A Run from the Devil in the Pale Moonlight

by Little Green Lawn Gnome

Willow helps Spike grow up. Slightly AU. Lots of cute fluff!

2. I've Been Afraid of Changing

A Run from the Devil in the Pale Moonlight

Part One: I've Been Afraid of Changing

One minute she is studying Gaelic, the next Willow is running to the bathroom hoping to reach the toilet before her breakfast comes up. Hand clamped over mouth, she bursts through the door thanking the goddess that whoever had been there last had left the toilet seat up. Within seconds of kneeling before the porcelain god, bits of cheerios start to come up.

"Sight of Slutty and Chubs finally get you sick?"

"Not now, Spike. Please, I feel awful."

Her green eyes bore deep into his blue as she begs for understanding and a break from the teasing. He shifts, uncomfortable under her gaze. He moves as much as he can shackled to the tub and reaches out to hold back her hair as the last bits in her stomach come up. Willow closes her eyes as he also starts to rub her back. The minuscule comfort is not unexpected but still much needed. Once finished, Spike grabs a tissue and hands it to her. She wipes her mouth off then lays herself down to the floor, pressing her fevered forehead to the cool tiles. She breathes slow and deep trying to concentrate on the blissful feeling one experiences after emptying her stomach of any sickening matter.

"Pet, you gonna be ok? Should I have Slutty run to get flu medicine?"

She turns her head to look up at a concerned face. She blinks and shakes her head then returns her forehead to the floor. Twice now; she's been sick two days this week. Twice too many for a person with a strong immune system.

"Red, do you need medicine?"

Concern is laced through his words.

"Do I look deathly ill?"

He raises an eyebrow. The subtle hint is not lost on him.

"No, Luv, just like you're sick with the flu."

"Then no medicine. I'll be fine in a few days. I'll take some R&R. I need to get back to my homework though. I'm sure you're hungry. I'll be back with some blood."

As she speaks, Willow raises herself to sit on her legs takes a deep sigh then raises completely, exiting before Spike can put in a protest.

"What you need, Pet, is someone to take care of you."

Settling back into a quasi-comfortable position, Spike waits for her to come back so he can convince her to take a few days to herself.

})i({

William walked into his father's study. A man with curly light brown hair looks up from where his face had been in his hands. Dark circles mar his countenance. Tears shine brightly in his eyes.

"Daddy?"

"Come 'ere, son."

The little boy of ten waddles to his father's side, where he is picked up and placed in the man's lap. One hand goes to comb through his son's hair; the other is placed securely around his son's waist. Father looks to son and is again taken aback by how much the young boy looks like his parents. The pronounced cheek bones, unruly brown hair, and the slim stature mirror his own. But the ethereal blue eyes are all his mother's. The little boy just looks up into his father's face to ask the one question that has been bugging him for a week.

"Is Mummy going to be ok?"

Every bit of vulnerability is in that question. Every fear William has ever had and will have is summed up in that question. Will he lose someone he loves?

"Your mummy is going to be fine. She's got a week 'eart, William. We just need to take good care of 'er from now on, and she'll be fine. Can you help me take care of 'er?"

William nods emphatically.

"Then why were you crying?"

His father sighs deeply, unsure as to how to proceed. He loves his son and needs to share this lesson with him but wonders if it is too soon. Can a ten year old handle what his father is about to tell him?

"I love your mother more than my life, William. She is in essence my soul. Men of my station usually marry women; they do not love them. I broke the mold. And I 'ope one day you will, too. It's a beautiful thing to love a woman to the point where you would give your life for 'er. It's also scary when you might lose 'er. I'm still scared I might lose your mother. So I cried because I am relieved she is still with us, but I also cried because I know one day I might lose 'er."

William nods trying to wrap his mind around what his father is saying, and then tears well in his eyes. He brushes them away trying not to let his father see.

"I love Mummy, too. I would be sad if she were gone, too."

Then the tears really start to fall. Big hiccupping sobs escape his lips. He buries his head in his father's chest. The man reaches his arms around his son and pulls him in tightly.

"I know son. Just remember it's ok to cry, and it's ok to love. Giving yourself over to love will not make you any less of a man, but love actually shows your true character. And my son, it is in your character to love this way."

The son nods under his father's chin. He does not quite understand his father's words now, but he will.

})i({

Sitting on Buffy's bed, Spike looks over at Willow. He meets her eyes then turns his face back to the floor. He looks up again then turns back to the floor. Willow glances at Spike's face then glances from the window to the door. From the door she glances back at Spike then to the window and back to the door.

"So you can't bite anymore?"

"Guess not, Pet. Your powers of observation astound me."

"Well, if you're going to be like that."

They go back to staring at everything but each other.

"How do you think it happened?"

"Damn pillocks in the white coats I suppose."

"Who?"

"The pillocks that hit me with a stun gun, dragged me off, then stuck me in an underground vault. They probably work for the slayer. Don't tell me you don't know anything about her pet project."

Willow scrunches up her face in disgust.

"I wonder if they're associated with the commando guys Buffy keeps running into." Spike raises one scarred eyebrow in interest.

"Maybe if you give her information, Buffy won't stake you. She might even give you blood if you're nice enough."

Again Spike raises his scarred eyebrow. Then the lights go out, and men in night vision goggles start streaming through the hallway.

})i({

Willow walks into the bathroom with an 'I'm over thirty hear me roar' mug with warm blood. Spike takes the proffered mug and opens his mouth.

"Thirty seconds on warm then forty seconds on high. I know."

Spike smiles as Willow answers his unspoken question.

"Perfect, Luv."

"It should be. I would think by now you would trust that I've gotten it down to an art."

Willow sits heavily on the now down toilet seat. Head in hands, she takes deep steadying breaths.

"Pet, you need more than a little R&R to get over the flu. You need a vacation; someone to take care of you. You just need to stop going so fast: school, slaying, research, magick. A doctor wouldn't hurt either."

Willow doesn't look up from her hands. Spike places a hand on her back trying to get her to respond.

"Have you ever wondered why you get 'a' cold, but you get 'the' flu? Is the flu so much worse than a cold that it deserves the definite article?"

"Red."

She looks up from her hands. Taken aback by how pale her face looks with a deep flush on her cheeks, he reaches out to place a hand on her forehead. Willow sighs when his cool hand comes in contact with her fevered skin comforted that at least something can take away the heat. "You've got a fever; you really should be in bed, Red."

"Oh, I'm alright. The nausea and the fever usually dissipate by the afternoon, but a nap would be nice."

"How long have you been feeling sick?"

"Just this week. This is only the second time I've thrown up though. Really, Spike, I'll be fine ok?"

Removing his hand from her forehead, he takes her hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

"I'm sure you will but tell the slayer so she can watch out for you. And doctors really do help."

With a nod of the head and a peeved look, Willow squeezes back and walks out of the bathroom once again leaving Spike with himself and his mind.

})i({

Willow, hand on forehead, other hand on stomach, walks back to her chair. She sits back down in front of her book but is unable to concentrate on any of the material. She really should just go back to the dorm and get a nap; leave Spike and the research to Giles so she could be up to par for her school work. Gaelic, however necessary for her continuing researching abilities, is not an easy language to learn. While deep in contemplation, Giles walks into the room with a book in hand.

"Willow, I think you should go back to the dorm."

"What?"

"Willow, I heard you being sick, and research or homework is not worth your poor health."

He gives her what he hopes to be a reassuring grin. She takes the hint and starts to pack up her things.

"I should be feeling better later on today so if I can I'll be back after my afternoon class."

"Don't worry about it too much, Willow. Things are pretty quiet right now."

"Famous last words. Bye!"

And with that Giles watches her walk out the door into the bright sunshine to go take a nap. He closes the door then goes back inside. He then retrieves a bag of blood to take to Spike. Giles opens the bathroom door then throws the bag inside.

"'ey, Ripper! Watch it! At least the witch is nice enough to warm it up!"

"I have neither the time nor the patience that girl has, nor come to think of it, the forgiving spirit. Be thankful you have at least her on your side."

"Ya, speaking of the witch, she already fed me!"

With a snarl, Spike throws the bag of blood back to Giles who adeptly catches it. He then furrows his brow.

"You think Willow is on my side?"

"I think we've all changed, or you wouldn't be asking me that question. Maybe you should think about that."

Just before Giles closes the door Spike adds the last word.

"Willow has three heart beats. Maybe *you* should think about *that*."

Giles stares for a moment as his words and the implication thereof sinks in. He starts to open his mouth, but Spike stops him by raising three fingers. Seeing there will be no further discussion, Spike humphs as Giles closes the door. Each of them really did have too much to think about lately.

})i({

Buffy, Xander, Anya, and Giles are in the kitchen cleaning up from last night's Thanksgiving meal. Willow in an attempt to get out of dish duty takes blood to Spike in the bathroom where he is chained to the tub.

"I don't see why they just can't lock you up. Chaining is so inhumane."

"Not a human, Witch. Still on the Thanksgiving-we-need-to-be-fair-to- everyone-who-tries-to-kill-us-kick?"

"Oh oops. You.you weren't sup.supposed to h.h.hear that."

Willow's customary flush starts to creep up her neck to face as she stutters a reply.

"Well, I did. Now stop standing there and give me my blood."

At his terse words, she gets over her embarrassment.

"You know, I do believe that. You shouldn't be locked in a bath tub."

"Don't care what you believe, you dumb chit. GIVE ME MY BLOOD!"

Pouring the mug all over his head and clothes, Willow gives him his blood.

"I believe people/vampires/demons/ anyone walking this earth can change when given extreme circumstances or even in normal circumstances. It is how the world works-it turns and returns; things change; beings grow. You will be a frightened child all of your existence."

She turns and walks out the door as Spike is reduced to trying to lick the blood off of his shirt and hands, grumbling the whole time about bloody witches and the first one to suffer when he got his bite back.

