Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Fox, and Twentieth Century and whoever else has rights to it. I don't, more's the pity, but they do. No money is being made by me on this.

Author's Note: This starts after season 5... and is rather AU. It has spoilers for basically all of season 4 and some of 5. I'm a Spike/Willow 'shipper, and this story is W/S. Also, this is a work in progress. I've been working on it for nearly two years now, and it's still not done, but I'm getting there. It's very long, and involed. Please hang in there, and don't give up on me if I don't update regularly. Reviews would be most welcome.

Another Note: If you read this when I first posted it, you'll need to read it again to understand some of it. I've added a lot to previously posted chapters, and I couldn't begin to tell you which ones have new stuff, and which ones don't. Sorry.

Dedicated: To my beta, Claudia, you rock! You all should thank her for getting more of this story.



PART 11

(March 2000)

One minute Spike was standing in the cemetery with Willow and the demon, the next, he was standing in the cemetery alone. Where was Willow? He turned in a circle, but there was no sign of her.

"Willow?" No answer. Maybe she was in the crypt. But how-- where was the demon?

"Spike," a voice said from behind him. That answered the demon question.

Spike spun around and grabbed Buffy by the throat. "Where is she?"

Buffy's eyes widened momentarily. "Where's who?" she asked in confusion, batting his hand away.

"Where the bloody hell is she?" he yelled, punching her in the nose-- and falling to the ground in excruciating pain. "Oh, hell," he groaned miserably, holding his head. Buffy hauled him unceremoniously to his feet and shoved him against the side of his crypt. His eyes focused on the girl in front of him, and his brows drew together in an agonized expression. "You're human," he whispered, unable to keep his voice from shaking.

She nodded, not seeing the despair on his face. "You're just getting that now, huh? I always knew you were a little slow on the uptake. Now. Who is 'she', and why are you looking for her?"

"Willow," he mumbled, looking around. The spell. Of course it had gone wrong. Now he was... where was he? His gaze fell on Buffy again. Or maybe when was he?

Buffy pinned him against the crypt, fixing him with a deadly look. "What about Willow? You know, you've been getting creepy around her lately, you better not be thinking about doing anything to her."

"Creepy," he repeated, trying to remember if he'd done anything even remotely resembling 'creepy' to Willow. Nothing he could remember... but maybe things had changed because of Willow going back-- um, here. Could be a nice fishing expedition for him. Putting on his best belligerent face, which wasn't too hard to slip into, he smirked at her. "What'd I do this time, Buffy? Look at her wrong?" Oops, probably should've left off calling her Buffy.

Her eyebrows skyrocketed at the use of her name. "I'm talking about the way you've been following her around. Spike."

Following her around? Ah, man, what had Willow done to him? "Um, where's Dawn?" he asked, getting a partial answer as to when he was. Buffy had no idea who he was talking about. So, apparently, he was back sometime before Dawn. And he was chipped, so it was last year. Well that narrows it down, he thought sarcastically.

He needed to get back. But, how?

There was that expression Buffy got when she was without a clue. If he admitted it to himself, he'd seen that look a lot. "Who's Dawn?" she asked with a frown. "And what about Willow? Tell me what's going on. Is Willow in trouble?"

He pushed away from the crypt quickly. What if *he* was in there right now? He almost laughed at the thought. "No. She's not in trouble." Not for about a year and a half anyway. "Dawn is a, um, newly risen vampire. Uh, demon. Shape-shifting demon. Thought you were her. Yeah, she, uh, she went that way. Why don't you go after her, and I'll go see if Willow... Red's alright?"

Buffy was having none of it. She shook her head with a snort. "Or. How about you come with me and we both see if Willow's alright. 'Cause if she's not? Neither will you be. Let's go." She headed off, expecting him to follow.

Needing answers, and not wanting to screw with this time... like Willow apparently had, he followed behind her. She didn't say a word the whole way, but Spike hadn't expected her to. For his part, he was content to just watch her walk in front of him. It would've been nice to talk, but she would find that odd, and he was trying to avoid raising her suspicions.

They got to Giles' apartment in under ten minutes, and Buffy walked right inside. Spike hesitated. The last time he'd been here, he'd found the watcher dead, massacred. And Willow close to dead. Plus, what if his invitation didn't work?

"Spike," Buffy called impatiently. "Get in here." Spike took a deep breath and stepped cautiously over the threshold. No barrier. He exhaled in relief.

