Disclaimer: See part 1, or 6.
PART 10
(????)
Willow woke up on Spike's bed, in his crypt. He wasn't beside her, and she was a bit disappointed. But when she heard his lighter flick, and saw the light it created as he lit a cigarette, she smiled, remembering the night just passed. She yawned and stretched contentedly.
"I dreamed that I went back to my own time. You were, like, way curious and big with the questions, but I didn't tell you... or, him, anything." A sudden feeling of deja vu passed through her.
Spike, who was leaning against the marble pillar, smoking, regarded her with no expression. "And why's that, love?"
Willow laid back and grinned. "Are you kidding? You were freaked enough as it is... can you imagine what future you would do if he found out about... you know?"
Spike pushed away from the pillar and came closer. "Maybe he wouldn't do anything. Maybe he wouldn't mind."
Willow sat up and jumped down from the sarcophagus, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She shivered at the blank look in Spike's eyes and sat down in the armchair. "Yeah, right. Come on, Spike, if he found out I'd dressed you in a pink tutu and made you dance around the graveyard, he'd kill me."
Spike's eyes darted to hers, and she couldn't help the laughter that escaped her. She laughed long and hard, holding her sides and gasping for breath. "God, you should have seen your face."
Spike chuckled. "Funny, Willow. You're a real comedian. How'd you know I wasn't him?"
Aside from my lack of panties, and the lack of desire when you look at me? she thought, but she kept silent on those subjects, opting for something safer.
"For one thing, the chair's not broken. For another, I just left there. I admit, I didn't know at first, but the memories came back. Seems to be happening faster now." Her smile slipped a little. "Um, why am I here? All this traveling is really starting to get confusing. One minute, I'm at home, then here, only in the past, then here again, in our time... it is our time, right? October two thousand one?"
He nodded, looking away from her. "I found it."
"It?" she repeated, not allowing herself to hope. All thoughts of past Spike and their fantastic love making was gone. Her focus was completely on the Spike of the now.
"Yeah." He stomped out his cigarette, looking uncomfortable. "Are you, uh... do you have any... are you hurt?" he finally mumbled.
"No," she said curtly, wanting to know what had happened with the demon. She sat forward intently. "Did you kill it? Is it dead? Did it suffer?" His eyes shot to hers, no doubt surprised at the coldness in her voice. She didn't care what he thought, she just wanted to know. "Well?" she asked impatiently.
"No, it's not dead, I couldn't--"
She jumped to her feet, anger and frustration showing in her every movement. "Why the hell not?" she ground out. Even she was surprised by the amount of anger she heard in her voice.
He stalked over to her and tapped her chest. She flinched a little as residual pain shot through her. "Still want to know why you're here, Willow? Huh? Think back," he told her angrily. "You said goodbye to Tara, all nice and sweet, a little kiss and a wave. Come on, think, Willow." He was practically yelling now. "You shut the door, took two steps and fell--"
"How do you know this?" she whispered, suddenly not at all sure that this was *her* Spike. Or any Spike at all.
"I followed it into the sewers, and before you ask, yes, I'm sure it was the right demon. It looked just like me, except the clothes." He sat down in the chair she had vacated, his anger fading. "It must have sensed me or something, because it looked right at me, and shape shifted into Dru."
Her expression softened at the pain on his face. "I'm sorry."
He nodded dismissively. "She came toward me, and all I could do was back away from her. But then, she suddenly stopped, and there's Buffy, all smiles and sunshine." His jaw clenched tight, and he turned his head away.
He didn't say anymore, but she had to know. She needed to know everything about this demon. So she could kill it. Obviously it had read his mind and took the form of the people he loved, using that against him.
"What did you do?"
He looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Huh? Oh. Nothing. Not a bloody thing. Stood there watching her like a bloody fool. I couldn't make a move against it, couldn't make myself... kill... Buffy. Or Dru."
Willow nodded. She probably wouldn't have been able to lift a finger either. Not if it had the face of Oz, or Tara. Or even Spike. Especially after what had just happened between them... well, between her and past Spike. Something she didn't need to be thinking about right now. There would be plenty of time for that later.
He stood up abruptly, pacing restlessly around the confined mausoleum like a caged tiger. "Then it changed into you, and I staked its ass."
