He's not coming.

Buffy paused at the edge of the pond, the words nagging at her mind. Shifting anxiously, she tugged at the hem of her swimming suit. Bits of dried blood flaked off her fingers onto the sleek, black material. She disregarded them and walked into the water, shivering at the coolness. Mud squished pleasantly between her toes. Sinking down to submerge herself to shoulder-level, she released a long, jagged breath and let the water work at relaxing her knotted muscles. Determined to put all things Slayer-related out of her head, she found herself left with one persisting thought.

He's not coming.

Not like that was a big surprise. He'd done nothing but avoid her since waking up. In the two days they'd been at the farm, she could remember him speaking to her exactly twice, and both times fell after ghost witch visits. That's what it takes to make him talk to me? An idea was growing inside her, creating a solid, cold dread as it gained shape. Maybe Giles was right. Maybe Spike is too far gone to…care. Shutting her eyes, she smothered the fear, evoking the edges of her calm and holding to them tightly. This was a time to relax and recoup, to regain her equilibrium. Worry and fear had been her constant companions for far too long; she wanted to be at peace here in the home of her childhood. She wanted to rest. Even so, Giles' words stayed with her. But Buffy, there's nothing guaranteeing Spike's soul will make him into the man you want.

But he does care. He does. Her shoulders tingled as she remembered the pressure of his hands on them. He was so worried when he thought I was bleeding. That's some big caring right there. Some big… Spike. It was Spike again. More or less. Okay, emphasis on the less but still… Spike. Relief lightened her, made her feel young. It doesn't matter if he's never the Spike he was. There was tons of room for improvement. Just as long as he's not crazy, and not dusty, and not… hating me. As long as we can be… friends. Friends would be good. He doesn't need to love me like he did before. No matter how much of a happy that would be. Groaning, she made herself skip back a thought or two. Concentrate on the 'Spike's okay' part. There's time for the rest later.

"It's that simple," she said to the stars. "Make him okay now, worry about the rest later." He cares. He was so worried. His eyes… they got so tender… Holding the image of him in her mind, she focused on it and relaxed into the pleasure it brought her.

Floating on her back, she let her eyes fall closed, let the water take her where it would. Deep inside, a peace began to grow. His eyes. And his hands. The way they shook, so hard, but held me. They held me.

She cupped hands around the full warmth of her breasts, moved them down to stroke her firm belly, to hold the slender strength of her hips, and she smiled, relieved. She could feel her body again, as she hadn't been able to since that night. Parts of her that had died alongside her friends were coming back to life. As worried as she was about Spike and as scared and confused as Willow's reappearance made her, she felt awake in a way she hadn't for far too long. I almost can't believe it but I feel like me again. What do you know? There's life in them there hills, Buffy giggled at herself. She kicked one foot out of the water. Water dribbled back over her, splashing in droplets. Through the beads of water she saw Spike standing at the pond's edge.

She sank under the water, trusting it to conceal her nakedness. "Hey! Come on in, the water's nice!"

Slowly, Spike yanked his shirt over his head. Buffy flicked her eyes away from the sight of his thinness but she couldn't miss the way his creamy skin seemed to glow in the moonlight. As his hands went to the button of his jeans, she faced away entirely. It's not that I wanta look. Or that I shouldn't. I mean, been there, seen that. But if I make him run away now, when he's finally coming to me… how many chances does one person get? How many new starts can Spike and I possibly make? This must be the last. I can't screw up.

She heard him enter the water. Tiny waves came off his body and lapped at her shoulders as he swam to her. Treading water, she turned and smiled. "Warm in here, huh? The sun was hot today. I thought I'd die of heat stroke by noon."

"I know," he said, and she tilted her head, giving him a wide-eyed look of curiosity. He moved backwards a few feet, his mouth twisting with an emotion she couldn't place. Not good though. There's more than one thing he doesn't want me to know. He back-peddled with little finesse. "Not know in the sense of… I mean, I was asleep… wasn't watching you. At all."

