Spike was slumped against a tree in the backyard when Willow finally
deigned to come outside. She'd certainly made her bloody point. He hadn't
been able to get the damn wood out of his chest. Nothing had worked.
Finally he'd given up, realizing she'd done something to make it impossible
to remove.
He'd been tempted to stroll--okay, stumble, into the house and demand that she undo it, but thought better of it. Angel would know, just know, that Spike had done something to force her hand, and that wouldn't do at all.
From her parting words, he assumed she'd put it right sometime near dawn, but he hadn't thought she'd wait so long. The bloody sun was going to rise in twenty minutes.
Pushing away from the tree with a muttered curse, he slowly and painfully crossed the small yard. He made a small uncomfortable sound when the movements caused the wood to shift, and she noticed him. The blood drained from her face and she started trembling.
Oh, hell, he hadn't expected this, and he should have. Par for the course tonight, it seemed. She'd managed to surprise him twice now.
"Get this thing out of me," Spike growled from behind clenched teeth, "then indulge yourself."
A quick wave of her hand and Spike could feel his body ease its grip on the wood. Before he could reach up and finally yank the damn thing out of his chest, she had already done so from a distance. There were stars in his eyes as he fell to his knees and grabbed at his chest. When much of the pain faded, he smelled blood.
He lifted his head and saw Willow several feet away, holding a mug. She looked upset and hesitant. "Bring it here," Spike told her. "I won't bite." She frowned and he shook his head. "Lesson's well and truly over, pet. Promise."
She brought him more blood when he finished that, and then sat in front of him. Her hands clamped around handfuls of grass and wrenched them from the earth.
"Impressive all around," Spike grunted. "Nice touch to leave me to stew in my own juices."
She looked like she was going to puke, but Spike did nothing, said nothing. He'd lied, really. Lesson wasn't over just yet.
"I-I-I don't know what came over me," she whimpered.
"Survival instinct," he said bluntly. "Always knew you had one in there somewhere."
"It was cruel," she continued, eyes wide and blank. "Cruel and-and-and awful and I'm sorry."
Spike considered Willow's distressed form for a while. "Come on," he finally said casually. "I all but asked for it."
Her head swiveled back and forth almost crazily. "No, I baited you into coming at me *just* so I could do that," she cried out.
"And you had *no* reason to do that, now did you?" Spike drawled sarcastically. She opened her mouth, but he glared at her and she shut it again. "This was entirely my fault, no matter what you think."
"I set you up to take that plank in the chest!" Willow cried out, breathing raggedly. "How can you possibly say that's your fault?"
"Because I should have known you'd do it," Spike said honestly. "Shouldn't have been trying to teach you a lesson without knowing how it would go." He shook his head and smiled wryly. "Based the scenario on how you would have reacted a month ago. I think I got off easy, all things considered."
"You think this was just a lesson?" she asked quietly, her eyes boring into him. "Spike, what I did to you--" She shook her head. "I never would have thought I could do something like that. But I did. And you're acting so-so- so casual about it."
"You think we just have to protect you here and now?" Spike asked her intently. "You think we don't have to take into consideration what happens after all of this?" He shook his head. "As much as I'd like you to be easily duped by me later on, I can't let you be. What would have happened if I'd been going after you for real?"
She shook her head and pulled her hands from the grass she'd mangled. "You'd have bitten me. Killed me," she whispered.
"If I was feeling generous," he said bluntly, and she flinched.
He watched her process that, turn it over and study it from every angle, and he saw the knowledge come into her that she might have just wished he'd killed her quickly.
"But I don't understand how I could have *done* that," she maintained weakly.
"Just get over that already, will you?" Spike snapped crossly. "You've been living with vampires for how long now? Only natural for it to have a temporary effect on you."
Her eyes glinted briefly. "Temporary?"
Spike snorted. "Yeah, temporary." Her brow knitted and her eyes began to clear. "No hard feelings on my part."
"I'm still sorry," she ventured.
"Don't be," he dismissed. "Now can we get in the damn house? There's about three minutes until the ball of light comes out and burns me to a crisp."
They went inside and upstairs. Willow stopped him when he would have gone into Dev's room. "Now that we're clear about where we'll stand after this," she ventured hesitantly, her eyes averted, "could we maybe just, uh, go back to being friendly again?"
Spike stilled and looked away from her trembling hands and weary eyes. He'd wanted to make sure she wouldn't be susceptible to him later on; he'd been obligated to do so.
The ease with which she'd hardened herself during their encounter had initially pleased him. Then she'd left him, with that wood glued to his insides and the pain damn near enough to make him pass out once or twice. She'd just gone back home and she hadn't thought a thing about it until she'd been faced with him again hours later. That hadn't pleased him. That edge that had shown itself, that viciousness that had appeared...that had troubled him.
Dru had said everything was shifting in Willow, and Spike had seen that tonight firsthand. Whether it was a shift that she needed to get through what Dru saw coming, or whether it would be her undoing, he didn't know.
He'd explained her actions away to calm her but he didn't really believe the excuse. Not deep down. No, some part of him knew that it *was* the quiet ones, the good ones, that one had to watch out for. Always had the darkest sides to them. He was a prime example of that, wasn't he? Oh, yes.
"Yeah, sure," Spike told her softly.
She smiled, relieved, and went into her room. Spike felt his face settle into blank lines as he entered Dev's room. Though it was Dru's shift with Dev, Angel was in there as well. Both were on the bed, and Angel looked up when he stepped into the room, his eyes zeroing in on the bloody mess that was Spike's shirt and chest.
Spike studiously ignored him as he stripped to his waist and wordlessly put his portion into the copper bowl. After Dev was fed, Dru kissed her forehead and crossed to Spike. Her eyes met his and she smiled somewhat sadly, her hand brushing his cheek before she left the room.
Angel was there when he turned around, gaze inscrutable as he stared at Spike. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that Willow didn't get bored and ask you to walk her back earlier."
Spike didn't say anything.
"Tread carefully," Angel warned softly.
***
It took a couple of days for Willow to relax around Spike again, and he wasn't very helpful in facilitating it. Generally he studied her with a probing gaze that made her skin itch and caused her to leave the room. She didn't want to see the knowledge of what she'd done in his eyes, even if it wasn't actually there.
She'd decided he was right in his assessment of what had happened; she'd simply gotten caught up in the vampire state of mind. No problem. She just wouldn't let it happen again. Period. End of story. If there was any doubt in her mind about that, it was pushed aside along with every other thought of what she'd done. Far aside. Like, hidden deep in the back of her head. Period. End of story.
He was staring at her again, and Willow had to curl her hands into fists so that she wouldn't start scratching at her arms. She was just about to flee the living room when Dru growled something at Spike in a language that definitely wasn't English. Dru had begged Angel to take her shift with Dev and was sitting beside Willow on the sofa.
Spike's eyes finally left Willow, to stare at Dru in surprise. He said something back to her, and then frowned at the response he got.
They were talking about her. Of course they were. She started to rise again, but Dru's hand was on her arm. "It's all right, precious," she cooed. "The paths are winding and circular, yet linear and absolute." Willow frowned and shook her head in confusion. Dru's dark eyes glittered delightedly and she took her hand from Willow's arm and ran her fingers along her neck. "Spike is so very loyal."
Willow looked at Spike, hoping for a translation or enlightenment about what Dru was saying, but Spike just rolled his eyes and twisted his lips. "Just tell her to be quiet," he suggested indulgently. "She'll ramble on like that all night if you let her. It's cute at first, but that doesn't last."
Dru pouted and leaned her head on Willow's shoulder, peering up at her with baleful eyes. "You don't find me tiresome, do you, precious?" she asked cutely.
Willow's lips twitched. Faced with that countenance, what could she say but, "No, Dru, I don't."
"See," Dru crowed happily. "Precious adores me."
Spike pointed a finger at Willow. "Now you've gone and done it," he said drolly. "Won't ever get a moment's peace again."
His eyes were light and open, and Willow looked at them for a long time before she realized that things had somehow morphed back to normal again. At least, she thought so. A moment later, the thought was confirmed when Spike winked at her.
She smiled goofily, and Spike's lips quirked before Dru garnered his attention again and the night passed normally. Or, for what passed for normal lately, what with living with four vampires.
Willow still had a bounce in her step when she turned in for the day, though getting woken up by Angel before dusk wasn't what she'd been expecting.
For a moment she just stared at the cell phone Angel held out to her, then she took it and put it to her ear. Wesley apologized profusely for waking her, then went on to say that he wouldn't be able to get any useful information any time soon.
"The entry you asked me to focus on first," he explained, "comes from a rather rare text. The Hwopf Compendium. I'm working on obtaining a copy of it from some, er, sources, but it'll take time."
"Oh. Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about that," she said with a shrug. "In the meantime, can you--"
"We're already working on some of the other entries," Wesley assured her. "Again, I don't think I'll be calling in a few hours with the answers."
Of course not. Why should anything about any of this come quickly? Once again Wesley promised to keep her updated, leaving Willow to chew her lip and consider their options. Sure, they could wait around while Wesley looked into everything. But that took time, and they weren't even sure if the attack on Dev had had anything to do with the Analects. Could be they were just wasting time with that avenue of investigation.
Trouble was, they didn't have any other avenues to explore. Willow wandered into the bathroom to shower, her thoughts racing as she washed her hair. From what Spike and Angel had told her, Dev hadn't been very forthcoming about anything in her life. For all they knew, some scorned lover was at the heart of the matter.
