Willow's News

Author: heather

Parts: 11 - 20

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~Part: 11~

The movie theatre was pleasantly crowded.  Hushed, excited voices swirled through the room as the lights overhead dimmed, signaling the start of the entertainment.  Spike and Willow settled comfortably into their seats, alternately reaching into the bucket of popcorn balanced between them, and watching the animated soda cup on the screen admonishing them to turn off their cell phones and note the emergency exits.

Willow stole a glance at her date just as he tossed another kernel in the air and caught it effortlessly between his teeth.  She giggled and he grinned at her. So far, so good.  Spike had been the perfect gentleman up to that point.  He held doors for her, offered his arm when they had entered the building, and paid for everything.  She’d noticed his stricken look when their popcorn, box of Goobers, and pair of sodas came to $22, but he’d bit back any tempting smart remarks and graciously handed over her share of the order before leading her away from the snack counter.

At last the shameless advertising was over and the feature presentation was announced.  Willow hoped Spike would enjoy her choice of movies.  He had insisted that she be the one to pick, but she couldn’t imagine him sitting through a romantic comedy, her usual preference.  Trying to win herself some points, she picked the vampire movie of the moment, “Underworld”.

At first it looked promising.  A very attractive woman dressed in black graced the screen, obviously one of the vampires.  She looked the part as well as anyone could without really being one of the undead.  The trouble started when the camera flashed on her fangs protruding from an otherwise completely human looking face.  Makeup and special effects could’ve made her indistinguishable on screen from a real vampire, but there was no mistaking her pretty dark eyes and smooth forehead for anything but a human wearing fake teeth.

Spike snorted, making no effort to keep his voice down.  “I guess the blokes in Hollywood think your average moviegoer couldn’t handle the real deal.  Got to pretty up the truth for the big screen.  Wouldn’t want anyone to mistake our heroine for a real monster.”  After several angry shushes from the row behind them and a pleading look from Willow, Spike fell silent and slumped back in his seat.  Willow surreptitiously crossed her fingers that they’d seen the last of such blatant misinformation.  She didn’t want to find out what Spike would do if they made any more mistakes.  He clearly had a hard time accepting that movies weren’t supposed to be factual.

The movie progressed quickly, revealing that the primary plot was that the vampires were at war with the werewolves.  Willow worried that Spike would question why vampires would concern themselves with werewolves, but he kept quiet.  That is, until the two groups had a gunfight in a subway station.  “Guns!” He exclaimed.  “Guns!  What ever happened to fists and fangs?  No self-respecting vampire uses a modern day weapon!  What good are guns anyway?  That’s not going to kill us.”  This time Willow had to put a hand on his arm and pull him back into the seat before he would calm down enough to let everyone go back to watching the movie.

He continued to grumble under his breath about how awful it was that everyone in the theatre would have such an inaccurate view of vampires.  Their popcorn was a lost cause, having tumbled from Spike’s lap and gone skittering across the aisle when he leapt up to protest the gunfight.  Willow sat with her elbow on the armrest on the side away from Spike and her forehead cradled in her hand.  What was she thinking? What on earth had given her the idea that Spike would enjoy a movie about vampires?  For that matter, what had given her the idea that she should go on a date with Spike in the first place?  Oh right.  He was supposed to make her happy.  Uh huh.  Maybe Lorne’s inner eye needed a contact lens.

On the screen, the vampires were getting ready for a big party to welcome a visiting master.  When the heroine stood before a mirror to fix her outfit, Willow saw the tirade coming before it even started. “A reflection!  She has a bloody reflection!  Did these idiots ever even read a book about vampires?” Spike was practically jumping up and down and shaking his fist at the screen.  An usher came over with a flashlight.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to take your seat.” He was ignored.  “Sir, sir?”  Spike finally turned, but the usher must not have liked what he saw because he turned and fled up the aisle without another word. Satisfied, Spike finally sat down.  That was when he noticed that Willow had her face in both hands and her back was hitching slightly.

“Willow, love?  Are you crying?  It’s not that bad.  I mean, at least they’ve got the outfits right. Besides, you and I know the truth, who cares what these wankers think?”

Willow raised her face to look at him, tears still streaming down her cheeks.  Her mouth was open in disbelief and she just shook her head and turned back to the screen.  She almost laughed it was so ridiculous.  He thought she was upset by the movie too.  It never even occurred to him that he was behaving abominably.  If she couldn’t even take him out in public, how were they ever going to have a relationship?

If she thought the worst was over she was wrong. Moments later it was revealed that the cause of the quarrel between the werewolves and vampires was a long ago love affair that had ended with the female vampire being killed because her werewolf lover had gotten her pregnant.  Willow looked at Spike, holding her breath. For a moment, he simply stared at the screen. “Pregnant?” He asked quietly, as if requesting that the actors confirm what he heard.  “Pregnant?”  He said, louder.  Then he screamed it.  “Pregnant!  The dead don’t get pregnant you bleeding morons!  How does a dead body give life?  Do you people even think before you write this stuff?”  He was yelling at the screen as if he really expected an explanation.

Seconds later, every usher employed at the theatre was standing in the aisle by their seats.  The biggest one took a step towards them.  “Sir, we are going to have to ask you to leave.  We’ve already called the police. If you leave quietly we won’t get them involved.” The implication of what would happen if he didn’t leave quietly was left unsaid.

“Oh, I’m leaving alright,” Spike said.  “You couldn’t pay me to sit through another minute of this tripe.” He pushed his way out through the ushers.  Almost as an afterthought he turned to Willow and held out his hand.  “You coming, love?  You didn’t seem to like it much either.”  Willow said nothing and didn’t take his hand, but she slunk out of the theatre behind him, fervently wishing that a hole in the ground would open up and swallow her.

They had walked from the hotel since it was only about half a mile.  They walked back the way they had come and Spike ranted about how disgraceful it was that no one did their research before making a movie that would influence the views of millions of people.  She waited until they were about a block away, then turned on him.  “How could you, Spike?”  He stopped and stared at her, frowning.  “How could you do that to me?  I thought we were going to have a nice time!” Tears shone in her eyes and she slapped Spike’s hand away when he reached towards her.  “I was stupid to think we could ever have anything normal.  We aren’t normal, either of us.  I thought… I was wrong.”  She turned from him and ran down the street.  Spike stood where he was still frowning, still clueless about what he had done wrong.

Finally, when Willow was nearly out of sight, he ran to catch up to her.  Whatever it was, he had to make it better.  She had to give him a second chance, she just had to.  The happiness of both of them depended on it.

~Part: 12~

With his preternatural speed, Spike could easily have caught up to Willow before she reached the hotel, but he didn’t want to cause an even bigger scene in the middle of the street, so he let her go on running ahead of him.  As he followed along after her, it slowly dawned on him why she was upset.  Willow was a shy girl, of course, and he had drawn negative attention to them, just the sort of thing she would normally go out of her way to avoid. He had a short fuse where stupid humans were concerned, it was one of the reasons he liked Willow so much.  She had never done anything that made him want to bang his head against the wall.  Still, if he expected to have a chance with her, he needed to develop a stronger tolerance for the rest of her kind.

When Willow slammed through the front doors into the hotel lobby, Spike put on a burst of speed to catch up with her before she disappeared up the stairs to hide from him in her room.  He much preferred to have the inevitable confrontation on neutral ground.  “Willow,” he begged, catching her left hand from behind and holding it firmly so she couldn’t pull away.  She turned to look at him, but said nothing, only glared at him.  “Please, just hear me out.  I didn’t mean nothing by it.  It just caught me off guard, is all. Seeing those vamps on the screen was a bit of a shock. Not every day you see a human *trying* to be a vampire.  It’s not surprising they wouldn’t be very good at it.  I swear I’ll never do it again.  Don’t be mad?”  He dipped his head and gave her a tentative sideways smile.

Damn it.  She wanted to be mad at him, but he was so darned adorable!  If anyone had told her that she would be applying that particular adjective to the Big Bad, she would have been horrified, but nothing else seemed to fit.  Standing there, smiling at her, begging her forgiveness, he was irresistible, and the real kick of it all was that he knew it.  Oh well, it wouldn’t do her any good to deny it.  He could tell the moment she tried to hide an answering smile. Knowing victory was his, Spike dared to pull her closer and give her a quick hug.  When he released her, she stepped away a tiny bit shaken by the sudden closeness of Spike’s body.  Even though it had only been for a moment, she had felt every inch of him, and enjoyed it immensely.  That too, she did her best to hide.

He seemed oblivious as he paced back and forth in front of her, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Alright, I know I blew it tonight.  I want to make it up to you, but maybe it’ll work out for the best if I pick our entertainment.  What do you say?  Give me another chance?”  Willow nodded slightly, not entirely trusting her voice not to come out breathy and suggestive.  “Great!  How about I take you dancing tomorrow night?”

Willow lit up at the mere thought of such a romantic sounding evening with Spike.  It had to be better than the movie, even though that wasn’t saying much at all. “It sounds wonderful,” she admitted, silently cursing at how her voice betrayed her excitement.