"Spike. It's okay, whatever you were doing. It sounded funny, that's all." She floated closer to him, erasing the distance he'd created between their bodies. "You look better. Less…. I mean, more… more… something. Better."

"I am. Stronger. It helped…" His eyes seemed stuck to her mouth. She sucked in her lower lip, then let it slid out from inside her mouth slowly.

I'm not teasing him. It's a test, that's all. Just a test. "What helped?" She traced the curve of her lip with the tip of her tongue. Watching him stare at her made things tense inside her; she blushed as she found her fingers spread wide on her stomach and moving upwards, as if they were his. Oh, oh no. This is… what am I doing? Okay, Buffy, time to be smart. We've got a sick vampire to heal, not to mention a ghost to deal with, and if you keep up with the uber-slut routine, you're gonna chase him away and get yourself all distracted which never leads to good.

Pulling her hands off her body, she brought them up out of the water. She caressed the surface, making small waves, trying to distract herself from the need that grew in her. Doesn't matter if I want him. Doesn't matter if kissing him and touching him would get around all the conversations we need to have before we can be okay with each other. Doesn't matter, 'cause that wouldn't be fair. I could grab him, hold him, so easily. It would be so simple to rub up against all that wet, white skin and let everything else slip away… but, nope. We so can't do that. Not if we want to do things right this time. Not if we want to…

Her fingers clenched as she realized she didn't have a clue what he wanted. Hence the conversation-having we need to… have. She took a deep breath and relaxed her hands. What was I saying to him? "Oh! The farm? It's kind of a healing sort of place. That's… that's why I brought you here. Healing." Healing. Not… anything else. Especially nothing in the horizontal direction. She smiled, trying to tell him things were fine, normal. Nope, I'm not lusting. I'm not. Really.

Arching one eyebrow in bewilderment, Spike said, "It was the blood. Hunger slows down every bit of a body. Muscles stop moving, brain stops functioning… but I can think now. Better'n before, at least." Flicking his fingers to spray Buffy with water, he kept a safe distance between them but something about him had changed and she could see it. He's splashing me. He's sharing things with me. He…

"You don't hate me anymore." Crap! I didn't mean to say that! Clapping a hand over her mouth, she shook her head. "No, no, sorry. We don't have to talk about that. I didn't mean to…. It just came out."

He cocked his head to the side. His eyes on her face were unrelenting. She let her hand fall from her mouth but couldn't stop the flush from growing on her cheeks. Ignoring the apprehension that made her heart feel fluttery, she swam a pace towards him. In response he swam backwards, effectively maintaining the gap that separated them as if he didn't know his eyes crossed it even as the rest of his body held back. The way he's watching me… like he's starving… She shivered but stopped, letting him have his space. A beat passed, then another, long and… and hot. All I can feel from him is heat.

"I don't hate you." His shoulders loosened up a fraction. "Mind, I've not forgiven you for breaking into the Sanctuary but my brain's working a bit better now and it's true I'm not unhappy to be… myself again."

The relief she felt was so strong, it sent her reeling. She let herself sink beneath the water and opened her eyes, taking in the blurry underwater world until her lungs began to twinge. Surfacing hard, she flung back her head. Water flew from her hair and she laughed out loud. It can't be all bad. He doesn't hate me. He's not back all the way… I mean that's a big obvious- look at him, he's skin and bone, but he doesn't hate me and I can help him now. I can…

Laughing again, she saw he was moving towards her through the water, the expression on his face…. Rapt, she thought. Captured. But not in a black-magickey kind of way. Because we don't do that, Spike and I. We're… we're the good guys. He and I both, together.

Their eyes met and held. Muscles low in her belly began to tighten and tingle. She knew now that it was she who'd been captured, captivated by the need so evident in him, the need for her, even after all they'd put each other through. The power of her own need made her tremble. She held her hands out to him, palms up, just under the water's surface.