})i({

The coffin is lowed into the ground. William picks up the ceremonial first bit of dirt and throws it in. His mother follows. Then his three sisters. Four women he now has to take care of. He looks to the sky, perfect, blue, and sunny. Silently, he asks his father's help. He looks back at the mourners as they start to dissipate. He and his family stay. Right now they need to be together with their father and husband, the man that meant the world to them all. Now, the world is crumbling around them with only William to hold it up.

"He once told me it was in our natures to love this way: the complete all- consuming love one loses oneself in. Mother, I know he loves you more than life itself. To us, his children he is completely devoted. Together, we can make it through. Together, I will be strong for you."

Then the tears start, but not just his mother and sisters'. William too cries. He remembers that lesson well. He is allowed to cry. His father once told him so. William may not still completely understand the rest of his father's lessons, but he knows one day he will.

})i({

Willow returns to Giles's apartment later in the day refreshed from her nap and feeling better. Placing her books on the table, she calls out to anyone in the apartment trying to gauge the situation. No one responds.

"He must be out."

She grabs a glass of water from the kitchen then moves to the bathroom. Once through the door she finds Spike deep within himself. In a trance, he doesn't even notice her come in. In front of his face, she snaps once, twice, and on the third time he comes out of it.

"'lo, Red. Feeling better?"

"Much, thank you. It just seems like in the morning does my stomach wanna do the up-chuck thing."

"I still think you need to see a doctor, Pet. Or maybe a vacation. You're running yourself into the ground. You spend way too much time here being the slayer's lap dog and then trying to complete your homework. The doctor would tell you the same. You need to stop making your body do it all on its own. Rest and get medical attention."

"I like helping. Really Spike, it's ok. And no doctors. I've been in the hospital enough in my short life. But I've got news I think you're gonna like."

Spike cocks his head to the side waiting for her to continue choosing to ignore her obvious change of topic.

"I've almost got Giles and Buffy convinced that you can be out on your own; that you don't need to be vamp-sat anymore."

He sighs deeply. Willow misses his obvious disappointment.

"As much as I hate this bleeding tub, Luv, where else do I have to go really?"

"We could find you an apartment. Spike, you really need a change of scenery."

"Maybe. Get yourself better first before you start WWIII with Slutty."

She slaps him upside the head.

"Stop calling her that. And for the last time, I'm fine!"

"So says the girl that throws up in the morning. Doctors really aren't all that bad."

"What's the sudden urge to get me to see someone? Is there a doctor in town you know of that gives you bonuses for referrals?"

Spike growls.

"No."

"Then drop it. I know my body. I'll be fine."

She exits the bathroom, leaving the door ajar, to return to her Gaelic book.

Giles having just woken up from a nap walks into the bathroom.

"Don't tell her."

Spike sighs.

"I don't plan on it. That's why you need to get the daft chit to the doctor."

"I *don't* think it's a good idea to call your only friend a 'daft chit'."

"Whatever, Ripper."

"What are you intentions towards Willow?"

Confusion crosses Spike's face. Conversations just shouldn't move this quickly.

"She is your only friend, and you can't deny me that anymore. What are you going to do when she finds out? And what are you going to do when I let you out of this ruddy tub?"

Spike sits there speechless. He turns his head trying to see through the plaster and wood that conceals the red head from him.

})i({

He could hear them in the kitchen. Willow is fighting with Buffy over a chore. Warming blood. For him. Pouring it in a mug. For him. Bringing blood. To him.

"I may have a big heart, Buffy, but I in no way am willing to beat my head against a brick wall. I tried once to be civil, but now I realize he doesn't even deserve that. Just throw a bag at him for all I care. It's more than he deserves."

Spike winces in the bathtub.

"I bloody well mucked this up. The pillock would let me have cold blood for the rest of my existence."

He ignored the other voice whispering in his head.

"Willow, listen to me. He gave me info in return I promised warm blood. If I don't keep my word then I'm no better than the fiend in the bathroom. I am better than him."

"You are, Buffy. But it's your deal, and you should take the blood to him."

Willow shoves the mug at Buffy then stalks out of the kitchen to sit down on the couch and pout.

"Remember me trying to be civil; nice even, but no more do I wanna see the big bad. Let him stew in his own big bathtub of juices."

Spike looks down at his cramped legs and around to the sanitary white of his living quarters. He has not been outside them for days; not sure how many. He lost count quite a few hours ago.

"Big my arse."

Buffy puts down the mug on the table and sits next to her best friend. She quiets her voice, and the blond in the tub can no longer clearly hear them.

"Wills, I'm worried bout you. I don't know how to help you with the Oz- thing. I want to help you so much. I thought maybe Spike could be a pet project. Ya know, tame the wild beast and all that?"

Willow looks up into her best friend's eyes.

"I know you want to help. It makes my heart feel good to know that you care but is spending time with the bleached wonder good for anyone?"

"I really don't know, but like you said you have a big heart, and he's not so much a brick wall anymore. Maybe you can help him grow up?"

Willow raises an eyebrow.

"That vampire has the largest Peter Pan complex I've ever seen. It's worse than Xander's. But why? Why do you care so suddenly about Spike, Mr. I've- tried-to-kill-you-multiple-times-in-devious-ways. And he still is a brick wall. It's been barely 72 hours since he showed up. People change but not *that* quick."

"Cuz, Wills, he's caged; he's chained. I dunno somewhere deep down in me I want to believe he can change-that we all can change and recover from the descent into evil. I need to believe that in extreme circumstances we can all become a better version of ourselves despite what we are and where we have come from. If we can't change, if he can't change, then why am I fighting? Why do I risk my life, if I can't believe that people and even vampires can change? That the world will get better?"

Willow sighs.

"Can't you do the save-his-soul-even-though-he-doesn't-have-one thing?"

"You're way more patient. And I think maybe deep somewhere in him he still does have his soul. We already know he's not like other vamps-he did love Dru for about one hundred years."

"Wouldn't it be easier if we just gave him back his soul, instead of trying to dig it up from the recesses of places I'm not sure even Angelus would wanna go?"

"I don't wanna do it that way, Wills. I want to see if a demon really does have good or if they're all bad. I wanna see if they truly lose their souls or if I'm right."

"So this is more of a research project?"

Willow shifts in her seat, starting to gesture with her hands.

"Sure, Wills, if that makes it bearable for you, make it a research project, and you can do lots of testing on him!"

"OH! OH! Can I make little folders and get color coded pens and be all scientific like?" Both girls giggle. Willow continues to gesture.

"Alright. I'll give him a week. If he doesn't show some improvement in a week then we're done. He's hopeless. And we throw him to the proverbial wolves."

"Deal, Wills. Think of this as your next great project. A way to find the inner self after Oz."

"Ya, it'll at least get my mind off of the whole boyfriend leaving thing."

Buffy reaches out to pull the red head into her arms as she starts to sob. As Willow's sobs turn into hiccups and the water works is turned on, Spike's ears perk up. He can hear the girls again. In the next hour, while his blood grew cold, as Willow pours her heart out to her best friend, and unknowingly Spike, an infinitesimal piece of the ice around his heart falls off.

})i({

"William?"

"Yes, Mum?"

William looks up from his breakfast and his paper to his mother sitting across the table from him.

"You did a wonderful job with Celia's wedding. Now when are you going to plan your own?"

William groans.

"Mother, you know very well I had to get those three married before I could run off and marry myself. It's been a week. I'm still young, desirable, and dashing."

He winks at his mother.

"Twenty-five, dear. You're twenty-five. Most of your friends are married, settled down, leaving their elderly mothers to themselves."

This time Eve winks at her son.

"Mum, I just haven't found her yet. Give it time; in the end I'm sure we'll find each other."

His mother's eyes start to take on a devilish gleam.

"Doesn't mean I can't help things a bit. Your father and I had a little help finding each other."

William eyes dart back down to his paper. Shoulders slumped in defeat, he takes a deep breath to speak.

"I'm just starting to figure out all of the things Father tried to teach me all those years ago, things about being a man, loving people, being myself. I have nothing yet to offer a lady, and I'm not marrying one until I do no matter how pushy you get."

She gently reaches over and takes her son's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"You have lots to offer, my son, and I know you'll find everything you're looking for. I just would like to help so it's sooner rather than later. I just want to see you happy, is all. You can't be happy forever looking after an old coot."

She opens her smile wide to reassure her son, but holds up a hand to stop his protests.

"Alright, Mother."

})i({

Willow surveys herself once again. Her usual sneaker clad feet stare back at her, but in an effort to feel more researcher-like, she had gone shopping. She bought a deep blue skirt-suit complete with womanly-cut blouse.

"Darn tootin'. I need to look grown-up. I just don't need the uncomfortable shoes part."

She also has a binder with color-coded tabs and labels such as 'Spike's Reactions', 'Spike's Vampire History', 'Spike's Human History', 'Spike's Likes/Dislikes", etc; complete with questionnaires and room for notes in each section. The plan she came up with was to find out as much as possible about him then move him into rehabilitation.

"And if a friendship evolves so be it. If he really is good, I could always use more friends. Friends that don't bite or demean or make you fall in love with them, then cheat on you, leave, and break your heart."

She quickly wipes away the tear coming from the corner of her eye. She glances upward to her hair that she twisted into a very becoming bun at the base of her neck. To top off the ensemble she bought a pair of fake glasses to make her look more sophisticated. Despite the sneakers, she looks ready to take on a board of directors or a bored vampire.

"Here we go."

With one swift calming breath, she reaches for the door knob and enters the bathroom. Upon hearing her entering, Spike looks up expectantly.

"Oh, it's just you, Witch. And no blood." He starts to pout.

"I would appreciate it if you would call me Willow, thank you very much."

That's when Spike stops glancing and really looks at Willow.

