Disclaimer: See chapter 1, or 6.

PART 8

(September 2001)

Willow took a deep breath and knocked on the door of Spike's crypt. She hadn't been here since she'd slept with him... which, technically was a year and a half ago, but to her was only two weeks ago. She'd been practicing her story all day long, and had it all memorized. As soon as the door swung open however, and she was faced with Spike's naked chest, she forgot her explanation.

He scowled down at her, and waved her in. "'Bout time."

Willow kept her eyes on the floor as she pushed past him. Naked Spike chest was bad. Very bad. Avoid looking at him. Avoid looking at him.

She sat down in his armchair before remembering that it was broken, but was pleasantly surprised when it didn't fall.

"Last time I was here, this chair was busted. And so was the TV, and the table was--"

"Never happened." He grabbed his T-Shirt off his bed and pulled it on.

She felt safe looking at him again, and did so, in length. Tight jeans, tight T-Shirt, narrowed eyes.

"But, it did. How else would I know about your scars? And, how would I know what the skanky ho said to you?" Willow's hand flew to her mouth when she realized what she'd just said. "Oh, um, oops. I meant Faith. Um, she and I never really got along, which I already mentioned."

He looked amused at her slip-up. A small smile curled his lips, and he'd lost the angry look. "So how did the chair get broken?"

"Um, okay, here's the thing." She stood up and paced a bit, ready to tell her story. She'd be fine as long as she didn't look at him. "I passed out as you were carrying me to the hospital. I woke up, sitting on Giles' couch, holding a book, and being scared to death by you. You snuck up behind me and whispered, 'boo' in my ear. Normally, I'd laugh and have a jolly time at my expense, but after having just seen Giles dead, I--"

"Freaked," he guessed.

"Freaked," she confirmed. "Basically? I accused you of killing him. My thoughts were a little scrambled. You were--"

"Pissed off," he hazarded.

"I was gonna go with, 'not so happy', but pissed off works too. And stop finishing my sentences please, it's--"

"Annoying," he said with a grin.

"Very," she agreed, glaring at him. "So then, after I realized what was happening, or what I thought was happening, I explained it to you. Apologized and stuff. Once I figured out that I was back in time, I jumped to a huge conclusion, but it felt right. That I was there to fix things. But, you, being of the skeptical nature, didn't believe me, so I had to give you proof."

"Proof?" he asked. "What kind of proof?"

"Just some stuff I know about you now that I couldn't, or shouldn't have known about then."

"Such as?"

She sighed, trying to remember exactly what she'd told him. "Such as Dru being your sire instead of Angelus." Oh, and that other thing too. A blush crept up her cheeks, and she looked everywhere but at him. "And how you got that scar on your eyebrow and what happened afterwards," she finished in a rush.

A confused expression passed over his face. "Afterwards? Nothing happened afterwards. I killed the Slayer, and-- Oh. *That* afterwards." He grinned at her, causing her blush to deepen. "And just how did you know about that, love?"

"Buffy told me." She frowned at him. "She wasn't at all happy about that, you know. I think you shared a little too much with her that night. Which brings me around to why the chair was broken."

"Well? Spill it." He hopped up on his bed and lit a cigarette.

"I was being interfere-y. I tried to warn you about something, and you weren't taking me seriously, and I had to tell you something that you didn't like. You got angry. So, weather's been pretty nice lately, huh?"

Laughter rang throughout the crypt and she shivered. God, his voice was sexy. She was responding to it--to him--more than she liked. Remembering that he could hear her heartbeat, she forced herself to think about something other than Spike. Naked Spike. Bad. Uh, demons. Ugly, mean, scaly demons. Frogs. Spiders. Okay, that did it. All better now.

"You can tell me, you know. I won't get mad. Not like... uh, *I* did. Past me." He was watching her closely through narrowed eyes as a swirl of smoke floated lazily around him.

She had already decided to tell him the truth if he asked about this part. It was just their sleeping together that she refused to tell him. "I told you to stick to the facts when you told Buffy how you killed those two slayers."

Spike sighed, but didn't look away. "She told you about that too? The alley?"

Willow nodded unhappily.

"No harm done." He hopped off the coffin suddenly. "Let's take a walk," he said.

"Um... okay," she agreed. Confusion shot through her, but she decided that now was not the time to analyze his feelings. She stood and went with him out into the bright moonlit cemetery. They walked quietly among the headstones for a few minutes, with Willow weaving herself in and out of a row of markers, waiting for him to talk. When he didn't, she stopped and faced him.

