Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, or 11.

PART 13

(October 2001)

Spike watched Willow pace the small area, sighing for the tenth time in an hour. "Will you stop that?" he griped. "It's not helping."

She tossed him a glare and slumped against the sewer wall, oblivious of the gunk and goop that was now on her clothes.

"Where is it? You're sure this was the spot?" She gestured around them at the sewer juncture they were standing in.

"Positive," he answered from his spot by the north sewer. "I was standing just over there," he pointed directly across from himself. "She was there," he pointed to the center of the juncture. "And she seemed to be praying to something right about where you're standing."

Willow pushed away from the wall, turning to look at it suspiciously. "Okay, so I'm an evil shapeshifter... who do I pray to?"

He lifted his eyes from his perusal of the generous amount of leg showing from underneath her skirt, and shook his head. "Got me. As far as I know, they work alone."

"Well," she said exasperatedly. "What did she say? Anything that might help here, Spike. I want to get this thing. I want to kill her." She carelessly knelt in front of the wall she'd just vacated, examining it closely.

He pushed away from the sewer tunnel entrance, and grabbed her arm, pulling her up beside him. "We've been here an hour. I don't think she's coming back. Probably hasn't been back here since I found her."

Willow yanked her arm away from him. "I'm staying. This is the only lead we have."

Lighting a cigarette to cover his irritation with her sudden need to find the demon, he paced away from her. "We've also got a whole shop full of books, a library, and a computer. We can look things up. Do research. That kind of crap."

"To hell with research," she yelled angrily. "This thing--this demon--killed everyone I know. Everyone I cared about. So don't tell me about taking my time and waiting, and looking things up... I want results. Now!" She kicked the wall in fury, not even wincing at the blow.

Spike watched her carefully. Something was definitely wrong. This afternoon, when she finally came downstairs, she seemed fine. A little uncomfortable at facing someone she'd slept with earlier... only slept with, unfortunately, nothing more. But as the day wore on, she grew anxious and frustrated with their lack of information regarding the shapeshifter. She snapped at him at every turn, insulted him. And once, she'd even hit him.

Well, pushed him out of her way, actually. And she'd apologized immediately afterwards, but the fact that she'd done it at all, was in itself unusual. Willow didn't do violence. Except on demons... demons who weren't Spike or Angel. Later, after she ate dinner, she accidentally knocked over her glass of water, spilling a small amount of liquid on the floor and table, but something inside her snapped, and she sent the glass and plate crashing to the floor where they shattered.

He watched her bend down to clean the mess up, and was surprised to hear her laughing. Figuring it was her way of dealing with the loss of her friends, he left her alone, but since then, she'd done nothing but yell and shout, and laugh. Everything but cry.

And that's when he remembered the spell she'd done on herself after coming home from the hospital. "Willow, we're leaving." Without waiting for an answer from her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her with him down the tunnel. She tried to get free, but he held on, despite the twinge of pain in his head warning him not to hurt her.

"No, we're not. You're free to go if you want, but I'm staying, now let go." She yanked hard, and dug her heels into the slimy ground. Her tennis shoes slipped, and she had to stop her tirade to catch herself.

"There's something wrong with you, damn it. She's not coming back here, so let's just get-- ow! Bloody hell, what was that for?" She'd actually bitten him. The witch had bitten him. After examining the fleshy part of his hand between thumb and forefinger, he sucked on the minuscule amount of blood that trickled out.

She straightened up, glaring at him, her breath coming out in pants. "I told you I'm not leaving, demon."

"Demon?" he repeated incredulously. "That's it, I am--"

"Not the boss of me," she ground out, backing away from him, trailing her hand along the wall. "So, unless you want me to do one of my extra special spells on you, I suggest you keep your hands off of me. Got it?"

He followed her, not about to let her go off on her own, or leave her here alone. But how was he supposed to get her up to the surface to figure out what was wrong with her if he couldn't hurt her? He was pretty sure after that last attempt that she wouldn't go willingly, so force was in order. Too bad he couldn't use force. Appeal to her common sense?

"Willow," he said softly, taking another step toward her and holding his hand out to show her how harmless he was, "something's wrong. You've got to know that. This isn't you."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's a thing we humans call emotions, something you'd know nothing about." Her eyes pinned him in place, daring him to take another step. He did. She raised her hands, chanting loudly, her voice echoing off the walls.

Seizing his chance, Spike darted forward and punched her in the jaw. Her eyes went wide as she sagged toward the ground. He wanted to catch her, but he wasn't faring much better. Pain ripped through his skull, burning white hot behind his eyes. He sank to the ground, barely wincing at the squishy whatever he landed in, and cradled his aching head in his hands.

"She better appreciate this," he muttered harshly.

He took a few deep breaths before forcing himself to his feet and leaning against the wall. Pain was still shooting idly through his brain, as if it had all the time in the world. Sighing heavily, knowing it wouldn't get any better until he had blood, he bent and picked her up, hefting her in his arms with another sigh. The things he did for her.

"She *damn* well better appreciate this," he repeated.

