Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, or 11.

PART 12

(October 2001)

Spike stood up, confused when William suddenly wasn't there anymore. It didn't take him long to realize he was back in his own time. Hopefully. He took off running, toward his crypt, finding Willow on the ground, the demon, once again in Oz's form, choking her. Her heartbeat was so faint, he could barely hear it.

With a growl, he vamped out and charged the demon, knocking it off Willow. She gasped for breath, and Spike felt relief flood through him just as a fist hit him in the face. Oz, little as he was, wasn't doing too much damage to the much taller vampire.
The demon snarled and morphed into Buffy. Complete with slayer strength? Spike wondered.

She attacked and Spike gave back as good as he got. He punched her in the face, following up with a swift kick to her chest. Buffy's little body went flying, landing on top of a headstone. She jumped back up with a snarl and flew at him. Spike dodged her fist, but when her leg swung out, sweeping his own out from under him, he went down, hard. The demon straddled him, and a stake suddenly slid out of her sleeve.

"Gosh, Spike. Isn't this how you always imagined it? Fantasized about it?" Buffy asked him.

Spike flipped her over, took the stake out of her hand and positioned it over her heart. "No. This is." He shoved the stake into her chest.

She looked down at her chest. Up at him. One eyebrow went up disdainfully. "Really, Spike. That never works." She morphed into Harmony. "Right, Blondie Bear?"

Spike punched her as hard as he could. Reminding him about Harmony was just plain tasteless.

"What is it with you and stabbing women in the heart? You know, if I were Freud--"

Spike punched her again. "Yeah, well, you're not. So just shut up, and die!"

She shrugged, shoved him off of her and stood up. "Not yet. Until next time. Ta-ta!" she sing-songed, and then was gone.

Spike stared after her for a moment, then went to help Willow. She was sitting in the grass, coughing and rubbing her neck. Spike knelt down to examine the damage, wincing when he saw the chain of bruises lining her throat. Willow had more lives than a Roparch demon and a cat put together. Someone up there loves her, he thought.

She allowed him to help her up, then pushed him slightly away. Her eyes closed and her hands wrapped around her throat. Not thirty seconds later, she opened her eyes and removed her hands. Her neck was almost fully healed, all that was left were faint bruises. She grinned proudly.

Spike scowled and moved away from her. "I told you not to do anymore spells. Christ, woman, are you trying to kill me?" Now that he was back, and they were both safe, he had every intention of following through on his promise to kill Willow. He grabbed her wrist, ignoring her efforts to pull away, and dragged her to her house. The demon knew about his crypt as well as her house, so he figured they may as well be comfortable while staying safe.

"Spike, let go," she whispered. Her voice wasn't quite as healed as the outside of her throat appeared to be. Good, now he didn't have to listen to her denials and lies and protests.

"Not gonna happen, Witch. Do you have any idea what I just went through?" he looked over his shoulder at her. She had the good sense to look guilty.

"You didn't run into yourself, did you?" she whispered, trying so hard not to sound as panicked as she obviously was.

"Yeah. I did. Had a nice long talk about... things. I also had a little run-in with Buffy. And you. Seems I'm being quite the pest. Wouldn't have anything to do with you, now would it?" he tossed at her.

"No," she mumbled. "Not me."

He stopped walking for a second, and stood looking up at the moon, a sigh working its way past his lips. He sure seemed to be doing a lot of sighing lately, he thought absently. A quick glance at her and he saw how close she was to falling asleep on her feet. He swung her into his arms, ignoring her whispered protests, and his own nagging thoughts, and continued to her house.

"I sure hope your parents aren't home, 'cause they're not gonna like me." He looked down at her, but she was asleep already.

He got to her house a few minutes before dawn, waking her up long enough to get her keys from her, then went inside. Her parents weren't home, he was happy to see. The sun started to rise just as he laid her in her bed. She sighed happily, and snuggled under the covers. Spike grabbed a blanket out of a closet in the hall and hung it in front of the French doors.

He pulled her shoes off, but left the rest of her clothes on her, sat down in her wicker chair and settled in for an uncomfortable day of sleep.



(October 2001)

"Really?" Willow asked, taking a bite of her toast. She filled a mug with coffee and handed it to Spike. It made him slightly nervous to see that her voice and throat were completely healed this morning. Had she done more magick? Maybe he was getting paranoid... nah. Just cautious.

"Yeah, really," he answered, taking the mug, and sitting at the kitchen table. He grinned at her as she took a long drink from her coffee, and sat across from him.

