Willow paced the floor of her bedroom prison. She knew that somewhere under the same gabled roof the two vampires were deciding her fate yet again.  <Probably doing more than that,> Willow silently mused. While there had been more than a little sexual tension between the sire and his blonde childe when they were all together, at the moment she could care less if they were professing their undying love for one another. Her life, her future, was in their hands, and she'd never been more confused in her whole incredibly long and frustratingly complicated life.

In some ways she was elated. Why shouldn't she be? It looked like Spike had arranged to get her out of there and just in time too, considering she now 'belonged' to Angelus and was his to do with what he pleased. Or so the Irish vampire thought, anyway. Of course, she had Spike to thank for that added complication as well. Still, a part of her wanted to hug Spike senseless for saving her from a fate that, for the most part, she didn't want to imagine at his sire's hands. But the larger, angrier portion of the exhausted woman desired nothing more than to strangle him, kick him, hit him, stake him . . . every violent thing that her overactive imagination had come up with over the past few years. Not that it would get her out of her current situation, but Willow was willing to bet that for a brief moment it would feel pretty damn good.

Wishing she had her guitar so she could lose herself in her music for just a little while, Willow instead had to find some other way to occupy her mind. Even as exhausted as she was, the argument with Spike had rejuvenated her momentarily. She wasn't exactly sure why, but just 0letting herself say what she was thinking, no matter how childish, was akin to a couple cups of coffee. Unfortunately, the energy boost was more mental than physical, so she found herself analyzing and reanalyzing everything that had been done and said over the past few days. When she added to that the possible consequences to the future, it only made the confusion increase and a dull throbbing start behind her eyes.

It was in an attempt to clear her mind that Willow had first taken to pacing and grumbling, and then to grumbling and pacing. She even took the time to loosen her corset and other overly tight undergarments, trying to get more comfortable. However, nothing could alleviate the aches and pains that come with overexerting an already driven-to-the-limit body, and she had to stop.Besides, it had done little to put her at ease.

Still on edge, she then took a seat at the large desk and explored it forthe first time. Willow was pleased to find several sheets of fine stationary, as well as a quill and ink. Thankful for any way to help pass the time, she began pouring out her thoughts onto paper. She started with everything that had happened at the poker weekend. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had first stepped into Mr. Simpson's manor with expectations of a profitable couple of days of card playing, when in fact only a few days had passed. How quickly things change, she thought--relatively speaking, of course. She went on to describe how she felt to find herself seated across from Angelus at the table, her vivid dreams that night, the carriage ride, and everything that had happened since then. She held nothing back, not even the odd dream she'd had while standing in front of the mirror. And for a few hours, Willow was able to momentarily forget about the crossroads at which she was standing. That's why when Spike burst through the door, Willow leapt out of her chair in startled fright.

"Get your stuff! We're leaving!" he commanded without so much as a glance at the redhead whose heart was hammering at top speed. Spike headed straight for the wardrobe, grabbed her bag, and started shoving her clothes in it.

Willow didn't move, except her jaw, which dropped open. "We're leaving? Just like that?"

Spike continued his rough packing of her things without bothering to look at her. "Are you deaf as well as dumb, Pet? Help me, or so help me, I'll drain every last drop of your blood and shove your unconscious body into this bleedin' bag and drag you out!"

Deciding that the details and her anger could wait until they were somewhere else, anywhere else, Willow silently grabbed a few necessities and finished packing. It required leaving her steamer trunk and most of the clothes that Angelus had acquired for her, but she didn't care. She'd buy new ones that were more suited to her taste. She looked around, making sure that she hadn't missed anything, and spotted her recent writings on the desk. She quickly snatched them up and folded them before adding the papers to her bag. Inspecting the room once more, Willow didn't see anything else that she wanted or needed. She didn't necessarily want to keep mementos of the past few days.

Spike still hadn't looked directly at her, but when she appeared to be done, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out of the room.

"Spike?" she questioned, struggling to keep up with the vampire's lengthy strides. "What's going on?"

"I suggest you shut your gob and make those little legs of yours move faster before either Angelus or I change our mind!" he growled, increasing the speed of his gait.

Willow opened her mouth to tell him just where he could shove his suggestion, but she soon saw the soundness in his advice and promptly silenced herself. She even did her best to pick up her pace a little bit, which wasn't an easy task considering the heavy carpetbag she was lugging with her. It wasn't until Willow almost tripped that Spike wordlessly grabbed the bag out of her hand before continuing to drag her along. Fortunately, there were no other vampires in the halls to hinder their progress. Even the previously posted guards were nowhere to be found.

After practically flying down the stairs, they reached the front door. Spike didn't hesitate to open it and step out into the night. Willow, however, was a little more reluctant. Something made her stop in the doorway and turn around.

He was there, just as she knew he'd be. Angelus was standing in the doorway to the parlor, watching her. They stared at each other, neither moving. Even though she knew that Angelus could change his mind at any second--every moment she dawdled could lead to the torment she was trying to escape--Willow couldn't make herself turn around and walk away. Not yet.

"Heard you're leaving us, Pet," a voice said from above, startling her slightly.

Willow's eyes darted up to see William at the top of the stairs.

"Well, I guess you and I'll be seeing each other again in about another century," he continued. "I only hope that by then I can get Angelus here to share you with me at least once before he kills you." His devilish expression grew into a huge grin. "Better yet, maybe someday I'll be calling you 'Mum'--one big happy but bloody family, right Red?"

"William . . ." Angelus growled. "Don't ya have somethin' else ta be doin'?"

"Just saying my good-byes, Angelus, like the true gentleman that I am. I didn't mean to ruin the mood," he teased.

Actually, ruining the mood a bit was exactly what William was trying to do, for his sire's sake. The younger vampire knew it couldn't be easy for Angelus to just let her go. And if making his sire a little irritated at him could help in any way, then he'd willingly set himself up for a little punishment. On the otherhand, William wasn't an idiot either, so he didn't push too hard. He just wanted to remind Angelus that he wasn't, and never would be, alone.

"Now, you two lovebirds behave," he added with a sly wink before disappearing back into Drusilla's room.