“It’s a date, then,” he said.  Looking around the lobby he added, “I’m out of here before the Dark and Poncy One decides to put me to work.”  Before she could respond, he was up the stairs and out of sight.

~~~*~~~

Angel must have known when they came in, but he stayed in his office, probably giving them some privacy, she thought.  As grateful as Willow was for his hospitality in letting her stay at the hotel for so long, she wasn’t really looking forward to any more adventure that night either.  Making up her mind that no one should have to try to keep Spike from running amok, and fight demons in so short a span of time, Willow hurried up the stairs herself, seeking the refuge of her room.

Safely in her room, Willow leaned against the closed door and let out a shaky giggle.  Sometimes it was either laugh, or go insane.  What a night!  She had hoped dating Spike would be exciting, but so far, it wasn’t the kind of excitement she had in mind. Imagine!  Willow Rosenberg getting kicked out of a movie theatre!  Well, ok, technically Spike had been the one thrown out, but as his date, she felt that the expulsion automatically included her.  And where had her sanity been when she agreed to go out with him again?  Oh, right.  It had vanished into the depths of Spike’s clear blue eyes when he had asked for her forgiveness and convinced her to give him another chance.

Shaking her head at her own impulsiveness, she plopped down on the bed and reached for the phone on the nightstand.  Immediately, the gaiety left her face and she dropped her hand.  Who was she going to call? She’d just had a newsworthy date and there was no one to tell about it.  She wondered when it was going to really sink in that Buffy was dead.  She wasn’t sure Buffy would’ve wanted to hear about her adventures with the evil undead anyway, but that decision was no longer hers.

A twinge of guilt pricked her, making her feel like a terrible person for moving on with her life and having some semblance of a good time when her friend was dead, her girlfriend, no, ex-girlfriend, still recovering from Glory’s mind-raping, and all her other friends were in mourning, wherever they were.

With a tired sigh, she rolled over on her back and stared up at the plain white hotel room ceiling. Nothing made sense anymore.  What good did it do to feel guilty for things she could do nothing about? She couldn’t bring Buffy back, she couldn’t make Tara feel better, and her other friends weren’t even around, so it wasn’t like her activities were having any effect on them.  So why did she still feel like she was supposed to be moping around, hating the world?  That’s exactly what Angel was doing, but who was to say that he was doing the right thing?  Was his misery helping anyone?  No.

She wondered what the rest of the old Sunnydale gang was up to.  Did she really believe that Giles had become a hermit at his home in England, and wasn’t doing anything fun, ever?  Ok, maybe she *had* thought that’s what he was doing, but he couldn’t do that forever, and she might be wrong even now.  And what about Dawn?  She was still on her summer vacation somewhere with her father.  Was it realistic to think that she wasn’t enjoying herself, even a little?

She still hadn’t heard from Xander or Anya.  It seemed strange to go that long without talking to him.  What if he wasn’t ok?  At first, Willow had been annoyed that he hadn’t called the Hyperion to check on her, but now it occurred to her that she hadn’t called to check on him either.  The thought was just horrifying enough for her to swallow her pride and pick up the phone.  She dialed the number in record time and held her breath, listening to the droning ring.  The third ring cut off in the middle when the phone was answered.  “Hello?” asked an all too familiar male voice.

Willow began breathing again, having irrefutable proof that Xander was alive, if not well.  She opened her mouth to identify herself, and then paused.  What was she going to say?  How was she going to explain lingering in LA?  Or her intent to stay indefinitely? Or why she hadn’t called sooner?  He would want to know why she wasn’t coming back and she wasn’t ready to tell him, if he really did even care.  Buffy’s death had killed something in Xander and Willow wasn’t sure he would ever get it back.  She quietly replaced the phone without saying a word.

Willow suddenly felt cold and drew the blankets over herself, huddling in a tiny ball of witch.  She wondered if she and Xander would ever just be two best friends.  They had always been three best friends, first with Jesse, and then with Buffy.  She didn’t know if their friendship would survive the death of another member of their trio.  At the moment, it was too early to tell, and Willow reminded herself that it was just one more thing that she couldn’t do anything about.

~~

The next thought that Willow had was that maybe she should change her clothes for bed.  When she opened her eyes, the clock on the nightstand told her it was late morning and if she was going to do any changing, it should be for the day ahead.  When she sat up, her head throbbed, and that’s when she remembered that she had cried herself to sleep.  Slightly disgusted with herself, she threw off the covers and went to her closet to find fresh clothes.

She and Cordelia had done enough shopping that the closet barely held all her clothes.  But then, it was just a hotel closet, not the kind you could expect in a place where people actually lived long term. Dragging out some random outfit, Willow headed for the shower.  She needed to think, and thoughts always came easier in the shower, especially when she’d just woken up.

Long term.  It was a foreign concept lately.  She had put so much focus in just not going back to Sunnydale that she hadn’t given much thought to what she was going to do instead.  In Sunnydale, she’d had three homes: her parents’ house, the Summers’ home, and her dorm.  Now she had a tiny hotel room that she had more or less invited herself to stay in.  It couldn’t last, it wasn’t meant to.  If she was going to stay in LA, she needed a place to call home, and this wasn’t it.

Toweling off, she made her decision.  She would get an apartment.  After all, even Wesley and Cordelia had their own places.  Only Angel actually lived at the hotel, and she wouldn’t mind some distance from him anyway.  It was hard enough to get over throwing herself at him when she’d first arrived, and now he just served as a constant reminder that she was supposed to be sad.

On top of that, there was the Spike issue.  Although he had his own room now that his presence was no longer a secret, Willow could picture things getting awkward as their courtship progressed if they were living under the same roof.  It would be hard on a new relationship if they didn’t have their own space. Somehow, she didn’t see Spike as being the one to take the initiative and move out.

Feeling more herself now that she had a purpose, Willow confronted her closet once more.  In addition to apartment hunting, she also had a date tonight. She picked through the clothes wondering what Spike would want her to wear to go dancing.  If only she had paused to wonder what kind of dancing he had in mind, things might have turned out better.

~Part: 13~

Her first instinct was to just turn around and go right back to the hotel.  When Spike had told her that the name of the establishment where he intended to take her dancing was “The Dragonfly”, she had been charmed, thinking of the graceful insect swooping through the air in a lovely pattern.  Dressing accordingly, Willow had donned a flowy skirt with a loose knit top and flat shoes, all chosen to allow her free movement for whatever twirls and bends Spike might expect her to perform.

Standing in front of the place, she wondered how she could have been so delusional.  This was Spike.  He who Billy Idol had made an inadequate attempt to emulate.  And somehow she really thought he was going to magically transform into some 18th century gentleman and waltz her across a shining wooden floor in a grand ballroom?  Well, yeah, ok that’s exactly what she thought.  The blackened windows vibrating with the beat of the opening act within, and the small cluster of very ungentlemanly looking youths outside the door shattered her every illusion.  For one thing, she was way overdressed.  Or maybe that was underdressed.  Surely the amount of leather and metal the other customers were wearing cost far more than her modest outfit.

To top it off, Spike was late.  He had asked her to meet him here at 9 pm, saying he had a surprise for her that he needed to pick up just beforehand.  So now here she was in front of some dingy club, with an even dingier clientele, several of whom were eyeing her and her carefully chosen outfit suspiciously, and she had no date to show for it, and no surprise either.  At least, not the kind she’d been hoping for.

Trying to look casual, she studied a wildly colored poster for tonight’s main attraction, which was taped up over one of the windows.  “Billy Talent – One night only!” it proclaimed.  The picture of the band showed a group of men, who, while not as intimidating as some of their fans, were definitely not going to be picking up violins and clarinets for her evening's entertainment.  Spike was going to be all new kinds of dead, if he ever showed up.

Most of the loitering bunch had made their way inside. Willow was tempted to follow, not loving the streets of LA, especially in this neighborhood, after dark. But Spike had specifically said to meet him outside, and from the glimpses she had of the interior of the place when the door had opened to admit the others, she knew he had a point.  The place looked massive and it was packed.  If he was already inside, she'd never find him.

Her watch claimed it was 9:15, though it felt like she had been waiting around for hours.  Five more minutes, she decided.  If he's not here by then, I'm leaving. She wanted to leave anyway.  She had no intention of actually staying around to listen to the band, but she didn't want Spike to think she hadn't showed.  Sure, she had accompanied her friends to the Bronze any number of times to hear the latest local group make their debut onstage, but this was different.  This wasn't some high school hangout.  This was a real, hardcore club where things could get ugly and people didn't wear flowery skirts.  She did not bother to remember that she had fought off numerous vamp attacks at the Bronze. It was irrelevant to her internal rant. The worst part wasn't even the punk band or the rough crowd; it was that her expectations were all wrong. She had built herself up for a romantic evening, something that could never happen in a place like this.

Her eyes were glued to her watch.  9:18. In two more minutes she could leave with a clear conscience.  She could consider herself stood up.  Any sooner than that and she was the one doing the standing up.  Still assuming that her date showed up to be stood up.

A moment later, a voice calling her name made her forget about the watch.  Spike was running towards her waving two small pieces of paper over his head.  The papers hardly registered on her radar, she was far too busy taking in his outfit.  Spike, unsurprisingly, had known how to dress for the occasion.  His usually slicked back hair was stiffly gelled into a startling array of blond spikes.  He wore a metal studded black leather collar with matching wrist cuffs, and shredded versions of his usual black tee shirt and jeans, giving Willow the occasional, interesting glimpse of skin as he moved.  His boots and leather coat were unchanged, even though it had to be an 80 degree night.  She also noticed that he had painted his finger nails black for the occasion, something she hadn't seen him do since he had last tried to kill her.  Willow fully appreciated the irony of attempting to date a monster who had tried to kill her on multiple occasions and would not have taken well to any attempt to point it out to her at that moment.

Spike was waving the slips of paper in her face, babbling like a 6 year old.  "Backstage passes!  I got us backstage passes to Billy Talent!  Isn't it great? We're gonna meet Billy Talent!  The whole band!"  He was grinning like an idiot until it dawned on him that his enthusiasm was not reflected in Willow's stony gaze.  "Awww, I'm sorry I'm late, Love, but doesn't the surprise make up for it?  Backstage passes!"  He threw an arm around her and kissed her forehead. Assuming all was forgiven for the magic of backstage passes, he attempted to lead her towards the door. Willow became about as immovable as a granite statue.

"I am not going in there," she declared, and crossed her arms over her chest as if her point needed emphasis.

Spike moved to stand in front of her, frowning and trying to pry her arms apart to take her hand.  She jerked away from him.  "What's the matter, Willow? Music!  Dancing!  It's all inside, just like we talked about."

"No, it's not just like we talked about!  Look at me! I can't go in there!  I thought..."  She couldn't bring herself to tell him what she thought.  Just thinking it was embarrassing enough.

Spike cocked his head.  "You look lovely.  A little froufrou maybe, for this crowd, but no one will notice.  We'll get you some proper clothes for the next show."

Willow could almost laugh.  Almost.  In a few days, maybe, this would be funny.  At the moment, it was still upsetting.  How could he think she would go anywhere with him ever again?  It seemed impossible that Spike was really this bad at reading women. Maybe they had to be insane for him to make sense of them.  His naivety of her thoughts and desires would have been cute if it wasn't simultaneously so damn insensitive.

"Come on," he urged.  "We'll miss the opener."

Willow folded.  Her night was already ruined.  It seemed unfair to ruin Spike's as well.  He was so excited about this band, she felt it would be like telling a child there was no Santa Claus to make him take her home.  She gave him a more thorough looking over.  Being on Spike's arm all but guaranteed that no one inside would mess with her, no matter what she wore.    Nobody did bad ass club hopper like Spike. She put her arm around him in return, the feel of the leather coat under her hand reassuring her, and let herself be led inside.

The painfully loud concluding chords of the opening act were dying away as Willow and Spike jostled through the hordes of people for a position closer to the stage.  Spike holding up his backstage passes had done nothing to clear the way.  Flashing a little fang helped some, but when a few of the paler skinned fans did not move, it also revealed that Spike was not the only vampire in the crowd.  Willow clung to him all the harder, determined to pretend she was just another stupid human and hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

The headlining band didn't emerge immediately after the opening act vacated the stage.  They never did. Crew members scurried about, collecting instruments and sound equipment from the last band and setting up everything that the new band would need to do their show.  The comparative quiet of the background house music that the club played between sets allowed Willow and Spike to hear each other.

"How about a drink before the fun starts?" Spike offered.

Willow craned her neck to see over hundreds of heads to where the bar stood on the far left of the room. It looked like most of the other customers had had the same idea.  She couldn't imagine trying to get a bartender's attention in that mess.  "I don't know," she said.  "Looks kinda crowded over there."

"No worries.  You just stay right here and hold our place.  I'll be back in a flash."

Before Willow could protest further, Spike disappeared into the throng, leaving Willow to maintain their position in the ever-shifting mass of bodies.  As she fended off the fourth or fifth elbow that attempted to shove her further back, she began to appreciate the practicality of the spiked cuffs and collars that so many people were wearing.

"Hey!  Hands!" She protested after feeling her ass patted as a snickering cluster of boys brushed past behind her.  Unfortunately, her cries only attracted the attention of more of the guys surrounding her, who began to smirk and leer in her direction.  With Spike conveniently on the other side of the crowd, and out of earshot even for a vampire, given the amount of noise in the place, Willow no longer felt safe.  She was even more acutely aware of how much she stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb.  Or, more accurately, like the sheep in a pack of wolves.

Not that she was any sheep.  Willow was ready and willing to defend herself, should any of her fellow clubbers get it in their heads to give her a hard time.  She had fought demons long enough that she was sure she could take out any one human with her bare hands.  Two or three with magic.  If more than that ganged up on her, though, she just wasn't sure. Things could get out of hand and she might hurt someone who didn't deserve it.  Better to just not get in trouble in the first place.  To that end, where the hell was Spike?

She craned her neck again, but could not catch sight of him.  Whereas she was the only one in the place wearing pale green, and therefore easy to spot, looking for Spike in the sea of black leather was not terribly productive.  For once, he wasn't even the only one in the room with platinum blonde hair. Willow had a moment of shock when she realized that Spike might be the very reason that so many of the others had such hair.  He did have quite a reputation.

Willow froze as she heard the distinct sound of someone behind her sniffing at her hair.  The skin on the back of her neck prickled and she whirled around to find herself staring at the chest of a humongous vampire with the worst blood breath she'd ever had the displeasure to smell.  He grinned at her.  His human face was in place, but Willow had no trouble telling what he was.  She took a step back, which gave him just enough room to lean down and smell her neck. "Mmm... you smell lots better than the rest of this bunch.  Like a... a flower or somethin."

Willow tried to take another step back, but hit the wall of bodies that still surrounded her in every direction.  She couldn't have been more trapped if she'd been locked in a cage with the big brute.  She mentally cursed herself for being so careless.  She'd left the stake and cross she usually carried back at the hotel for fear of offending Spike.

The only useful spell she could think of would be to incinerate him, but everyone around him, at least 15 people, including herself at such close range, would have 3rd degree burns.   The vampire had apparently decided that she would be his intermission drink and was grabbing for her with a very unvampire-like awkwardness.  The preternatural skills he was supposed to be graced with were not enough to make up for his enormous size and he simply could not move as nimbly as a small human girl.

Willow ducked under his arms and dodged to her left, putting herself on the vampire's right side.  Before he could turn, she shoved him as hard as she could, and he stumbled into the group standing next to him. They shouted in annoyance and pushed him away, completely unaware that he could snap their necks with a twitch of his finger.  Willow tried to find a hole in the crowd to duck through, but if it was possible, the place seemed more packed than ever.