Willow's hands stilled in the process of threading conditioner through her hair. They needed Dev. Conscious and talking. A lot sooner than a few weeks from now. She'd be able to suggest other options for them to look into, if not actually come out and tell them who'd done this to her.
She spent the rest of her shower figuring out how to get that accomplished.
***
Recent events had the effect of making Spike several shades of irritable. Dev had always maintained that inaction was intolerable to him when something was on his mind. "You've got to be fucking or fighting," she'd laughed. "Can't just sit down and think about anything."
Considering that she'd been completely correct in her assessment, it wasn't surprising that he picked a fight with Angel a couple of nights later.
It started as a silly argument and quickly spun out of control. Angel dragged him into the kitchen and threw open the basement door. Spike got a glimpse of Willow's tight face before Angel tossed him down the concrete steps.
It hurt every time he knocked against the cement, and when he finally came to a stop, the pain continued by way of Angel's foot landing a kick to his ribs. Something cracked.
Spike stared up at Angel blankly, and the other vampire paused in the middle of another kick, this one aimed at his face. The anger in Angel's eyes faded away to a glittering nothingness.
"No," he hissed disgustedly and lowered his foot. The light from the kitchen blinded Spike when Angel retreated up the steps.
He stayed where he was, concertedly not thinking about what had and hadn't just happened, or why. The light was blocked again. Hesitant footfalls on the steps. Backlit red surrounding shadows.
Willow stopped a few steps above his inelegant sprawl and sat. "Rah-rah-sis- boom-bah," she deadpanned.
Spike snorted and pushed himself into a sitting position. "Go team go," he returned dryly.
"You know, I feel a kinship with those National Geographic guys, now," Willow mused, and Spike heard the bit of humor that tinged her words. "Cohabitating with vampires and learning all sorts of nifty things about them that I never knew." She tilted her head. "Maybe I should write an anonymous account of it all and send it to the Watchers. Shed new light on an old favorite."
"I doubt they'd be interested unless you were passing on new ways to kill us," he sighed. He ran a hand over his face and tried to get his head in order. "So what did this--" He gestured at himself. "--teach you that you never knew before?"
Willow shrugged and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and then resting her chin in her hands. "I don't even know what this--" She echoed his own gesture "--was, so I can't say."
"Yeah, well, you're not alone in that."
"Wanna go out?"
Spike started, then stared at her. "What?"
She chuckled. "Out. As in, some place other than this house," she teased him. "I'm getting a little claustrophobic," she admitted. "Since I'm not allowed to go anywhere alone, I'm choosing you as the lesser of three evils."
Which was saying a lot, considering what had occurred on their last outing. He'd have thought she'd stay in the house for the rest of her life before willingly going anywhere with him alone again.
"I put Angel in a mood, did I?" Spike asked knowingly, and Willow nodded emphatically. "And you still don't trust Dru."
She surprised him by denying that. "I know that she won't knowingly hurt me," Willow countered slowly. "I think it's more probable that she'll decide to go on a murder spree, and I don't have your or Angel's knack for keeping her under control."
Spike was interested. Getting out of the soddin' house would probably do him good. "What did you have in mind?" he asked cautiously, crossing his fingers that she wouldn't suggest anything that involved him listening to talentless losers singing.
Some hint of his suspicions must have been on his face, because an impish light appeared in Willow's eyes. "Well, I was thinking of karaoke." She grinned at Spike's shudder. "Pool, then?"
A brow lifted dubiously. "Can you even play pool?"
"Not even a little," she chirped.
The lack of concern in her voice and the enthusiasm in her eyes made his lips twitch for some odd reason. He hauled himself to his feet and stared down at her. "Nothing better going on," he said diffidently. "Might as well."
Willow got to her feet, just two steps above him, and it put her neck at his eye level. Her throat was bared by the v-necked orange shirt that she wore and Spike found that he was staring.
"Never thought I'd *prefer* a man to be staring at my breasts," she drawled sarcastically.
It was like telling someone not to think of pink elephants, wasn't it? Spike was suddenly focused on her breasts without having made the decision to do so. The soft material of her shirt made her breasts look vine- ripened, the tightness of it drawing attention to them and inviting a touch, or a lick, but just begging for a bite.
She went still, her muscles locking up and her breath catching at the same moment that her heart paused for one dramatic second...and there was nothing to distract Spike from the sound of blood rushing under her skin, and the moment seemed to linger around them, ticking by like an eon while Spike practically drowned.
Then Willow sucked in a breath and even the swelling tide that lifted her chest for further inspection--even that wasn't enough to prevent the eon from ending, because her heart was racing now, and she was fidgeting nervously while she stumbled up a step backwards.
"Um, I didn't mean--and if--you didn't--I'm going upstairs now," she choked out, turning away and dashing up the steps.
Spike grabbed hold of the flimsy wooden railing with one hand and braced the other on the wall next to him. "Bloody fuck," he hissed.
He was in serious trouble here. Because right then the only thing he wanted to do was give chase after his prey, pin her to the most convenient horizontal--hell, or even vertical--surface, and go to town. And it was the first time he'd even remotely thought of Willow sexually.
With an angry growl, Spike stood up straight and let go of the railing and wall. No. Absolutely not. He was just horny, was all. He'd been so ever since the family had unanimously gone platonic. Add to that what he'd been expecting to happen after Angel threw him down the stairs...hell, even the damn Slayer would have elicited that reaction at that particular moment.
All right. Good. He forced himself to relax and when the urge to pursue Willow had eased, he made his way up to the kitchen. Angel was leaning against a counter, hands tucked into his pockets and a considering expression on his face.
"You obviously don't want my advice on whatever's got your head all screwed up," he said bluntly, and Spike froze. "Fine. But you are damned well going to at least tell me what it is, and soon. It's making you unpredictable and rash." A smile ghosted across his lips. "And, next time? Just tell me you're in the mood for a fight; this kind of drama is for fledglings."
Spike laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Right."
"I'm ready," Willow said as she walked into the room, still wearing the same shirt. Spike grinned, and her eyes glittered defiantly. The grin slid into a smirk.
"I'm not going to ask you two to check in every half hour," Angel began, "but I want you back here before three. Understood?"
Spike rolled his eyes while Willow nodded sedately.
"And that means both of you," Angel continued firmly, staring at Willow. She lowered her eyes and flushed. "Willow, listen to Spike about cautionary measures. Don't second guess or argue with him."
"Hey!" she sputtered. "Why does he get to be in charge?"
"Because he's got preternatural strength and senses," Angel snapped. He pointed one finger at her, and Spike stifled a snicker. "That's exactly the kind of thing that I'm talking about. You convinced me to let you two go out, and you'll adhere to the rules."
Spike's brows flew up. Convinced? Yeah, probably Angel hadn't been too keen on them being out unsupervised again.
Willow tightened her lips but finally nodded at Angel's directive. His eyes swung to Spike. "She's going to be your impulse control tonight."
"What?" Spike shouted. "I don't need some little girl telling me what I can or can not do. I'm over a century old and I'm perfectly capable of--"
"Acting rationally?" Angel finished sarcastically, looking meaningfully at the basement door. Spike ground his teeth together. Bloody Hell. "Her words are mine tonight, unless your safety is at issue."
"Fine. Whatever," he hissed.
Willow's hand raised into the air and Spike clenched his hands into fists.
"Um, will one of you translate, please?" she ventured hesitantly, her brow wrinkled.
Angel kept his eyes on Spike as he answered her. "Keep him from doing anything stupid."
The temptation to pitch a fit was strong, but Spike figured that wasn't going to help his case any. So he curled his lip at Angel and folded his arms across his chest.
Willow's face cleared. "Oh." The frown returned. "How?"
"Tell him to shut up or stop as needed," Angel explained, finally looking away from Spike.
"Yeah, right, cause that'll work," Willow scoffed.
"He has to answer to me if it doesn't."
She appeared to process that for a moment, then her eyes grew round and she looked from Angel, to Spike, then at the floor. "Might as well stay in now," she mumbled. "He's gonna be nasty to me all night."
Angel looked like he wanted to beat one or both of them right then. "I don't care what you decide," he all but growled. "But those are the rules. Maybe if the two of you had been able to take a simple walk without an incident then this wouldn't be necessary, but you couldn't. So stop complaining and deal with it."
With that, he stormed out of the room.
"Giles is much better at chastising," Willow said stiffly.
"Yeah," Spike agreed, "but Angel is lot better at violence."
***
From the upstairs window, Angel watched as Willow and Spike made their way down the walk to the van and drove away.
"My Angel worries so," Drusilla murmured next to him. "As well he should. They're bookends, aren't they. Which one will topple to the floor and break?"
"Let's hope neither of them," Angel replied, taking her arm and leading her back to Dev's side. "Sit with her, Dru."
He wandered downstairs and stood in the doorway of the living room. It was Willow and Spike terrain, undeniably. Her laptop had taken up permanent residence on the coffee table, and several pairs of her discarded socks were scattered on the couch; she hated walking around barefoot, but once she was sitting she always stripped the socks from her feet, he'd noticed.
On the table next to Spike's usual chair was an ashtray filled almost to capacity, and a dismantled lamp--Spike claimed it was too bright for his eyes, but someone had kept turning it on, so he'd torn the thing apart. There were also several cigarette burns on the carpet in front of the chair that had caused Willow to completely write off their security deposit.
In the middle of the floor sat a Cribbage board, a deck of cards, and a bowl of pennies. The latter was because Spike had insisted to Willow that playing Cribbage without betting was akin to sacrilege. They'd played their first game earlier and Spike had wiped the floor with her.