With William's exit, Willow's gaze automatically slid back down to meet Angelus's, and her breath caught. The look on Angelus's face was one she hadn't seen on him before, yet it was very familiar. It was Spike's 'Drusilla expression'--at least that's what she'd labeled it long ago. Anger born from ill-controlled frustration, jealousy, confusion, pain--all the feelings that a master vampire should be above--were minced together and shaped into one confusing look.

In the blink of an eye, it was gone. In its place stood the stoic, composed Angelus that Willow knew from both her waking and sleeping hours. Instantly she was telling herself that she'd been mistaken--that she couldn't have seen that much emotion in Angelus. Not only was he incapable of it, she wasn't capable of causing such a change in any man, living or dead, let alone Angelus.

"I have a gift fer ya, Rose." Angelus's smooth brogue interrupted her thoughts.

"Gift? No. I--I don't want a gift. I don't want anything you could give me."

Ignoring her objections, Angelus took a few slow steps closer, pinning her in place with his eyes. "Ah, my love, but I insist." Angelus reached into his waistcoat pocket and took out a small bundle, the simple movement spurring Willow back into action.

Shaking her head, Willow backed away until she came up hard against the jamb of the open door. Angelus stopped an arm's length away and held the gift out to her. Not able to quell her intrinsic curiosity, the redhead cast a quick glance at the item in his hand. Whatever it was, it was loosely wrapped in a piece of shiny black cloth, tied with a blood red ribbon in a simple but perfect bow. As she stared at Angelus's offering, Willow could imagine all sorts of possibilities, very few of which were pleasant. For some reason, the image of someone's still-beating heart kept coming to mind.

"No, thank you," she protested meekly.

Seeing that he had her attention, Angelus slowly unwrapped the piece of ebony silk until she could see what lay within it. She couldn't have been more wrong. The fabric didn't hide a bloody piece of human anatomy or even some type of warning, thinly disguised as a gift. It was her cross--the one she'd bought in Galway for protection after Angelus had been turned, the one that had gone missing from her room at Mr. Simpson's country house. Willow made no move to take it, but she couldn't hide her surprise at the odd present.

"You--you're giving me a cross? My cross. Why?"

Angelus's dark expression didn't change. "I need . . . *want* ya ta stay safe until we're together again. I be figurin', between Spike's protection and yer cross, ya should make it safely home. Of course, it might come in handy if Spike should happen ta misbehave. As ya said before, vampires aren't the most trustworthy creatures of the night, now are they?" he asked grimly as he carefully undid the clasp and held the necklace up to her.

"No . . . thank you," Willow repeated, albeit reluctantly because she really did want her cross back.

"Ya aren't leavin' without it, Rose," Angelus insisted with a slight smile for her continued stubbornness. "So ya might as well stop playin' the martyr and let me put it on ya now. Otherwise, I'll call Spike or Lambert in here ta hold ya still fer me while I place it around yer delicate little throat."

"I'll put it on myself, thank you." Willow reached out to grab the piece of jewelry, but Angelus held it close, out of her reach.

"That's not what I said, now was it, me little flower? Guess I'll ask Spike ta come back and hold ya."

"No!" Willow yelped as Angelus signaled to his childe who was watching everything from a short distance down the road. "Don't call him. I mean, you don't need Spike's assistance. You . . . you can put it on me . . . if you want."

Reluctantly, the redhead turned until her back was to Angelus. Facing the open door, she saw Spike stalking back toward them with a less-than-amused look on his pale face. Angelus, chuckling at her submission, motioned to Spike with a wave of his hand that he wasn't needed.

"Ya forgot ta say please, Rose. Now remember, I expect ya ta mind yer manners." There was a pause before he added, "And obey Spike as ya would me."

Even from where Spike had stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, the grin that formed on his face at Angelus's words was unmistakable. Willow gritted her teeth. As much as she hated to play his little game, she was only a few steps from freedom. She told herself she could swallow her pride . . . yet Again . . . if it meant being free from both of them.

"Yes, Angelus," she told him solemnly. "I'll obey him as if he were you."

"And . . ." Angelus whispered in her ear.

Turning her head just enough to meet his sable eyes over her shoulder, she prudently added, "Thank you for the kind gift, Angelus. Please, would you help me put it on?"

His mouth lowered, hovering achingly close to hers before twisting into a jeer. "That's a good lass."

Quickly looking away from his mocking yet handsome face, Willow had to take a deep breath to calm herself. She was so busy trying not to tremble from his closeness that she was oblivious to the slight quiver in Angelus's hands as he slipped the heavy chain with its ornate cross around her neck. After having worn it almost every day for nearly a century, it had become a part of her, and she'd missed it sorely. Willow welcomed its cool, familiar weight on the heated flesh over her hammering heart. She touched the symbol fondly, taking comfort in its familiar corners and curves.

Angelus's normally nimble fingers fumbled with the tiny clasp at the back of her slender neck. It was hard to focus when he could feel her warm, tender flesh next to his own skin. When the small latch was secure, his hands lingered of their own accord. Masterfully, he began massaging her taut muscles, kneading them into submission.

Willow didn't fight Angelus's soothing manipulations. As his fingers explored the exposed lines of her shoulders and neck, she let some of her tension drain away, all the time telling herself that she was simply playing along to hasten her escape. It was the sensation of his skin warming against hers and his thumbs tenderly tracing her hairline and collarbone that was mesmerizing. Her eyes were already half-closed when she suddenly remembered precisely where she was and the very real danger she was still in.

Alarmed and a little ashamed, Willow tried to move away, but Angelus resumed his hold on the necklace, denying her a quick escape. Slowly, he pulled her back against him, using the links of silver like a leash.

"Mine," he whispered with fierce possessiveness. "Tell me ya know that, Rose. Before I let ya walk away from me, tell me that yer mine."

Willow's heart fell and she stiffened against the vampire's touch. She knew it had been too easy. Apparently, Angelus had one more mind game to play.

Looking out the door, longing for escape, she noticed Spike watching them both from the bottom of the porch steps. Even in the dark she could see him clenching his jaw in impatience at her delay.

