Spike looked out over one of the many jungles of Africa. It had been almost three months since he started out on this quest for his soul. As Spike lost himself in thought he wasn't surprised that Buffy's was not the face he saw anymore. No it was his little mousy redhead that came to mind. When the dreams first started almost five months before, he was taken by surprise. He always liked Willow, hell he thought she was damn sexy the first time he saw her. There was always something about her that called to his inner William, and now mixed with some rather risqué dreams starring her, and what did ya get? A very confused vampire, that's what ya got. When he first went after his soul it had been an act confirming his deep love for Buffy. He so fiercely wished respect and a return of love from this absurdly sad young girl.

But what does he get? More preoccupied with his red headed witch! What a right ponce I am, he berated himself. God only knew how his inner poof would react when given the steering wheel once again. He was more confused every minute.

Why, he thought, why did he fall in love with a bloody slayer of all people, only to next fall for her best friend. Poof with a capital P! Then again, maybe someday he would end up with the comely witch. Yeah, someday, if he could suss out this soul search. He took a drag off his cigarette. This was going to be an interesting year.

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Willow stared up at the ceiling of Giles' guess bedroom. England wasn't so bad, and the Covent was a really good place to learn how to control magic. Now, if only her freaky dreams would cease, she could breathe easier. And those completely weird feelings for Spike that were increasing lately, what was up with that? There had been nights in the dark when sleep was elusive, when the images of the bad boy vampire had been pleasant to play with in her imagination. But he was as distant as the guy in the underwear ad, or the football captain from high school. Now, the images of Spike pressing against her, moving to bite her neck, they dominated her mind. It was no longer harmless fantasy. She felt tugged toward a place she never saw, pulled in a nonexistent direction.

It was a feeling that was alien, and therefore scarey.

She set her mind to solving the square root of 30 to eight decimals. The numbers tumbled in her brain, forming into a coherent line that comforted the young witch. Math was hard logic, something that centered her. Let's see, six ... yes, 6 point 079-

The numbers scattered and then resorned in a dense composite of a lean, high-cheekboned face, spiked bleached hair and a sardonic smile.

"Oh look," she said aloud, "it's Marilyn Monroe."

But it was not Marilyn's face, try as she might. Spike,s face filled her mind's eye. Willow leaned over and turned on the lamp, and still the vampire's face filled her vision. She pinched herself to make sure she was awake.

"Ouch," she muttered. She sighed and turned off the light. "Ouch."

In the dark she suddenly heard a scraping, as of someone walking across the floor.

"Wh-who's there," she squeaked. The hairs on her nape stiffened, and she sensed danger near.

"Quilla non paragona," she whispered, the spell to keep a bubble of safety around her bed. "Aceron clunis foetidis arieto, ab animus abluo abdico acetum." She felt better as she finished, but then something sunk onto the bed next to her.

"Some frickin' spell," she thought.

The lamp went on.

"Spike."

"'Ello Love."

He looked down at Willow with a mild expression.

"Wha-what are you doing here."

"You don't know?" His eyebrows rose in that jaunty quizzical look she remembered. "You did want me to come, eh?"

She felt flustered. Her face grew hot. "No, no no. You're not welcome here. I never invited you in."

He laughed. "But you did." He tapped his temple with a long forefinger. "Up here. Y' wanna admit it."

Willow remained frozen.

"I want you as much as you want me, my sweet little witch."

He leaned forward, his lips ready for a kiss. Willow started to close her eyes, but stopped. Wasn't this what she wanted? She found herself rising to meet his kiss, anticipating the softness of his mouth.

Spike pounced like lightning and his face was at Willow's neck. His teeth pierced into her and the Willow screamed as her blood spurted into the vampire's mouth.

Her eyes opened. It was morning, and the pain in her neck was a crick from sleeping wrong.
"Dream," she said. She realized her voice sounded disappointed.

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