The house was eerily silent without them, and while Angel was grateful for that, he was also troubled at their absence because he didn't know just what might happen tonight.
The tension that had developed between Spike and Willow after their "walk" had dissipated. Not that he had any idea about what had happened that night. Willow had been guarded when she'd returned only half an hour after she'd left. She'd also been distracted in an odd way. Not like there were other things on her mind, but like there was nothing on her mind and she wanted to keep it that way.
And Spike hadn't been forthcoming either. Angel had taken one look at him and known that nothing short of serious violence would pull it out of Spike. He'd considered it for a moment, then decided that it wouldn't be wise to take things to that extreme.
It had made him hesitant to allow them to venture out again, but he'd noted that since the incident, the two were looking at one another more directly, with fewer misconceptions in their eyes. Harder, more telling looks that packed less punches than they ever had before. Quite possibly it signaled the first step to them stripping away their one-dimensional personas.
He still hadn't decided whether that would be a good or horrendous thing, and obviously the stars weren't telling Dru, either, if her "bookends" comment was anything to go by.
Angel fidgeted and went back upstairs. Did they even realize that they were spending almost every moment of their free time together?
He could count on one hand the number of conversations he and Willow, and he and Spike, had had since arriving at the house. He'd need about eight more hands to count the ones between Willow and Spike, though. As for Dru, she tended to join Angel during his shift with Dev, do her own shift, then sleep before joining him again. Every once in a while she'd switch it up, but rarely. Spike obviously wasn't spending much time with her, and probably didn't even notice.
"Should I have told him what I did?" Dru whispered shakily to him when he entered Dev's room again. She was lying next to Dev, her hands buried in their childe's hair and her eyes uneasy.
Angel shrugged and took off his belt before climbing into bed on the other side of Dev. "Depends. What did you tell him?"
"She was itchy in her skin," Dru said smally. "Poor precious. So ignorant of what's inside her that she'd rip herself open just to know. I told him not to foreswear her. Told him he mustn't do so. But now I'm not sure. Nothing will stay still."
Her eyes met his and he sighed, reaching across Dev to cup her cheek in his palm. "They don't know themselves, Drusilla," he said softly as she nuzzled his hand. "Makes it impossible to glean anything beyond the here and now."
"Yet they each know the other," she mused, frowning delicately.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that."
Dru nodded. "Oh, but they do, dearest Angel. They do. And that's what frightens them."
***
Her pool skills were so horrendous that Spike had almost choked on his tongue during her first shot, where she came only a quarter of an inch away from ripping felt from the table. So the pool cue had been removed from her hands and shoved at some git or other who was waiting for a turn.
"Game's on us," Spike had told him, dragging Willow into the bar area of the tavern they were at.
"I'm really that bad?" Willow asked, nose scrunched up in disbelief.
"Worse," Spike confirmed, waving the waitress over. Willow got an iced tea, and he asked for two beers.
She looked pointedly the beers, but didn't say anything, which instantly roused his suspicions. Spike narrowed his eyes and brought his cigarette to his lips, studying her as she dumped five sugars into her tea. There wouldn't have been time for her to convince Angel to let them go out after she'd fled the basement. She had to have done it before that, and had mislead him into thinking otherwise. And she hadn't changed her mind about going out with him despite the scene with Angel, what had happened in the basement, or the rules Angel had imposed.
"You want to do something, don't you?" he guessed.
Her brows knitted. "Um, yeah. Hence the doing."
Cutting a hand through the air, he leaned back and shook his head. "Pet, I've been dealing with vampire politics about four times longer than you've been alive," he stated. "Just come out with it, will you?"
A burst of red exploded across her face. "I didn't even start yet," she mumbled.
He smirked. "So you want me to back you on something, do you? Go on, let's hear it."
She was suddenly very busy stirring her tea into submission. "I was thinking that I could maybe lower my shield, and convince Dev to put hers up again. Then, maybe try to track the leeches on Dev back to whoever--"
"No." She opened her mouth and Spike continued before she could say anything. "And don't even waste your breath on another word because it's too dangerous. All you could end up doing is leading them right back to us."
"But you said yourself that you're tired of not doing anything," Willow argued stubbornly. "And this would be doing something."
Spike barked out a laugh of disbelief. "I'm all for jumping in headfirst, yeah, but even I understand that we still have no bleedin' idea what's going on, not mention who or what's behind it."
"I could make it one way," she insisted, leaning forward. "They wouldn't be able--"
"Are you one-hundred percent positive they couldn't track it back?" he cut in, knowing what the answer would be.
Her eyes flickered uncomfortably. "No," she admitted, "but--"
'No," Spike snapped, sipping his beer. "And don't think Angel's answer will be any different."
She tossed her spoon onto the table with a clatter and glared at him. "Then why am I even here?" she exploded. "To vacuum?"
"You're here because of Dru's vision," he reminded her irritably. "You got those bastards off our tail and now Dev can heal."
"So you're saying that we continue to do nothing."
"We wait," Spike said succinctly. "And we hope that moron comes up with something soon."
"And if he doesn't?" Willow asked disgustedly. "If he can't get anything useful out of the information from the database, then we just spend the next month twiddling our thumbs until Dev wakes up?"
"Lay off, already," Spike hissed. "You're not the only one who isn't exactly in love with the situation; just the only one whining about it."
Her chin set and Spike closed his eyes, begging for patience. "Spike, I'm sure that I--"
His hand slammed down on the table and their drinks rattled and tipped precariously. "I said no," he shouted.
Willow slunk back in her seat and sighed miserably. "What about the healing spell?" she asked sarcastically. "Or is that something else we shouldn't do since it might help."
"I'd back you on that, but not the other."
"Good. That's settled then," she said quietly.
Spike blinked and learned forward. Her head was ducked and--was she smiling? She was.
"You little shit," he breathed.
"I have no idea what you mean," Willow said smoothly, but her smile was getting wider.
"You tossed up a smoke screen," he accused. "Started with something stupid so that I'd agree to what you really wanted to do. Damn, why didn't I see that?"
Willow took a sip of her tea and regarded him with laughing eyes. "Well, hypothetically, that would be because you decided before we had the conversation that I sucked at this."
"Yeah," he laughed, crushing out his cigarette and staring at her.
Her index finger traveled the rim of her glass. "Would it work on Angel?"
"Hypothetically?" he mocked, and she nodded. "No. But we might have a shot if we just propose the healing spell. As long as you can convince him there won't be any danger of us getting tracked."
"There won't be," she said with certainty. "That, I'm positive about. Completely."
He finished his beer and started on his second. "Okay, let's talk strategy then."
***
Angel spent an hour listening to Willow and Spike. Actually, Spike had only spoken for five of the sixty minutes, and had mainly just reminded Angel of how much time had passed, and how little progress they'd made. For the other fifty-five minutes, Angel had listened to Willow show off debating skills gained during her discussions with Spike as she laid out why she should do the healing spell on Dev.
He now had a new reason to not want them going anywhere together alone; they had ganged up on him.
Willow was still talking, standing in the center of the room with index cards--and Spike had really gotten a kick out of those--and putting everything she had into convincing Angel. Spike was sprawled on his chair, Dru on the floor beside him with her head resting on his thigh.
Angel stood in the doorway and wondered just when he'd lost control of the pair, then decided that he'd never really had control of them to begin with.
"Stop," Angel said, holding up a hand. Willow's mouth snapped shut. "Your presentation was impressive," he commented dryly and she beamed. "You think the results will be different this time?"
She nodded. "The only reason there was a problem last time was because she was protecting herself. I can slide under my shield and do it without a problem."
Knowing that she'd probably suggested this to Spike the night before last, when they'd gone out, and that Spike would have had more time to think on it, Angel turned to him. "And the risks?"
Spike shrugged. "Worst case: same thing happens. Big deal. But you're on puke duty."
Angel ignored the comment and turned to the other occupant of the room. "Dru?"
She lifted her head from Spike's knee and blinked lazily. "Our Devil has slept long enough," she told him. "Her mind is beginning to grow restless."
Angel's eyes narrowed. "Have you tried getting in again?"
"I couldn't," Dru replied with a pout in Willow's direction. "Precious' magic is too strong for me."
"I went ahead and called Wesley," Willow interjected, rifling through her cards. "He says that according to his--"
"Stop," Angel said again, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "We'll do it."
***
Willow was able to push and prod Angel into letting her perform the healing spell that night, and though she knew it had worked, there wouldn't be an immediate change in Dev's condition.
After washing the ointment from herself, Willow changed into her pajamas and wandered downstairs. Spike was in the living room already, and looked up when she came in. Willow fought against a blush with all her might. Spike seemed to have forgotten about what had happened in the basement. And thank god for small favors, because if he actually starting talking about it, or teasing her about it, or referring to it at all, she might just die of embarrassment.
She chose to pretend that it had never happened. Yet she still felt like it was there between them now. On her part, at any rate. Sure, the lighting had been bad, but she had mostly seen the look in his eyes when he'd been staring at her chest. It had been...hot. Hotter than any other set of eyes that had looked at her. Hot enough to make her forget--just for an instant-- that he was Spike and she was Willow. To her mind, that was one instant too many.
A voice in the back of her head thought it was hysterical. Because those pseudo-lusty glances she'd tossed his way when they'd played their game in Giles' living room? Not so pseudo. And there'd been an actual reason she'd gotten so upset when he'd turned on them that night and left Sunnydale, and it hadn't been simply because she'd hoped he wouldn't eventually chafe at the blackmail. But, hey, she was ignoring it all.