"No, I--I don't belong to anyone . . ." Willow said weakly. The reminder was mainly meant for the vampires, but she needed to hear it as well. "I don't care about your ritual. People don't own people," she managed a little more forcefully this time, not noticing Spike's face cloud with anger.

"Yer still so young," Angelus laughed, using his grip on her shoulders to turn Willow to face him. Sliding a hand from her shoulder down her arm, Angelus intertwined his fingers through hers. "What's a weddin' ring then, Rose?" he snickered, lifting their clasped hands to study the ring on her left hand. "It's just a symbol of ownership, no different than me mark that ya bear upon yer lovely throat."

"No! There's more to it than that," Willow interjected as she tried to wrench her hand free. The last thing she wanted to hear was Angelus's thoughts on the sanctity of marriage, but his grip was firm.

"Marriage is nothin' more than makin' a claim, showin' the world that ya belong ta someone else, Rose," he continued, easily keeping hold of her ringed hand despite her struggles.

Willow couldn't help herself from being drawn into the debate. "But at least in marriage, it's a two-way street. You promise yourself to each other. The couple *belongs* to each other, but they don't *own* each other!" she blurted out. <Great, Willow. Now it sounds like you want to own *him*. But . . . if I'm his, does that mean he's mine?>

Her mouth opened, the question poised on her lips, but she already knew the answer.

No. Angelus, in all his various incarnations, was never hers and never would be. He would always belong to someone else . . . whether it be Darla, William or Buffy . . . but never Willow, or Rose, for that matter. <Bloody hell . . .> she silently cursed to herself. <Why am I even thinking about this? Darn Spike . . . this is all his fault!>

Seeing her confusion, Angelus's twisted smirk turned into a throaty chuckle. "If it's that important ta ya, Rose, when we're together in yer time I'll marry ya . . . *then* I'll torture ya ta death. Consider it me weddin' present ta ya."

Willow winced, much to Angelus's delight, and he continued. "Say it, Rose. If ya want ta go home, tell me what I want ta hear . . . what ya know ta be true."

"I'm yours, Angelus," she finally conceded, somehow managing to look into his eyes as she spoke. "Forever." Unfortunately, the fingers she held crossed at her side, hidden in the folds of her gown, did nothing to lessen the humiliation she felt at her words.

With her admission, his possessive grip on her tightened, becoming more painful than sensual. It only reinforced his equally hardened voice. "Yer mine, Rose . . . now and forever . . . My mark upon ya is more bindin' than any ring that ya could ever wear, fer it goes beyond life. Yer death, when I finally allow it, will bring us even closer together."

Willow couldn't break free from his hungry gaze, let alone form a coherent thought. With agonizing slowness, Angelus gently drew her to him once again.

"Remember . . . this is just a delay, my love," Angelus murmured against her throat, his lips and tongue lightly skimming the quickened pulse point. "Nothin' will change but the settin'," he finished huskily.

And then he let her go.

The spell was broken. Willow paled at his words of warning as her fear roared back to life, stealing the air from the room. He was right. Nothing had changed. Spike had still 'given' her to Angelus, so all she'd done was gain time . . . time to imagine what his plans would be . . . time for him to perfect his plans of exquisite torment. <What was it that Angelus once said to Giles? They hadn't even invented chainsaws yet . . . .> Shaking her head to clear her mind of the new horrors, she backed out the door, turned, and ran as fast as she could.

Angelus watched her run away. Considering what he was, having a woman run away from him wasn't that unusual of an occurrence. What was unusual, though, was how much pain he felt with every step that took Rose away from him. He loathed having to let her go. It wasn't fair. Angelus had waited so damn long, finding her and then losing her again. She just kept slipping through his fingers. Worse yet, this time he was *letting* her go when all he really wanted was to carry through with his claim as was his right--bite her, drain her, hurt her in ways that he hadn't even thought of yet . . .

Kiss her, touch her, taste her, take her, and make her whimper and call out his name from pleasure instead of pain. Make her need him so much that she'd die without him.

Make her *want* to die for him.

Instead, he was sending her away and into Spike's care. The last thing he wanted was Spike's help, especially if that required him touching his Rose in anyway. It was bad enough that he had to wait more than another century to finally have her, but to have to release his prize into Spike's hands was far from reassuring, considering their past history. If he thought even for a moment that Spike actually had any real feelings or desire for Rose, Angelus never would have considered letting them go together. But Spike only had eyes for Drusilla, and that suited him just fine.

Angelus caught Spike's gaze one last time, holding it until the blonde vampire finally hurried to follow Willow. A slight smile tugged at the corners of Angelus's lips as he remembered the last few hours he'd spent alone with his blonde childe. Not that he could really forget, since he still ached pleasurably from the bruises and bite marks that covered his body. Being the eldest, Spike had certain rights to which Angelus rarely had to submit. He'd fought it at first, much to Spike's delight, but in the end Angelus surrendered completely. With a guttural growl of frustration at losing both Rose and Spike at the same time, Angelus slammed the front door closed then took the stairs to William's room three at a time.

***

Willow flew down the steps, rushing past Spike and down the dark street. She paid little attention to where she was going, just turning at the first corner she came across. Her only thoughts were of putting some distance between herself and Angelus. Willow didn't realize Spike had been following her until she slowed to catch her breath and her bearings, and he stepped out of the shadows.

"So, now that you've had your tearful good-byes, are you ready to go home, love?" Spike asked grimly.

Willow came to an abrupt stop. Spike's sudden appearance and dark words did nothing to quell her panic. She shook her head and started backing away.

"No, way! Uh-uh! If you think I'm going back now just so I can be a plaything for the short-haired, leather-panted version of Angelus, you're dead wrong!" Willow informed him.

"You're half right, Red," Spike smirked as he lunged for her, pulling her close before she could get more then three steps away or make a grab for her cross. "We're going back to Galway so we can end this bloody nuisance of a spell once in for all!" he said very loudly, causing Willow to flinch.

"No!" she struggled against him, "not before I can find the cu--"

Her words were quickly cut off as Spike clamped a hand over her mouth, which she promptly bit.

