** See full notes in Chapter 1

***  Big thanks to Lisa and Jenn for being wonderful substitute/emergency  betas for me.  Thank you so much!

**** Happy Holidays everyone!  I wish everyone a safe, peaceful and joyful Holiday Season.
 

It's About Time  ~ Chapter 19

"That went well, don't ya think, Red?"

Willow gave Spike her not-amused look.  Even though she realized the disastrous events of the evening weren't really his fault, she wasn't in the mood to make jokes about it quite yet.  They'd been standing outside The Bronze for several minutes, waiting to see if Willow's friends were going to follow her to Slayer Central where they could discuss her relationship with Spike more privately. So far none of them had come out.

Spike frowned and kicked at the pavement with an already scuffed boot.  "Sorry, pet.  While that was probably a bit painful for you, have to admit that I found a certain sadistic charm to the evening."

Willow managed a slight smile this time.  At least Spike was honest.  "Glad I could entertain you...again," she grumbled good-naturedly.

What the hell had happened to her plans for a drama-free night, anyway? Instead it had turned into something resembling a badly written episode of Dawson's Creek.

Willow sighed as she looked back at the Bronze.  A few people were filing through the front doors, but there was still no sign of Buffy or the others.  They'd come though.  She was sure of that.  More likely than not, they were probably dreaming up some sort of battle plan.  Or reviving Xander.  Or both.

Remembering the betrayed looks of her friends, Willow shivered. The wind was beginning to pick up, and it felt as if the temperature had plummeted ten degrees in the short time she and Spike had been waiting outside.

"Let's get moving, pet.  They'll be along soon enough."

Willow gave The Bronze one last glance before starting the relatively short walk toward Slayer Central.  Spike fell in at her side.

"What happened, Spike?" she asked after they turned the first corner.  "How'd Xander figure *us* out?"

The blond vampire shrugged as he lit a cigarette, cupping his hands to shield it from the stiff breeze.  "Not sure, pet.  Xapper just stormed over, gave me the typical 'you're not good enough for *my* Willow' speech--you know, the same old rubbish Angel gives me every bloody chance he gets--then suddenly the git's demanding to know what type of relationship we have."

Willow came to an abrupt halt as Spike was slipping the lighter back in his pocket.  "*My* Willow?" she repeated.  "*My* Willow?  He actually said that?"

"Well, the boy said both 'my' and 'our' a lot.  Sorry, can't give you an exact count.  Stopped paying attention after a while.  May 'ave even dozed off a bit.  That Xapper's not the most entertaining bloke."

"Not, Xapper--er, *Xander*--I meant Angel! You must have misheard him, Spike.  Angel doesn't think of me as 'his' anymore."

Spike actually sighed as he twirled around to face her.  "Oh, right...because your perfect Angel's not a vamp anymore, right?  Sorry, pet, but it's in his blood, even blood as weak and watered down by a soul as his.  Can't really help it, I suppose.  To the poof's credit, though, he always corrects himself after he growls 'She's mine!' or the like.  Wanker gets all stammery and contrite."

Another icy chill seeped slowly along Willow's spine.  "He really said that, Spike?  Angel really said I was *his*?"

"Heaps of times, Red," he said through an exhale of silvery smoke.  His eyes narrowed.  "Don't tell me that lot has you disbelieving me already?"

"No, no.  Of course I believe you, Spike," Willow quickly replied, hoping he couldn't hear the doubt and confusion that she was feeling. After all, so far, Angel had never tried to play upon the ceremony that had made her belong to Angelus in the vampiric world.  Willow frowned.  No, that didn't sound like Angel at all.  Angelus, sure.  But Angel?

"Don't fret, pet.  Maybe the great poof didn't mean anything by it.  Just talking out of his arse, as usual.  As for the boy," Spike continued, "I didn't give him a straight answer.  None of his bloody business, right?  But he pulled a stake on me anyway.  You saw the rest."

Willow wrapped her arms tightly about herself, trying to ward off the increasing chill.  "This was *so* not how I wanted tonight to go."

Spike dropped his cigarette to the ground then slipped out of his duster.  "It's okay, Red," he said, easing his coat onto her shoulders and pulling it snug.  "We had fun while it lasted, but I suppose you're right.  Should've gone elsewhere."

Willow started walking again, although there was still no sign of the others behind them.  "It's not your fault, Spike.  I guess I can't expect these two different halves of my life to fit together so easily.  It's a chalk and cheese sorta thing."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, pet.  You thought they finally caught on to the little fact that you're an intelligent adult, capable of making your own choices and have been for quite a while now.  But obviously that hasn't sunken in to their gray matter yet."

"Guess not."

"Look, Willow, they're bloody juveniles, remember?  Just a bunch of spoiled kids, really.  There's more than a century's difference in your ages now.  It's understandable that you lot don't have the closeness you once did.  The kind of trust we have.  The friendship.  There's bound to be some distance.  I'd be more worried if there wasn't.  It'd mean you hadn't matured much over the last century."

Willow frowned, her eyes fixed on the pavement passing beneath her feet.

"Bloody hell, I sound like a wally.  Just forget I ever said any of that rot, Red.  They'll take my 'big bad vamp' card away.  Kick me out of the union."

Willow barely heard his joking comments.  She was still thinking about everything else he'd said about Angel and the Scoobies.

"Come on, Red," Spike said, gently nudging her with his elbow.  "Cheer up.  I'm probably wrong about the Scabby Gang.  I suppose if you're willing to pay the price, soon things 'll be right as rain between you lot again."

"What do you mean?  What price?"

Spike shrugged.  "Nothing, Red.  Never mind."

Willow latched on to his arm and pulled him to a stop beside her.  "Please, Spike.  No more games tonight."

Spike glanced down at where her hand gripped his sleeve.  He pulled away from her touch.  "I'm not the one playing games, Red.  Look, I don't think you're ready to hear it yet."

Her patience ran out.  "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.  "Just say what's on your mind, Spike.  I don't think I can take anymore of this tonight, not from you."

"Fine, pet," he shot back.  "It's obvious, to me anyway, that you can't be yourself with Buffy and that lot.  They won't accept you, not completely anyway.  Tonight's little fiasco's proof of that."

Willow stepped back from the force of his words.  "No."  Willow shook her head adamantly.  Spike had it all wrong.  He just didn't understand that these sorts of things didn't happen overnight.  Besides, he didn't quite see straight when it came to the gang.  "It's...it's just going to take time, that's all," she told the vampire.  "You can't rush these kinds of things."

"Have things improved since your big bloody heart-to-heart a fortnight ago?"

"Sure."

Spike smirked.  "If tonight was improvement, I'd hate to see what the wankers put you through on a bad night."  Now Willow felt like crying.  It must have showed in her eyes, because Spike's face softened.  He chucked her gently under the chin. "Look, Willow, we both know I'm probably the last person who should be giving you advice about the Scabby Gang.  I'm a wee bit biased."

She attempted a smile at his candor.  "Really?  Hadn't noticed."

"Cheeky cow.  All I'm asking is wouldn't you rather be sitting in a smoky pub, trying to make an inside straight or bluffing on a bloody useless hand right now?"

Willow tried to laugh off his question but found she couldn't.  In fact, it was a little scary just how appealing his alternative sounded.  "You always ask trick questions," she grumbled as she walked away.

"Not trick questions, pet.  Just...insightful ones."

"Ooh, bonus points for good word usage, Spike," Willow said, forcing a degree of lightness to her voice.

"You've been rubbin' off on me, Red," he said as he caught up to her.  "Good influence 'n all that rubbish."

"Guess I should have seen this coming," she admitted after they walked in silence for a while longer.  "It's my own fault for not telling the truth the moment I woke up on Angel's couch."

"What happened to the difference between being secretive and having a little privacy?" Spike retorted.  "But, I guess if you lot always share everything with each other, know every disgusting detail of each other's love life, then I suppose it's only fair that they know yours.  Not that yours is disgusting, mind you."

"Um, yeah...exactly."  Willow quickened her pace, as if she could out distance the sinking feeling that was rapidly growing within.  She wasn't about to tell Spike that in all honesty, she hardly knew any of the juicy details of her friends' love lives in *either* time line.  Not only did she have no idea how far Xander and Cordelia's relationship had taken them physically, now or then, but the original Buffy had never been all that eager to tell the intimate details of her relationship with the original Angel either.  Sure, they'd slept together, but that's about all Willow knew.

So much for sharing.

"So...," Spike was saying coolly, "Guess I can almost see why they think they deserve to know all the ins and outs of your love life, so to speak.  Doesn't bother me if you tell them.  I've got nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of."

That got her attention, and yet again Willow stopped walking to look Spike straight in the face.  "Spike, you know I'm not ashamed of what happened between us in London."

Spike looked away, giving her a clear view of tightened jaw muscles.  Tightened jaw muscles meant only one thing: Spike was not happy.

Willow tilted her head, leaning into Spike's line of sight, making him look her in the eye again. "Spike, I've never been ashamed of sharing myself with you in any way.  Never have been and never will be."

Spike didn't reply at first.  He studied her face like they were seated across from each other at a poker table.  He didn't know whether to believe her or not, Willow realized.  Spike doubted her!

"Spike, this is me talking," she pleaded, taking his hand and squeezing it.  "I'm not ashamed, understand?"

His jaw relaxed and he even gave her a little smile, but she could still see some doubt in his eyes.  "Understood, pet.  Now let's get you home."

He offered his arm, which Willow took.  They walked the rest of the way in silence, with Willow snuggling more deeply into the warming comfort of Spike's leather duster.  When they arrived at Slayer Central, she took a seat on the front steps to wait for the others.  Spike wouldn't be welcome in Angel's home, but Willow wanted him around for at least a little while.  Not only for emotional backup, but just to help prove to the others how close they really were, and prove to Spike that she wasn't ashamed of him.

As they waited, Willow spent the time calming herself and preparing for the inevitable questions, but Spike's earlier words were niggling in the back of her mind, making it hard to relax.  Spike made himself comfortable next to Willow on the second step from the bottom and lit another cigarette.

About ten minutes later, Buffy, Cordelia and Xander appeared as they rounded the last corner.  Not so coincidentally, Giles' car screeched to a stop at the front curb.  He and Jenny jumped out just in time to join the teenagers as they marched up the sidewalk.

"Bloody hell," Willow mumbled under her breath at their approach.  "It looks like an intervention."

Spike snickered.  "I was thinking more like the Spanish Inquisition myself."

Willow stood but Spike maintained his easy pose on the step.  "I see you called in reinforcements," she said with a small, welcoming smile for Jenny and Giles.

"Good evening, Willow," Giles said, looking more awkward than she could ever remember.  He glanced at Spike, as if to say hello to him as well, then frowned, apparently thinking better of it.  "Yes, well, Buffy called and, er, *requested* that Jenny and I meet all of you here to discuss certain...matters."

"Requested?"

"More like demanded, actually."

Buffy at least had the decency to look a little sheepish.  "I thought everyone should be here, Willow.  This concerns all of us."

Spike chuckled and leaned toward Willow.  "Didn't know your sharing included the musty watcher, too," he said for her ears only.  "Whatever floats your boat, Red."

Willow pretended not to have heard him.  "Does this really concern everyone, Buffy?"  Hopefully that didn't mean Angel was on his way as well, Willow thought to herself. She had enough on her plate at the moment without Angel and Spike going at each other again.

"Don't worry, Willow," Jenny said.  "Giles and I are here in more of a mediating capacity.  We're not here to judge."

"Not me," Xander chimed in.  "I'm here to judge."

Buffy smiled, as if to say, "Me too!"

"Why are you wearing Spike's coat, Willow?" Cordelia asked unexpectedly.    "It's way too big for you, so does this mean you two are going steady or something?"

Willow had forgotten she was even wearing his duster. "I was cold.  He's a gentleman."

Xander laughed.

"Look, Willow," Buffy continued.  "We were talking on the way here, and we're thinking this could be one of those 'thrall' things."  Xander and Cordelia nodded in agreement.  "You were probably under Spike's spell when you, er, slept together.  You know, like you see in all the Dracula movies."

Giles cleared this throat, raising a finger in protest.  "May I just remind you that Jenny and I had absolutely nothing to do with this particular theory."

Willow nodded understandingly at the librarian before turning her attention back to Buffy.  "There was no thrall involved," she said in a firm tone.  "It was sex.  Lust.  I trusted Spike, and I wanted him.  Yes, *I* wanted him, he wanted me and eventually we both quit fighting it.  It was inevitable."

"Inevitable?" Xander barked.  "Okay, I can see how over a century you may have had to sleep with *somebody* but not Spike!"  His fists were balled at his sides, his knuckles white.  Willow couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Xander so angry. "Jack the Ripper would have been a better choice!"

"Jack the Ripper wasn't even born yet, Xander, but I'm so glad you'd rather see me mutilated than happy."

"Besides, ol' Jack fancied prostitutes," Spike added casually.  "Don't think Red would've been quite his cup of tea."

Xander took a few steps closer to Willow and gestured hopelessly at the blond vampire. "Are you telling me *that* made you happy, Willow?  *Spike* made you happy?"

Willow glanced down at Spike.  He was looking up at her, not with a smirk or a gloating grin but with an expectant smile.  For all Spike's teasing, Willow sometimes wondered if he thought back to their time spent together in London with the same fondness that she did. Long days spent in bed, long nights spent talking about anything and everything until she practically fell asleep in mid-sentence.  Maybe it hadn't been love, but before that stage of their relationship had come to its inevitable unhappy conclusion, it had been some of the best weeks of her long life.

As if reading her thoughts, Spike winked at her.

"For a short time," she said to the others, "I think we made each other very happy."

This announcement brought about a lot of uncomfortable shifting and strange looks from the others, as well as a long silence.

"Well, at least you didn't let him bite you," Buffy finally grumbled, obviously searching for any hint of a bright side to Willow's revelation.

Here we go again, Willow thought to herself.  Just when I got them calmed down, too.  "When you have sex with a vampire, Buffy, even pseudo-sex, biting is usually involved," she informed them all without hesitation. Maybe that would prove to Spike that she wasn't ashamed of him.

"If the sex is any good, that is," Spike added.  "Which believe me, it was."

Willow didn't have to look at the vampire to know that this time he *was* smirking.  Buffy, on the other hand, had little trace of humor on her face as she stormed up to where Willow stood at the base of the steps.

"You mean, Spike's bitten you?  You *let* him bite you?"  Her eyes were already roaming over the exposed areas of Willow's neck.  To make it even easier for The Slayer, Willow reluctantly slid out of Spike's duster.

"It was a long time ago, so the bites have healed, of course," she said, tilting her head to the side. "But if you look close you can still see..."