Trundling through the slime and the sludge with an unconscious body in his arms wasn't the easiest thing to do, but he made it. Staring up at the manhole he had to get her up to and through, he groaned. Maybe it'd be better if he woke her up, even with the way she'd been acting. It'd certainly be easier on his back and arms. But, even if he wanted to risk her wrath again, she probably wouldn't wake up anyway, he'd hit her fairly hard.

Tossing her over his shoulder--gently--he pulled himself slowly up the metal ladder, and climbed out of the suddenly smaller-than-it-was-before manhole. And they were back outside by the old high school. Setting her down on the wet grass, he sat beside her, and took a deep breath, tossing her a scowl. She didn't look it, but she was heavy.

Her house was closest, so he decided to take her there and search through the spell books. The answer had to be there somewhere. And damn her for doing the spell in the first place. Picking her up again, he started for her house. The going was easier this time with no slime to watch out for, no slipping feet. He made it within minutes, laying her on the couch while he went upstairs for the aspirin bottle. A trip to the kitchen for a glass of water, and a bag of frozen peas later, and he was sitting beside her, tapping her face gently.

Thirty minutes later, he looked up from one of her spell books to see if she was awake yet. She was still passed out on the couch, in the same position he'd set her down in. No matter what he did those first few minutes, she wouldn't wake up, so he'd left her to sleep it off. Either he'd hit her harder than he thought, or this was another side effect of the spell... or of her out of control emotions. Whatever it was, he wasn't too worried. Her heartbeat was strong, and her breathing was even. She'd snap out of it eventually.

Another ten minutes passed before he finally found the spell she'd used. An Emotion Control spell. Well, duh. All right, now all he had to do was figure out how to reverse it. After a century with Dru, he should've learned a few things about spells.

Should've.

It took him another hour, and some quality time with her computer to figure out how to do it. And of course it was a simple thing. Just light a few candles and chant the right words, and voila, she was cured.



(October 2001)

Willow woke up with a raging headache, and a sore jaw. Her knees were kind of aching too. She hadn't a clue as to what had happened to make her feel this way, but she was pretty sure Spike was involved somehow. He usually was. A rank smell made its way to her nose, and she quickly sat up, trying to escape it. Her eyes focused on her living room wall, and Spike asleep in the chair across from her.

Books of all shapes and sizes littered the floor and table top. Apparently he'd been researching something. Or they had? She couldn't remember. And that smell was permeating her senses again. Yuck.

Swinging her legs to the floor, she sat forward, resting her head in her hands. Pain shot through her jaw as soon as she touched it, causing her to shout, rather loudly, in surprise.

Spike's eyes opened, focusing on her with a sour look. "You're not going to bite me again, are you?"

Her eyebrows rose skyward. "Me, bite you? Hello, you're the vampire of the group. And it's me who's in pain and probably bruised," she told him, gently probing her teeth with her tongue. Everything felt all right. No missing teeth, or blood.

"Yeah, well, you're welcome." He sat up, giving her yet another belligerent look. "And next time you do a spell to control your emotions, don't."

"What?" Her confusion was real, but she was mostly concerned with where the smell was coming from. Looking down at her clothes, she realized it was her. "Ew." Seeing a particularly nasty spot of brown on her right knee, she stuck her tongue out in disgust. "I am so going to take a shower now. Fill me in later."

Spike sighed as she darted up the stairs trying to keep from gagging.

Freshly showered, and feeling like a million--scratch that--feeling like a half a million bucks, Willow went into her room. And look, there was Spike. What was he doing in her room? Thankfully, she was already dressed, and completely covered, otherwise, there'd be an awkward thing happening here. She'd had time to think about it, and was pretty sure he had no idea what he was talking about. The spell hadn't gone wrong. Right? And if it had, which it hadn't, she'd know about it. Wouldn't she? Of course, she would. But nothing had happened that she knew of.

"Okay, dude, spill it," she told the overly handsome vampire on her bed. And he was on her bed why? She sat on her desk chair, combing her hair and waiting for his explanation.

"First of all, never call me that again. Second of all, you don't remember your little emotional breakdown?" He leaned back against the wall, stretching out. Looking mighty comfortable on *her* bed.

"Sort of," she said with a frown, "I mean, I had this dream that I yelled at you. A lot. And bit you?" She sighed in frustration. "That wasn't a dream, was it?" Setting the brush on her desk, she pointed to her jaw. "What's this? A bonus from you? Everything since this morning is kind of blurry... like a dream, or something. I really don't remember anything concrete since... uh," she massaged her forehead, trying to think back. "Oh, hey! You snuck into my bed last night."

He waved his hand dismissively. "That was almost twenty-four hours ago, pet." He snorted and chuckled. "A push and a bite ago. Not to mention the screams and insults."

"Twenty-four hours?" That couldn't be right. She'd lost a day? How? The spell. It had to be that stupid spell. "Did it break down? The spell, I mean." But, wait. "Insults? What'd I call you?" she asked in dread. Hopefully nothing too terribly bad.

He laughed heartily, swinging his legs to the floor. "Demon. It was terrible." He sniffed, wiping at his dry eyes. "I'm, like, so hurt."