"When did your eye sight go bad, you bint?"

"None of your business."

"Or start dressing like you're older than ten?"

"Again, my business not yours."

"Or learn to put up your hair?"

"Ok, Spike, enough with the twenty questions. We're not here to talk about me; we're here to talk about you. So let's focus."

Spike snorts. Willow grabs a towel from a clean stack on the counter and places it atop the toilet seat lid. She sits daintily down crosses her legs, uncaps her pen, opens her notebook, and turns to peer over her glasses at the captive in the tub.

"So Spike, tell me about you. I want to know all about William the Bloody."

With her pen poised and ready, eager grin on her face, Spike can't help but burst out in hysterical laughter.

"Thanks, Pet, I haven't had a laugh that good in ages. Now you've had your fun you can just go get me my blood."

"Nope, don't think so. You and I are going to have a good old fashioned heart to heart. Seriously, Spike, you're going to be stuck in this tub for a long time probably-until either you are dust or Buffy and Giles can trust you. Which I have a feeling is a long way off due to your stubbornness and immaturity and the fact that you're a nemesis who sucks lots of blood from the living people whom Buffy is meant to save. What else are you going to do to pass the time?"

Babbling always equals a nervous red head so Willow turns to tapping her pen to relieve her tension before she keeps talking and embarrassing herself. Seconds tick by.

"I'm not leaving until you talk."

"Well, I'm not talking until I get blood."

"Well, you're not getting your blood until you talk."

"Bloody hell, Witch."

Willow giggles.

"What now, you git."

"Have you ever heard.the irony in your diction? You drink blood. you're favorite.you're favorite.curse includes.bl.blood."

Willow is frantically using her hands to convey the meaning of her point to Spike, while laughing so hard she can't really speak. Her pen dropped and forgotten on the floor along side her binder, Willow does everything she can to stop her outburst and remain dignified.

"Sod off. I'm not *BLOODY* talking so you can just *BLOODY* sit there forever for all I *BLOODY* well care."

Willow immediately sobers atop her precarious perch on the toilet. She picks up her lost articles on the floor, places them atop the counter near the towels, and then exits the room. A very satisfied smirk plays on Spike's face. It falls immediately as she re-enters the room book in hand. Without so much as a peep, she opens to her bookmark and begins to read. Spike's face continues to fall dangerously low; so low that in fact it might hit his manacled hands. Growling and mumbling, he shifts in the tub to regain some semblance of a comfortable position. Willow doesn't so much as blink from her book; her eyes dart and her lips make slight movements as she reads the words. After about two hours of Spike shifting and throwing darts at her with his eyes and Willow reading, she stands, marks her page, and gathers her things.

"Same time; same place tomorrow?"

There is no real question in her statement.

"Bloody well hope not."

But Willow does not acknowledge his ironic statement as she walks out the door. He just stares longingly at the shut door.

})i({

"What are you intentions towards Willow?"

"Bloody hell, I don't know. I've done a lot of thinking in this tub and let me tell you it hurts. I know she's my friend-the only one of this ruddy group that sticks up for me. I want; I need to be there for her-return the favor. Can the rest of you let me?"

Giles regards Spike suspiciously.

"I won't pretend to like you Spike, nor will I pretend to trust you. What is important though, is that Willow trusts you. You will have to wait for her to decide what role you will play in her life."

He holds up a hand to stop Spike's opening mouth. In a characteristic move to calm his nerves, Giles removes his glasses and starts to clean them.

"I am going to let you out though. Later once I talk to Buffy. I'm sick of you in my house, and the one thing I'm sure of is that you.um.don't chase the other puppies anymore."

Once Giles is finished, the blond can no longer find his voice anymore.

"But this is your only chance. Screw this up and you will be dust."

Turning abruptly, Giles leaves to check on Willow in the living room before she becomes suspicious. Defeated in the tub, Spike is once again left to his thoughts.

})i({

Spike rolls his eyes as Willow enters in yet another of her business suits for the fifth day in a row. While she is still feeding him despite his lack of information, she does still sit in the bathroom for two hours reading her book and waiting for him to talk.

She sits down and opens the book. A plain expression covers her face; there is no sign of frustration, anger, or spite. The vampire shakes his head and mumbles something along the line of "extreme patience" under his breath. Then his thoughts turn pensive. He has a chance-one that has never been given before, but he desperately needs. Indecision plagues his mind and heart. Who is he? What does he want to be come in light of the recent developments? What is he brave enough to take? A heartbeat later, he makes his decision. It's time to take chances.

"My father died when I was eighteen."

Willow's head snaps up from her book, and she quickly places a bookmark in it. Reaching over for her pen and binder, the pain and uncertainty in Spike's voice stop her. This is about listening, Willow realizes. One small step forward for Spike she can't degrade with science. She raises her hand to pat his, reassuring him to go on.

Falling back on old habits, the blond takes a breath to steady himself. Both shift to become comfortable. Then he commences the tale of his father's death and burial. As Willow's emotions play on her face, another piece of ice falls from the wall around his heart.

})i({

Willow writes "black t-shirts" on the box in front of her then re-caps the permanent marker.

"Are there anymore?"

"Nope, I think these boxes are it, Red."

"Hmmm.you don't have much do you?"

"Not really, I guess some shopping's in order don't you, Luv?"

Willow surveys the three cardboard boxes in front of her. It had taken her only a few minutes to convince Giles to let Spike out. The rapidity of his decision probably had more to do with the fact that he had already decided to let him out, rather than Willow's well thought out speech. Now they are packing up the little bit he had stashed in his lair, ready to move to his new apartment in town. He had found one almost immediately after her was unshackled and was now, a few days later, ready to move in. Her face lights up at the proposed shopping trip.

"I guess we'll have to brave some furniture stores so you don't have to eat, sit, and sleep on the floor. Oh! OH! And we can visit an electronics store to get you a sound and entertainment system."

Willow bounces on her toes as a myriad of ideas flash before her eyes.

"Settle down, Pet. We'll go when you're feeling better. Don't you have a doctor's appointment anyway to head to?"

The bouncing stops, and her face falls to a scowl.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I feel fine now. It's just in the morning so something must be off about my eating schedule or my sleeping schedule. I've heard that can make you sick. Maybe it's just like you said. Maybe, I just need to slow down."

During her tirade, Willow starts to shift from foot to foot and fidgets her hands. Spike quickly grabs her hands to calm her so she'll listen.

"Doctor's aren't all that bad. You don't even have to go to the hospital. Just a quick check-up and then home. Just keep telling yourself it's for your own good, and you'll feel better. In fact I've heard modern medicine has come a long way from the blood-letting of my days. They can work miracles like blood transfusions now or so I'm told."

Willow raises an eyebrow in doubt but sincerely takes comfort in the vampire's words. "Fine. Fine. You're right. I'll go be checked out like a good little girl. I need to get going now in fact."

"I hear Giles coming anyway to pick you up. Come by the flat this evening for a toast and a christening?"

Willow nods and picks up her bag right as Giles enters the dark lair.

"Ready to go?"

Another nod and Willow follows Giles out. Willow turns and throws one final thought over her shoulder.

"Off to my doom!"

Spike chuckles in return wryly, trying to ignore the foreshadowing in her words.

})i({

With a deep sigh, Willow replaces the phone in its cradle. Buffy and Xander will be over in minutes to talk and she has big news to spill, gigantic news, news that will change everything. She rises to stand in front of the mirror, hand moving to stroke her belly-news she doesn't even know how to deal with. Tears don't come however. She is strangely devoid of them in this stressful time.

"When did life become so complicated?"

The person in the mirror has no response for her, merely stares sympathetically with a hint of deep courage in her eyes.

"I'm only nineteen, but I can do this. This is my responsibility. I know it can be joy, too. I've got friends to help me. I'm bright and resourceful. This can be the good out of his leaving."

Despite the pep-talk, the woman in the mirror groans.

"I've got to find Oz somehow to tell him."

The doorbell rings just then though, and puttering down to the front door she opens it for her friends. Buffy with Xander in tow come in with anxious looks on their faces.

"Wills, what's wrong?"

"What's the emergency?"

"Come in and sit down. I have something I need to tell you guys."

The anguish deepens in both her friend's eyes as they all move to the couch to sit down. Before they can open their mouths to question her further, Willow starts.

"I need you guys to hear me through first. Then questions, ok?"

Two heads nod assent.

"At Giles's and Spike's prompting, I went to the doctor today for the flu like symptoms I've been having for the past week. It took some prompting because you know I'm stubborn, but Spike finally got me there with a few threats and Giles helped with the well chosen words of wisdom that he's known for. And well I don't have the flu, so that's good. Ya know, no one likes to be sick and all. But I do have a life changing.ummm.well, I.um.I guess you could say.well.I'm pregnant."

Shocked faces meet Willow's when she looks up from her hands. Xander moves his mouth to speak but can't. He looks rather like a fish breathing under water. Buffy, however, after the initial shock launches over to grab Willow in a bear hug. Once in her best friend's arms, Willow finally breaks down in heart-wrenching sobs.

"Oz?"

Willow simply nods at Buffy unable to speak anymore. Xander finally awakening out of his shock joins the bear hug, too. After a few minutes of unconditional comfort, Willow speaks up again.

"Twins, too. I'm having twins. As in two. Thing One and Thing two. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to tell my parents. I need to find Oz. He has a right to know being the father and all. I thought making love to him was perfect but that was until I remembered the consequences. I never realized the consequences for loving someone would be so heavy. I forgot about the consequences. Me, caution-girl, Old Faithful, the one time I forget to think and consider and weigh the options."

She breaks into new tears. Xander takes her fully into his arms and coos to her while Buffy takes her hands and starts to brush the hair from her face.

"Willow, loving someone is beautiful, and yes this is heavy, but we'll help you through it whatever your choice is. We'll baby-sit, change diapers, and pick out clothes, whatever you need. You were there when my first love turned into a homicidal maniac. Babies I think are better than that."

