattered by the proof that the man she had thought would love her, literally, for eternity, had lost interest in her long ago. She needed someone to make her feel desirable again. Spike could do that. He wanted her. He looked at her like she was the most incredible woman in the world. She needed to be looked at like that, especially now. She needed to be touched with reverence, and treated with adulation, and loved with a fierce strength that would wipe out everything else. Spike was low and vile but he was hard and tight and cold and strong, and she would lower herself to his level if it meant that she could find what she needed. After ten minutes on the highway, she saw a sign for a Motel Six and without so much as a second thought, she took the exit.

A glance over at Spike in the passenger seat showed that he was fast asleep, and she used the opportunity to examine his body with clinically cold eyes. He wasn?t the body type she usually went for; Buffy preferred the tall, beefy type; but he had a lean, well-muscled frame and, she couldn?t help but notice, a good-sized bulge in his tight jeans even when he was asleep. She remembered how it had felt during Willow?s spell when they had been engaged. They hadn?t had the opportunity to do any more than a little groping, but his firm, cool hands had felt blissfully good as they traced teasing patterns on her heated skin, while his talented lips and tongue had made her tingle and the massive rod pressed against her ass when she sat on his lap had made her squirm. She knew from experience that vampire endurance meant that he could please her for hours, and the chip would ensure that he wouldn?t get carried away and take this as an invitation to use her for an all-purpose buffet.

It shouldn?t take long. She could call Sunnydale and say they had car trouble. No one would ever need to know what really happened. She could keep Spike from talking by telling him that if he mentioned a word of it to anyone, it would never happen again. (It would never happen again, anyway, but Spike wouldn?t know that.) Besides, even if he shouted it to the skies, who would believe his word over hers? She could get what she needed for an hour or two, with no consequences. She?d let Spike worship her for a little while, giving her the attention and the release that she craved, until she felt like herself again, and then she?d be able to move on with her life. Steeling her resolve, she parked the car, and exited to the lobby to get a room for the night. Once the arrangements were made, she could go back to the car and wake up Spike.

Spike, as it happened, was already awake. He had decided before they left L.A. that the best way to get back to Sunnydale undusted was not to talk to Buffy at all, so he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. A wonderful thing about being a vampire was that it was next to impossible for anyone who wasn?t very familiar with his sleeping quirks and habits to tell whether he was actually asleep or not. Buffy either bought the act or didn?t want to bother forcing him to reveal the truth, because she left him alone, to Spike?s relief. He knew that being ignored by her was about the best he could hope for on this ride. He just hoped the drive would go smoothly, and he?d be back with Red, soon. Everything would be better when he was with his Red again.

Figuring that Buffy was at least as anxious to get the trip over with quickly as he was, he was surprised to feel the car come to a stop ten minutes after they hit the highway. As far as he could remember, they had a full tank of gas when they left L.A. He supposed he could ?wake up? and ask why they were stopping, but decided it wasn?t worth it. Spike didn?t need anything from whatever gas station or fast food restaurant she had chosen to stop at, so he figured he?d keep up his sleep ruse. His resolve change, however, when soft, warm lips attacked his.

His eyes shot open in surprise and his mouth opened to ask what in hell was going on when he was faced with the sight of Buffy climbing on to his lap, straddling him in his car seat and kissing him brutally hard. Taking advantage of his open mouth, she shot her tongue down his throat for a long moment. Before he had a chance to decide whether he wanted to push her away or kiss her back, she pulled back on her own, opening the passenger side door and climbing out, over him.

?Room 212,? she stated calmly, tossing a cardboard keycard into his lap. ?Five minutes.? With that, she walked away, not giving him so much as a backward glance.

Spike sat in the car with his mouth still hanging open, trying to process what had just happened. Maybe he really had fallen asleep and this was just a dream? God knows, he?d had plenty of dreams like that, where Buffy had finally decided that she wanted to be with him. In all his dreams, he just went with it, grabbing on to her for as long as he could. But now that it was actually happening, he didn?t know how to respond. Yes, he wanted her. That was a given. He had wanted her for months. The thought of having her should have been the fulfillment of his fondest wish. So why did he feel so uneasy?

Two minutes before, his only thought had been how much he wanted to get back to Sunnydale, and there was still a part of him that wanted to do exactly that. The part of Spike that basked in Willow?s friendship and affection and would do anything to make sure that she was safe and protected was yelling at him that getting home to his Red was more important than some meaningless fling with a woman who he knew still hated him. The voice reminded him that the slayer just wanted to feel better about herself after being rejected by Angel, and that he?d played the fill-in gig for nearly a century with another Angelus-obsessed woman, and had sworn never to play it again.

But the larger part of him was unable to ignore the temptation to go up to that motel room and see just what he could find. He?d dreamt of making love to the slayer so many times that his response to the suggestion was practically pre-programmed. It was all so exactly as he had always thought it would be. She was alone, and hurting. She was turning to him: the only man who had had the balls to stick around. She needed him. Wanted him. All he had to do was walk through the door and he could have everything he?d ever dreamt of. She?d handed him the key to paradise; all he had to do was use it. Glancing at his watch, he saw that the five minutes she told him to wait had already passed. Moving on autopilot, he climbed the steps up to the second floor of the motel and arrived at the door. Inserted the key, the door clicked open easily in his hand. For a moment, he just stood in the doorway and stared.

The lights were off and the curtains were closed, but his demonically sharp eyes could see her easily. The bedspread and blankets had been shoved off the bed onto the floor and Buffy lay sprawled across the queen-sized bed with the pillows stacked behind her back, completely naked. Spike?s eyes ran hungrily over her form, taking in her tanned legs, her toned abs, her heavy breasts, and the lust evident in her eyes. The scent of her arousal filled the air and it wasn?t difficult to see why, since her fingers and cunt were already glistening from where she had started to play with herself while she waited for his arrival. Her eyes locked with his. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled her fingers out of her twat, and spread her legs wide in obvious invitation. Spike stepped into the room, let the door swing shut behind him, and started walking toward the bed.

Meanwhile, in Sunnydale General Hospital, the mysterious red-haired patient let out a nearly silent gasp of despair, causing the exhausted-looking boy dozing in the chair beside her to jump awake. Xander was hopeful at the first sign of life Willow had shown in hours, but his hope rapidly vanished as he saw the look of desperate pain painted on his friend?s face. Whatever it was that had just happened to Willow, it was more than just the fever and it had hurt her more than anything ever should. Xander tried to speak to Willow, tried to get her attention. He wanted to know what it was that was hurting his friend so badly, in the vain hope that he might be able to do something to help, but Willow seemed unaware of his presence. She was busy concentrating on her own hurt.

?Spike,? Willow whispered softly, the one word holding an infinite amount of pain.

?He?ll be here soon, Wills,? Xander replied earnestly. ?I *know* he?ll be here soon.?

Willow had been clinging to consciousness, in spite of the agony that it caused her, because she had been waiting for Spike. In spite of her delirium, she knew, instinctively, that if she let herself slide into that oh-so-tempting darkness, there was very little chance that she would ever wake up, and she couldn?t bear the thought of going to sleep forever without saying goodbye to Spike. Through the bond that tied her to him, she had felt his impatience, his eagerness to come home, and the thought that he wanted to return to her had given her the strength to fight. But then the eagerness and impatience had disappeared, replaced by a massive amount of confusion, mixed with the phantom sensation of lips that she knew must be pressed against his. A searing bolt of jealousy shot through Willow as she waited anxiously to see how Spike would respond. A few moments later she got her answer, when the confusion disappeared to be replaced by an overpowering surge of lust and anticipation.