"First of all," she said in imitation of his earlier words, "never do Valley Girl talk again. Second of all, sorry. I mean, well, you know. For being insulting, and biting you. It was rude of me," she said primly.

"Rude, right. That's what it was." He laid back with a yawn, running his hands through his hair tiredly. "So, everything all under control now? No more outbursts on the way?"

She shrugged. "Pretty much don't know. Tell me what happened. Please?" She hated the feeling that she might have lost control. She was all about control. Being in charge wasn't a huge part of who she was, but being in control was. So, to have lost that was galling. It totally sucked.

He told her what happened, filling in the last twenty-four hours' worth of yelling, bitching, and evil-doing on her part. It sounded familiar, like she'd dreamed it, but it still didn't feel real.

"God, I am such a bitch," she joked, feeling anything but lighthearted. "A regular Cordelia." Hearing the self-pity in her voice, she rolled her eyes. "And, apparently, quite the sad sack."

"Well," Spike said, stretching out, "you've earned it. And I won't even say I told you so." He closed his eyes and rolled over. "How about some sleep now?"

"Fine," Willow said. "Sleep. Enjoy. I'm going to go eat something." She closed the door on Spike, who was waving her away with a yawn, and went downstairs to eat. She felt like she hadn't eaten in a week. Pizza sounded good... or, a sandwich, ooo, ice cream sandwiches.



Spike woke up hours later, feeling rather bereft of Willow's company, and left her room for her parents'. He was hoping she'd be in there, preferably naked, but he'd be satisfied with just finding her. Pushing the door open, he spotted her red hair immediately, even among the multitude of blankets and sheets. As he had before, he shut the door, and joined her in bed, sighing in contentment when she turned into him, and pressed her lips to his chest. He sucked in a breath when her lips pressed to his collar bone, and her hand slid down to rest on his hip. She was a little seductress in her sleep.

"Spike?"

Spike froze, preparing for the freak out that was sure to come. She was awake, and in just a second she'd yell at him for climbing into bed with her again. He looked down at her, expecting to see anger, or fear, but neither were present. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and she traced soft circles on his stomach.

He leaned down and whispered, "Yeah, love?"

"I missed you."

He knew exactly what she meant by that, and as he started to wake her up more fully, he thought to himself... why not get comfort from someone he cared about? Someone he had feelings for, and who apparently had some kind of feelings for him. Instead of doing what he knew was right, he took her hand in his and kissed the palm, letting his other hand come up to cradle her cheek. "I missed you too," he said softly, his eyes caressing her sleepy face.

Dropping the hand from her cheek, he settled it on her stomach, tracing circles like she was doing on him. The muscles under his hand tensed as she pushed herself up, and kissed him. He ran his hands along her body, intent on finding out what she felt like without clothes on. She deepened the kiss as his hands slowly moved from her abdomen to her breasts. She arched into his touch, moaning, and he hardened in response to the purely feminine sound.

He knew, even as he kissed her, that he shouldn't be letting this happen. He wanted her, and she had slept with William, but... did she feel anything more than friendship for him? As she caressed him, he threw caution to the wind, and said to hell with all that.

He would have Willow.

He wanted to take his time with her since she seemed to want him as much as he wanted her, but she wasn't making it easy. Her hands were all over him, on his chest, his face, his neck. When she lifted herself on top of him, he broke the kiss and rolled them over, so he was on top. He wanted her now. Needed to be inside of her. It had been too long since he'd had a woman.

He caressed her breasts, hefting the weight in his hands and playing with the nipples with his thumbs. Her eyes burned with desire and her breathing was harsh and shallow. He leaned down and kissed her softly. Her mouth opened under his, and he slanted his mouth over hers with a fierceness that spoke of his need. She returned the kiss with equal fervor.

He moaned when her hand slid lower, her small fingers wrapping around his shaft. He sucked in an unneeded breath and broke the kiss, leaning down to suck gently on her nipple. Her back arched up, and her eyes closed.

She slid her hand along his length a few times, making him shudder with need. He stilled her hand, pulling it away from him, and kissing her palm. She opened her eyes again and smiled, reaching up and pulling his mouth to hers.

Her hips lifted up off the bed when he slid a finger inside of her. She was ready for him. Wasting no more time, he positioned himself between her thighs and slid inside of her.

Their gasps of pleasure mirrored each other as he sank all the way in. He had to hold still for a few breathless seconds, while she adjusted to him. When she began to move against him, he pulled out almost completely, then thrust back in again. She held him to her, caressing his back, and wrapping her legs around him. He kissed her deeply, fighting the urge to bite her. Taste her. Drain her dry. A low growl escaped him at this last thought. His face changed, his fangs elongated, and he wasn't able to stop himself.

He bit into her neck as he thrust inside of her again and again. She whimpered, and he wasn't sure if it was in pain or pleasure. At this point, he was hard pressed to care. He had a warm body underneath him, he was thrusting inside of her, and drinking her blood.

He was in ecstasy. Heaven hadn't a thing on vampires.

As he continued to drink from her, she tightened around him. Pushed over the edge, Spike followed her into orgasm, growling into her neck.

And still he drank.