He stopped at her fingertips and studied the way her palms seemed to hold the surface of the pond in silvery puddles on their centers. With a single finger, he traced a path across one. His lips turned up in an odd smile. Shuddering at the contact, Buffy saw he was tracing her life line. Over and over, he followed it, back and forth from the start symbolizing her birth to the end predicting her death. Back and forth, he seemed to immortalize her.

His eyes were shimmering surfaces of reflected moonlight. Buffy almost didn't dare to meet them but when she did, she found herself staggered by the emotions that churned so quickly there. He's afraid of me.

Her hands jerked away from him and she shut her eyes tightly, afraid to see his reaction. "It's no good, is it."

"No."

The silence that fell between them weighed on her. She felt her limbs grow wooden, her blood thicken, and when she opened her eyes, they were heavy, encumbered with her own reluctance. It's time. No more hiding. "We should talk."

"You sounded much more eager before, when I was sleeping in the car. I heard you."

"That was… before." Before I knew you would survive. Before I knew you didn't hate me. Before I realized that I have a future, and that you could be a part of it.

"Where would you like me to start?" His voice was filled with so much sadness, so much weariness, but he pulled up the edges up his mouth in a pseudo-smile. "With the Sanctuary?"

"No." I don't want to know this. I don't. But I have to. "Before. When we were watching Willow… when she was on fire… how did you know what she'd do?"

"Wasn't hard. The witch was on fire but she still had her feet under her. You and Giles were only a few steps away. When he set her on fire, he gave her a weapon. Simple as that. You'd have figured it out yourself, if you hadn't been in shock and…" His hand went to his neck of its own accord, to the place where, on Buffy, the scars of his fangs marred the skin.

Quickly, before he could apologize, Buffy said, "So, you knew she was going to…"

"It was all she had left. I could see it in her eyes. She would have thrown herself on top of the two of you and clung on tight until you both were burned beyond…" Clearing his throat, he continued. "She was going for the pain more than the kill."

A throbbing sensation radiated up Buffy's arms. She looked down at her hands, at the grooves on her palm where her fingernails had bitten into the skin. This is hard times a million. This is miserable. This is necessary. Get through it. "You tackled her. That had to hurt."

"Didn't think, just did it." He cuffed the surface of the water with his palm, sending ripples out away from them. "Couldn't let her hurt you."

"I… I know." God, I know. I remember. Looking up at Willow, I was so weak, which was so very, very weird, but he was there, he was holding her, holding onto the fire and burning. "It hurt you, didn't it?"

With a crooked smile, Spike said, "Not as much then as it did later."

"The… the starving? That must've been… bad."

"Bad? Yes, Slayer, starving for a year was… bad. That's not all though. Not all by a long shot." He cast his eyes upwards as if looking for something.

Answers. He's looking for something to tell me. Whatever it is he's wanting to avoid, it's bad. "Tell me. Don't hold back. I… I need to know."

He would not meet her eyes. The words tumbled out of him towards the night sky, choked and wet and soaked with regret. "The Sanctuary spell created a bubble of water around my crypt. When I went through… you remember this part? You were watching?"

Bowing her head, Buffy remembered. Not that night- she seldom let herself remember the way it had felt, kneeling beside Giles, watching her lover and her best friend burn. Instead, she remembered what she'd told Dawn many months later, in a rare moment of confidence.

He tackled Willow before I even realized he'd moved. Suddenly, he was there, holding her. She was screaming. Giles' arms were around my waist, keeping me upright, but it was Spike's words that kept me conscious. I didn't know what he planned to do, I really didn't, but he was edging towards the Sanctuary and he was speaking to me. "Promise me, Buffy. Slayer. You're strong and you listen now, and you promise me. Promise me two things. You stay alive. Hear me?" I gaped at him, barely comprehending, barely even conscious, but it wasn't over, it wasn't time to fall apart yet. "I hear you," I told him. He smiled then. I couldn't believe it, Dawnie. He was holding Willow, they were both burning, and there he was grinning at me. I felt Giles shuddering under my hands and knew he was reacting to the weirdness too.