The vampire regained his feet, glaring at Willow with rapidly yellowing eyes and lunged for her.  She shoved herself through the people behind her, stepping on several feet and spilling a beer.  She couldn’t get very far, and his time she got the angry shouts, but once again the vampire crashed into someone that wasn't her.

On stage Billy Talent came out to tremendous applause and cheers.  Willow was distracted just long enough for the vampire to reach through her human shield and grab her arm, yanking her up against him.  Nearly out of ideas, Willow scanned her limited field of view for any wooden objects she might be able to levitate through the demon's heart.  No such luck.  Plenty of metal and plastic, not a splinter of wood.

The vampire lowered his head so he could speak directly in Willow's ear to be heard over the lead singer introducing his band.  "You're gonna pay for that little act, bitch.  I was just looking for a snack, but now I think you'll be entertaining me in more ways than these losers.  Let's you and me go find some nice dark corner."  He had a death grip on her wrist and there was no way out of it without gnawing her own arm off.  As he began muscling his way through the crowd, dragging her after him, she closed her eyes and   tried to focus her concentration, preparing for the spell that would destroy him.  Any burns she, or others, got wouldn't be as bad as letting him get any further away with her.

Quite suddenly, Willow found that she was free.  When she opened her eyes, she noticed some dust on her sleeve, but no burns, because she had not completed the spell.  Looking behind her she saw, to her intense relief, Spike, looking thoroughly pissed and twirling what could only be the leg of a barstool.  He held out his hand to her.  She put her own shaking one in it. He tossed down the leg and drew her towards him, wrapping her in his arms and murmuring in her ear, "No one snacks on *my* girl."

Willow let herself be comforted.  Spike had saved the day.  No one had been hurt.  She was still pissed as hell at him, though.  It was his fault she had been in this awful place, and unarmed at that.  But for the moment, being held, being protected, meant more than anything, and so she granted him a reprieve from her anger.  For coming to her rescue, he could have her cooperation for the night, he had earned it.  So, in spite of her desperate desire to go back to the safety of her room at the hotel and put the misery of the evening aside, she would stay and let Spike have his fun.  But he owed her big.

When the band started playing, she tried to forget that she was having a miserable time and bopped her head along to the rhythm, as Spike did.  He still held her tight, so they were careful not to bump their heads together or get her hair caught in his collar. Her awareness of his body pressed along her back became stronger the more they moved and swayed together.  It was not unpleasant.  She was grateful that he did not suggest that they join in the "dancing" that was happening closer to the stage. Almost being eaten was enough for one night, she did not need bruises also.

She was so enfolded in his arms, that she felt it when someone came up behind them and tapped him on the shoulder.  Immediately her eyes went to the discarded stool leg, but Spike only turned calmly to see what was going on.  To their great surprise, two bouncers stood behind them, arms crossed, and stony looks on their faces.  "You two are going to have to leave," one shouted over the music.

“What in hell for?” Spike demanded, moving Willow to stand just behind him.

“We heard you two was causing trouble,” the other bouncer put in.  “Dusted one of our best customers, and broke a stool while you was at it!  Now let’s move!”  Both bouncers reached for Willow and Spike, but stopped in their tracks when Spike vamped and took a step towards them.

“We’ll leave, but you don’t ever touch us.  Got it?” He growled through his fangs.

Reaching hands were quickly withdrawn and the bouncers each stepped aside to make a path for them towards the exit.  Spike, resumed his human features, took Willow’s hand once more, and led her carefully outside.

When the door was shut behind them, and the quiet sounds of the empty night rang dimly in their ears, Spike roared his frustration.  “I can’t fuckin believe it!”  Willow assumed he was upset that he had been thrown out for defending her, an injustice to be sure. “Backstage passes and I don’t even get an autograph!” So she was wrong.  The thumping on the other side of the door grew louder as the band started up the next song.  “Argh!  And now they’re playing my favorite song!  Why didn’t they open with ‘The Ex’?  Least I woulda had one good thing going for this night!”

Willow stood by quietly during his outburst, waiting for him to remember they were on a date, or at least to remember that she was there at all.  Finally, he turned to her with a sigh.  “Sorry for the big letdown, Love.  You must be disappointed.  I’ll make it up to you next time.”

She just smiled and nodded, saying nothing as they walked to her car.  He was so crushed that she didn’t have the heart to tell him then that there wouldn’t be a next time.  He might be an undead stud muffin, but this wasn’t going to work, they were just too different.  Even if she hadn’t known that already, she couldn’t miss the glaring neon sign of this evening that said it loud and clear.  If her happiness depended on Spike, she was out of luck.

~Part: 14~

Relaxing with Fred over a few slices of pizza was a welcome respite for Willow from the craziness that had been the last two weeks.  Wolfram & Hart had reared their ugly heads again, sending some sort of demented psychic to cause Cordelia’s visions to manifest physically and hurt her.  On top of that, there was apartment hunting, Spike avoiding, and occasionally, sleeping to be done.  Just that day, she had finished the first, given up on the second, and was still looking forward to the third.

Three days ago, Fred had finally gathered the courage to leave her room and venture all the way down to the lobby, but she suffered a severe setback since she chose the very moment when Angel was possessed by a womanizing murderer to begin her adventuresome wanderings.  Humiliated that she had been fooled, even for a second, into thinking that he returned her affections, she had retreated to the sanctuary of her room and could not be persuaded to put so much as a toe across the threshold into the hallway.

Willow regretted not being able to spend more time with the other girl, but it couldn’t be helped. Lately, she had only been able to stop by long enough to drop off meals and say a quick hello before jetting off to the next emergency.  Now, at last, the pace had slowed and they were able to enjoy a quiet dinner together, while Willow filled Fred in on the action she inevitably missed behind closed doors.

For her part, Fred always wanted to hear what went on with the rest of the world, fascinated by it, even as it terrified her.  Stories about Willow and Spike interested her most of all now, since they didn’t have the underlying awkwardness of any tales involving Angel.  Willow knew how the poor girl had had her hopes shattered by the evil, dirty old man that had taken over Angel’s body for a brief time and tried to take advantage of her feelings.  Coming back from something like that took time, and if it made Fred more comfortable to not talk about Angel for awhile, Willow would accommodate her gladly.

Therefore, after the newsy updates assuring her that Cordelia was doing fine and no one was any immediate danger, Willow was left with the one subject that she really wanted to talk about, even though she wasn’t sure that Fred would want to listen to her complain about Spike yet again.  She needn’t have worried. Maybe it was the lack of human company that made Fred so attuned to Willow, or maybe Fred was just the sensitive type, but she knew exactly what was on her friend’s mind.

“What’s been going on with Spike?” She asked, a knowing little smile on her lips.

Surprised, Willow paused with a half-eaten slice of pepperoni pizza hanging from her hand, on its way to her mouth.  Smiling in return, she put the pizza down and wiped her greasy fingers on a paper napkin.  “You really wanna know?”  Fred nodded, sipping her Coke.

“Well, you know what a disaster our last date was?” More nodding.  “He still thinks he can win me back by being romantic and charming and giving me that sexy little tilt of his head, batting those beautiful, penetrating… eyes,”  Her words began to drift, lost in thoughts of a vampire she had no business having those thoughts about.  She shook her head, coming back to reality.  “He’s a pain!  He still asks me out every single day!  And then, then there’s the oh-so-thoughtful gifts!”  She felt the rant coming and didn’t bother to hold it in.

“I know he has good intentions, but he’s just so… impossible!  Last week I came back to my room after a long day and I find a bouquet of wild flowers on the night stand.  Pretty, but, hello?  Allergies!  Cordy had to come running and take them away before my throat closed up!  Then I had to wash all the curtains and bed sheets and stuff and get the rug vacuumed so the pollen wouldn’t kill me in my sleep!”  Willow pulled back on the rant a little, recognizing that it was starting to make her exaggerate.  Of course the pollen wouldn’t kill her.  Well, unless it was demon pollen, heck anything was possible around here.  But back to ranting.

“Then he gives me this necklace.  It was pretty at first and he was so sweet about it.  He felt really bad for the flowers, so he went out of his way to find out what kind of jewelry I’d like.  But then, being Spike, he bought it from some shady street vendor, and now look!”  Willow pulled down the neck of her tee shirt and moved aside a small gold locket so Fred could see where it was turning her skin green, revealing it as a fake.

Fred leaned forward to examine both Willow’s neck and the locket.  Sitting back, she started to giggle.

Already frustrated, Willow demanded, “What’s so funny about that?”

“You’re still wearing it,” Fred pointed out.  Willow’s stricken look, when she realized she had no comeback, made her laugh all the harder.

When she calmed down, she resumed her role as inquisitor.  “What’s in it?”  She wanted to know.

Willow, who’d already tucked the locket back in her shirt, darted her eyes around the room, looking for anything at all to distract the other girl. Desperate, she played dumb.  “What’s in what?  Hey, do you want another Coke?  ‘Cause I can get us some downstairs.”

Fred was not deterred.  “No, thanks.  What’s in the locket?  I think you would’ve taken it off if you didn’t like what was in there.”

Willow met her eyes, saw how her brows were raised in question and knew she wasn’t getting out of this.  She lifted the locket out of her shirt again and pressed the tiny latch on the side to open it.  Curled in the very center of the hollow portion was a single lock of white-blond hair.

Fred squealed like a 13 year old girl.  “Ohhh, how sweet of him!  What a darling!  Willow, how can you say no to a man who’d give you the hair off his head?”  

Willow smiled in spite of herself.  She never pictured Fred as the squealing type.  And she was right.  The green lines on her neck where the chain rubbed on her skin had annoyed her, and she’d pointed them out to Spike to reinforce her claim that she wouldn’t date him again, but then she’d turned away and never actually removed the necklace.  For some reason, it was much easier to reject Spike to his face than to reject such a personal gift.

Where he’d come up with the idea, she couldn’t guess. Did he know that his hair was her favorite of his features?  Surely, he had no clue that during the times when she let herself feel soft towards him, when inevitable fantasies of what it would be like to be with him danced through her mind, they always showed her with her fingers clenched in his hair as he kissed her, ravaged her, made her his.  No, he couldn’t know. She kept his gift because, even banishing him from her side, she could not banish her own thoughts.

Willow sighed, knowing Fred expected some sort of explanation for her reluctance where Spike was concerned.  “You weren’t there.  You have no idea what it’s like to be out with him!  He’s so….oblivious! Totally *not* tuned in to anything but his own little world.  Seriously, reality and Spike have never met.”  

Fred gave her a wistful smile, “He gave you his hair. Didn’t you tell me how his hair is always perfectly styled?  He risked a piece of his image for you.”

Willow narrowed her eyes, wondering if Fred was really still thinking about Spike.  He certainly wasn’t the only vampire in the building that was a tad obsessed with his hair and his image.  At some point the girl was really going to have to get out of the room and meet a guy besides Angel.  Her obsession with him was bordering on unhealthy.  Not that any of her other habits were particularly common to those in good mental health.

In effort to distract her from any further thoughts of their studly leader, Willow offered up the final tidbit of her Spike saga.  “There’s more,” she admitted.  Fred visibly returned from the happy place she’d retreated to that undoubtedly featured herself and Angel walking on a beach by the moonlight wearing only thongs.

“You mean, there was something after the necklace?”

Willow nodded.  “There was chocolate.  Really, really good chocolate.  And a poem.”  She pressed her lips together, trying not to start laughing again when she thought of the poem, if it could really be called that.

Fred grinned at her, knowing that Spike had finally remembered the key to every girl’s heart.  She had not been in Pylea so long as to forget the tingly happiness of opening a box of truffles presented by a shy classmate and fellow physicist when revealing his crush on her.

Seeing she had Fred’s full attention, Willow continued, “I think he even went to the mall and paid full price for the chocolate.”  Recalling how he had proudly presented the candy to her, she added, “It had a ribbon on the box.”

Fred hadn’t forgotten the other half of the story.  “I just love chocolate.  But what about the poem?  What’d he say?”

Willow knew she’d never be able to recite the poem without laughing, so she pulled a small card from the back pocket of her jeans and handed it to Fred. Besides, there was no need for her to know that she had it memorized.  It didn’t occur to her that carrying around the card itself spoke volumes.

Fred snatched the card eagerly, flipped it open and began to read out loud, making her voice dramatic and affecting a masculine tone.  The poem paid homage first to Willow’s flaming hair, and then went about worshiping several of her other features using excessive adjectives, before coming to a close with the inevitable declaration of her utter perfection.

When she finished, she handed the card back, giggling uncontrollably.  Willow soon joined in.  “Did I ever tell you his nickname when he was human was William the Bloody Awful Poet?”

Trying to stifle her laughter with her hands over her mouth, Fred nodded and mumbled, “I can see why!”  When she had recovered from her fit of giggles, she added, “He’s trying, Willow.  He really is.  I think you should give him another chance.”  When Willow started to object, Fred held up her hand to quiet her.  “I think you want to give him another chance.  Why else would you show me all this stuff?  You wanted to be talked into it.  Didn’t you?”

Denying it all would be so easy, but Willow had too much respect for her friend to not at least consider what she said before she spoke.  Why was she still carrying around that ridiculous poem?  Was she maybe just a little bit flattered that someone had written poetry about her, regardless of the quality?  Was she even a little proud to show it off?  Granted, she’d also showed that he’d bought her fake jewelry, but the thought behind it had been real enough.  Real enough that she still wore it, even if he didn’t know.

Taking a deep breath, Willow decided to go with the truth. “Talk me into it, Fred.”

More than willing to cooperate, Fred began reciting all the wonderful things she knew about Spike and why Willow should give him another chance.  Everything she said was something that Willow herself had told her, only with a positive spin on it.  She didn’t even know Spike personally, so of course she didn’t have any of her own information to add.  It didn’t matter. Hearing her own words turned around to show how sweet and generous Spike really tried to be was more than enough convincing for Willow.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” she said, laughing.  “I’ll give him another chance, on one condition.”  Fred gave her a questioning look.  “You come and eat lunch in my room tomorrow.”

The implication hung heavily between them.  Willow’s room was an unknown.  It might not be safe.  Anything could happen there.  But Willow would be there and she wasn’t scared.  Fred nodded, once, deliberately. “I’ll be there.”

Knowing what the words had cost her, Willow reached out and gave her hand a squeeze.  “I’ll go tell Spike the good news.  And I’ll see you tomorrow!”  She gathered up the remains of their dinner and left before Fred had a chance to change her mind.

Downstairs, she disposed of the empty pizza boxes and looked around the lobby for Spike, who at this time of night was usually hanging around harassing the legitimate employees of Angel Investigations until there was a case that promised some sort of fight or violence.  He was nowhere to be seen.  Impatient to find him now that she actually wanted to see him, she turned to Cordelia, who was just hanging up the phone after taking a message for Angel.  “Where’s Spike?” She asked.

Cordy looked up and frowned, gesturing out the front door.  “He took off just a little while ago.  He was pretty pissed, muttering something about the curse of vampire hearing, ungrateful bints, and wasting perfectly good words on deaf ears.  Oh, that and he said, ‘If Willow comes by, tell her William the Bloody won’t be bothering her anymore.’”  Cordy smiled brightly, “Guess you finally convinced him to back off, huh?”

Willow didn’t answer.  She was already heading out the front door at a dead run, clutching the tiny locket and its precious contents to her heart.

~Part: 15~

Reaching the end of the block, Willow stopped running long enough to catch her breath.  Standing there, looking around, she realized that there was no way to know which way Spike might have gone.  Still, she refused to go back to the hotel until she found him, so she wandered down the street, trying to imagine where he could be.  She stuck her head into a few bars along the way, earning herself stern looks from bartenders assuming her to be underage, but no blonde heads stood out from the crowds.

She considered a locator spell.  It would be easy enough to perform with the hair in the locket, but it would draw quite a bit of attention if she did it out in the middle of the street and she was already far enough from the hotel that she might as well keep looking around for a little while as long as she was out.

This early in the evening, the sidewalks still teemed with people, all going about their lives, oblivious to Willow’s desperate search.  Weaving through the multitude of bodies, she almost missed a place that definitely warranted investigation.  The spell that protected Caritas from violence, also partially cloaked it from prying human eyes that wouldn’t understand what they saw within.  Being a witch, Willow had some ability to see through the cloaking, but she could still be fooled if she wasn’t paying attention.