"Oh, this is bad. This is so bad. I mean, one person knowing was risky enough, but two people knowing could be catastrophic."

"Aren't you overreacting a bit?" Spike sat back, trying to work out the kinks that had developed from his chair bed.

"No. No, I'm just enough reacting. Now that we both know... past us, I mean, what's going to happen?" She paused, thinking about the consequences, then suddenly switched topics. "I really knew? I could do that?" She managed to look impressed, envious and wary all at once.

He snorted in amusement. Oh yeah, she was focused. "Yeah. Tara was teaching you. What I want to know is... what changed to make you want to learn? Or, to make her teach you?"

This whole time thing didn't make sense. Things were different, yet nothing had changed. Why? And how had Willow gone back in the first place? And again after that? His trip was a result of Willow's relocation spell gone wrong, he knew, but what about hers? And why had the shape-shifting demon killed Buffy and the others? Why hadn't it killed them? It had certainly had enough opportunities.

All excellent questions. Unfortunately, they were questions he didn't have answers for.

"I don't know," Willow finally answered. "I was wondering the same thing." She finished the last bite of her toast and took a huge gulp of her coffee, looking like she was preparing to go into battle. "So, um... what did you two talk about?" she asked casually, busying herself with cleaning up her crumbs and plate.

"We two who?" he asked, knowing full well who she was talking about. Her shoes squeaked lightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, reminding Spike of past Willow's green shoes. He cast a glance down at her feet and saw plain white tennis shoes. Normal shoes. A normal pair of black jeans too. And just a plain ole black T-Shirt. Odd that he hadn't noticed her change in style. Of course, he'd been too busy with Buffy to notice anyone else. He almost missed Willow's eclectic wardrobe.

She finished washing her plate and set it in the drainer, turning around to face him. "You and you. And you and me. You know, this is starting to get really confusing."

"Yeah it is. Call him William. We'll call past you... what?"

She blew a stubborn lock of hair out of her eyes, and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, what's your middle name?" he asked reasonably.

She sat across from him again. "Don't have one."

"What? Everybody has a middle name," he told her skeptically.

She shrugged irritably. "Yeah? Well the powers that be didn't see fit to give me one. Or my parents didn't. So, if everybody has one, what's yours, Spike?"

"The. As in William The Bloody."

Willow's snort of laughter rang through the kitchen, making Spike's lips twitch in amusement. "Cute." He grinned impudently. "Very funny." She kicked him lightly under the table. "You think you're a comedian. Key word being 'Think'."

"Yeah, yeah. How about Rose? Short for Rosenberg?"

She considered it for a second then shook her head. "Nah, too... um, what's the word? Oh, yeah. Wrong."

"It's just a temporary name," he told her reasonably. "You got a hang-up about names, don't you?"

"Fine," she said irritably, "let's call her Robin. As in Red Robin. As in back off or I'll call him Vanilla instead of William. Okay... Mr. Bloody?" She grinned cheekily.

"Fine," he grumbled. "What were we talking about anyway, when we got sidetracked? Oh, right. Robin and William."

Willow snickered. "Robin Williams?" Seeing his impatient glare, she shut up. "God, wake up on the wrong side of the chair, did we?"

"No, *we* didn't. *I* did, and I'm sore and hungry and tired and... whining like a wanker, and stopping now." He'd spent quite a bit of that time watching her sleep, though she didn't need to know that. Sleep hadn't come for a while, even after the sun rose, so he'd occupied himself by roaming around her room, then the rest of the house.

He'd found the forgotten blue panties as he wandered back to her room. An urge to wake her up and demand answers had come and gone. He'd leave her alone about it, and hopefully she'd tell him in her own time. If she didn't, then he'd demand answers.

After returning to the uncomfortable chair in the corner, he'd watched her sleep. She tossed and turned a lot before sitting up, throwing the covers off, and undressing. Apparently unaware of his presence. Obviously he hadn't been the only uncomfortable one.

The chair had become even more uncomfortable after that. So much so that he'd considered joining her in her bed. Platonically, of course.

Yeah, right.

"So... spill, blondie. What else happened?" Willow was watching him closely, trying to figure out how much he knew.

"Let's see." He ticked off each item on his fingers. "I ran into Buffy, went to Giles', got accused of stalking you, went to see my worse half, ran into you, found out a few things, and then ran into William, argued a bit, and then I was here again." So there, he thought. She was less than forthcoming about her trips in time, let's see how she likes it.