"So you're not mad?" she asked curiously.

"Mad? No. Just wondering if you ever cast that spell last night."

"Um, yeah. I did. It wasn't anything to do with you, you know. I wouldn't purposely do a spell on someone else without their permission." She'd certainly learned her lesson with the de-lusting spell she'd been attempting to do on her and Xander when Spike decided to show up and ruin things. She thought it was karmic justice on her for almost having interfered with the natural order of things.

"What about--"

"Purposely," she stressed. "Anyway, the spell I did last night was just to get my emotions under control. No more bawling like a baby."

He tossed her a look. "So... what, no more pain? Is that it? They're dead, and you get to not feel?"

"Pretty much, yeah." She nodded. "I can't stand to--"

"Hey," a voice said from behind them. "Gonna share?"

Willow spun around, automatically reaching for the stake she kept in her bag... which was still in the crypt. She inched closer to Spike, knowing he always carried a stake in his duster... which he didn't have on. Uh-oh.

Spike pushed Willow firmly behind him and stepped forward. "No, I'm not," he told the vampire. The vamp just stood there, licking his lips, staring at Willow. She backed up a few steps, wanting to be as far away from the greasy vamp as possible.

"Come on, man. Just a taste." Greasy jumped forward, trying to grab her, but Spike's fist in his face stopped him. Greasy's head snapped back, and he grabbed his bleeding nose. "Dude, you broke my nose," he yelled.

Spike's voice was steely. "I don't share." He seized the vamp's head and twisted, breaking his neck, and dropping him to the ground in a heap.

Willow heard the sickening crunch of the vampire's spine as it broke, and fought back the bile threatening to rise in her throat. She searched around for a broken branch or something made of wood. A vase of dried out Forsythia flowers decorated a gravestone a few feet away and she snatched one. She dropped to her knees beside the vamp and staked him, putting him out of his soon to be misery. The vamp and the Forsythia turned to dust under her hands, but she remained there a few seconds. She couldn't look at Spike right now, she was sickened by what he'd just done. After what had happened to him, after being forced to sit in a wheelchair for months, how on earth could he do the same thing to someone else?

She felt his hands on her arms and she jerked away from him, climbing to her feet. He dropped his hands to his sides, and nodded curtly. "Right."

He was angry? What did he have to be angry about? Should she be thanking him? Well, sure he'd saved her life, but he'd also enjoyed it. And intended to leave the vampire there with it's neck broken. Unable to move, the guy would've greeted the day and burst into flames after a night filled with pain, and helplessness.

"Wow," she said sarcastically, "you in the past weren't kidding when you said you enjoyed violence."

"Wasn't going to leave him like that, Willow. I had to disable him while I went back to get a stake. Or would you rather I let him have you while I went back?"

She studied him to see if he was telling the truth or not. He seemed sincere, but he was a demon, which she kept forgetting. Remember, she told herself, he'd just as soon kill you as sleep with you. At least the past him would, this one didn't want to do either.

"Sorry."

He shrugged, and grabbed her arm, heading back toward his crypt. "Don't be. I'm a demon, what else should you have thought?"

"That you're a nice--" she caught his sideways look, and amended her choice of words, "uh, still evil demon who chooses to use his powers for good?"

He snorted in amusement. "Is that what I'm doing?"

"Yup." She pulled her arm from his hand, stood with her hands on her hips, superhero style, and boomed out in a deep voice. "When evil's afoot, it's... Vanilla Chip to the rescue."

He laughed at her display and ruffled her hair. "And you're my trusty sidekick... Witchy Woman?"

She curled her lip at the name in mock disgust. "I want a name with oomph. Pizzazz. Something like... "

"How about Red Robin?" He lifted a lock of her hair.

"Eh."

He rolled his eyes and messed up her hair, before darting out of the way of her slapping hand.

They were in front of his crypt now, and she followed him inside. "You know," she told him, "it's only fair that I get to retaliate in kind."

He patted his hair like a preening school girl. "Don't think so, Red."

"Oh, come on," she pleaded, "it looks tons sexier when it's all messed up and--" Her eyes flew to his, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't heard her, but of course he had.

His gaze was intense, practically burning through her, and all she could do was stand there and let it. "And... " he moved closer, searching her face, her eyes, for an answer. "How would you know that, love?"

Her knees went weak when she heard the huskiness of his voice. His voice, which had never affected her before her time travel experience, seemed to constantly make her knees weak now, and send shivers down her spine. She licked her suddenly dry lips and forced air into her lungs. "I told you, you were drunk. I helped you--"

"To bed. Yeah, I remember what you *said*." He almost sounded angry. At her? Why? Had he guessed that he'd slept with her and hated her for it now?