She stopped speaking as Buffy's eyes widened with horror.  "I can't believe I didn't notice them before.  What's wrong with you, Willow?"  Buffy demanded brusquely.  "This is *Spike* we're talking about here.  A vampire.  A killer!"

Willow's eyes flashed at Buffy's patronizing tone.  "Oh, *that* Spike!" she growled in frustration.  "And all this time I thought we were talking about Spike the professional bowler.  Thanks for clearing that up, Buff."

Spike chuckled when Buffy actually took a step back from Willow's retort, as if the redhead had slapped her.  "Told you they wouldn't understand, Red," he said softly.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Cordelia asked as Xander strode up to Willow to took a good long look at her throat as well.

"I guess I had this silly idea that you might not understand."

"Does Angel know you've slept together?" Xander demanded, backing away from Willow as if she were contagious. "Because I can't believe he didn't kill Spike the moment he found out."

"Angel knows," Willow quickly answered before Spike could retort.  "I think he even understands."

"Is that true, Angel?" Buffy asked, looking over Willow's shoulder. "Do you really understand this mess?"

Willow spun around.  Angel was on the landing at the top of the stairs.  Bloody hell, Willow thought to herself.  How long had he been there?

"Yes, I understand completely," Angel said, looking at Willow.  His dark eyes were filled with regret, instead of anger.  Willow's hopes rose a fraction. Maybe he really did understand.

Finally getting to his feet, Spike seemed unconvinced.  "You do?" he asked as Angel slowly descended the steps towards them.

Angel stopped at the tread above Spike's, turning his attention to the vampire.  "It's understandable that after all that time alone, living among strangers in an unfamiliar time and place, that Willow would be in need of many things and that you, Spike, were more than happy to take advantage of the situation."

The sinking feeling returned.  Angel was still blaming Spike for everything.    "It wasn't like that," Willow told them all.  "He didn't take advantage of me.  I knew what I was doing."

"Willow," Angel began calmly, "it wouldn't be the first time Spike manipulated a situation and all the people in it.  He can easily have you think you're making your own decisions when actually he's the one pulling all the strings.  Isn't that right, Spike?"

"Think what you bloody-well like, mate," Spike said, dismissing Angel with a wave of his hand.  "Whatever gets you through those long and lonely nights."

"Speaking of lonely nights, Spike-my-boy, where's your precious Drusilla?" Angel pressed on.  "Oh, that's right.  It's girls' night out, yet again.  She does that a lot, doesn't she, Spike?  From what I can tell, she's out of town more than she's here."

To Willow's surprise, Spike actually flinched at Angel's taunt.  "You talk a load of rubbish, mate. Don't know what the hell you're going on about."

"Maybe Drusilla isn't quite the way you remembered her to be.  Or maybe you're not what Dru remembers?"  Angel smirked, sending a shiver through Willow.  There was a lot of Angelus in him tonight.  "As I remember, she's always been a bit fickle.  Just like you, Spike.  Her sire."

Shaking his head, Spike took one step closer to Angel until they were almost nose-to-nose.  "We learned from the best.  Didn't we, Angelus?"

Angel's grin didn't fade a bit.  Spike turned to Willow, taking his duster from her hands.  "I'd let you keep it, Red, but I'm afraid the Scabbies here may try to burn it in effigy.  But it's bloody cold, and you need to get inside.  Since I'm not likely to get an invitation from this rude lot, I'd best be off."

"Running away, Spike?" Buffy asked as the vampire slid into his coat.  "Leaving Willow to handle the rough times on her own yet again?"

"This has nothing to do with me, Slayer," Spike said calmly as he brushed past her toward the street.  "Your problem is with Red, not me, and she can more than take care of herself."

"This has *everything* to do with you, Spike," Buffy taunted.  "If it hadn't been for you kidnapping Willow, we wouldn't even be having this discussion!"

It wasn't easy, but somehow Willow kept silent.  This was Spike's fight not hers.

The blond vampire whirled around, his eyes glowing an amber warning that they'd almost pushed him too far.  Shaking his head and clenching his teeth, Spike looked away, obviously trying to gain control of his emotions.  Then he looked back at them through eyes that were again blue.

"You're right, Slayer," he barked, marching back toward them.  "We wouldn't.  Because the lady would be dead," he said, gesturing to Jenny. "Angel would be in hell, and you'd be missing in action, either dead or off licking your wounds somewhere, feeling sorry for yourself.  Meanwhile, Xapper and Red here would be left to pick up your slack.  Who knows what would have happened to them...they couldn't have lasted long, at any rate."  He lit another cigarette as he took in the stunned and guilty faces of the teens around him.  "So you're right, Slayer, if I hadn't kidnapped Willow, we wouldn't be having this discussion."  He exhaled slowly, the smoke slipping between lips twisted in a half-smile.

"Almost makes me wish I hadn't.  *Almost*," he repeated, winking at Willow one last time.  "Now, get inside before you freeze to death, Red."  He looked over at Angel, eyeing the long black wool coat the dark vampire was wearing.  "And you call yourself a bloody gentleman?  Doesn't take a soul to see Red's shivering with the cold."  With a final smirk, Spike sauntered away, disappearing into the shadows.

"Damn, he has some good exits," Xander said after a while, breaking the silence.

"If you think that's good," Willow said, "you should have seen some of mine over the years." Willow turned on her heels and headed for the steps.  She hoped to edge past Angel without looking at him, but he stepped in her path.  Reluctantly, Willow met his gaze.

"Willow, I'm sorry. I only--"

"I'm not angry with you, Angel," she said, cutting him off.  "I'm not angry with anyone.  Just...disappointed."  Before Angel could say any more, Willow quickly sidestepped him, taking the steps two at a time.  As the others followed, whispering among themselves, she knew the worse was yet to come.

*****
End Chapter 19 (archived December, 22, 2003)  Happy Holidays!!
 

(this story will be done for Valentine's Day, 2004 - 2/14/03)

Update 4-30-04

~ Chapter 20 ~

Angel scanned the darkened street.  He wouldn't put it past Spike to lurk in the shadows somewhere to glory in the latest uproar he'd caused.  When he was sure that the other vampire wasn't hiding nearby, Angel followed the others inside, who were still muttering and plotting amongst themselves.  He took his time hanging up his coat, all the while silently condemning himself for not offering it to Willow.  He hated it when Spike came across looking like quite the gentleman when in truth Spike was only concerned about one person, himself. Oh, Angel didn't doubt that the blond vampire cared for Willow, too, but only in terms of how she affected his life.  If Spike had to choose between Willow's happiness and his own, he'd choose himself every time, just like always.

Unfortunately, convincing Willow of Spike's true motives was proving next to impossible.  Angel knew if he wanted his friendship with Willow to continue to blossom as it had lately, then he had to keep his thoughts about Spike to himself as much as he could, and yet still keep Willow safe.  No easy feat, considering Spike's recent behavior was making it nearly impossible for Angel to keep quiet.  Yeah, Spike was good.  Angel had to give him that much.  And yet, Spike seemed to forget where he'd learned all his tricks in the first place--Angelus.  No, Spike wasn't fooling anyone...other than Willow, that is.

While Buffy, Xander and Cordelia had been spying on Willow, Angel had been doing a little detective work of his own.  It had only taken a few threats, bribes, and stakes in the right places to learn a few of Spike's more worrisome secrets.

Word on the street was that Drusilla had been spending increasing amounts of time out of town over the past few months.  She'd been growing unhappy with the 'changes' in her Spike and was unhappy about his attachment to another woman.  And not just any woman, a living one.

Naturally, Angel knew there had to be more to it, but most of Spike's remaining minions were still fairly faithful and no one was talking.  Something was going to happen soon, though, Angel was sure of it.  He could almost detect change on the wind.

Angel walked slowly into the heart of Slayer Central, his home.  Buffy, Xander and the others were still in deep discussion about Spike and Willow.  Giles and Jenny were desperately trying to make the young people look at the situation from Willow's point of view, but they appeared to be fighting a losing battle.

Willow was nowhere to be seen, and Angel knew instinctively where to find her.  He quickened his pace through the room.  He didn't want to get pulled into the other's discussion at the moment.  There'd be plenty of time to voice his opinion on the matter of Willow and Spike.  First he wanted to speak with Willow alone, while he still had the chance.

She was exactly where he thought she would be...in the kitchen.  The redhead was seated at the table, sipping from his 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish' mug, another of the humorous little gifts that the gang had given him over the past couple of years.  He still remembered how the old Willow would blush whenever she saw him drink from it and laugh when Xander mused that there weren't enough 'Bite Me, I'm an Irish Bloodsucker' mugs to be found in Sunnydale.

"Hey," Willow said as he stood in the doorway.  She was peering cautiously up at him over the rim of the mug.  She looked tired and stressed but not particularly angry, Angel was pleased to note.  "If you're here to explain what you said, Angel, don't.  Ditto if you're going to apologize.  Otherwise, come on in."

"No apologies or explanations.  Got it."  He stepped into the room, still trying to gauge her mood.  She looked calm enough, maybe too calm.  "I bought some more ice cream today, if you're hungry.  It's one of your favorites."She perked up even more.  "Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby?"

"Four pints."

She raised an eyebrow and seemed to be trying not to smile.  "Sounds like you were *expecting* me to have a rough night."

"No, they were on sale."

Willow shook her head with mock graveness.  "Having financial troubles, Angel?  I can't quite see you clipping coupons, so do we need to start buying generic soda and ice cream?"

"I have more than enough money to keep you in Ben & Jerry's, Willow.  Money is one thing I don't have to worry about for the next few..."

"Decades?"

"Centuries."

"Wow...You're a regular Donald Trump of the vampire set, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

Willow motioned for him to take the seat across from her, which he did, gladly.  "How'd you get all this money anyway, Angel?"

While he was glad they weren't discussing what had happened outside, Angel still winced at her question.  "Investments."

"Such as...?"

"Computers, plastics, Home Depot.  I've been very lucky."

"No one is that lucky."

Angel shifted in his seat.  How come he'd never noticed before how uncomfortable the chairs were?

"Come on, fess up, Angel.  Did you bite E.F. Hutton's grandpa or something?"

Angel stared at the tabletop, unable to look the redhead in the eye.  "William may have given me a few tips awhile back," he mumbled.

"W-william?" she sputtered, after a long pause.  "You mean Spike?"

Surprised by the flash of pain he felt at her words, his eyes darted up to meet hers.  "No, *my* William, before he became Spike."

He hoped that would be enough to satiate the curious redhead, but her silence and the intensity of her gaze let it be known that she'd settle for nothing but the whole story.  He sighed.  "Before you two left us in London, your Spike gave my William a few financial tips.  How do you think your Spike got all his money in this timeline and century?  As his sire, William was loyal to me and passed on Spike's advice.  I didn't take all of it, didn't even remember most of his suggestions.  Either way, Spike's most likely ten times wealthier than I am, which is fine with me."

Willow didn't say anything for a few long moments. She just continued to stare at him through penetrating green eyes, making Angel squirm in his seat once again.  He really needed to invest in some more comfortable chairs for this room.

"Oh," she finally said, then shrugged.  "It makes sense, I guess, but I have to wonder if Spike knows that he's basically responsible for all this," she said, gesturing with her hands to indicate the building around them.

"I don't think he knows."

"Still, you may need to rename it after him."

"Spike's Slayer Central?" Angel chuckled.  "I think he'd go back in time and give up all of his money first, don't you?"

Willow took another long drink.  "Luckily, he can't," she said softly, setting down the mug.  "No more time travel for us.  It was a one-trip-only spell, not a life-time pass."

"Thank, God.  It's confusing enough now.  Imagine if there were more versions of all of us running about."

Willow laughed, but it sounded hollow and forced.

Silence fell between them for a while.  Across from him, Willow looked as if her thoughts were a million miles away.  Her delicate hand lay on the table near her mug, looking lost somehow.  Angel longed to reach out and intertwine his fingers through hers and reassure her that somehow he'd make everything right again, but he was afraid she'd pull away.  The timing wasn't right.

"Are you okay, Willow?  Are you upset about how I came into my money?  Should I have lied and told you I struck gold?  Found oil?  Invented Post-It notes?"She finally looked up at him and grinned.  "No, Angel, of course not!  In fact, it only seems right that something else good should come from our trip back in time.  I'm just trying to prepare myself for what's ahead," she said, glancing at the hallway where the voices of the others wafted into the room.  "I must admit I wasn't quite expecting to face the Spanish Inquisition tonight."

"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition, Willow."

Willow laughed at his Monty Python quote, which made his own grin widen.

"It's good to see you smile, Willow, and hear you laugh.  You should do both more often.

"What do you mean?" she replied, still smiling.  "I laugh at you a lot and not always behind your back, either."

"Oh?"

"I mean that I smile and laugh a lot *with* you, Angel.  Not *at* you.  Cuz why would I stare at your back?  Not that you don't have a great, er, back, but..."  Willow paused to take a breath.  She was actually blushing as she shyly dropped her eyes to study her mug again.  "I think I'll quit talking now..."

Angel was very pleased at the idea of Willow sneaking peeks at his 'back'.  "Don't worry, Willow.  I knew what you meant," he said, letting her off the hook even though he found her blush enchanting.

Almost as if in reward, Willow looked up at him again and positively beamed.  Angel felt an ache in his chest.  Her sweet smile made him feel as if there were nothing that he couldn't do.  It did more for him than a pint of blood or a week's worth of brooding, as if she could harness the power of absolution and contentment in her smile.

Angel had to look away, otherwise he'd be too tempted to lean across the table and show her with his lips just how much she meant to him.  He cleared his throat.  "Now how about that ice-cream before we go and face the others?"

Willow straightened her spine and sighed deeply, as if preparing for bad news.  "No thanks," she said.  "Don't think it would taste too good with the Beaujolais," she said, raising her mug to him before taking a long drink.

"You're drinking wine?"  Only then did Angel notice the open wine bottle sitting on the counter to his left.  Maybe she was madder at them than she was letting on.

Willow got up to refill her mug.  The bottle was about half full, and he was sure that there hadn't been any open bottles of wine lying around.  No wonder she'd smiled at him and his jokes.  She was tipsy!

Angel's heart and hopes alike fell at the thought.  And yet, when he really studied Willow, her coloring, pupils, and the pulse fluttering on the side of her pale, delicate throat, she didn't appear intoxicated at all.

Strange.

Willow shrugged.  "After the conversation outside, and the one that's yet to come, I think I deserve a little treat.  Actually, since it's so cold I was thinking of making some mulled wine.  It's an old recipe I picked up in Germany, but since you don't have any cloves or cardamom, I decided to keep it simple instead."  She held up the half-full bottle.  "Would you care for some, Angel?"