Then Spike said, "Promise me you'll leave me in here. If you ever cared about me even a drop, ever felt even a bit sorry for what happened between us… promise me, Buffy. Let me have this." And I couldn't believe it! I couldn't. He was going to… but how could I deny him again? Not again, not one more time. I just couldn't do it. I found my head nodding, heard myself saying, "'Yes, I will, I promise. For you. Because…" But he cut me off before I could tell him the 'because'. He told me to shut up. He told me to hold onto it, to keep it inside and remember it. Then he paused. A long pause. Eerie, too. There was a deep attentiveness to him, to the way he looked at me. He was taking my photograph with his eyes. It… it's bizarre, I know, but I hoped my hair was smoothed down. You don't have to glare at me, Dawn. I was all shocky and bleeding. I wasn't thinking. Anyway… there was a split second when I took my attention off him to check my hair. When I looked back, he and Willow were gone and the Sanctuary was closed.

Pulling herself out of her memory, she said, "No, I didn't see. I wasn't myself. All I knew was that you were talking to me, then you were gone. There was this big rush of water. The Sanctuary, it sorta popped like a bubble when you guys went through."

Spike's face was soft. He knows what I was remember. He always could read me that way. He brushed his fingers through his hair. Droplets ran down his forehead; he blinked them out of his eyes. "I figured that. When we got into the crypt, we were both soaking wet. It put out the fire, saved me from being dust." He hesitated, licking his lips nervously. "It put out Willow, too."

Her forehead creased with uncertainty. "Spike. What are you trying to say?"

"Willow… lived. Sort of. The burns healed."

Her body stiffened. "No. She died. Giles lit her on fire and she died."

"No, Buffy," Spike said.

Coldness washed over her, making her teeth chatter. Hugging herself, she tried to put the pieces of fragmented memories together. This doesn't make sense. She can't be alive. "She's dead. You told me so yourself. You told me Willow is dead!"

"I did say that, and I meant it. She's dead, but…" He reached his hand out to her, his face sober. A muscle quivered at his jaw. She took it, clung to it, and urged him with her eyes to continue.

Letting her keep his hand, he said, "Let me start at the beginning."

"When would that be?"

"When you last saw us. The Sanctuary closed behind us and we were trapped inside together. It took a few days for Willow's burns to heal. I… tried to tend to her, as best I could."

"Sounds… cozy," Buffy said, narrowing her eyes. This is wrong. A mistake. It couldn't have happened this way. He'll tell me it's a lie, I know he will. "So what, you bonded?'

At that, he laughed, humorlessly. "Not even close. She hated me from the get-go."

"She didn't seem too big with the hatred when she cast the Sanctuary spell. It sounded like she was trying to help you."

He squeezed her hand. "T'wasn't for me, that spell. Not really. It was… well, pet, it was an act against you. Another one. She wanted to hurt you, to hit you below the belt."

Xander. Tara. Giles' guilt. Dawn's suffering. And my own. A year of watching the crypt door. A year of wondering, of hurting and fearing and longing… "Well, then she succeeded." She looked down at the black water, at Spike's hand wrapped around hers, two white shapes entwined, suspended beneath the surface. A year spent dead inside. And all the while Willow was… where was she? "What happened to her? I… I saw her… I saw the ashes. In the sarcophagus. You said she started to heal but… then what? What killed her?"

He pulled his hand back and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know how to tell you this. It's… Buffy, I swear I would have stopped her if I could have."

Calm him down. Calm him down and get him to talk. Her stomach twisted with anxiety but she made herself go to him. Taking both his hands in hers, she said, "It's okay. You did all you could, I'm sure of that. Whatever happened… it wasn't your fault."

He snorted. "No, it wasn't. It wasn't my fault at all. Except that I was the one with the jigger of whiskey and the nerve to toss it on her."