"It's the truth," she defended, trying not to let the hurt show. And it was the truth. She had helped him to bed... sorta. And he had been drunk. She'd just left out the part where they had sex.

"If you say so, pet."

His voice told her he didn't believe her, but he didn't pursue it, for which she was extremely grateful.

"I do."

"Good." He picked up his duster and swung it on.

"Good," she repeated weakly. "Great."

"Come on, I'll take you home." Once again, they walked quietly along. When they were almost in front of her house, he broke the silence. "That spell you did--"

"Isn't a big deal, I already told you that." She hugged her arms around herself. "I was just tired of the pain and the emptiness. It doesn't stop, it just keeps coming, and I don't want to be like that anymore. I can't find the demon and kill it if I'm an emotional wreck."

"You're not going after it anyway. You leave the bastard to me," Spike warned her, his tone brooking no argument.

Deciding against arguing with him now, Willow simply shrugged in agreement. "It wouldn't be so bad if it were just one of them, but it's not. They're all dead. Everyone I ever cared about, except you."

"What about Tara? She's alive... as much as she's ever been anyway." He nudged her lightly, pushing her a few feet away.

Willow didn't take the bait. "Why do you hate her so much, Spike?" It was something she'd always wondered about, but never had the courage to ask, knowing she might not like the answer.

Spike looked straight ahead, squinting into the darkness as he considered her question. He finally sighed heavily, and shrugged. "Not really sure, pet. Something about her just... puts me off. So... how's Peaches? Did he give you hell after I left?"

Allowing the change of subject, Willow laughed at the thought of Angel getting angry with her. Frustrated, yes. Angry? Not that he'd ever show. "Nope. But I gave him hell."

He raised a skeptical brow to her. "You, Willow? I can't see you giving anybody hell."

"Well, I didn't actually give him hell... but I wanted to. Does that count? 'Cause, he deserved it. They all did, for ignoring you like that. It was very rude."

He chuckled, and elbowed her lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "On my behalf even? Wow, I'm touched. Really." Then his voice turned serious. "I don't care what they think, Willow. Never much cared what others thought period, but Angel's opinion counts less than the drunk guy at the end of the bar at Willy's."

"That much?" she teased.

"Yeah, that much. I never liked Angel. Angelus either for that matter. They're both wankers. We tolerated each other for Dru's sake, and he taught me what I needed to know to survive, but that's about it. Believe me, he's no angel."

"You're no gem yourself, Spike," Angel said from behind them. Willow and Spike spun around in the middle of the street, facing the dark haired vampire. Angel's brown eyes found Willow's.

Willow shrunk back a little at the anger she saw there. Apparently she'd been wrong, Angel would show her his anger. For the second time that night, Spike pushed her behind him in an attempt to protect her, and as much as she wanted to go, 'aww' she didn't want to watch him and Angel play the testosterone game. Especially since Angel seemed to think Spike's gesture was hostile.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Could be Angelus," he hissed back.

Willow rolled her eyes and sighed in impatience. "That's not Angelus. That's plain old Angel." She saw Angel's eyes flicker to hers briefly, and called over, "Sorry," as she stepped out from behind Spike. She moved between the two vampires, looking from one angry visage to the other, unsure how to break their standoff.

Angel sighed in exasperation, tossed Spike a glare, strode over to where she stood and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out of earshot of Spike. Guess that took care of the standoff.

"Willow," he said, then did the weirdest thing. He chuckled. Actually chuckled. She stared at him, suddenly nervous. Uh-oh. Angel didn't chuckle. Angelus did.

She worked her arm free, and sidled away from him. "Um. Yeah?"

He looked perplexed, but shook it off. "You, uh... you do remember Spike's evil, right? A cold-blooded killer?"

She nodded. "Yeah, the killer part is true, he kills demons and vampires nightly. But the evil part? Um, no. Not anymore. I mean, yeah, if he could kill humans, he probably would. But he can't."

"All that's stopping him is a piece of... plastic or metal or whatever. Buffy trusted him? Giles trusted him?"

Willow's temper flared at the vampire in front of her. "You weren't here. You have no idea what's been going on, or anything about anything. Yes, Buffy trusted him, and Giles, and Dawn and Mrs. Summers, and--" she threw her arm out, gesturing to Spike, who was standing in the middle of the street watching them closely, but keeping his distance. "He's been a friend for a while. Not the killing kind, but the being nice kind. So, you know what? Don't come here after two years and tell me anything. No, he doesn't have a soul, but he's also never tortured my friends." She added this last part spitefully, and regretted it instantly, but she didn't apologize.