Willow turned her head slightly to look at Xander, her eyes locking on to his, actually aware of his presence for the first time in hours. ?No,? she stated with surprising clarity. ?He won?t be coming for me now. So I won?t wait anymore.?

A single tear slid out of Willow?s eye. With her body?s depleted water resources, it was all the liquid that her body could spare, but it held in it all the bitterness of the death of her hopes and wishes. It dried rapidly on her painfully heated cheek as her eyes slid shut. Ignoring the desperate pleas of the boy beside her, she succumbed to the darkness. In the cool comfort of that infinite blackness, nothing would hurt anymore.

End Section 71

Section 72:

Spike shrugged out of his duster, not paying attention as it hit the floor. His over-shirt was next, quickly unbuttoned and tossed to the side. He reached the bed just as his hands untucked his t-shirt from his pants, and Buffy helped him lift it over his head. As soon as he was free from the shirt, her arms wrapped around his neck, attacking his lips with hers and pulling his body down to lie on top of her. He groaned at the feel of her hardened nipples pressing against his chest and the wet heat of her core as she wrapped her legs around his left thigh, rubbing herself against the denim and soaking the thick cloth. He pushed his leg against her hard, delighting in her gasp of pleasure, as he unfastened his fly to relieve some of the almost unbearable pressure against his erection.

?Did you check in with the watcher to let him know we?ll be a little? late?? Spike purred in her ear as his hands drifted down to her ass, squeezing it firmly while bringing her body into even harder contact with his thigh.

?Yessss,? she hissed as his cold mouth engulfed one aching nipple while his fingers pinched at twirled around the other. ?I left Giles a message,? she answered in a gasping voice when she got her breath back. Bucking her hips up hard against his, she used her strength to flip him onto his back. Turning around on top of him, she straddled his hips with her back to him and her ass grinding into his throbbing erection while she tugged at the laces on his boots. With her concentration focused on untying the laces in the dark, she didn?t notice the way that Spike had suddenly stilled.

?Left a message??

Buffy threw an annoyed look over her shoulder, wondering why he wasn?t taking advantage of the opportunity to grope her ass a little, or at the very least rub against her some more. ?Yeah. He didn?t answer the home phone, so I called the Magic Box and left a message on the machine. He?ll get it eventually.? She let out a little cry of triumph as she got one of his boots off, and proceeded to attack the other with the same enthusiasm. Spike, meanwhile, was far less pleasantly distracted.

he thought to himself. He hadn?t talked to Red or the watcher in two days. As a general rule, Spike didn?t much care for Giles. It was, after all, hard to really like someone who kept you chained up in their bathtub for weeks on end. But he did respect the man, and he believed that Giles would go to any lengths to stick to his word and keep his promises. Giles had promised that he?d look out for Willow and make sure that she was alright while Spike was away. But now it had been two days and Spike hadn?t been able to get a hold of either Giles or Willow. It?s possible that there were a thousand entirely innocent and rational explanations as to why neither of them were reachable and why they hadn?t returned his phone calls, but Spike couldn?t think of a single one.

?You sure he?s been getting your messages?? he asked, not noticing her annoyance at his continued questioning.

?Of course he has. Why wouldn?t he? Besides, in all the messages I left for Mom, I told her to check in with Giles, so she?d let him know, even if he didn?t get the messages.?

A flare of fear shot through Spike as he realized there was something very wrong with what the slayer had just told him. If he could just stop and think for a moment, he?d figure it out, but? Then all thoughts fled as Buffy, having finally succeeded in removing his boots and socks, spun around again on his body and eagerly jerked on the waistband of his jeans, pulling the material down to his hips. Spike let out a strangled gasp as her hands reached roughly into the parted cloth and pulled out his hard, heavy cock. There was no gentleness or consideration in her touch as she stroked him to full readiness, just hungry need that he could feel in her grip and taste in her mouth when she lowered her body on top of his for another devouring kiss. She shifted her hips, positioning the tip of him at her entrance and was about to slide down over him when his hands grabbed hold of her hips, stopping her movements.

?Wait a tic, love. You said you left a message??

?Yes, that?s right,? Buffy stated through teeth clenched in annoyance, ?I left a message.? She tried again to thrust down her hips, but Spike?s hands were unyielding, continuing to keep her from moving.

?You left a message for the watcher or for your mum??

?I left messages for each of them,? she answered with a huff of annoyance. So damn close. She couldn?t believe he was stopping her.

?You told me you had talked to your mum yesterday. You said she told you that there was nothing wrong.?

Buffy shrugged. ?So I exaggerated a bit. We were about to start fighting a gang of vampires and I had to pacify you so you wouldn?t get distracted and lose the fight for us.? Her aggravation just made her hotter and hornier and she pushed harder against Spike?s restraining hands. If she could just get him inside her, he?d stop asking question. She was convinced of it.

?That?s not my point,? Spike stated, growing aggravated with her for missing his point as his grip tightened on her hips, keeping her from moving. ?Have you talked to anyone from the Hellmouth in the past two days? Your watcher? Your mother? Any of your friends? An actual person, not a bloody machine??

?They?re busy,? Buffy gritted out as she started fondling Spike?s cock again, hoping to get him back on topic. ?We?ve talked about this before.?

?We didn?t talk about not a single member of your sodding gang answering their bloody phones!? Spike hissed. ?God, woman. You call yourself a friend! Doesn?t it *bother* you that you haven?t spoken to any of them in two days? What if they?re hurt??

?Why the hell are we talking about this?? Buffy yelled, climbing off of him to sit beside him on the bed, her arms crossed over her chest and a glare on her face. ?You?ve been panting after me for months, sneaking into my room to *sniff* my *underwear* and now that I?m finally letting you get what you want, you keep changing the subject! Don?t you want me?? she asked, her voice hard and challenging.

?You know I do,? Spike answered automatically.

?Then have me,? she answered, pressing her body against his side. Her hand snaked back between his legs, wrapping her fingers around his balls and giving them a firm tug. ?Don?t you want to fuck me?? she asked, her voice dropping again to a seductively husky tone and smiling triumphantly when he inhaled sharply at her touch. She took his gasp as encouragement and continued rubbing and squeezing his tense sacs. If she could just make him give into his natural, base instinct, she could get the fuck she needed without having to deal with any more annoying questions. Her smile grew as she noticed the increased tension in his body. It was obvious that she had him close to the breaking point. ?What else matters?? she whispered, bending over him to kiss him again.

She was completely caught off guard when Spike violently pushed her away. She tried to catch herself, but she overbalanced, landing in an unattractive sprawl across the bed as Spike yanked away from her touch and rose to his feet.

?What else matters?? he asked, his voice a combination of shock and disgust. ?Your friends and family have been on the *Hellmouth* without a slayer and they?ve been incommunicado for two days, and all you want to do is fuck? You?re the slayer, for crying out loud! What if they need you??

?What about what *I* need?? Buffy screamed in reply. Spike looked at her in disgust. This was the girl he had loved? This was the strong, vulnerable, challenging heroine he had begged to be allowed to worship? She was a greedy, spoiled, selfish girl who placed her own needs and desires above everything else, even the safety of her friends. Spike?s love for Buffy had made him see her as something higher than himself: something brilliant and glowing and perfect. He had never blamed her for the way that she treated him since he honestly believed that he was beneath her and therefore deserving of her contempt. That glowing perspective shattered as Spike felt his love for the slayer disappear. For the first time since he laid eyes on her, he saw not the powerful slayer, not the indomitable opponent, not the tantalizing enigma or the irresistible conquest or the untouchable goddess, but a fully fallible, full culpable, fully human girl. Spike?s period of worship had ended.