(October 2001)

Spike was at the kitchen table drinking a tasteless mug of pig's blood from Willy's the next night, when an angry and frightened scream echoed throughout the house. He went running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, following her heartbeat into the bathroom. His hand was on the doorknob when the door flew open, and Willow came out, running into him. Her wet hair was combed carelessly back, away from her face. She had on a pair of black shorts, and a small black tank top. She looked beautiful.

And then he saw her eyes. They were black as well.

Uh-oh. Magick.

She was staring at him in that way that screamed, 'I'm going to turn you into something gross and disgusting.' Her voice, when she spoke, was low and unnerving.

"Did you bite me?" she asked, gesturing to the bite mark left behind by their lovemaking.

Okay, there were a few responses here. One, lie. Two, run. Three, act cocky. As usual, cocky won out.

He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms, looked her up and down, and shrugged. "Yeah."

Her eyes narrowed at him, and the blackness started to swirl around in a really neat way. But when she started to speak in Latin, he dropped his nonchalant pose and slapped his hand over her mouth. "Oh, no you don't." He grabbed her hand and dragged her into her bedroom. The small, narrow hallway made fighting, if it came to that, a bit hard. He let go of her mouth and flung her away from him. "No. Magick. Around. Me. It's English, it's a pretty simple concept, so how many times do I have to tell you? I've had enough of your magick to last a lifetime."

She turned her eyes on him, and he was glad to see they were back to normal. "Why did you bite me? And what else did you do to me?" she asked him, her tone telling him what she meant by 'what else'.

So, what, she didn't remember what had happened between them? Or maybe she thought it was just a dream again... or William.

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans and lit one. He'd actually been afraid this might happen after her little memory problem the night before. Seemed to be a side effect of the spell. Since she'd been asleep a little over twelve hours because of the amount of blood he'd taken, he'd had plenty of time to come up with a plausible excuse.

And, the phrase, tit for tat, came to mind. She wanted to be hush-hush about what happened between her and William, then fine. He'd give her something to wonder about.

"Came up here to check on you after you went to bed. You were having a nightmare or something, and when I tried to wake you up, you pulled me down on the bed, and told me to feed off of you. You were rather insistent too, so I obliged. Figured, what's a little blood between friends?" Seeing her skeptical look, he raised an eyebrow at her. This would teach her to lie to him. "Guess you were dreaming about William," he said softly, mockingly. "You didn't tell me you had to force him to do it."

She flushed, and her eyes went wide. He could see the struggle in those eyes. She wanted to tell him the truth, that she'd never forced William to feed off of her, that it had been during sex, and therefore he must be lying. Yet, on the other hand, if she told him that, she'd have to admit to sleeping with William, and lying to Spike. She just couldn't do it.

"So, why?" he repeated, "Because you wanted me to."

She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again. She nodded curtly, and turned away from him.

Spike watched her ignore him for a few seconds, then turned and left the room, and then the house.

He'd screwed up. No matter what he told her, she wouldn't be happy with him. So, he was caught as much as her over telling her the truth. Damned if he did, and damned if he didn't.

Damn it.



(October 2001)

In a dormitory on the UC Sunnydale campus, a young blonde girl lay sleeping on her bed, books and papers spread around her. Her cat, commonly known as Miss Kitty Fantastico padded silently over to the window and jumped up on the sill. She stood up on her hind legs, and stretched tall. Seconds later, the beloved cat evaporated into mist and floated through the partially open window to the ground.

The real Miss Kitty Fantastico cautiously emerged from under the bed, her ears flattened down, and hissing at the now empty window sill. She jumped up on the bed, watching the last spot she'd seen the fake cat in, and belatedly guarded her mistress.

The mist traveled low to the ground, disturbing fallen leaves and blades of grass as it moved off campus. Moved with a purpose. As soon as it was clear of prying eyes and stray glances, the mist swirled into a human form and took shape. People walking down the street that night may very well have wondered why Arnold Schwarzenegger was in Sunnydale, and furthermore, why he answered to the name, 'Merle'.

He strode purposely down the street, toward the center of town. Knowing where he was going, he made turn after turn without needing to look at street signs. He stopped in front of the closed Espresso Pump, waving his hand in front of him. The air shimmered and brightened with a light that wasn't there. The strip of shimmering air lengthened and widened until Merle was able to step through it. As soon as he did, the air returned to normal, and the light disappeared.



(April 2000)

"Merle?" a voice questioned. "What are you doing here?"

Merle turned around with a grin. "Gene! It's been a while man, where you been?" He turned to the Djin in front of him. The Djin who looked exactly like Barbra Streisand at the moment. "Take that face off," Merle laughed, rolling his eyes. "She's creepy as all get-out."

The Djin pouted slightly, then dropped the glamour, allowing his true form to show; that of a blue-skinned demon with gold sigils. His perfectly creased black slacks and crisp white shirt was in complete agreement with his upper crust French accent. "Better?" he asked.

Merle shrugged. "Anything but that woman is fine."

Gene laughed heartily, his eyes dancing with merriment. "Issues?"

Merle shook his head, slapping his old friend on the back. "What are you doing here? Got a victim in town?"