That didn't stop her from noticing things though. Like the fact that he was currently sprawled on the couch in an artful pose that she knew was half- purposeful and half-negligent. The purposeful part wasn't anything to do with her, she knew. That was just Spike. Sensual creature of the night to the end, able to make watching television seem like something out of one of those "For Mature Audiences Only" movies on Cinemax.
He was probably only partially aware of how the position stretched the material of his shirt across his chest, and how his cocked knee drew the eye to a rather...intimate portion of his anatomy. Willow was more than partially aware though.
"Not looking so hot," Spike commented, frowning.
And this time she did blush, because of course he would comment on how drab and icky looking she was at the exact moment when she'd been eyeing him up like a piece of chocolate.
But she stuck stringently to her path: ignore everything.
"I'm just tired," Willow said around a yawn. "Why are you sitting on the sofa?"
"Spilled my dinner all over the damn chair," he groused. Willow looked at the cushion, but didn't see any sign of blood. "I flipped it over, and I don't want to hear any more mamby-pamby complaining about the security deposit," he growled. "You're living with vampires."
"Fine, fine," she conceded, sighing hugely. "It's just my credit rating that gets slammed. Nothing major or anything." Spike made an obscene gesture with his hand and she rolled her eyes. "Make some room on the couch, would you?"
Grumbling, he pulled himself into a sitting position and swung his legs around. "Just put your damn socks over there with the others." He pointed to the side of the sofa where a pile of footwear sat. "They were starting to get ripe."
Ignoring him, Willow sat on the opposite end of the sofa and stripped the socks from her feet, dutifully dropping them with the others when Spike stared pointedly at her. At least he made it easy to be distracted by his annoying personality.
"Can we not have any discussions tonight?" Willow requested, watching him narrow his eyes. "I'm so not up to it."
"You always this tired?" Spike asked with surprise.
"Huh? No, but casting the spell while keeping the shield up...not so easy," she informed him with a shrug.
"Not just talking about tonight, Willow," he said, flipping the channel.
"Stress, I think," Willow dismissed. "I mean, the stress in Sunnydale? Way higher on the spectrum, but much more short-lived."
"Well, you're in luck then." She frowned, knowing by now what that careful tone of voice meant--one jerky comment coming up. "Listened to you blabber on enough for one night. Sent us all catatonic earlier."
And, really, that was rather tame, all things considered, so Willow shrugged and turned away so that he wouldn't see her smile. "Got the job done, didn't I? Now pick something to watch already." She tilted her head. "Preferably something fluffy and stupid."
She got what she asked for. In spades. Though she was tempted to complain when Spike came across some old Cheech and Chong movie and left it on, technically she had asked for it. Then she discovered that she was so tired that only every tenth line of dialogue seemed to register, and she grinned at having denied Spike the pleasure of irritating her.
She didn't remember falling sleep, just waking up. With her head on Spike's thigh. He was laughing uproariously, and no doubt his shaking form had woken her. She should move. Sit up and scoot away as she'd done the other times she'd woken up on him. But she didn't.
His thigh was solid under her head. It was reassuring to her, that strength. Right now, she had nothing to fear from. She needed this, she realized sleepily. Needed to be able to relax knowing that someone else would keep her safe, knowing that she could entirely let go of every single guard and not get killed for it.
When was the last time she'd felt this at ease? Not since she was sixteen. And unlike the scene in the basement, she couldn't even think it strange that it was Spike--who had been a source of terror for her too many times to count--that was making her feel this way. Because due to the terms of the situation they were in, he would die for her. Die to keep her safe. Only, he wouldn't have to die. He was too strong, too capable--even with his impatience--to get taken out easily.
That knowledge took away the need to be on guard and didn't bring with it any guilt. He could take care of himself and of her and she didn't have to worry. Her eyes drifted shut again.
***
Spike felt the redhead slip back into sleep, and looked down: her head was on his lap and one of her small hands was gripping his knee. It had surprised him that she hadn't tensed and moved back to her side of the couch when she'd briefly woken up. Instead, she'd seemed to relax even further and she'd actually rubbed her fingers against his knee, almost like she'd been reassuring herself that he was indeed still there.
With every day that passed, he began to wonder if that last lesson had been necessary. Because he didn't think that he'd be going after her once this was over, and not because he had the feeling she might very well kick his ass if he did. No, the simple fact of the matter was that he just didn't want to hurt her.
His hand settled on her hair and he tangled his fingers through it. If it had been anyone else from the Slayer's crew who'd been there with them, he wouldn't have felt that way. He thought it would take a bloody miracle for him to not want to torture Xander just for the unholy fun of it, because the git just rubbed him wrong in every way. Same for the others.
Well, okay, not the Slayer herself. He was all for fighting her, but he really didn't want her dead. Who the hell knew what kind of Slayer that Faith bitch was. Least he and Buffy had the mutual respect and letting-the- other-live thing going on. Even if it was only because they'd both pretty much realized that as far as killing each other went, they'd come to a stalemate.
He wanted to say it was only because Willow had gotten pulled into their family act, but that wasn't all of it. Neither was the fact that he liked her; he'd turned on plenty of people he liked out of necessity.
No, there was more to it than that, and what he more was...well, he didn't think that needed to be added to the rest of the crap that was rolling around in his head.
"Spike."
Angel was behind the armchair, watching him with narrowed eyes. Fuck. He snatched his hand from Willow's head and raised a brow. "Yeah?"
"Time for that talk."
Spike hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to Willow for just an instant before he set his jaw and stood up, sending her tumbling to the floor. She screamed when she landed, then rolled to her feet and stared around the room in a terror so absolute that Spike thought he might be sick.
"It's okay, Willow," Angel said quietly, moving slowly towards her and holding up his hands reassuringly. "You just fell off the couch."
Her wild eyes fixed on the couch, then moved to Spike, a frown creasing her brow. "I fell?" she echoed, her hands trembling. "But Spike was there..." His stomach clenched again when her face cleared and realization slid into her gaze. "Oh," she said quietly, moving her eyes away from him.
Spike felt Angel staring at him, but he couldn't seem to look away from Willow's bent head. Then Angel crossed to Willow and touched her chin with two fingers, lifting her head. Her hair obscured Spike's view of her face, but he saw Angel scrutinizing her, saw surprise twist Angel's features up, then watched as every bit of emotion was swept away.
"Willow," he whispered, and she shoved his hand away from her face and shook her head.
"I'm going to bed," she croaked, and hurried out of the room.
"Sit down," Angel growled. Spike started and peeled his eyes away from the staircase Willow had just run up. Angel was glaring at him furiously. "Now."
Spike sat.
"I'm done dancing around, Spike," Angel hissed. "Tell me what the hell has been going on with you, and start with why you let Buffy blackmail you."
"Giles, actually," Spike said wearily, rubbing a hand across his face. "It was Giles who did it." There was a growl, and Spike held up an appeasing hand. "I know better than to push you right now, don't I? I was all in fits, trying to kill the Slayer, right? They got annoyed and threatened me with a soul. What could I do?"
Angel glowered at him and then leaned down and grabbed his shirtfront, pulling Spike to his feet. "Who are you trying to fool?" he snarled. "There were a dozen ways out of that situation, and I know for a fact that you didn't try even a single one before submitting." His grip tightened, and Spike was off his feet. "Why?"
"What the hell else would I have done?" Spike shouted, struggling away.
There was a long, tense silence, and then Angel sighed tiredly and sank onto the sofa. "You were in San Francisco," he said eventually. "In control of the city. Why'd you head back to Sunnydale?"
With a shrug, Spike gave him the simplest answer he could. "Got bored."
Angel's eyes widened. "You got bored."
"Yeah, you know me," he said dryly, looking away. "Attention span of a ferret after a double shot of espresso."
"And why did you choose to go to Sunnydale?" Angel asked patiently, something in his voice causing Spike to look up. The souled vampire's face was considering, and Spike knew he was hearing everything that wasn't being said.
Spike laughed bitterly. Oh, he remembered this. Remembered how Angelus could always read between lines that weren't even there. Bloody hell, it was annoying. But good, too, since he wouldn't have to be all heart- pouring. "Figured killing a Slayer was just what I needed," he replied, and a knowing look passed across Angel's face.
"If you'd succeeded," Angel ventured, "*would* it have been what you needed?"
There was no thought required to answer that one. He'd realized the truth of it a while ago. "Nah."
"Any idea what would have been what you needed?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Spike said thoughtfully. "Do I pick door number one: find a latter-day gypsy bint and follow in your footsteps? Or do I go for door number two: find a really big rock to make all my friends jealous and follow in your footsteps?"
Leaning back into the sofa, Angel twisted his lips. "Maybe you should find another role model."
"Probably," Spike agreed readily. "But my options are rather limited, aren't they? Let's see...could take after that Kool-Aid mouthed sire of Darla's, couldn't I? Or Darla herself? Maybe Drusilla--"
"I get it," Angel interrupted. "When the hell did this start, Spike?"
"Dunno. Most likely when the chip was in," he admitted. "Thought everything would be the same when it was gone." He frowned. "Nothing was, though."
"I told you I wouldn't give you advice," Angel finally said, "and I won't. Truth is, I don't even know what I would tell you. The patriarch has some suggestions, and...Peaches," he rolled his eyes and Spike snorted, "has some as well. Not sure any of them is right."
"Yeah, well, at this point? I'm not sure I wouldn't tell you to shove it, either way," Spike confessed. "Dev is going to be back on her feet soon, and this little reality-vacation is going to end. Don't know where I'll go from there."