Spike felt his idols crumble to dust around him and had a moment of sick despair. As a human, as a demon, as the *man* that he was and always would be, all he had ever wanted was someone to love. It was physically painful for him to realize how lavishly and extravagantly he had wasted that love on an unworthy object. Then the thought of Willow hit Spike like a tidal wave and he felt disgust for himself rising up to match the new contempt he felt for the slayer. He?d been so busy looking staring at the flash and dazzle of Drusilla and then Buffy that he had completely missed the only woman of his acquaintance who was worthy of worship. His Willow, his Red, his beautiful, wonderful, adorable friend. She was the only person in his life that was truly irreplaceable.

The strength he had admired in the slayer was present in a different form in Willow, centering itself in strength of mind and strength of will and strength of courage to go into a fight without slayer powers, just because she felt it was the right thing to do. The vulnerability that had drawn him to the slayer was present in Willow in spades in her quiet insecurities and the way she automatically allowed everyone to prioritize her last, or not at all. The spirit and humor that made Buffy stand out from slayers of the past was evident in Willow as well in a sharp wit hidden under gentle comments and the unabridged enthusiasm with which she faced every task. The loyalty that Spike had observed so covetously in the slayer practically defined Willow in the way that she protected her friends and stood by them, no matter what. She matched the slayer point by point in strengths and where the slayer was weak; in matters such as compassion, patience, and understanding; Willow shone like a beacon.

He loved her, he realized. He loved her for being his friend when no one else would, and he loved her for wanting to take care of him when no one else ever had, and he loved her for being the first woman in his life to actually care about him. He loved her laugh and the brightness of her smile, and the way she bounced with excitement during her favorite parts of a movie. He loved her warmth, her humor, her intelligence, her gentleness, the way she babbled, the way she smelled, the way those green eyes of her glowed when she looked at him, and the way she made him feel valued and essential. He loved the way she felt in his arms, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her for the rest of eternity. He loved every sweet, soft, delectable inch of her. He felt like a thousand pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he relaxed into the stunning novelty of a love that actually made him happy. The last remnants of his lust for Buffy scattered into nothingness, and Spike tucked his fading erection back into his pants.

Buffy?s eyes narrowed in rage as she saw Spike refastening his jeans. ?Don?t you dare put that away, I?m not through with it yet.?

?Oh yes, you are,? Spike answered as he picked up his t-shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head. ?We?re finished here. We?re going back to Sunnydale now.?

Spike felt nothing but disgust as he looked at the naked body spread on the bed, still trying to entice him. It was a pointless attempt. The only woman in the world that Spike wanted to make love to was Willow. It didn?t matter that she didn?t want him like that. It didn?t matter that she was a lesbian and, most likely, would *never* want him like that. All that mattered was that he loved her.

On top of that, he was worried about her. It simply wasn?t like her not to return phone calls, and Spike was determined to get back to Sunnydale and make sure she was alright. The uneasiness that had been plaguing him intensified now that the fog of lust had passed, and he felt an urgent need to be with his Red. If the slayer thought he?d allow her to waste any more of his time, then she had another thing coming.

?You want me, Spike,? Buffy declared. ?You know you do.? She trailed her hand slowly down her neck to her breasts in a move that was designed to drive any man, and especially any vamp, wild with desire. It was wasted on Spike who wasn?t even looking at her as he pulled on his socks and refastened his boots.

?No,? Spike answered as he slid on and buttoned his over-shirt. ?As a matter of fact, I don?t. Congratulations, slayer. This is your lucky day. Your prayers have been answered.? He locked his eyes with hers as he spoke with slow, deliberate precision. ?I?m not in love with you anymore.?

Spike walked over to the cheap dresser and picked up what he recognized as the car keys. ?I?ll tell them at the desk that an emergency came up and we had to check out. I?ll be waiting in the car. You have ten minutes to clean yourself up and get dressed, and then I?m leaving, with or without you.? Spike slid on his duster and walked out the door, without looking back.

End Section 72

Section 73:

The drive back to Sunnydale was silent, thankfully. From the moment when Buffy slipped into the passenger seat of the car (exactly ten minutes after Spike left the hotel room and just as Spike was putting the car into reverse and preparing to leave) Buffy did not so much as open her mouth. In fact, this time Buffy was the one who pretended to be asleep, keeping her eyes and mouth firmly shut while she nursed her wounded ego and simmering rage. Spike could tell that she was faking sleep, but he wasn?t about to call her on her less than stellar act. In fact, he was grateful for it. He had nothing to say to her, and there was nothing she could say to him that he would be interested in hearing. All he wanted was to get back to Sunnydale and if Buffy was going to make things easier on him by keeping quiet, all the better.

He knew it wasn?t over, of course. She had been betrayed or rejected too many times in the past few months by men she actually cared about and every single betrayal and rejection had hurt. For her to be rejected yet again by someone she considered beneath her, someone she didn?t even *like*? it was more than she would be willing to allow. There was no way that she would take such an injury to her pride lying down. One look at the tension in her shoulders (visible despite her woefully fake ?sleeping? act) was enough to tell Spike that when they got back to Sunnydale, he was in for a thrashing he wouldn?t soon forget. The odd thing was that he didn?t much care. Buffy wasn?t a priority to him to him any longer, and he didn?t much care what she did. Her actions and opinions were no longer of importance, especially when all he could think about was Willow and the fact that she was still over an hour?s drive away.

Their little detour hadn?t cost them too much time, probably only tacking on another hour or so on to the total driving time, but Spike couldn?t stop his restless gaze from sliding over to the clock every few seconds. One hour?s delay *shouldn?t* make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, but he couldn?t shake his uneasiness. He was starting to get a very bad feeling about things.

It had been bad enough when he had been worried about her earlier, before the battle began. After all, it wasn?t like Willow not to return his phone calls and he had, at that point, spent most of the day trying to get her on the phone. But between the battle itself, sleeping off the after-effects of the battle, packing his bags, eavesdropping on the conversation between Buffy and Angel, and drinking himself into a senseless stupor for the rest of the afternoon (not to mention the time spent earlier that evening during Buffy?s misguided attempt at seduction), it had been nearly twenty four hours since the last time Spike had even *tried* to call Sunnydale, and closer to forty eight hours since Spike had last spoken to Willow.

Now that he was no longer wrapped up in the distraction of Buffy-related angst, it was starting to kick in that he hadn?t spoken to anyone in Sunnydale in nearly two days. Utter lack of communication from the Hellmouth could never be a good thing. He knew *something* had to be wrong. He just didn?t know what. Given the track record the Scooby gang had, it could, literally, be anything, and no matter how many times he told Willow to stay safe, he knew that she was a throw-herself-to-the-lions kind of girl when it came to the safety of those that she loved.

If something was putting one of her loved ones in danger, Willow would throw herself in the path, regardless of the consequences. Therefore, if something was wrong, then something was almost definitely wrong with *her*. And until he found out what exactly was wrong, and made sure that his Red was as safe as he could make her, the fact that the slayer felt the need to stew and pout and work up some energy to take out all her problems on him at some future point in time seemed singularly unimportant. He?d deal with her later. Willow was what mattered now.

In record time, they arrived at the Summers? house. Spike threw the car into park and climbed out without even turning off the ignition, fully focused on getting to the Rosenberg house as quickly as possible. He didn?t even bother getting his bag out of the trunk. He?d come back for it later. Joyce probably wouldn?t let Buffy torch it between now and then. The bad feeling in the pit of his stomach just kept building and he knew it wouldn?t go away until he got to Willow. Moving as fast as he did, it was sheer chance that Joyce was able to stop him as she came flying off the front porch.