Gene shrugged dramatically. "I am here on my own. I thought it was time for a vacation, and this charming little town is purported to be an excellent getaway for demons."

"Oh, so it's all play and no work for you for a while, huh? I envy you, man. Myself, I'm on assignment here." Hearing a noise in a nearby alley, he turned to peer into it, but saw only darkness. "Yeah, they've got me doing the old nine to five. Well actually it's more like twenty-four seven," he laughed, "but, hey, who am I to complain? Vampires, witches... this job has everything."

Gene sniffed importantly, looking way too arrogant for his own good. "I have heard rumors of a great power gathering here. There's a search out for demons for hire. Are these the same people you're working for?"

Merle frowned, wondering if the Bosses had put out word for more demons. Why? He was doing a good enough job on his own. Hadn't he killed them all? He sure as hell had. And all on his own too. So where did they get off hiring more demons? Damn traitors. Disgruntled at being left out of the loop, he shook his head, not offering up any information. "So where you been? Last I saw you was back in eighteen seventy-one. Just after that little bumbling incident with Mrs. O'Leary." He laughed heartily in remembrance. Those had been fun times.

Gene's smile turned into a frown, and his narrowed at Merle. "I do not bumble."

"Okay, okay. Not usually, but you sure did that time, even you have to admit that." He tossed an amused grin at Gene, and waited for him to acknowledge the truth in his words.

After a minute, Gene nodded and laughed with him. "This is true."

Merle shook his head, wishing times were as simple as they used to be. "What was it you were supposed to do exactly? Keep her from being robbed and murdered?"

"And I did just that," Gene told him, still chuckling. "She was neither robbed, nor murdered."

Merle's snort of laughter had Gene grinning. "That's true. Good thing you'd disguised yourself as a... now what was it? A cow?" he asked, his voice unsure, though they both knew he knew what he was talking about. "You protected her very well."

Gene shrugged, looking all frustrated and annoyed, though in truth he was having as much fun reminiscing as Merle was. "Well what was I supposed to do? I was forbidden to take the form of a human or demon. I chose what I thought would be best."

"And a cow was a wonderful choice," Merle agreed. "You couldn't have been expected to take the form of a dog, or cat, something that could warn her and roam free, no, a cow was best. That way, you could knock over a lantern to get her attention when you saw the killers coming."

Gene closed his eyes and sighed, still smiling. "I made a mistake on that part, I admit, but the rest of my decisions were beyond reproach."

Merle sniggered, changing into the form of a burn victim. "Yes, starting the Chicago Fire was beyond reproach. Good work, Gene." Shaking his head, he morphed back into his favorite human form.

Gene nodded eagerly. "I'd still be working for the Powers of Good, had I not started that fire. I'm happier where I'm at now. No more middle management for me. I'm a, how do you say? Player?"

"Yeah," Merle snorted, "you're a player. So what've you been doing with yourself since then?"

Gene shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Mostly little things. At my own convenience, of course, not at the beck and call of the Powers anymore."

Merle sucked his teeth, nodding attentively. No longer ticked off, and feeling quite generous, he decided maybe it wouldn't be so bad working with Gene again. "I've got something going on here. Maybe I could put in a good word for you. See if they're looking for new help." Seeing Gene's narrowed eyes, he added, "If you want to. I mean, you're on your own now, and doing your own thing. But if you want some work, I can ask around."

"Sure," Gene told him. "If I'm not busy, and if my particular skills are needed." He looked at the expensive watch on his left wrist and sighed. "I have to be off, I'm meeting a few friends for drinks at a place called Willy's."

"All right," Merle agreed, "I've gotta be going too. See you around." They parted ways, Gene walking in the direction of Willy's, Merle heading toward a nearby cemetery. Got a vampire to see, he thought to himself.



(April 2000)

Willow and Tara stared at the disappearing demons, then looked at each other. "W-- we should go--"

"Tell Giles and Buffy," Willow finished, grabbing Tara's hand and pulling her with her down the alley. "Absolutely."

They ran the whole way, not stopping to discuss what they'd just witnessed, there was plenty of time to do so at Giles' place. Besides, why go through it twice when once would suffice? Ten minutes later, they charged through the ex Watcher's door, breathing heavily.

"Demons," Willow panted, bent over at the waist with her hands on her knees. "Two of them. Shapeshifters."

Tara, half leaning against the door frame, and half leaning against Willow, nodded at the confused older man. "In league with vampires."

Giles, in the middle of walking across the room with a cup of tea in one hand, and a book in the other, stopped to stare at the exhausted girls. "Um, who is in league with vampires?" he queried, at a loss.

"Arnold Schwarzenegger," Willow answered, standing straighter now that she'd gotten most of her breath back.

"And Barbra Streisand," Tara added with a giggle.

"Oh." Giles nodded, took a few steps toward the couch, then stopped. "I'm sorry, what?"

Willow laughed with Tara at the lost look on Giles' face. "We saw them by the Espresso Pump. Shapeshifters we think, since one of them sort of did this cool morphing thing."

"It *was* neat," Tara agreed, smiling at Willow, then frowning, "ex-- except what it turned into. That was gross."