Angel gave him a sad look and Spike had to turn away again. Pity from the poof? Un-bloody-acceptable. "Bugger off," he hissed, and stormed out of the room.
***
He'd been tempted to stroll--okay, stumble, into the house and demand that she undo it, but thought better of it. Angel would know, just know, that Spike had done something to force her hand, and that wouldn't do at all.
From her parting words, he assumed she'd put it right sometime near dawn, but he hadn't thought she'd wait so long. The bloody sun was going to rise in twenty minutes.
Pushing away from the tree with a muttered curse, he slowly and painfully crossed the small yard. He made a small uncomfortable sound when the movements caused the wood to shift, and she noticed him. The blood drained from her face and she started trembling.
Oh, hell, he hadn't expected this, and he should have. Par for the course tonight, it seemed. She'd managed to surprise him twice now.
"Get this thing out of me," Spike growled from behind clenched teeth, "then indulge yourself."
A quick wave of her hand and Spike could feel his body ease its grip on the wood. Before he could reach up and finally yank the damn thing out of his chest, she had already done so from a distance. There were stars in his eyes as he fell to his knees and grabbed at his chest. When much of the pain faded, he smelled blood.
He lifted his head and saw Willow several feet away, holding a mug. She looked upset and hesitant. "Bring it here," Spike told her. "I won't bite." She frowned and he shook his head. "Lesson's well and truly over, pet. Promise."
She brought him more blood when he finished that, and then sat in front of him. Her hands clamped around handfuls of grass and wrenched them from the earth.
"Impressive all around," Spike grunted. "Nice touch to leave me to stew in my own juices."
She looked like she was going to puke, but Spike did nothing, said nothing. He'd lied, really. Lesson wasn't over just yet.
"I-I-I don't know what came over me," she whimpered.
"Survival instinct," he said bluntly. "Always knew you had one in there somewhere."
"It was cruel," she continued, eyes wide and blank. "Cruel and-and-and awful and I'm sorry."
Spike considered Willow's distressed form for a while. "Come on," he finally said casually. "I all but asked for it."
Her head swiveled back and forth almost crazily. "No, I baited you into coming at me *just* so I could do that," she cried out.
"And you had *no* reason to do that, now did you?" Spike drawled sarcastically. She opened her mouth, but he glared at her and she shut it again. "This was entirely my fault, no matter what you think."
"I set you up to take that plank in the chest!" Willow cried out, breathing raggedly. "How can you possibly say that's your fault?"
"Because I should have known you'd do it," Spike said honestly. "Shouldn't have been trying to teach you a lesson without knowing how it would go." He shook his head and smiled wryly. "Based the scenario on how you would have reacted a month ago. I think I got off easy, all things considered."
"You think this was just a lesson?" she asked quietly, her eyes boring into him. "Spike, what I did to you--" She shook her head. "I never would have thought I could do something like that. But I did. And you're acting so-so- so casual about it."
"You think we just have to protect you here and now?" Spike asked her intently. "You think we don't have to take into consideration what happens after all of this?" He shook his head. "As much as I'd like you to be easily duped by me later on, I can't let you be. What would have happened if I'd been going after you for real?"
She shook her head and pulled her hands from the grass she'd mangled. "You'd have bitten me. Killed me," she whispered.
"If I was feeling generous," he said bluntly, and she flinched.
He watched her process that, turn it over and study it from every angle, and he saw the knowledge come into her that she might have just wished he'd killed her quickly.
"But I don't understand how I could have *done* that," she maintained weakly.
"Just get over that already, will you?" Spike snapped crossly. "You've been living with vampires for how long now? Only natural for it to have a temporary effect on you."
Her eyes glinted briefly. "Temporary?"
Spike snorted. "Yeah, temporary." Her brow knitted and her eyes began to clear. "No hard feelings on my part."
"I'm still sorry," she ventured.
"Don't be," he dismissed. "Now can we get in the damn house? There's about three minutes until the ball of light comes out and burns me to a crisp."
They went inside and upstairs. Willow stopped him when he would have gone into Dev's room. "Now that we're clear about where we'll stand after this," she ventured hesitantly, her eyes averted, "could we maybe just, uh, go back to being friendly again?"
Spike stilled and looked away from her trembling hands and weary eyes. He'd wanted to make sure she wouldn't be susceptible to him later on; he'd been obligated to do so.
The ease with which she'd hardened herself during their encounter had initially pleased him. Then she'd left him, with that wood glued to his insides and the pain damn near enough to make him pass out once or twice. She'd just gone back home and she hadn't thought a thing about it until she'd been faced with him again hours later. That hadn't pleased him. That edge that had shown itself, that viciousness that had appeared...that had troubled him.
Dru had said everything was shifting in Willow, and Spike had seen that tonight firsthand. Whether it was a shift that she needed to get through what Dru saw coming, or whether it would be her undoing, he didn't know.
He'd explained her actions away to calm her but he didn't really believe the excuse. Not deep down. No, some part of him knew that it *was* the quiet ones, the good ones, that one had to watch out for. Always had the darkest sides to them. He was a prime example of that, wasn't he? Oh, yes.
"Yeah, sure," Spike told her softly.
She smiled, relieved, and went into her room. Spike felt his face settle into blank lines as he entered Dev's room. Though it was Dru's shift with Dev, Angel was in there as well. Both were on the bed, and Angel looked up when he stepped into the room, his eyes zeroing in on the bloody mess that was Spike's shirt and chest.
Spike studiously ignored him as he stripped to his waist and wordlessly put his portion into the copper bowl. After Dev was fed, Dru kissed her forehead and crossed to Spike. Her eyes met his and she smiled somewhat sadly, her hand brushing his cheek before she left the room.
Angel was there when he turned around, gaze inscrutable as he stared at Spike. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that Willow didn't get bored and ask you to walk her back earlier."
Spike didn't say anything.
"Tread carefully," Angel warned softly.
***
It took a couple of days for Willow to relax around Spike again, and he wasn't very helpful in facilitating it. Generally he studied her with a probing gaze that made her skin itch and caused her to leave the room. She didn't want to see the knowledge of what she'd done in his eyes, even if it wasn't actually there.
She'd decided he was right in his assessment of what had happened; she'd simply gotten caught up in the vampire state of mind. No problem. She just wouldn't let it happen again. Period. End of story. If there was any doubt in her mind about that, it was pushed aside along with every other thought of what she'd done. Far aside. Like, hidden deep in the back of her head. Period. End of story.
He was staring at her again, and Willow had to curl her hands into fists so that she wouldn't start scratching at her arms. She was just about to flee the living room when Dru growled something at Spike in a language that definitely wasn't English. Dru had begged Angel to take her shift with Dev and was sitting beside Willow on the sofa.
Spike's eyes finally left Willow, to stare at Dru in surprise. He said something back to her, and then frowned at the response he got.
They were talking about her. Of course they were. She started to rise again, but Dru's hand was on her arm. "It's all right, precious," she cooed. "The paths are winding and circular, yet linear and absolute." Willow frowned and shook her head in confusion. Dru's dark eyes glittered delightedly and she took her hand from Willow's arm and ran her fingers along her neck. "Spike is so very loyal."
Willow looked at Spike, hoping for a translation or enlightenment about what Dru was saying, but Spike just rolled his eyes and twisted his lips. "Just tell her to be quiet," he suggested indulgently. "She'll ramble on like that all night if you let her. It's cute at first, but that doesn't last."
Dru pouted and leaned her head on Willow's shoulder, peering up at her with baleful eyes. "You don't find me tiresome, do you, precious?" she asked cutely.
Willow's lips twitched. Faced with that countenance, what could she say but, "No, Dru, I don't."
"See," Dru crowed happily. "Precious adores me."
Spike pointed a finger at Willow. "Now you've gone and done it," he said drolly. "Won't ever get a moment's peace again."
His eyes were light and open, and Willow looked at them for a long time before she realized that things had somehow morphed back to normal again. At least, she thought so. A moment later, the thought was confirmed when Spike winked at her.
She smiled goofily, and Spike's lips quirked before Dru garnered his attention again and the night passed normally. Or, for what passed for normal lately, what with living with four vampires.
Willow still had a bounce in her step when she turned in for the day, though getting woken up by Angel before dusk wasn't what she'd been expecting.
For a moment she just stared at the cell phone Angel held out to her, then she took it and put it to her ear. Wesley apologized profusely for waking her, then went on to say that he wouldn't be able to get any useful information any time soon.
"The entry you asked me to focus on first," he explained, "comes from a rather rare text. The Hwopf Compendium. I'm working on obtaining a copy of it from some, er, sources, but it'll take time."
"Oh. Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about that," she said with a shrug. "In the meantime, can you--"
"We're already working on some of the other entries," Wesley assured her. "Again, I don't think I'll be calling in a few hours with the answers."
Of course not. Why should anything about any of this come quickly? Once again Wesley promised to keep her updated, leaving Willow to chew her lip and consider their options. Sure, they could wait around while Wesley looked into everything. But that took time, and they weren't even sure if the attack on Dev had had anything to do with the Analects. Could be they were just wasting time with that avenue of investigation.
Trouble was, they didn't have any other avenues to explore. Willow wandered into the bathroom to shower, her thoughts racing as she washed her hair. From what Spike and Angel had told her, Dev hadn't been very forthcoming about anything in her life. For all they knew, some scorned lover was at the heart of the matter.
Willow's hands stilled in the process of threading conditioner through her hair. They needed Dev. Conscious and talking. A lot sooner than a few weeks from now. She'd be able to suggest other options for them to look into, if not actually come out and tell them who'd done this to her.