Willow smiles. Xander enthusiastically nods his head.

"Ya, Wills, I always knew we'd raise our kids together. You just got a head start on us."

"Exactly, that's all this is a head start! You always were the over- achiever. And remember you can have something beautiful and precious out of this. I got ugly and 'grrr' out of my first love."

Willow widens her smile and squeezes Buffy's hands. There is no pain in Buffy's eyes just the need to soothe a friend's ache.

"Thank you. I can't give up my babies that I know. I haven't told my parents, and until then I don't know what course I'm going to take. I want to stay in college, but I'm willing to put it off. I need to put my babies first."

"What about Oz?"

Willow considers Xander's question deeply.

"I don't even really know where he is, but I have to tell him. He needs to be a part of his children's lives if that's his decision. I know I should force him to own up to his responsibility, but I can't make him do it. I won't have a half-focused father for my children. I'll just take his help in anyway possible."

"I should beat him into it. He needs to take care of you now, Willow. This is half his responsibility just like yours. Just because you have the physical part doesn't mean his job here is done."

"Right! Beating him would be good for what he did to our Willow."

Willow shoots a reprimanding look at both the blond and the brunette.

"No beating, not yet."

Willow settles in between her best friends as they continue to discuss the newest twist in their lives.

"Does Giles know?"

"Yes, Xander, he was the one with me when I found out. It was good to have him with me. He's more our father than any of our own biological fathers have been for us."

The other two teens nod in agreement.

"Good, I'm glad he was there with you. I wish we could have been there, too. You won't be alone anymore with this. I hate to ask this though, what about Spike? Have you told him?"

Eyebrows rise questioningly at the slayer.

"Wills, we all know you two are tight. Don't worry about it. I knew the moment you stopped looking at him like a research project you were his friend. He can help you, too. It's not like he has a job or anything."

"I was going over to his new apartment tonight anyway for a christening party so I'm going to tell him then."

"You need our help? Want us to go with you?"

The mother-to-be shakes her head at Xander.

"No, I'll be fine on my own. But you guys can stay here until it's sunset, and we can think up crazy names and start planning all the stuff I'm going to need to do. You can walk me over too."

"Of course! We can't risk the babies. And no more patrolling for you!"

"Buffy, I'll be alright for a few more months. I can at least keep you company."

Buffy gives her a look.

"Alright, alright. Research only for me."

While Willow crosses her fingers behind her back, both nod and smile at the way Willow has lightened the mood, taking heart in the strength Willow displays and the hope that everything will turn out alright.

})i({

"Try poetry, dear."

She startles her son as she walks into the room.

"Mum.?"

"All these emotions I see on your face might look better on paper, my son. You might be able to verbalize better with a pen."

"I don't know if I'm feeling anything yet, Mum. That's the problem."

She reaches out to pat her son's cheek. He continues to sit dejectedly in the wing back chair-back slumped, head forward on chest, legs flopped on the ground before him, arms listlessly resting over the arms of the chair; he is the picture of the tormented mind.

"Writing can help to sort out all those feelings running through your heart. This is the first time I've seen you this way and if this girl is anywhere near as special as your eyes tell me she is, then she's worth the effort."

William sighs.

"Alright, Mum. I'll try."

As she walks out, William walks over to his writing desk and pulls out a few blank sheets. Picking up his fountain pen, he begins to pour out his heart onto the paper.

})i({

A petit, shy red head stares at William as he fawns over the gorgeous blond. Self consciously the red head reaches to feel her hair checking to make sure it's in place. It is, and her roaming hands return to her lap. Her eyes return to the gorgeous brown-haired male. The butterflies in her stomach flutter while her heart sighs. He doesn't notice her. He has eyes only for the blond.

"I just can't help but stare though."

There is an affinity between the two. She can feel it. He obviously cannot. It was there in the first moment they met, in the electricity she felt in his hesitant handshake. They may be mild acquaintances, but if he'd open his eyes, there could be so much more; there could be enough to finally allow him to understand, to save him from his future. Unprepared for love, beauty sidetracks him. For all the lessons he was taught, he is still not ready. He still does not understand. The red head thus continues to stare as he writes fervently on paper, all the while wishing he wrote to her. Green eyes momentarily cloud with pain as he looks up and past her to the subject of his poetry. In the back ground there is a wisp of conversation the shy girl catches.

"Bloody awful poetry."

"I like your poetry, William."

But she is too quiet for anyone to hear. She watches as pain momentarily mars his flawless face when he too catches the topic of conversation. Then he rushes off after the blond female, and the red head is left to her thoughts. Ignored and despondent, the young beauty makes ready to leave. As she calls for her carriage, William rushes past her, eyes glistening, and stumbles out into the night. Her heart goes out to him. She whispers and silent prayer that whatever hurts will heal; that he would be safe. Her prayer goes unheard however, and so much longer must she wait.

})i({

A quick knock on the door brings Spike out of his kitchen.

"Come on in, Red."

He opens the door and ushers inside indicating for her to have a seat on the couch.

"Spike! You never said you already had furniture. Naughty vampire leading poor shopping deprived girl on."

From her seat on the couch she wags a finger at him. Spike raises his shoulders in an attempt to look contrite.

"What can I say, Pet? I'm evil."

He sits himself in the love seat across from her. He raises his arms in a gesture to show her his new pad.

"Well, what do you think? And there is still a lot to buy, so don't worry you'll be entrusted with my gold card soon enough."

Turning her head slowly, Willow absorbs the dark décor and sparse furnishings. Upon the second look, she realizes there is a lot less in the apartment than she first thought. What is there though, is just like his personality: dark with a splash of color. Mentally she starts to catalog all the things they need to buy. From his position, Spike waits with held breath for her approval.

"I like. It suits you."

Unconsciously, he releases his held breath. Now that the initial pleasantries are over Willow starts to fidget-hands in lap start twisting each other, eyes dart from heavily draped window to door to floor. Legs cross and uncross. Noticing instantaneously, the blonde's head perks up.

"What's wrong, Red. Why with the fidgeting?"

She looks up at him then looks down contemplation etched deeply in her features. Suddenly though, she starts to cry, and Spike is up and holding her in a second. He tenderly wipes the hair from her eyes. He rocks her back and forth as huge hiccupping sobs wrack her body.

"Talk to me, Willow."

Large, glistening eyes look up from his shoulder. Green lock with blue. Reluctance meets a knowing gaze.

"I'm.pregnant.with.twins."

She manages to finally get it out between sobs. The instant the words are out of her mouth, Spike draws her in closer. This is the moment he's been waiting for since he first recognized her triple heart beat for what it was. This is the time he can prove his worth to his best friend-give her all the love and support she deserves, be the person she has helped him to become. Willow acknowledges his comfort and allows him to draw her in closer. She needs this as much as he needs to give it. So they hold each other, one wishing to block out the troubles of the world; the other relishing in the other's power to protect her. Finally, the serene silence is broken.

"I know, Luv. I've been able to hear their heartbeats for a few weeks now. When you started getting sick, I was convinced."

Having taken the proffered tissue, Willow blows her nose before speaking.

"Oh."

No hint of anger or reproach tinges her softly spoken word.

"Who's?"

"Oz. Before he left."

"How far along are you?"

"A little over three months. The doctor says I should start showing soon due to my size. Twins aren't usually as healthy as single births and there are more risks. I need to be extra careful."

He nods.

"We'll make sure everything's fine. The doctors'll take care of everything."

"I know. Here I went into this hoping to avoid the hospital and doctors, and I get thrown into seeing more of them."

She sighs deeply, shakes then hangs her head.

"Talk to me. Tell me what's buzzing around in your head."

A cool finger taps against her forehead for emphasis. Without looking up or moving from her soothing position, Willow pours out her heart.

"I don't know how to tell my parents. I don't know how I'm going to handle school and two babies. I know I can't drop out if we're going to have any kind of future. I don't know where my money is going to come from if my parents cut me off. I don't know where I am going to stay. I don't know how to raise children. Spike, I'm only nineteen. I'm still a kid myself. I'm having not only one baby but two. I feel like my life is over when it should be just beginning. Then I feel guilty because I know this can be something wonderful. I want to know why I can have children when hundreds of couples out there keep trying and can't. I don't know what Oz wants. I know I can't give up my babies. And werewolves! Oz is a werewolf. Will my babies be, too? I don't know what to do, and I don't know where to begin to fix it all. Everyone is going to be so helpful and supportive, but I still can't help but feel terribly alone. I always wanted to have children but when I had a husband to dote on me and a career to fall back on. Mostly though, I'm scared and confused."

Her Olympic-sized babble ended abruptly with her body shrinking even further in on itself. Silently, Spike squeezed her hard; his now warm heart breaking for the young woman in his arms.

"Give it a little time, Red. Once the shock wears off you'll be able to think clearly. We'll tell your parents and find Oz. We'll work it all out. You're not alone and even I'll help."

He cautiously takes her chin into his hand and pulls her face up to meet his.

"You're the best and only friend I've ever had, Willow. I promised myself, and now I promise you I'll do everything in my power to help you."

"You sure you don't want my first born in payment?"

"No, maybe just the chance to corrupt your first born."

Willow giggles at her friend's attempt at humor then returns his embrace.

"But, Pet, I've been thinking about it. If you need to, you can move in here with me. It's the reason I got a spacious flat to begin with. I can help with the babies seeing I'm in no other way employed. This can be your place to turn to if Oz and your parents abandon you."

Totally unprepared for his offer, Willow bolts up to a sitting position. Her eyes bore into Spike's.

"I don't know how to feel or how my friends will feel about William the Bloody being my babies's nursemaid. But I dunno, Spike. I would love to move in. Out of the house and all. Just let's see what happens and go from there."