"Bloody hell, Red!" he hissed softly, shaking his throbbing hand. "I'm all for making this look good, but I'd prefer not to be trailing blood through all of London!"

"What?" she exclaimed, still fighting him.

"I don't think we're being followed yet, but you can bet your corset we will be. Keep your voice down and just play along for now."

"No!" Willow told the vampire angrily. She didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about and at that point, she didn't care. "I'm not going anywhere with you! I hate you . . . more than anything . . . more than frogs. . . more than--"

"More than Angelus?" Spike interrupted.

"Why? Is it a contest?" she retorted in a tone that easily echoed the coldness in Spike's voice. "Sorry, but you'll have to settle for a tie."

"Fine, Pet," he said sharply, letting her go. "Yet again, I welcome your hatred of me." Spike turned and began strolling away. "I just thought you might want to find your little Rom mates and see about a certain curse," he added over his shoulder, just loud enough for the wide-eyed redhead to hear. "But if you'd rather hold grudges, well . . ."

He'd caught Willow totally off guard. Never before had Spike even hinted at the possibility of allowing Angelus to 'live', let alone be cursed with his soul once again. That had always been her plan, not his. Curious and more than a little bewildered, Willow quickly grabbed her bag that Spike had dropped on the damp cobblestones and shuffled after the blonde vampire. With some difficulty, she was able to get in front of him, stopping his progression.

"What did you say?" she demanded, poking him in the chest with one angry finger.

Spike pursed his lips and glanced back over her shoulder, checking to make sure they were still alone. "You heard me. But we can't talk about it here, not now." As if the discussion were closed, Spike turned on his heels and continued his cocky stride away from his old home. But Willow was not about to be ignored, again.

Throwing her bag down and stamping her foot in rage, Willow called after him. "We *are* going to talk about it right here and now. I'm *not* going anywhere with you until I know what's going on! And even then, it's doubtful!

Spike spun around, his patience quickly withering under her stubbornness. Thankfully, it appeared as if they were still alone.

"Look, Pet. You're just going to have to trust me, aren't you? So for now, quit your whinging and hurry up! Otherwise, you might as well just turn around and walk right back into that house, tie yourself up, and get ready for some incredible pain," he instructed her, waving a finger in the general direction from which they'd come. "No matter what Angelus feels for you . . . no matter how much he wants you," Spike said with obvious distaste, "his plans hardly involve long romantic strolls on the bloody beach or odes of undying love. He'll hurt you in ways you can't even imagine, Red."

Willow stood as straight as her overwrought body would allow and jutted out her chin in defiance. "I know that, Spike. Believe it or not, I hardly intended to ask Angelus to take me to the Prom. I'm aware that he doesn't really care about me. It's just an infatuation . . . obsession . . . and not in the good way."

Spike shook his head as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "You have no idea, my little virgin."

"Wrong again, Spike. There isn't anything that I haven't imagined . . . or dreamed. Every night my mind comes up with some new horror. I don't need you to spell it out for me or draw me pictures!"

Spike purposely and savagely clenched his jaw, hoping it hid the grimace caused by her words. "Well then, since you're so up with the state of the play, what'll it be?" he asked Willow coolly.

She stood her ground, but her voice was shakier. "Why should I trust you again?"

Unable to hold her gaze, Spike studied his shoes for a bit. It was a good question. Yes, it was a very good question. He only wished his answer were its equal.

"Because," he eventually began, meeting her angry eyes, "for the first time we have the same bloody goal in mind, Willow, and because you have sod-all choice."

"And what goal might that be?" she pressed further.

He took a couple of steps closer so he wouldn't have to speak so loudly. "I don't want Angelus back in Sunnydale anymore than you do. As much as it kills me to say this, I'll do whatever it damn well takes to make sure that it's your favorite soulful vampire, *Angel,* that migrates to Sunnydale and not the new and improved Angelus."

"You will?" she asked skeptically, receiving a curt nod from the blonde demon in return.

Willow was silent as she contemplated Spike's little revelation. It came back to Drusilla, yet again. Spike was obviously not willing to take *any* chance that Angelus might renew his interest in the vampiress. Yet, she'd thought that things had changed between Spike and his sire, so Willow was actually a little surprised at his confession. She scrutinized him for a moment, trying to find a trace of the Spike that she once knew intimately, but she just couldn't be sure who he was anymore. Then her eyes noticed something interesting on his neck.

"By the looks of that little love bite you have there, I'd think you'd be happy to have Angelus in town," she said caustically, pointing to the healing bite wound on his throat. "You two seemed to have gotten quite chummy, considering you ruined my life to kill him and all."

Spike's hand rose to a bite mark and a sheepish grin crossed his face. "This is nothing, Red. You should see the ones I left him to remember me with. Oh yeah . . . sometimes it's good to be the oldest," Spike sighed, his grin broadening as he wagged his eyebrows suggestively. His good humor quickly faded, however, when Willow's cold façade didn't soften in the slightest.

"Look," Spike groaned, "I know you have little bloody reason to believe me or trust me, but I'm sure if you give it some thought, you'll understand why I don't want Angelus back in Sunnydale."

Willow shook her head in resignation as she picked up her things and started slowly walking again, Spike at her side. She tried to come up with all sorts of noble reasons why he would want to ensoul Angelus and keep him that way. It definitely wasn't for her own sake. His behavior for the past few days proved that. So that left only one thing. As she'd suspected all along, he'd do it for Drusilla.

"Drusilla," she answered without looking at him.

"Give the girl a cookie. You got it on the first guess," he said without much enthusiasm.

"Fine. You don't want to share Drusilla, again, so you're willing to stick around for another few decades so we can make sure the gypsies curse Angelus with his soul."

"Only this time, it'll be permanent. None of this bloody happiness clause to muck up all our fun."

Willow stopped and tightened her grip on the bag. "I'll take care of it," she said formally, as if accepting a new job assignment. "When it's done, I'll meet you at our spot in the park in just under 40 years."

Not waiting for Spike's response, Willow changed direction. She didn't know exactly where she was going. All she cared about for now was that it took her far away from both Angelus and Spike. However, the blonde vampire had other ideas, and he put her exit to an abrupt halt, seizing her by both shoulders.