"Okaaaaaay... so, what'd Buffy have to say? What was it like seeing her again? Was she okay? Of course, she was okay, stupid question. Stalking me? What?" This last part seemed to have just registered in her mind.

He scowled, remembering William's threats toward Tara and his less than cavalier attitude toward Willow. "Seems William's become obsessed with you. I'm pretty sure that telling William about Buffy was a bad idea. I think he's decided to replace her with you."

"Oh. That could be bad, like, catastrophic bad. You were tortured by Glory. You saved Buffy, and... and Dawn, and the whole world in a way. What have I done? Wait, what? Me? No, see... there's no problem. Why would he want me? No reason, problem solved." She grinned happily.

He stretched back in his chair, watching her. She thought she was being all secretive and clever. Had she no idea what a terrible liar she was?

She cleared her throat nervously, obviously not liking the way he was staring at her. Her fingers played along the edge of the table. "You know, I didn't mean for anything like this to happen. I really didn't. I don't even know how I went back. Do you think the shapeshifter sent me back?"

He shrugged. "Who knows?"

She looked past him for a second, before letting her eyes settle on him again. "Um, so what did William have to say? About stuff?"

Spike almost choked on a mouthful of coffee. Subtlety was definitely not her strong suit. "Your secret is still safe, pet. He didn't tell me anything. Even when I flat out asked him."

She smiled in relief, but tried to cover it in confusion. "What secret? I don't have a secret, there's no secret, Spike. Anyone ever tell you you're paranoid?"

"I know you slept with him." He dropped that bombshell hoping to shock the truth out of her. And from the sudden paleness of her face, it looked like it was working.

"Slept with? With you? With Spike? With William? No. No, no I didn't sleep with anyone. Well, yes, I did, but we slept. Sleep was had. Not sex. There was no sex. Not with us." She was looking everywhere but at him, and he had his answer.

Willow had had sex with William. With him. He wasn't sure how it made him feel to know that Willow desired him enough to sleep with him. She'd wanted him.

But then again, his rational mind insisted, it was probably out of grief and desperation. Not out of any real feelings she had for him. He was a vampire, after all. And she had a girlfriend that she loved.

And now that he thought about it, her hesitation in telling him was most likely a result of embarrassment, and shame. She regretted it.

"And the bitemark?" he asked, hiding his sudden anger.

She looked panicked for a second, then her face cleared and she let out a little laugh. "Oh, that. Funny story really. Um, see, when you were drunk... I told you about that, right?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, um, see, you fell, and you hit your head... on a tombstone. There was blood everywhere, lots and lots of it. Everywhere. And you were passed out. Drunk. You needed to feed, so I let you drink from me. 'Cause... on account of the blood loss," she finished pitifully.

Spike kept silent, dragging out her misery for a full minute. "Thanks." There wasn't even a trace of amusement or disbelief in his voice.

She looked up, obviously surprised at his easy acceptance of her explanation. "You're welcome?"

He got up and refilled both of their mugs with coffee. They sat in silence, each one lost in their own thoughts.



(October 2001)

Spike shut off the TV and headed upstairs to Willow's room. She'd gone to bed a few hours before, leaving him to late night TV watching. He hadn't actually seen anything on the screen, he was too lost in thought to pay any attention to the actors or storylines, but he'd kept it on for noise.

He didn't like silence, didn't like being alone. That was what had his thoughts so occupied. He was alone again. The woman he loved was dead.

Willow, for reasons known only to her, had slept with William. And Willow was basically alone.

She had Tara, of course, but she'd slept with *him*, while still in a relationship with Tara.

He pushed Willow's bedroom door open, and stood there watching her. She was so beautiful. Her red hair spread out on her pillow was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen.

Lust and desire surged through him. He wanted her. Wanted to hold her, touch her. He moved further into the room, shutting the door behind him and toeing off his boots. The wicker chair wasn't very inviting looking. No, but that bed was. With her in it, anyway. He sat down in the chair, watching her and considering his options.

One; he could sleep in the chair and wake up stiff and uncomfortable. Two; he could sleep on the couch, or her parents bed, and run the chance of her parents coming home. Or three; he could slip into bed with Willow and wake up refreshed with someone next to him.

He hated being alone. He was tired of being alone.

He stood up, divesting himself of his clothes, and climbed into bed beside Willow. Pulling back the blanket, he admired her perfect body. There was a small round scar on her right shoulder from the crossbow bolt, and what looked like a faded bite mark on her left breast, but was probably something else. Had better be something else. None of the scars detracted from her beauty, however, she was still perfect. Curved in all the right places. The girl had one hell of a body, he thought with a grin.