"If you hadn't done that, Giles would have died. We all would have. And you're not alone with the blaming. There's plenty to pass around. If you'd been around the last year, you'd see how crazy we've all been. Dawn's practically Stepford kid, she wants to be normal so badly. I've been… I might as well not have been there, I was so…. so empty. And Giles… he puts on a big, Gilesy front but he's as bad off as Dawn and I are. Worse then us, really. He drinks when we're asleep. I find empty bottles every morning. We never train. I still patrol but the Hellmouth's been quiet. Weirdly quiet."

"Sort of like all the badness has gone to ground? Like it's hibernating?"

"Yeah, that's how it feels." He already knew I was going to tell him that. Something's going on and I am way far from knowing what he's getting at. "How did you know? You've been busy being trapped-guy."

"I wasn't trapped. Not really. Not the whole year."

He spoke casually, as if it didn't matter, as if she hadn't been torturing herself over his confinement- or as if he didn't care that she had been. This can't be all. He's going somewhere with this. I don't have the whole picture yet. "But we thought… the Sanctuary, I mean it held, Giles checked…"

"The tunnels. I could've left through them."

Could have? So, he didn't? "We thought they were sealed in with the spell. We… we should have checked. We could have come, could have helped you… but we assumed…"

"You know what they say about assuming, pet." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I didn't want you to come. As I recall, you promised you wouldn't. Didn't want to leave. Couldn't at first, but then later… I never even tried."

She stared at him, confusion and dread making her heart pound. This is going to be bad. Badness cometh and I don't want to know, I don't want to ask him, but hello, Slayer here. I have to. "Then how do you know they weren't sealed up?"

His expression was grim as he watched her. "Buffy… the tunnels couldn't have been sealed. Willow escaped through them."

Surprise took her balance. Stumbling in place, she said, "You mean… Willow's out there? Free? Walking around Sunnydale?"

"Not exactly, no. But- wait." Spike frowned and looked straight down into the water at his waist. Glancing back up at Buffy, he asked, "Did you feel something? Something sort of… slick?"

"Huh?" He better not be trying to get out of telling me the rest because if so, he's picked a really lame way to go about it. "No, I don't feel anything. What are you- oh!"

Something wrapped around her leg. She froze as its thick length squeezed her calf. "Feeling something," she muttered, tightening her grip on his hands. "And it is so not a vine."

"A snake?"

"If so, it's the biggest one I've ever seen around here." She gulped as it looped around her other leg. "And it's getting frisky."

Spike recoiled. "It's back to me again."

"And it's still got my legs too." She shifted her weight, trying to figure out how best to go about grabbing it. "Wait… it's letting me go."

"Not me," Spike said. He sucked in a deep breath. "Bugger's got me around the hips. It's… bloody fuck!"

"What? Is it hurting you?" Buffy asked, then yelped and jumped back as Spike's hands were torn from hers. He was pulled under water so quickly, she was left blinking in astonishment, too stunned for a moment to move. The water churned where Spike had stood. She saw a flash of something just below the surface. Scales. On a snake as big around as a log. Her Slayer instincts subdued her fear. Taking a gulp of air, she held her breath and dove.

The water was dark and muddy but Spike's white hair stood out like a beacon. She grabbed him by the shoulders and felt her way down his body to where the snake was wound several times around his waist. Feeling each loop, she searched for the head, then gave up. She wedged her fingers between the snake and Spike and pulled outward, trying to tear the creature loose. Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen. Spike can't drown, but I can.

Need outweighed want. She kicked her way to the surface, dragging Spike- and the snake- with her. As soon as his head was above water, Spike pushed at her arms, urge her away from him. "Get yourself out of here. This isn't a normal snake. Not even sure I'd call it a snake at all."

"Demon?" Buffy gasped as she held on tightly to the upper loop of the snake's body, keeping it from dragging Spike back under.