"And just where the bloody hell do you think you're . . ."

His question was cut off as he suddenly found himself sailing through the air to once again land with a loud thud at Willow's feet.

". . . going?" he ended with a grunt. In the split second that stars were dancing in his head, Spike still had the presence of mind to make a mental note to someday ask Willow where she picked up that move. When he came to his senses, Spike was a little annoyed that Willow ignored both his question and his plight. She simply picked her bag up from where she'd dropped it when she flipped the vampire, and then proceeded to step over him and continue along in her previous direction.

Spike scrambled to his feet and rushed after her. Not wanting to make the mistake of trying to stop her again, the vampire this time got in front of her and blocked her path. Each time she tried to step around him, he easily obstructed her new route.

Finally, an angry and tired Willow threw her bag down. "Just get out of my way! I'll take care of everything with the Rom and meet you back here! So, why don't you go find yourself some . . . some gaunt, Drusilla look-a-like to suck on for the next few decades, live in your little fantasy world, and leave me alone!" she huffed.

Ignoring her gibes, Spike shook his head. "Sorry, Red. No can do. We're going to finish this thing together. No more splitting up . . . no more Separations . . . it's about bloody time we started trying to make this marriage work."

Spike's attempts to make Willow smile failed miserably.

"I don't want to be with you for another 40 years!" she informed him in no uncertain terms. "I don't want to be with you for another 40 seconds!"

"I don't see as you have a choice, Pet. So grow up and--"

He never got to finish the statement. Spike's mouth was closed for him when Willow landed a punch squarely to his face. Spike's head snapped back under the surprising force of the petite redhead's blow. <Bloody hell . . . where *did* she learn all these new moves?>

Rubbing his jaw, the vampire refocused on Willow in amusement. "Got yourself quite a le--"

"My right isn't bad, either," she informed him as her other fist made contact with the opposite side of his face.

Spike's eyes sparked yellow, but the warning quickly faded. "Now, I can't help wondering why you never hit Angelus like that, Pet! Maybe you didn't really want to get away," he insinuated, making Willow's eyes widen in shock.

"What? Hey . . . wait! We both know what would've happened if I even dared to lift a finger against Angelus," she growled, wanting to smack the twisted smile off his face permanently. "I certainly wouldn't be standing here right now, so don't you dare suggest that--"

"But you dared to lift a finger against me, didn't you, Red?" Spike reminded her, interrupting her angry outburst. "Doesn't that mean something?"

Willow's eyes widened at the implication. She had been so caught up in her own anger and confusion that it had never even occurred to her that Spike had every right to retaliate for her striking him--twice. After all, the Irish vampire had told her to obey Spike as if he were Angelus.

Seeing a glimpse of fright creep into her face, Spike quickly changed tactics. He'd been trying to make a point, not scare her.

"I guess it just never occurred to me that maybe you didn't want to get away until now. You don't look the sadist type, but then again, it's always the quiet ones, isn't it?" he teased lightly. "Shame we didn't have a little more time together to explore that side of your personality more thoroughly."

Indignation soon pushed her fear into the background, causing Willow's mouth to open and close a few times as she fought with herself over her answer. In the end, she refused to give him the satisfaction and simply repeated her initial question instead. "Why should I go with you?"

Spike's face darkened as he realized she wasn't going to make this easy for him. He wondered if he should even bother trying to make it up to her. That was an easy question. Yes. Without a doubt.

"Willow . . ." he started softly, trying very hard to keep his tone light. "First of all, we *both* have to go to Galway. Angelus is going to send one of his minions to spy on us, so we better come up with some bloody good illusion to fool him into thinking that we actually did the spell and it worked! Then, and only then, can we head to the continent and try to find the damned Rom." When the only response he got from the redhead was one of the most evil glares he'd ever seen, he continued. "Look . . . I know you're angry. You probably want to use my entrails for dental floss right now," Spike continued, not even drawing a look of disgust from the virginal redhead, "but I'm not letting you do this alone. You can hate me if you want. You can spit in my handsome face every single day for the next four decades if it'll make you feel any better--which I kinda hope you don't," he added as a sidebar, "because my skin is very sensitive and dries out easily. Point is, you're stuck with me. So you might as well get used to it."

This time, before she could reply, he picked up her bag and trudged back in the original direction he'd started out in--toward his own residence. Willow didn't watch him go. Instead she remained where she was, her face in her hands.

"Nothing in my life is ever simple anymore," she repeated wearily into her palms. Finally prying them away, Willow took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She'd go to Galway with him, concoct some phony spell with some colored smoke and a little gunpowder, and then . . . . Well, she'd worry about that later. With one last look around, Willow hurried after Spike.

Hearing Willow's footsteps behind him, Spike stopped and waited. He chose not to turn and face her, but he could still see her well enough with his peripheral vision. Willow was also looking straight ahead, purposely not looking at the vampire beside her.

"Are we ready then?" he asked her.

"Yes," Willow replied firmly, then quickly snatched her bag out of his hand. "I can carry my own bag," she said firmly, and in unison they both started back up the street.

After a brief moment, Spike couldn't resist trying again. "You just spent your first 40 seconds with me. Now, was that really so bad?" he joked.

Willow gritted her teeth and kept her eyes on the road ahead. "Why don't you shut *your* bloody gob, Spike, and see about hailing us a hansom cab?"

Spike clenched his jaw viciously as he silently counted from 1 to 40. It was going to be a long trip.

***** The next day, after stopping off at Spike's old place to pick up a few things and tie up some loose ends, they were on a train and headed for Wales.  From there, they would catch the ferry to Ireland.

Spike and Willow sat across from each other in a private compartment.  The shade was pulled down on the window of the cabin door to give them privacy, but the shade to the outside was up so that Willow could enjoy the scenery. Luckily for Spike, the sun was on the other side of the train at the moment. They hadn't said more than ten words to each other since Willow had told him to shut up the night before, and then only out of necessity.  Since they had gotten on the train two hours earlier, neither had uttered a syllable.