She stirred slightly at the loss of her covers, so he laid back and covered them both up. Almost immediately, she curled into him, wrapping an arm around him and laying her head on his chest. Spike was suddenly wondering how he was supposed to get any sleep.



(October 2001)

"Spike?"

Spike jerked awake as the girl curled around him called his name. He'd been in the middle of a good dream when her voice penetrated his sleeping mind. Damn it. He'd been dreaming about Past Willow and Future Willow fighting over him. At least I'm wanted in my dreams, he thought dryly. "What? I'm trying to sleep."

"And therein lies the problem. I was quite happy being asleep until I rolled over and found a cold, dead guy in my bed. Why are you in my bed?"

He groaned silently. He wasn't about to tell Willow that his feelings for her were more than friendly these days. That he'd been steadily moving away from his feelings for Buffy and toward her. He lusted after her. Desired her. Cared for her.

Am I really that fickle? he thought. As soon as one love left, he went out and found another one? No, he didn't think so. There was just something about Willow that drew him to her. He hadn't noticed it until now, when there was no one left to distract him. That sounded horrible, but really wasn't. Willow was just one of those people that didn't command attention. Like Buffy did. Or Dru.

The object of his thoughts sighed lightly, her warm breath fanning across his cheek. "Spike... hello?" She shook him roughly.

"What?" he growled, opening his eyes to glare at her.

"Why are you sleeping in my bed, Goldilocks?"

Spike rolled away from her and settled back in to sleep. "My back and neck refuse to be subjected to that bloody chair again, and I doubt very much that your parents would appreciate finding a dead guy in their bed, or on their couch, should they come home." He draped an arm over his eyes, effectively stopping the conversation.

He could just imagine how much eye rolling Willow was doing at the moment, as she slipped out of bed. He was disappointed that she was leaving him alone, but not overly so. She was probably just putting on more clothes or something. He grinned, lifting his arm surreptitiously to watch her. Damn. She slipped a robe on and headed out the door.

"Hey, where are you going?"

She didn't even spare him a glance. "My parents' room."

Spike sat up, the blanket falling to his lap. He'd enjoyed sleeping next to Willow. Enjoyed the feel of her small warm body against his. "Um, pet, won't they wonder why you're in there instead of in here? What if they see me in here?" He smirked and stretched lazily when she turned around. "In all my naked glory."

She shrugged, unconcerned, and unaffected by his display. "Won't happen. They don't come in here, and even if they did, they'd probably think you were me."

Spike looked at her skeptically. "Real observant people, are they?"

"They're who they are. Good night." She started to leave the room, but stopped and waggled her finger at him. "Stay." And then she was gone, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Spike waited a total of ten minutes before crawling into bed with her in her parent's room. He fell asleep almost immediately.



(October 2001)

Willow woke up with a feeling of contentment. She felt safe. At home. Not home, as in a place, but home, as in a feeling of rightness.

Spike, she thought.

Tara, her mind tossed back.

Her dream from last night came back to her and she flushed. William had shown up in Sunnydale and snuck into her bed while she slept, then made love to her. She closed her eyes and stretched, grinning from ear to ear. Spike was as good a dream lover as he was a real lover.

And then a thought struck her. It had been a dream, hadn't it?

Her eyes flew open, greeted with a thankfully empty bed. Her parent's bed. Um, okay. She was in her parent's room, at her house. Oh yeah, Spike had crawled into bed with her, he just hadn't made love to her.

And that wasn't disappointment she felt.

So she had come in here, to get away from a naked Spike in her bed. She'd slept alone after that. And now she was alone in the house. Not alone, she thought, hearing someone moving around downstairs.

It was Spike. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. And why was she so happy about Spike being there? God, what had she been thinking?

About Spike. Naked Spike.

Oh, boy. She was even cheating on Tara in her dreams. It was pretty obvious to her now. She had feelings for Spike. Big time love-ish type feelings. Gushy feelings, she thought with a groan. Why was she never satisfied with the person she was with? She loved Tara, didn't she? The answer was immediate. Yes. Absolutely loved her. But she wasn't sure if she was in love with her anymore.

And Spike? What was it that she felt for him? Love? Yes. In love? Maybe.

Crap.

She threw the covers back, grabbed some clean clothes and jumped into the shower, vowing never to dream about Spike and sex again.

If only it were that easy.