Angel stared down at her, guilt warring with his anger. Guilt won out. "You're right. I don't know what's been happening here. But I do know Spike. He'll always be a killer, always enjoy it, and always look out only for himself. Himself and Drusilla." He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to look out for you. With Buffy and Giles gone... " He looked away for a second. "There's no one to look after you."

"I can look after myself, Angel. I'm not a child." Her voice was gentle, trying to take away the harshness of her previous words.

"We're going back to L.A. tomorrow night. I want you to come with us." He threw a look at Spike, who flipped him off. Angel turned his back on Spike and cleared his throat. "Cordelia said you can stay with her. I've got a huge hotel with lots of rooms to choose from, if you don't want to stay with Cordy."

Willow gave him a genuine smile, thinking about it for all of two seconds. "I can't. My life is here, I have Tara and my parents, school. And Spike." She also hadn't given up hope on Past Spike. Maybe the changes just hadn't taken effect yet... for some unknown reason. Spike grinned at her and she realized that he could hear their conversation. "I'm fine. Really. Thank Cordelia for me though?"

"Sure." He lowered his voice slightly. "Willow, this demon that killed them... are you positive it wasn't Spike?"

She nodded emphatically. "Yes, I'm sure. Spike couldn't have done this." She knew he hadn't done it, she just hoped she was right about him not wanting to do it. She knew he wouldn't have hurt Buffy, but she wasn't sure about the rest of them. Herself included.

She looked at Spike. He was watching her intently. Probably warning her not to mention his feelings for Buffy. She brought her attention back to Angel and found him studying her.

"What?"

He didn't answer, just looked from her to Spike. She fidgeted slightly under his perusal, but managed not to blurt out every secret she'd ever been told. "What aren't you telling me?" he finally asked.

"Nothing. I'm not telling you anything... I mean, I'm not *not* telling you anything. Ugh. You know what I mean." He grabbed her elbow and steered her to the sidewalk as a car cruised past.

He chuckled. Again. Her eyes widened, and she moved away from him again. Spike joined them, shooting Angel a glare. Willow moved closer to Spike, not quite sure anymore if Angel truly was Angel. She'd never heard him laugh. And tonight, she'd heard it twice. What was going on here?

He sighed heavily, glaring at Spike. His brooding look returned and she felt a little safer. She put her hand on his arm gently. "Are you all right? You, um, you seem a little--"

"Angelus-like?" Spike interrupted. "Where's the Brood Boy we all know and hate?" Willow elbowed Spike, hard. "Oomph! Hey. That hurt, Witch."

Willow snorted rudely. "Duh. It was supposed to." Angel was watching them again. "See?" she pointed to Spike. "He's not going to kill me. He's all safe and stuff."

Angel finally seemed to accept it. "If you need anything... give me a call. And you," he pinned Spike with a glare.

Boy there was a lot of glaring going around tonight, she thought.

"She gets hurt? You get dead." Angel turned, and strode away, his black coat billowing out behind him.

Spike snorted in disgust. "Damn poofter. Always gotta be so dramatic." He grabbed her arm and pulled her along.

Willow glanced over her shoulder as Spike's duster billowed out behind him.



(September 2001)

Spike stalked through the cemetery, hunting for the shapeshifter, and staking any vampires he came across. At first, he'd hesitated at taking on the slayer's job, but then he'd realized that it was necessary. The demons all knew she was gone, and the town was essentially slayer-less for the time being. That didn't bode well for the town, and since Spike was *in* the town, he took up the slack left behind by Buffy's death.

Spike was still considered a traitor in the demon world, and no one was talking to him, so information was coming a little too slowly for his liking.

A sound to his left had him walking in that direction, stake in hand, ready to strike.

"So, it's true," Angel said in amazement. "I didn't believe it when Willow told me... but, here you are."

Spike dropped his hand and turned away in disinterest. "Oh, it's you."

Angel's hand clamped painfully onto Spike's shoulder. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss me, Spike. I may have a soul, but I'm still a vampire, and considering the last time I saw you, your little friend was torturing me with hot pokers... well, let's just say the demon's looking for a little revenge and you're giving me every excuse to let him take it."

Spike shrugged off Angel's hand. "Yeah? Well, why don't you go flog yourself a few thousand times, beat it into submission? And then you can sod off. I've got a job to do."