He nods his assent.

"But I will bloody baby sit. Remember I had three younger sisters. I can change a mean diaper."

"Yeah, when they were cloth, Old Man."

Spike's brow furrow.

"Maybe, I should brush up then."

"Maybe, you should."

Unexpectedly, Willow stands and takes another look around the new flat.

"In all of this you forgot the ten cent tour!"

"Well then, Milady, let me have the pleasure of escorting you around my humble abode." The apartment was the second floor of an abandoned warehouse that Spike now owned; the first floor being the garage and storage area. The large mostly open loft space above however is everything one could expect from the blond vampire. It was finished off in dark wood floors and dark wood walls which were bare for the moment waiting for Willow's touch. Any furniture was either again dark wood or black leather. The few throws were jewel tones. The kitchen done in stainless steel was small and off to the right of the hole in the floor that leads to the steps down to the front doorway. In the left back corner behind standing screens was his bed again done in black and again waiting for a Willowy touch. The bathroom as she guessed it was again black and desperately needed towels and the basic necessities. The only lights were either the many candles that littered the room for the few floor lamps. The scattered windows have dark drapes and the overhead lighting had been removed. In essence it was the perfect dark gothic getaway for any vampire.

"And here you led us to believe you needed money."

"One does not live with Angelus without learning how to plan for the future."

"I really see where you need the shopping though. You men only think of the bare essentials."

He simply shrugs.

"I need more lamps and bookcases. All of my books are below in storage. I need stuff for the kitchen and bathroom too. I'm not good with this decorating stuff."

She nods her head turning in one more perusal of his new living quarters. It was unmistakably the Spike she knew. Anyone else coming in might see it as a tad bit much, but she knew.

"I accept the challenge. But now walk me home? Giles thought I should be in early tonight for safety."

"Sure, Red."

Spike links arms with Willow then guides her down the steps to the door. He turns around to lock up once they're out. While he secures his home, she looks down at their interlocked arms and frowns. She snatches his hand up to show him.

"Time for more polish, Spikey."

He turns her hands over in his.

"You too, Red. You need fill-ins as well. We can do that next time you come over."

Willow smiles big and bright. They start towards her house. Warmed simply by her company, a chunk from the ice wall encasing Spike's heart falls.

})i({

Spike sits in his porcelain bed focused on one thing. 3:05 blinks in neon green taunting him. He looks back to the ceiling and starts to count the cracks in the plaster. He looks back to the clock. It reads 3:08.

"Bloody Hell! Eight days and already I'm looking forward to the bint coming. I need some good old fashioned entertainment before I go completely poofy. Maybe the bint would bleed for information."

He draws his fingers up 'Mr. Burns' style and starts to tap them, evil thoughts swirling in his brain.

"Excellent."

Willow bursts in on his Simpsons impression and plops down on the toilet.

"Tired, Witch? I could help out with that. A little blood letting to lead you into eternal sleep?"

"Oh, do shut up if that's all you have to say. No one thinks you're scary. And you know I'm not going to take that seriously. I'm going to sit here for two hours then go. I'm not in the mood, and I'm not going to take it, cuz I may be too tired to get blood today."

Willow grabs a tissue, blows her nose, but continues to sniffle. Spike looks her over appraisingly. Her hair is stringy and unwashed. Her eyes are puffy and red with dark circles underneath. Her clothes are wrinkled and dirty. She does not have to be here. She could have not come, but she did, and she's here.

"You look like hell, Pet."

"Thanks, Blondie. Way to make a girl feel special."

Spike rolls his eyes at himself and gives up.

"Tell me what's wrong, Pet. You know tit for twat. I've shared, now you can share."

At the sincerity in his voice, her head shoots up to find the same sincerity and maybe even caring in his face. He does his best to put on a puppy dog face. He widens his eyes and sticks out his lip. Being out of practice however, he merely looks constipated. Touched by the display despite its frightening and disturbing qualities, Willow decides for better or for worse to spill her guts.

"I haven't been doing laundry regularly lately. Can't bring myself to do much of anything lately. So I pulled out the first thing I could find to wear today, and it wasn't until I saw myself in a mirror in the bathroom near one of my classrooms that I realized I'm wearing one of Oz's old shirts. I couldn't change then though and had to wait until class was over for the day so I could get back to the dorm. And when I did, I really didn't have anything clean to wear so now I have a shirt that smells like Oz, feels like Oz, and I look like Oz. I still have to do laundry as well, and I really just don't have the energy to do it."

The flood dams break, and tears pour from Willow's eyes. Spike shifts uncomfortably unsure as to how to help the blubbering girl. Eventually, he reaches out to pat her shoulder self- consciously. At the unexpected contact, Willow looks up. All she can do is give him a large toothy grin.

"There, Luv, that wasn't so hard."

"Thanks, Spike. I think."

"No problem, Red."

Placing her chin on one of her hands perched on her knee, Willow sighs.

"So what do you want to talk about today?"

The binder with the multi-colored tabs is gone along with the pen, outfit, and intelligent looking glasses. It's just a vampire and a witch sitting in a bathroom trying to have a conversation as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"You. Tell me about you. Tell me something you've never told anyone else."

"Spike.I already shared. I told you about Oz."

Willow uses her best motherly warning tone with the petulant vampire.

"No, Pet. I've been spilling my guts like the poofy wanker for days now, and I think it's time that you share a little more, too. Oz was a good start."

"Alright, I guess that is only fair. What would you like to know?"

"Something not even the Slayer knows. Tell me something you're scared to let those other twits know about."

The witch's face scrunches up in concentration and hesitation until a light bulb goes on in her head, and her face lights up.

"I want to write."

"So get a bloody pen then."

She shakes her head in mock frustration.

"No, I love writing. It's my secret passion-more so than fighting demons or even the computer. It's what I do when all of this becomes too much. I lock myself in the dorm and write. I would love to be an English major and spend my years as some penniless writer trying to bring truth and beauty into the world."

Spike is shocked and doesn't wear it well on his face.

"Why not do it then? Why not change majors and go for it?"

"It would be too much of a shock; too much explaining to everyone. Not to mention a history major or mythology major would be more helpful with the slaying-makes me more affective research girl. And the computer engineering will keep me eating and supported."

"Luv, when does your own happiness outweigh what duty you feel towards your friends?"

Willow shrugs.

})i({

Standing far back from the main crowd, a red head stands under a willow tree. Hanky in hand, she tries to control her raging emotions. The wind brings her snippets of the service going on.

"He was a talented man."

"Beloved by many."

"Devoted son and brother."

"Many will mourn his loss."

"From dust.to dust.we rise again from the ashes."

He heart screams in protest at her silent loss. She cannot join the group mourning the graveside: she must stand alone-forever waiting. She shivers and almost hopes strong arms will encompass her, blocking out all that hurts her. How can she take comfort in the dead man she mourns? She never got to hear his voice address her. She never got to feel his hand grasp hers. She watched from afar while he watched someone else-forever waiting. She mourns the man he was, the man he was trying to become, and the man he could have been with her. The connection felt in life is not diminished in death. She can still sense him. He is always a part of her whether he knew it or not. She watches his mother bowed over in grief and three struggling sisters try to comfort her. He was more than just the world to her; he meant the world to so many others, too.

"I miss you, William. I will always miss you. I'll find you one day."

She offers her words to fate strung on the wind with hope. One day, she feels it, her waiting will be over. It is all in the timing.

})i({

"Devon?"

"Yeah?"

A groggy, half-asleep voice greets the almost frantic Willow.

"Devon, goddess, I thought I'd never get a hold of you."

"Willow?"

"Uh huh, Devon, it's me. I need a huge favor. You need to get a hold of Oz for me. I need to see him. No matter what."

By this point, Devon is fully away and sitting on the edge of his motel bed.

"What is it, Willow?"

"I just need him ok? I don't want him to hear about it through you. Just tell him to get a hold of me at least, but it would be better if he just came home for a few days. It's really important."

"Alright. I'll find him. This better be good."

"Oh, it is."

Then she hung up the phone just as her mother walks into the room.

"You wanted to talk to your father and me?"

Taking a deep calming breath, Willow nods and follows her mother down to the family room to her doom.

})i({

"Three bloody weeks and this is the first time she's late. Gets me all used to her coming and spilling my ruddy guts then is late. Probably doing something for the Slayer instead of sitting with me. Stupid wench."

Just then the slight noise of the front door opening and quick steps to the bathroom are heard. Within seconds, a heaving Willow bursts through the door a hand held to a pair of burning lungs. She collapses on the toilet seat and takes a few deep breaths before speaking.

"Class.ra.ran.late.so.sor.sorry."

Willow continues to suck in air in large quantities trying to regain her breath. He other hand moves to the stitch in her side and starts to massage her screaming muscles.

"Ran all the way here.bad for muscles.burning lactic acid.causes cramps.need to replenish oxygen.muscles burn oxygen."

"Leave it to you, Red, to be scientific when you're in pain."

"You know.just.in.case you're.ever on.jeap.Jeapordy."

He laughs at her. She puts her head down between her knees to help catch her breath. After a few minutes her deep panting slows down, and she looks up with a Cheshire cat grin. Holding up one finger to indicate for him to wait a moment, she dives into her over-the-shoulder bag to dig something out. Seconds later her hand emerges clenched tightly around something he cannot see. She subsequently commences bouncing on her seat in anticipation.

"I have a surprise for you!"

"Then bloody well give it to me and save the song and dance routine."

She scrunches up her face as if contemplating something then looks back to him. With the utmost patience and care she one by one unclasps her fingers. By the time she gets to her middle finger, Spike is doing his best not to rip her hand open. Finally, Willow's pinky unfurls and a bottle of black nail polish is dropped into Spike's outstretched hands. The surprised look on his face indicates this was not what he was hoping for. He stares blankly at it for a moment almost as if he's unsure as how to go about using it.