Joyce felt her heart jump into her throat when she saw the car pull its way into her driveway and Spike step out. She had been put on porch duty ever since the sun had set, and she was enormously relieved to see that they were finally there. After Willow slipped into a coma, Xander had called everyone to let them know. Giles had gathered everyone into the hospital room and told them the truth that, up until then, only he and Joyce had known. Once they found out that Willow wasn?t likely to wake up, Dawn, Anya and Xander had refused to leave her side, determined to do everything in their power to try to convince the girl to hold on.

Joyce had wanted to stay as well, but they had realized at some point in the afternoon that Spike would have no way of knowing to go to the hospital when he got back into town. *Someone* had to be waiting in front of the Summers? house so that when Spike and Buffy returned, they could be sent straight to the hospital and Willow. It was just chance that Joyce was the one who had the shift when they arrived. For the first time in a long time, Spike caught a lucky break.

No human short of a slayer could have moved fast enough to stop Spike as he barreled out of the car and the one slayer within range was only too happy to see him go. Moving at top speed, he could have been down at the end of the block before a person even had the chance to call out to him. So it wasn?t Joyce?s movement or her voice that stopped Spike in his tracks, since there wasn?t time for either of them to reach him. Instead, he was halted solely by her scent. Pouring off of her in almost overpowering waves was the combination of her own, unmistakable aroma combined with heavy doses of both fear and despair. Smelling such pain coming off of one of the few people in the world he actually liked and respected made Spike freeze, and that gave Joyce enough time to run up to him and grab hold.

?Spike, thank God you?re here,? she whispered in a choked voice as she threw her arms around him. Spike awkwardly wrapped his arms around her as well, as much to keep her from falling as to return the embrace. Before he could open his mouth to ask her what was going on, she had grabbed hold of his hand and was dragging him back to the car, where the engine was still running. She opened the door to the backseat and shoved him in, ignoring his exclamation of surprise and confusion as she rushed over to the driver?s side and seated herself quickly, slamming the car door shut behind her. Within seconds, the car was squealing down the driveway, and then roaring down the street to the utter confusion of both Spike and Buffy, who hadn?t had a chance to get out of the car before she found it in motion again.

?Mom, what the *hell* is going on?? Buffy squealed, throwing her hands up against the window to brace herself as Joyce took a corner at a dangerously sharp angle.

?I have to get you to the hospital *now*,? Joyce replied, grim determination evident in her voice as she kept her eyes glued to the road, looking for any and every way to dodge around traffic and get to the hospital faster.

?Why? Who?s in the hospital?? Buffy demanded, immediately going into slayer mode.

?It?s Willow,? Joyce answered. ?She needs you, Spike.?

?Spike?? Buffy blurted out, before she could stop herself. ?What on earth could Willow need with *Spike*??

Joyce?s mouth opened to explain, then realized she really didn?t know what to say. She glanced into the rear-view mirror, cursing when she realized that Spike?s face wouldn?t reflect. She shut her mouth. Trying to explain the situation to Spike while operating a moving car was a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, at that moment they pulled into the hospital parking lot. Joyce jerked the car to a stop in the handicapped parking near the door. If they wanted to give her a ticket, she?d deal with it later. All that mattered at the moment was getting Spike to Willow as quickly as possible.

?It?s the bond,? Joyce stated, twisting around in her seat to face Spike. She froze for a moment when she saw him. Vampire or not, she hadn?t known it was possible for anyone to get that pale. It looked like not just his face but his entire *body* had been drained of blood. ?She needs you,? Joyce finally managed to say. ?Now. Room 305.?

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Spike was out of the car and a blur of black leather was all that was visible as he burst into the emergency stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator, and charged up the staircase three steps at a time. When he arrived at room 305, he threw the door open so hard, the doorknob lodged itself into the wall.

Dying hurt less than the pain that seared through him at the sight of Willow on the bed. Though she had only been in the hospital for a day and a half, she looked like she had been sick for months. She must have lost fifteen pounds and her face looked gaunt and pinched. Her skin was flushed with fever so overpowering, Spike could practically feel the heat of it from where he stood, but her body lay dangerously still.

?You bastard!? Dawn hissed, crashing Spike back to awareness by smacking him across the face as hard as she could, which was pretty damn hard. She wasn?t the slayer?s sister for nothing, and she had held nothing back. ?Look what you?ve done to her!?

?What did I do?? Spike whispered, stumbling over to Willow?s bed and dropping to his knees beside it. ?Red?? he asked softly, grabbing hold of her hand and holding it tightly in spite of its almost blistering heat. ?Red, what?s happened to you??

?It was the bond,? Giles replied, as tactfully as he could. His attempt at tact was wasted as Spike jerked around to face him, snarling at him in full vamp face and looking more feral than any of the gang had ever seen him, including Buffy who reached the door at that moment, along with Joyce. No one noticed them arrive as everyone?s focus was directed at the vampire who looked about to snap. Sweat broke out on Giles? forehead as he looked at the sheer fury reflected in Spike?s eyes and realized that Spike?s fangs would be much closer to Giles? throat, headache be damned, if Spike could find a way to attack Giles without letting go of Willow?s hand.

?You said the bond wouldn?t hurt her,? he growled.

?And it wouldn?t have!? Giles retorted, temper rising in spite of himself. It wasn?t his fault that he hadn?t been given all the necessary information. If anyone had bothered to keep him informed, maybe none of this would have happened. ?But no one saw fit to tell me that she gave you her blood again when you took her to L.A.!?

The anger vanished from Spike?s eyes as if someone had snuffed a candle and he turned away from Giles, focusing again on Willow.

?So now you *care*?? Dawn questioned venomously, practically spitting out the words as she approached the vampire. ?Couldn?t you have cared a few hours ago when it could have done some *good*??

?Dawn, don?t?? someone whispered, Dawn wasn?t really sure who, and a hand reached out to her shoulder to pull her back, but she jerked away from the hand and ignored the voice, stepping closer to Spike who had Willow?s hand pressed against his cheek now, holding it in place with one hand while his other hand gently stroked her limp, sweat-soaked hair.

?Do you have any idea how many times we?ve tried to reach you today? We?ve been calling Los Angeles every twenty minutes for *the past twenty-four hours* just to hear that the line?s out of service. And then when I tried calling an hour ago, do you know what happened?? Spike didn?t reply, but Dawn didn?t let that slow her down. ?I got Angel on the phone and he told me that the phone line had been out *all day long* and no one noticed until tonight, *after* you and Buffy left. She?s been lying here *dying* for you and you couldn?t be bothered to pick up the phone to call and see if she was alright? Couldn?t even drive *quickly* to get back here? Angel said the two of you left nearly three hours ago! What the hell took you so long?? Spike remained unresponsive, his eyes focused on Willow. Dawn lost what shreds of patience she had left.

Throwing herself onto the floor next to Spike she began pummeling the vampire, striking blows blindly through her tears. ?*All day long* she?s been asking for you and we kept telling her just a little longer, Willow,? Dawn struck a particularly vicious blow that Spike didn?t even attempt to block, ?just a little *longer* and Spike will be here. And I believed it! I believed that you?d be rushing back to her! I believed you actually *cared* about her! I believed it all the way up until she woke up crying a few hours ago, saying that you wouldn?t be coming for her and then she *just stopped fighting*!? Dawn?s punches trailed off, her energy slowing draining from her as anger was replaced with the more familiar ache of despair.