When he turned his attention to the occupants of the room, he couldn't help the feeling of rightness and familiarity that shot through him. They were incredibly annoying, and had despised him most of the time, especially because of his feelings for Buffy, but he still liked them. He just wouldn't ever admit it to them.

Four faces turned his way. Three of those faces dismissed him immediately, one didn't. He saw Willow swallow nervously and shrink away from him. Her heart was pounding so hard he half expected it to explode inside her chest. This wasn't normal Willow behavior. Something was wrong. She hadn't reacted like this around him since he got the implant.

Buffy perched on the couch next to Willow. "Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute, Will?"

Willow's glance flickered to Spike briefly before smiling at her friend. "Sure. What's up?"

Buffy leaned over and whispered in Willow's ear. His hearing picked up the conversation, though he showed no outward signs of it.

"It's about Spike. I found him in the cemetery by his crypt. He was looking for you. Any idea why?" Buffy was watching him closely while she waited for Willow's response.

Spike raised an eyebrow in amusement, and smirked slightly.

"No. Why-- why would he be looking for me?" Willow frowned, her eyes finding Spike's. "Um, can we go outside and talk about this? He's making me nervous."

"Yeah. Come on." Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and pulled her along. "Be right back guys. Roommate stuff." They went outside, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Spike waited a whole thirty seconds before following them. "Gonna grab a smoke," he told the others as he left. No one said a word to stop him. There was no way on earth he would ever admit to being slightly disappointed at that. Did they even know he was there? Shaking his head at his own pathetic thoughts, he shut the door quietly behind him.

Willow and Buffy were sitting on the brick wall around the fountain, where he'd found Willow unconscious. After finding Buffy dead, he'd gone to Giles' to find the others and nearly tripped over Willow. He'd been nearly as upset about finding her dead as he had Buffy. But then he'd heard her heartbeat and wasted no time examining the feelings. He'd propped her against the wall and gone inside Giles' apartment. The smell of blood had permeated the whole room, the red and brown liquid he usually craved had been everywhere, over every surface, and he'd actually felt regret.

Stepping closer to the fountain, he sighed, forcing himself to focus on their words.

"--holding my hand." Willow was saying.

"Touched your hair?" Buffy said, sounding stunned. "Touched you hair?" Apparently she wasn't getting past that any time soon.

Willow nodded. "Uh-huh. He said there was something in it. A leaf. A ghost leaf."

Spike cleared his throat, making his presence known. They both fell silent as he approached them. Willow seemed to be trying to melt into the fountain, while Buffy's glare pierced him through like a sword.

"Spike, you could probably clear this whole thing up now. But I bet you won't, 'cause that'd be too easy. Too helpful. Can't have that."

He shrugged carelessly. "Clear what up?" Time to get the lowdown on him and Willow. Only, this was the wrong Willow. But, maybe the other Spike had said something to this Willow.

Buffy spoke up, while Willow stared at her shoes. Green tennis shoes. He smiled slightly. The girl had appalling taste in clothes. "Why are you following Willow around?"

Spike didn't have an answer. He wasn't following her, his other self was. They were talking about something that he hadn't done, but he had... and it was a singularly weird experience. "I am?" he asked. "Okay." Both girls frowned at his answer.

"You are," Willow said softly. "And Tara too. She's seen you outside her dorm room. And after last night... well, you're starting to scare us."

"Last night?" he asked curiously, "What happened last night?"

Her head shot up and she stared at him. "You don't remember?"

Buffy scoffed, chuckling at his pathetically thin answers. "What? You got amnesia now or something? Please," Buffy scoffed.

Spike stared at Buffy, realizing why he hadn't fallen in love with her during that first year of being chipped. He didn't even like her. She was sarcastic and self-involved. It wasn't until he got to know her better, and realized that she wasn't actually like that, that he'd started to fall for her. Unfortunately. It'd be nice if he could keep himself from loving her. But, if he did, the world might not be here anymore.

Too bad, because right now, she was being a snotty, sarcastic brat.

"Yeah," he grinned. "I've got amnesia. Why don't you refresh my memory, Slayer?"

Willow sighed heavily. "Forget it, Buffy. I'm gonna go, Tara's expecting me." She was watching him when she said that, obviously expecting some sort of reaction from him. He raised his eyebrows in question, and she shook her head, leaving.