"Red? Why in the bloody hell did you give me nail polish?"

She picks up one of his hands shoving his nails underneath his eyes.

"Because your nails, my dear vampire, are in a disreputable state. Today, I thought, we could repair them."

Proceeding then to also take out cotton balls and nail polish remover, Willow raises her eyebrows in permission. Spike looks to the nail polish in his lap to the supplies in her hands then back to Willow's beseeching face. Between the puppy dog eyes and her pouty lip, Spike couldn't deny her a thing, even if she was an hour late. He offered his nails up to the fashion gods. Willow squealed in delight when she saw his acquiescence. Snatching the bottle from his lap and his hands, she began to work.

"Who usually does your nails, Spike?"

"Dru used to when she would get into a fit about having her nails done 'cuz she bloody wanted me to match n'all."

"When did you start doing it?"

"Long before all these grunge twits started doing it."

"You're a trend setter, Spike. What can I say?"

After removing the polish, she places his right hand on her thigh and uncaps the bottle. Lip caught between her teeth, brow furrowed deeply, she concentrates on the task before her. Spike watches amused.

"What's your natural hair color?"

"I'd love to know how that mind of yours works, Pet."

"That's one I haven't heard before. Are you sure it's a dye color?"

Spike shakes his head in mock dejection then raises his eyes heavenward to ask "Why me?"

"Light brown, Red."

"Oh, and for your information, I was looking at the black nail polish brush and wondering if anyone had hair that black, You know, naturally, then thought, well, if they can have hair as blond as yours, then they can have hair as black as that. But then I remembered that your hair color isn't natural and you're roots are starting to show which means you need more bleach to kill more brain cells, but they're already dead aren't they? So anyway, I can't see your roots well enough to see their color and was wondering what it is."

"Whoa. To walk around in your brain for a day."

"It costs $11.35 with tax."

Willow has to pause for a moment in her painting while Spike laughs himself out.

"It's worth a lot more to be in your head, Red."

Quickly sobering, Willow returns to the nails in front of her while Spike falls silent.

"So, Luv, why don't you paint your nails?"

Willow, pausing, looks down at her own nails-plain and pale.

"Don't know. Never thought about it. Never took the time to."

She taps his hand. He moves his left hand to her thigh. Willow returns her attention to his nails.

"You should. I think a nice red would become you, Red."

He chuckles at his own pun.

"That was bad even for you."

She taps his hand again, and he switches for her to do the second coat.

"When I'm done you'll have a nice new coat of nail polish to chip off and get to look all ratty again. You can be a regular punk."

"Cor, Red, you figured me out! Now what am I going to do on Saturday nights?"

Willow had to stop painting she was laughing so hard. She taps his hand for the final time ready to put on the second coat of his remaining hand.

"Seriously Red, it would become you nicely to get your nails done up pretty."

"I don't know. It's so expensive to keep them up, and I never had anyone to do them nicely for. Oz wore the nail polish in our relationship."

"So that's how you know how to do this so well."

She gives a brief nod.

"Once every two weeks."

"What about you, Pet?"

"What about me?"

She finishes and recaps the bottle and starts to blow on his nails so they dry.

"You, Pet. You should get your nails done for *you*."

"Don't know what's so special 'bout me that I deserve expensive beauty treatments."

He yanks his hand from her grasp causing her to look directly into his icy- blue eyes.

"You're sitting in a bathroom painting a bloke's nails, and you say there's nothing special about you?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Willow drops her gaze to the floor unable to hold his eyes.

"You should do something nice for yourself once in awhile instead of just for others."

She shrugs again.

"I dunno. Anyway, I have a ton of homework so I can't stay any longer. Let your nails dry before you go and do heavy work. I'll be by later."

She gathers her things quickly avoiding looking at the bleached blond in the tub. Spike sighs as she leaves the room, feeling a draft coming through the ice wall to his heart.

})i({

The red head walks swiftly down the street trying to escape the feeling of being followed. Blocks before her house though, it catches up to her as she is thrown against a wall. Being turned to face her attacker, she looks strait into piercing cerulean eyes.

"You're a pretty thing-might say you even glow. Let's see if you taste as good as you look."

His eyes turn amber while his face shifts to that of his demon.

"Oh, William."

The cry is desperate and mournful. She is more concerned for the man in front of her than for her own life.

"That's it girlie. Let me hear you scream."

Before he leans in for the kill, he looks into her emerald eyes and feels something stir inside him. Something deep within him recognizes something deep within her. He stops for a moment and just stares at her. From that secret place inside himself, a need comes to hold and touch the woman in front of him. He yearns for her. Disgusted with himself he throws her back against the wall.

"I forgive you."

With her softly spoken words, the spell breaks, and he can't stand to be near her for what she brings out in him. He turns and starts to run. Maybe he never really stopped.

})i({

Walking home through one of Sunnydale's many parks, Spike with his enhanced senses catches the rhythmic squeak, squeak of one of the swings near the center of the park. Intrigued he moves closer to the sound. He approaches the playground from the cover of heavy foliage and discovers a girl swinging in one of the swings. Almost instantly he recognizes the flaming red hair. Next he notices her slumped shoulders and head leaning forward against the chain. He would bet his fangs her eyes are shining with unshed tears. He starts to move to her making as much noise as possible so as not to startle her. She continues to sway back and forth without looking up.

"Pet, what are you doing out here so late?"

He walks around to face her and takes in the new tears and old tear tracks he knew would be there. Looking closer though, he can see the red mark of a hand print across her cheek. At once kneeling at her side, he takes her face gently in his hands. He can barely bring his voice above a whisper.

"Red, what happened? Who did this to you?"

"When you took me home, my parents were there so I told them. They weren't very pleased. I have to have my stuff out by tomorrow night. They want nothing more to do with me."

"Oh, Little Owl."

He rubs his thumb along the red mark trying to soothe the ache. Pearly tears spill from her eyes and run over his fingers.

"Does it hurt much?"

"No and yes."

He sighs. She closes her eyes to the outside world drawing strength from his touch and retreating to the inside. It's better on the inside. He chooses to ignore her being outside late and the depression it implies.

"Go home, pack you things up, and we'll move you in with me tomorrow. You'll stay with me, Little Owl. I'll even let Slutty and the moron come over to see you there."

She nods.

"Have you told your friends about all of this yet?"

She shakes her head no.

"Come on, Pet. Talk to me."

A few more minutes pass. He continues to hold her face as tears slide down his hands. A strangled sob escapes her lips.

"I didn't expect them to take it so badly. I might be fine school-wise with scholarships, but it was my home. They kicked me out of my home. And now I have no money. I can't do a job, school, and kids. Spike, I'm so afraid I'm going to have to give up my babies."

A hand lifts to brush the hair from her face. He gathers her into his arms as if to shield her from the world.

"We'll work it out. You'll work it out. I won't let you lose your babies. Stay with me; you can go to school. I'll take care of anything you need, Little Owl."

She whispers something even his enhanced hearing cannot catch.

"What, Luv?"

"Why?"

She opens her eyes to stare emerald into sapphire. The moment of truth comes.

"Because you're my friend; the only one I probably have. I take care of my friends, Pet. What sort of being would I be if I didn't mature enough to hold of my end of our friendship?"

She smiles wistfully at his words. She remembers her reprimand all those weeks ago also.

"I don't want to be a burden. I can make it somehow on my own."

Spike takes her hand with a firm squeeze.

"You are never a burden. Your friendship can only ever be a gift. Don't ever forget that, Little Owl. Now I suggest we get you home before I garner a reputation of being the bloody poof."

Willow giggles a little.

"There's my girl."

With a natural grace born of being a predator, Spike sets them both on their feet and directs them towards her house. A blond slayer from behind a tree watches the two leave with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

})i({

Another Friday night, another night baby sitting the blond vampire. Willow due to her Jewish/Wicca status offered to watch Spike so everyone could enjoy their Christmas Eve with their various honeys.

"Even Giles has someone to spend it with."

The tears don't come; however, they have fallen from behind her eyes to form a small ache in her heart.

"I just wish I had someone to spend the holiday with. I just have the Big Bad."

She came prepared for the evening alone however. There is chocolate and munchies in the kitchen. On the floor by the TV is a stack of videos. On the coffee table are a few books and some homework. And a key. Giles left her the key to Spike's chains. Just in case he had said.

"I could let him out and have someone to talk to. Or we could sit in the bathroom. Or I could sit here, leave him in there, and both of us sulk."

Making her decision quickly, she snatches up the key and storms into the bathroom. Spike looks up astonished.

"Evenin', Red."

"Let me see your wrists, Blondie."

Without question, he holds out his hands palms up. She removes the key from her pocket, leans down, and frees his wrists. She repeats the action with his ankles.

"Now, no running away, no biting, and no funny business. Consider this a part of your Christmas gift."

Speechless, Spike just stares at his now free hands and ankles. Willow walks out the door but pops her head back in before she reaches the kitchen.

"I wouldn't spend all my free time cramped in a tub if I were free, Spikey."

With a shake of the head, he's out the tub and into the living room before she can breathe.

"Let it be known that Vampires are not a lethargic bunch."

She follows after him and goes into the kitchen to grab her bag. After she finds a small green wrapped package, she moves to the living room. He has already established himself on the couch, remote in hand, some wacky cable show on. To get his attention, Willow stands in front of the TV.

"Cor, Pet, move."

"I just wanted to give you this before I start dinner."

Nervously, she hands him the gift then scurries off. He stares at it for minute confused.

"Sod it all, Pet."

He pulls off the large silver bow then tears through the shimmering green wrapping. The lid comes off to reveal a silver and blue Zippo lighter. He lifts it from its bed of tissue and fingers it a moment. He lifts the lid, swipes it against his jean clad thigh, and lights it. He anxiously repeats the action deciding what to do next. Slowly, deliberately, he pockets the lighter as he stands and walks to the kitchen. Willow is perusing the fridge and cupboards trying to find something to make. She hears him enter but does not turn around.