Willow's heart stopped for a second, she was sure of it. Her first assessment had been wrong. So wrong. The demon hadn't taken on the forms of people he loved. Just people in his mind. That was painfully obvious. Extremely painful. She was having trouble breathing. She tried to sit down, but her legs gave out before she made it to the chair, and she ended up sinking to the stone floor.
Pain lanced through her heart. Not like before, no, this was a different kind of pain. A pain she knew well. First from Xander. Then Oz. She had expected the next time to be from Tara, but never from Spike.
He actually looked proud of himself. Proud that he didn't care about her at all. He was still talking, oblivious to her pain and inner turmoil.
"Surprised the hell out of it too," he said with a grin. "Then she waved her hand in the air and suddenly I'm seeing you and Tara at your house. The stake in the demon's chest is what you felt," he told her helpfully. "She grabbed the stake and twisted it, and you passed out. I went and got you, brought you here. Figured it knew where you lived, and with you being knocked out and all, you weren't safe there."
"Why should you care?" she whispered.
"What?" He stopped pacing and faced her, confusion on his face.
"Nothing." She hadn't meant to say that out loud. He'd tried to warn her. Told her he hated her more than all of them. She got it now. She understood.
She stood up, smoothing her skirt down. "Thank you," she said politely. "I'm going home now."
He grabbed her arm as she strode by him, turning her to face him. "Don't think so, Willow. I didn't save you just to have you get yourself killed. You're staying here."
"Why?" She was extremely happy she had done the spell that kept control of all those bad emotions, otherwise, she would probably be a sobbing mess right now.
He frowned at her, shoving his hands in his back pockets. "I just told you why."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot," she said angrily. "You know what? From now on, just forget it. Don't go out of your way to help me anymore. I don't want your help, I don't need your help, and I don't need you doing me any favors." She stormed past him and yanked open the crypt door.
She had only gone a few steps before he was in front of her, blocking her way. She stepped around him. He grabbed her arm, pushing her back against a tree trunk. "What's your problem?"
Tired of being manhandled by Spike, Willow grabbed him by his T-Shirt and spun him around, pushing him against the tree. Her strength was somewhat lacking in the super department, so she knew he'd allowed her to move him.
"I've got enough cuts and bruises without you constantly grabbing me, so keep your hands off of me."
Spike's eyes narrowed at her, and she was sure she saw guilt swimming around in there. "Bloody hell, I knew it! What did I do to you? In the past," he elaborated when she remained silent. "What did I do to you in the past?"
Panic swept through her. Did he know? Had he figured it out? Oh, God. Denial was swift. "Nothing, Spike. You didn't do anything. I didn't do anything. There was a whole lot of not anything going on, okay?"
"Don't lie to me." He reached out to grab her, but pulled back before making contact. "You've been all secretive about what happened when you went back. I want to know why. Now." He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, anger radiating off of him in waves, and the ever present jaw clenching.
She'd had enough. Where did he get off demanding answers from her? He had no authority over her. He didn't even like her. Hated her in fact, and the only reason he had saved her life earlier was because he felt responsible. Well, she was letting him off the hook. She got right in his face. "Go to hell, Spike. What happened is between me and you. The other you. And it's none of your business."
She gasped when his hand suddenly shoved her hair aside. She thought he was going to bite her, but no sharp pain ripped through her. He was examining her neck with a thunderous frown. She stepped away from him, knocking his hand away.
"I told you not to touch me," she snapped.
"Who's mark is that?" he bit out.
She threw her arms out in exasperation. "What is it with you, Spike? This one is from Harmony," she told him, pointing to the mark, then pointed to the other side of her neck. "And this one is from the demon." She kicked at a headstone sticking up a few inches out of the ground. "I'm getting tired of repeating myself to you."
"Not those," he said impatiently. "The mark over Harmony's. That's a vampire bite, and it wasn't there before."
Her eyes went wide and she slapped her hand against her neck, swallowing nervously. She backed away from him. "I'm leaving."
"No, you're not. Get back in the crypt." His tone brooked no argument.
"Bite me." She walked away from him.
"Don't tempt me." He grabbed her hand, twining his fingers tightly around hers, and dragged her back the other way. "Come on."
She dug her heels into the ground. "No."
"Yes," he retorted.