"Sure."  Not that he needed a drink, but the more he had in his cup, the less Willow could consume.  The last thing any of them needed right now was for Willow to get drunk.

"Where'd you get the wine, Willow," he asked, trying very hard to sound nonchalant and nonjudgmental.  "It looks like its from my collection, but--"

Willow laughed as she took his Chewbacca mug from the rack.  "I was with the Rom for decades, Angel, remember?  It's going to take more than a simple locked cabinet to keep me out.  If you're determined to keep something from me, you may want to consider combination locks instead, since they hadn't invented those yet."  She flashed him what he'd already labeled as her devious smile, then filled both mugs, emptying the bottle.  "It would probably take me at least a couple of days to figure out how to pick one of those."

Angel couldn't help smiling.  Every day he learned something unexpected about Willow.  Sometimes it was something cute, like the fact that she knew how to churn butter and make bread from scratch.  Other times he discovered something more mysterious in nature, like when she lifted Giles' wallet three times in fifteen minutes, each time causing the Watcher to announce that he was completely flummoxed as to her pick-pocketing methods.  Everything about Willow was fascinating and enticing.

"I'll keep that in mind, Willow."

She started to hand him the mug, then pulled it back for a second to fake a pout.  "Don't look at me like that, Angel.  This is the first drink I've had in over a week.  Besides, one intervention is enough for today, don't you think?"

Angel grinned, enjoying the mischievous glint in her emerald eyes.  He believed Willow when she'd told him before that she only had the occasional glass of wine when her parents were out of town or when she was with Spike, which wasn't very often.  "I won't call AA on you this week then, Willow."

He stood and reached out to take the mug she offered, his fingers unintentionally closing over hers, sending a white-hot surge of desire throughout his body.  Angel groaned involuntarily, but he had no intention of relinquishing his hold on the mug, not when the simple sensation of her soft, warm skin beneath his was more tantalizing than the finest wine in the world, and more intoxicating than any substance known to man or demon.

Angel dragged his gaze away from where it had been greedily drinking in the sight of their intertwined fingers and found that she was already staring up at him through eyes wide with a curious deep longing.  Their gazes met and held, the air in the room growing heavy and heated.

God, she was beautiful and becoming more beautiful with each passing day.  At this rate, in a few months he'd be unable to stand in the same room with her without drooling helplessly at her feet.  Or pulling her into his arms.  Whichever came first.

Unable to resist, and not wanting to even try, Angel caressed her petal-soft cheek with his free hand.  Willow's eyes fluttered shut, and with a sigh, she leaned in to his touch.  Her willingness heightened Angel's hunger and his eyes devoured every inch of her flushed face, stopping on her rosy, inviting lips.

He traced their tempting softness with a single finger, causing her to slowly open her eyes, as if in a daze.

"Angel..." she began in a weak tremulous whisper, but her words faded as his thumb brushed over her lips again.  She was peering deeply into his eyes.  The blood pounded in his veins when he saw no hint of fear there, no loathing.  Their desire only intensified as they seemed to simultaneously lean toward the promise of each other's touch.  Entranced, he again traced her moist lips with a trembling finger, and this time she surprised him by parting her lips.  Her tongue flicked out, ever so quickly to taste the tip of his finger before catching him between her teeth for a brief moment.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who was hungry tonight, he thought as she released him with more than a hint of a seductive grin curving her lips.  He cupped the side of her face, and she covered his hand with her own.

At that moment, he became vaguely aware that the voices in the other room had become louder, but he didn't care.  The smoldering emerald flames of Willow's eyes told him that she didn't seem to care either.  He slowly lowered his head towards her, still half-afraid she'd pull away or scream with fright, but she didn't.  Her half-closed eyes seem mesmerized by his lips.

The mood was broken by the sound of raised voices from the other room and the click-clack of heels coming towards them down the hall.  Willow immediately looked toward the door and stepped back, leaving the Star Wars mug in his hand.

He would have much rather been holding her than Chewbacca.

Jenny appeared in the doorway, clearing her throat. Like guilty teens, Willow and Angel stepped even further away from each other.
 

"We were, uh, just getting something to drink," Willow offered in a trembling voice.

"Well, you may want to get out here.  The theories are running wild and free, and I'm afraid Rupert and I are failing miserably at keeping things in check."

Angel cleared his throat.  "We'll be right there, Jenny.  Thanks."

Willow turned back to Angel, and he noticed that she was already wearing a more reserved look.  Although her breathing was still rapid and her face still flushed, she was no longer looking at him through eyes softened with desire.  It was back to business already.

"It, um, looks like it's time for me to face the music, yet again," she said with grim determination.  "Cheers," she said, then drank the last few swallows of wine.  When she rinsed out her mug and left it in the sink, he noticed her hands were shaking.

"Just remember, Willow," Angel said when she turned back around, "they love you."  He held her trembling hands to emphasize his point. "Everything they say and do is out of love and concern for you."

Willow took a deep breath and smiled.  "I'll try to remember that.  Thank you, Angel."  She squeezed his hands before releasing them, and then turned and left the kitchen.

***
Willow stopped in the hallway to steady her nerves and survey the scene before she ventured any further into the room.  Her mind was still whirling and her body was still in turmoil from the promise of Angel's touch and the taste of his skin, but the scene before her was as sobering as an ice-cold shower.
In the main room, Buffy paced the floor behind the couch, while Giles sat in one of the leather chairs, rubbing his temples and shaking his head.  Xander and Cordelia were perched atop the round table in the middle of the room.  No one seemed to notice her presence, and for a moment, Willow was tempted to turn right back around, pull Angel into the kitchen, and insist that they continue where they'd left off.  A shiver rippled through her from head to toe.  It was a little frightening how badly she'd wanted his kiss.  Her skin was still on fire everywhere they'd touched, and all she'd been able to think of from the moment their hands had touched was than she wanted her entire body to feel that way.

It was so tempting to lose herself in Angel's embrace again that Willow felt a little bit guilty.  Seeming to sense her need, Angel lay a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"Just remember, we love you, Willow."

We?  Willow was just about to call him on his choice of words, when a comment by Xander demanded her immediate attention.

"You know," Xander was saying to the other teens, "it does make sense...sick, twisted sense, but sense nevertheless."

"How do you mean?" Buffy asked.

"Oh yes, please do go on," Giles said in a weary tone.  "I'm sure this will be fascinating."

"Willow was stuck with Spike for a very long time, forced to endure his company, right?  Well, maybe during that time she started to lose track of reality a little bit.  You know what a soft touch Willow is.  She would have started to over-sympathize with Spike.  What choice did she have?  After a time, Spike probably controlled her thoughts and actions until she had no will of her own."

"You mean Spike cleaned out her brain," Cordelia stated simply.

"Brainwashing?" Buffy translated.

"Exactly."

Giles groaned and Jenny whispered a soft, "See what I mean," to Willow before going to stand behind Giles.  Willow and Angel followed.

"Hold it right there, you three," Willow said as she confronted them in the middle of the room.  "I am *not* Patty Hearst, nor am I some psychology textbook example of the kidnappee falling under the spell of the kidnapper."

"No?" Xander retorted from his seat a top the round table.

"No."

Cordelia clutched Xander's arm, but he pulled loose and slid off the table before striding closer to Willow.  Willow didn't back up, but she didn't like the disgusted look on Xander's face at all.

"Well, you could have fooled me, Willow," he said.  "You've been acting like you'd rather spend time with that bloodsucker than with us.  The way you two are always touching...it's disgusting, and it's wrong, Willow!  So if it isn't a side effect of being forced to be with him all the time, what is it, then?"

"And don't give us any more of that friendship excuse either," Buffy added.  She moved to stand next to Xander and crossed her arms in front of her chest, making quite the united front.  "How can you be a friend with someone to whom you represent the only tier in their food pyramid?"

Willow took a deep breath.  She'd been hoping that the wine would help her relax and stay calm, but as far as she could tell, it was having no effect whatsoever.  Apparently, wine used to be a lot stronger in the good old days.  "I am *not* food to Spike," she said with as much calm as she could muster.

Buffy took a step closer and flicked a finger at the faded bite scars Willow wore.  "Oh really?  Then what are those on your neck, Willow?  Tattoos?"

Xander snorted derisively.  "Let me guess.  He never swallowed, right?"

Willow didn't flinch under the force of their scathing remarks, at least not externally, but on the inside Willow already felt bruised and bloodied from their verbal blows.  Automatically remembering what her martial arts masters had taught her, Willow schooled her breathing and counted to ten--albeit very quickly--all the while picturing her calming place.  The cascade of water shrouded in mist wasn't working as well as it used to, and for a moment, Willow found herself trembling from the strain of controlling her temper.  Perhaps it was time to find a new calming place.

"I know this has been quite a shock for all of you," she began when she had finally gained some control.  "And I don't really expect you to understand, but--"

"You're right, Willow," Buffy interrupted.  "I don't understand, because I'm the Slayer and Spike's a vampire, a soulless demon, and it's my job to rid the world of his kind."

Willow tried not to roll her eyes at Buffy's "I am the Chosen One" rhetoric, but her store of patience was being rapidly depleted.

"And it looks like Willow's job is to sleep with them," Xander quipped.

Willow flinched.  Xander's comment had cut her so deeply that she expected to see her own blood pooling at her feet. "That's unfair, Xander."

"I call 'em like I see 'em, Willow."

"Hypocrite much, Xander?" Cordelia said suddenly.  She moved to stand in between Willow and the other teens.  "While I agree the thought of Willow and Spike doing...*things*...makes me want to consider becoming a nun, need I remind you of a certain Inca mummy girl, Xander?  Or your favorite teacher that substituted as a praying mantis?  The only reason you weren't deflowered by some demon-thing, Xander Harris, is because Buffy kept killing your dates before you could get to second base!"  Cordelia then focused the same reproachful look on the Slayer.

"And Buffy?  Hello?  Have you forgotten about the Snake Frat or that in Willow's timeline, you couldn't control your hormones for a couple of years, let alone a century, causing Angel to go all evil!  So sorry, but I don't think you have room to talk either."  Cordelia softened a little.  "*None* of us do."

"We live on a Hellmouth," Jenny added.  "Good living, breathing, non-possessed dates are hard to find."

Willow wanted to hug Jenny for trying to introduce some levity into the conversation, as well as Cordelia for her show of understanding.

Buffy didn't seem as impressed.  "Point taken, Cordelia, but that doesn't change the fact that Spike is a vampire and therefor evil and just like all of Xander's previous dates, deserves to be staked!"

"Buffy," Willow began in an even tone, "I'm afraid things aren't that black or white.  There's a whole shade of gray you're choosing to ignore."

"I don't choose to ignore it, Willow.  I have to.  I don't have the time to weigh all the possibilities.  When I weigh, people die.  So soulless, bloodsucking, killer demon equals bad in my book.  Bad gets staked.  End of story."

"How convenient," Willow retorted under her breath, and then something occurred to her.  "You know," she began, moving to sit on the arm of a nearby chair, "during the years I've spent with this version of Spike, I actually never, *ever* saw him kill anyone."

"Yeah, right," Buffy laughed.

"I'm serious, Buffy.  I don't remember ever seeing him kill someone.  I never saw him hurt anyone either, for that matter.  Except, Angelus, that is."

The room went silent.  Even Angel and Giles looked surprised.

Giles stood up and removed his glasses.  "Are you being completely serious, Willow?"

"Yes."  Willow was actually a little surprised herself.  She hadn't really thought about it, but it was true.  "The only time I saw Spike raise a hand, or bare a fang, against anyone was when he had to protect us.  That's the truth.  What about you, Buffy?"  Willow continued, hoping her voice didn't betray her nervousness.  While Buffy had never mentioned seeing Spike kill anyone since she'd been back, for all she knew, Spike had killed dozens of people.  Her stomach clenched at the thought.  He was, after all, a vampire, but there was no time to dwell on that minor fact at the moment.  "Have you ever witnessed Spike kill anyone?"

"Of course I have," she replied.  "Spike loves leaving his victims lying about for us to find.  It's like a game to him."

"Not the old Spike, Buffy.  I'm talking about *this* Spike.  The one that came back with me.  *My* Spike."

"Do you have to keep referring to him like that?" Xander whined.  "*My* Spike?"
They ignored him.  Buffy looked at a loss for words.  "Well, I..."  She looked at the others for help.

"What about the rest of you?" Willow continued, her fingers mentally crossed.  "Since we came back a few months ago, have you actually seen him kill anyone?"

Slowly, reluctantly, they all shook their heads, even Angel.

Buffy's mouth hung open for a moment, then she said, "That's not the point, Willow!  Whether we've had to clean up after him or not, Spike's a vampire and *all* vampires should be killed!"

Xander cleared his throat and looked at Angel.  "Uh, the T-shirts in the wash, but as always, present company is excluded, Deadboy.  You have a soul, which makes you one of the good guys."

"No offense taken," Angel replied stoically.

Willow shook her head and rubbed at her aching temples.  Her head was beginning to swim from all the accusations, theories, and deep discussions.  "You know, just because some vampires don't have souls doesn't mean they can't be different, even nice, relatively speaking," she grumbled.

There was a chorus of groans from the teens.  "Come on, Angel.  Back us up here, bud," Xander pleaded.  "I know you can't be buying Spike's act."
All eyes turned to Angel, who was still standing quietly at the edge of the group.

"Not a red cent of it," the vampire said after a long pause, dashing Willow's already fragile hopes that the evening would somehow end on a positive note.

She tried to remain calm even as she felt a familiar anger spark to life deep within her psyche.  After all, she told herself, Angel's answer shouldn't surprise her.  It was completely unrealistic to keep hoping that one day Angel would give up his hatred and mistrust of Spike, even for her.  She'd only kept hoping because she couldn't bare the thought of her life without either vampire if they couldn't learn to accept each other in her life.

"Angel, you act as if all vampires are exactly the same," Willow said, faking a light-hearted tone.  "You know they have free will just like we do.  They aren't mindless zombies whose only thoughts are to kill and feed.  In fact, they can be very reasonable--"

"Yeah, right," Xander butted in to grumble, but Willow and Angel ignored him.

"Only when they want something from you, Willow," Angel told her in a corrosive tone that she found far from soothing.

Angel slowly advanced to stand before her, and Willow didn't like the resigned look he wore.

Willow frowned as her mood quickly took a similarly dark turn.  And to think, just a few minutes ago, they'd almost kissed!  "Spike doesn't want anything from me, Angel, at least nothing that I'm not willing to give."  She felt only a twinge of guilt when Angel flinched at her choice of words. "Spike may not be a saint, or reformed, or anything else like that, but he's special..."

"'specially annoying and dangerous, maybe," Xander chimed in.