"I saw its eyes. It… demon, yeah. The same one from before." Spike sucked in his stomach, helping her push her hands deeper between his hip and the snake. "Spoke to me in Willow's voice. I heard it, clear as day."

"Not now," Buffy said. She braced her bare feet on Spike's knees for leverage and put all her strength into tugging the snake off him. Its muscles contracted; she could feel it constricting him. With a gurgling moan, Spike was pulled back under.

Buffy let herself be taken under with him, holding on with all she had. She searched for the snake's head, wanting to see what Spike had seen, but couldn't find it. All she could make out was the whiteness of Spike's hair and skin, the bright flash of his eyes, and her own hands on the rough scales. I have to get him free. We have to get out of here.

"It won't matter, Buffy."

Willow's voice. How can it be so clear, underwater? How can it be so… Willow, coming from the snake? Forgetting where she was, she opened her mouth to respond but only ended up swallowing a stomach-turning amount of water. Closing her eyes, she ignored the nausea, ignored the pain in her lungs, and focused her thoughts on communicating with… whatever it was. I know it's not you, Willow. Let go of Spike and tell me what you want from us.

"What I want? This. This is what I want." Willow's laugh rang out and Buffy flinched. "Your panic. Your pain. Poor little Buffy, so afraid. You think I'll squeeze and squeeze your vampire till he falls apart and turns to dust?"

Spike's arms flailed as the demon constricted firmly, forcing Buffy's hands off of it. Bubbles rose from his mouth and nose. She knew he had yelped in pain. Let him go! You don't want to dust him, believe me.

"You're right about that. He's a vampire; they are my children. I wish him no harm but you, little Slayer, little child of Horus… your pain is my pleasure."

Surprised, she wavered for a moment. Well, I kinda meant that you should leave him alone if you want to live, but hey, that works too. Tucking her hands beneath Spike's arms, she pulled them all back up to the surface.

"Let him go!" she shouted, spitting out a mouthful of water. "Let him go, or so help me…"

"Buffy!" A voice on shore called to her. Dan, she thought, and duel feelings of relief and worry blurred her vision. "Dan! Run!"

Dan chuckled nonchalantly. The sound reverberated over the pond. "Run? Don't be silly. Run from what?"

"Buffy," Spike said, calling her attention to him. He pointed down. "It's gone."

"It's gone?" Gagging on the gritty-tasting water, she scanned the length of the shoreline, focused all her Slayer senses on the murky depths. Vanished. How could it just disappear? "What the hell was that?"

He held her against him. "The ghost. Or demon. Whatever. It's the same thing."

She wrapped her fingers around Spike's chin and made him look at her. "That wasn't Willow. It had her voice, her memories, but it wasn't… it wasn't Willow."

Sadly, he said, "Pet, I know."

*****

He was taking care of her. Buffy hadn't expected him to but she was too heartsick to protest. While Old Dan turned his back discretely, he'd helped her out of the water, keeping his hands in chaste areas of her body as he led her to her clothes. She made it as far as the farmhouse porch before violent retching brought her to her knees in the dirt of her grandmother's herb garden. I will always think of the scent of rosemary and sage when I remember learning that my best friend… lived? No, not lived. Willow did not live. That was not her. Was not.

It was ten minutes before she could stand again. Spike wiped her mouth with the corner of his wet tee-shirt, his fingers cold against her flushed cheeks. He took her arm and she allowed him to support her up the steps. Inside, he'd built a fire in the wide, stone hearth. She sank beside it and drew her knees up to her chest, curling into as tight a ball as she could. Staring into the flames brought back too many memories so she studied the speckled river stone instead, finding some calm in the muted greens and grays, in the flecks and stripes that typified them. Focus on anything but fire. Anything but snakes. Anything but blood. How am I going to tell Giles about this? How am I even going to think about this?