?What did you *do* to her?? Dawn asked in a pleading voice. ?You *promised* me you wouldn?t hurt her! You *promised*! You *prom*?? Dawn?s voice trailed off as she started sobbing too hard to do anything else. Xander was finally able to pull her away from the vampire and she ended up in her mother?s arms moment later, crying bitterly. Anya, on the other side of the room, collapsed in a sobbing heap in Xander?s arms. Giles was slumped in a chair, looking as lifeless as a puppet whose strings had been cut. Buffy was frozen in the doorway, visibly too shocked to move.

And Spike was still kneeling on the floor next to Willow?s bed. He hadn?t moved a muscle during the whole of Dawn?s tirade, not even when her fists battered his face and drew blood, except to keep tracing small, achingly gentle circles on Willow?s cheek with the tips of his fingers. He just knelt there, silent and unmoving, caressing Willow?s cheek softly and holding her scorching hand against his cheek as he wet both her hand and his own with his silent tears.

End Section 73

Section 74:

Spike might have stayed like that forever, unmoving and oblivious to everything around him, if Giles hadn?t made a very stupid choice. He tried to pull Willow?s hand out of Spike?s grip. Any attack on Spike, himself, would have gone unnoticed, but an attempt to pull him away from Willow, the woman he had only just realized he loved, could not be ignored. The human part of Spike?s mind had shut down. All that was left was pure instinct? and the demon.

Spike sprang to his feet, snarling. His vampiric features were fully in evidence as a low growl rumbled through his throat, threatening horrific pain to anyone who tried to separate him from the woman he recognized as his mate. Giles spoke in a low, soothing voice, trying to calm Spike down, but all Spike heard was an annoying buzz. His mind simply refused to process the words when all it could hear, all it could focus on, was the weak, strained sound of Willow?s sluggishly beating heart. Seating himself on the bed, he gathered Willow into his arms, pulling her close and continuing to growl at the man who was trying to separate the two of them. He wouldn?t, he *couldn?t* let her go, and he?d leave in pieces anyone who tried to get between them.

Willow?s limp body showed no resistance as he pulled her close, her face landing in the crook of his neck. They made a tragic picture, Spike with his demon visage twisted in a fierce expression of mingled pain and rage while tears continued to pour from his eyes and blood continued to spill slowly from the bleeding facial wounds Dawn had caused, and Willow, as pliant and unresponsive as a doll, looking impossibly weak next to Spike?s strength, and impossibly lifeless next to the energy he radiated. No one in the room could bear to look at Willow and see her like that, so they all focused their attention on Spike and trying to calm him down so he?d let her go.

They didn?t notice the trail of blood that slid from his cheekbone down his face, over and off the line of his jaw onto his neck and into Willow?s slightly parted lips. Spike was the first one to even become aware of it? when he felt Willow?s lips start to move against his neck, working ever so slightly against his skin to pull in the blood.

Spike?s tears stopped abruptly as his amber eyes filled with shock. For a moment, he didn?t move, then, before anyone could stop him, he reached his hand up to his neck, just next to Willow?s lips, and slashed his nails across his own throat. The blood spilled out, dripping onto his shirt, the sheets on the bed, and Willow?s white hospital gown, but it also poured itself straight into his beloved?s mouth. Willow?s mouth worked harder against his skin now, her throat muscles visibly shifting as she swallowed down mouthful after mouthful of Spike?s blood. Spike?s arms tightened around her, cuddling her closer against him while his hands stroked her hair, holding her mouth against his neck to help her to drink from him. His demon visage melted away and his voice was quiet and gentle as he whispered soft words of encouragement into her ear.

Chalk it up to shock, or fate, or instinct, or merely far too long without sleep, but none of the Scoobies made a move to stop either of them. They just stood there, stunned speechless, barely able to breathe as Willow drank from Spike. They seemed frozen in place, unable to move as they watched Willow?s eyes, the eyes they thought they?d never see again, drift open.

?Spike,? she whispered, so softly that it never would have been heard in anything less than the complete silence that blanketed the room.

?I?m here, love,? he said softly, his arms tightening around her just a fraction more. ?I?m right here with you, and I won?t leave you again.? She smiled weakly in response, nuzzling his neck a bit before letting her eyes slip closed again.

For a long moment, no one moved. Then Xander and Buffy reacted at the exact same moment, both coming to the same dead-wrong conclusion.

?You turned her, you bastard!? Xander screamed, charging toward the bed. Buffy didn?t speak, but the look of intent on her face was unmistakably clear as she pulled out a stake and headed straight toward Spike. Spike, with his arms full of Willow, wouldn?t have had a chance to react without endangering her even if he had noticed the slayer approaching. Fortunately, calmer heads prevailed. Simultaneously, Giles stepped in front of Xander and Joyce stepped in front of Buffy.

Buffy?s ingrained instinct overcame her rage as she automatically stopped at the sight of her mother in her path. No matter how many vampires or demons or hell goddesses Buffy fought, nothing was better at stopping her dead in her tracks than a single look from her mother. Xander, on the other hand, was not so easily deterred, and it took all of Giles? strength to keep him from attacking the vampire. It wasn?t until the words that Giles shouted at him finally sank in that he stopped struggling.

?Listen to the heart monitor!? Giles yelled over and over again to the raging boy. ?Just bloody listen to the damn heart monitor!? All the shuffling and struggling had easily overpowered the quiet beeping of the heart monitor machine, but when Xander stopped fighting, he finally heard what Giles was trying so hard to bring to his attention.

Just minutes before, Willow?s heart rate had been distressingly slow and strained, as if her body could barely muster the energy to stay alive. But now? now, Willow?s heart was beating louder and clearer than it had all day long. It didn?t make any sense, but it was obvious that whatever it was that Spike had done to her by feeding her his blood, he clearly hadn?t turned her. He hadn?t, apparently, harmed her at all. In fact, if the steady improvement in the sound of her heartbeat could be believed, he had somehow actually made things *better*.

?What did he do?? Xander asked, his voice barely above a whisper as if he was afraid that by referring to the improvement, he might somehow make it go away. ?Giles, what did he *do*??

?I?? Giles cleared his throat and fought the urge to clean his glasses, the way he usually did when someone asked him a question to which he did not know the answer. Truth be told, he had no idea what Spike had done. There was no record of a bonded pair exchanging blood again after the initial bonding, and consequently, there was no record of what might happen if they did. But one thing was quite certain. ?I believe Spike just saved Willow?s life.?

They all simply stood there while they processed this new information. It was, to say the least, something of a shock. When they had first discovered that Willow was sick, there had been a restless, frantic energy to all of them as they tried to find a way to save her. When they discovered what it was that was wrong with her, the energy had seemed to drain out of all of them as they settled in to watch and wait. And once Willow slipped into the coma, a part of each of them that they tried to ignore was already preparing for her death. While they exchanged words of strained optimism and hoped wildly for a miracle, they were already mentally picturing the funeral. None of them had really believed that she would live. Hoped, yes. But not believed. To discover now that she was getting *better* instead of worse and that Spike, by whatever means, had saved her life was almost too shocking to be processed. The concept that Willow actually wouldn?t die left them rather bewildered.

At that moment, the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor stopped completely, snapping each of them out of their daze and back into reality. Everyone?s eyes flew over to the bed, where they saw Willow sleeping peacefully, still breathing in and out regularly, while Spike unhooked and unplugged and detached all the various bits of machinery from her body.

?I?m getting her out of here,? Spike stated without looking up from his task, knowing their eyes were on him and knowing what it was that they wanted to know. ?I?m taking her home.?

?Spike, no!? Giles commanded, taking a step toward the vampire to stop him. He was held at bay once again by a vicious snarl.

?I?m getting her out of here,? Spike repeated in a deadly tone.

?Spike?? Joyce asked gently, relieved to see Spike?s eyes soften as they turned to her.