"No. Damn it, let go." She was losing her temper, and running out of excuses. "It's your bite mark," she said, nearly crowing in triumph when he let go of her in surprise. "Ha!" She danced out of his way, and took off running.
Spike ran after her, tackling her to the ground. He straddled her hips, holding her wrists to keep her from hitting him. "Now, you want to tell me what the hell your problem is?" he ground out.
Ignoring the good feelings pulsing through her from the position they were in, she yelled, "You." Trying to scoot out from under him, she yelped when she felt his legs clamp tighter against her.
He leaned down into her face. "Keep it up, Willow, I'm enjoying it."
A shiver of desire ran through her at the familiar huskiness of his voice, and the feel of him pressing so intimately into her. She immediately stopped struggling, not wanting him to know how he affected her. "You're a pig, Spike."
His chuckle was low, deep. "So I've been told. Now spill."
She looked up at the moon, the tree branches overhead swaying in the light summer breeze. A headstone a few feet away. In Loving Memory of John Hutchins, 1932-2000. Sad.
Anywhere but at the gorgeous vampire sitting on top of her, making her feel things she shouldn't be feeling, and trying to make her tell him things she didn't want to tell him.
He cleared his throat loudly. She looked at him innocently. "Yes?"
"I'm not letting you up until you tell me," he laughed.
"Why? Why does it matter so much?" she insisted. "Stuff happened, things were said, actions were taken. Why do you need particulars?"
He sat back on his heels, not giving her an inch to move, but making himself more comfortable. His thumbs started tracing lazy circles on her wrists, and she sucked in a breath. He wasn't paying any attention to her reaction to him, though, for which she was grateful.
"Simple, Willow. It happened with me. I want to know what I did, what I said, and what actions I took. How would you like it if I went back in time and did things with you, but I wouldn't tell you what we did?"
"I would... probably be curious," she admitted.
"W-- Willow?" a surprised voice spoke from behind her, and Willow craned her neck to see Tara standing there, watching the two of them.
"Tara," Willow gasped. She tried to get up, before remembering the heavy vampire sitting on her. "Get off, Spike. Tara," she called desperately, "this isn't what it looks like. Spike. Let me up, damn it."
Spike stood up, pulling Willow with him, but he kept hold of one of her hands. Willow shot him a murderous glare. "Spike," she hissed, "I'm going to take great pleasure in killing you later, but right now... let go!"
He wasn't even looking at her. All his attention was on Tara, who was staring at Willow in shock. "Go back to the crypt," he told Willow.
"It's just Tara."
Tara came closer, a malevolent smirk twisting her lips. "Well looky here, if it isn't the vampire once again protecting the witch. Still think I should get a refund?" she sneered at Spike.
Okay, not just Tara.
Willow looked from one to the other. What was going on here? When she returned her attention to the demon, Tara was gone, and in her place was Oz. Willow took a step back.
Oz followed her. "I missed you." His gentle smile was gone, replaced by mocking laughter. "You know, it is way too easy playing with you humans. And vampires." Now it was Buffy.
Willow looked at Spike, hoping he wasn't freaking as much as she was right then. She was happy to see that he wasn't. He was watching the demon as it circled them, keeping Willow behind him at all times. This time, she let him.
"How sweet," Fake Buffy sneered, then pouted. "I thought you loved *me*, Spike. Little miss plain Jane here doesn't love you. Not like I do."
Willow and Spike both snorted at the very un-Buffy-like behavior. Spike stalked over to her and punched her in the face. "Go back to hell." Buffy's head snapped back with the force, but she was grinning.
"Wanna see something, Spike?" Her eyes slid toward Willow and a sly smile spread across her face. "Wanna see what little miss plain Jane's been hiding from you?"
Spike, about to plant his fist in Buffy's face again, halted. His eyes shot to Willow's suddenly panicked ones. Buffy leaned forward conspiratorially, and whispered, "Come on, Spike. You're dying to know."
Willow closed her eyes and started chanting desperately. She couldn't let the demon show Spike. He would be disgusted. He would hate her even more than he already did. The only spell she could think to use on the spur of the moment was a relocation spell. So she did it. She asked the Goddess for protection and spoke the words. When she opened her eyes again, Buffy was still there, but Spike was gone.
Oh, God, what had she done?
Fake Buffy burst into delighted laughter. "Even better, Witch. Now he can see things first hand."