"Very gross." Willow sat on the arm of the couch, facing Giles. "They were talking about the Chicago fire... from what I heard, I think one of them turned into a cow and knocked over a lantern, starting the fire."

Giles' eyebrows rose comically high. "The Chicago fire of eighteen seventy-one? But that happened in eighteen seventy-one."

"Duh." Willow chuckled, ignoring Giles' embarrassed look. "They were talking about vampires and witches... and something else. We couldn't hear everything they said 'cause they were talking kind of low. So we only caught parts of the conversation."

"Something about a job one of them was doing," Tara added, joining Willow by the couch.

"Right," Willow agreed, "and I think one of them--the one we couldn't see--was looking for work?" she asked, looking for confirmation from Tara, who shrugged apologetically. Willow shook her head in amazement. "Wow, these things must live a long time to have been around in eighteen seventy-one. Maybe they're immortal, like vampires."

Giles set his cup down and went over to the bookshelf by the door. "It's possible, and definitely intriguing," he told them, searching through his books. "However, I don't think this is an emergency. I appreciate the information, and will look into it thoroughly, however, right now all our attention needs to be focused on Adam, and his activities."

Willow nodded, watching him pull books from their shelves. "Right. So... we'll just go then. Um, you know," she shared a smile with Tara, and got to her feet, "elsewhere. The Bronze. Gonna meet Buffy there... so..."

Giles smiled and looked up briefly. "All right. I'll see you later then."

Tara gave Willow one of her disapproving looks once they were outside. "You shouldn't lie to Mr. Giles."

Willow nodded somberly, turning back to the apartment. "You're right. I should go back in and apologize. Tell him we're really going to find a couple of guys and drag them back to our room to have sex with." She giggled madly when Tara grabbed her arm and stopped her from opening the apartment door.

"Don't you dare," Tara gasped, laughing with Willow. "He'd probably have a heart attack."

"Well then, maybe I should tell him the truth. That you and I are going back to do spells, and maybe other things." She raised her eyebrows a few times, grinning and ruining the leer she was going for.

Tara shook her head and rolled her eyes. "He'd definitely have a heart attack if you told him that." She hid her sudden frown behind a cautious look around them. "Um, let's go be inside somewhere." Her steps quickened as she felt someone watching them.

Willow, misinterpreting her friend's sudden want to be inside, grinned even wider. "Okay."



(October 2001)

Willow once again checked to make sure she had enough protection before heading out the door. She turned the key in the lock and heaved her bag onto her shoulder, heading toward the nearest cemetery.

A demon hunting we go.

She really hoped she wouldn't run into Spike tonight. Normally, she went hunting with him, but not anymore, due to him biting her and screwing things up. So unless she was going to sit home and wait for the shapeshifter to show up at her door and beg her to kill it, she had some patrolling to do. If Spike knew she was going, he'd probably try, as usual, to get her to stay home. Like a child.

So she had almost been bitten a few times by vampires. It wasn't like it hadn't almost happened before. Or actually happened. Hello, marks on her neck, by said vampire. But, no, male chauvinistic Spike wanted Willow to stay home, like the child he obviously thought she was. And she was in no way going out to spite him. No, he was no longer a part of her decision making. At all.

He didn't realize how much it meant to her to find this demon and kill it. It was pretty much the driving force behind her life now. Not a day went by that she didn't think about destroying the demon that had killed her friends. So, he could tell her to stay home as much as he wanted, she just wouldn't do it.

On her way tonight, she decided to swing past Giles' apartment. Old apartment, she corrected herself. She hadn't been back to it since that night. Hadn't felt the need to. She'd had hope that William would fix things, and there was no point in doing something difficult if it became unnecessary. But now, a month after it had happened, a week since her last visit to the past, Willow was beginning to force herself to accept facts.

They were dead, and they weren't coming back.

William, for whatever reason, had failed, and her friends were dead. Permanently. It was time for her to accept it. She was alone, except for Spike and Tara. And, with things the way they now were between her and Spike... she only had Tara.
Spike. What was she going to do about him? When she wasn't with him, she felt his loss like an ache.

Because he's been a part of your life for over four years, in one way or another, her mind answered.

That was simple enough to believe. She liked that answer, it let her off the hook. It meant that she wasn't in love with him.

Even if he was totally crushable.

Satisfied with her answer, Willow turned the corner and entered the courtyard of Giles' former apartment. Everything looked the same. It shouldn't. It shouldn't look like nothing had happened, because something had. Something that had changed her life forever.

She went over to the fountain in the center of the courtyard, and sank down on the low brick wall, dropping her bag to the ground beside her. She absently rubbed her right shoulder.

His window was dark. The door was closed. She wondered if his belongings had been moved out. Who would have taken them? Did he have any family? They really hadn't known much about Giles... never really bothered to ask. She got to her feet and went to his door, resting her hand lightly against it.

"Bye, Giles," she whispered.

She turned around and picked up her bag on her way out of the courtyard.

The first cemetery was only a few blocks away from here. As she walked, she pulled out a stake, keeping it firmly in her hand as she made her way there. Once inside, she strolled through, almost like she was out for a walk on the beach. Looking for all the world like a helpless female, lost in the big bad darkness.