?She needs me,? he explained quietly. ?And I won?t leave her again. But the blinds aren?t thick enough to keep out the sunlight, and no matter how oblivious the hospital staff might be, they?ll notice if we nail blankets over the windows. She doesn?t need these machines anymore; she needs me, and I need somewhere we can go where I won?t have to leave her. If I take her home I can take care of her.?

Nodding in understanding, Joyce stepped forward and helped him detangle the cords and needles from Willow?s body. ?The nurse?s station is at the other end of the hall,? she stated conversationally as she wrapped Willow carefully in a sheet. ?They probably won?t even notice if you slip out through the emergency stairs.?

?I?ll drive you home,? Anya volunteered, knowing that they must have come in Joyce?s car and would need a lift back to the Rosenberg?s house, unless Spike wanted to carry Willow?s unconscious body through the streets half-way across town.

?I?ll come with you,? Dawn added, ?to make sure you have everything you need to get her better.?

?I?ll stay here,? Giles contributed, ?and make up some story for the hospital as to why Willow had to leave immediately.

?I?ll?? Xander started to say, then paused. ?I don?t know what I?ll do. Anya,? he asked, turning to his fiancee, ?what will I do??

?You?ll go home and get some sleep, then call later to see if there?s anything they need,? Anya informed him.

?Right,? Xander nodded tiredly. ?I?ll do that.?

Spike tenderly gathered Willow in his arms, making sure that the sheet was wrapped securely around her to protect her from a draft, and carried her to the doorway. His exit, however, was blocked.

?Out of my way, slayer,? Spike growled.

?No.? Buffy stood her ground firmly and refused to budge from the door. ?I won?t let you leave with her. Bond or not, you?re a monster and she isn?t safe with you.?

?She needs me.?

?No one could ever need you,? Buffy replied cruelly. ?She?d be better off without you. All of us would.?

?Buffy, he?s right. Willow *does* need him,? Giles interjected. ?To protect her, we need to let them go.? His eyes narrowed when Buffy did not budge. He didn?t understand the pure hostility that Buffy was directing at Spike. She had always been biased against the blond vampire, but this undiluted hatred was a new development. Giles wasn?t sure what had caused it, but he didn?t want to think of the consequences if Buffy didn?t put her feelings to the side and let Spike out.

?Buffy?? he began, but was cut off by Spike.

?Slayer, you have five seconds to step away from that door before I stop caring whether or not there?s something in my way.?

?You wouldn?t hurt me,? she sneered. ?Even if you wanted to,? she continued, her tone making it very clear that she didn?t believe he wanted to, ?you couldn?t.?

?Can?t I?? he replied.

?There?s a government chip in your head that says that you can?t.?

Spike took a step closer until they were nearly nose to nose, with only Willow?s sleeping body separating them. ?I did this to her, slayer. *I* did this. And if I?d been to hell by my own hand, it couldn?t hurt worse than how I feel, knowing I?ve done that to her. I doubt a headache would even register at this point. Move. Now.?

Buffy?s arrogant certainty faded a bit and a hint of indecision and confusion shadowed her features, but she still didn?t move. Spike?s jaw clenched, and he seemed just on the verge of knocking her out of his way when Dawn grabbed hold of her sister?s arm, jerking her to the side. Buffy, who had been completely focused on Spike, was caught off guard enough to lose her balance, making her stumble to the side. As soon as she cleared the doorway, Spike was through it, sailing toward the stairway in a whirl of black leather and white hospital sheets, without looking back. There was no reason for him to look back; the only thing in the world that mattered to him was at that moment wrapped safely in his arms.
End 74

added 12-4-04

Section 75:

Buffy was not pleased. That much was obvious to a casual observer, just from looking at her. She had that unmistakable not-pleased look in her eye, and the hazardous looking not-pleased tension in her mouth and, most importantly (and potentially dangerously), the not-pleased fists currently clenched at her sides that signaled the imminent transition from the not-pleased state to the punching-anything-within-range state. The gang knew her well enough to read these signs, and to know that they needed to get out of dodge as quickly as possible.

Anya was the first to take a look at Buffy and decide that discretion was the better (and safer) part of valor. She scurried out the door almost immediately after Spike and Willow. She snagged Xander’s sleeve on her way out and dragged him with her. The boy was too tired to pick up on the danger signals, himself, and she wasn’t about to leave him behind. She’d spent too damn much time in the hospital over the past few days; she had no desire to spend another week there visiting Xander while he recovered from too-close proximity to slayer-style wrath. Dawn was quick to follow her example. Finally, only Buffy, Giles and Joyce were left.

“You let him leave,” Buffy stated flatly.

“Yes, well… ah…” Giles stammered, trying to look for the best way to deal with this situation and mentally cursing himself for letting the other children escape so neatly. They were younger than him, damn it, they had more energy to deal with this kind of thing. He was exhausted, drained of all energy physically and emotionally from the ordeal of the past few days. Arguing with his obviously overwrought slayer was more than he was prepared to handle at the moment. “Spike was quite right, of course, when he said that letting him be near Willow was the best way for her to heal just now, and Willow’s home is much more practicable for allowing that closeness—”

“You let him leave,” Buffy repeated.

“He did seem to have the situation under control,” Giles continued, trying to make her understand, “and there isn’t really any possible way to explain his… method of treatment to the doctors here. I’m quite confident that Spike will take care of Willow. It isn’t as if she’s in any danger now.”

“Of course she’s in danger,” Buffy snapped. “He’s dangerous and she’s with *him* because *you* let him leave!”

“Yes,” Giles answered firmly. “I let him leave. And I don’t regret it.”

“Are you *out* of your *mind*?” Buffy screeched. “This is *Spike*! Since when do we trust him? Since when do we believe in him? Since when can we count on him to do the right thing when it comes to us, or take care of anyone, or care about anything other than himself? Since when…”

It was on the tip of Buffy’s tongue to ask, ‘since when does everyone side with Spike instead of me’ but she held it back. Even in her rage, she knew it sounded petty and childish, and that wasn’t how she wanted to sound. She wanted to sound strong and reasonable and capable. She wanted to be the slayer that her friends trusted and believed in, the leader of the group that everyone counted on to take care of the problems and fix things that went wrong. And most of all, she wanted to know how *Spike* had become the one that everyone believed in and trusted, instead of her.

Her mouth closed with a snap and she mentally cursed Spike yet again for somehow twisting the situation so that she was always in the wrong. She didn’t want to yell at her watcher and her mother. She didn’t want her closest friends and her little sister to practically sprint out of the room because they were afraid of her temper tantrums. She didn’t want Angel to… no, she couldn’t let herself think about Angel. This wasn’t about Angel, or what had happened in Los Angeles. This was about Spike and how everything he did made everything in her world that she counted on go askew. She didn’t know what had happened to Willow, but she knew that it was because of the bond that Spike had *forced* upon her, and that meant that it was Spike’s fault. So why was everyone handing Willow over to Spike like a bagful of take-out Chinese? Why were they stopping *her* when she all she did was try to stop him and protect her friend? Why was Spike supposedly always right these days, leaving her no option when she opposed him but to be always wrong?

“He can’t be trusted,” Buffy argued stubbornly. “Just because you *think* he cares about her doesn’t mean he actually does, you know. Or even if he does, he could change his mind. He’s a soulless demon and he’s not *capable* of really caring for anyone, or being there for someone when they need him. We can’t just leave Willow with him! It’s *his* fault that she’s like this in the first place and so help me, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to take him out of the picture. I don’t care about the chip in his head or that it isn’t a fair fight. He’s made enough trouble for us and I *refuse* to put up with it any longer. If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have been able to make him into a nice pile of ashes just now and then we would *never* have had to deal with him again, and—”

“Buffy, stop.” Joyce’s voice was quiet but commanding.