"If you're done, Slayer, I'm gonna go too. Nice seeing you again." She rolled her eyes and went inside Giles' apartment. Once she was inside, Spike lit a cigarette and sat down. He may not like this Buffy, but his feelings for her were still there. Still raw. It wouldn't be good, for either of them, if he kept running into her, so, he'd just have to avoid her if at all possible.

A few minutes later, he stood up, crushing his cigarette under his boot, and headed to his crypt, unsure where else to go. Who knew how long he was going to be here? If his luck and Willow's magick had anything to say about it... he was going to be here a long time. When he got back to his time, he was going to kill Willow.

As he approached his crypt, he saw the object of his thoughts slip inside. He frowned, wondering why she was there. No better way to find out than to ask her. He went inside, keeping to the shadows just in case the other him was there. He wasn't. Past Spike wasn't. Future Spike was, and he wanted some answers.

He cleared his throat loudly, making her jump and spin around. Her hand flew to her chest, and her eyes scolded him. He rolled his own eyes at her. "Why are you here, Willow?"

She shrugged innocently. "Um, I just... I wanted to know-- why are you following me and Tara? Do you-- do you want a spell? I could probably find one for you. If you want. And Tara is pretty powerful, so we could probably--"

"No," he said sharply. "No spells. Ever again. Remember that when you're standing around in a cemetery in, oh, say a year and a half. And there's a demon threatening you. Don't. Do. A. Spell. Got it?" Driving home the point was useless, he knew, she had never listened before, why should she now? Still, he had to try, on principle.

She bit her lip in irritation. "I've got it, geez. So if you don't want a spell, what do you want?"

"Nothing," he answered truthfully, hiding his amusement at her frustration.

"Then why are you following us?" she practically yelled.

"I'm not." Again, there was that truth thing.

"Oh, no?" she asked angrily. "Then why have you been outside Tara's room almost every night? I've run into you a few times. Remember, Amnesia Boy? And last night, you--"

"I, what?"

"You threatened to kill Tara if she didn't leave town. And then you... " her voice trailed off.

He lit a cigarette, backing off slightly. What he wanted to do was shake the answers out of her, but he doubted that would help. He glanced curiously around his home, noting the broken chair. Everything looked the same except the chair, TV, and TV stand. He sat down carefully in the chair and was assaulted by the scent of Willow. In his haste to get out of the chair, his hand slipped off the arm and landed between the cushion and the arm, hitting something soft. He yanked his hand up and stared at a pair of dark blue panties.

Panties that were ripped, and smelled of Willow. He hopped up quickly, shoving them into his duster pocket before the Willow in front of him turned back around and saw them. Were they hers, or were they his Willow's? He was going on the assumption that they weren't this Willow's, but he had to be sure.

One of the Willows had some big-time explaining to do. Bloody hell, why were her ripped panties in the seat of his chair? Christ. His mood was dipping way down, the more he saw of this time, and all the things that were different.

"Well?" he encouraged, sitting on his bed. He laid back, ignoring her, trying to set her at ease. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he jumped back up. "Bloody hell!" Her scent was on his pillows and blankets too. In his bed. His eyes bored into hers and she shrank back. "What the hell happened last night, Willow? Spit it out now."

She was watching him curiously, no doubt wondering at his odd behavior. "You're not Spike," she whispered excitedly. "Not our Spike."

"Am too," he countered lamely.

"Then why don't you know what happened last night? Why do you look out of place in your own crypt? And why," she finished triumphantly, "are you so antsy about what did or didn't happen?"

"Fine. I'm from another time. What happened last night? I can smell you," he said angrily. He was angry at himself. The only reason her smell would be on his bed was if she'd been there. And the only reason he would have her there is for sex. Plus there was that taunt she'd thrown at him just before the demon showed up. That the bite mark on her neck was from him. He couldn't bite humans without their permission. Without any intention of pain. Which meant she'd either let him feed off of her, or it had happened during sex. Sex with Willow.

"What smell? I don't wear perfume--"

"I know. Not that kind of smell. Your scent. You." He walked closer, his eyes burning into hers. "You slept with him." Well, here was the moment of truth. If she denied it, then it was his Willow that had slept with him. Past him. A vampire could go crazy thinking about this.

"Slept with you?" she laughed. "I didn't sleep with you." She started laughing even harder. "I have a girlfriend, thank you very much."