She spent the rest of her shower figuring out how to get that accomplished.
***
Recent events had the effect of making Spike several shades of irritable. Dev had always maintained that inaction was intolerable to him when something was on his mind. "You've got to be fucking or fighting," she'd laughed. "Can't just sit down and think about anything."
Considering that she'd been completely correct in her assessment, it wasn't surprising that he picked a fight with Angel a couple of nights later.
It started as a silly argument and quickly spun out of control. Angel dragged him into the kitchen and threw open the basement door. Spike got a glimpse of Willow's tight face before Angel tossed him down the concrete steps.
It hurt every time he knocked against the cement, and when he finally came to a stop, the pain continued by way of Angel's foot landing a kick to his ribs. Something cracked.
Spike stared up at Angel blankly, and the other vampire paused in the middle of another kick, this one aimed at his face. The anger in Angel's eyes faded away to a glittering nothingness.
"No," he hissed disgustedly and lowered his foot. The light from the kitchen blinded Spike when Angel retreated up the steps.
He stayed where he was, concertedly not thinking about what had and hadn't just happened, or why. The light was blocked again. Hesitant footfalls on the steps. Backlit red surrounding shadows.
Willow stopped a few steps above his inelegant sprawl and sat. "Rah-rah-sis- boom-bah," she deadpanned.
Spike snorted and pushed himself into a sitting position. "Go team go," he returned dryly.
"You know, I feel a kinship with those National Geographic guys, now," Willow mused, and Spike heard the bit of humor that tinged her words. "Cohabitating with vampires and learning all sorts of nifty things about them that I never knew." She tilted her head. "Maybe I should write an anonymous account of it all and send it to the Watchers. Shed new light on an old favorite."
"I doubt they'd be interested unless you were passing on new ways to kill us," he sighed. He ran a hand over his face and tried to get his head in order. "So what did this--" He gestured at himself. "--teach you that you never knew before?"
Willow shrugged and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and then resting her chin in her hands. "I don't even know what this--" She echoed his own gesture "--was, so I can't say."
"Yeah, well, you're not alone in that."
"Wanna go out?"
Spike started, then stared at her. "What?"
She chuckled. "Out. As in, some place other than this house," she teased him. "I'm getting a little claustrophobic," she admitted. "Since I'm not allowed to go anywhere alone, I'm choosing you as the lesser of three evils."
Which was saying a lot, considering what had occurred on their last outing. He'd have thought she'd stay in the house for the rest of her life before willingly going anywhere with him alone again.
"I put Angel in a mood, did I?" Spike asked knowingly, and Willow nodded emphatically. "And you still don't trust Dru."
She surprised him by denying that. "I know that she won't knowingly hurt me," Willow countered slowly. "I think it's more probable that she'll decide to go on a murder spree, and I don't have your or Angel's knack for keeping her under control."
Spike was interested. Getting out of the soddin' house would probably do him good. "What did you have in mind?" he asked cautiously, crossing his fingers that she wouldn't suggest anything that involved him listening to talentless losers singing.
Some hint of his suspicions must have been on his face, because an impish light appeared in Willow's eyes. "Well, I was thinking of karaoke." She grinned at Spike's shudder. "Pool, then?"
A brow lifted dubiously. "Can you even play pool?"
"Not even a little," she chirped.
The lack of concern in her voice and the enthusiasm in her eyes made his lips twitch for some odd reason. He hauled himself to his feet and stared down at her. "Nothing better going on," he said diffidently. "Might as well."
Willow got to her feet, just two steps above him, and it put her neck at his eye level. Her throat was bared by the v-necked orange shirt that she wore and Spike found that he was staring.
"Never thought I'd *prefer* a man to be staring at my breasts," she drawled sarcastically.
It was like telling someone not to think of pink elephants, wasn't it? Spike was suddenly focused on her breasts without having made the decision to do so. The soft material of her shirt made her breasts look vine- ripened, the tightness of it drawing attention to them and inviting a touch, or a lick, but just begging for a bite.
She went still, her muscles locking up and her breath catching at the same moment that her heart paused for one dramatic second...and there was nothing to distract Spike from the sound of blood rushing under her skin, and the moment seemed to linger around them, ticking by like an eon while Spike practically drowned.
Then Willow sucked in a breath and even the swelling tide that lifted her chest for further inspection--even that wasn't enough to prevent the eon from ending, because her heart was racing now, and she was fidgeting nervously while she stumbled up a step backwards.
"Um, I didn't mean--and if--you didn't--I'm going upstairs now," she choked out, turning away and dashing up the steps.
Spike grabbed hold of the flimsy wooden railing with one hand and braced the other on the wall next to him. "Bloody fuck," he hissed.
He was in serious trouble here. Because right then the only thing he wanted to do was give chase after his prey, pin her to the most convenient horizontal--hell, or even vertical--surface, and go to town. And it was the first time he'd even remotely thought of Willow sexually.
With an angry growl, Spike stood up straight and let go of the railing and wall. No. Absolutely not. He was just horny, was all. He'd been so ever since the family had unanimously gone platonic. Add to that what he'd been expecting to happen after Angel threw him down the stairs...hell, even the damn Slayer would have elicited that reaction at that particular moment.
All right. Good. He forced himself to relax and when the urge to pursue Willow had eased, he made his way up to the kitchen. Angel was leaning against a counter, hands tucked into his pockets and a considering expression on his face.
"You obviously don't want my advice on whatever's got your head all screwed up," he said bluntly, and Spike froze. "Fine. But you are damned well going to at least tell me what it is, and soon. It's making you unpredictable and rash." A smile ghosted across his lips. "And, next time? Just tell me you're in the mood for a fight; this kind of drama is for fledglings."
Spike laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Right."
"I'm ready," Willow said as she walked into the room, still wearing the same shirt. Spike grinned, and her eyes glittered defiantly. The grin slid into a smirk.
"I'm not going to ask you two to check in every half hour," Angel began, "but I want you back here before three. Understood?"
Spike rolled his eyes while Willow nodded sedately.
"And that means both of you," Angel continued firmly, staring at Willow. She lowered her eyes and flushed. "Willow, listen to Spike about cautionary measures. Don't second guess or argue with him."
"Hey!" she sputtered. "Why does he get to be in charge?"
"Because he's got preternatural strength and senses," Angel snapped. He pointed one finger at her, and Spike stifled a snicker. "That's exactly the kind of thing that I'm talking about. You convinced me to let you two go out, and you'll adhere to the rules."
Spike's brows flew up. Convinced? Yeah, probably Angel hadn't been too keen on them being out unsupervised again.
Willow tightened her lips but finally nodded at Angel's directive. His eyes swung to Spike. "She's going to be your impulse control tonight."
"What?" Spike shouted. "I don't need some little girl telling me what I can or can not do. I'm over a century old and I'm perfectly capable of--"
"Acting rationally?" Angel finished sarcastically, looking meaningfully at the basement door. Spike ground his teeth together. Bloody Hell. "Her words are mine tonight, unless your safety is at issue."
"Fine. Whatever," he hissed.
Willow's hand raised into the air and Spike clenched his hands into fists.
"Um, will one of you translate, please?" she ventured hesitantly, her brow wrinkled.
Angel kept his eyes on Spike as he answered her. "Keep him from doing anything stupid."
The temptation to pitch a fit was strong, but Spike figured that wasn't going to help his case any. So he curled his lip at Angel and folded his arms across his chest.
Willow's face cleared. "Oh." The frown returned. "How?"
"Tell him to shut up or stop as needed," Angel explained, finally looking away from Spike.
"Yeah, right, cause that'll work," Willow scoffed.
"He has to answer to me if it doesn't."
She appeared to process that for a moment, then her eyes grew round and she looked from Angel, to Spike, then at the floor. "Might as well stay in now," she mumbled. "He's gonna be nasty to me all night."
Angel looked like he wanted to beat one or both of them right then. "I don't care what you decide," he all but growled. "But those are the rules. Maybe if the two of you had been able to take a simple walk without an incident then this wouldn't be necessary, but you couldn't. So stop complaining and deal with it."
With that, he stormed out of the room.
"Giles is much better at chastising," Willow said stiffly.
"Yeah," Spike agreed, "but Angel is lot better at violence."
***
From the upstairs window, Angel watched as Willow and Spike made their way down the walk to the van and drove away.
"My Angel worries so," Drusilla murmured next to him. "As well he should. They're bookends, aren't they. Which one will topple to the floor and break?"
"Let's hope neither of them," Angel replied, taking her arm and leading her back to Dev's side. "Sit with her, Dru."
He wandered downstairs and stood in the doorway of the living room. It was Willow and Spike terrain, undeniably. Her laptop had taken up permanent residence on the coffee table, and several pairs of her discarded socks were scattered on the couch; she hated walking around barefoot, but once she was sitting she always stripped the socks from her feet, he'd noticed.
On the table next to Spike's usual chair was an ashtray filled almost to capacity, and a dismantled lamp--Spike claimed it was too bright for his eyes, but someone had kept turning it on, so he'd torn the thing apart. There were also several cigarette burns on the carpet in front of the chair that had caused Willow to completely write off their security deposit.
In the middle of the floor sat a Cribbage board, a deck of cards, and a bowl of pennies. The latter was because Spike had insisted to Willow that playing Cribbage without betting was akin to sacrilege. They'd played their first game earlier and Spike had wiped the floor with her.
The house was eerily silent without them, and while Angel was grateful for that, he was also troubled at their absence because he didn't know just what might happen tonight.