She didn't hear Spike approach until she felt the warmth of a blanket as he wrapped it around her shoulders. He sat on the opposite side of the fireplace, another blanket over his bare chest. Bruises peeked out from under the edges; she knew he must be in pain and the worry brought her out of her stupor. "You're hurt?"

He raised the blanket to cover the marks. "Couple of ribs cracked. Nothing too bad. I sent Dan home."

"He must think I've lost it." She rested her head on her knees. "Yelling about a snake he couldn't see… did he say anything?"

"Not much. The, uh, nakedness wigged him more than the snake part. Forgot to pull my pants on, what with wanting to get you inside. Fellow didn't say anything but he seemed to be deciding between taking you home with him or knocking me unconscious."

"But you got him to leave."

"Just." He cleared his throat. "You ready to hear the rest?"

She raised her head, searching within her for the courage to go into Slayer mode. It's rusty. Haven't done any Slayage for… not long enough. What to deal with first, that's the question. The giant snake-wind storm-pencil stealing ghosty thing? Or the fact that Willow didn't die. Not all the way. Or… I don't know!

Pulling herself together, she stretched out her legs, thinking quickly. "First thing first. Let's back up to the stuff we were talking about before the… before the attack. Willow didn't die? How is that even possible? I saw her, we all did… she was burning…"

"She did burn. Then she healed herself. The fire didn't take away her power, it couldn't; she was the power. Only took a few days for the burns to disappear. I tried to tend to her, as I told you, but she wouldn't let me. Clem helped her till-"

"Clem!"

"He was staying in my crypt while I was away, remember? The Sanctuary spell locked him in."

"But he wasn't there when I…" She chewed her lip, her eyes distant. "Oh. The ashes in the sarcophagus."

Spike nodded, his eyes growing dark. "As soon as the witch was healed, she killed him. I tried to stop her, 'course I did, but she slammed me with energy. Magic. It threw me into a wall. Broke my bloody backbone, she did. I couldn't move."

Broken back. So he was trapped. "And then Willow left through the tunnels."

"It wasn't really Willow. I mean, yeah, she was there too… but something had possessed her."

"Something? Like what?"

He closed his eyes and spoke reluctantly. "I only saw its true face once and I was lying on the ground at the time, in a lot of pain as you can imagine, so I can't be too clear, but it… whatever it was, pet, it was not human. Not even close. It was old, it was ugly, and it was beyond powerful. Killed Clem with barely a look."

This just gets better and better. "It didn't kill you."

"No. Don't know what it meant, back at the pond, about being the father of vampires- it didn't say a word about that then. Not much time for chit-chat in any case. It was all fired up to go and do something…. It didn't say what, just kept on about needing its strength back first. Then it…" He pressed his hands together, shaking his head. "Thought I'd imagined it for the longest time, but after what happened in the pond, I know… it was true. The demon or whatever, it turned into a snake and slithered down to the tunnels."

"You think this demon, or whatever it is, rested up as a snake for a year? And now it's back with ghost Willow in tow?"

"Not really in tow. They're one and the same now. Willow is dead, as you've always thought. No one could survive melding with that demon and believe me when I say no one. Not even a witch as capable as Willow. That… that thing, whatever it is, it has her memories, maybe even her motivations, but if Red's in there too, she's not alive." Spike shrugged. "I know how that sounds. You think I've lost my crackers, don't you."

Crazy. Yes, that's it. We've both gone insane. Isn't it okay, to think that? Isn't it okay to think we're hallucinating and Willow is in heaven? She always hated snakes. She'd never pick this, no matter how pissed and high on magicks she was. Never. See, so, it can't be her. We're both looney, gone 'round the bend… Reigning in her fantasies, she lifted her chin doggedly. "No. That's pretty nuts but still, not the weirdest thing to ever take place on the Hellmouth." She touched his knee in fleeting gesture of reassurance. "If it's not Willow- and, okay, pretty sure the big snake wasn't Willow- then what does it want from me?"

"It could be playing with you. It does have Willow's memories, it would know how much pain she could cause you. Some demons get their kicks that way."