"Yeah, Tara," he said dismissively. "Okay, so maybe you didn't sleep with him. But, how did you know I wasn't your Spike?"

She shrugged, as if it was obvious. "Dunno. Ever since that thing with Faith stealing Buffy's body, Tara's been teaching me how to be more aware. See things not normally visible, that kind of thing. What time are you from?" She was watching him curiously, as if he was a puzzle needing solved.

"Doesn't matter," he answered. "You still haven't told me exactly what happened last night. And I'm getting tired of asking."

"Must be the future then, and you don't want to mess with the time line." Noticing his increasingly impatient look, she hurriedly added, "Okay, okay. You... our Spike, tried to kiss me."

"Kiss you?" he snapped. "What the hell is going on here? I swear, I'm going to kill you when I get back to my time," he told her.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Don't threaten me."

She was suddenly growing a backbone? "That wasn't a threat," he told her, "it was a promise."

She got right in his face, and Spike was quite impressed. "I don't like you."

"Feeling's mutual," he shot back.

"Yeah? Then why did you try to kiss me?" she smirked.

"That's what I'd like to know." He shoved his finger against her chest. "You. You did this. You came back here, and you screwed with things. Now I'm-- bloody hell!" He kicked the chair, putting a sizeable mark in the wood along the bottom, and stormed out of the crypt.



Spike found his other self at the Bronze, drinking a beer. He watched himself, feeling an odd sense of wrongness as he neared him. Staying at a distance seemed the best bet. So he sat down on a stool in a corner, and watched. He found himself to be rather boring.

And petulant.

Do I really look like that? he thought. Being faced with the unabashed truth, he had to concede that he did indeed look like a pouty child. He clenched his jaw, resolving never to clench his-- bloody hell.

Past Spike left a few minutes later, rudely shoving through the crowd as he passed. He was lucky he didn't set off the implant, Spike thought with a snort. There was a terrible thought. What if Past Spike's implant set off *his* implant? Nah, that was unlikely. Still, best to be careful.

For want of anything better to do, Spike followed him. William, as he decided to think of him, cut through the park, jumped up on a bench and flung his beer bottle at a tree. Spike snorted again at his dramatics. Drama queen.

William suddenly turned and faced him, snarling and charging. Spike, not being drunk, easily stepped out of the way. William fell face first into the grass with a growl. Spike felt that sense of wrongness growing stronger. And he suddenly knew that they couldn't have any sort of contact whatsoever, if they did, something terrible was going to happen.

As soon as he was slightly away from himself, he felt a lessening of the doom and panic. He stood in plain sight, letting William see him. Their eyes locked, and William groaned.

"Great. Now what's the Hellmouth throwing at me? Evil clones?" William bit out.

"Nope, time travelers." When William merely blinked at him blearily, Spike rolled his eyes. "Get up, you drunken fool." He sat down on the bench, staying away from William, while remaining close enough to talk. "And tell me what the hell you're doing with Willow. Did you sleep with her?"

William grinned. "You're from her time." He sat down on the opposite side of the bench, his expression becoming solemn. "Is she... is she all right? She was in pain... and she couldn't breathe--"

Spike nodded curtly. "She's fine... for now. But if you don't leave her alone, she won't be. Don't sleep with her again."

"Did she tell you that? That we slept together?" He sounded rather incredulous.

"No," Spike admitted, wondering if maybe he'd been wrong after all. "But, she's evasive enough to make me suspicious. That, and I smelled her all over your... bed." Spike turned toward his alter ego. "If you haven't shagged her, then how do you explain that?"

William rolled his eyes. "I'm not a bloody animal, you know. I got drunk, and I passed out. She--"

"Helped you to bed," Spike said with a sigh. "That's what she said too." Spike eyed his younger self, wondering if he was telling the truth. He should be able to tell, this was him, after all, but he couldn't. William seemed sincere, still, he decided he'd better warn him off anyway. "Keep your hands off of her."

"Seems to me that it's none of your business. If I want to shag Willow, from this time or your time, I'll damn well do it. Just because you're not man enough to take her." He snorted contemptuously. "I've heard about you, you pansy-assed Angel wannabe. Lusting after the slayer like a bloody ponce."