Willow whirled to face the teen that she'd almost forgotten was in the room  "Shut up, Xander!"

"No, I won't shut up, Willow.  I think we've all been too quiet about your relationship with Spike already.  I can't believe you're telling us that it's okay with you if Spike kills four or five people a night, women and children, as long we don't see it and he's *nice* to you?  With friends like that..."

"Spike a friend?"  Angel laughed.  "Humans are food or fodder to vampires, a means to an end and little more.  Vampires don't have human friends, occasionally servants or lovers maybe but not friends."  Willow could almost hear an unspoken:  "Which are you, Willow?" at the end of Angel's little speech.

She held her ground, trying hard to choke down the bitter taste of resentment that was rising in her throat, making it hard to speak.  "You don't really believe that, Angel."

Suddenly softening, Buffy said, "Willow, he doesn't mean himself.  Angel has a soul and that's different.  Of course Willow's your friend, right, Angel?"

Neither Willow nor Angel bothered to look at the Slayer.  They were too busy exchanging glares and assessing the other's anger.

"Buffy's right," Angel said, finally breaking the silence between them, but not the tension.  "I have a soul, and that let's me be capable of more control than other vampires."

Willow found herself smirking at his arrogance.  She didn't quite know the source of her own anger and bitterness, but it felt good, damn good, to let it run its course for a change.

"And when did you become the speaker for the rest of the world's vampire population, Angel?" she snapped back in reply.  "Maybe before you had a soul *you* were incapable of using women for anything more than food or sex, but that doesn't mean every vampire couldn't handle it!  Maybe you were just too weak."

Her angry retort hardened Angel's features.  He stalked even closer and loomed over her, making Willow feel uncomfortably petite and fragile.

"No, Willow, it is *not* possible," he said in a voice cold enough to send a chill down her spine.  "Spike used you, Willow.  He *used* you.  If not *just* for sex, then for some other greater but ultimately selfish purpose as well."  His eyes narrowed, sending dangerous sparks that threatened to ignite the very air around them.  "And now little Spike has decided he doesn't want to be alone, and you've become a security blanket to him, just another leather duster he can pull out and use whenever he needs it."

She jutted out her chin, becoming more infuriated with every word he spoke.  "No, Angel!  You are so wrong.  Spike knows he can depend on me, just like I know I can depend on him.  It's nice to know that I have someone who cares about me so much!"

"You think I don't care?" he asked in a growl that would have been funny in any other situation.

"I think your hatred of Spike makes you unable to see straight."

"And your love of him does the same, and it'll be the death of you if you don't snap out of it, Willow!"

The room fell silent, everyone holding their breath for Willow's reply, but she didn't budge or speak.  There was no way she was going to dignify his juvenile comment with an answer.

Perhaps sensing he'd pushed her too far, Angel took a step back "I don't know exactly when or where, but Spike does plan to change you soon."  His tone was softer but still strained.

Here we go again.  Willow rolled her eyes and spun away.  "We've been through this before, and I'm tired of the repetition.  In fact, I've had more than enough of defending myself for one night, and I'm going home now.  We can continue this later, whenever you've *all* grown up a little."  She marched for the door, but was stopped by familiar words from more than a century and half earlier.

"No, Rose," Angel had begun in good imitation of Spike, "you just wait, because the second your life isn't necessary anymore...when you quit being useful because this bloody spell is complete...I'll shut your gob for you, permanently..."

She gripped the nearest bookshelf for support but didn't turn around.  "Don't do this, Angel," she said, and the words came out sounding like equal parts pleading and warning.

"I'm not going to stop, Willow.  This is for your own good, and I'm tired of pretending that everything is okay.  *That* was the real Spike talking, Willow," Angel continued, slowly moving to stand behind her.  "The one that traded you for Drusilla, the one that nearly abandoned you to the likes of me."

"Spike didn't mean that and you know it.  He was just putting on a show for you at the time."

"Sounded to me like he meant it.  Maybe later he just figured out that he needed a better plan.  You were more useful under his thumb than mine.  He's as selfish as they come, Willow.  Always has been.  He manipulated us both, Willow, and he still is."

Willow couldn't turn to face the vampire, but she could feel him, directly behind her.  Heat was radiating off of him in waves or perhaps it was only her own anger reflecting back on her that was making the blood coursing through her veins boil.  "Well, like he said, he learned it from the best, didn't he, Angelus?"

"Yes, he did, which is only further proof that I know what he's going to do.  He's going to turn you, Willow.  I can feel it in the pit of my soul.  Hate me if you have to, Willow.  Hate me but believe me."

"Hate us all, if you have to Willow, but listen to Angel!" Buffy pleaded.  "It's your life on the line, your soul."

In turn, every one spoke up, agreeing with Angel, including Giles and finally Jenny.  "I think Angel's right, Willow," the computer teacher said.  "Spike's using you.  You must see it."

Slowly, Willow turned to face her friends, but for some reason their blatant looks of concern only heightened her confusion and anger.  "Using me for what?" she said harshly.  "Company when he eats his deep fried onion?  While I know that's not particularly healthy, did I miss the Surgeon General's warning that eating fried foods causes soul loss?"

Giles approached her slowly, but the paternal almost pitying look on his face warned Willow that she wasn't going to like what he was about to say either.

"I know it may be hard to see, Willow.  In all honesty, I did not really see it until now, but think about it, Willow.  Spike does not appear to be doing anything to assist you in adjusting to your new life here, does he?"

"Oh, please!  If it weren't for Spike, I would be miserable.  He's the one keeping me sane.  He's the only one who understands me, who I can really talk to and be myself with."

"That's my point exactly, Willow," Giles offered.  "We're here for you, we've always been here for you, but you turn to Spike instead.  Considering what you've been through, it's quite natural.  Yet, in this case, it's not particularly helpful, Willow.  You need to find normalcy in this world now, or at least as normal as the Hellmouth will allow, but I'm afraid you can't do that with Spike in your back pocket, so to speak."

Angel looked relieved that the others were backing him up.  "Spike's trying to tear us apart."

"Us?"  Willow couldn't help laughing even though she felt like crying.  "There is no 'us', Angelus."

The fire in Angel's eyes died a little.  "I meant that he's driving you and your friends apart, Willow.  Driving a wedge between you.  If I know Spike, he's being pretty subtle about it.  He's probably hoping you'll become so miserable you'll ask him to turn you.  It would make it easier on him then, wouldn't it? "
"You're really stretching now."

"Am I?  He's going to turn you, Willow.  I know it, he knows it.  Everyone knows it but you."

"It makes sense, Willow," Giles said sympathetically.  "While I don't deny that you and Spike have a, er, special relationship, I think that only makes it that much more understandable that he'd want to protect you.  And the only way he knows how to protect you permanently is to--"

"No, you're wrong."

"Not this time, Willow," Angel said.  "I've heard things around town.  Some of his minions are talking, but more importantly, he's admitted it to me.  While he hasn't said it with words, he hasn't denied it either.  But I know him, Willow.  I can still read his face, and when he thought he was going to lose you that night in the park..."

"The night *he* *saved* me?"

"Willow, try to understand.  Spike cares about you the only way he knows how:  selfishly and obsessively, too much to let you go.  When has he ever let go of anything?  Who else would go to the lengths he did to get Drusilla back?  And you expect him to let you die when he can stop that?  When he can guarantee you'll be with him forever?  Maybe he promised you, he wouldn't, but he knows that once you've been turned, you won't care what he promised you when you were alive and still had a soul."

Willow found herself reaching for the support of the bookcase again.  Her head was swimming with thoughts and feelings that she couldn't control and dare not express.

Unfortunately, Angel, possibly sensing that he was getting through to her, wasn't letting up.  "How many times have you trusted Spike before only to have him betray you?"  Her tummy flipped as Angel tenderly caressed the side of her throat with one finger.  "And none of these look particularly *friendly*."

Embarrassed by her body's automatic reaction to the vampire's touch, Willow angrily swatted his hand away.  "Then how do you know they're not yours?" she snapped back.

Angel staggered back a pace or two, there was a collective gasp from the younger members of their audience, and then Willow realized what she had just said.  The last important secret about her past was a secret no more.

Xander's mouth fell open, eyes rounded by the shock of betrayal turned to Angel  "A-angel?" he sputtered.

Buffy had paled but the Slayer in her was quickly taking over, despite her shock.  "When did Angel bite you?" she demanded.

Willow covered her face with trembling hands.  "Angel didn't bite me; *Angelus* did."

"You never said Angelus bit you," Buffy said.  "You never even told us you met Angelus after he'd become a vampire."

Cordelia shook her head.  "I can't believe you were bitten by Angelus."

"Oh, there's more to it than that, isn't there, Angel?" Willow said, dragging her hands from her face to look the vampire in the eye.  "You want to talk about manipulation?  You want to talk about using people?  If Spike's a master manipulator, it's only because he learned it from Angel!"

"Someone tell me what happened," Buffy demanded.

"I was obsessed with Rose, with Willow, after Darla turned me." Angel began.  "I thought Rose was dead, but when I saw her all those years later..."

Buffy quickly moved to stand between Willow and Angel, like a referee at a boxing match.  "But you wouldn't have hurt Willow, right, Angel?"  Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Willow.  "He wouldn't have really hurt you."

Willow almost laughed at Buffy's naivete, but she contained herself.  Instead, she felt her anger growing exponentially and she had to bite her tongue to keep herself quiet.

Angel, on the other hand, wasn't holding back.  "Damn it, Buffy!  How many times have I told you how evil I was?  I slaughtered countless people...women and children, too.  I tortured, maimed and drove the living insane for the sheer fun of it.  Everything you know Spike to be, I was much worse."

"I-I'm sorry, Angel," Buffy sputtered, taking a step back from the angry vampire.  "It's not that we don't believe you.  It's just hard for us to think of you that way."

"Rose was my obsession," Angel continued, beginning to pace the floor without looking at Willow.  "Between Spike and I, we tried to break her, mentally.  Yet I didn't want to share her...not with Spike, not with anyone.  Spike felt the same way about Drusilla, so we had a ceremony where I traded Dru for Willow so I could own her.  Spike had bitten Willow first, so technically she was his, but I traded for her...Spike was willing."

Xander held up his hands.  "Hold on...," he said to Angel.  "You bartered for Willow like she was some cheap beads or a Midwestern State?"

"Yep," Willow chuckled coolly, trying to ignore the dark void that was growing within her.  "Angel here is the proud owner of one century old teenager."

"At least that explains all the drama between you two," Cordelia said.  "I was starting to think you were both hopeless, but now I know you've got some real issues.  Maybe you should go on The Jerry Springer Show and work it all out?"

Angel quit pacing in front of the redhead.  "Willow, I don't think of you that way now."

"Oh please," she said haughtily.  She no longer tried to control her words.  She just let them flow, not caring who they hurt.  "It's in your blood, Angel.  Soul or not, you still have a demon in you, and it hates seeing me with Spike, doesn't it?  Vampires don't share their toys well."

Angel's features hardened, as if slapped, then stepped back.  He actually chuckled, much like Angelus used to.  "We're too late," he said to the others.  "She won't believe us, no matter what we say."  He turned back to Willow, no longer smiling.  "Spike's already gotten to you, hasn't he?  He's twisted everything around so that no matter what we say, we lose.  He's told you that you can't trust us, *any* of us.  That no one can understand you like he does.  No one ever can, especially not your old friends, right?

"They'll never understand you, pet," Angel continued in his imitation of Spike.  "Not like I do.  How can they?  They're still bloody kids while you and I have seen the world together.  And Angel?  What a bloody undeserving wanker!"  Angel's face relaxed, and once again he looked and sounded like Angel.  "I can only imagine what he's telling you about me, Willow.  He's either trying to frighten you away from me or guilt you away.  Probably both.  Hell, I wouldn't put it past him to tell you that he's not so sure my soul isn't permanent after all."

Show's how much you know, mister! Willow thought, although she couldn't look Angel in the eye.  While Spike may have voiced many of those opinions, he had never implied that she should worry about Angel losing his soul.  Had he?  She started to think back to some of her recent conversations with Spike but it was too easy to recall Spike using words similar to Angel's.  Except for the thing about Angel's soul, everything sounded painfully familiar.

So Willow quit thinking about it and latched on to that discrepancy instead. Obviously Angel didn't know what he was talking about.  Who was being manipulative now? she thought with escalating fury as Angel continued to push.

"I thought you were smarter than this, Willow.  I thought you'd eventually be able to see through him all on your own, but even now he's in control.

"Control?"  Willow shook her head as she slowly glided toward the vampire.  "That's what this is all about, isn't it?  Control?  Spike tricked you, took away your favorite toy and cursed you with your soul.  You hate Spike because he's in control and you aren't!"  Willow backed away from the vampire and closer to the door.  "Spike was so strong when we were together back then, wasn't he, Angelus?  And he's still so very strong around me, so in control.  But you?  No, not the mighty Angelus.  You could never have done it!  The great Angelus could barely curb his appetite for a day let alone a century!  All that time I spent with Spike and he never really hurt me, never tried to kill me or turn me or take my virginity.  But you, Angelus?  A few hours with me and you were ready to...well, we won't go into details in front of the children, shall we?"

Angel stoically faced Willow's ever-growing tirade, which only further provoked her.  The others seemed too shocked to utter a sound, which was fine with her.

"You hate Spike and want him out of my life because you can't stand the fact that he is more of a man without his soul than you are now *with* one!" Even when Angel's eyes flashed yellow, Willow couldn't stop the bitter words from pouring out of her.  "Face it, you hate him because he's a constant reminder that it takes a soul for you to do what he can do without one!"

Other than Willow's haggard breathing and the indiscernible echo of her shouted words, the room went silent.  She wiped the tears from her cheek and started backing toward the door.

Shaking visibly, Angel spun around and stalked down the hall to his bedroom.  The slamming of Angel's bedroom door, immediately followed by the sound of shattering glass and breaking wood, seemed to snap the others out of it.  They turned their pale faces to Willow, and all their mouths opened at the same time.

"Don't say a word!" Willow commanded, holding up her hand to try to hold back their condemnations.  "I think I've said enough for one night, maybe even one lifetime, don't you?"  She practically sprinted for the door, stopped and added over her shoulder.  "Well, you know everything now, happy?"

She was running through the cool night air before anyone could answer.

****

Buffy winced when Willow slammed the front door, and then jumped at the sound of more destruction coming from Angel's room.  So did the others.

"That was intense," Xander said, pulling Cordy into a hug.  Giles slumped back down on the couch, took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Buffy returned to her previous pacing.

"Giles, Jenny...how much do you know about the spell Spike used to go back in time?"