Her plan worked, and soon she was dusting vamps left and right. Well, left... since she only found one, but she could have dusted them left and right if there were more. She was sure of it. The one that did show was obviously a newbie, since he still had dirt clinging to him. She saw him in front of her, and after a small amount of mental encouragement, Willow knocked him to the ground from behind and planted the stake firmly in his back. Unfortunately, the heart happened to be on the other side, and she had to yank out the stake and re-stake him, this time in the right spot.

"Duh," she told herself in annoyance.

She climbed to her feet and dusted herself off, looking around for more. Didn't look to be anything except her up and about. A noise off to her right had her thinking that maybe she was going to be able to tell Tara she'd dusted them left and right after all, but after carefully checking it out, it proved to be nothing more than a curious cat.

She held her hand out and knelt down. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty--" the cat snarled at her and took off in the opposite direction. Willow shrugged, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and heading to the next cemetery.

That one proved to be equally as dead as the first. Literally. In the fifth and last one, Willow hit pay-dirt. It wasn't the shapeshifter, but it was something to slay. One less demon running around. She was shoving her spare stake into her bag, on her way out of the cemetery and on her way to Tara's when she ran into a snarling, slobbering brown demon.

He jumped on her from atop a nearby mausoleum, dropping her to the ground. She still had a stake in her hand, and quickly brought it up to stab him with it, but this demon was no fledgling. And he was strong.

He pushed her hand away from his chest as if she were a fly, but to her it felt as if her hand had run into a brick wall at fifty miles an hour. She didn't think it was broken, but she was in a world of hurt at the moment. She scooted away from him using her good arm, as he advanced on her. When he reached down to pick her up, she swung her bag at him. It hit him on the side of the face, and he howled in pain. She didn't think she'd hit him that hard. A second later, she realized that she hadn't.

The demon turned around, and she saw her stake sticking out of its back. He reached behind him, trying futilely to grab it, and fell flat on his face. Willow breathed a sigh of relief, and stood up, ignoring Spike's proffered hand. She picked up her bag, slung it carefully over her shoulder, and cradled her hand against her chest.

He stood there, his eyes chastising her, his arms folded across his chest, and a half smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. "You all right then? Nothing broken?"

She nodded, putting her injured wrist behind her back. "I'm good."

"Good," he told her, tossing his cigarette to the side and grabbing her by her upper arms. "Mind telling me what the hell you're doing out here alone? Stutter Girl's not even with you?"

She sighed and turned around, leaving him there.

"Willow," he called after her. When she didn't stop or turn, he went after her, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around. "Would you stop?" he asked in exasperation.

"No," she told him, walking around him. He stepped easily back in front of her, and took her bag from her.

"Willow, listen--" he began, sounding excited. He'd gotten to kill something, yay for him.

"No," she said tiredly, taking her bag back from his unresisting hand, "you listen. We're not friends anymore. Okay? I'm not a piece of meat that you can snack on whenever you feel like it. So leave me alone."

She didn't know exactly what had happened that night, but she knew it wasn't the way he'd told her. Since she had never forced William to feed off of her, and since the bite had happened during sex, she was pretty sure he was lying about her having a nightmare and pulling him down to her. In all likelihood she might have pulled him down to her thinking he was William, but he shouldn't have allowed it. He'd taken advantage of her while she slept, she hadn't been fully awake and therefore was unable to stop him. Would she have stopped him? From snacking on her? Most likely. Other things that might have led to them being in bed together, probably not. As she'd told William, she wanted him, and she couldn't hide that.

"We're not friends?" he asked in puzzlement. "What happened?" He brushed the hair off her neck, and she saw his jaw tighten.

Not in the mood for whatever game he was playing, she once again stepped around him, and he once again moved in front of her. She sighed heavily, and dropped her bag to the ground, glaring up at the too-handsome-for-his-own-good vampire. She finally lost her patience and snapped at him. "What? What is so all-fire important that you have to tell me?"

He grabbed her wrist, intending to pull her closer to him, but dropped it when she yelped. He looked down at her swollen arm with a frown. "Is it broken?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "I don't know, that's why I was on my way to the hospital."

Grabbing her bag, he took her other arm, heading in the general direction of the hospital. "Sorry, didn't realize. We can talk on the way. Guess what?"

She rolled her eyes again at his almost childlike tone, but didn't protest anymore. "I don't know. You found out you can kill humans again?" she asked snidely.

He tossed a dirty look at her, but didn't break their stride. "Not quite, love. Go on, guess." His eyes were dancing with merriment, and she had a hard time not smiling at the sheer glee on his face.

She was supposed to be angry here. Angry at the vampire helping her to the hospital. The vampire that had just saved her life. Biting her lip, she shrugged, wincing at the pain it caused her wrist. "I don't know, Spike, why don't you tell me?"

They were at the emergency room entrance now, and just before they went inside, he stopped, spun around to face her, and kissed her hard. "It's me, love. Spike."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out from the clothes, the duster, the cigarette, and, oh, what else? The bleach blonde hair? The accent kind of gave it away too."