"And you're not lusting after Willow? Not threatening her girlfriend? I know you, William. I am you. I know how you think. As soon as Willow told you about Buffy, you decided to replace her with someone else. And Willow just happened to be there. I'm not going to let you use her," Spike bit out.

"Sod off," William told him pleasantly.

"You're taking advantage of her, you sot. She just lost all her friends. Only thing she has left is Tara, so just back off." William opened his mouth to say something, but Spike cut him off. "If you care anything about her, then you'll bloody well leave her alone."

"She's got me. Or she will have in time. You're not going to be around forever. I'm changing things. No more of this Buffy crap. I'm killing her at the first opportunity."

Spike held his temper in check, though he wanted nothing more than to punch himself in the face. "You touch her, and the world will get torn to hell. Literally."

Spike could see the reluctant agreement in William's eyes and sighed in relief.

"Fine, whatever," William said. He regarded Spike curiously, obviously searching for something. "She's right... you have no clue." He shook his head almost sadly.

Spike glared at his younger self. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," he said dismissively. "So, what's all this anger over Willow about? Want her for yourself?"

Spike sat back with a laugh. "Not bloody likely. She's only a friend. And she's got the witch."

William's eyes narrowed at the mention of Tara. "Stutter Girl." He shook his head in disgust. "She's not what Willow needs."

"And you are?" Spike shot back.

William shrugged. "Maybe." He leaned forward, watching Spike intensely. "Don't tell me you've never wondered what she hides under those fuzzy clothes she's so fond of? Or maybe you want to hear her scream your name when she--"

"No," Spike snapped, lying through his teeth. "And the fact that you have, only came about because she told you about Buffy. Don't change things too much," he warned his younger self, "you might not like how things turn out."

William grinned arrogantly. "We'll see." And then he was alone.



(March 2000)

Spike stood up, shaking his head. People had a habit of disappearing on him, and it was getting annoying. He shrugged and headed back to his crypt. He had a date with a bottle of whiskey there.

As he walked, he wondered if his future self was right. Sure, he'd first set his sights on Willow because of the impending Buffy fiasco, but it was more than that, wasn't it? He didn't just want Willow to keep himself occupied, or to keep Buffy from worming her skinny blonde self into his heart. That wasn't all there was to his attraction to the redhead.

He enjoyed being with her. She was-- what? Smart. Pretty. Funny... in an odd way. The sex was great. But, those were all generic reasons for being with someone. The same could be said about a lot of women, but he'd chosen Willow. Now he had a burning need to find out why. If it was simply for replacing Buffy, he could have moved on to someone else. Actually, it might have been better if he had.

There was still Harmony. A shudder escaped him at the thought of the blonde bimbo he'd shacked up with. Loneliness had driven him to her. She had a nice... well, to be truthful, she had a body. She was female. And she didn't have much of a brain. When searching for the Gem of Amarrah, it had been essential that he find someone not interested in possessing it. Harmony had seemed perfect. Big on sex, little on brains. Basically, she was good at following orders.

As he neared his crypt, a heartbeat alerted him to someone inside. Shades of the first time he'd slept with Willow came to mind, and he shoved the door open, hoping she was back. Though it had only been a few hours, he missed her. Everyone from this time hit first and asked questions later, it got boring. Conversation was sometimes a nice thing to have. He liked being with people... he wasn't the loner type, and since being chipped, he'd been forced to be alone. Plus Dru leaving him, and all, but mostly, he blamed the Initiative for his situation.

He inhaled, smelling Willow. This wasn't the fading smell from earlier, this was the real thing. He stepped inside, his eyes falling on his bed. She was curled up under the covers, asleep.

Spike grinned and closed the door quietly. He removed his duster, tossing it over the back of his chair, and took off his t-shirt as well. Still watching her, he sat in the chair and toed off his boots. He debated on whether or not to shuck his jeans, but figured, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Naked now, he vacated the chair for greener pastures. His eyes slid over her, noting her bright red hair, pale skin, and her wide lips curled up slightly in a smile. He wondered what she was dreaming about.

His hand slid across her cheek, his thumb rubbing lightly on her forehead. She sighed and moved closer, her smile widening. He leaned forward and kissed her softly, before pulling the blanket down. Sadly, she was fully dressed, but he would quickly be taking care of that. His hand was poised above her shirt when his eyes were caught by her hair. Her short hair. Her now hair.