The tension that had developed between Spike and Willow after their "walk" had dissipated. Not that he had any idea about what had happened that night. Willow had been guarded when she'd returned only half an hour after she'd left. She'd also been distracted in an odd way. Not like there were other things on her mind, but like there was nothing on her mind and she wanted to keep it that way.
And Spike hadn't been forthcoming either. Angel had taken one look at him and known that nothing short of serious violence would pull it out of Spike. He'd considered it for a moment, then decided that it wouldn't be wise to take things to that extreme.
It had made him hesitant to allow them to venture out again, but he'd noted that since the incident, the two were looking at one another more directly, with fewer misconceptions in their eyes. Harder, more telling looks that packed less punches than they ever had before. Quite possibly it signaled the first step to them stripping away their one-dimensional personas.
He still hadn't decided whether that would be a good or horrendous thing, and obviously the stars weren't telling Dru, either, if her "bookends" comment was anything to go by.
Angel fidgeted and went back upstairs. Did they even realize that they were spending almost every moment of their free time together?
He could count on one hand the number of conversations he and Willow, and he and Spike, had had since arriving at the house. He'd need about eight more hands to count the ones between Willow and Spike, though. As for Dru, she tended to join Angel during his shift with Dev, do her own shift, then sleep before joining him again. Every once in a while she'd switch it up, but rarely. Spike obviously wasn't spending much time with her, and probably didn't even notice.
"Should I have told him what I did?" Dru whispered shakily to him when he entered Dev's room again. She was lying next to Dev, her hands buried in their childe's hair and her eyes uneasy.
Angel shrugged and took off his belt before climbing into bed on the other side of Dev. "Depends. What did you tell him?"
"She was itchy in her skin," Dru said smally. "Poor precious. So ignorant of what's inside her that she'd rip herself open just to know. I told him not to foreswear her. Told him he mustn't do so. But now I'm not sure. Nothing will stay still."
Her eyes met his and he sighed, reaching across Dev to cup her cheek in his palm. "They don't know themselves, Drusilla," he said softly as she nuzzled his hand. "Makes it impossible to glean anything beyond the here and now."
"Yet they each know the other," she mused, frowning delicately.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that."
Dru nodded. "Oh, but they do, dearest Angel. They do. And that's what frightens them."
***
Her pool skills were so horrendous that Spike had almost choked on his tongue during her first shot, where she came only a quarter of an inch away from ripping felt from the table. So the pool cue had been removed from her hands and shoved at some git or other who was waiting for a turn.
"Game's on us," Spike had told him, dragging Willow into the bar area of the tavern they were at.
"I'm really that bad?" Willow asked, nose scrunched up in disbelief.
"Worse," Spike confirmed, waving the waitress over. Willow got an iced tea, and he asked for two beers.
She looked pointedly the beers, but didn't say anything, which instantly roused his suspicions. Spike narrowed his eyes and brought his cigarette to his lips, studying her as she dumped five sugars into her tea. There wouldn't have been time for her to convince Angel to let them go out after she'd fled the basement. She had to have done it before that, and had mislead him into thinking otherwise. And she hadn't changed her mind about going out with him despite the scene with Angel, what had happened in the basement, or the rules Angel had imposed.
"You want to do something, don't you?" he guessed.
Her brows knitted. "Um, yeah. Hence the doing."
Cutting a hand through the air, he leaned back and shook his head. "Pet, I've been dealing with vampire politics about four times longer than you've been alive," he stated. "Just come out with it, will you?"
A burst of red exploded across her face. "I didn't even start yet," she mumbled.
He smirked. "So you want me to back you on something, do you? Go on, let's hear it."
She was suddenly very busy stirring her tea into submission. "I was thinking that I could maybe lower my shield, and convince Dev to put hers up again. Then, maybe try to track the leeches on Dev back to whoever--"
"No." She opened her mouth and Spike continued before she could say anything. "And don't even waste your breath on another word because it's too dangerous. All you could end up doing is leading them right back to us."
"But you said yourself that you're tired of not doing anything," Willow argued stubbornly. "And this would be doing something."
Spike barked out a laugh of disbelief. "I'm all for jumping in headfirst, yeah, but even I understand that we still have no bleedin' idea what's going on, not mention who or what's behind it."
"I could make it one way," she insisted, leaning forward. "They wouldn't be able--"
"Are you one-hundred percent positive they couldn't track it back?" he cut in, knowing what the answer would be.
Her eyes flickered uncomfortably. "No," she admitted, "but--"
'No," Spike snapped, sipping his beer. "And don't think Angel's answer will be any different."
She tossed her spoon onto the table with a clatter and glared at him. "Then why am I even here?" she exploded. "To vacuum?"
"You're here because of Dru's vision," he reminded her irritably. "You got those bastards off our tail and now Dev can heal."
"So you're saying that we continue to do nothing."
"We wait," Spike said succinctly. "And we hope that moron comes up with something soon."
"And if he doesn't?" Willow asked disgustedly. "If he can't get anything useful out of the information from the database, then we just spend the next month twiddling our thumbs until Dev wakes up?"
"Lay off, already," Spike hissed. "You're not the only one who isn't exactly in love with the situation; just the only one whining about it."
Her chin set and Spike closed his eyes, begging for patience. "Spike, I'm sure that I--"
His hand slammed down on the table and their drinks rattled and tipped precariously. "I said no," he shouted.
Willow slunk back in her seat and sighed miserably. "What about the healing spell?" she asked sarcastically. "Or is that something else we shouldn't do since it might help."
"I'd back you on that, but not the other."
"Good. That's settled then," she said quietly.
Spike blinked and learned forward. Her head was ducked and--was she smiling? She was.
"You little shit," he breathed.
"I have no idea what you mean," Willow said smoothly, but her smile was getting wider.
"You tossed up a smoke screen," he accused. "Started with something stupid so that I'd agree to what you really wanted to do. Damn, why didn't I see that?"
Willow took a sip of her tea and regarded him with laughing eyes. "Well, hypothetically, that would be because you decided before we had the conversation that I sucked at this."
"Yeah," he laughed, crushing out his cigarette and staring at her.
Her index finger traveled the rim of her glass. "Would it work on Angel?"
"Hypothetically?" he mocked, and she nodded. "No. But we might have a shot if we just propose the healing spell. As long as you can convince him there won't be any danger of us getting tracked."
"There won't be," she said with certainty. "That, I'm positive about. Completely."
He finished his beer and started on his second. "Okay, let's talk strategy then."
***
Angel spent an hour listening to Willow and Spike. Actually, Spike had only spoken for five of the sixty minutes, and had mainly just reminded Angel of how much time had passed, and how little progress they'd made. For the other fifty-five minutes, Angel had listened to Willow show off debating skills gained during her discussions with Spike as she laid out why she should do the healing spell on Dev.
He now had a new reason to not want them going anywhere together alone; they had ganged up on him.
Willow was still talking, standing in the center of the room with index cards--and Spike had really gotten a kick out of those--and putting everything she had into convincing Angel. Spike was sprawled on his chair, Dru on the floor beside him with her head resting on his thigh.
Angel stood in the doorway and wondered just when he'd lost control of the pair, then decided that he'd never really had control of them to begin with.
"Stop," Angel said, holding up a hand. Willow's mouth snapped shut. "Your presentation was impressive," he commented dryly and she beamed. "You think the results will be different this time?"
She nodded. "The only reason there was a problem last time was because she was protecting herself. I can slide under my shield and do it without a problem."
Knowing that she'd probably suggested this to Spike the night before last, when they'd gone out, and that Spike would have had more time to think on it, Angel turned to him. "And the risks?"
Spike shrugged. "Worst case: same thing happens. Big deal. But you're on puke duty."
Angel ignored the comment and turned to the other occupant of the room. "Dru?"
She lifted her head from Spike's knee and blinked lazily. "Our Devil has slept long enough," she told him. "Her mind is beginning to grow restless."
Angel's eyes narrowed. "Have you tried getting in again?"
"I couldn't," Dru replied with a pout in Willow's direction. "Precious' magic is too strong for me."
"I went ahead and called Wesley," Willow interjected, rifling through her cards. "He says that according to his--"
"Stop," Angel said again, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "We'll do it."
***
Willow was able to push and prod Angel into letting her perform the healing spell that night, and though she knew it had worked, there wouldn't be an immediate change in Dev's condition.
After washing the ointment from herself, Willow changed into her pajamas and wandered downstairs. Spike was in the living room already, and looked up when she came in. Willow fought against a blush with all her might. Spike seemed to have forgotten about what had happened in the basement. And thank god for small favors, because if he actually starting talking about it, or teasing her about it, or referring to it at all, she might just die of embarrassment.
She chose to pretend that it had never happened. Yet she still felt like it was there between them now. On her part, at any rate. Sure, the lighting had been bad, but she had mostly seen the look in his eyes when he'd been staring at her chest. It had been...hot. Hotter than any other set of eyes that had looked at her. Hot enough to make her forget--just for an instant-- that he was Spike and she was Willow. To her mind, that was one instant too many.
A voice in the back of her head thought it was hysterical. Because those pseudo-lusty glances she'd tossed his way when they'd played their game in Giles' living room? Not so pseudo. And there'd been an actual reason she'd gotten so upset when he'd turned on them that night and left Sunnydale, and it hadn't been simply because she'd hoped he wouldn't eventually chafe at the blackmail. But, hey, she was ignoring it all.