PART 10
(????)
Willow woke up on Spike's bed, in his crypt. He wasn't beside her, and she was a bit disappointed. But when she heard his lighter flick, and saw the light it created as he lit a cigarette, she smiled, remembering the night just passed. She yawned and stretched contentedly.
"I dreamed that I went back to my own time. You were, like, way curious and big with the questions, but I didn't tell you... or, him, anything." A sudden feeling of deja vu passed through her.
Spike, who was leaning against the marble pillar, smoking, regarded her with no expression. "And why's that, love?"
Willow laid back and grinned. "Are you kidding? You were freaked enough as it is... can you imagine what future you would do if he found out about... you know?"
Spike pushed away from the pillar and came closer. "Maybe he wouldn't do anything. Maybe he wouldn't mind."
Willow sat up and jumped down from the sarcophagus, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She shivered at the blank look in Spike's eyes and sat down in the armchair. "Yeah, right. Come on, Spike, if he found out I'd dressed you in a pink tutu and made you dance around the graveyard, he'd kill me."
Spike's eyes darted to hers, and she couldn't help the laughter that escaped her. She laughed long and hard, holding her sides and gasping for breath. "God, you should have seen your face."
Spike chuckled. "Funny, Willow. You're a real comedian. How'd you know I wasn't him?"
Aside from my lack of panties, and the lack of desire when you look at me? she thought, but she kept silent on those subjects, opting for something safer.
"For one thing, the chair's not broken. For another, I just left there. I admit, I didn't know at first, but the memories came back. Seems to be happening faster now." Her smile slipped a little. "Um, why am I here? All this traveling is really starting to get confusing. One minute, I'm at home, then here, only in the past, then here again, in our time... it is our time, right? October two thousand one?"
He nodded, looking away from her. "I found it."
"It?" she repeated, not allowing herself to hope. All thoughts of past Spike and their fantastic love making was gone. Her focus was completely on the Spike of the now.
"Yeah." He stomped out his cigarette, looking uncomfortable. "Are you, uh... do you have any... are you hurt?" he finally mumbled.
"No," she said curtly, wanting to know what had happened with the demon. She sat forward intently. "Did you kill it? Is it dead? Did it suffer?" His eyes shot to hers, no doubt surprised at the coldness in her voice. She didn't care what he thought, she just wanted to know. "Well?" she asked impatiently.
"No, it's not dead, I couldn't--"
She jumped to her feet, anger and frustration showing in her every movement. "Why the hell not?" she ground out. Even she was surprised by the amount of anger she heard in her voice.
He stalked over to her and tapped her chest. She flinched a little as residual pain shot through her. "Still want to know why you're here, Willow? Huh? Think back," he told her angrily. "You said goodbye to Tara, all nice and sweet, a little kiss and a wave. Come on, think, Willow." He was practically yelling now. "You shut the door, took two steps and fell--"
"How do you know this?" she whispered, suddenly not at all sure that this was *her* Spike. Or any Spike at all.
"I followed it into the sewers, and before you ask, yes, I'm sure it was the right demon. It looked just like me, except the clothes." He sat down in the chair she had vacated, his anger fading. "It must have sensed me or something, because it looked right at me, and shape shifted into Dru."
Her expression softened at the pain on his face. "I'm sorry."
He nodded dismissively. "She came toward me, and all I could do was back away from her. But then, she suddenly stopped, and there's Buffy, all smiles and sunshine." His jaw clenched tight, and he turned his head away.
He didn't say anymore, but she had to know. She needed to know everything about this demon. So she could kill it. Obviously it had read his mind and took the form of the people he loved, using that against him.
"What did you do?"
He looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Huh? Oh. Nothing. Not a bloody thing. Stood there watching her like a bloody fool. I couldn't make a move against it, couldn't make myself... kill... Buffy. Or Dru."
Willow nodded. She probably wouldn't have been able to lift a finger either. Not if it had the face of Oz, or Tara. Or even Spike. Especially after what had just happened between them... well, between her and past Spike. Something she didn't need to be thinking about right now. There would be plenty of time for that later.
He stood up abruptly, pacing restlessly around the confined mausoleum like a caged tiger. "Then it changed into you, and I staked its ass."