Flinging himself away from his bed, he grabbed his clothes and shoved them on. His pants were a bit uncomfortable now, but he was sure that would go away as soon as he woke her up and they started arguing. Damn her. Why couldn't she be the other her? Why did it have to be this Willow?

"Bloody hell!" Fully dressed again, he sat down and lit a cigarette. Calming down would be good. Otherwise he was likely to either kill her or shag her... and he wasn't sure which choice sounded better at the moment. Why was she here? She had never come here. Ever. She didn't even talk to him, let alone visit him. Christ, he thought, must be about that incident last night.

They'd been fighting a demon. Six vampires had decided to ally themselves to it, and Spike, having a grand old time, took all of them on alone. He'd gotten separated from the others, and was fighting alone. Or so he'd thought. After dusting five of them, he'd spun around, looking for the last one. Willow was there, the vampire advancing on her. She looked scared to death, her whole body was shaking under her orange shirt and blue-jean skirt.

The vampire grinned and reached for her. Spike dove at him, but was surprised to find himself landing in a cloud of dust. He looked up to see Willow grinning, practically jumping up and down in her excitement.

"I got one," she giggled. "That was so... cool." She reached down to help him up, still gushing over her one staking. "Buffy was right. Act helpless and they'll fall for it every time. Stupid vamps."

Spike stared at her. She was this excited over staking one measly little vampire? Her eyes were all wide and shiny, her grin boundless. Her hair, shorter than he liked, but still flattering, blew softly around her face. Her skin was all flushed and heated. She looked absolutely beautiful.

Riding high on adrenaline, and hoping she was too, Spike grabbed her by the shoulders and lowered his lips to hers. Before he could kiss her, she shoved him away.

"What are you doing?" she practically shouted. She planted her hands on her hips and watched him warily. "Are you possessed or something? 'Cause... what was that?"

Shaking his head at himself for being so stupid, Spike lit a cigarette. "What was what?" He acted innocent and nonchalant, but knew he wasn't fooling her at all.

She headed back toward the others, tossing a confused look over her shoulder at him.

Spike dropped his cigarette to the crypt floor and stomped on it. He'd have to... sweep or something, he thought absently, the floor was littered with cigarette butts.

Standing up, and feeling extremely grateful for not having made the same mistake as last night, Spike stomped over to Willow. She was still asleep, still smiling, and still pissing him off. He shook her shoulder unceremoniously. "Hey... " She didn't stir, so he shook her harder. "Wake up, Witch."

Willow grumbled and yawned. "What?" she whispered, snuggling back under his blanket and falling right back to sleep.

He stared at her for a few seconds, then chuckled. Shaking her wasn't doing any good, so he grinned and nibbled on her ear, unable to resist tasting her. "Willow. Wake up."

"No," she whined. "I was in the middle of a good dream." She yawned again, opening her eyes. Looking straight at his face, she groaned. "And, apparently, I'm still dreaming."

He regarded her with amusement. "Dreaming about me, pet?"

Willow's eyes flew open and locked with his. "Spike." Sitting up, she held the blanket to her chest and stared around her with wide eyes. "What am I doing here? What--"

Spike lifted an eyebrow at her. "That's what I'd like to know." He took his bottle of whiskey from the table drawer and sat down. Twisting off the cap, he watched her watch him. When it didn't look like she was about to stop staring at him anytime soon, he held the bottle out to her.

She shook her head sharply. "No, thanks. Last time I drank I did a spell, and Buffy ended up... " her eyes went even wider, if it was possible, and she suddenly looked scared. "So, how about them Broncos?"

Spike, in the middle of taking a drink, almost choked on the whiskey. "What did you say?" He coughed a few times and wiped his mouth. Willow--his Willow--had asked him the same exact thing earlier.

Willow shrugged dismissively. "Something Riley once said."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Spare me the Captain Cardboard-isms." And then what she'd started to say, hit him. "Buffy ended up... wanting to marry me?" He downed a fair amount of whiskey and glared at her. "You know," he said conversationally, "I wanted to kill you more than ever after that little stunt. At your little meetings, I'd sit there and think up different ways to do it." He ignored her frightened scrambling from his bed, and took another drink. "My favorite way, I think, was--"

"Okay, so, I gotta go, and, um... bye!" She ran past him, squealing in fright when he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Spike rolled his eyes and pulled her back in front of him. She stared at him, her heart beating triple time, making him feel all kinds of good. "I said I wanted to, not can... or even would if I could now."

Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. "You wouldn't kill me? Please, like I'm going to believe that."

He shrugged, not really caring if she believed him or not. "Why are you here, Red?"

She slowly pulled her hand from his, and paced away, trying to cover her nervousness. "Um, I was curious. I came here to ask you a question, but you weren't here. Then, I ran into someone else and he said something that got me thinking." She paused in her pacing and spun around toward him. Her mouth opened to say something, then shut again.

Spike held the bottle out to her, and she took it wordlessly, taking first a sip, then a gulp, then a few more gulps. He lit a cigarette, watching her. It wasn't long before the coughing started. Unable to stop, she sat on the floor, her head between her bent knees, trying to take huge gulps of air into her starved lungs, which of course started her coughing again.

"I think I'm back to wanting to kill you," he said with a chuckle.

"Ha ha," she croaked out, not raising her head. "Next time, warn me. Not that there'll be a next time. 'Cause there won't be." Her voice sounded husky... sexier than ever.

He joined her on the floor, taking the whiskey from her limp hand. "Sure, love." He knew damn well that he would be with her again... no matter what it took. "So... the reason you're here?"

"First tell me why you threatened Tara." She lifted her head and looked straight at him.

Spike's eyebrows dipped down into a thunderous frown. "What?" he asked in disbelief. "I never threatened Stutter Girl. What the hell has she been telling you?"

Willow's frown matched his. "That you told her to get out of Sunnydale or you'd kill her." She looked a little unsure, but gained confidence as she went on. "You've also been following her. I've seen you. Um, that time you knocked me down?"

He jumped to his feet, anger radiating off of him, and showing in his every movement. "I can't believe this crap! Are you and that damn group of yours going to blame me for everything? Running into you was a coincidence, it had nothing to do with Pasty Face."

Willow jumped to her feet, just as angry as he was. "Her name is Tara. And she doesn't lie." She swallowed hard when he got in her face threateningly.

"Are you calling me a liar, pet?" His voice was low and dangerous sounding, causing wonderful waves of fear to pour off of her. "Are you so quick to believe her? You might want to think about that a bit." Planting the seeds of doubt in Willow's mind was easier than he'd thought it would be. All it took was one small statement. And a few lies.

So, the blonde witch had told Willow of his threats, had she? He hadn't thought her brave enough to disregard his warning not to tell anyone. Obviously he'd misjudged her. His eyes narrowed in fury. Damn bitch was going to ruin all his plans.

Willow was blinking at him in confusion, not a bit of understanding on her face. "Why?"

Spike took a drag off his forgotten cigarette, and watched her. "Not my place to say. Ask her." He paced away, acting unconcerned, while inside he was practically jumping for joy. At this rate, Willow would be his within a few weeks.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I, uh... oh, I also wanted to know what last night was about. Did you-- why did you try to kiss me?"

"Lot of reasons, pick one." He tossed that out there with all the confidence of an arrogant vampire... something he used to be. Another swig of whiskey helped to build that arrogance.

"Huh?" Was her brilliant reply.

Spike almost laughed at the bewildered expression on her face. "Why do I do anything, pet? To torture the slayer, for fun, or because I want to... choose one."

She stiffened, turning her back on him. "Right. To torture Buffy. Well, from now on, don't. Okay?"

Spike heard the humiliation and--was that hurt?--in her voice, and sought to soothe it. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He thought she'd be happy if he discounted it as a means to hurt Buffy. "It wasn't that one," he said quietly, half hoping she hadn't heard him.

She turned back to him, her green eyes brighter than usual, her breathing slightly shallower than normal. She was studying him curiously, and openly. She was drunk. After the little bit she drank? Lightweight.

"Spike?"

"What?" he ground out. The way she was looking at him, coupled with the way she kept biting her lip, made him want to grab her and kiss her soundly. And more.

Her eyes finally rose back to his, and she asked a question he knew she wouldn't have had the nerve to if she wasn't plastered. "D-- do you... like me?" Even still, she stuttered it out in her charmingly shy manner.

More than anything, Spike answered silently, though I'll be damned if I know why. That answer wouldn't go over real well, he figured, so he played dumb. "What are you talking about?"