"It's not that I condone smoking, but you're dead, and it can't hurt you. Just don't set yourself on fire and don't do it around me, and we'll be fine."

She finally turns and smiles widely. He returns with and equally exuberant expression.

"Thank you, Red. It's a handsome gift."

Red color floods Willow's cheeks down to her neck. Spike reaches to grab something out of the fridge.

"Let me make you dinner. It's the least I can do; that and paint your nails."

An ever expressive scarred eyebrow waggles suggestively.

"You can cook?"

"There are a great many things I can do that you don't know about."

He shoos her out of the kitchen and starts to pull out pans, pots, and food. Willow settles on the couch wandering what he could possibly be making from the bare contents of Giles's fridge. With rattling pots and slamming cupboards in the background, she flips on the TV and waits.

"Chinese fine, Red?"

"Sure."

She replies distracted by the TV. Sometime later Spike walks in with two plates, two sets of silverware, and a wad of napkins in hand. She reaches up to take one from him then leans back into the couch. His plate gets set down on the coffee table.

"What'll you have to drink?"

"Water."

She replies without looking up from the TV. With the same detachment, her hand lifts the fork to her mouth. Surprised at the amazingly tasty stir-fry Spike whipped up, her attention is finally drawn from the TV. It is then that she notices the second plate sitting on the coffee table. Spike walks back in, sets down one glass and one mug, and picks up the other plate. Her eyebrows knit in silent question. He looks at her and smirks.

"I was a bit peckish myself-wanted to try some of my dinner. I've got the blood right here as well. No need to waste away."

He punctuates his statement with a shrug and a lift of his mug. Willow's eyes light up, and she flashes him her teeth.

"The new things you learn everyday about our blond likes-to-bite friend."

They sit in contented, relaxed silence while each finished eating. When done, he takes her dish before she can get up and brings it into the kitchen. Although she continues to sit and watch the TV, her mind starts to work quickly. The wheels start turning, and green globes take on a glazed look. Lost in her own thoughts, she doesn't notice when Spike sits back down. Not one to be ignored, he starts to wave his hand in front of her face. Directly, she snaps back to herself.

"Where'd you go?"

"Oh, nowhere."

He raises a scarred eyebrow. Willow raises an eyebrow in return.

"Here."

Breaking the staring contest, Spike reaches for his leather duster. After ferreting around in the multitude of pockets finally, a pale hand returns with two bottles of nail polish: green and silver.

"Spike.?"

"What, Luv? It's time to get your nails done. You've never taken the time to pamper yourself so here we are now, and I'm going to make you."

"Fine."

He nods then dives back into his coat. This time he emerges with a nail file, base coat, top coat, and acrylic kit. Willow's jaw falls straight to her lap.

"Where.huh.what.?!"

Flabbergasted, Willow starts to hide behind her hair.

"How did you get all of this?"

"Slutty owed me a favor."

He gently closes her mouth and takes her right hand then begins.

"So you went to beautician school then did you?"

Without looking up or missing a beat Spike responds.

"Cor, no, Dru kept eating the bloody nail chits. Who do you think did her nails? Too much of a hassle to keep bringing in mortal girls so I learned. Nothing much else to do in the day and had to keep my princess happy."

"Oh."

"That's two for me. You're still at zero, Red."

"What?"

"Two new things about me you know. I haven't learned a bloody thing about you today." She closes her eyes for a while. A long time later she finally comes up with something and shouts it out.

"I'm writing."

"Pet.I already know that."

"I know that, but what you didn't know is I switched into some writing classes. I'm not going to change majors, but I'm going to pick up a minor in it. I'm taking your advice."

She gives him a wink. He starts to paint the deep sparkling emerald polish on her newly elongated acrylic nails.

"Good, Red. It'll make you happy. Tell those daft twits you call friends?"

"Yes, Buffy, Xander, and I had a long talk about it. They were very supportive."

"I'm sure."

"Spike."

"Alright, Red, no need to get your dander up."

He moves to the left hand to coat them in the emerald polish. He holds her hands securely in his right while his left deftly completes its task. Eyes as brilliant as the polish watch rapt as he concentrates.

"You have such beautiful hands."

As she realizes that the thought slipped out, he face turns as red as the polish is green, and she ducks her head.

"Never knew, Luv. Or should I say LOVER?"

If it were possible, Willow's face deepens ten shades.

"You wish, Spikey, but remind me no more compliments for you."

A lower lip starts to puff out, and eyes start to droop.

"Oh NO! It's the puppy dog face!"

He continues to lower his eyes and puff his lip.

"Oh, fine. I only meant that you have nice long lean fingers. And they have that rough calloused feel of a worker or a writer. They're good hands."

"Sexy hands."

"Fine. Mr. I'm-a-five-year-old. They're as sexy as you want them to be."

The lip and the eyes retreat to their normal positions. He starts to add the silver tips to her right hand.

"You have the biggest ego."

He winks.

"Don't you know it, Luv. Now number two."

Again Willow's brow wrinkles in contemplation. Spike finishes the tips on her right hand and moves to the left. Next he adds the top coat laying her hands on his lower thighs to dry. She continues to think. Spike stares at her hands.

"You have lovely hands, too, Red."

"Oh?"

"Small and delicate but strong."

"Thank you."

He cheeks are a subtle shade of pink and her hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. Right before she reaches her locks, Spike catches the hand and places it back on his thigh.

"No need to mess up my handwork. Now come on, Luv. What else do I not know about you, sharing n'all. I've done a lot you've done not so much."

"How about a Xander story?"

"I have no need to know about the moron."

"No, no. From when we were little."

"Oh."

He sits for a moment drawing out her consternation for fun.

"Alright, Pet. I'll listen to a little Chubs and little Red story."

"Goody! Since it's Christmas. I'll tell you a Christmas story."

"I thought you were Jewish."

"Yes, at my house, but at Xander's I celebrated Christmas."

He nods. Wanting to be more comfortable, Willow scoots back into the couch, hands laid on her crossed legs. Spike takes the opposite end and props his legs on the coffee table. He then takes out a cigarette and his new lighter. Willow clears her throat just as he reaches up to light the end.

"Not around me."

"Bloody hell, Pet. Robbin' a guy of his chief amusement."

"If that's what amuses you chiefly then you've got serious problems. Now, either put that out or go outside so I can start."

Reluctantly, he tucks the death stick behind his ear and returns the Zippo to his pocket.

"Xander and I have been friends since we were five, and he stole my Barbie. That year he invited me over for Christmas. I was so excited because I had never gotten to celebrate Christmas. I even convinced my mom to take me to get Xander a GI Joe figurine. She complained the whole time about gender- specific toys and their role in the degradation of society and how modern Christmas was a mockery of the spirit in which it was created."

As Willow weaves her story, Spike sits rapt waiting for her every word. It's a rare gift that anyone sits down to have a real conversation with him. It never really even happened when he was human. Maybe it's all he ever wanted. Maybe if he had had a friend, things would have been so different. So he treasures this even more than the Zippo, her sharing of her self and time; her trust. Videos and chocolate forgotten Willow continues the story of her first Christmas, and they talk all night.

Early in the morning before Giles is due back, Willow gets up and stretches big. Spike follows suit.

"This is the point where you say 'Time to go back to the tub, Spike' isn't it, Pet?"

"I'm sorry, Spike. I have to. But I can try and come by tomorrow night and maybe we can do movies."

He moves towards the bathroom.

"Don't worry, Red. It was nice to get out for a few hours."

With a long face, she shackles him back into the tub doing everything she can to make him comfortable.

"Merry Christmas, Spike."

"Happy Hanukah or whatever, Pet."

She gives him a bright, warm smile then turns and leaves. As he hears the door to the apartment shut, the lingering sunshine invades his being, and he feels the warmth start to thaw just another bit of his heart.

})i({

Giles looks up from his ever present demonology book to see Xander, Anya, and Buffy walk in. He shakes his head at the mindless chatter and noise.

"When will you learn to kindly knock?"

"When you no longer heed the gentle reminder of our youth and vitality, G- man!"

Giles cringes at the use of Xander's nickname. The three friends shuffle in and take their seats. Each tries to avoid the other. No one wants to speak first. It falls to Giles as the oldest and most mature to broach the subject.

"First, I want to know if anyone is unwilling to support Willow. We need to hear it now because I will not have anything upsetting her during her pregnancy."

No one speaks. Each shifts uncomfortably under Giles's steely gaze.

"Good. She is going to need all the help we can give her, and lord knows we at least owe her that by virtue of all that she has done for each of us. She deserves the best we can give her. Now, I got a call early this morning from her, and she asked me to tell you she is at Spike's. Her parents forced her to leave, and we need to help her move out of her house. She is going to move into Spike's. I want you to get everything out of your systems before she gets here then not another word, another mean gesture. She feels safe with him, and they are friends. He can't and won't hurt her."

"We know Giles. But she can stay with us. I've known her longer. Anya and I can help her. She shouldn't put herself in the debt of the bleached wonder. I mean Spike? Yehhhh!" Xander shudders.

"No. She cannot stay with us. She would get in the way of our orgasms!"

"Xand, the basement is hardly roomy enough. Nor would you want to be stuck with a pregnant woman in those tight quarters."

"Buffy's right, and you have a job. She's going to need more attention than that not to mention a full time baby sitter."

"Uh, uh! No way! There is no way William the Blood is looking after my best friend's children! Between the four of us Will's got all the help she needs."

"Xander, calm down."

"No Buffy! I accepted the friendship despite his being soulless; at least Angel has a soul. But she's going to get herself hurt. And I won't sit by and watch her do it."