Great. That's all I need. And god, poor Willow. "How did this happen? How did it get her?"

"Don't know. Depends on what it is, depends on when it came to her. There are demons that are called by the combination of rage and power. They would have found Red right intoxicating after Tara died. Its hard to say without knowing what manner of demon it is."

Demon ID'ing. This I can do. "You said you saw its true face. You didn't recognize it?"

"Nothing I'd ever seen before."

She stood, patting her pockets for her cell phone. Finding it, she flipped it open and pushed the power button. "We need Giles. You can describe it to him, he can look it up… we'll deal with this. We'll figure it out." She stopped dialing as a horrible thought struck her mind. "Do you think it's hurting her? Hurting Willow?"

Spike tilted his face to look up at her. "Pet, I don't think there's any Willow left to hurt."

She sucked in her lower lip, considering. I don't know whether to hope she's in there or hope she's too far gone to know what's happening. I don't know, I just don't know…

Rising beside her, Spike moved a light hand over her hair. "Call your Watcher. I'll pack up the car."

He's okay. Everything's gone mad again, but he is okay. And here. And touching me. "Okay," she said in a throaty whisper, "but be careful. Father or not, that thing didn't seem to daddyish when it was trying to squeeze you to death."

"It's not my father," he said. "Now call yours."

*****

The car was loaded. He sat cross-legged on the hood, a flask in one hand, a cigarette in the other, waiting for Buffy to finish talking to Giles. Only a few more hours of night left, he thought, gauging the glow tinting the horizon. She'd better move if she wants help with the driving. Something told him she wouldn't need help. There was an energy to her now that he'd missed before. That old, familiar buzz that drew him in and made him utterly incapable of leaving her side. Ponce that I am. But she needs me now, she does. Nothing else figures into it.

"Spike!"

He jolted out of his thoughts to find Buffy running at full speed towards the car. The look on her face chilled him. She's terrified. Jumping up, he said, "Slayer? Is it back?"

"Worse," she panted as she flew by him. Yanking open the driver's side door, she slowed only long enough to tell him to get in. The engine grated as she turned the key too far in the ignition in her haste. "Much, much worse."

"Worse how?" he asked, closing the door only a second before she hit the gas pedal. He held onto the dash board to steady himself.

Her expression was thunderous as she maneuvered the car up the drive to Old Dan's cabin. In her fury, her words sputtered. "That… that thing is in Sunnydale. It's in my house. With my Watcher and my little sister."

Nibblet. The girl's afraid of snakes. Cold rage surged through him. "What did it do? Slayer? Did it hurt them?"

She shook her head, focusing on the road. Her knuckled were white on the steering wheel. "Not yet. Giles… he heard something in the basement while we were talking. It was flooded, he thought, and then he turned on the light and… it was flooded. With snakes. Small ones, but thousands of them. Then he heard Willow's voice, her laughter." A terse sob tore from her chest. "Spike, he thought it was her. He was so… thrilled doesn't even begin to cover it. Then she told him she still burned where he lit her up. I thought he was going to break in half, the sounds he made."

It's play with them. Torturing a tormented man. "We'll get there, pet. We'll help him. Why are you driving to Dan's place?"

She leaned over the wheel as if urging the car to move faster with the slight heft of her body. She's breaking too. "We need all the help we can get," she said, simple words made complex by the tone.

Modulating his voice to keep his disbelief muffled, he said, "You think that old man knows how to kill this thing?"

"He's gonna get Dawn out of town." Shoving back a wayward lock of hair, she said, "I want her out of the line of fire. She's already seen enough of it. Fire, that is. And blood and death… and now she's there alone with Giles and this monster, and where am I?" She pressed one hand against her stomach as if sick. "Not there. Not with her. Not with him. They're all alone and I'm…"

"On your way," Spike interrupted. He picked up her hand and placed it back on the steering wheel. "Drive."