"There's not much to know, Buffy.  Even the Rom don't have much information about it," Jenny said, taking a seat next to Giles.  "Why?"

"Maybe something happened to Willow with that spell that Spike cast...something that, I don't know, binds them together, somehow.  Willow does have a point about Spike's ability to control himself, and they seem so drawn to each other.  The spell seems like the only explanation we haven't fully explored."

Giles sighed and exchanged a weary look with Jenny.  "Buffy, while I agree that Willow seems blind to the danger that she's in, I don't see any reason to believe that there's something mystical behind it."

"It's possible that Willow is telling us the truth," Jenny agreed.  "Perhaps she and Spike simply have, despite the odds, managed to develop a very close friendship."

"So are you telling me that there isn't the possibility that something else is going on here?" Buffy asked.  "Do you remember her description of the ritual?  Blood was exchanged.  She was the...*container*...for the spell and Spike just tagged along for the ride.  The spell was originally only meant for *one person*."

"And I think we all know by now that when doing spells, it is kinda important to follow the directions," Xander added, nodding in agreement with the Slayer.

"Exactly," Buffy said.  "So isn't it possible that something more is going on here?  Something that Willow and maybe even Spike doesn't understand?  I mean, I've met a lot of vampires, Giles, and I have to admit that this Spike does seem a little different somehow."

"You're starting to sound like Willow, Buffy," Cordelia said.  "Is he getting to you, too?  Are you and Willow going to wear matching pro-Spike shirts?"

"Don't be ridiculous.  Spike's still evil, through and through, but we've got to do something, and other than locking Willow in her room...."

Giles slipped his glasses back on before casting a sheepish glance Jenny's way.  "I suppose it is possible that when they used such a powerful spell that was originally intended for an individual human--"

"Then it's research time," Buffy commanded.  "Xander, Cordy and I will hit the books, Jenny, you take the computer, and Giles...maybe you should contact someone in the counsel...discretely..."

"Do you really think all of this is necessary, Buffy?"

"Yes, Giles.  I *really* do.  My best friend's life is completely entangled in a vampire's, and I'm not going to allow that to continue.

"What if Willow prefers it that way, Buffy?" Jenny asked.  "I don't think she'd appreciate this kind of interference in her life."

"Willow will thank us for this one day," Buffy replied, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself as much as the others.  "One day..."

*****

End Chapter 20  Happy St. Patrick's Day!

~ Chapter 21 ~

"Angel?"

Angel snapped out of his trance at the sound of Buffy's voice and a persistent knocking at his bedroom door.

He wanted to tell her to go away, that he needed time to think, but he doubted she'd listen to him anyway.  Tonight he doubted that even a locked door would keep the Slayer away.

"Come in," he finally said, but he didn't look up as she entered his room.

Buffy paused just inside the door to take in the havoc he'd wreaked upon his private quarters.  The bedroom was a far cry from its usual spotless condition.  "Can't say I think much of your redecorating, Angel.  You're no Martha Stewart."

Angel remained motionless, sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed, arms resting on his thighs, and his fingers forming a triangle in front of him.  The Scooby Gang had long ago labeled this his 'thoughtful' pose.

"Not that I think Martha Stewart is an angel," Buffy went on when he made no comment.  "I bet that woman has a few demons in her closet."

She looked around the room again.  "Actually, I was expecting it to look at lot worse in here.  From outside, it sounded as if you'd totally demolished the place.  So what if you broke a couple of chairs and ugly old vases.  I bet you feel better now, right?"

Angel finally looked up and surveyed the mess around him.  Shards of glass and pottery littered the floor, all that was left of several antiques, including his favorite--a rare red-glazed porcelain vase dating to the earliest days of the Ming dynasty. There was only known to be one other like it in the entire world.

Other than shattered vases and other object's de art, sprinkled here and there were splintered hunks of wood that had once been his antique desk chair.

Did he feel better?  "Not really."

"We just wanted to make sure you're okay, and see if you want to help us research the spell that Spike used to play time bandit with.  We're wondering if maybe that has something to do with this Nutra-Sweet closeness of Willow and Spike's.

"You won't find anything."

Buffy carefully picked her way across the room, avoiding all the broken pottery. She grabbed the leather club chair from the corner, the only intact chair in the room, and pulled it close to the bed, so that she and Angel were facing one another.

"I think we will," she countered.  "It would explain a lot, maybe even why Willow said such horrible things to you."

"Willow said those horrible things because they were true.  Willow's right."

"About what?"

He looked the Slayer right in the eye.  "I *am* jealous of Spike, of his control.  I, Angelus, couldn't have...*wouldn't* have been able to...."

"That's why it has to be the spell, Angel!"

Angel disregarded her comment, going on to add, "But at the same time, Spike disgusts me."

"Of course he does, Angel.  He disgusts all of us!"

"You don't get it, Buffy.  In a way, I'm Spike's sire, and it's his ability to behave humanely that disgusts me.  It means he's weak, Buffy.  My childe is weak."

Buffy appeared at a loss for words.
 
"Which means that I'm jealous that he is stronger than I am and yet weaker than I was."

Buffy shook her head and sighed.  "This sounds like one of those puzzle-wrapped-in-an-enigma, things.  I think I'm getting a headache."

"It's complicated."

Buffy grinned at the vampire.  "You know, it used to drive me crazy whenever Willow explained things away with 'It's complicated,' but I think I'm finally starting to understand just how mixed up you two must be.  I mean, if it's true that you and she were in love once, while you were still human, then I can't imagine what she was feeling when all of the sudden you're a vampire and all you want to do is bathe in her blood."

Angel actually managed a half-smile.  "You've been watching too many bad horror movies, Buffy.  We don't bathe in it, we just drink it...And sometimes to sign important documents.  Oh, and it makes a great substitute if you run out of red watercolors, but it's not so good for bathing."

Buffy made her 'ewww' face then, ignoring him, went on.  "Meanwhile, she with Spike for like, forever, and still comes home with only a few bite marks to show for it.  And even now, they're like...best friends or something.  I have to admit, even I'm feeling a little jealous of their friendship, so you must be...."

Angel nodded.

Buffy sighed.  "Yep, it's complicated all right."  After a moment, the Slayer brightened a little.  "Well, if it cheers you up any, I think we were starting to get through to her tonight.  I thought I saw some doubt creep into her pretty hazel eyes."

"Green," Angel corrected.  "Willow's eyes are green."

"Just making sure you were paying attention," she replied with a grin.

"Where is Willow?"

"She stormed out right after you did.  She was pretty upset."

Angel put his head in his hands and growled.  "I should have known she'd do that.  I'm such an idiot!"

"You're a man," Buffy said with a shrug.  "You can't help it."

Angel vaulted to his feet and began to pace, his boots crushing a path through the shards of broken glass and porcelain on the floor.  "No, don't you see?  We did exactly what Spike was hoping we'd do.  We may have forced Willow's hand tonight.  She may feel she has to choose between Spike and us now."

"Angel, Willow would never ask Spike to turn her.  No matter how mad she is at us, at the world, she wouldn't want that."

Angel paused in his pacing to pick up a large piece of reddish gold pottery that had once been part of his favorite vase.  He looked from it to Buffy.  "I know, but we may have forced Spike's hand as well.  He may not want to wait for her any longer."

Buffy jumped up, now seriously concerned.  "We better get moving."

Angel lay the shard on his desk, which thankfully remained intact, then followed Buffy out of his room and into the main library.  The others were seated around the tables and computers, heavily in to their research.

"Xander," Angel said, "call Willow at home, see if she's there."

Xander closed the book he was reading and tossed it onto a pile of other books before he scowled at Angel. "Why? Are you hungry?  Thinking of using Willow for a little late night snack"

Angel remained calm. Xander had every right to be angry with him.  They all did. "Later, Xander.  Later, you can all yell at me you want about what I've done to Willow in the past.  I'll even spar you blindfolded and with both arms tied behind my back if you wish, but right now, we need to know where Willow is.

Xander stared at him for another long moment, then said, "Fair enough."  He took out his cellphone and hit speed dial #2.  There was no answer.  "What's on your mind, Deadboy?  Are you afraid she'll do something stupid?"

Buffy grabbed her coat and the others' coasts as well.  "Angel thinks we fell into a trap and may have driven her in to Spike's arms."  Buffy made a face.  "We shouldn't have let her go."

"What were we supposed to do?" Cordelia asked.  "Lock her in Oz's cage?"

"I don't know, Cordelia, but we have to do something and we have to do it now.  Research can wait."  She handed Giles and Jenny their coats.  "Giles, why don't you and Ms. Calendar see if Willow went home and is just not answering the phone.  Xander, Cordelia, why don't you check out the Bronze and that little coffee house she likes."  Everyone agreed.

"Cell phones charged?" Angel asked.

"We'll keep in touch," Xander said when everyone nodded.  "What are you two going to do?"

Angel and the Slayer exchanged grim looks.  "Buffy and I are going to pay Spike a visit."

"Are you going to finally dust him?"

Angel gritted his teeth.  He couldn't answer.

Buffy pulled two stakes out of her back pocket and twirled them on the palm of her hand like a Wild West gunslinger.  "We'll do what we have to do to keep Willow safe."
 

It only took one well-placed kick for Angel to open the front door of Spike's mansion.  He and the Slayer entered the foyer side by side just as three vampires rushed in to find out what the commotion was about.

"Where's Spike?" Angel demanded.

The two vampires slid to a stop on the marble floor and looked at each other as if they couldn't quite believe that the Slayer and the vampire with a soul were standing before them.

"He's not here," the one on the right declared.  The other could only nod in agreement.

"We hope you won't be offended if we don't take your word for it," Buffy said, advancing on them, stake in hand.

Angel didn't need to pull out a stake to appear menacing.  The look on his face was warning enough.  "We'll just have a little look around for ourselves."

The two went through the mansion, room-by-room, looking for Spike and subconsciously for Willow as well.  All they found were a lot of over-decorated rooms.  A few vampires took exception to the interruption, so Buffy and Angel with stakes through their chests.

Convinced that neither Spike nor Willow was in the mansion, they decided to leave and search somewhere else.  Buffy had just walked out through the broken front door when Angel turned back one more time to look at the small group of vampires that had assembled in the foyer.

Angel recognized the bespectacled vampire in the center of the group.  It was Dalton, Spike's right-hand man.

"Spike hasn't been home since sunset, but that's not unusual for him," Dalton said.  "We're expecting him back in a few hours, just before sunrise.  You're welcome to wait for him."

Angel chuckled.  He was so polite.  "No thanks.  Just tell him I popped by, and that I'll be back."

Dalton bobbed his head.  "Yes, Sir."

Angel once again started to leave, then halfway through the door he turned around.  "Has a young lady been here tonight?  A woman with red hair, green eyes?"

"No," said a bald male vampire with squinty eyes and a lurid timbre to his voice. "We have not yet had the pleasure of Ms. Rosenberg's company."

With a spine-tingling growl and preternatural speed, Angel vaulted across the room.  He didn't grab the vampire who had spoken but instead the one next to him.  He shoved the surprised vampire against the wall repeatedly and so violently that the room echoed with the sound of his skull cracking against the cold stone.  He then lifted him by the front of the neck until the vampire's feet dangled well above the floor.  "Don't ever say her name again, understand?"

The vampire was nearly unconscious, and unable to reply with more than a gurgle.

"Glad we understand each other."  Angel jammed a stake into the vampire that he was making an example of, and as he turned to dust in his hand, Angel looked pointedly at the other vampires one-by-one, stopping on the one who had spoken.  "Do we have an understanding?"

They all bowed their heads, including Dalton. "Y-yes, Angelus," they said in unison and then ran from the room.

Angel turned to find Buffy standing in the doorway, taking it all in.  He paused, wondering how the Slayer would react to his handling of the vampire.

"Feel better?" she asked, lifting a brow.

Angel rolled his shoulders a bit to loosen up, then followed the Slayer out the door.  "A little," he finally admitted as they went out into the night.  "A little."
 

Willow didn't think when she left Slayer Central.  She walked.  Quickly.

Actually, her gait could be better described as a march or a stomp.  Either way, her fiery steps and where they would take her kept Willow's mind momentarily preoccupied and away from her fight with Angel.  Besides, if she let herself think about what had just happened, she knew she'd cry.  Or scream.  Most likely both.  Walking and/or stomping seemed like a much better use of her anger.

Willow's energy level hadn't depleted an iota by the time she stormed in to Willy's tavern, chin held high like she'd been there a million times before and was fully expecting to hear a welcoming shout of 'Willow!' from the odd crowd at her arrival.

In truth, while she knew Willy's was no 'Cheers,' she had no idea what to expect, having never actually been to the demon hangout before.  She quickly realized that didn't matter much.  The place was dead.  The only person in sight was a greasy-looking guy behind the bar, who she assumed was Willy, the owner.

Willow took a seat on the stool nearest the door, just in case she had to make a quick exit.  She wasn't exactly nervous to be there, although she knew she probably should be considering its reputation.  She was too angry to be scared.  Too angry, confused, sad, apprehensive and more than a little nauseous, but nope...not nervous.  It wasn't like she had much choice, anyway.  After the 'inquisition,' she had no desire to go home.  She didn't want to be 'findable' at all, which meant that her favorite coffee bar was out of the question, as was The Bronze.  Willow needed some time alone to sort out what had happened earlier that night, and if she could have a decent drink at the same time (since Angel's wine seemed to have been non-alcoholic, explaining her complete lack of a buzz) then that was a bonus.  Maybe a quiet drink would help clear away the fog.  But first, she'd had to actually find a place that would serve her, and with its sordid rep, Willy's had quickly come to mind.  Actually, it was the *only* place that came to mind.

Willow didn't wait for the man behind the bar to ask what she wanted or to demand an I.D.  "I'm 135 years old so give me a beer or a shot of whiskey or whatever it is you have here for humans to drink," she commanded in a clear, calm tone.  "Something without any blood or eye of newt in it, okay?"

Willy looked up from his newspaper but didn't even blink at her request.  "Witch?  Faery?  Genie?  Incubus?  Succubus...?"

"Spell mishap."

He nodded as if it were an every day thing.  "You got I.D.?"

"If I had I.D., do you think I'd come here?"

A sleazy grin oozed past his thin lips.  "Now look here, sweetheart.  Just cause my clientele tends to be a bit 'colorful' doesn't mean I can break the law all willy-nilly like."  He chuckled at his own words.  "*Willy*-nilly, get it?"  Willow just stared at him.  "No one has a sense of humor these days," he grumbled, then began poking around under the bar for something.  "Found it," he said, then came around to the front of the bar.  He was holding a large Polaroid-type camera.  Stepping up on the foot rail, he reached behind the glass rack above Willow's head and pulled down on a small plastic ring to reveal a white projection screen.  He latched it to a hook under the lip of the bar, then spun Willow around on the stool so her back was to the screen.  Before Willow could figure out what was going on, the bartender was standing a few feet in front of her, looking through the camera and telling her to, "Say Cheese, sweetie."