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, and leaned forward with a wink, whispering, "Your Spike, Red. Not the pansy from this time. He's probably hanging around the slayer's grave or something, crying like a baby."

Willow's eyes went wide, and she backed away from-- whoever it was in front of her. She had too damn many Spikes in her life. Was this the demon? Or William? Or her Spike pretending to be William?

"Whoever you are... leave me alone." She turned and ran through the automatic doors, nearly knocking a doctor over.



Willow spent the next two hours getting x-rayed, having a cast wrapped around her arm, and finally, at two am, she was allowed to leave. She sighed in relief when she finally walked out the doors into the dark parking lot.

Life in Sunnydale was never dull.

She stood in the parking lot, suddenly feeling pretty depressed. She couldn't even defend herself anymore. How was she supposed to kill the demon that had killed her friends if she couldn't even hold a stake?

Something wet ran down her cheek, and Willow wiped at it impatiently. A moment later it happened again, and she realized what it was.

Tears? Now was when she finally let herself cry? The spell had been broken for a few days now, and since then she'd had no emotional pain. No tears. No grief. But now, she could feel all of the grief she'd bottled up and shoved into a corner flooding through her, and she was overwhelmed. She sank down onto her knees, sobbing.

She cried for her friends. She cried because she'd lost Spike. And she cried because she was alone.

"Willow?"

Willow looked up tearfully. Spike was standing there, looking worried, but keeping his distance. She sniffed and sat down on the ground, ignoring the pebbles poking her. "What?" she asked grumpily.

He chuckled and held his hand out to her. "Come on, love, I'll take you home."

She stared at his hand for a second, before taking it. She didn't let go once she was on her feet. "I'm not going home, I'm going to Tara's." Suddenly she gasped, and not because his hand tightened painfully on hers, even though it did. "Oh, no. I forgot to call Tara and let her know I wasn't coming. And that I'm all right." She closed her eyes in self deprecation. "She's probably worried out of her mind."

"Let her," Spike told her, uncaring.

"Spike, don't start with me. I already told you-- wait a minute." She dropped his hand and backed away. "How do I know you're you?"

"Ask me a question?" he suggested.

She thought quickly while keeping an eye on him. "Okay. Um, what did we argue about the last time I saw you?" That ought to cover both Spikes and the demon.

Spike grinned lazily. "You told me to leave you alone." He pointed to the emergency entrance.

"Cute. I meant before that." She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but ended up hitting her breast with the cast. "Ow."

"You should try magick on that," he told her.

"I'm fine," she said, holding back her smile. Her Spike wouldn't have told her to use magick. Not in a million years. So, one down, two to go.

He sighed heavily, looking up at the sky as he tried to remember. "Oh, yeah. That's an easy one. Stutter Girl."

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist, and leaning against him, resting her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes, never wanting to let go. "It's really you. And don't call her that."

Spike chuckled, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and caressing her back. She sighed, enjoying the feeling of just being held.

The fact that it was Spike had nothing to do with it. Nothing whatsoever.

She sighed again, feeling safe and loved, even if only for a few minutes. Tara was once again forgotten.



Spike watched the couple in the parking lot from across the street. Willow looked very much like she belonged in William's arms, like she was born to be held by him. Spike was actually jealous. Of himself, no less. He shook his head at his own thoughts.

He moved quietly across the street, heading straight for them. William saw him and grinned arrogantly, then leaned down and whispered in Willow's ear.

"We have company, love."

Willow stiffened, then pulled away, turning to face him. Her eyes widened, narrowed, then went blank. Panic, anger and then nothing. He'd rather see panic and anger than nothing.

"Spike," she said softly. "Or are you the demon?"

"Not *the* demon. Just *a* demon." He stood directly in front of them now, glaring pointedly at their clasped hands.

"What was the last thing we argued about?" she asked him.

He tossed a glance at William, who was watching them carefully. "Him."

"More specific please?" She waited patiently.

He shrugged. "Me biting you."

She nodded curtly. "You're you."

"He bit you?" William asked incredulously. "Why in bloody hell did you let him bite you?"

Spike ignored him, fixing his eyes on Willow. "What happened to your arm?" Concern laced his words no matter how much he tried to keep it out.

Willow looked from one Spike to the other, looking very weirded out. "A demon broke it."

William smirked at Spike, pulling Willow closer to his side. "I saved her."

"Well good for you," Spike enthused. "You've just taken your first step into Pansyville."

He saw Willow biting her lip to keep her laughter at bay, and was encouraged. Maybe he hadn't lost her completely after all.

William, on the other hand, took a step closer to Spike. "You know, if I didn't have anything to live for," he tossed an almost unnoticed look at Willow, "I'd kill myself just to get rid of you. Mate."

Willow pulled her hand free of William's and picked up her bag. "I'm going home. To Tara's. But, hey, don't let me stop the two of you. Why don't you just beat the crap out of each other, that sounds like fun, huh?" She took off down the street, leaving the two Spikes staring after her.

Spike took one step after her before turning around and stalking off in the opposite direction. He knew without a doubt that William was going after her.

And it didn't bother him. He kicked a parked car as he crossed the street, causing it's alarm to start blaring.

Didn't bother him at all.