Willow's heart stopped for a second, she was sure of it. Her first assessment had been wrong. So wrong. The demon hadn't taken on the forms of people he loved. Just people in his mind. That was painfully obvious. Extremely painful. She was having trouble breathing. She tried to sit down, but her legs gave out before she made it to the chair, and she ended up sinking to the stone floor.
Pain lanced through her heart. Not like before, no, this was a different kind of pain. A pain she knew well. First from Xander. Then Oz. She had expected the next time to be from Tara, but never from Spike.
He actually looked proud of himself. Proud that he didn't care about her at all. He was still talking, oblivious to her pain and inner turmoil.
"Surprised the hell out of it too," he said with a grin. "Then she waved her hand in the air and suddenly I'm seeing you and Tara at your house. The stake in the demon's chest is what you felt," he told her helpfully. "She grabbed the stake and twisted it, and you passed out. I went and got you, brought you here. Figured it knew where you lived, and with you being knocked out and all, you weren't safe there."
"Why should you care?" she whispered.
"What?" He stopped pacing and faced her, confusion on his face.
"Nothing." She hadn't meant to say that out loud. He'd tried to warn her. Told her he hated her more than all of them. She got it now. She understood.
She stood up, smoothing her skirt down. "Thank you," she said politely. "I'm going home now."
He grabbed her arm as she strode by him, turning her to face him. "Don't think so, Willow. I didn't save you just to have you get yourself killed. You're staying here."
"Why?" She was extremely happy she had done the spell that kept control of all those bad emotions, otherwise, she would probably be a sobbing mess right now.
He frowned at her, shoving his hands in his back pockets. "I just told you why."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot," she said angrily. "You know what? From now on, just forget it. Don't go out of your way to help me anymore. I don't want your help, I don't need your help, and I don't need you doing me any favors." She stormed past him and yanked open the crypt door.
She had only gone a few steps before he was in front of her, blocking her way. She stepped around him. He grabbed her arm, pushing her back against a tree trunk. "What's your problem?"
Tired of being manhandled by Spike, Willow grabbed him by his T-Shirt and spun him around, pushing him against the tree. Her strength was somewhat lacking in the super department, so she knew he'd allowed her to move him.
"I've got enough cuts and bruises without you constantly grabbing me, so keep your hands off of me."
Spike's eyes narrowed at her, and she was sure she saw guilt swimming around in there. "Bloody hell, I knew it! What did I do to you? In the past," he elaborated when she remained silent. "What did I do to you in the past?"
Panic swept through her. Did he know? Had he figured it out? Oh, God. Denial was swift. "Nothing, Spike. You didn't do anything. I didn't do anything. There was a whole lot of not anything going on, okay?"
"Don't lie to me." He reached out to grab her, but pulled back before making contact. "You've been all secretive about what happened when you went back. I want to know why. Now." He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, anger radiating off of him in waves, and the ever present jaw clenching.
She'd had enough. Where did he get off demanding answers from her? He had no authority over her. He didn't even like her. Hated her in fact, and the only reason he had saved her life earlier was because he felt responsible. Well, she was letting him off the hook. She got right in his face. "Go to hell, Spike. What happened is between me and you. The other you. And it's none of your business."
She gasped when his hand suddenly shoved her hair aside. She thought he was going to bite her, but no sharp pain ripped through her. He was examining her neck with a thunderous frown. She stepped away from him, knocking his hand away.
"I told you not to touch me," she snapped.
"Who's mark is that?" he bit out.
She threw her arms out in exasperation. "What is it with you, Spike? This one is from Harmony," she told him, pointing to the mark, then pointed to the other side of her neck. "And this one is from the demon." She kicked at a headstone sticking up a few inches out of the ground. "I'm getting tired of repeating myself to you."
"Not those," he said impatiently. "The mark over Harmony's. That's a vampire bite, and it wasn't there before."
Her eyes went wide and she slapped her hand against her neck, swallowing nervously. She backed away from him. "I'm leaving."
"No, you're not. Get back in the crypt." His tone brooked no argument.
"Bite me." She walked away from him.
"Don't tempt me." He grabbed her hand, twining his fingers tightly around hers, and dragged her back the other way. "Come on."
She dug her heels into the ground. "No."
"Yes," he retorted.