When she noticed that the surrounding area looked familiar, she realized where she was and scanned the vicinity for the demon bar.  Almost as soon as she wanted to see it, it appeared in front of her.  She hurried down the stairs, threw open the door, and held her breath, darting her eyes around the room, quietly wishing to find what she sought.  And there he was, sitting alone at a table near the back, with a bottle and a shot glass on the table in front of him.  Only he wasn’t bothering much with the shot glass, opting to drink straight from the bottle.

Willow hesitated, wondering if she shouldn’t just leave him be and try to talk to him later when his anger had subsided some.  Lorne interrupted her musings a moment later, when he appeared at her side and guided her gently to the far side of the room, away from Spike.  “Oh, cupcake, I don’t know if you should be here.  It isn’t looking good for Mr. Grumpy Pants tonight.  I sure wouldn’t want to come between him and that bottle.  Heck, one of our nice waitresses tried to take it, just to pour it in a glass for him, and, well, let’s just say I had to give her the rest of the night off.”  He patted her shoulder, and gestured back to the door.  “As much as I love to see you, sweet pea, you might want to think about vamoosing before things get ugly…ier.”

Lorne stood in front of Willow in such a way that he blocked her view of Spike and the only direction she was free to move was towards the door.  He didn’t know her well enough to realize how stubborn she could be.  She’d made up her mind to find Spike and talk to him and that’s what she was going to do, and even an army of benevolent green demons would not stand in her way.

She smiled gratefully up at him and nodded, turning away, as if to leave.  Of course, as soon as he hurried away to attend other customers, she made a beeline for Spike’s table, weaving her way around the clusters of odd looking patrons and scattered chairs.  Even before he noticed her, she was close enough to see that the bottle he held was nearly 2/3rds empty, and he couldn’t have been at the bar for more than half an hour.  This really would be unpleasant.

His eyes struggled to focus on her as she approached.  The scowl on his face would’ve been enough to scare off beings a lot of more powerful than Willow, but she was undeterred.  She pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.  “I’m sorry,” she said, before he could object to her mere presence.

He sneered at her.  “Sorry, is it?”  Bringing the bottle to his lips, he upended it, gulping the contents.  Willow found herself fascinated with the way the muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed.  Such an attractive throat, really.  Her eyes followed it down to the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, but were quickly drawn back to his own eyes when he put the bottle down and continued, “Are you sorry you had a laugh at my expense, or just sorry I heard you and now you have to feel bad about it?”

She wanted to get angry at him, tell him he was being stupid and childish.  Somehow that didn’t seem like it would win her many friends, so she held her temper in check and tried to charm him.  “I’m sorry I didn’t show you how much I appreciated your poem.  I laughed because I didn’t know how to react.  No one ever wrote poetry about me before, and, you know, I don’t even read poetry, usually, so it might be really good, and I wouldn’t even know it!”

Spike just laughed at her and signaled a waitress for a new bottle of whiskey.  Willow couldn’t hide her alarm.  “You drank that whole bottle and you want more?”

He stopped laughing and glared at her.  “Yeah, what of it?”

“Aren’t you drunk enough already?”

“Not a bit drunk.  That was only my second one.”  He leaned forward across the table and smirked at her.  “Keep forgetting, don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“Demon, love.  That’s what I am.  Takes a good 15 or 20 bottles of that stuff to get me pissed.”  Willow gaped at him.  “’Sright.  You would be surprised, wouldn’t you?  You just keep treating me like some panting frat boy chasing after your skirt.  Well, let me tell you something, *pet*,” the emphasis he put on the nickname made it sound unfriendly.  “I’m not a boy at all, and I don’t appreciate little girls laughing at me.  And I really don’t like to be teased.”

All the implications circled in Willow’s mind, blurring into one another, until she couldn’t latch on to one to respond to, so she just sat there, speechless.

“Aww, have I hurt your feelings, love?”  He asked with mock concern.  Sitting back in his chair, he ripped the top off the newly arrived liquor bottle and said, “Now you know how it feels.”  Raising an eyebrow at her for emphasis, he took at drink, smacked his lips, and slammed the bottle down on the table.

On stage, a gigantic male vampire finished up an anguished rendition of “Wind Beneath My Wings”.  Eager to keep the bar from totally clearing out, Lorne scrambled up and took the mike, transitioning into a smooth jazzy tune that soothed everyone’s sensitive eardrums.

The more palatable music did nothing to improve Spike’s mood.  He all but ignored the girl sitting across from him, trying desperately not to let the tears spill from her eyes.  He cast an occasional, irritated glance at her as she tried to regain the power of speech that she’d apparently lost under the force of his verbal assault.  The abject misery that shone on her face did nothing to soften his position.  No, he wouldn’t look at that quivering lip and feel the tiniest bit of shame that he’d caused its pathetic tremble.

When he could stand it no longer, he rolled his eyes, expelled a sigh that conveyed his disgust with them both and said, “Look, why don’t you just go on home?  You got yourself down here, I’m sure you can find your way back alright.  There’s no point in talking to me anymore tonight.  It’ll just make us both say things we might regret.”

Willow studied his face, and though she didn’t see the love or forgiveness she yearned for, she didn’t see anger either, only fatigue and melancholy.  Yet she was so overwhelmed with relief seeing that the fierceness had left him, that her defenses crumbled and the tears came gushing forth, faster than she could grab a napkin to wipe at them.

Frustrated and confused that his neutral words seemed to have made her even more upset, Spike pushed back from the table and stood.  “Fine,” he said.  “If you won’t go, I will.  I sure as hell didn’t come here to watch some silly chit fall apart on me.”

She grabbed at his sleeve as he strode by, desperation tinting her voice, “No, Spike!  Please!”  But it was too little too late.  He pulled away from her and was gone.

For a brief moment, she contemplated following him, but it hadn’t done her much good so far.  Admitting defeat, at least for the night, she slumped down in her chair and turned her attention back to the table in front of her.  And more specifically, the whiskey bottle and shot glass it still held.  Well, maybe the night didn’t have to be a total waste after all, she thought, as she pulled them towards her and poured the first shot.

~~

The hand gently stroking her back woke her, but slowly, one brain cell at a time.  Eventually, she became aware enough to know that her head was resting on a hard surface, her cheek pressed against something sticky, and her back was bent forward awkwardly since she was still sitting in a chair.  Above her, she could hear voices she recognized, but she couldn’t be bothered to open her eyes and see their faces.

“Thanks for coming, Angel.  I know this isn’t the kind of rescue mission you usually handle, but I thought you’d make an exception for our incapacitated little friend here.”

“Yeah, of course.  I’m glad you called me.  I’ll take her back to the hotel, let her sleep it off.  I’m sorry if she was any trouble, Lorne.”

“Oh, no trouble really.  Just sat right there, quiet as a mouse, until she passed out flat on the table.  If I’d had any idea how much she was actually drinking, I would’ve taken away the bottle.  Terrible what a broken heart can drive people to.  I sure hope they can patch it up.”

Angel made an incoherent grunt in response, taking the dead weight of the still mostly-unconscious witch in his arms.  Willow managed to moan as the motion caused her stomach to roll and her head to throb.  “Whew!  Even Spike’s breath wasn’t that bad when he came in,” Angel grumbled, carefully maneuvering out of the bar.

The next time Willow woke, it was from a sudden, urgent need to relieve her bladder.  She found herself in the bathroom adjoining her hotel room before conscious thought had caught up to her being out of bed at all.  Once her immediate need was satisfied, she turned right around and threw up noisily.  Drained and dizzy, she sank down on the floor next to the toilet, and reached one arm up just far enough to flush.  She noticed that she wore only her underwear and felt a flush of shame realizing that Angel must’ve undressed her and put her to bed.  She vaguely remembered him carrying her home.  Still, it was awfully bold of him to take the clothes off her unconscious body.  Sure, they were just friends now, but he was still a guy and that should dictate some level of propriety.  Or not.

The thought evaporated in the next bout of regurgitating everything she’d eaten for what had to be the last three weeks.  When she was finally reduced to dry heaves, she shuffled over to the sink to rinse her mouth.  She brushed her teeth, using only water, knowing she’d never be able to stand the taste of the toothpaste just yet, and then carefully made her way back to the bed and crawled in.

It seemed like she had just fallen asleep when there was a knock on the door.  When she opened her eyes, a glance at the bedside clock told her that several hours had passed in reality.  Her lips seemed to be glued together and it actually hurt to open them, but at last she managed to peel her tongue off the roof of her mouth and squeak, “Come in.”  The doorknob turning told her that her visitor must be one of the vampires because there was no way a human could’ve heard her invitation.

It was Angel.  Willow found herself checking to be sure the sheet protected her modesty, and then frowned at the pointlessness of it.  Obviously, he’d seen the show.  She tried to lift her head to watch him walk towards her, but her head disagreed with the motion so she let it drop back to the pillow.  The only reason she could come up with for Angel to be visiting her was to lecture her on the irresponsibility of her actions.  Just thinking of about it made her tense, and being tense made her head hurt.  When she finally managed to look at the vampire, she realized he was carrying a can of ginger ale and a bottle of aspirin.  There was hope for him yet.

He set his offerings down on the night stand and turned back to smile at Willow.  “How do you feel?” He asked, his voice considerately low.

Willow tried out her voice again, but it wasn’t going to well.  She gestured for the can and, getting the idea, he popped it open and handed it to her.  With her mouth refreshingly moistened, she managed to say, “Been better.  How’s Spike?”

“Hmm,” he sat down on the end of the bed, trying to decide how to answer.  His weight tugged the sheet down far enough to reveal the lacy top of one bra cup.  Quickly leaping from the bed, Angel turned his back to give Willow a chance to cover herself.  Looking down to see what he had seen, she sighed and yanked the sheet back up.

“What’s your problem?” She muttered. “Not like ya didn’t see more than that when you undressed me.”

Whirling back to face her again, Angel’s face twisted in comical horror.  “What?  You think I?  No, Willow!  Cordy!  It was Cordy, she helped me.  I mean, I just brought you in here and she, uh, she…” he gestured helplessly to where she lay in the bed.

If it wouldn’t have hurt her head so much, Willow would’ve laughed.  She didn’t know why she’d just assumed that Angel must’ve been the one undress her, but she found she wasn’t any less ashamed to know that Cordy had also seen her passed-out drunk, even if Angel hadn’t seen her mostly naked.  Well, not until now.  She was a little bit sad to find that they hadn’t moved passed the awkward sexual tension that had colored their relationship for the first few weeks she’d been in LA.  Apparently, they’d just suppressed it when Spike showed up.

Thoughts of Spike made her ask her first question again.  Deliberately deciding to remain standing for the duration of his visit in Willow’s room, Angel told her, “I don’t really know.  He came in last night about an hour before Lorne called me to come and get you.  I asked him if he wanted to talk, and, uh, well he hit me,” Angel’s fingers trailed gingerly over his ribs, “then he just shut himself in his room and he hasn’t come out since.”

Willow cast her eyes down, guilty all over again for what she’d said about Spike’s poem, for her failure to give him a fair chance while she still could, for hurting him.  “What did you do to him, Willow?”  The tone in his voice jerked her head up, and for just an instant, she had a glimpse of what was once between the two vampires.  It was something ancient and unfathomable.  The kind of bond she would never have with Spike or anyone else, even if she spent the rest of her life with them.  And then it was gone and he said, “Sorry, I’ve just never seen either one of you like this.  I’m thinking that if Lorne’s ever been wrong, it’s about this.  Maybe I should take him back to Sunnydale.”

“No!” Willow shouted, before she even realized she was going to respond.  A little startled, Angel raised his eyebrows, the question not needing to be asked.  “I mean, I don’t want him to go.  I want to see if we can make this work, because I think it *is* right, somehow, deep down.  Really, really, really deep down.  He must care about me or he wouldn’t care what I said about him.  And… I care about him too.  There’s not much point in saying I don’t or, well, wouldn’t really be having this hangover problem, would I?”

They both looked up when there was another knock on the door.  Their eyes met, and when Willow shrugged, Angel went to answer it.  He swung the door inward, and stepped back.  Hesitantly, Fred took a step inside.  Then she looked back and forth between Angel, the handsome man who had saved her from monsters, and Willow, her supposed friend, who was obviously not wearing much clothing, and furthermore did not seem uncomfortable with Angel being there while she was in such a state.  Her face scrunched up as the devastating conclusion was reached.  “Oh,” was all she could manage to say before turning, and fleeing the room for the safety of her own.

Willow stared after her for a moment, in total shock, then looked at the clock, saw that it was noon, and remembered the promised lunch.  Then she looked down at herself, up at Angel, and realization dawned.  “Shit!”

Angel turned back to her, a big grin on his face.  “Hey!  Fred was out of her room!  Isn’t that great?”

~Part: 16~

Willow didn’t have a prayer of getting any more sleep once she’d explained Fred’s rapid departure to Angel. Her head throbbed, both from the hangover, and from oversleeping. With Angel off trying to make nice with Fred, Willow climbed out of bed, swallowed a few of the aspirin, and got dressed. The first order of business was finding fresh coffee. Everything else, spurned lovers and betrayed friends, could just wait until she felt up to dealing with them.

In the lobby, Willow was greeted by Cordelia, who occupied her usual spot at the reception desk, and tried to hide her amusement at Willow’s obvious discomfort. "Have a good rest, Will?" She asked.

Glaring at the other woman, fully aware that she knew exactly how *not* good a rest it had been, she uttered a single word, "Coffee."

Cordelia gestured to the pot behind her, "Just made some. Help yourself." While Willow loaded the mug with cream and sugar, Cordy was suspiciously quiet, almost as though she was willing to let the whole situation go without any further commentary. Not in the mood to join Wesley in his office to check on any actual work, Willow curled up on one of the lobby couches and sipped the coffee, willing her stomach not to reject it. Cordy let her have a few swallows before got up, came around to stand in front of her desk and started in with the questions. "So, you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"What were you doing out all night? When Angel carried you in, I thought you were dead. Did you ever find Spike?"

Willow sighed. "Remember how I didn’t want to talk about it?"

Cordy got defensive. "Hey! I had to put your sorry butt to bed, I think I deserve a little info for my effort." She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, the posture a perfect match for her commanding tone.

A moment later, she was rescued by Angel’s appearance in the lobby. "Willow, you need to go talk to Fred. She won’t open the door. She still thinks that you and I… well, from what she saw, she got the idea that-"

Willow cut him off. "Yeah, I know what she thinks. I’ll go talk to her, if she’ll even open the door for me anymore."

"Wait!" Cordy’s voice halted her on the first step. "What does she think that you did? What did you do?"

Willow met Angel’s eyes and they came to a silent agreement. He would deal with Cordy if she would deal with Fred. She climbed the stairs to the dreaded confrontation without another word. Sounds of Angel trying to explain the situation without making it sound worse than it already did followed her, fading out as she made her way down the hall to Fred’s room.

Her knock was answered with a bitter, "Go away." So she knocked again and was rewarded with silence from the other side of the door.

"Fred, it’s me," she called out, the volume of her own voice eliciting another throb from her tortured head. The silence continued. "I know you can hear me," she went on. "It’s not what you think. He – he just came in to check on me ‘cause I wasn’t feeling well." Shouting through a door was not the way to explain every detail of the previous night that had led up to her not feeling well.

Willow paused to see if her brief explanation would do to get the door opened. Nothing happened, so she tried another approach. "Come on, after what we talked about yesterday, you know I’d never go after Angel. I want Spike, remember? I showed you the locket I was wearing and everything."

A metallic thud signaled the lock sliding back into the wooden door. A moment later, Fred peered out at her, eyes red and puffy from sobbing over the alleged betrayal. "You really didn’t, you know – with Angel?"

Willow shook her head as hard as she could without vomiting. "Nope, nothing like it. Don’t even wanna, and neither does he. We’re just friends."

The door opened wider, and Willow’s shoulders sagged with relief at the victory as she accepted the invitation and went inside.

~*~

‘I am the biggest jackass to ever walk the earth’, Spike decided, throwing himself back down on his bed. ‘She wants me, even admitted it to her little hermit friend, and I blew her off.’ It gave him a fluttery feeling in his middle that she had been wearing the locket he gave her, even though she complained about it to him. He wondered why she hadn’t been feeling well, and wanted to go ask, but that would mean admitting that he had been eavesdropping on her again, something he should probably stop anyway.