That didn't stop her from noticing things though. Like the fact that he was currently sprawled on the couch in an artful pose that she knew was half- purposeful and half-negligent. The purposeful part wasn't anything to do with her, she knew. That was just Spike. Sensual creature of the night to the end, able to make watching television seem like something out of one of those "For Mature Audiences Only" movies on Cinemax.
He was probably only partially aware of how the position stretched the material of his shirt across his chest, and how his cocked knee drew the eye to a rather...intimate portion of his anatomy. Willow was more than partially aware though.
"Not looking so hot," Spike commented, frowning.
And this time she did blush, because of course he would comment on how drab and icky looking she was at the exact moment when she'd been eyeing him up like a piece of chocolate.
But she stuck stringently to her path: ignore everything.
"I'm just tired," Willow said around a yawn. "Why are you sitting on the sofa?"
"Spilled my dinner all over the damn chair," he groused. Willow looked at the cushion, but didn't see any sign of blood. "I flipped it over, and I don't want to hear any more mamby-pamby complaining about the security deposit," he growled. "You're living with vampires."
"Fine, fine," she conceded, sighing hugely. "It's just my credit rating that gets slammed. Nothing major or anything." Spike made an obscene gesture with his hand and she rolled her eyes. "Make some room on the couch, would you?"
Grumbling, he pulled himself into a sitting position and swung his legs around. "Just put your damn socks over there with the others." He pointed to the side of the sofa where a pile of footwear sat. "They were starting to get ripe."
Ignoring him, Willow sat on the opposite end of the sofa and stripped the socks from her feet, dutifully dropping them with the others when Spike stared pointedly at her. At least he made it easy to be distracted by his annoying personality.
"Can we not have any discussions tonight?" Willow requested, watching him narrow his eyes. "I'm so not up to it."
"You always this tired?" Spike asked with surprise.
"Huh? No, but casting the spell while keeping the shield up...not so easy," she informed him with a shrug.
"Not just talking about tonight, Willow," he said, flipping the channel.
"Stress, I think," Willow dismissed. "I mean, the stress in Sunnydale? Way higher on the spectrum, but much more short-lived."
"Well, you're in luck then." She frowned, knowing by now what that careful tone of voice meant--one jerky comment coming up. "Listened to you blabber on enough for one night. Sent us all catatonic earlier."
And, really, that was rather tame, all things considered, so Willow shrugged and turned away so that he wouldn't see her smile. "Got the job done, didn't I? Now pick something to watch already." She tilted her head. "Preferably something fluffy and stupid."
She got what she asked for. In spades. Though she was tempted to complain when Spike came across some old Cheech and Chong movie and left it on, technically she had asked for it. Then she discovered that she was so tired that only every tenth line of dialogue seemed to register, and she grinned at having denied Spike the pleasure of irritating her.
She didn't remember falling sleep, just waking up. With her head on Spike's thigh. He was laughing uproariously, and no doubt his shaking form had woken her. She should move. Sit up and scoot away as she'd done the other times she'd woken up on him. But she didn't.
His thigh was solid under her head. It was reassuring to her, that strength. Right now, she had nothing to fear from. She needed this, she realized sleepily. Needed to be able to relax knowing that someone else would keep her safe, knowing that she could entirely let go of every single guard and not get killed for it.
When was the last time she'd felt this at ease? Not since she was sixteen. And unlike the scene in the basement, she couldn't even think it strange that it was Spike--who had been a source of terror for her too many times to count--that was making her feel this way. Because due to the terms of the situation they were in, he would die for her. Die to keep her safe. Only, he wouldn't have to die. He was too strong, too capable--even with his impatience--to get taken out easily.
That knowledge took away the need to be on guard and didn't bring with it any guilt. He could take care of himself and of her and she didn't have to worry. Her eyes drifted shut again.
***
Spike felt the redhead slip back into sleep, and looked down: her head was on his lap and one of her small hands was gripping his knee. It had surprised him that she hadn't tensed and moved back to her side of the couch when she'd briefly woken up. Instead, she'd seemed to relax even further and she'd actually rubbed her fingers against his knee, almost like she'd been reassuring herself that he was indeed still there.
With every day that passed, he began to wonder if that last lesson had been necessary. Because he didn't think that he'd be going after her once this was over, and not because he had the feeling she might very well kick his ass if he did. No, the simple fact of the matter was that he just didn't want to hurt her.
His hand settled on her hair and he tangled his fingers through it. If it had been anyone else from the Slayer's crew who'd been there with them, he wouldn't have felt that way. He thought it would take a bloody miracle for him to not want to torture Xander just for the unholy fun of it, because the git just rubbed him wrong in every way. Same for the others.
Well, okay, not the Slayer herself. He was all for fighting her, but he really didn't want her dead. Who the hell knew what kind of Slayer that Faith bitch was. Least he and Buffy had the mutual respect and letting-the- other-live thing going on. Even if it was only because they'd both pretty much realized that as far as killing each other went, they'd come to a stalemate.
He wanted to say it was only because Willow had gotten pulled into their family act, but that wasn't all of it. Neither was the fact that he liked her; he'd turned on plenty of people he liked out of necessity.
No, there was more to it than that, and what he more was...well, he didn't think that needed to be added to the rest of the crap that was rolling around in his head.
"Spike."
Angel was behind the armchair, watching him with narrowed eyes. Fuck. He snatched his hand from Willow's head and raised a brow. "Yeah?"
"Time for that talk."
Spike hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to Willow for just an instant before he set his jaw and stood up, sending her tumbling to the floor. She screamed when she landed, then rolled to her feet and stared around the room in a terror so absolute that Spike thought he might be sick.
"It's okay, Willow," Angel said quietly, moving slowly towards her and holding up his hands reassuringly. "You just fell off the couch."
Her wild eyes fixed on the couch, then moved to Spike, a frown creasing her brow. "I fell?" she echoed, her hands trembling. "But Spike was there..." His stomach clenched again when her face cleared and realization slid into her gaze. "Oh," she said quietly, moving her eyes away from him.
Spike felt Angel staring at him, but he couldn't seem to look away from Willow's bent head. Then Angel crossed to Willow and touched her chin with two fingers, lifting her head. Her hair obscured Spike's view of her face, but he saw Angel scrutinizing her, saw surprise twist Angel's features up, then watched as every bit of emotion was swept away.
"Willow," he whispered, and she shoved his hand away from her face and shook her head.
"I'm going to bed," she croaked, and hurried out of the room.
"Sit down," Angel growled. Spike started and peeled his eyes away from the staircase Willow had just run up. Angel was glaring at him furiously. "Now."
Spike sat.
"I'm done dancing around, Spike," Angel hissed. "Tell me what the hell has been going on with you, and start with why you let Buffy blackmail you."
"Giles, actually," Spike said wearily, rubbing a hand across his face. "It was Giles who did it." There was a growl, and Spike held up an appeasing hand. "I know better than to push you right now, don't I? I was all in fits, trying to kill the Slayer, right? They got annoyed and threatened me with a soul. What could I do?"
Angel glowered at him and then leaned down and grabbed his shirtfront, pulling Spike to his feet. "Who are you trying to fool?" he snarled. "There were a dozen ways out of that situation, and I know for a fact that you didn't try even a single one before submitting." His grip tightened, and Spike was off his feet. "Why?"
"What the hell else would I have done?" Spike shouted, struggling away.
There was a long, tense silence, and then Angel sighed tiredly and sank onto the sofa. "You were in San Francisco," he said eventually. "In control of the city. Why'd you head back to Sunnydale?"
With a shrug, Spike gave him the simplest answer he could. "Got bored."
Angel's eyes widened. "You got bored."
"Yeah, you know me," he said dryly, looking away. "Attention span of a ferret after a double shot of espresso."
"And why did you choose to go to Sunnydale?" Angel asked patiently, something in his voice causing Spike to look up. The souled vampire's face was considering, and Spike knew he was hearing everything that wasn't being said.
Spike laughed bitterly. Oh, he remembered this. Remembered how Angelus could always read between lines that weren't even there. Bloody hell, it was annoying. But good, too, since he wouldn't have to be all heart- pouring. "Figured killing a Slayer was just what I needed," he replied, and a knowing look passed across Angel's face.
"If you'd succeeded," Angel ventured, "*would* it have been what you needed?"
There was no thought required to answer that one. He'd realized the truth of it a while ago. "Nah."
"Any idea what would have been what you needed?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Spike said thoughtfully. "Do I pick door number one: find a latter-day gypsy bint and follow in your footsteps? Or do I go for door number two: find a really big rock to make all my friends jealous and follow in your footsteps?"
Leaning back into the sofa, Angel twisted his lips. "Maybe you should find another role model."
"Probably," Spike agreed readily. "But my options are rather limited, aren't they? Let's see...could take after that Kool-Aid mouthed sire of Darla's, couldn't I? Or Darla herself? Maybe Drusilla--"
"I get it," Angel interrupted. "When the hell did this start, Spike?"
"Dunno. Most likely when the chip was in," he admitted. "Thought everything would be the same when it was gone." He frowned. "Nothing was, though."
"I told you I wouldn't give you advice," Angel finally said, "and I won't. Truth is, I don't even know what I would tell you. The patriarch has some suggestions, and...Peaches," he rolled his eyes and Spike snorted, "has some as well. Not sure any of them is right."
"Yeah, well, at this point? I'm not sure I wouldn't tell you to shove it, either way," Spike confessed. "Dev is going to be back on her feet soon, and this little reality-vacation is going to end. Don't know where I'll go from there."
Angel gave him a sad look and Spike had to turn away again. Pity from the poof? Un-bloody-acceptable. "Bugger off," he hissed, and stormed out of the room.
***