"No. Damn it, let go." She was losing her temper, and running out of excuses. "It's your bite mark," she said, nearly crowing in triumph when he let go of her in surprise. "Ha!" She danced out of his way, and took off running.
Spike ran after her, tackling her to the ground. He straddled her hips, holding her wrists to keep her from hitting him. "Now, you want to tell me what the hell your problem is?" he ground out.
Ignoring the good feelings pulsing through her from the position they were in, she yelled, "You." Trying to scoot out from under him, she yelped when she felt his legs clamp tighter against her.
He leaned down into her face. "Keep it up, Willow, I'm enjoying it."
A shiver of desire ran through her at the familiar huskiness of his voice, and the feel of him pressing so intimately into her. She immediately stopped struggling, not wanting him to know how he affected her. "You're a pig, Spike."
His chuckle was low, deep. "So I've been told. Now spill."
She looked up at the moon, the tree branches overhead swaying in the light summer breeze. A headstone a few feet away. In Loving Memory of John Hutchins, 1932-2000. Sad.
Anywhere but at the gorgeous vampire sitting on top of her, making her feel things she shouldn't be feeling, and trying to make her tell him things she didn't want to tell him.
He cleared his throat loudly. She looked at him innocently. "Yes?"
"I'm not letting you up until you tell me," he laughed.
"Why? Why does it matter so much?" she insisted. "Stuff happened, things were said, actions were taken. Why do you need particulars?"
He sat back on his heels, not giving her an inch to move, but making himself more comfortable. His thumbs started tracing lazy circles on her wrists, and she sucked in a breath. He wasn't paying any attention to her reaction to him, though, for which she was grateful.
"Simple, Willow. It happened with me. I want to know what I did, what I said, and what actions I took. How would you like it if I went back in time and did things with you, but I wouldn't tell you what we did?"
"I would... probably be curious," she admitted.
"W-- Willow?" a surprised voice spoke from behind her, and Willow craned her neck to see Tara standing there, watching the two of them.
"Tara," Willow gasped. She tried to get up, before remembering the heavy vampire sitting on her. "Get off, Spike. Tara," she called desperately, "this isn't what it looks like. Spike. Let me up, damn it."
Spike stood up, pulling Willow with him, but he kept hold of one of her hands. Willow shot him a murderous glare. "Spike," she hissed, "I'm going to take great pleasure in killing you later, but right now... let go!"
He wasn't even looking at her. All his attention was on Tara, who was staring at Willow in shock. "Go back to the crypt," he told Willow.
"It's just Tara."
Tara came closer, a malevolent smirk twisting her lips. "Well looky here, if it isn't the vampire once again protecting the witch. Still think I should get a refund?" she sneered at Spike.
Okay, not just Tara.
Willow looked from one to the other. What was going on here? When she returned her attention to the demon, Tara was gone, and in her place was Oz. Willow took a step back.
Oz followed her. "I missed you." His gentle smile was gone, replaced by mocking laughter. "You know, it is way too easy playing with you humans. And vampires." Now it was Buffy.
Willow looked at Spike, hoping he wasn't freaking as much as she was right then. She was happy to see that he wasn't. He was watching the demon as it circled them, keeping Willow behind him at all times. This time, she let him.
"How sweet," Fake Buffy sneered, then pouted. "I thought you loved *me*, Spike. Little miss plain Jane here doesn't love you. Not like I do."
Willow and Spike both snorted at the very un-Buffy-like behavior. Spike stalked over to her and punched her in the face. "Go back to hell." Buffy's head snapped back with the force, but she was grinning.
"Wanna see something, Spike?" Her eyes slid toward Willow and a sly smile spread across her face. "Wanna see what little miss plain Jane's been hiding from you?"
Spike, about to plant his fist in Buffy's face again, halted. His eyes shot to Willow's suddenly panicked ones. Buffy leaned forward conspiratorially, and whispered, "Come on, Spike. You're dying to know."
Willow closed her eyes and started chanting desperately. She couldn't let the demon show Spike. He would be disgusted. He would hate her even more than he already did. The only spell she could think to use on the spur of the moment was a relocation spell. So she did it. She asked the Goddess for protection and spoke the words. When she opened her eyes again, Buffy was still there, but Spike was gone.
Oh, God, what had she done?
Fake Buffy burst into delighted laughter. "Even better, Witch. Now he can see things first hand."