The droning of the train and its constant rocking motion was making it hard for Willow to stay awake.  As much as she wanted to watch the beautiful English countryside go by, she couldn't keep her eyes open.  Giving in to her body's demands, she laid her head back against the seat cushion and closed her eyes.

Spike, who was busy reading a first edition of 'Les Liaisons Dangereuses,' peeked at Willow when he felt her relax.  He'd hoped she would get some sleep because she looked exhausted.  Maybe when she was better rested she'd be a little more reasonable and let him explain.  He returned to his book but had only gotten about ten more pages done before she surprised him by speaking.

"Spike?" she asked with her eyes still closed.

Spike barely glanced up from his book.  "Yes, Willow."

"Why are we going to Galway?"

"Because I told Angelus that the spell had to be done in the exact same spot where we originally arrived.  It doesn't, of course, but he doesn't know that.  Stupid git."

The next silence lasted long enough for Spike to read another few pages.

"Why?" she asked, breaking the stillness.

Knowing what she meant, Spike replied, "Because otherwise the pillock would have made us do the spell right there in front of him so he could watch. This way, Angelus won't be around, and we'll be able to fool the stupid sods he sent to follow us."

Silence again.  This time six pages were read.

"Why doesn't he come himself?"

The blonde vampire resisted the urge to ask if she missed Angelus's company that much.

"Two reasons.  One is the wayward world-traveler Darla is due back in a couple of days, and as her childe, he needs to be there to welcome her home with open arms and veins.  Two, he doesn't trust himself around you.  He knows if he's near you for much longer, he won't be able to stop himself.  I guess we should be thankful you're so irresistible, Willow," he deadpanned.

Willow didn't open her eyes, let alone rise to his bait.  She was worn-out and in desperate need of sleep.  Unfortunately for both of them, there were too many unanswered questions.

"Spike?" she said after another long break.

By this time, Spike was equally as tired and had mimicked her position, having put his book away for the time being.

"Still here," he retorted.

This was the hardest question of all, but the one Willow needed answered the most.

"The things you said to me . . . did you mean them?  All of them?"

"Yes, Willow," he replied calmly.  "Everything I said to you I meant, at least at the time I did."

A soft, "Oh," was all she could manage in response.  Even though she had expected as much, it hurt to hear him say it, more than she wanted him to know.

Many long minutes later, it was Spike's turn.  "Willow?"

"Still here," she whimpered after a deep breath.

"Which things in particular are you worried about, because I'd bet Angel's soul right now that you're replaying every bloody little thing I've ever said to you in that busy box of a brain of yours.  Be specific and I'll tell you the truth."

Playing along for the moment, Willow focused her myriad of doubts down to the basic root of all her questions.  In the end, there were two incidents that really plagued her--the rest she could either flag away to simply being his ego or his temper talking.  She was used to that from the vampire.  The one thing she did need to know was if Spike really had used her like he'd implied.

"The things you said to me just yesterday . . . about when we were . . . you know, together . . . did you mean those?" she asked softly, hoping to answer most of her questions with his one reply.  "Tell me the truth.  No matter how much it may hurt, I want the truth."

There was a long pause, but just as she was about to take his silence for the answer, he spoke.

"Willow, look at me."

Too tired to make things difficult, she finally lifted her head and opened her eyes.

"What did I say to you last night . . . exactly?" he questioned her.

She took a deep breath and began repeating his words almost verbatim. Spike's face remained unreadable as he listened to his own comments about sacrifice and friendship and how easy it was to get her to volunteer to trade places with Drusilla.  When she stopped, right after his remark about making herself pretty for Angelus, Spike leaned forward in his seat.  Having said all she could bear to, Willow waited for his answer, but instead he just stared at her, waiting.  Willow returned his stare in anticipation.

Eventually he spoke first.  "Finish it, Willow.  Finish what I said to you. There was more."

She knew there was more.  Willow just didn't want to have to say the words and relive the humiliation again, but Spike was insisting.  His eyes wouldn't let her end it there.  Finally, she forced herself to go on.

"You . . . you said that you knew what Angelus was going to do to me, and you only wished you could help."

Spike kept watching her.  "No, that's no quite what I said.  Say it again, word for word, just like I said to you," he insisted, still watching her intently.

Willow glared at him for his cruelty, but did what he said anyway.  "You said, and I quote, 'Yes, I do know.  I'm only sorry I can't help him!'"  She had to practically spit the words out to utter them, but she met his eyes and held them, demanding an explanation.

"I think you forgot something, Pet.  That isn't all I said," Spike insisted.

Willow was ready to scream she was so frustrated.  "Enough with the damned games, Spike!  Just tell me the truth!"

He shook his head.  "You already know the answer.  Think about what I said. Say it again!"

"No!" she yelled at him.  "I don't need to repeat the words.  Fine!  I get it!  You meant every word you said to me just like you already told me.  You don't have to rub it in, all right?"

Spike chuckled as he sat back in his seat and took out a cigarette. Sometimes she was more fun to get all stirred up than Angelus was.

She glared at the vampire one more time before closing her eyes, picturing her 'happy place,' and forcing herself to relax.  Just when she'd calmed down and was trying to come to terms with the fact that Spike had used her all along, he interrupted her thoughts.

"Willow?"

"What!" she growled through gritted teeth, refusing to open her eyes.

"My exact words were, 'Yes, I do know.  I'm only sorry I can't help him, Rose,'" Spike reminded her.

Willow never wished she had a stake or even a slab of wood and a sharp knife so badly in her whole life.  She'd whittle a stake right now if she had to.

"That's what I said . . . that you said . . ." she huffed a little awkwardly.

Seeing some humor in the situation that Willow didn't, Spike grinned.  "For such a smart woman, you aren't very bloody bright, Willow."

Suddenly Willow's eyes opened, and then grew wider.  "Oh, I get it!  You just want to make me cry again, don't you . . . or . . . or this is just some little subplot you contrived with Angelus to drive me insane . . . or . . ."

Shaking his head, Spike felt a little guilty for teasing her.  After all, she'd been through a lot.  She was exhausted and barely able to stay awake, let alone think straight.  He moved to sit next to her, taking her wrists in his hands before she could move away.