Once again, Spike found himself having to make it up to Willow. Would it always be like this between them? Him screwing up and making it better, only to screw up all over again? Was it worth the effort? Sitting up, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a faded, torn picture of Willow. It was faded because it had been in that pocket for nearly 2 years, ever since he stole it from Buffy’s house. It was torn because it had been a picture of Willow and Xander, but he only wanted the Willow half.

He gazed into eyes, still vivid green, in spite of the fading, and could almost imagine that they were looking back at him. Imagine that the smile on her face was for him. That her arm reached out to wrap around him, not that foolish boy. He found that he missed her, though she was only down the hall from him. He missed the way things were between them before they had come to LA. It used to be so simple. They were there for each other when it really mattered, fought evil together, and could just *be* together, without any awkwardness or expectations.

They could never go back to that, not after all that had happened. It was the way the world usually worked. There was no going back, only forward. Whatever the future held for them, it would be different, but it didn’t have to be worse. He would make it up to her again, because she was definitely worth it, and because he couldn’t stand the thought of his life without her in it, in some form, and since circumstances now dictated that the only way she would be in his life was as his lover, well, so be it, he liked that just fine.

The only problem was, he couldn’t quite come up with a good enough gesture to show how he felt. He considered and rejected several ideas, everything from jewels, to exotic vacations, but nothing seemed personal enough to really convey his love. And he did love her, he knew he did, as much as it hurt to admit that another person had such an ability to affect his life. As long as he was helplessly in love, she might as well know it, which brought him back to how to show her. Ever since being chipped, he was a bit short on funds, which ruled out the extravagant gifts, even if he thought they would make the impression he wanted, which he didn’t.

Conceding that he was in over his head, he was resolved to ask for advice, no matter how much he hated the idea of admitting he couldn’t handle wooing his own woman. He wasn’t the only hopeless romantic in the building and he was confident that, if nothing else, Angel would be good for a few bits of inspiration.

Spike rolled his eyes and debated retreating back up the stairs when he found Angel gabbing with his seer, who could apparently see lots of interesting things about complete strangers, but was utterly clueless about her own feelings for her boss. It was an epidemic that disgusted him, and made him suspect the work of dark forces. Why did everyone who spent any amount of time in the hotel wind up with a thing for Angel? He counted his blessings that, even though his thing for Angel was long over, it seemed to grant him immunity to whatever it was that had made even Willow throw herself at the older vampire. Spike could see Wesley sitting in his office, head down, apparently poring over the files on his desk. The tension in his shoulders, his shallow breathing and rapid heart rate, told Spike he was doing no such thing. He was listening to Angel and Cordelia talk about Willow and Fred, and practically exploding with jealousy that the three women commanded so much more of Angel’s attention than he did.

Spike shook his head, almost feeling sorry for the demon hunter. Angel’s soul seemed to have restored most of his human inhibitions around other men, at least, living men. Of all the players in this sickening love triangle, or quadrangle, or whatever the old bastard had unwittingly put himself in the middle of, Wesley stood the least chance of coming out of it with a happy ending.

The whole thing just made Spike all the more eager to resolve things with Willow and convince her that her home was still in Sunnydale, before all hell broke loose in LA. The sad thing was, when it happened, Angel wouldn’t even know why.

Best pump him for information while he was still protected by the shield of his mourning for Buffy. When that fell away, Spike was certain the real war for his affection would begin. Reluctantly, he approached the reception desk and cleared his throat to make his presence known. He resisted the impulse to squirm when two sets of eyes focused on him, looked him over, and clearly found something wanting in their assessment. Ok, so maybe he could’ve used a shower before he came down, but at least he’d put on clothes, so they couldn’t complain too much. He realized they were waiting for him to say something.

"Say, Angel, mate, think we could have a word in your office?" His solicitous tone, and the lack of derision when he said Angel’s name, raised the level on the suspicious meter about 10 points.

Angel was so used to being dismissive of Spike that even he was surprised when he found himself simply nodding and leading the other vampire into his office without so much as demanding to know the reason for the request. His curiosity to know what had so affected Spike as to overcome his automatic sarcasm had gotten the best of him.

Spike perched nervously on the edge of the chair in front of the desk, while Angel moved around to sit behind it. "What is it, Spike? Come to say you couldn’t cut it with Willow and you’re leaving?" There. It felt good to fall back into the old pattern of insults.

"Half right, but don’t get your hopes up. Not leavin’ till I make things right."

Angel found that he was almost disappointed at the comeback. Where was the snarking? What *had* Willow done to him? He knew he shouldn’t care, but the tiniest bit of the old possessiveness threatened to rear its head, seeing Spike so beaten down that he couldn’t even keep up his end of their usual banter.

Before he knew that he was going to do it, Spike had told Angel everything he didn’t already know. The repeatedly awful gifts to Willow, overhearing her less-than-kind remarks, and leaving her at Caritas. Angel, for his part, just listened, not interrupting until it seemed that the tale had played itself out. "What are you going to do now?" He asked.

Spike flopped back in the chair, his distress carried in every part of his body, from the downward curve of his mouth to his restless feet, tapping on the floor, beating out the frustration he could barely voice. "That’s why I’m in here. I don’t know what to do anymore, Angel. You were always good at this stuff. Buying just the right gift, catching the perfect young virgins for – " he trailed off, seeing the quiet horror on Angel’s face. "Sorry. Point is, anyone you set your sights on, you got. How’d you do it?"

Angel pressed his palms together and rested his chin on his fingertips, considering the question, then asked one of his own. "How’d I do it with you?"

Spike shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was just like Angel to try to teach him in the hardest way possible. God forbid he just answer the question directly. "You gave me the night," he said softly. "How could I do anything but love you for it? You never had to try with me."

Angel nodded. "But I did." It wasn’t a question.

Spike stared at the wall, seeing much more than the charts of demonic activity in LA that were tacked up there. "Yeah, you did. Showed me your world. Taught me all the things you were, all the things we could do. It was… " He stopped again. He was going to say it was romantic, but he wasn’t willing to say as much out loud. Not anymore.

Angel nodded again. "Show her your world, Spike. Give her the night."

Spike gaped at him. "You want me to make her a vampire? I can’t! Even if I – "

But Angel looked so shocked he knew he had it wrong. "No! Are you crazy! Of course I don’t want you to turn her. God, Spike, I know you’re thick, but…" He stopped, closed his eyes for a moment, and suppressed the urge to rant and rave and act like the sire he once was. He’d given up that right long ago and it wasn’t going to help anything now anyway. Two people he cared about needed help and yelling at Spike was not helping. "I meant," he said, in a normal tone. "You should take her out for a romantic night in the moonlight. Have a picnic under the stars or something."

"Oh, right. Makes sense," Spike said, offhand as if he’d been thinking the very same thing. "Thanks, then. Wish me luck." And without waiting for luck to be offered, he left the office without a backwards glance at the vampire that sat looking after him, shaking his head.

~Part: 17~

Everything was ready.  For two whole nights, Spike had searched out gourmet shops all over the city searching for the ingredients for a perfect picnic.  He bought every type of food that he’d ever heard of that could be considered romantic or aphrodisiacal.  As a result, he now had two wicker baskets hidden in his room, filled to bursting with wine and cheese, caviar with fancy crackers, strawberries with fresh cream, figs, chocolate truffles, steamed oysters, and asparagus. He couldn’t quite make out what a lot of it had to do with sex, especially the asparagus, which smelled atrocious to him, but he wasn’t willing to risk leaving out any item that might prove to be the key to a romantic evening.  He’d even found a small box of plastic utensils in the grocery store that claimed they were perfect for picnics.  A package of red, white, and blue paper plates with fireworks on them caught his eye, and he’d bought those as well, hoping they would inspire some fireworks of a different kind.  

Now all he had to do was make the date.  If Willow refused him, he was going to be out a good chunk of his meager savings.  Most of the food was sure to be ruined.

That’s how he found himself pacing the hall in front of her door, going over countless scenarios for asking her out in his head, each of which ended with him getting shot down in a more humiliating way than the one before.  He knew he was asking a lot.  Not only did he want her to forgive him for his behavior at the bar, but he wanted her to willingly spend time with him.  The odds were not in his favor.  Still, he had to try.

He could hear her in the room, though he couldn’t understand what she was saying.  He assumed she must be on the phone, and he used the ruse of not wanting to interrupt her as an excuse to procrastinate from knocking on her door.  The more he thought about what he was about to do, the more he wanted to run back to his room and pretend he never had any intention of talking to Willow.  At last, he heard her fall silent and he knew the time had come.

Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing a startled witch on the other side. He caught her furtive motion as she slipped something around behind her back.

“What are you doing here?” Willow asked, at the same time Spike asked, “What’s behind your back?”

“You first,” Spike insisted.

To his surprise, Willow brought a small, brightly wrapped box out from behind her back without any argument and held it out to him.  “It’s for you.  It’s a present, because I wanted you to know that I really meant it when I said I was sorry.”

“A present?”  Spike asked, his eyes wide in disbelief as he gently took the box from her.  “For me?  But I was going to… ah, that can wait; let’s see what we’ve got here!”

He started to tug at the ribbon, but Willow put her hands over his.  He paused and returned his attention to her.  “Not here, Spike, okay?  It’s kinda personal.”

She gave him a pleading look that silently begged him not to ask questions.  Too overwhelmed that she was even speaking to him to object, he nodded and said, “Right then.  Let’s go over to my room.  Got a bit of a surprise for you, too, and that’s where I left it.”

When they reached his room, Spike sat down on his bed with the box in his lap and looked expectantly at her. Closing the door, she motioned for him to go ahead and unwrap it.

Employing uncharacteristic delicacy, Spike untied the ribbon, laid it aside, and then lifted off the top of the box.  Inside, wrapped in red tissue paper, he found a beautiful crystal wine goblet.  Spike held it up to the light, admiring the way it made colorful prisms on the walls.  “It’s lovely, Willow,” he told her honestly.

“Um, there’s more to it, actually.”  She gestured back to the box, where he discovered a small card.  It instructed him that, to receive his true gift, he should tap the rim of the glass three times with his fingernail.  When he’d read it, he looked back up at her and she added, “It only works once, so you might want to save it for later.”

Not the type to delay gratification, Spike put the note down and picked up the goblet again.  He tapped it three times, making the crystal ring like a delicate bell under his nail.  As soon as the third tap connected, a bright white light surrounded the goblet, totally concealing it within the brilliant glow.  It lasted only a moment, and when it faded, it revealed that the wine glass was now filled with deep red blood.

Spike’s surprise shifted from the glass in his hand, to the girl by his door, when she gasped softly and stumbled.  Willow caught herself and then moved to sit in the chair by the wall.  Understanding washed over Spike’s face and he set the goblet down with greatest care on the nightstand and then came over to kneel in front of Willow.  He took her hands and looked up into her eyes.  “It’s yours.”  It was a statement, not a question, but she answered anyway.

“Yes.  I wanted to give you something from my heart, and, hey, doesn’t get much more straight from the heart than that, right?”

He stood up, pulling her to her feet with him.  She wavered a little, but he held her tight against him. When he lowered his head, she did not turn her face away.  In slow motion, giving her every opportunity to stop him, he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first, more insistently when he felt her press back.

Their first kiss did not last an eternity, and no violins kicked up a triumphant symphony in celebration, but he wouldn’t have heard it anyway. When they parted, it was a loss as surprising as the rightness he had felt when they were joined.  For a moment, she remained in his arms, just gazing up at his face with a happy little smile on her own.  Then he saw her eyes widen in awareness of the way their bodies were plastered together, and her modesty got the better of her.  She took a step back and looked away, as if it would keep him from seeing her blush. Her darting glance fell on the abandoned goblet of her very own blood.  “Aren’t you going to drink that?” She asked.  “It’ll get cold.”

Spike turned away from her to retrieve his gift.  He raised the goblet to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, to appreciate the aroma.  When he opened his eyes, they were gold and his human face melted into the visage of the demon he truly was.  His sudden shift elicited a startled gasp from Willow.  He explained, trying to be as consoling as it’s possible to be when sporting fangs and ridges, “Hope you don’t mind, Love.  It just tastes better like this.”

He took her tentative smile as his cue to go ahead. The flavor of her exploded on his tongue and for the few precious seconds when her blood filled his mouth and flowed down his throat, he surrendered completely to his nature and reveled in the consumption of the life essence of a powerful human.  By the time he put the glass down and resumed his human face, he knew he would taste that blood again, given willingly, only not in a glass.  He looked at the woman who had gifted him will such an amazing sacrifice and saw her still standing there, watching him, her lips slightly parted and her breath coming in shallow pants.  He could not help the predatory grin that crossed his face.

With no thought for her shyness, he crossed the short distance between them, wrapped her in his arms once more, and lifted her right of the ground, devouring her mouth with the same enthusiasm he had used on her gift.  He felt her slim arms wrap around his waist and for several moments after they broke the kiss, and he let her feet touch the floor again, he stood silently with her, his eyes closed, her head on his shoulder, his cheek pressed against her hair.  He could feel the hard shape of the locket he had given her, hidden beneath her shirt.

He knew what she was feeling, and from the fear that he could smell mixed in with her lust, he knew she hadn’t intended this outcome from her gift.  What she had expected, he couldn’t tell.  She couldn’t begin to understand the magnitude the situation to him.  Giving of herself so freely was the most amazing, meaningful thing she could ever have done for him, and he was in awe just thinking of it.  The bits of fruit and fish eggs that he’d bought for her suddenly seemed grossly inadequate to repay her.

A fresh wave of guilt hit him for leaving her in the bar, just when she was finally trying to give him the chance he’d so desperately wanted.  Now, here she was giving him another chance he didn’t deserve, offering her own blood in penance for a few words of jest, never meant for his ears, never meant to have the sharp edge that had cut him so deeply.  He didn’t dare refuse her again, not ever.

Spike didn’t know if it was the kiss, or the blood, but somewhere in the last few minutes, they had gone from being two people who were trying desperately to win the other’s affection, to being a couple.  He knew it in the way she relaxed under his touch when he rubbed his hands gently across her shoulders.  He knew it in the way her own hands moved slowly over the firm muscles of his back, as though they had permission to be there, exploring him, claiming him as her territory.  He knew it in the way she let her head lay against his shoulder with her lips so close to the skin of his neck that he could feel every exhale of her breath.

Did she have any idea that he actually loved her? That this wasn’t just some vague crush that he was playing with because he had nothing better to do?  He couldn’t tell her, not yet.  She wasn’t ready to hear it after only 2 bad dates and a lousy box of chocolates.  Willow wasn’t the type that fell in love quickly, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off by moving too fast.  She might be sure that she liked him, but that was all, and for now, it would have to be enough.

“How’d you ever think of it, love?  It’s the best gift I ever got.”  Spike found himself silently cursing the English language for having such inadequate words to tell her what he thought of her gift.

Willow shrugged, moving back a few inches so they could see each other’s faces.  “It was Fred’s idea to get you a present, you know, sort of like how you bought stuff for me when you wanted me to give *you* another chance.”  She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “The spell was my idea, and that was the crazy hard part. That had to be the longest incantation ever written!  But the blood just made sense.  I didn’t really know what else to get for a vampire.”

Spike’s jaw clenched and he firmly reminded himself that it was his own fault that she thought of him first as a vampire, and not a man.  He was the one who had brutally reminded her of what he was when she’d tried to treat him like a man, so if she now treated him like a demon, he couldn’t be angry with her.  He’d just have to show her that he could be both.  To that end, he remembered why he’d been looking for her earlier.

“Don’t you want to know what I got for you?” He asked.

He saw her hesitate, as though recalling his track record.  “Sure,” was all she said.