"Nah, I've pretty much done that." Angel moved directly in front of Spike, forcing the younger vampire to stop. His dark eyes glittered dangerously as he stared at Spike. "What are you doing, Spike? This isn't you. The big hero type? That's for people who don't need the attention and glory it brings. Also, it's for people who aren't evil blood-sucking creatures without souls. You fit into neither of those categories."

Spike tapped his stake against his thigh. Angel was right, this wasn't a Spike type gig. So why was he doing it? Why did he feel obligated to carry on the work of the woman he loved? To protect the woman who had survived?

Simple. Spike had changed, and Angel didn't know him any longer. Never really had, actually. Twenty years of killing and maiming together didn't make Angel an expert on Spike.

"Believe what you want, Angel, you always do. Always got those big, lofty opinions in that gelled head of yours, and according to you, they're always right. You're always right. Been that way since I've known you, and I don't expect you'll be changing any time soon." He stepped around Angel, knocking him aside as he went. "Buffy was the same way. You two were well suited." He'd meant to keep the jealousy and bitterness out of his voice, but hadn't even come close to succeeding.

Angel swung him around and punched him in the jaw. "Buffy is off limits to you," he said furiously.

"Yeah, what else is new?" Spike mumbled, rubbing his jaw.

"You don't get to talk about her--" Spike's fist to his gut cut him off.

"You've got no claim on her anymore, so just go back to hell where you belong, you bloody bastard." Spike shoved past him again and stalked out of the cemetery, a little surprised that Angel let him go.

After patrolling two more cemeteries, Spike decided to head home. On his way, he finally saw it. Saw himself actually. It was walking across the street ahead of him, moving through the darkened streets with no purpose, no destination. When it headed into the sewers, Spike followed it.



(February 2000)

Spike was in a foul mood. After his generous rescue of Tara, he'd gotten no recognition from Willow. No kiss, no hug. No anything whatsoever. Just a simple thank you. So, he'd decided to step up his seduction of her. But so far, things hadn't gone as planned.

Willow spent less and less time at the watchers apartment these days, and more and more time at the witch's dorm. The two witches were together nearly every waking moment, and it was impossible for Spike to get Willow alone. Let alone seduce her.

But tonight, tonight he was going to make a move. A bold step. Tonight, he was going to talk to her. Well, more than talk if things went the way he planned. He'd had a few bags of blood, a few beers, and was headed to the Bronze. She wouldn't be there, but according to Willow's notes, he was going to meet Anya in the alley behind the club, and she would take him to a party that Willow was at.

He waited out in the alley, scaring the few people that went by. Generally enjoying himself.

He'd been there for an hour when he heard his sixth victim coming down the alley. This had better be Anya, because he was getting tired of waiting. He prepared to scare whoever it was, hoping that, if it wasn't Anya, it was an old guy. Maybe he'd have a heart attack, and Spike could drain him without the chip going off. Fear was a wonderful thing.

Spike waited until the person rounded the corner, then leapt out, vampire face on, and growled.

The girl jumped back with a scream.

It was Anya. Spike tossed her an annoyed glance for not being an old man with a heart condition. "Oh, it's you," he said.

"Spike," she said petulantly, "What are you doing? You made me yell really high."

"Hey. Yeah, I did. I scared you." He grinned cockily, and walked up to her, getting right up in her face. "Gimme money."

"I'm not paying you for scaring me," she told him, then had the audacity to push him away. Stupid bint.

"You're not paying me. I'm robbing you."

"Oh, well now that's just ludicrous. You can't hurt me because you've got that chip in your brain. Also, I like my money the way it is... when it's mine." She started to walk by him.

He couldn't let that happen. He growled and spun her around.

"Oh, now come on," she scoffed. "You're not even bumpy anymore."

What? He felt his forehead with his fingers, and sure enough, she was right. "Oh. I was just a minute ago. Hang on." He stood back a ways. "Get me mad again."

Anya sighed. "Does this really work? Scaring people into giving you their money?"

"Yeah, it works. Keeps me in blood and beers." He grinned. "Plus, you know, funny. Watching the little humans quail."

"I'm beginning to understand why you're so friendless."

That one hit a little too close to home. "Look who's talking!" He raked his eyes over her scornfully. "I don't see droopy boy on your arm. Did he have better things to do?"

Anya crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow at him, not at all amused.