Although she wasn't exactly sure what the little man was up to, Willow smiled automatically.  There was a soft click and then a blinding flash.  While she waited for her sight to return to normal, Willow felt for the reassurance of the cross beneath the neckline of her shirt and the stake in her back pocket.  She needed neither.  Willy had already disappeared into the backroom.  Still seeing spots before her eyes, Willow took advantage of the privacy to look around the place.

All in all, Willy's demonic little dive wasn't as bad as she'd expected.  There were no pools of blood on the floor or little plastic nut bowls full of various body parts for casual snacking.  Sure, it was a little dark and dingy, desperately in need of higher watt bulbs, a fresh coat of paint, and some air freshener.  Yet it had a homey, working-class pub-like appeal that made Willow feel strangely at home.  It was the perfect place to dissect her disaster of an evening and generally feel sorry for herself.

"What name do you use?" Willy called from the back, ending Willow's survey of the bar.

"Uh, Willow...Willow Rosenberg," she replied without thinking.

"Good name," he said, still out of sight.  "Almost sounds real."

There was a faint electric whirring sound and less than a minute later, Willy appeared and handed her a small card.  Her jaw dropped.  It was a state I.D. with her name on it, and while it wasn't her best picture, the identification card looked completely authentic.

"That'll be a c-note for the I.D., sweetie," he said.  "Now that you're all legal, what'd you say you want to drink?"

Willow dipped into her front pocket and pulled out five neatly folded twenties.  She'd taken them with her tonight, hoping that Spike would let her pay for a change.  He hadn't of course, which was a lucky thing now.

She slapped the hundred dollars down on the bar in front of Willy, but kept her hand covering the cash. "Throw in a bottle of wine and you've got a deal."

He grimaced as if she'd kicked him in the groin.  "You sure you ain't a faery?  They're cheapskates, too."  Willy went into the back room again then quickly reappeared with a bottle of wine.  He showed it to Willow.  "This do?"

She recognized the label.  It was a common and inexpensive variety of California Merlot, but it was still one of her favorites.  "It'll do," she said, letting him have the money.

Willy opened the bottle, set it and a glass on the bar in front of her, and then went back to reading a racing form.  Willow poured herself a glass of wine and downed it in one unfeminine gulp, hoping it would help clear her mind a little.  She'd expected the mugs of wine she'd consumed earlier would have kept her calm, but they hadn't helped at all.  She sighed.  In a way, it was a shame that she hadn't gotten drunk, then she could have blamed the wine for all of the horrible accusations she'd thrown at Angel.

Willow groaned, letting her head fall to the bar with a painful thud.  How could she have said such terrible things?  Spike more of a man *without* his soul than Angel was *with* one...?  Where the hell had that come from?  She closed her eyes, letting the coolness of the countertop sink into her aching forehead, not caring what Willy must be thinking of her.

Over and over again she tried to make sense of her emotions and why she'd blown up at Angel the way she had.  Sure, Angel hadn't been the most understanding vampire-with-a-soul tonight, but had she really expected a different reaction?  Okay, naybe he'd stepped over the line a little by quoting some of the things Spike had once said to her, but if Angel had stepped over the line, then she'd pole-vaulted over it!

Wearily, Willow lifted her head from the slightly sticky bar top to have another sip of wine.

There was no doubt she'd been very irate and that some of the gang's harsher remarks had helped stoke her anger.  Still, she felt bad.  She really did.

And yet....

And yet, she'd meant all those bitter words she'd said to Angel, and it had felt good...Damn good, in fact, to get it off her chest!

Well, maybe she didn't mean everything she'd said.  She didn't really think Spike was a better man than Angel.  But more in control of demonic side?  Heck yeah, she'd meant that!

Toying with the stem of her glass, Willow let her mind recall previous conversations with Spike.  If Angelus had really loved her when he was human, then why couldn't he control himself around her when he was a vampire?  In other words, why couldn't Angel be more like Spike?

Yep, there's the rub, the source of most of her problems with Angel.

Of course, it didn't help any that her body seemed to have a mind of its own.  Even though she was angry with Angel, just thinking back to their near-kiss earlier that night made heat suffuse her cheeks and a wonderful squishy feeling invade her tummy.

Traitors! she thought accusingly to her face and stomach and the raging hormones that seemed to rule her body.  How could she be so bitter about Angelus and how he'd treated her and yet still long to feel Angel's mouth on her skin?

There was only one answer, she decided as she stared unseeingly at her glass, sipping her wine.  She was severely screwed up.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Willow look at Willy over the rim of her glass.  He was leaning casually against the bar, staring at her as he dried a beer mug.

Willow straightened her spine under his scrutiny yet felt little embarrassment.  She was *way* passed embarrassment.  "You don't exactly look like the kind of bartender that wants to hear people's problems."

He shrugged.  "Don't get many 'people' in here, if you know what I mean.  It might be nice to hear someone complaining about the normal things like parking tickets and politics instead of whining about failed blood sacrifices and the Slayer all the time.  Besides, what else I got to do?" he said, looking around the empty room.

"Is this place always so...dead?" she asked

"Nah, it's usually wall-to-wall scales and tails, but there's a Tom Jones concert over in Springfield, so..."  He shrugged again.

"Tom Jones?  I didn't know he was a big demonic draw."

"You kidding?  The only one bigger is Barry Manilow."

Willow chuckled despite her mood.

"So, you wanna talk about it or what?"

"Sorry, but I don't have anything to talk about, really.  Just a rough night."

"Ah, a lover's spat?"

"Not really," she said, but she could feel her pulse quicken at the mere idea of it.  "I mean, he wasn't my lover.  Not even my boyfriend really, but I guess there was, er, spatting involved."

"You turn his mamma into a toad or something?"

"Something like that," she said with a polite small, hoping he'd change the subject.

The sound of raised voices and laughter drifted in from a back room.  They weren't alone after all.  "What's going on back there?" she asked.

"Poker.  Almost every night there's a game of some sort back there, but it's a small group tonight on account of the concert."

Willow couldn't help grinning.  "Really?  Can anyone join?"

"Anyone meaning you?" he laughed.  "They'll play with anyone who's got enough kittens to buy in."

Kittens?  Willow's eyes widened, but before she could express her outrage, Willy continued.  "Although since Spike started sitting in on a game every now and then, they seem to be playing more for money lately."

Willow swallowed past the lump in her throat.  Spike had never mentioned coming here before.  She blinked at him in her most confused manner.  "Er, Spike?"

"Local head vamp, but he's not here tonight.  Been here a lot lately though.  Now, you think you have love problems?  Compared to that vamp, you've got nothing to worry about, sweetheart."

Still playing as if she'd didn't know Spike, she glanced dully between the bartender and her glass.  "A vampire with love problems?" she grumbled.  "Doubtful."

"Trust me," he said, looking around to make sure they were still the only two in the room.  He leaned across the bar, lowering his voice.  "Like I said, he comes here all the time lately.  Guess the little woman's becoming a real pain in the ass.  Now, if I were him, I wouldn't be complaining.  So what if the old ball-n-chain goes out of town all the time?  I can't tell you how many guys wish their women would get a place in another town and spend most of their time there.  Sounds like the perfect relationship to me."

"You're a true romantic."

He ignored her.  "Strange though.  You'd think a good lookin' vamp like that--"

"He's good looking?"

Willy shrugged.  It was obviously his favorite gesture.  "Can't see many vamps, male or female, kicking him out of bed. Anyways, you'd think he'd be sowing his oats, or whatever the hell vamps have, all over this dirty berg, but no... Not him."

A tightness was forming in Willow's stomach, and part of her didn't want to know anymore, and yet something else drove her to pry for more info.  "No?"

"Don't see how he'd have the time.  He's always in here, grumbling and growling about how ungrateful women are...."

"This vampire, er..."

"Spike," he supplied.

"Spike...he talks to you about his private life?"

"A little.  I've been married three times, so we've both sorta been there, done that, you know?  Only difference is, I have to pay alimony."

At that moment, the phone at the other end of the bar rang and Willy went to answer it, leaving Willow with a ton of unanswered questions and a funny feeling that wouldn't go away.

Willow downed her second glass of wine in one long gulp, trying to chase away the dawning similarities of Willy's and Angel's comments.

But if Spike and Drusilla were having real problems, surely Spike would have told her...?

Frowning, Willow refilled her glass.  She was just about to take a sip when her head suddenly started to spin, making her have to grip the edge of the bar for support.

It was about time the stuff hit her, she thought.  She'd been starting to wonder if Willy had watered down the wine somehow or if alcohol really was weaker now than it used to be.

She closed her eyes, willing the room to stop spinning.  Odd thing was, while she felt very dizzy, she didn't exactly feel drunk.

Willow pried her eyes open when she heard Willy come in from the back room with a tray of dirty glasses.  And as quickly as that, her dizziness passed.  She felt normal again.

"Oh, you three again, huh?" Willy said, looking behind her.  "Want the usual or you trying to cut back?" he asked with a smirk.

Willow turned to look over her shoulder.  Strange.  Three guys were sitting in a booth behind her, but she hadn't heard them come in.

"Very funny," one of the men replied.  He was short and balding and wearing a leather jacket.  "Just bring the drinks."

Willow returned to her own drink, had a sip, then tried to peek at the trio again.  Something about the three men seemed very familiar.  In unison, they looked at her and smiled, then went back to talking quietly amongst themselves.

Where had she seen them before?  She wracked her brain, knowing the answer was right on the edge of her memory, but it kept evading her.

And then, just as it was on the tip of her tongue, another tremendous wave of dizziness washed over her, making her turn back to the bar and rest her head on her arms until it passed.

"You okay, kid?"

Willow lifted her head very carefully.  The dizziness appeared to have passed again, but she wasn't taking any chances.  "I'm fine," she told Willy as he set a Zima, glass of wine, and a bottle of Bartles & James Fuzzy Navel Wine Cooler on the bar.

"Hey, three stooges!" the bartender called.  "Your drinks.  If you can call them that," he added under his breath.  He whispered to Willow, saying, "I'd chase them out, but they're good tippers."

Willow watched carefully as the man with long straggly blond hair came up to the end of the bar.  He wore a faded black Ramones T-shirt and dark-rimmed glasses.  The stranger gave her a weak smile then carefully picked up the three drinks with two hands and took them back to the table.

Sipping her wine, Willow watched as he placed the drinks in front of the appropriate person. The short, older one, who kept looking at his watch, had the wine, while the middle-aged man in the suit took the Zima.

Bloody hell, they looked so familiar!

In unison, the three turned to her again, grinned, and lifted their glasses in toast.

She flashed them a small smile then turned back toward the bar.

She was still wondering why she had the feeling that she knew them when another attack of dizziness and nausea lashed through her body.  She would have fallen off her stool if the man in the suit hadn't taken her by the arm at the last minute.

"You okay, er, Miss?" he asked, helping her to turn back around and lean on the bar.

"Um, yeah...thanks," she said weakly.

He nodded, but he glanced at her half-empty bottle of wine with a look that meant that he didn't believe her.  He set his Palm Pilot on the bar and slid onto the nearest barstool, but he didn't look at her.  He kept his face pointed forward.

Willow blushed.  The man obviously thought she was drunk off her face!  "I'm not drunk, really.  I just seem to be getting these strange dizzy spells lately."

"A half a bottle of wine would do a lot more than make me dizzy," he said, still not looking at her.

She thought it would her as well.  "I know I look kinda small...and young...but I can handle my liquor," she explained, and he nodded, but she didn't think he believed her.  Once again she was struck with a sense of familiarity.  "Um, have we met..."  Another violent bout of dizziness, the worst one yet, stopped her from completing the question.

"Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?" he asked as if he hadn't heard her speak or noticed her condition.  "It's, uh, for a paper we're doing."

"For our philosophy course," the chubby one said, coming up to take the empty stool next to the bearded man.

"More of a dissertation, really." the blond guy added as he too came to the bar with drink in hand.  He took the seat next to the blond.

Willow closed her eyes, hoping it would ease the dizziness, which it did. "Sure," she said, keeping her eyes shut for the moment.  "Why not."  Maybe it would help take her mind off of her problems.

"If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?"

Willow chuckled but kept her eyes closed.  "A willow tree, of course," she said.

Willow opened her eyes just a little when she heard some murmuring beside her.  The three men were leaning together, apparently entering her answers into a Palm Pilot.  Absent mindedly, she startled fiddling with her cross.

The same voice asked, "If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?"

Willow rolled her eyes, even though they were closed.  "Of course.  Sound waves do not require an ear in order to exist."

"What came first, the chicken or the egg?"

She frowned this time and opened her eyes.  What kind of thesis were they working on, anyway?  "Neither," she replied.

They grinned, seeming to like that answer.  "Most people say both," the blond said.

Willow downed the last of the wine in her glass then refilled it, emptying the bottle.  She kept her eyes forward.  It seemed like she only felt dizzy when she turned her head.  Maybe she had an inner ear infection or something that was messing up her equilibrium.

The men continued to consult each other, play with their Palm Pilot, and ask her odd questions.  She drank and played along with their little game.  It was kinda fun, although she couldn't see any possible benefit to be gained from such questioning.

"Last one," the short man eventually said.  "If there were a way, today, for you to stop the Titanic from sinking back in 1912, would you?"

Willow spun to face them.  Suddenly the word game didn't seem quite so fun.  "What kind of joke are you playing?" she demanded.  "Did Xander put you up to this?"

"No," they said in unison.  "No one put us up to anything.  Just answer the question.

No.  She hated the question, having asked herself the same question and ones like it, hundreds of times before.  If we could go back and change past events, should we, even if it seems to be for the better?

She stared dejectedly in to her glass.  "I don't like the question and I don't feel like playing anymore," she said softly.

"Please," the man with the beard said. "This last question is vital to our work.  Just be honest with yourself and with us."

Willow emptied her wine again, reached for the bottle for another refill before she realized it was empty.  She'd already emptied the entire bottle!

She sighed, then finally said, "No."  A shudder rippled beneath her skin, giving her goose bumps.  "No, I wouldn't," she repeated, and realized she meant it with all her heart.  "Playing with time is too dangerous.  There's no way of knowing the consequences of something like that."

No, time wasn't something to be played around with.  Every change could have catastrophic events in the future.  She'd been lucky that she and Spike hadn't seemed to do more than change a few relationships and fill some wallets, at least as far as she knew.  And yet, she'd always wondered what else had changed...what other lives had they affected without even knowing it?  The very thought made her dizzy again.