"I said, *Willow,*" Spike began again, more slowly this time, "'I'm only sorry I can't help him, *Rose.*'"

Willow winced at the words, not wanting to hear them ever again, but now they were bouncing around in her head like a half-dozen super-charged atoms. A tear started to slide down her cheek and she hated herself for crying again.  <Wonder if Spike thinks of my tears as a gift just like Angelus thought of Rose's . . .> she speculated morosely.

Rose.  Willow.  <*Rose!*  *Willow!*>

She sat up straight and looked at Spike, her mouth falling open.  "I'm Willow," she said very seriously, looking him straight in the eye.  "I'm not Rose."

Spike heaved a sigh of relief and let go of her hands to throw his up in the air.  "Finally!  Thank the ever-bloody Lord!" he exclaimed.  "I was starting to think I was going to have to draw pictures or something!"  He started laughing, but the sounds soon died on his lips when he noticed Willow wasn't even smiling.  She was still staring at him.

His face fell.  "Crikey, love.  You aren't going through every conversation we ever had again are you?"

Willow could only nod.

He turned so he faced her directly.  "Let me make it easy.  The things I said during--"

But Willow interrupted him before he could launch into a lengthy explanation.  "Hold on, Buster!" she suddenly said, stabbing at him with a long finger.  "Don't try to make me think you had this planned all along--the swapping and the ritual and the running back to Galway for a light show--because I'm not buying it!  You meant a lot of the things you said to me.  I saw the way you looked at me, and. . ." she stopped, trying to find the right words.  Only one seemed to fit, so she took a deep breath and said it.  "You *loathed* me.  And I'm not even talking about what happened that night we saw Dru," she added.

Spike ran a hand through his hair in frustration.  So much had happened, but the last thing either of them needed was to rehash every moment of their relationship right now.

"Willow," he said as softly and sincerely as demonly possible, but he was a bit out of practice, "I won't apologize for the things I said or did that night we saw Drusilla.  And I won't patronize you by saying that I didn't mean them.  At the bloody time, I meant every word of it.  I wanted to hurt you a bit . . . *needed* to even.  I can't explain it any better than to say when I saw Drusilla and then lost her again because of you, I snapped.  End of story."

Willow looked at him blankly for a moment.  She understood most of what he said.  After all, she'd pretty much come to terms with his reaction after seeing his Dark Goddess already.  But it wasn't enough.  There was still the matter of his behavior the last few days.

"You call that an apology?  I already said I understand why you reacted the way you did to seeing Drusilla.  And I kinda understand why you said the things you did and why you behaved like such a . . . a .  . . poophead!" she said wearily, too drained to even muster a good insult.  "And although I'm not happy about the way you bit me or--or what you said or that you broke my guitar, I understand.  Like I said, I don't care about that!  It's what's happened the last three days that you need to explain to me."

Spike sat up a little straighter.  He'd thought he was prepared for her all of her inevitable questions, but instead he found himself going on the defensive.

"Explain?  Explain what?  I saved your cute little ungrateful ass!  And have I heard a simple thank you yet?  Not bloody likely."

"What?" she exclaimed unbelievingly.

"Listen, Princess.  If I hadn't come along when I did, you'd be sitting there quite dead."

Willow blinked at him.

"Err . . . or lying there, I suppose," the vampire continued.  "You know what I mean!  Without me, Angelus would have had his wicked way with you by now and we'd both be suffering the consequences."

Willow couldn't believe the vampire's gall.  His ego was as bad as his sire's.  "So you expect my undying gratitude for everything you've done to me?"

"Bloody hell, Pet.  I don't want your first born or anything.  I'd settle for a simple 'Thank you, Spike.  You're my hero!'" he said in a falsetto voice, batting his eyelashes.

Willow's irritation grew at Spike's casual attitude.  "I can't believe you expect me to thank you for . . . for--"

Spike vaulted to his feet, startling Willow enough that she forgot what she was saying.  "And I can't bloody believe that you are so daft as to not see what I did for you!" he informed her as he began pacing the length of the small compartment.

"*For* me?  *To* me is more like it!" she retorted, standing up to face Spike directly.  "For starters, you said some horrible things, demeaned me, and --"

Spike groaned.  This wasn't going the way he expected.  After all, she was an intelligent woman.  She should've been able to figure it all out by now with a little thought.

"Oh, come on, Willow!  Angelus was standing in the bloody hallway when I said those things, wasn't he?  If you hadn't kept pestering me for an answer and babbling on about friendship, then I wouldn't have had to say all that, now would I?  And, like I said before, I was saying all of those horrible things to *Rose*, remember?" he ground out, his patience wearing thin.  He could go on for hours, giving explanations for the various things he'd said and done, but he felt that he shouldn't have to.  "Besides, even if I did say them to you, Willow, big bloody deal!  So I had to hurt your feelings a little bit in order to save your whiny little bum.  You think Angelus would have made this deal if he thought we sat around giving each other pedicures and discussing the meaning of life?"

Willow deflated a little.  "Well, no . . . but . . ."

"And don't forget William," he reminded her, catching what he thought was a small spark of understanding in her face and wanting to build on it.  "You know, if I hadn't been there, the younger, less worldly and understanding version of me would have enjoyed showing you what kind of demon he was. Kneeing him in the family jewels wasn't very bright when there was nowhere to go, Red."

"But--but I almost escaped before you stopped me!" Willow declared, drawing another groan of disbelief from the vampire across from her.

"You think you would've escaped?" Spike scoffed.  "You think Angelus would just let you walk out?  Doubtful, Pet.  He would have caught you and then spent then next fortnight reminding you what happens when you disobey him. And he wouldn't have been using words to punish you like I did, Willow. Trust me.  You got off easy."

Willow frowned and then began gnawing on her lower lip.  Easy?  It didn't feel easy.  Not only did she have to listen to Spike's hateful comments, she also had to put up with Angelus's mind games--games that made Willow wonder what Angelus may have had in mind for her in the original future.  <Stop it, Willow!  You'll drive yourself crazy.  It was a game . . . all a game . . . and now it's over!  God. . . please let it be over!>

Plunking herself back down on the leather train seat, Willow was silent, much to Spike's relief.  He hoped it was all beginning to sink in now. Unfortunately, his hopes were shattered when Willow's interrogation continued.