(February 2000)

Inside the Bronze, Spike and Anya sat on a couch, drinking beer, and basically looking pretty damn pathetic. Anya had just finished telling him about her fight with Xander, and he was trying not to think about Willow, trying not to yell at Anya to hurry up and get around to mentioning the party. He knew he was obsessing over Willow, it was something he did often. Maybe too often. But, he couldn't seem to help it. When he wanted something, he didn't often stop until he was in possession of it. Or her. And he wanted Willow.

"Boy, I miss those powers," Anya said.

He stretched his arm along the back of the couch, relaxing. "Yeah, tell me about it," he said. After their conversation in the alley, they'd headed inside for a few beers and woe swapping. He'd told her some things about Dru, and nothing about Willow. Anya was, after all, friends with the slayer and her gang, she'd probably run straight to them and tattle.

"A year and a half ago," she was saying, "I could have eviscerated him with my thoughts. Now I can barely hurt his feelings." She sighed. "Things used to be so much simpler."

Spike took a sip of his beer. "You know... you take the killing for granted," he said wistfully. Oh, sure, he could still kill demons and vampires, it just wasn't as fun and satisfying though. Humans tasted better.

Anya nodded nostalgically.

"And then it's gone, and you're like, 'I wish I'd appreciated it more.' Stopped and smelled the corpses, you know?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Now everything's complicated."

"It's a terrible thing, love is. I've been there myself." He paused, thinking about Dru. The love of his life. Non life. Whatever. And now this thing with Willow. He had no luck when it came to women. "It ended badly," he confided.

"Of course it did. It always does. Seen a thousand relationships. First there's the love, and sex, and then there's
nothing left but the vengeance. That's how it works."

Spike smiled, and leaned in close to her as an idea formed. "You and I... should just go do the vengeance. Both of us! You eviscerate Xander, and I'll stake Dru. Like a project." Yeah, kill the bitch. She was the reason he was here. The reason he was lusting after some little college girl. With really awful clothes.

Anya looked tempted for all of a second. "I don't know. I just can't." She sighed again.

Spike had known she wouldn't do it. Not that he would have either. He took his arm down.

"You can go do Dru though," she said encouragingly.

Spike nodded. "Yeah. I will." He sat back. "Maybe later."



(February 2000)

Spike walked into the party trying not to let his excitement show. He couldn't see Willow yet, but then again, it wasn't for sure that she was even there yet. Anya had finally gotten around to mentioning the party that Xander had invited her to about an hour after their conversation started. He'd practically jumped up in his eagerness.

As soon as they went through the door, Spike spotted a familiar looking guy leaving. "Hey, I know these guys from somewhere."

"Initiative soldiers, they live here. Experiments happen in the lab under the house," she told him.

Spike stared at her. Was she stupid?

"It's where they kept you, put in your chip. Let's have fun!"

"What are you doing? You brought me *here*?" He couldn't believe she'd brought him here. She had to be daft. All those years must be catching up with her. And, great, there was the moron.

"Anya? What are you doing?"

Anya turned toward Xander, who looked extremely unhappy to see them. He pointed at Spike. "You brought *him* here?"

"That's what *I* said! Only I hit the 'here' part."

Xander ignored him. "Anya, this is crazy." She crossed her arms and glared at her boyfriend. Xander didn't seem at all fazed by her show of anger. "We had a little fight. It just means that we have to work our way through some stuff. It doesn't mean that we rebound with the evil undead."

Spike glared at him, offended.

"And what have we been doing with him anyway?" Xander asked.

Spike grinned at the whelp. "Oh, who's the puffedup manly man? All splotchy and possessive." He walked over to Xander, examining him.

"It's not very convincing, is it?" Anya asked.

"Yeah. I see now what you said about him earlier." He looked Xander up and down, not at all impressed. "No follow through."

Xander was not amused. He called out loudly, "Hey! What a surprise! Hostile Seventeen!"

Spike tried to shut him up, but he couldn't do any real damage without setting off the chip, which would probably attract more attention than Xander was.

Xander went on, enjoying himself. "Can I get you a drink, Hostile Seventeen?"

Spike looked around anxiously to see if anyone had heard him, but most of the party goers were too drunk or too involved in their own little groups to pay Spike any attention.

"Xander, stop," Anya told him.

A couple of people walked in front of Spike suddenly, and he jumped back, his pride suffering greatly at his chicken-like behavior. The guys all ignored him though, and he looked around. Hmm. Nobody was even glancing their way.

"Pfft!" His confidence renewed, he decided it was time to find Willow. "Well, may be some fun to be had in the lion's den after all. You two keep scrapping. I'll find the liquor." He walked away, leaving them to their fight.