"Exactly what's your thesis?" she asked when her head stopped spinning.  But when she turned to the face the three men, they were no longer there.  They must have quietly slipped out while she was lost in her own thoughts.  It was just her and Willy again.

"Need another bottle or would you prefer an actual cask of wine this time," Willy asked, finally looking up from his racing form.

Willow pushed her empty glass away.  "Think I've had enough.  Besides, I don't want to drink you dry."

"Got tons of the stuff.  Spike ordered it.  He said that soon he wouldn't be the only one here drinking the stuff.  Apparently he's got some other hot little number on the side who likes it too."

"Another vampire?"

"Nah, some human chick he's been hanging around with off and on for a while," Willy said off-handedly as he started to wipe down the bar.  "He's going to turn her soon.  Said he's just waiting for the right time."

Willow's hands started to shake, and suddenly the thought of another bottle of wine became very appealing.  "Doesn't sound like this vampire of yours has much to complain about if he already has some other woman ready to spend eternity with him."

Standing across the bar from Willow, he crooked a finger, beckoning her to come closer.  Holding her breath, she leaned in closer and Willy said in a hoarse whisper, "I got the feeling that the new chickadee in his life ain't too keen to be on a strict blood-only diet for the next few hundred years, if you get my drift."

Willow took a deep breath, hoping it would stop the rising bile in her throat.  "You mean, she doesn't want to be a vampire and live forever?" she somehow managed to ask.

Willy barked out a laugh.  "Nah!  Go figure, eh?  Hey, maybe you should talk to her," the bartender suggested.  "Seeing as you've been around a while, maybe you could tell her that not-dying ain't so bad.  My buddy Spike's loaded and I'm sure he'd be very appreciative of your assistance."

His buddy Spike?  Somehow Willow couldn't imagine Spike referring to Willy as his buddy.  Not the Spike she knew anyway.

Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought she did?

No! Willow screamed silently.  She wasn't going to let Angel's jealous words and the gossiping of a slimy bartender making her doubt her relationship with Spike.

She cleared her throat.  "Not quite the same though, is it?  See, I didn't have to kill people to stay alive or sacrifice my soul."

"Yeah, you're right.  Better not talk to her...you'd make it sound pretty dull.  Not that I care whether this broad gets vamped or not, but Spike's my best customer.  Hate to lose him when I just ordered a new jukebox and a Ms. Pac-Man machine.  Should be here next week, if you're interested."

Willow forced a smile.  "Sounds great...looking forward to it..."  She stood up.  "Thanks for your help with the, er, I.D."

"No problem, kid," he said as she headed for the exit.  "Anyone who can put a bottle of wine away like you do is welcome in my place anytime."

****
End Chapter 21 (archived April 30, 2004)

The chilly night air whistled through the alley, stinging Willow's cheeks like a badly needed slap in the face. The temperature seemed to have dropped twenty degrees while she'd been inside Willy's seedy bar, and now Willow felt ice cold on the inside as well.

As she warily made her way across town via many of the dank and dark side streets of Sunnydale, Willow came to a few conclusions.  The first being that while all the brisk-yet-wary walking gave her lots of time to think and was probably good for her health, not to mention her thighs, she really, really needed to get her driver's license.  The second conclusion was that Willy had to have been mistaken about Spike, because Spike had repeatedly promised to never make her a vampire.  He'd promised!

Besides, there was no telling how many filthy rich, British, blond, leather-wearing vampires named Spike resided in Sunnydale.  Right?

Yeah, right.

Willow tried to ignore all the nagging doubts picking away in her mind.  There was bound to be a reasonable explanation.  Hey, for all she knew, maybe Spike had become some sort of role model for vampires everywhere.  Maybe he had hordes of groupies, who dressed and acted just like him, flocking to Sunnydale.  And it was only a coincidence that what the bartender had said was similar to Angel's warnings.  Right?

Or maybe Angel had put Willy up to the lies?  Yeah, that was it!  Angel somehow knew that she'd end up at Willy's, and he convinced--no, forced! --the sleazy bar owner to repeat the ludicrous story that Angel had obviously made up just to....

To...?  To what?  Win her love?  Unlikely, since all of Angel's warnings only created more tension between them, as if they didn't have enough of that already!

So that was where all of her already ridiculous ideas completely fell apart.  Spike was up to something, and Willow deserved to know the truth.

By the time Willow reached Spike's mansion, she was way beyond polite doorbell ringing.  As she checked her back pocket one last time to make sure she still had her stake, Willow told herself it was only in case one of Spike's followers mistook her for dinner delivery.  After a deep breath, Willow pounded on the impressive arched entry door with her fist.  To her surprise, it flew open easily and with enough force that it whacked a couple of vampires who'd been standing next to it.  One of them was holding a screwdriver, the other what appeared to be a broken hinge.

Not having time to wonder about the door, Willow glared at the amber-eyed vampires who she had caught off guard.  "Where's Spike?" she demanded in her don't-you-even-dare-mess-with-me tone, reinforced by her resolve face.

The vampires took a step back, looked at her, then at each other, then back at her again.  It wasn't difficult to see Spike's point about how hard it is to find quality minions.

Rolling her eyes, Willow moved further into the foyer, almost wishing one of them would make a move to stop her.  Staking a vampire would have felt pretty good at that moment.

"Listen closely," she told the confused vamps.  "If Spike is here, get him.  Now!  And if Spike isn't here, get him.  Now!"  She gave that a moment to sink in, then asked, "Got it?"

They nodded and quickly scattered into the shadows.  She didn't know whether she'd really scared them or even if they were scampering off to follow her instructions.  She didn't care.  The sun would be coming up soon.  If Spike wasn't home now, he would be shortly.

As she strolled through the mansion, Willow's thoughts flashed back to the night so long ago when Spike had kidnapped her and Xander.  He'd brought them here threatening to kill Xander if she didn't cooperate.  After that, it was all candles, chants, blood and corsets.

The mansion appeared in much better shape now.  Spike obviously had invested a tidy sum in its upkeep, if the highly polished floors and cobweb-free crystal chandeliers were anything to go by.

Frowning, Willow wandered into the library and found a crackling fire in the massive marble and stone fireplace.  The walls of the large, high-ceilinged room were lined top to bottom with dark wooden shelves, each one crammed full of books.  Plush, deep chairs filled every corner, and Willow found herself longing to sink into one and make herself comfortable reading one of the nearby books.  She could probably spend a century in this room and still never finish all the books!

The thought sent an icy chill rippling through her body, but she reminded herself how much Spike used to love to read.  Obviously, he still did.  She moved to warm herself in front of the fireplace, but even its dancing flames couldn't seem to stop her trembling.

As she waited, a couple of different vampires popped their heads around the corner then disappeared just as quickly.

"Spike!" she finally called at the top of her longs, tired of waiting.  "If you're here, I need to talk to you!"

A male vampire appeared in the opposite doorway through which she'd entered.  "Spike's not here," he said.

She turned to face the vampire, ready to reach for her stake if need be, but he made no attempt to come closer.

They studied one another.  By the looks of his thick-rimmed glasses and conservative dress, Willow figured this must be the miracle-working undead accountant.  She couldn't help noticing that he didn't exactly seem surprised to see her, either.

"You're Dalton, right?" she asked.

He nodded and took a couple of easy steps closer.  Willow pulled out her stake.  Dalton stopped moving and held up his hands.  She wasn't sure if it was a gesture of surrender or if he were trying to assure her that he meant no harm.  Either way, Willow didn't worry.  She had little doubt she could get rid of Dalton without breaking a sweat.  She didn't want to, but she would if necessary.

"Where's Spike?" she asked.

"Out, but he'll be back soon.  You may wait for him, if you wish, but may I suggest you do so in the garden?  I think it would be less disturbing to the others and safer for you, as well."  Dalton motioned for her to follow, then left the way he came.  Reluctantly she left the library's crackling fire and followed him out to a terraced garden in the back of the house.  Willow took a seat in one of the wrought-iron chairs that surrounded a cinnamon-colored stone tabletop while Dalton lit a variety of candles, torches and braziers around the patio.

"May I get you anything while you wait, Ms. Rosenberg?" he asked when he'd finished.  "Glass of red wine, perhaps?"

"No thanks," she replied with a frown.  Polite vampires made her nervous, even more nervous than ones that knew her name.

Although the secluded garden was nicely sheltered from the late-Autumn wind, as soon as Dalton was gone, Willow moved her chair closer to one of the flaming braziers.  She wasn't exactly cold, at least not on the outside, but the fire's heat was reassuring as she pondered what she had seen so far.

"Red, now this is a surprise."

Willow vaulted to her feet and turned to find Spike and Dalton standing by the French doors that lead back into the mansion.  She'd been so lost in her thoughts--she had no idea for how long--that she hadn't even heard Spike enter the garden.  And was it her over-active imagination or did his smile look strained tonight?

"Now, what fun would it be if I told you I was coming?" she replied, trying to keep her tone playful and light.

Spike nodded to Dalton.  "Bring wine then feel free to sod off."  When his minion was gone, Spike went to Willow and gave her a quick hug before holding her at arm's length. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, pet, but what if Dru were here."

"Is she?"

Spike's jaw clenched and he released her. "I told you Dru's away for the weekend with the girls."  He looked over his shoulder.  "What's keeping that pillock with our wine," he grumbled.

"And how often did you say she does that?" Willow asked, turning back to the fire and pretending to warm her hands.  She was afraid Spike would be able to see the growing doubt in her eyes, so she focused instead on the ever-changing flames.

"Only 'bout once a month, which is why I can't spend as much time with you as I'd like."  With a long pale finger under her chin, Spike gently turned Willow's face toward him.  "Still, this isn't the best place for our little tête-à-têtes, Red.  Don't want the help yammering on about us to Dru now, do we?"

At that point, Dalton scurried back in carrying a tray that held two silver goblets and a bottle of red wine.

"Why not? Are you ashamed of me?" she teased, or at least tried to.  To her own hypersensitive ears, it seemed blaringly obvious that she was trying to hide something.  Luckily, Spike seemed too absorbed in watching Dalton fill their glasses to note any irregularities in her tone or manner.

When the wine was poured, Spike handed her a goblet and winked.  "Just trying to keep you alive, Red.  That's all."

Dalton cleared his throat.  "It's only twenty-two minutes until sunrise.  Would you like me to prepare Ms. Rosenberg's room?"

Willow barely managed not to choke on her wine, but she was sure that her shock at the vampire's words must have been apparent for all to see.  Prepare her room?  She had a room here?  Why would she have a room unless...?

For a moment, she thought she was going to be sick, but she fought the bile that was rising in her throat by gulping the remainder of her wine.  Her eyes stung and her stomach burned, but she could not fall apart now, not if she was going to find out the truth.

Quickly, she schooled her features as best she could and glanced at Spike.  He had turned his back to her and was saying something to Dalton that she couldn't quite hear, but from the pinched look on Dalton's face, it was obvious that Spike was not pleased.  With what sounded like a murmured apology, Dalton bowed and hurried away.  Willow refocused on the fire.

"You'll have to excuse Dalton," Spike said with a chuckle that sounded more than a little forced.  "For an accountant, the bloke doesn't have much common sense.  Don't know what the git's going on about half the time."  Spike downed all his wine, then refilled both goblets.

Willow sat back down by the fire.  "Strange how they all seem to know me," she said offhandedly, as if it were barely worth her time to think about it.  "Your, er, minions, I mean."  She took a sip of her wine, making herself actually taste it this time.  It was another one of her favorites, and yet tonight it tasted bitter.

With a chipped black fingernail, Spike picked at a fleck of cork floating in his wine.  "Told you, pet.  I warned them all not to touch you."

"That's right," she said, almost to herself.  "I'd almost forgotten that."

Spike half-leaned, half-sat on the stone table so that he looked down at her.  "Now, you going to tell me why you're really here?  I can tell something's on your mind, love."

Willow stared down into her goblet and let her fake smile dissolve.  It wasn't difficult.  "You know why I'm here, Spike."

"Do I?"

She nodded weakly.  "I had a disagreement with the others.  No big deal."

"Big enough to bring you here at the crack of dawn," he said in his most gentle voice.  Normally, that tone in Spike's voice made Willow relax.  It was Spike's 'caring' voice, the one that she accused Angel of needing a soul to create.  And for the past decade or so, it was this tone in Spike's voice that had made Willow feel at home no matter where they were.

Tonight, though, she felt lost, hopelessly lost, and she couldn't trust Spike to help her find her way home.

"I'm okay," she lied, offering a feeble smile.

"Then why do those lovely green eyes of yours look as if they'd cried a river, Red?"

Willow quickly wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.  They were dry now, but had she really been crying?  She couldn't remember.  "I feel so...betrayed by them.  I guess I came here because I didn't want to be alone."

Gently, he tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, like he had a million times before, although, of course, it had been longer back then.  "You'll never be alone, Willow."

Willow made herself look up from her glass even though she was terrified of what she might see in his face.  Spike's blue, searching eyes held no malice.  In fact, they looked a bit sad and lonely.  He looked as lost as she felt.

"Never?" she asked, still clinging to a thread of hope that somehow everyone else was wrong about Spike.

"Never," he repeated with a sudden quiet ferocity that caused her breath to catch in her chest.  He looked away and took another slow sip of wine.

When Willow's heart resumed its normal rhythm, she tried to tell herself that she was reading too much into everything.  After all, she hadn't had any sleep and had consumed about two bottles of wine, so maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed.

But she had to be sure, which meant she'd have to be more direct.

Willow slipped in to poker mode, picturing herself holding a pitiful hand, maybe a pair of sixes off-suit at best.  Mentally, she slid a pile of chips into the center of the table. It was time to see his bluff with one of her own.

She shook her head and chuckled.  "I'm not so sure Drusilla would like that."

Spike quickly emptied his goblet for the second time.  "Dru'll get used to it, in time.  I take it the Scabby Gang didn't like what they heard?"

"Not at all." Willow sighed, letting her shoulders sag despondently as she stared at the ground.  "They're disgusted with me, actually.  Especially Xander and Buffy.  They told me to get out and not come back.  You get the idea."

"What about Angel?  Surely he wasn't as unreasonable as the rest, considering the git's in love with you."

"He didn't say much after you left.  Went all broody, reminding me very much of Buffy's old Angel."  She shrugged.  "Who knows.  Maybe if I'm not around, history will repeat and they'll find each other again."

His eye's narrowed.  "And what about you, pet?  You plan on beggin Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy to take you back?"

"I do need to talk to Oz, but no, it's too late for us."  Willow took a deep breath and then lowered her voice.  "Besides, to be honest, I kinda associate sex and biting now.  Since Oz is a werewolf, biting would be bad."