He let her go and tried to ignore how empty his arms felt without her in them as he threw open his closet door and removed the two picnic baskets.  “Hope your hungry.  I got us enough grub for an army of Xanders.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized it was the wrong thing to say.  Willow’s light mood visibly sunk several levels at the mention of her estranged best friend.  Spike noticed how her lips pressed together in an unhappy line, as though they were keeping back a lump in her throat.

Quickly moving past the dangerous subject matter he added, “What do you think?  Up for a picnic dinner?”

If he had breath, he would’ve held it.  He didn’t think she would refuse after what they’d just shared, but then, she had been refusing a third date with him for so long that he couldn’t help being afraid that she would remember why and turn him down again, especially after he was stupid enough to bring up a Sunnydale memory.  When she nodded and said, “I’d really like that,” he had to restrain himself from jumping up and down.

“Ok, then.  Let’s be off,” he said, playing it cool.

He pulled a bottle of wine out of his mini-fridge and opened one of the baskets to slip it inside.  The scent of the food within the basket wafted out to perfume the air.  Willow asked, “Uh, Spike?  Did you cook the food yourself?”

He turned to give her a puzzled tilt of his head. “Yeah, love.  Why do you ask?”

“Oh, uh.  It smells really good.”

He beamed at her and practically skipped to the door to open it for her.  She giggled and walked past him into the hall.  He followed behind her, picking up a basket with each hand, quietly regretting that he did not have a hand free to hold hers.

When they reached the lobby, Angel was just coming out of his office and he stopped to ask where they were headed.  Spike didn’t appreciate it that Angel obviously didn’t trust him not to take Willow somewhere dangerous or inappropriate.  Still, for the sake of not making a scene, he calmly described the park he had in mind.

“So if that meets your approval, we’ll be going,” he said.

Angel nodded and stepped aside, but not before taking an audible sniff of the air in front of Spike and saying, “Ugh, what died in that basket?”

“Not my basket, ‘s your bloody cologne,” Spike muttered, pushing past Angel and stalking out of the hotel before he could be goaded into an argument in front of Willow.  On the front steps, he turned to wait for her and frowned at the laughter he saw in her eyes when she finally emerged from the front door. His sire was going to pay for that, but for the moment, he had other things to attend to.  Like not screwing up this date.  He’d heard the saying that the third time was the charm.  Well, he wasn’t sure as sure about his charms as he had once been.  When it came to Willow, all bets were off.  The only thing he knew with any certainty was that this third date was his last chance.

~Part: 18~

A bloated moon hung over their heads, just shy of being full.  Willow looked around at the spot Spike had chosen for their picnic, a local park just outside of the downtown area, and felt a glimmer of hope.  It had to be the best he’d done so far in terms of venue for one of their dates.  A few people still lingered, but they had plenty of privacy as they spread a blanket under a large old tree and settled down to their dinner.

Spike popped opened the wine first, and pouring them each a glass, offered a toast.  “To the best meal I’ve had in ages.”  Willow smiled and took a sip from her glass before she realized that they hadn’t even touched the food yet and that that could not the meal Spike was referring to.  Her face heated, thinking again of how it had felt to watch him drink her blood.

Spike didn’t seem to notice at all.  He busied himself setting the food out around them and opening the packages of plates and utensils.  Handing her a plate, he looked around at the spread and asked, “What’ll it be first?  I’ll try a bit of whatever you’re having.”

Willow considered each dish carefully.  She couldn’t bring herself to even look at the steamed oysters for very long.  The one time she’d been adventurous enough to try them at a seafood shack on the beach, she’d spent the next 2 hours in the bathroom, crouched on the damp floor and frightening away the other patrons with the sounds she made rediscovering both the oysters and most of her internal organs.  The chocolates looked good, but seemed too much like dessert to start with.  She settled on some crackers and cheese.  Spike hadn’t had to cook them, making them the safest choice.

He had taken the time to slice the cheese into small slivers, so she took a few on her plate with a handful of crackers.  Spike saw what she chose and took some for himself, stuffing whole crackers in his mouth, while Willow took more dainty bites.  They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully and watching the occasional passerby.

“It’s going to seem empty ‘round the hotel without you,” Spike said, bringing Willow out of her daydream about their earlier kiss.

She smiled.  “I’m only moving five blocks away,” she reminded him.  “You can come over whenever you want.”

“Not so!  What about during the day?  I’ll be stuck in the hotel with Angel,” he paused to shudder dramatically, “and no way to get to you.”

“Well, I’ll just have to come see you then,” she said.

“Promise?”  His eyes held hers, and underneath the playful tone, she realized he was serious.

“I promise,” she said.  He leaned in slowly and kissed her, just a quick press of his lips to hers.  She looked around when he pulled away, embarrassed to think that someone might be watching them.

Spike chuckled.  “No worries, love.  I’m not going to debauch you in public.”

She looked back at him, and the smile that automatically came to her face turned into a frown when she caught the implication of the disclaimer “in public”.

He laughed at her again, and not being able to think of a good comeback, she shoved a strawberry in her mouth and concentrated very hard on the task of chewing it so she wouldn’t have to watch him watching her with that playful smirk on his face.  She didn’t understand his power to fluster her so easily.  It was disconcerting and uncomfortable and thrilling all at the same time.

“So, you need some help with the move?”  He offered.

She appreciated his swift change of the subject back to something she was comfortable discussing.  “Nope. I only have one suitcase of the clothes I got that time Cordelia took me shopping, and that’s it.  It’s a furnished apartment.  Besides, I’m supposed to pick up the keys Saturday morning.  You’d get dusty if you came over then.  Give me the day to get settled and you can visit Saturday night.”

“Alright.  It’s a date.  I’ll bring you some housewarming knickknack.  How’s that?”

She caught how he’d secured his fourth date before the third had even been declared a success, but she let it go.  After all, things were great so far, what could go wrong?  “That’d be nice,” she said.

That’s when things went wrong.  Scarcely had the words left her mouth when she was grabbed from behind.  She shrieked, feeling powerful arms wrap around her waist and drag her backwards, away from Spike.  She saw him spring to his feet, intent on coming to her rescue, but as soon as he rose, two vampires appeared next to him, each taking hold of one of his arms and keeping him away from her.  “Spike!” she screamed, twisting and struggling to get free.

“Hold on!” He called to her, his own struggle going only marginally better.

She scratched at the arms holding her and kicked backwards, hoping for a lucky blow to a kneecap, but got nothing other than an amused growl for her efforts.  “Mmm, keep on strugglin’. Maybe wiggle that ass a little lower,” her captor encouraged.  She immediately stilled.  “What?  You don’t wanna play before dinner?”  Willow reached out and grabbed on to a low hanging branch of the tree they had been sitting under, hoping to halt her attacker’s progress and pull herself out of his grasp.  The vampire grunted when she yanked at the branch, but just squeezed her tighter and kept pulling her back until the branch snapped.  Willow smiled.  She might not be free, but now she had a weapon.

On the edge of her vision, she saw Spike twist one arm free and use it to punch his other assailant.  He reached for a branch of his own, and Willow wanted to cheer him on, but quickly remembered she had other problems when the vampire spun her around in his arms. He looked her up and down.  “You’re really not much more than an appetizer.” His yellow eyes gleamed at her and he grinned, displaying a mouthful of fangs. “But you’ll do for starters.”  He yanked her head to one side, keeping a firm grip on both her hair and one arm.  He reared back to aim a bite at her neck, but the motion put a few inches of space between them for a precious moment.  Seeing her chance, Willow raised her makeshift stake and when the vampire lunged forward, he impaled himself and burst into a cloud of dust.

Immediately turning back to see if Spike needed help, she was not surprised to see him landing a last punch to the remaining vampire’s face and running it through with a branch when it stumbled back away from him. Just as she had done for him, he quickly looked around to see where she was.

A moment later, they were in each other’s arms, though Willow could not recall even taking one step forward. Spike’s grip was equally as fierce as the vampire’s who had held her only seconds before, though his strength conveyed his protection, not a desire to destroy.  He clutched her head to his chest, encircling her waist with his other arm and holding her pressed against him as though he could absorb her and keep her safe within him.  In return, she tightened her hold on him, relieved to see that he was ok.

Willow wiggled a little to get Spike to loosen up so she could breathe.  He got the idea and relaxed his arms, slipping his hands down to grasp hers.  “You sure you’re alright, love?”  He asked.

“I’m fine.  He was big and stupid.  What about you, did they hurt you?”  She pulled one hand out of his to raise it to his face and gently trace a scratch by his eye.

Spike reached up and reclaimed the hand.  “It’s nothing.  It’ll be gone by morning.”  He tore his eyes away from her long enough to look over at their picnic spot.  Willow followed his gaze.  Their baskets were overturned and wine made a spreading stain across the blanket.  Strawberries and dates were scattered to the four winds and the crackers had been reduced to mere crumbs.  “Looks like the food’s a total loss,” Spike said.  “What do you say we get out of here, maybe grab a bite at a real establishment?”

Willow shook her head. “Let’s just go home, er, back to the hotel.”  She tried not to think of the hotel as home, since it soon wouldn’t be.  “I’ve kinda lost my appetite.” Spike nodded his agreement, though disappointment showed in the slight downward pull of his lips and the flare of his nostrils.  They disposed of their picnic items and he led her back the way they came, head down, not speaking.  Willow correctly interpreted his silence and stopped walking, pulling him around by their joined hands to look at her.  “Hey,” she said. “Don’t be all upset now.  This wasn’t anyone’s fault. I still want us to see each other.”  She dropped her head.  “That’s if… if you still wanna see me.”

He put his free hand under her chin and tipped her face back up.  When she raised her eyes to meet his, his face was only an inch from hers and before she could blink he was kissing her.  Not a little peck to preserve her virtue, either.  His lips moved harshly against hers, forcing them open, allowing him to explore inside with his tongue to find hers.  She returned the pressure, pouring her desperation into passion and reached up to grab the back of his head to pull him in harder.  She gave no thought to their surroundings.

When she pulled back, she gasped for breath, and as soon as she had it, stretched up for another kiss, but to her surprise, Spike held her away.  “Wait,” he commanded.  She could only gape at this new form of rejection.  “I can’t keep going this way.  I have to know… we have to decide, right here and now, are we going to do this or not?”

“Do what?” She asked, bewildered.

“This!” He said again, and gestured back and forth between them.  “Is there going to be something here? Do we both want it?  Are we both committed to making it work no matter how many vampires, or humans, or Chaos demons try to come between us, or kill us, or just generally make our lives a living hell?”

Willow’s first instinct was to giggle at his drama, but she realized he was completely serious.  “I didn’t think we needed to ask those questions anymore.”

“Well, we shouldn’t, but we do, because you just did. You wondered if I still wanted to see you.  I don’t want you wondering that sort of thing, and I don’t want to have to wonder it either.  You understand?”

She nodded.  “Of course, Spike.  I… I don’t like wondering anymore than you do.”

“Didn’t think so.  Is that a ‘yes’, then?  Will you stick by me and stand up for me, stand up for *us* no matter what happens, no matter how our next date is ruined?”

She still wanted to smile, and still resisted.  He wasn’t done being serious.  “Yes.  It’s a yes.  I want to be with you.  I want to know that you want to be with me.  I don’t care if we never have a normal date. We’re not normal people and I guess it would be weird if we had a normal date.  It’s not like vampires attacking me every week is a new thing, it’s actually getting a little old, but we’ll deal, we always have.”

He inclined his head, accepting her answer.  “I want to be with you, too.  I think you knew that, but I want you to know it for sure.”  At last he smiled. “You can bet I’d have never put up with Team Angel for this long if it were otherwise.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”  She suggested.  He raised his eyebrows at her boldness but offered no objection. This time, he did not have to force her mouth open, it was she who pursued his lips and pushed her tongue inside, tasting the last little bit of their ill-fated wine.  It was nice to have someone to kiss again.  She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed an accessible pair of lips.  Now that she had them again, she made a mental note to take full advantage as often as possible.

All too soon, they realized they’d better go back to the hotel if they were going to engage in any more activities that involved their senses being so preoccupied.  It was a blissful trip, enhanced by that unquenchable energy that blossoming new love infuses into the most mundane activities, even not particularly scenic drives in the dark.

They breezed into the lobby, hand in hand, and stopped short at the sight they saw at the reception desk. Cordelia sat there, as usual, though it was very late for her to be working, and she was not alone.  In fact, she was not working, at least, not on a case. She was doing nails, but not her own. Fred’s.  Fred sat next to her, right out in the open, having her nails done and chatting and laughing as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Fred!” Was all Willow could exclaim when she found her voice.

“Oh!  Hey, Willow!”  Fred waved a hand hello, and received a prompt reprimand from Cordelia that her nails were not yet dry enough for that.

Spike gave Willow a curious look, and she led him over for introductions.  “Spike, this is Fred.  Fred, this is Spike,” she paused, took a deep breath and rushed on, “my boyfriend.”

Both women at the desk looked up at that, as did Spike.  Willow blushed to find three faces grinning at her in such a suggestive way.  Then remembering manners, Spike turned back to Fred, bobbed his head at her and inquired, “How ‘d ya do?”

Fred went to reach out a hand to shake and then quickly pulled it back and said, flustered, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’d shake, I really would, but I can’t because this polish is still tacky, and wouldn’t want to get it on your hands, or mess it up.  Sorry.”  She hung her head to stare back at her hands.

Cordelia burst out laughing and looked at Spike.  “I think what she means to say is, ‘Nice to meet you.’ She doesn’t have much experience talking to boys.”

Fred shot Cordelia a look of pure horror, then stole a look at Spike only to see matching laughter in his eyes.  Willow immediately sensed the danger of the situation.  “Stop it you guys!  Be nice!  You want her to go back to her room?”

Fred said, indignantly, “No, I don’t have to go.  I’m fine, I can take it, really.  I know what a joke is, I remember.”

It was Willow’s turn to be embarrassed.  “Sorry, I was just so happy to see you out, I didn’t want anything to wreck it.”

Fred smiled at her.  “I know, Willow.  I appreciate all you’ve done for me.  I never would have gotten out of there without you.”

Spike cleared his throat.  Cordy grinned at them.  “I think someone’s ready to finish up his date.  You two are back awfully early.  I assume you have other plans?”  She batted her eyes suggestively.

“Our ‘plans’ are not your concern, Vision Girl.”  That got him an evil glare from the seer.  “Come on, love,” he said to Willow.  “Let’s go… talk some more.”

He led her upstairs with the two at the reception desk looking after them wearing knowing smirks.  They stopped at Willow’s door.  She opened it and flipped on the light, wandering inside, expecting him to follow.  When she turned around and found him still standing in the entrance she said, “Spike, what are you doing?  You don’t need an invitation, you’ve already been in here.  And besides, hotel room?  So not a home.  Or at least, not supposed to be.”

“I know I can come in,” he said.  “But I’m not going to.  I’m saying good night and see you tomorrow.”

Willow moved back to the door and stood looking at him, puzzled.  “I… I thought we just said…”

He held up a hand to silence her.  “We did just say all that, and I meant it, and I don’t want you having those doubts I see in your face.  I’m not coming in because I *do* mean what I said, not the other way around.  I want this thing to work, and for that to happen, we need to take our time.  If I come in now, I won’t want to leave when I should, and, not to brag, but you probably won’t want me to.”

Willow swallowed hard, thinking of reasons why she wouldn’t want Spike to leave her room.  Looking at him, standing there, leaning in her doorway, she could think of lots of reasons why she wouldn’t want him to leave and he wasn’t even trying.  “So, you’re leaving for my sake,” she concluded.

“For *our* sake,” he corrected.  “It means as much to me as it does to you that we do this right.”  He leaned in and kissed her, but kept their bodies apart and pulled away quickly.  “’Night, love,” he said and turned to go down the hall to his room.

Willow closed the door quietly after him and went to sit on her bed, her mind spinning.  She looked back at the closed door, still seeing the vampire who had stood there.  Without knowing she spoke out loud, she whispered, “He loves me.”

~Part: 19~

Friday morning, Willow woke up feeling lighter than she had in months.  She couldn’t remember feeling so good since before she ever heard of Glory, back when Tara still looked at her like she owned the moon.  Now Spike made her feel that way; it was a concept that took some getting used to.  Rolling over to look at the clock, she wondered if he was awake yet.  Though she had slept late by human standards, Spike had probably stayed up long after she crashed and he often insisted that it was pointless to get out of bed with the sun still up.  Willow suspected this had more to do with an excuse to avoid being stuck in the hotel in Angel’s presence than any real desire to sleep the day away.