Spike sat down in a chair by a couple of beer kegs, and took a drink of his own beer. So far there'd been no sign of Willow at all. He knew she was here, he just couldn't figure out where.

A drunk guy across from him kept staring at him and frowning, annoying Spike even more.

"Hey, buddy," the guy finally said. "You look familiar."

"Yeah. I get that a lot," Spike told him.

The guy kept frowning and looking at him, so, to avoid suspicion, Spike just sat there.

Bloody hell.



A few minutes later, the drunk guy gone, Spike resumed his search for Willow. He finally spotted her on the stairs, looking up with a worried frown. He weaved his way through the students, trying to get to her. A crowd had gathered against one wall, and Spike pushed a few of the kids out of his way. His hand brushed the wall and a feeling similar to desire and something else burned through him. What the hell? He held his hand against the wall for a few seconds, before yanking it back.

Son of a bitch.

He looked around him. A few people were moaning in orgasmic delight, their hands on the wall, while the rest of the crowd cheered them on. Didn't these people feel the undercurrent of evil?

Several of the people touching the wall shuddered orgasmically.

Apparently not.

By the time he made it to the stairs Willow was gone. He took them two at a time, and headed down the hall a little ways. He heard her talking to someone and stayed where he was, listening.

"Tara? It's me." She knocked on a door. "Tara?"

Spike heard a door open, and peered around the corner.

"Tara?" she called again, before disappearing inside the room. A minute later, he heard her scream.

She came out of the bathroom, looking scared to death. He grabbed her and held her still, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms. "What happened?" he asked.

She was shaking a bit, but her voice was steady. "Ghost boy. Drowning in a tub. I-- I tried to save him, but, being a ghost already, well, I was way too late."

"You okay?" As a pretense to protecting her, he pulled her closer to his side. She felt so good. All warm and soft and sweet smelling. He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, twining his hand with hers to steer her toward the stairs.

"I'm okay. Just, you know, scared to death." She looked around the hallway. "Tara ran up here a while ago. I was looking for her. She-- have you seen her?"

"No," Spike said curtly. His hand tightened on hers when she mentioned Tara, bringing her attention to the fact that he was holding it. She raised their clasped hands, staring at them. She seemed to be as mesmerized by them as he'd been the night they'd slept together.

After a few seconds, she shook her head slightly, and looked around again. He was pleasantly surprised when she didn't take her hand from his. "She must be downstairs then." She stopped at the balcony, searching through the people below.

Spike stood behind and slightly to the side of her, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and press her back against him. To just hold her. Kiss her again. Taste her. He took a step closer to her, and ran his hand through her hair.

She swung around, pulling her hand out of his and backing up slightly. "What are you doing?"

Spike looked at her in confusion. "What? Why? What'd I do?" Uh-oh.

She smoothed her hair down with her hand and frowned. "You... *touched* my hair."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. When in doubt, lie. "Well, yeah. There was something in it." He tried his best to look innocent and wronged, hoping she wouldn't ask what had been in her hair. Think, man, think.

She shook her hair out as if it were crawling with snakes. "What *thing* was in it? It wasn't a tarantula, was it? 'Cause, I have issues. Also? Been there, done that."

Or spiders, he thought.

He shook his head reassuringly. Think, damn it. "No. No spiders. It was a, uh... " Okay, haunted house... whatever was there, could conceivably have disappeared. "Leaf." He groaned inwardly at his lame excuse, and made a show of looking at the floor, searching for it. "Must have disappeared. I think this place is haunted. Or something."

"A ghost leaf?" She looked at the floor too, but, obviously found no leaves. "Or something," she agreed, before resuming her search for Tara.

Spike glared at the crowd below. Damn the blonde witch. He needed to get Willow away from there. Get her alone. And he couldn't do that if Stutter Girl ran off, worrying her. He needed Willow's complete focus and attention. But, tonight wasn't the night. Again.

In the meantime, he'd have to settle for accidental touching. Maybe graduate to copping a cheap feel later. He stood right next to her at the railing, pressing up against her arm and pretending to look for Tara. She didn't pull away, he noticed. A slow smile crept up his face.

Too soon, the moment was over. "There's Xander. Let's get him and get out of here." She ran down the stairs and toward Xander. Spike followed a little more slowly. By the time he got there, Willow had just finished telling Xander about the ghost boy. A group of kids beside them were playing spin the bottle and being generally loud and annoying.

"A ghost?" Xander was saying.