“But Mom—” Buffy tried to argue.

“No, Buffy. Stop.” Joyce’s eyes flickered over in the direction of Giles, and Buffy turned her head to face him as well. She blanched at bit at what she saw. She’s seen Giles angry before, most recently when she argued with him about going to L.A., but it had been a long time since she had seen him look so enraged.

“You have no idea,” Giles stated in a low, deadly voice, “what we’ve been through in the past few days. You have no idea what it was like watching Willow get weaker and weaker as the fever literally ate away all of her strength. You can’t conceive what it was like for us to watch her slip into a coma and know that the odds were infinitesimally small that she would *ever* wake up again. Whatever your snit is against Spike, it ends now. Willow’s safety is more important than your petty problems. He saved her life and right now, he’s the only thing keeping her alive. If you take so much as a single step in his direction, I will use everything in my power to stop you and I can guarantee, you will *not* like the results. If you have problems with Spike, get over them, or Willow actually *will* die this time and none of us will ever fully be able to forgive you. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” Buffy answered hesitantly, sounding very much like a scolded child. She didn’t agree with Giles’ point of view; yes, Spike might have saved Willow, but she wouldn’t have *needed* saving if it wasn’t for Spike. How could it possibly be *good* for Willow to be around him right now? How could they trust him to take care of her? Buffy wanted badly to argue her point, but she knew from experience that this version of Giles was not to be trifled with. She could tell that talking any further would not go far to convince Giles of her point of view. But her inherent stubbornness insisted that she made one more attempt to get him to see reason. “But Giles—” she attempted.

“Not. Another Word. Any anger you want to work off, go take it out on the local vampire community. Do not come back until you have spent at least an hour on patrol. And if I find that you made the slightest attempt to take out your aggressions on Spike. I. Will. Be. Very. Displeased. Now go.”

Buffy made an irate huffing sound before stomping out the door. Giles and Joyce stood silently and watched her go.

“Is it wrong for me to feel just a little sorry for the vampires who will meet her on patrol?” Joyce asked out of the blue, a few moments later.

“Wrong, perhaps,” Giles answered, sighing as he pulled out a handkerchief and began meticulously cleaning his glasses, “but certainly understandable.”

Joyce looked at Giles. Giles looked at Joyce.

“I need some coffee,” Joyce volunteered.

“I need a drink,” Giles muttered in reply. Joyce laughed out loud, the sound startling both of them. None of them had laughed in the past few days. It sounded a little strange. Not bad, and certainly not unwelcome, but strange, nonetheless.

“Let’s get out of here,” Joyce suggested when the last of her giggles faded away.

Giles smiled. “Would you… ahem…” Giles blushed a bit, “would you do me the honor of allowing me to take you out for a celebratory dinner? I do believe that the occasion calls for it.”

Joyce’s smile grew. “I agree,” she answered, stepping closer to him and taking his arm when he offered it. “And I accept.”

“What will we tell the nurses?” she asked as they headed down the hall.

“Let’s tell them that Willow was kidnapped by her bond-mate vampire so that he could heal her through an elaborate blood ritual. With any luck, the Sunnydale denial syndrome will kick in and it will go in one ear and out the other. We’ll be gone before they think to ask again.”

Joyce nodded sagely. “Good plan.”

“And do you know the most wonderful part?” Giles added as they approached the nurses station.

“What’s the most wonderful part?” Joyce asked, obediently.

“They won’t be able to ask us for further clarification when we return, since we won’t be coming back.”

Joyce grinned at him and squeezed his hand. He was right; that was the most wonderful part. After two of the most nerve wracking days of her life, knowing that the tension and the pain and the fear were over, for now, and that she and her children were home and safe and protected once again was, indeed, the most wonderful part.

End Section 75

Section 76:

It made a kind of funny image, Anya noted to herself, glancing away from the road to look in the rear view mirror. According to the mirror, Willow was floating very gently a few inches above the cushion of the backseat while her hair shifted back and forth for no discernible reason. The mirror didn’t show the vampire who had wrapped himself completely around the girl, forming a protective shield around her to brace her against any bumps in the road, one arm covering the length of her back to hold her pressed against him and the other hand buried in her hair, stroking it gently. The mirror didn’t show the way his hands were shaking slightly for the first time in a century over how close he came to losing her. And the mirror certainly didn’t show the delicate movements of his lips as he alternated between soft words whispered in her ear and even softer kisses pressed against her feverish skin, using every means in his power to assure the unresponsive girl that he would take care of her, make her well once more, and never, *ever* leave her again.

Spike focused on Willow as if he could make her well again by sheer force of will and his concentration on her was unwavering… except for when the car hit a bump or hole in the road. The rear view mirror didn’t show his reaction to that, either, but Anya didn’t need a mirror to hear his growl of annoyance or to remember his all-too-obviously sincere threat to Buffy in the hospital. No chip would hold him back tonight from eliminating anything he saw as a threat to Willow. Angering Spike when he was in this state was a Very Bad Idea, and telling him that it wasn’t her fault that Sunnydale spent so much of its municipal money on cemeteries that it didn’t have enough to keep the roads in good repair wouldn’t do any good. Fortunately, the drive to the Rosenberg house was short.

Just as soon as Anya pulled into the driveway and put the car into park, before she even had a chance to turn off the engine, Dawn was out of the car and rushing for the front entrance, eager to hold the door open for Willow and Spike. Of course, with his vampiric strength and dexterity, Spike would probably have been able to open the door and carry Willow at the same time without any outside assistance, but Dawn wanted badly to be helpful. After spending all those hours holding Willow’s hand in the hospital room, watching Willow’s face twist in pain and knowing there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to make it better, it was such an overwhelming relief to have something happen that actually made things *better*. Anything she could do to make it easier for Spike to help Willow, she was ready, willing, and incredibly eager to do.

She needn’t have rushed. Spike’s usual shocking speed had vanished as he moved toward the door with almost glacial slowness and deliberation, carrying Willow like she was made of crystal that could shatter in his arms at any moment. Dawn had the incongruous thought that Spike was carrying Willow like a bride, holding her impossibly gently as he lifted her over the threshold and into the house. She shook the thought out of her head once they cleared the doorway, racing ahead of them up the stairs to make sure that the path was clear to Spike’s bedroom.

Dawn shuddered as she stood in the doorway of Spike’s room and her eyes fell on the bed. It was still unmade from just a few days before, when Dawn had found Willow there, burning up with fever. That had been one of the worst days of her life. Willow was one of the constants in Dawn’s life: someone she counted on to always be strong and capable and there for her, no matter what. Finding Willow hurting and helpless with nothing to be done about it had been beyond terrifying. Tears pricked at her eyes as she thought about what they all had been through for the past few days. While the relief of knowing that Willow would be alright had left her faintly euphoric, it couldn’t cancel out the strain and tension from nearly two solid days of worry and fear.

She was knocked out of her memories when Spike and Willow reached the room, gently nudging Dawn aside so Spike could lay Willow on the bed. He sat unmoving on the corner of the bed for a long moment, with his hand pressed against Willow’s cheek. That sight was all it took to push the frightening chill of the memory out of Dawn’s mind. Willow looked far worse than she had when Dawn had first found her; she seemed to have lost close to fifteen pounds in just the past few days (pounds her already thin body couldn’t easily spare) and her face was chalky white; but with Spike hovering over her like a black-leather guardian angel, Dawn knew that Willow was safe. Nothing would hurt her now. The Angel of Death himself would have a hell of a fight trying to get Willow away from Spike.