She stretched and got dressed, hoping to convince Cordelia to take her shopping later that afternoon - not that she thought it would take much convincing, but getting Angel to let Cordy off work early might. She wanted to pick up a few things for the new apartment.  Furnished though it was, a new place still needed new things.  Like towels.  And dish soap. Toilet cleaner, toilet paper, trash bags, mops and brooms, some picture frames, a table cloth, not to mention food… suddenly Willow thought she might need to get Angel to give Cordy the whole day off.

Head spinning with all that needed to be done before she got her keys the following morning, Willow headed downstairs hoping for fresh coffee and a vampire boss in a good mood.  What she found instead made her head spin so fast it was in danger of flying out of orbit and colliding with the nearest asteroid.  In the lobby, apparently waiting for her, sat Xander, Anya, and Dawn.  They stood slowly when they saw her. Willow barely registered Cordelia as she discreetly rose from her desk and slipped into Wesley’s office, shutting the door.

Words had already failed her long enough to make the silence awkward.  “Um, hi guys,” she began, trying to keep her voice as light as possible, without a trace of the unspoken, ‘what are you doing here now, after all this time?’

Xander took a step forward, playing the spokesman of the group.  “Willow,” his voice cracked on the first word.  He cleared his throat and tried again.  “We want you to come home now.  Please,” he added, holding his hands out to her in a gesture of helplessness, entreaty, and just a hint of desperation.

The hurt on his face evoked a reaction deep within her that, at any time before she came to LA, would have sent her racing into his arms and whispering soothing words to her lifelong friend.  Things had changed. They had changed, and now she stood her ground, studying him, her mind asking a million questions her lips never had time to voice before they were replaced by the next million.  One question in particular kept on circling and finally came in for a landing.  “Why?” The simplest, the oldest question in existence.

Xander frowned, shook his head, and then repeated her question.

“Yeah, why?  Why now?  Why not yesterday, or tomorrow, or never?  And just… why?  Why should I?”

“It’s your home, Willow.  You belong there, with us. You’ve always been there, we’ve always been there. Why wouldn’t you come back?”

Willow’s thoughts flashed on a blonde vampire, a brunette vampire, two brunette human girls, the shiny new keys she would have tomorrow, all answers to Xander’s why, but none that he would understand.  That she had friends, a life, a home, a lover, outside of Sunnydale, and that they meant something to her, wasn’t something that she could hope to make him see. Especially the Spike part.  That would just have to wait.

“I like it here,” she said simply, even knowing there was no way she would escape giving a lengthy explanation.

Dawn stepped forward for her turn at the Convince Willow game.  “But, if you don’t come back, I can’t go home because there’s no one else there and I can’t be on my own yet.  They’ll… they’ll take me away or make me go back to live with my Dad.  And I don’t want to live there, I want to live in my house.  I kinda hoped you’d live there with me now.”

Willow pressed her lips together, willing herself not to cry, not let her heart break at the thought of the girl who was like her own sister forced to move out of her family home.  “Dawnie…” she began.

“Dad dropped me off when our summer visit was over and I promised to call and have you come over and stay so I could still go to the same school, but there was no one there.  I called Xander and when he said you were still here, I didn’t understand, and then he said…”

“Dawn.”  Xander’s voice held a note of warning.

Anya finally spoke up.  “What?  It’s not like she doesn’t know why she’s here.  She ran away.  Things got hard and she left.  It’s what humans do.”

Willow raised her eyebrows at Xander, and then turned her focus back to all three of them.  “Uh huh.  I see how it works.  So you were all content to let me run away until you needed something and then you come and beg to get me back.”

“We’re not begging,” Xander said.  “We’re just asking you to come home.  You already know that’s where you belong.  I didn’t try this before because I thought you wanted to be alone and I was trying to respect that.  But we need you, and, I think you need us.  So please, just think about it.”

“I’m not alone here.  I came here to… well, I came to do a job and I stayed because I *wasn’t* alone.” Willow glanced at the door to Angel’s office.  The door was closed and the shades over the partial glass walls were drawn.  He might or might not be in there, but to play it safe, she didn’t want to bring up anything too painful.

Xander followed her glance and when she looked back at him he asked, “You stayed for Angel?”

Willow nodded, ignoring the incredulous look on his face.  “At first.  But then I stayed for me.  Because I was comfortable here and I felt like I could do something good.  Someone needed me here… not in Sunnydale.”

When Xander started to protest, Willow cut him off. “You had Anya, I knew you would hardly notice I was gone.”  She turned a gentler expression on Dawn.  “You were with your Dad, which is where you should have been.”

“But now I’m not.  I’m home, and I want you there too,” Dawn said.

Willow sighed.  “Look, you guys, it’s great to see you all again, it really is.”  With that, she suddenly moved forward and gave each of them a tight hug in turn, finally admitting to herself how badly she had wanted to do that.  Then she stepped back again.  “I just can’t decide this right here, like this.  I have some stuff going on and it’s important to me.  Not that you guys aren’t, it’s just, I made a life for myself here, I can’t just pick up and leave that.”

“The way you picked up and left your life in Sunnydale?” Anya asked, with absolutely no sarcasm.

Willow sighed.  “Yeah, well.  My life in Sunnydale seemed pretty much over.  My life here is just starting.  Or it was.”

Xander reached forward and put a hand on her shoulder. What do *you* want to do?”

“I don’t know, Xan, I… I have to think about it some more.”  As though she suddenly noticed that they were all just standing around the lobby of the hotel, she added, “Hey, why don’t we get you guys set up in some rooms?  You can stay the night here.”

“You plan on taking the entire day to decide?” Anya asked.

“Well, yeah.  And, I thought, you know, even if I don’t go back maybe you can all stay and visit for a few days.”

Anya rolled her eyes.  “I told you she wouldn’t come back,” she complained to Xander.

“Hey!  Standing right here!  And I didn’t say that.”

Cordelia emerged from Wesley’s office at that moment and greeted them all with one of those argument-ending smiles.  “So, I’ll get two rooms cleaned up for you?” She asked, totally unperturbed that her question made it obvious she had been listening to every word spoken between the Sunnydale friends.

Xander held up a hand.  “Wait a minute.  *You* clean the rooms?”

“Eww, no,” she said, wrinkling her nose and picking up the phone.  “We have a service.”

When Cordelia hung up, Willow turned to face her, her back to the Sunnydale gang.  “Thanks for getting the rooms,” she began, her hands fidgeting with a pen on the desk.  “I have some, uh, stuff to do,” her eyes jerked towards the stairs, indicating the second floor of the hotel where she and Spike had their rooms.

Cordelia placed her hand over Willow’s, stilling their nervous motions.  “I’ll be happy to show the old gang around for a little while and take them out to lunch. Your treat, of course.”

Willow matched her smile.  “Of course.”

She turned back to her friends.  “If I’m gonna get this figured out, I need a little time.  I’ll see you guys after lunch, ok?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and headed up the stairs.  As she went, she could hear Dawn ask Xander, “Doesn’t she care about us anymore?”  And her heart broke a little more.

Her first thoughts involved talking things out with Spike.  If they were going to make a relationship work, being in the same town would certainly help. Making the decision of whether or not she would return to Sunnydale had to take into account whether or not Spike wanted to go back.  Yet, as she made her way down the hall, she turned into her room and picked up the phone.  What she had said to Xander was true.  At first, she had stayed for Angel.  She felt she owed him the opportunity to weigh in on her decision too.

Calling down to his office, he answered on the first ring.  So he had been in there.  She was grateful to him for not coming out earlier.  She didn’t want to discuss this with him in front of the Sunnydale gang. He knew immediately why she was calling and promised to come right up.  Scarcely had she replaced the phone on its charger when she heard his knock at the door. She jumped, then shook her head, wondering when she would get used to vampire speed.

Angel entered at her invitation, closed the door, and took a seat in the room’s only chair.  He wore one of his inscrutable looks.  If he had an opinion about what he’d overheard of the conversation in the lobby, Willow couldn’t tell.  “So?” She prompted.

“What do you want to do?”  He asked.

Willow flopped back on her bed, arms out to her sides in a helpless gesture.  “I don’t know!  Now that they’re here I realize how much I missed them, but now I like being in LA, and with all you guys and if I left, I’d miss you instead.  Plus, you know, Sunnydale? Land of a thousand painful memories?  Still not sure I want to deal.”

She rolled over on her side and propped herself up on an elbow to see him nodding.  “I won’t pretend you wouldn’t be missed.  I… I can’t thank you enough for being here this long.  I’m moving on now, and I don’t know if I could’ve done that as well on my own.”  He paused and they exchanged a meaningful glance that threatened to bring tears to both sets of eyes.  Then he hurried on, “And that’s just me.  Fred would still be in her room if you hadn’t been here to keep her company and tell her stories about the outside world until she felt safe enough to come out.  I still don’t know why she trusted you more than anyone else, how she knew that you were the one to trust, but she was right, and I think she’ll be ok now.”

Willow smiled remembering how badly she’d almost screwed up Fred’s recovery by having Angel in her room.  After a moment, he seemed to read the meaning behind her smile and ducked his head, revealing an embarrassment that could not manifest in a blush.

When she said nothing, Angel added, “Wesley tells me all the time how valuable he finds your input on our cases, especially when they involve other magic users, but even when they don’t.”  He counted off the rest of his employees on his fingers.  “You’d never know that you and Cordy were ever anything but friends.  I think it helps her to have another girl around with a supernatural gift.  It makes her feel more normal. And, well, you know Lorne just adores you.”  He chuckled softly.  “I think if Spike hadn’t made a move when he did, you’d find yourself with a whole other kind of demon trying to ask you out.”

“So, was that you’re way of trying to talk me into staying?  Buttering me up with nice stories about how everyone likes me?”  Her tone was light and teasing because she knew that in spite of how it sounded, he was not trying to coerce her.

Angel shook his head.  “That’s just it.  You’ve been great for us, and we’ll miss you, but to use a horrible cliché, your work here is done.  You got us through a hard time, but now you have to go back to thinking about what’s best for you.  And that might be in Sunnydale.  Your parents are there,” he held up a hand when she frowned, about to object.  “I know they’re not there often, but they are your family, and that counts for something.  Hey, that’s the only reason Spike’s not dust,” he tried to joke, but Willow just glared at him.  “Right, anyway, you probably want to finish school too, it might not be too late to sign up for the next semester.  Not to mention, those kids in the lobby, they are your friends, and always will be, no matter how long you’ve been away.”

“You’re starting to sound like Spike,” she told him. When his eyes widened in comical horror, she laughed in spite of herself and explained, “That’s all stuff he said when he was trying to get me to go back.  And, by the way, you’re no help at all.  First you tell me how much everyone needs me here, then you tell me all the reasons I should leave.  So which is it?  What should I do?”

He gave her a sad little smile.  “You should decide for yourself.”

He got up out of the chair and started for the door. “Hey, where are you going?”

He turned back with his hand on the knob.  “Well, you said I was no help.”

The shoe she threw at him hit the door just as it closed behind him.  “Vampires,” she grumbled.  “They think they know everything, but god forbid they tell you anything useful.”

Swinging her legs around so she was sitting on the edge of the bed, she picked up the phone again and called her new landlord.  By the time she hung up, her confusion had grown even more.  The lease she signed committed her to the apartment for a year.  That should have settled the matter of returning to Sunnydale, since she couldn’t afford to pay for an apartment she wasn’t even using.  But the landlord told her that due to the high demand for apartments in her neighborhood, he would let her out of the lease with a penalty of only 1 month’s rent, which was what she had already paid.  That meant she could just as easily stay or go.

She got up off the bed and left her room.  It was time to wake up Spike.  She knocked on the door to his room, then pounded, to no avail.  Finally, she just opened the door and walked in.  Spike didn’t bother much with locks.  Anything that couldn’t break down a door wouldn’t be stupid enough to mess with him. Anything that could break down a door wouldn’t be stopped by a lock, so he found them rather pointless. He also didn’t place much value on privacy, evidently, as Willow found him sprawled naked on his bed, the sheet just barely keeping a PG-13 rating on the scene.

She paused in the doorway, her mouth hanging slightly open, and wondered if she should leave.  She didn’t particularly *want* to leave, but neither was she sure that Spike would want her to see him like this, so vulnerable in his sleep, and so, well, naked.  The naked part probably wouldn’t have bothered him if he’d been awake and deliberately showing off, but it seemed wrong to watch him like this when he couldn’t even appreciate her reaction.

The bed was situated at the other end of the room, facing the door.  One of Spike’s legs hung off the edge, revealing a line of pale flesh from his bare foot, all the way up to the arm that was thrown over his head.  Moving her eyes across his body, she admired the muscles of his forearm that held the sheet pinned strategically just above his stomach.  His other leg was completely hidden, along with an intriguing bulge at the very edge of the sheet’s territory, which threatened to be revealed, should he shift the slightest amount.  His head was turned to one side, and if his eyes were open, he would appear to be examining the bicep of the arm over his head.

Willow, completely caught up in her perusal, suddenly realized that she still hadn’t moved, either to leave or announce her presence.  So she was surprised when she finally dragged her eyes back up to Spike’s face to find him looking at her, wearing a knowing smirk. “Spike!” She squeaked.  “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, love,” he said, pulling himself fully back onto the bed and sitting up to look at her, all the while keeping the sheet disappointingly in place.  “It’s a survival thing.  If you sleep through someone sneaking up on you, you usually don’t live through it.  Lucky I smelled you or I mighta killed first and opened my eyes later.”

Willow looked properly chastised.  Spike made a soothing sound and held a hand out to her.  “C’mere. You must’ve had a good reason for burstin’ in like that.  What’s up, then?”

She perched on the edge of his bed, not too close, and, while trying not to rudely stare at his perfectly formed chest, told him everything that had happened since she’d woken up to find her old friends in the lobby.  He didn’t look particularly surprised, or particularly unhappy.

“So that’s it then, you’re going back,” he said.

Willow immediately protested.  “That’s not what I said!”

“That’s what you meant.”  He reached out across the bed and took her hand.  “You wouldn’t be going through all this trouble if, somewhere, deep down, you didn’t already know you wanted to go back.  Why else did you call that landlord?  If you wanted to stay, you would’ve just fetched your keys tomorrow like you planned and sent your friends on their merry way with a ‘Hey, thanks for droppin by.’ Isn’t that right?”

Willow’s face scrunched up, trying to decide if this made sense.  “I don’t know, maybe I should go back. Angel doesn’t need me anymore, and they do.  And,” she gestured to where she sat speaking to her naked vampire boyfriend, “I guess I’ve moved on too. There’s nothing to run away from now.”

“See, pet?  You make things too hard on yourself. That should’ve been an easy one.”

“I know, it’s just, I’ve spent so much time trying to convince myself I don’t belong there anymore.  But, like you said, I know that’s not true.”  Suddenly, she clasped the hand she held desperately in both of hers. “What about you?  Do you think you can stand the thought of moving back to Sunnydale?  I know it’s not your favorite place, but I won’t go back without you, I don’t care what anyone says.”

Spike just laughed and patted her hand.  “Willow, love.  Why do you think I came here in the first place?  Sure wasn’t to hang around Angel and his brat pack.  I’d be glad to get out from under his ever-so watchful glare.  I’m sure my crypt is still standing. Wouldn’t mind being back somewhere more familiar.”

“So, you’d give up this kinda nice room and go back to living in a crypt… for me?”

Spike just looked at her for a moment and she saw indecision crease his forehead before he decided how to answer her.  “I’d give up a lot more than a room for you.  I’d give up… well, anything I had, to be honest.  And, as long as I’m being honest, I love you, Willow.  I love you, and it’s not because some demon in a bar said we should be together.  It’s just how I feel, and it’s the only reason I ever came to this town.  I wasn’t going to say it yet, we just finally got to a comfortable spot together and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable again and…”  Willow placed her fingertips over his lips to quiet his un-demonlike babble.  When he obediently stopped talking, she replaced her fingers with her mouth and kissed him soundly.  Her hand rested on his shoulder for balance and she couldn’t resist running her fingers down his arm, exploring the muscles she had admired from the doorway.

When she pulled back he looked at her like she’d just given him a basket of kittens.  “You’re not making me uncomfortable.  I mean, you’re sitting there naked, and usually, if I’m gonna be uncomfortable about something, that’s pretty high on the list, but I’m not.  And the reason I’m not is what you just said. You love me and that’s what makes me comfortable with you.  And that makes me kinda want to love you back. I couldn’t fight that even if I wanted to, and I’m not going to.  I’m glad you’re coming back with me.  I know I can do it now, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.  I don’t think I can do it without you.”