Spike stood next to her, hoping for another cheap feel. She nodded at Xander, still looking around for Tara.

"What's the deal? Is every frat on this campus haunted? And if so, why do people keep coming to these parties, 'cause it's not the snacks."

Tara decided to show up finally. She touched Willow's arm, as if Willow belonged to her. Spike snarled at the girl, but none of them noticed.

"Tara, how are you?" Willow asked, all concern and caring. Spike wanted to rip her out of the blonde's grasp and carry her to his crypt to make slow, passionate love to her.

"I'm okay, but... I-- I don't like it here. This house... I-- I think we should go."

Spike rolled his eyes. Good God, girl. Spit it out.

Willow nodded in absolute agreement. With Tara, not him, unfortunately.

Xander glanced over at the kids on the floor, as the laughter got louder. The bottle was spinning faster and faster, then suddenly exploded. People started yelling as broken glass flew all over the place.

"We need Buffy," Willow said. She and Xander ran off. Tara shot Spike a nervous glance, then followed them. Spike grinned at the fleeing girl. That's right, little girl, run, 'cause you're gonna be the first one I kill.

He sat down in the chair he'd been in earlier, not exactly relishing another run-in with the Slayer. People were starting to panic, running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

He smiled. "Well, this party's starting to liven up after all." Suddenly, straps shot out of the chair's arms, wrapping around his chest, wrists, legs, and mouth.

"Mmph!"

Spike struggled hard, and managed to pull the restraints off himself. He jumped up, about to go searching for Willow, when he spotted her and the others by the door. He joined them and they all left the house.

Spike, Willow, Anya, and the witch stood outside the house, staring up at it. Xander was trying to help some girl with a really bad haircut. The girl ran off, and Xander joined them again as Spike lit a cigarette.

"We have to go back in there," Willow told them. She was looking all worried and cute. Spike once again moved to stand beside her. Tara was the only one to notice how he always seemed to end up next to Willow, and Spike knew she suspected something. Good. Maybe now she'd just back off and leave Willow to him.

"Why?" Anya was asking, ever the voice of reason.

"Because Buffy and Riley are trapped," Xander explained.

"So?" Willow and Tara looked surprised at the ex-demon's gall. Spike grinned. "She's the Slayer, he's a big soldier boy, what do they need you for?"

The moron was getting mad now, apparently having had enough of his girlfriend's selfishness. "Anya, look around. There's ghosts and shaking, and people are going all Felicity with their hair. We're fresh out of super-people, and somebody's gotta go back in there." He took a deep breath. "Now who's with me?"

He was rather surprised to see Willow hesitate. Tara, he'd expected to chicken out. But not Willow. It had been her idea after all, and she was always the first one to offer help when it was needed.

He'd have to break her of that.

Well, here was his chance. Be the hero, save the Slayer and her boy toy, and hopefully get the girl. "I am," he said.

Everyone turned to look at him, surprise evident on their faces.

"I know I'm not the first choice for heroics." He dropped his cigarette and ground it under his boot. "And Buffy's tried to kill me more than once. And, I don't fancy a single one of you at all," he lied, his eyes flickering to Willow's. "But... I'm in." He saw Stutter Girl watching him and Willow, and smiled slyly.

Willow raised a curious eyebrow at him. He shrugged in response, acting as if it were no big deal. Now wasn't the time to tell her he was doing it for her, and only her.

"Xander, let's get out of here," Anya urged.

"You wanna bail, fine," Xander said, then pointed at the house. "I'm going back in there, and I'm not coming out 'til I bring my friend with me."

Spike headed onto the porch with Xander, then stood watching as he opened the door and peeked inside. Spike may be acting the hero, but he wasn't dumb. He'd let Xander go first. Xander disappeared inside, then suddenly flew backward, landing several yards down the path with a painful groan.

Spike twisted his grin into a frown for Willow's sake. She and Anya looked pretty upset.

Xander was glaring at Spike. "Or... it... could be Watcher time," he moaned.

"We'll-- we'll go to Giles'," Willow said.

Tara shook her head. "No, no, wait, he-- he isn't there. He was going to the Espresso Pump." She smiled at Willow, and Spike had to once again resist the urge to kill her.

It was time to go, otherwise, implant or not, the blonde witch would be dead tonight. "Okay, you let me know how it ends, huh?" he asked, his tone telling them how much he didn't care. "Ta-ta." He strode off into the night with one last look at Willow. Soon, Red, his eyes promised. He didn't miss Tara's widened eyes.