"Xander LaVelle Harris! You need to chill. I am going to say this once, and you will accept. I approve of this. Spike has changed. Willow has changed. Watch him sometime while she is in the room, and you will know he would give anything to keep her and now her children safe."

"He loves her."

Three faces snap to face Anya. Realization dawns on Giles's and Buffy's faces while confusing and anger mar Xander's. He gets up from the couch and starts to pace the room. Then his head snaps up suddenly.

"She loves him, too. Why can't my women fall in love with normal men?"

He sighs deeply.

"Xander it's ok. You've got to trust her judgment."

"I agree with you Buffy. Xander, Willow's judgment is sound. You need to trust your friend. You've known her the longest has she ever made a bad decision?"

He shakes his head.

"She's going to need you. You need to put your differences behind you and open yourself up to change. Just be there if anything happens and let her make her own mistakes."

"Yeah and give Deadboy Jr. one hell of a warning beating."

Xander defeated falls onto the couch next to Anya who takes him into her arms.

"I was a demon, and I changed. Stop being so close minded. Willow's friendship is enough to change anyone. I've never met anyone so compassionate and forgiving."

"Trust me, I know. I've been on the receiving end of it many times. I just worry. It's the manly need in me to protect her."

"We all feel it, Xand. Just channel it in to a healthy need to help."

He nods.

"Good, that's the only real reason I called you here this early. But while you're here let's do some preemptory research. Buffy will you call Willow and ask her to come over later with Spike."

Everyone collectively groans. Buffy gets up and walk over to the phone and dials Willow's number.

"Xander, I want to have a baby so I can get out of research."

"Anya.honey, NO!"

Xander pats his girlfriend's hand. With resignation, they take the books Giles hands them as Buffy sits back down.

"Wills will be here after sunset. She's going to class right, and I need to too. I leave you three to the musty fun that is demon researching."

She gives a quick wave and bounds out the door. The others settle in and start to read.

})i({

As the fog of sleep lifts, Spike opens his eyes. He without delay jumps back as far as the chains and the tub will let him when he is confronted with the face in front of him. A redhead sits with her head on her hands, warm green eyes boring into him.

"I never thought you'd wake-up. I've been staring at you for ten minutes."

"You could bloody well say my name instead of frightening a vampire near to life."

Willow smiles as he knew she would at his small joke.

"But that wouldn't be nearly as much fun."

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated fashion.

"So what new torture do you have for me today, Red?"

The laughter in his eyes belies the sour words.

"You my pet vampire get to go for a walk. I finagled the key out of Giles again in the strictest confidence that you would not escape, and I could control you."

"I'll be a good little puppy."

"So I brought over 'Clue' and 'The Game of Life' and some movies. You and me are stuck together all night."

"Stake me now!"

Again the big smile on his face contradicts his words. She reaches down to unshackle him, and he climbs out of the tub.

"Thanks, Red. What movies did you bring?"

"That Mr. Big Bad, is for me to know and you to find out."

She shoos him out the door by flipping her hands. Rubbing his sore wrists, Spike walks into the living room to sit down. Willow moves to the kitchen and pops a popcorn bag into the microwave. Next she fishes a few unmarked cassettes from her bag.

"One? Two? Or three?"

Spike's brows rise.

"Three."

She walks over and pushes the tape into the VCR. Before she sits down, the popcorn dings, and Willow goes to retrieve it.

"Blood or soda?"

"Does Ripper have a good beer?"

"No Spike! No imbibing! This is a completely dry evening of fun."

Spike sticks out his lip and bats his eye in a now much practiced pouting look. Willow's eyes narrow and her brows rise, and her mouth reduces to a thin line. Spike at once concedes to her 'Resolve Face'. With an exaggerated gesture he gives up and crosses his arms to pout.

"O-."

The microwave beeps again, and Willow removes the warm blood she stuck in, in the first place. As she settles herself in the couch armed with two mugs and popcorn, the opening credits start.

"Fight Club, Red?"

"Yup! It's got violence for you. Intellectual thinking for me. Not to mention yummy Brad Pitt!"

She makes a licking motion with her tongue at the TV while Spike cringes.

"That was bloody awful, Pet. No more tongue for you. Settle down and watch the movie. Oh, here's a napkin."

He pats her on the head and hands her the paper mess remover.

"Thank you."

"You know, Luv. For all the drool."

He mock wipes at his chin indicating the spit on her chin. Willow's fingers fly to her mouth to make sure it's clean. Once she finds her dry chin, she punches him on the shoulder.

"Hey! I do not drool!"

"Ow, Red. I bruise easily."

She arches a delicate eyebrow in response.

"Just be quiet. Good little vampires shouldn't talk during movies."

"But I'm not good, Pet."

Spike slings an arm over the couch to squeeze her shoulder. She rolls her eyes at him then settles in to watch the movie.

Two hours later finds Willow's head on a pillow in Spike's lap while his fingers run through her hair. Their familiarity leads them to the level of comfort that allows them to enjoy each other's company-a deep friendship forged quickly in the fire of hope and new maturity. Whatever power sped his change was found in the tenderness of her heart. There is no reason to hide from each other and no reason to be uncomfortable. The credits start to roll, and Willow sits up.

"I love that movie."

"It was bloody marvelous."

"Yes, it was bloody."

Willow starts to giggle.

"Pet, you are entirely too taken with giggling."

He does his best to keep from smiling . "Laughter is good for the soul. I guess that's why you have a bad sense of humor!"

Willow jumps up, grabs the dishes, and heads to the kitchen. Sticking his tongue at her, Spike stares at her retreating form. He catches an unfamiliar rhythm in the room. Cocking his head, he extends his hearing to pick it up better. After a few minutes, it dawns on him that it is coming from the girl cleaning the kitchen. The red headed witch has three heart beats. The implications of her triple beat quickly form in his mind. He does the best to try and hide the shock and surprise from his features when she walks back in with a board game.

"You ready, William the Bloody, to play 'The Game of Life?'"

He looks at her and smiles sadly.

"No, Luv, are *you* ready for life?"

})i({

Angelus stumbles up the stairs and into Spike and Dru's room. Seeing his sire's distress, Spike pushes Dru off of his lap and jumps out of the wing back chair. Crumpled against a wall, Angelus starts to look around frantically.

"Angelus.?"

"She kicked me out.she kicked me out."

Spike grabs his forearms and shakes him hard trying to get his sire to look at him. Angelus refuses to meet his blonde childe's eyes for shame and desperately tries to shrug him off. When he can't accomplish that, his eyes dart from one thing to another-anything but Spike.

"Who? Darla? What did Darla do?"

Suddenly, Spike catches Angelus's eyes.

"She doesn't like his shinny new soul."

Spike's head spins to Dru.

"What Dru?"

"His soul. Those gypsies took our daddy away."

Spike turns back and looks deeply into chocolate brown eyes.

"No."

Finally, Angelus can no longer hold himself up and crumbles completely into a heap on the floor, partially in his childe's arms. Dru climbs into the chair and starts to rock herself back and forth. Spike draws his sire close and starts to mirror Dru's behavior. Both brunette vampires begin to mutter to themselves. Refusing to see his sire in pain, Spike whispers in Angelus's ear.

"S'alright, Angelus. Dru and I'll take you away from the bitch. We'll find some way to get rid of it."

Angelus starts to moan.

"No. Can't take the soul. I can't kill. I've killed so much.so many.hurts."

"Ok, ok. We'll figure out something."

A single blood tear begins to well in Spike's eye then spills over to his cheek. He doesn't know what to say so he starts to coo to calm his sire. He looks over to Dru for support, but she is as usual lost in her own world. Glancing back down, Spike doesn't know how to help Angelus. He's never lost his sire.

"My sire.she doesn't want me.can't stand me."

"Daddy's an angel now. He doesn't like to eat the nice little girls anymore. There's a light in his eyes. He shimmers and shines. He's not a bad daddy anymore."

"Dru, will you be quiet? Angelus, come on, get some things together. We'll leave. You, me, and Dru. We'll go back to France or Spain. We'll work something out. Let's just get away from Darla."

Angelus lifts his head from Spike's lap and looks around as if for the first time really seeing where he is. Realization dawns in his eyes. Violently, he pushes away from Spike and gets to his feet.

"No, you're killers. I can't be around you.I shouldn't be around you."

He starts to edge toward the door, and Spike is up in a minute following.

"No, Angelus, stay with us. Let us help you."

"Never, I don't want you. You're monsters."

And then he was gone, down the stairs and out the door. Spike tries calling out to him, but his sire doesn't come back. Spike bounds back up the stairs and into his room.

"Dru get you stuff together. We're leaving. I'll show him monsters. He wants a monster for a childe then I'll give him one."

An unholy gleam lights Spike's eyes as he throws a still distraught and mumbling Drusilla toward her armoire. In the wake of his sire's rejection, a new Spike is born.

})i({

"She's still shadowing you."

"No, Pet. No, Dru. I left it all for you. We came here for you."

"No, Spikey. She's still there-a fiery shadow that won't leave you. You don't love your black goddess anymore, your princess. She's invaded you-all green life and flame. There's no more room for me in there."

She taps his forehead and then his heart, Spike vehemently shakes his head.

"No, Dru. I left it all behind in Sunnydale. You kicked me out, but I still came back. I came back."

"No, Spike. You ran away."

Spike collapses on the ground sobbing. In a moment of clarity, Drusilla lowers herself to the ground and pulls the broken vampire into her lap. The protected becomes the protector; the needy becomes the needed. She whispers sweet calming words as her mumbles and cries.

"From what. from what.from what?"

"Her, Spikey, go back and find your fire goddess."

Abruptly, Spike pulls himself up and hastily wipes his eyes. Dru looks up expectantly at him. He hesitates a moment then turns and takes off. Drusilla sits there staring after him and shaking her head.

})i({ })i({