“You love me?”  He asked.

She smiled.  “Stopped listening after that part, huh?”  

This time he leaned in for a kiss, pulling her across the bed, into his arms.  She went willingly enough, returning the embrace and closing her eyes to let the sensations he gave her drown out the world.  If, during all the kissing and caressing, the sheet lost some of its territory, neither of them complained.

~Part: 20~

“You sure you want to do this?”

Willow nodded solemnly.  “It’s the one thing that could still make me stay.  If they can’t accept that we’re together, I can’t be around them.  It’s strange, but the guys here support us and that’s important to me.”  He inclined his head, agreeing with her.

Willow and Spike sat together on a couch in the lobby, waiting for the return of Cordelia and the Sunnydale contingent.  Angel, once again, hid in his office with the door closed, ready to intervene if anyone should make any threats that Spike couldn’t defend against.

When the foursome came through the front door, giggling about some transvestites they’d seen, Willow caught Cordelia’s eye and gave her a meaningful look.  Cordy glanced back and forth between Willow and Spike, saw how close together they were seated, and suddenly began to yawn loudly and stretch.  “Gee, that was a heavy lunch, wasn’t it?  I think I need a nap.  I’ll be upstairs.  Bye!”  She bounded up the stairs, leaving the other three to stare in shock at her retreating back.

Wandering further into the lobby, Xander wondered aloud, “What was that all about?”  Then he too saw Willow and Spike on the couch.  He started to smile, until Willow reached over and took Spike’s hand.  “And, what’s *that* all about?”  He added, pointing at them, his eyes wide and his mouth turned down dangerously.

Anya and Dawn walked up behind him.  “Aww, how sweet!” Dawn squealed.

Xander turned his gaze on her and his mouth dropped open to start yelling when Anya interrupted.  “Well, why did you think Spike left for LA and didn’t come back?  You didn’t think it was for Angel did you?  Not that that’s an impossible scenario, but they don’t seem to like each other very much anymore.”  She giggled to herself.  “Now, if you’d seen the two of them back in 1899…”

Xander sliced his hand through the air in a silencing gesture.  “Anya, focus.”  When she shut up, he turned back to the couple on the couch.  “What the hell is this?”

Willow stood, drawing Spike up by their entwined hands to stand by her side.  “This,” she said, “is my boyfriend.”

Xander ran a hand through his hair, and then put the hand on his hip as his mouth opened and closed soundlessly.  Finally, he settled on one of his many objections.  “What about Tara?”

Willow shrugged.  “What about her?  She’s gone and she’s not coming back.  I can’t sit around with a broken heart forever.  I thought you’d be happy I was moving on.”

“Happy?  Will, you’re getting your ‘happy’ from the evil undead?  Vampire?  Murder?  Mayhem?  Ring a bell?”

Willow looked at Spike, really looked at him as though trying to see something invisible, then turned back to Xander and said without a trace of sarcasm, “Yep, he’s a vampire.”

“And?”

“And what?”  She gestured at Anya.  “She’s an ex-demon who killed and tormented how many men?  Who are you to throw stones?”

“But she’s human now.”

“Yeah, well, he might as well be.  Neither of them is killing anyone now and they’re both helping us save lives.  Where’s the big diff?”

Xander looked to Anya for backup.  She shrugged.  He looked at Dawn.  She grinned.  He looked back at Willow and Spike and frowned.  “If he ever tries to hurt you…”

“You’ll hunt him down and tie him out to kiss the sunrise,” Willow finished for him with a roll of her eyes.  “I think we know that part.”  She turned to Spike.  “Planning on hurting me?”

He cocked his head and ran his eyes down her body and back up.  “Not unless you want me to,” he said in a low voice that made Willow shudder.

Snapping out of it she hissed, “Spike!  Not now.”

“Right.”  He turned to Xander.  “Not gonna hurt her, keep your shirt on.  If you three are done telling Red how to run her life, I think she’s got something else to tell you.”

With the situation at least temporarily diffused, Willow and Spike took their seats on the couch again and the other three finally relaxed enough to sit across from them.  “So, what’s the big news?”  Dawn asked.  “Other than, you know, the big news you already told us.”

Willow smiled at her.  “I’m going to come home with you.”

Dawn shrieked and launched herself at Willow, landing in her lap, grabbing her around the waist and pressing her face into Willow’s hair.

Willow laughed and patted her back.  “I’m glad you’re happy.  You know I couldn’t say no to you.”

Dawn slid off her lap to sit next to her on the opposite side from Spike.  “That’s right.  I have super powers of persuasion which I will only use for the good of mankind.  Or to get what I want.”  She giggled and looked across at Xander, but he was looking at Willow.

“You weren’t going to come back if I tried to hurt Spike, were you?”  He asked.

Willow turned away from Dawn to look at him.  “No,” she said, matching his serious tone.  “How could I?”

He just gave a huge shuddering sigh and nodded his understanding.  The five of them sat quietly for a few moments, grasping the way their lives had suddenly changed.  Then Spike gave Willow’s hand a squeeze and stood.  “Well, if the fun’s over, I’m heading back to bed.  Somebody here dragged me out at the crack of noon and no respectable vampire shows his face at this hour.”

At that moment, Angel emerged from his office, wearing a concerned look, and glanced around at the assembled group.  “Is everything ok out here?  It got quiet.”

Spike looked back down at Willow and smiled.  “See what I mean?  I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”  He kissed her hand, to a chorus of groans, then turned and disappeared to the second floor.  Willow watched him go, knowing perfectly well that he wasn’t going back to sleep and was quietly grateful for the time alone with her friends.

Willow turned to Angel who had come forward to stand next to her couch.  “Did you hear all that?”  She asked.

He nodded.  “You’re going back,” he said.  He had resumed his usual unreadable expression, but his voice betrayed a bit of wistfulness.

Willow patted the recently vacated couch cushion next to her and he accepted the invitation, sitting beside her with his arm along the back of the couch.  “You gonna be ok?”  She asked.

Xander rolled his eyes, but all three women shot him identical warning looks, so he managed not to comment.

Angel chuckled softly.  “Well, as long as you take Spike with you, I’ll be fine.”

Willow slapped his shoulder playfully.  “Hey, you guys were doing great!”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Neither one of you are dust,” she pointed out.

He stood up again, smiling and shaking his head.  “True.  Still, it’s better this way.  If you want, I’ll get everyone together later tonight and you can tell them all at once.”

“Yeah, I guess I better break the news.  This is kinda harder than I thought it would be.”

“When are you leaving?” He asked.

“Tomorrow night?”  She looked at her friends and they accepted the time frame.

“I’ll go make some calls,” Angel said, and walked back to his office.

Alone again at last, the Sunnydale friends turned back to each other and Willow felt a gentle contentment in seeing their faces that told her she was doing the right thing.  Slowly, haltingly, they began to speak of their lives over the past several weeks.  The process held its own kind of pain for each of them as they recounted events both big and small that they’d gone through without Buffy, and also without each other.  Anya and Dawn wanted to know how she and Spike had gotten together and why it happened in LA.  Xander remained quiet throughout the recounting of the mini soap opera that had lead to the relationship, though he couldn’t totally hide his surprise when Willow told them about Lorne’s reading of her at Caritas.  Willow conveniently left out the reason that she’d been on stage singing in the first place.  She saw no need to give Xander an excuse to redirect his anger at Spike to Angel.

Later that night, as promised, when Willow and her friends returned from a dinner out, Angel told her that the LA gang was ready for her announcement.  She looked around, but didn’t see any of them except for Angel.  He smiled and told her they would be meeting her somewhere else.

Still playing the mysterious vampire with a secret, Angel loaded them all into his car and drove off, refusing to say where they were going.  When he pulled over to park, Willow looked around, sure that the neighborhood was familiar.  Angel led them halfway down the block and then stopped and announced, “We’re here.”

Xander looked around, and then back at Angel.  “I think all that hair gel has gone to your brain.  There’s nothing here.”

Instead of answering, Angel turned to Willow.  “Want to show him?”

Willow, who now realized why the area looked familiar, put her hand on Xander’s arm and let just the tiniest bit of her power trickle through to him.  “Look,” she said, pointing with her other hand to the stairway leading down to a door with a brightly lit sign announcing “Caritas – Every Night is Karaoke Night!”.

“Weird,” he muttered, but didn’t object when they all started down the stairs.

“This is neat,” Dawn said to Anya, who was also looking at the sign with no help from anyone.

Willow looked back at them.  “You guys can see it?”

“Well, neither one of us has been human very long,” Anya reminded her.

Willow felt a little uneasy about coming back here.  Her first two visits had not ended well. Ended pretty much catastrophically, actually.  She hoped the rule of third times being the charm would hold up for her.

Angel held the door for Willow so that she could enter first.  A burst of applause exploded through the bar as she stepped over the threshold.  The sound astonished her in two ways.  First, that it was for her, and second that it was so loud considering there were only 6 people in the club.  After a moment, Lorne leaned over and pressed a button on a sophisticated sound board and the applause track died down along with the real applause.  Laughing, Willow took a little bow and stepped aside to let the rest of her friends enter.  She turned to Angel with mock accusation, “You told them already!”

He shrugged.  “Well, these guys show up,” he gestured at Xander, Anya, and Dawn, “and suddenly you have news.  No one really needed me to draw a picture to figure it out.”

A bunch of the round tables had been pushed together so that there was one big circle made up of little circles that could accommodate the whole group.  In the middle of the makeshift table was a large white cake with red icing that spelled out “Farewell Willow, Good Luck.”  Willow looked up and glanced around the table, smiling at everyone in turn.  “Thanks, you guys.  You didn’t have to do this.”  When she looked back at the cake, she was startled to see that the icing had rearranged to say “Keep in Touch!”

She caught Lorne’s eye, and he shrugged.  “We have a baker for special occasions.  All of his recipes are top secret.”

Willow checked the cake.  Now it said, “We’ll miss you!”

Everyone took a seat around the table.  When Willow tried to take a chair for herself, Spike came over and stopped her.  “Don’t you think you should do what you came here to do?”  He suggested gently, gesturing towards the stage where a microphone was conveniently set up.

She looked up at it and back at him and instead of answering, said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

He gave her the lightest peck on the cheek and whispered, “Where else would I be?”

With a lump in her throat, Willow climbed the stairs to the stage and stood in front of the microphone, trying to repress any terrifying flashbacks that might threaten to destroy the little composure she had.

When she looked out over the room, ten faces smiled back at her, and she couldn’t help returning it with a smile of her own.  In spite of their differences, everyone here was her friend, and they were her only friends in the world.  Her two vampires sat side by side, watching her closely.  Yes, she even thought of Angel as hers in some platonic way that meant no more or less than that she would die to protect him, though they would never again share a bed, even in the sweet innocence of mutual grief.  On the other side of Angel sat Wesley, his right-hand man, wearing a suit for the occasion, regarding her with his usual respect.  Beside him was Charles Gunn, a man Willow had barely begun to know.  His preference for being out in the field made him restless in the office so he spent most of his time patrolling the streets when she was researching.  He had earned her admiration for his determination and fearlessness, though she knew nothing of the man beneath his tough exterior.  Learning of her childhood on the hell mouth and her hand in the aversion of multiple apocalypses, he gave her the consideration of a fellow soldier and trusted her opinions.

Lorne sat next to Gunn, his red eyes sparkling at her, and for a moment Willow recalled Angel’s suspicion of his feelings for her.  Uncomfortable with the very idea, her gaze moved on to Fred who sat there, taking deep breaths and trying not to look at too many things at once.  Her presence was particularly meaningful, showing that she had taken another huge step in overcoming her agoraphobia by leaving the hotel to be there.  Cordelia sat next to her, giving her reassuring pats on the back every now and then, but mostly grinning at Willow as if she knew exactly how uncomfortable she was being the center of attention.  Dawn, Anya, and Xander completed the circle, except for her own empty chair between Xander and Spike.  The three of them gave her encouraging looks and thumbs up as she took a deep breath and prepared to speak.

“Hi everyone,” she began, wincing and jerking away when the microphone shrieked feedback at her.  She cleared her throat and tried again, making sure not to get too close.  “Sorry about that.”  The microphone cooperated and she continued.  “It’s nice of you guys to all show up like this.  And the cake and everything, I don’t deserve such good friends.”  She paused, taking a breath.  “When I came here, I thought it was just for a night.  Just to drop in, be the messenger, and go home.  Well, here I am and this feels like home now too.  That’s because of all of you, and how great you’ve been.  But you know why I’m up here and it’s to tell you that I have to go back like I planned to that first night.  So, I guess I have two homes now, but I have to pick one of them to be where I live most of the time.  I hope you’ll forgive me that it’s not here.  I’ll always be just a phone call away, and you should all come and visit me whenever you don’t have to save the world.”

There were a few chuckles at that.  “Ok, well I guess I wouldn’t see you that much, so I’ll have to come to visit too.  And I will.  I love you guys, all of you.”

She stepped away from the microphone and the little group clapped for her, interspersed with some whistles of preternatural volume.  When she took her seat, they served the cake, which, just before they cut it, rearranged its icing to say, “Wait!  I’m too young to die!”  Unfortunately for it, everyone was hungry and not a crumb remained.

While they ate, the Sunnydale group and the LA group talked shop for awhile, discussing the latest threats to humanity, along with a few personal tidbits among those who had known each other in years past.  When he finished his cake, Lorne got up and performed a few numbers for their entertainment, then opened the floor to anyone who might care to showcase their skills.  By unspoken understanding, he did not entreat Willow or Angel to hum even a single note.

By the end of the evening, everyone was pleasantly tired and made their way home with promises to stop by the next day to see Willow off, even though it was Saturday.  Spike had to return to the hotel in Angel’s car since he’d ridden to the club with Wesley, making for interesting seating arrangements with six people.  Willow ended up sitting on Spike’s lap in the front seat, which would’ve been fine if the things he was doing with Willow’s shirt weren’t such a distraction to Angel while he was trying to drive.  Finally, Willow whispered a promise in his ear that even Angel’s sensitive hearing couldn’t make out and Spike behaved for the rest of the way.

The following evening, Xander shut the trunk of his car, locking Willow’s suitcase inside.  Even though he’d been in LA nearly as long as Willow, Spike had no luggage.  The Angel Investigation’s team crowded around the car, coming forward one at a time to give Willow a hug goodbye and a promise to keep in touch.  Angel was last and he held on to her for a moment longer than necessary, until Spike poked him in the arm and muttered a vague threat.  Angel turned to his blonde pain in the ass and smiled, then, to everyone’s surprise, he wrapped him in a bear hug, which lasted exactly long enough for Spike to register what was happening and push him off.  When Angel turned to face his friends and saw them staring at him in astonishment, he shrugged and said, “What?  He’s leaving.”

The ride back to Sunnydale was pleasantly uneventful since Xander had the self-restraint to keep the car on the road and not run down the Welcome sign when they entered the town.  Pulling into the driveway at the Summers’ home, all 5 occupants of the car were quiet as they got out and stretched their legs.

Willow got her suitcase out of the trunk and stared up at the familiar house, so dark and closed up.  She took out the key she’d had for years and let them all inside, going around turning on lights as she went.  She never stumbled in the dark, never fumbled for a switch, she knew all the rooms so well.  She made her way upstairs and peeked into Buffy’s room.  Dawn wanted her to stay, but it wouldn’t be in here.

Down the hall, she walked into Joyce’s room and put down her suitcase.  It was her room now.  It had been her room on the frequent occasions when she stayed overnight with Dawn when Buffy had a particularly late patrol, though on most of those nights she had shared it with Tara.  A small thrill went through her as she thought of sharing the room with Spike instead.  Not yet, though.  She and Dawn would need some time to adjust before she could let things get even more complicated by adding roommates.  Spike had his crypt, and for the time being, he could do his sleeping there.

When she came downstairs, Xander was sitting on the couch with Anya beside him, flipping through the channels on the TV.  Spike was sprawled in the armchair, and from the kitchen she could smell Dawn burning popcorn.  Spike patted his knee in invitation, and Willow settled herself in his lap.  A moment later, Dawn brought in a steaming bowl of salty snacks and placed it within reach of Xander, who snatched a handful that could not possibly fit in his mouth.  Dawn mocked him so he threw some of it at her, making her giggle and retaliate with puffy missiles of her own.

Willow surveyed the familiar scene and leaned back against Spike with a contented sigh.  He watched her, watching them and stroked her hair aside to whisper in her ear, “Welcome home, luv.”

~End~

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