Spike leaned forward, and Willow noticed the empty goblet was trembling in his hands.  Nevertheless, the lascivious grin on his face made him look anything but nervous.  "Liked the biting, did ya?"

The blush rising to her cheeks was genuine, but this probably wasn't a good time to remind Spike that he wasn't the only vampire that had left his mark upon her throat or her psyche.  "You know I did, and you don't have to be so cocky about it."

Spike rose, quickly refilled his goblet, drank it dry yet again, and then set down his glass.  He set hers down as well and then studied her for a moment.

"Sounds like there's only one thing to do, then, Red."

Something had changed n Spike's eyes over the past few minutes.  They'd taken on an icy edge.  Like steel.  He no longer looked lost.  He looked calculating.

"What's that, Spike?"

"Come with me, Red!  We'll get the hell out of this damned place, start somewhere new."

Willow felt a spark of hope, but she had to keep pressing him.  "I dunno, Spike.  Besides, I'm such a mess.  You must be sick of picking up the pieces for me by now."

"Remember, I've seen you at your worst, and I've seen you at your best.  While this is far from either...."

"Oh, really?  I won't deny you've seen me at my worst, Spike, but my best?  When was I at my best?"

"When you were naked in my bed."

"No, I think my best was when I was flipping you over my shoulder and stepping over your prone body..." She matched his wicked grin.  Even at such a pivotal time in their relationship, it was all too easy to fall into their normal pattern, full of teasing banter.  "Or perhaps that was your best?"

"No, definitely when you were naked beneath me...although naked on top of me comes in a bloody-close second."

Willow managed a laugh.  "But things were different then.  There was the spell, and no Drusilla.  I can't see her wanting to share you with me, Spike, even if we are just friends."

For the briefest moment, Spike's jaw clenched.  Was it because she'd said 'friend'?

"Dru'll adjust, pet.  Besides, they make king-sized beds for a reason."

Willow rose from her chair and turned away from him, hugging herself to try to ignore the nausea rising deep within. Around them, the birds were beginning to sing, and the sky was lightening, taking on the colors of purple velvet. It was nearly dawn, and she was running out of time. She had to push him further.  She had to be sure.

"First of all, Spike, ewww!" she managed in a light-hearted tone.  "Secondly, we both know Drusilla would kill me first chance she gets."

"Doesn't have to be that way, Willow."  He'd drawn silently closer, his lips near her ear.  "Say the word, Red, and you'll never have to worry about death again."  She shivered as his cool lips grazed her ear, then shuddered as her world began to fall apart.  There was little chance of mistaking his meaning now.

With great effort, Willow turned back around.  He was so near, and it would have been all too easy to lean against him, let him fold her into his arms, taking comfort there like she had for years.

But she didn't, and she wondered if she ever would again.

"No, Spike," she said firmly, looking him straight in the eye and raising the stakes yet again.  "I do not want to be a vampire, and you know that."

He stared down at her, angry and torn.  Indecision was all over his face, and she knew instinctively that if they'd been playing poker, he would have just revealed his 'tell' to her.

Then he chuckled and grinned and stepped back a few paces, but it was all fake.  "I don't think you know what the bloody hell you want, pet."  He turned away to refill her goblet.  When he turned back, he was calm again.  "Let's have more wine."

Willow ignored the offered wine.  She couldn't stop now, even though she was already pretty sure of the outcome. "Spike, what would have happened if you were too late?"

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to save me from all those vamps in the park a couple of months ago.  What if I'd been mortally wounded and dying when you found me?"

Spike concentrated on his wine but managed a rough chuckle.  "Bloody hell.  What's got you feeling all morbid tonight?  Cheer up and have another spot of wine."

Willow took a step closer to the vampire, and he tensed.  "What would you have done if I were at death's door, Spike."

"Simple," he growled.  "I'd have nailed the bloody door shut."

"How?"

"Doesn't matter, pet.  Didn't happen, did it?  And it won't happen."

She raised the stakes higher still.  "Come on, Spike.  Play along.  What if ?"

"You've been taking care of yourself for a century, Red, and it seems to me you're finally getting the hang of it.  With the rest of the Scabby Gang hanging about, I'm sure you would have been right as rain."

"Would you have let me die?"

Spike remained silent for a time, then turned to look her straight in the eye.  He took out a cigarette and lit it, all without breaking eye contact with her.  He took a long drag.  "Shouldn't you be running along home now?" he finally asked with smirk.

"Not until I get an answer."

"Don't ask, Willow!"

"It's too late. I already did."

Spike actually backed away a few paces, running one hand through his hair in obvious frustration.  He whirled around to face the wall.  "Haven't you learned anything, Red?  Don't ask questions if you're not willing to hear the answers!"

"I already know the answer, Spike.  I just want to hear you say it."

He spun back around, flicked his cigarette away and stalked up to Willow until she was forced to take a step back.   "Bloody hell, woman!  Do you really expect me to just let you go when I can give you life?" he demanded in a near growl.

"But you promised!"

"You and I belong together, Red.  Don't you bloody-well see that yet?  You don't belong with them, you belong with me!"

"Belong?" she spat.  The word smacked of ownership.

"Oh, don't look so bloody shocked, Red.  It's fate.  Says so right here," he said, holding out his palm.  He pointed to some of the creases on his hand.  "That old gypsy bird told me that the three of us would be together forever."

Willow swallowed hard.  "Three?"

"You, me and Dru, of course."

Willow couldn't speak, she could barely breath.  Spike pointed to her hand.  "It says so right there, Willow."

Willow looked at her palm, with its three main intertwining lines, then looked at Spike's.  His palm also had a trio of crisscrossing lines, but they were different.  Tekla's words from so long ago echoed in her ears:

   "There is a joining of three lines. They come from different  directions and meet.  The lines cross back and forth, sometimes appearing  as one, other times as three separate lines.  It goes back into your past  and forward into your future. There are times when the lines separate, but  always they are close by."

Suddenly, Willow was very frightened.  She tried to pull her hand away, but Spike's hold on her tightened and he drew her to him.  Willow shrank back, but her anger was starting to overrule her fear.

"Bloody hell, Willow," he said, almost laughing as he released her.  "I'm not going to kill you--"

"Not now you mean!" she shouted, interrupting.

His eyes flashed amber.  "Bloody, bloody, bloody hell!" he bellowed in frustration.  "I have never seen a woman so stubborn and so bloody stupid that she'd give up the chance to stay looking young and beautiful forever.  I'm offering you eternal life, Willow!"

"You're not offering me anything, Spike!  An offer implies a choice, but you're not giving me a choice, are you?  You never planned on giving me one.  All this time you've been pretending.  Lying!  You never intended to leave town or to let me lead a normal life."

"I was, Red.  I was going to leave, come back in a decade or so, but..."

"But?"

"After what happened when you were idiotic enough to go patrolling with the Scabby Gang....  You're so damn fragile, Red, and you're living on a bloody hellmouth!  I can't take the chance that anything'll happen to you when I'm not here.  So yeah, I admit it.  I'll not let you die...not on my bloody watch...not ever!"

"I won't let you turn me, Spike."

"Really?  And what are you going to do about it, Willow?  You're human now.  I'm a vampire.  I'm stronger, faster.  And too right you don't have a bloody choice in this, pet.   But it doesn't matter.  Either way, when you wake up, powerful, immortal, you'll thank me."

Willow wasn't quite sure how it got there, didn't remember slipping it out of her back pocket, but somehow she gripped a stake in her hand.  She felt sick, and for a moment, Spike looked hurt.

But only for a moment.  "Could you really kill me, Red?" he asked with a lazy drawl.  "Drive a stake through my heart after all this time?"

Willow straightened her spine, squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin.  "I thought I'd killed Angelus once to save my life.  I can do the same to you.  Besides, you want to kill me, so what's the difference?"

"The difference is, I'd make you eternal.  You'd make me a ruddy pile of ashes."

"Quit kidding yourself.  You'd be murdering me and letting a demon takeover!  And what do you think I'll be like as a vampire, Spike?  You think I'll be the same old Willow but with a craving for blood instead of chocolate?  You think I'll still want to strum the guitar and play poker?  You have no way of really knowing what I'll be like when I'm vamped, do you?  Because there's no set pattern for the blending of the human personality and the demon, is there?"

Spike looked as if he were about to explode.  Every vein on his forehead and neck swelled in response to his anger and frustration.  "You don't get it, pet.  I don't care what the bloody hell you turn out like, as long as you're with me!"

Willow recoiled.  Spike's words had hit her like a flying drop-kick to the heart, hurting her more than any other blow he'd ever dealt her.  He'd done it again...somehow he managed to hurt her more than she'd ever thought possible.  He didn't care about her, not really.  Spike just didn't want to be alone.  Anyone that looked or sounded like her would do, no matter what was--or more importantly wasn't--on the inside.

Trembling from head to toe, Willow took an unsteady step back.

Spike seemed confused, and then his eyes widened, apparently just realizing what he'd said.  "Oh, don't look at me like that, Red.  You know that's not what I meant."

She took another step back.  "Yes, you did, Spike.  That's exactly what you meant.  You don't care about me.  You're just afraid to be alone.  You're afraid that things may not work out with Drusilla, so you want me around for back up."

Spike smiled, all boyish charm and innuendo, and reached out his hand, palm up.  "This is ridiculous, Red.  You don't believe that bloody load of tripe, do you?"

She took another slow step back, away from the vampire until she could feel the first rays of the morning sun warming the air behind her.  "I'm not sure what to think anymore."

Spike edged carefully closer, his eyes holding hers.  "Willow, you know that you and Dru are the only things I have--"

"I am not a thing, Spike," Willow interrupted.  Her hands were clenched at her sides.  One more sliding step back...so close now.  "And you don't have me."

Spike threw back his head and growled at the sky. When his eyes found hers again, all she could see was desperation.  "That's not what I meant, Willow," he said, softening his tone as he took another step closer.  "You're mucking up my words. What I was trying to bloody say is that you and Dru are the most important people in my life."

"No, Spike.  You're the most important person in your life."
 
And then she stepped back one last time and was enveloped by the sunshine.  Spike moved to follow but then stopped at the edge of the sunlight that separated them.  Darkness and light.  Life and death.  Black and white.

Maybe Buffy was right after all.

"Red?  Willow?  Please, come back inside so we can chat about this.  It's just a bloody misunderstanding, that's all."

Willow schooled her breathing, but she didn't try to quench her anger.  At the moment, anger was the only thing keeping her standing.  "One of us needs to leave Sunnydale, Spike.  Who's it going to be?  You or me?"

"Damn it, Red!  Quit being so bloody melodramatic and get in here so we can talk."

"No more talking, Spike.  All I want to know is which one of us is leaving town tomorrow."

Spike began to pace back and forth along the edge of the shadow on the ground, which was moving ever so slowly up the patio, and with each passing moment shrinking the amount of shade that was protecting Spike, dragging him back to the safety of the mansion.  "You don't need to do this, Red.  You can trust me."

Willow laughed sharply.  "Oh, please!  I'd sooner trust Angelus.  At least he was honest about his plans for me."

She had barely spoken his sire's name when Spike lunged for her, letting his duster protect him from the soft morning light.  Grabbing her wrist, he jerked Willow into the shade, swinging her around so that her back hit the stone wall, knocking the breath out of her.  He released her wrist to hold her by her upper arms.  "Don't you ever, ever compare me to Angelus again, pet!" he growled, his eyes glowing amber.

Willow gasped for air, the pain bringing tears to eyes that were wide with fright.  Seeing her distress, Spike composed himself.

"Bloody hell, Willow," he murmured, and suddenly she was in his arms.  "I didn't mean to hurt you.  I just don't want you to leave until we sort this all out, all right?"

Finally able to take a full breath, Willow released it slowly, willing her body to relax against his.  "Okay, Spike," she murmured against his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

"I'm sorry, pet.  So sorry."

"So am I, Spike.  So am I."

Her leg sweep caught Spike completely by surprise.  At the same time she pushed him back easily, pulling her arms up and through his to break their hold.  She was already sprinting for daylight before he'd completely hit the ground.  He grunted at the impact, then lay there, staring up at the small overhang of the roof that was protecting him from becoming ash.

"You got me, Red.  Should have seen that coming."  He pushed himself up on his elbows and spun around until he was slumped back against the mansion wall next to the French doors.  He didn't look directly at where she was standing at the far end of the garden, completely bathed in sunlight and definitely out of his reach this time.

"Are you leaving Sunnydale or not?" she asked.

Spike straightened a bit.  He made his normal big show of looking for his cigarettes, lighting one slowly and enjoying an exaggerated first draw.  Willow had to bite her lip to keep from demanding an answer at that very moment.  Finally, he looked at her, straight in the eye.

"Funny thing, pet, but I'd always meant to get this whole patio covered so I could enjoy a bit more of the day."  He drew his feet closer to his body and away from the creeping edge of daylight.  He took another long, slow drag.  "I like this place, suits me, you know?"

"If you mean cold and empty, you're right."

Spike clucked his tongue.  "No need to get snarky, pet, just because you've got a lot of packing to do."

"You're not leaving then?"

"I think not.  You see I'm a bloody homeowner now, pet.  Have responsibilities, roots.  If you're so bloody insistent that one of us has to go, then you can sod off.  I'm not budging."  Smirking now, he looked up at the small covering overhead again.  "Yep, think I'll see 'bout getting that awning done straight away.  Drusilla would love to have it for spring."  Spike directed his gaze at Willow again, and this time it was ice cold.  When he smirked, there was no boyish charm this time, no teasing.  Her friend Spike was already gone.

"So be it," she said.  Even to her own ears, her voice sounded alien.  There was no trace of emotion, not even anger or pain.  It was flat...empty.

As if by remote control, Willow turned and methodically climbed the moss-covered steps that led up and out of the far side of the garden.

She didn't look back, keeping her steps steady and deliberate until she had crossed the street into the empty lot that backed onto a small park.  When Willow was sure she was no longer in view of the mansion, she fall to her knees, vomiting repeatedly until there was nothing left but the bitter taste of bile in her mouth and the ache of exhaustion.

That's how Buffy found her, kneeling on shaking limbs behind a bush.  Without a word, Buffy helped her to her feet.

Willow's dry eyes searched out Buffy's, which were moist with tears.  There wasn't a shred of 'I told you so' in their hazel depths, only regret and maybe even a little understanding.

"Buffy...I need your help."

The Slayer nodded and slipped her arm around Willow's waist to steady her.  They didn't speak as they made their way back to Willow's house, and while a tear or two managed to slip down Buffy's cheek; Willow's eyes remained dry.

End Chapter 22 (archived on Carries' Site July 28, 2004)