She shrugged, giving him a goofy smile. A giggle escaped her as she stumbled over to his bed and hopped up, nearly falling on her ass. She caught herself just in time and sat there swinging her legs. "You accused me of sleeping with him." She frowned and shook her head. "I mean he did. Accused me. She... slept with him... I think." She turned her questioning face to his and waited expectantly.

Spike had no idea what she was talking about. At first, he'd thought she was talking about him and future Willow, but how could she know about that? Unless she ran into future him and he told her... bloody hell.

"Who slept with who, love?" he asked, striding closer to her. He remembered future Willow telling him that she'd been wary of him during this time, but she'd also called him a hottie... so she'd obviously been attracted to him. Hoping to take advantage of that, and her inebriation, he stepped between her legs, resting his hands on either side of her.

She hardly even noticed, she was so busy looking at the ceiling, trying to find answers there. "I slept with him?" she tried, then, "You slept with her." Her face cleared and she smiled at him. "Yeah, that last one."

He grinned in amusement. "Her? Does the poor girl have a name?"

She laughed, her eyes twinkling in merriment. "Of course, otherwise she'd go through life being called, 'Hey you!' which would kinda suck. Like vampires."

Spike rolled his eyes and groaned. "That was bad, pet. Really bad."

Her grin widened. "You don't like my jokes, then bite me."

Spike rested his head on her thighs. "Give it up, please, you're killing me."

"But you're already dead--" Spike's finger on her lips kept her from making another bad joke. She pouted and nipped at his finger.

Spike's eyes lost all traces of amusement. Desire licked through him, like a stray flame from her fire. She was heat and warmth, and Willow. She was everything he wanted at the moment, and yet, he couldn't touch her. Couldn't have her.

Sure you can, his mind cajoled, she's drunk.

She was also attracted to him. It was obvious in the way her heart sped up when he touched her. The way her breath caught when he looked at her. She wanted him. He wanted her. So why the bloody hell wasn't he taking advantage?

Because he didn't want her that way. He wanted her sober and willing. He wanted her to remember.

Even so, when she suddenly looked at him seriously, and lifted a hand to his face, Spike had to fight himself not to grab her and shag her into oblivion. Her thumb traced the scar on his eyebrow, her fingers sliding across his cheek. Her warm touch sent threads of passion through him. He shifted slightly, his hands tightening on her waist.

She pushed her hands through his hair, and leaned down, pressing her lips to his. Giving up, Spike's own hands threaded through her hair and held her still as he slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting, and devouring, moaning as her tongue played with his. His mouth covered hers hungrily, the kiss sending new tendrils of desire through him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should stop this. Step away from her. Move back. Something, anything. But he couldn't bring himself to.

You're cheating on Willow, he thought to himself.

He broke the kiss, pulling away. She was panting, her eyes wide with lust, her face flushed, and he knew he was hurting her by rejecting her, but he also knew he couldn't do this with her. It felt wrong. The timing was off... she wasn't sober, he didn't want to take advantage of her. He told himself all sorts of excuses, too bad he didn't believe any of them. The plain, simple truth, was that he was faithful to the woman he lo-- was with. And that was Willow. Future Willow.

In the meantime, this Willow was pushing him away from her, and jumping off his bed. She stumbled to the door, and out into the night, collapsing on the grass a few feet away.

"Willow--" Spike began, helping her to her feet, but she cut him off.

"Don't. Please? I feel bad enough already."

She refused to look at him, and Spike was sure he'd lost her. Now she would turn into future Willow and hate him even more than before, all because he couldn't keep his hands and mouth to himself. But her next words blew him away.

"I don't know why I did it... I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry." She looked ready to cry.

Spike sighed heavily. He was all ready to toss her an excuse, thereby absolving himself of all guilt, but he just couldn't do it. Damn it. It was easy, just say it. 'You're drunk.' See? Easy to say. Just do it. "It's my fault," he said instead, groaning quietly at his poofish behavior.

Willow smiled thankfully at him, but shook her head. "No, it's not. I kissed you, this time. It's my fault. I've, uh, I've gotta go. Buffy will be worried."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Like she can pull herself away from G.I. Blow long enough to care. Hold on, I'll walk you home. Something happens to you I'm sure she'll blame me somehow."

Willow chuckled at his description of Riley and nodded. "Thanks."

Well, he thought, this was a start. Now all he had to do was get her to like him when she wasn't drunk, and then in a year and a half he'd have her.