Spike looked… well actually, Spike looked kinda scary. He wasn’t quite in vamp face, but there was a tightness to his jaw and a flickering of amber in his eyes that made it clear that the demon was more than willing to come out if anything should prove itself a threat to Willow’s safety. His expression was fierce, made even more frightening by the dried on blood from the scratches Dawn had inflicted. Willow had removed all the traces of blood from Spike’s neck, but his face was still bloodstained. Stepping quietly out of the room, Dawn headed for the bathroom, digging out a washcloth and soaking it in warm water. Heading back into the bedroom, she noticed that Spike had not stirred so much as an inch. He showed no sign of awareness that she had left the room in the first place, much less that she had returned.

Slowly and tentatively, remembering the way that Spike had reacted to Giles approaching him in the hospital, Dawn approached the pair. Spike didn’t react as she stepped closer. He didn’t react when she placed her hand on his shoulder. He still didn’t react when she lifted her hand to his face. The only sign he gave that even acknowledged that she was there was his soft sigh of annoyance when she tried to turn his face away from Willow to face her.

Realizing that there was no way she was going to be able to get him to take his eyes off of Willow, Dawn compromised by edging herself into the small corner of space between Spike and the bed. Slowly and carefully, she lifted the washcloth to his face, afraid of what his reaction would be. She should have known better. There was no reaction. He didn’t say a word or move a muscle as Dawn cleaned the blood off of his face and dabbed gently at the shallow scratches she had inflicted less than an hour before. After a few minutes, she was satisfied that she had done as thorough a job as she could, and stepped back away from the vampire. She was headed to the bathroom to rinse out the washcloth when she was halted by the sound of Spike’s voice.

“I’m sorry I broke my promise to you, Nibblet.”

Dawn thought about it for a moment before responding. She was sorry he had broken his promise, too. She was sorry that her friend had been hurting, and she was sorry that Spike had been the cause of it. She was also not the least bit sorry that she had attacked him when he entered the hospital room. After the way that Willow had suffered, Spike deserved a bit of pain. But in spite of that…

“I know you are,” she answered, her voice calm and steady for the first time in what felt like weeks. “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen, and I know that you’re sorry that it did.” There. She had said it. She wasn’t *quite* ready to forgive him for all that he had put Willow through, but she would acknowledge that he was, at least, very truly and sincerely sorry for it.

“Do you want me to promise I won’t hurt her again?”

Spike’s voice sounded strangely vulnerable. Again, Dawn thought carefully before formulating a response. “No,” she answered at last. “You can’t promise a thing like that. You never know what might happen. Just… just promise me that you’ll try to keep her from getting hurt.”

“I promise,” Spike whispered. “I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that she doesn’t get hurt, ever again.”

“I believe you.”

A brief flash of something that resembled a smile slid across Spike’s face, but faded as quickly as it appeared. For several long moments, there was nothing but silence and stillness in the room. Dawn became increasingly uncertain what she should do. She and Spike had settled their differences, and didn’t really have anything else to say to each other. And now that they were reconciled, she couldn’t think of anything else that she could do.

She wanted to stay and help and make Willow better, but she knew there wasn’t really anything that needed to be done. At least, there wasn’t anything that needed to be done that *she* was capable of doing. All Willow needed now was rest and time and Spike. And it was quite obvious, from the way he was looking at her, the way he was touching her, and the way he was focusing every ounce of his attention on her, that there was nothing Spike needed other than Willow. Dawn felt very superfluous. She had just made up her mind to inch quietly to the door and give the two of them some privacy when Spike spoke.

“Bit, could you go over to the dresser and pull the swim trunks out of the second drawer? They should be stuffed in the back somewhere.”

Dawn brightened as she rushed over to the dresser. Yes, she could do that! She could help! She could be useful! She could get swim trunks! Digging enthusiastically into the drawer, she rooted around until she felt the distinctive silky material, fishing them out (rolling her eyes when she noticed they were black; typical Spike) and turning around with a triumphant smile on her face.

The smile became obscured when her jaw dropped nearly low enough to bang against the floor. Spike was… he had… there was… lots of Spike… *all* of Spike actually, with, um, nothing hiding any of him. Naked Spike. Really, completely, thoroughly naked Spike. Bare as the day he was born from the top of his bleached head to his naked chest, uncovered waist, exposed hips and… and… oh dear Lord, that equally unclothed part of him just below his waist that Dawn couldn’t quite manage to take her eyes off of.

The temptation to stare was just too strong. She’d never seen a naked man before in person (and with her over-protective sister ready to bring the wrath of the slayer on any hapless boy who asked her out, who knew how long she would have to wait before she could see a naked man again?) and Spike was… quite a lot of man. Pouting mentally, she wondered why all the guys who had fallen in love with Buffy were all built like porn stars while the only guy who showed any interest in her was Josh Graham in her French class with the horn-rimmed glasses and the habit of sniffing glue.

Fortunately, at that moment Spike’s full attention was totally focused on Willow, his eyes glued to her face while his hand continued cupping her cheek, running his thumb softly over her still-feverish skin. This kept him from noticing Dawn’s scrutiny, along with her growing inclination to drool.

“Found those trunks yet, bit?”

“Um… yeah,” Dawn stammered. “R-right here. You, um, you know that you’re naked… right? I mean, you did notice that, didn’t you?”

In spite of himself, Spike felt his lips quirk into something resembling a grin. “Yeah, Nibblet. I noticed. That’s what the trunks are for. Red needs as much contact with me as she can get right now, and skin on skin is best. Jeans would only get in the way if I left them on. Those trunks you’ve got there are the closest thing I have to underwear. Wouldn’t want my girl to be embarrassed when she wakes up.”

Dawn’s eyes slipped over to the pile of clothes Spike had left on the floor when he stripped. Duster, boots, socks, jeans, undershirt, overshirt and nothing else. That meant that underneath the jeans, he had been… and if she understood him correctly when he said that the swim trunks (that he obviously never wore) were the closest thing he had to underwear, then that meant that *every* time she saw him for as long as she had known him, all he had underneath his jeans was…

“Embarrassed?” Dawn squeaked. “Yes! Right! Embarrassed. *Willow* might be embarrassed to see you… to see your… um…” Dawn’s voice trailed off. ”

“The trunks, Nibblet?” Spike interrupted, reaching out a hand for the garment with even more of a grin on his lips.

Dawn handed them over with a squeak before rushing for the door, muttering something about going downstairs to get a pitcher of water for Willow in case she was thirsty when she woke up. Spike chuckled as he heard her scurry down the stairs, barely catching a remark made under Dawn’s breath about how waking up with *that* in her bed would certainly make *her* mouth go dry, before returning his focus to Willow. Slipping on his trunks, he slid into bed beside her, wrapping the blankets securely around the two of them. With surprising delicacy, he peeled away the sheet he had wrapped her in, leaving her in only the insubstantial hospital gown. Once that was done, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her fully against his body.

“You’re safe now, love,” Spike whispered into her ear as he cuddled her close. “Safe and sound, and I’m right here to make sure that nothing will hurt you again. I won’t let it. I’d rather die again than let you get hurt.” Tears pricked in his eyes at the same moment that a soft smile quirked on his lips when he felt Willow snuggle closer to him, even in her sleep. Analytically, he knew that the bond would cause her to seek him out and get as close to him as she could, but he allowed himself the luxury of fantasizing for just a moment that she nestled closer because she *wanted* to be close to him, just like he wanted to be close to her. He tightened his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes and willing the pleasant fantasy to last.

End Section 76