"But Spike, why did you have to *give* me to him . . . and then pretend that you were going to save me . . ."

Spike rolled his eyes.  "I can't believe you're all boo-hooey about that. It worked, didn't it?  You're free, and without so much as a broken nail from the experience.  And I did try and let you know that it would be over soon.  Not my fault if you're too bloody thick to see through my little play."

"You tried to let me know?  How?" she queried skeptically.

"How?"  His disbelief raised his voice to near shouting level.  "I said I wouldn't let them hurt you!  I--I squeezed your bloody shoulders as reassuringly as I could!"  Spike ran his hands down his tired face.  He just couldn't seem to get through to her.  "Give me a break, Willow.  I'm a demon after all.  Playing the white knight doesn't come easy to me.  But you're a bright girl, so I'd thought you'd figure it out."  Turning away from her so that she couldn't see just how close to losing his temper he really was, Spike banged his head against the interior wall of the compartment a few times . . . just to calm himself.  "I guess next time I'll have to wear a white hat or something so you won't have so much trouble telling the good guys from the bad guys," he grumbled.  His sarcasm wasn't lost on Willow.

"I don't' think they make a hat big enough for an ego as large as yours. And you're no John Wayne, Spike.  John Wayne never just threw a girl to the wolves like you did!"

Spike spun around.  "That's enough, Willow!  Come on!  What do I have to do to get it through that thick skull of yours?  This is bloody ridiculous! Don't you see a pattern yet?  It took me awhile, but I came up with a plan, and I did everything I could to get you out of there before anything too horrible happened.  Sure, I had to change the plan a bit now and then, but I did the best I could, and if you don't like it, well. . . you can just sit around and feel sorry for yourself for the next 40 years.  I'm getting pretty used to your childish moods by now!"

"And," he continued before Willow could express her anger, "You're just damn lucky I think so fast on my feet!"

"Oh yeah," Willow snorted, crossing her arms over her chest in a disgruntled display.  "I'm the luckiest girl in the world.  I'm practically betrothed to Angelus who's going to spend the next 100 years coming up with all sorts of wonderful ways to spend our honeymoon."

Spike sighed.  She just didn't seem to get it.  "Why are you even worrying about that?  I already told you, I've no bloody intention of ever allowing Angelus to show up in Sunnydale.  Basically, I gave you to *Angel*, not Angelus,"  Spike reminded her, confusing Willow all the more.

She was almost afraid to ask.  "Um  . . . so?"

The vampire wanted to scream.  He just couldn't believe it was taking her so long to understand.  The only thing he could come up with to explain her behavior was that she must have been even more exhausted than she looked, which would make her equivalent to the walking dead at that moment.  Finding a long forgotten well of patience somewhere within, Spike tried to spell it out for her while lightening the mood at the same time.

"We're talking about our Angel here, Willow.  Remember the broody bore with no fashion sense?  At most, he'll cry and beg your forgiveness until you're ready to stake him yourself just to shut him the bloody hell up.  Although, I suppose putting up with brood-vamp is a bit of a torture in itself. 'Course, since the curse won't be in effect, you'll likely have to pry him from out between the Slayer's legs for that apology."

Willow barely took any notice of his crude comments.  She was too busy rubbing her temples as the dull pressure in her head grew.  Spike was right. . . why hadn't she figured that out before?  Maybe the vampire really had thought this whole thing through.  And besides, they were only words, right? Angelus didn't have any 'real' power over her.

Willow offered him a weak attempt at a smile, hoping it conveyed the beginning of her understanding.  Relieved to see a spark of comprehension in his companion's face, Spike continued.

"Or he'll pretend it never happened because he won't be sure that it ever did," he added, totally catching Willow off guard.  Her eyes widened; her brief moment of lucidity was shattered.

"But . . . why would he think it never really happened?"

Spike shrugged.  "Because, as I figure it, there's a good bloody chance that you and I won't even remember it, love.  Well, I'll remember bits of it, I Suppose . . . the 'William' part, but not the rest."

"Y--you think we won't remember?  That we'll forget the whole last 100 years?" Willow squeaked.  She was beginning to feel like the least intelligent one in the room, which did nothing to quell her aching head. Even with Spike's explanations, she couldn't think straight.  It was too much for the weary girl to sort out at one time.

"Maybe, maybe not," he said matter of factly.  "If we do, it'll be confusing.  The old future and the new one, the past century, and then whatever the hell is happening in between while we're gone.  I don't know, love, but I suspect it's a strong possibility."

Willow's face fell.  "Oh.  I never thought that we wouldn't remember this whole thing.  I guess it would be confusing, especially for you with the old William and the new William and everything.  You're reliving, or um, re-unliving you old past, but it's the first time for me.  It might be difficult to keep track of."

"Too right.  I think we'll all be better off if we don't remember.  You won't have to worry about every little thing that you did . . . like seducing both me and Angelus," he teased, then went on before she could express her irritation at his suggestive tone.  "Plus, there's the added bonus of Angel thinking he's insane," Spike said with a satisfied smirk. "So see?  It's not that bad, Red.  We just have to get through the next few decades, and then it'll all be over, and all will be right with the world."

"Yeah . . . um, great . . ." Willow responded absent-mindedly.  Between her headache and utter exhaustion, Willow just couldn't think about it anymore. She wasn't sure she even wanted to.  She looked at Spike and found him staring at her questioningly.

"I'm going to try and get some sleep now.  Too much information makes Willow's brain go numb.  I'll try to make some sense of it all later," she murmured sleepily as she tried to make herself comfortable on the hard seat.

Spike frowned.  Somehow he'd expected her to be a bit more excited with the thought of putting everything behind her and not having to really deal with some of the possible consequences.  Plus, it was apparently going to take her awhile to accept what he'd done to free her.  Yet, even taking that into account, in Spike's opinion, something still didn't seem right with the redhead.  He only hoped a good kip was the answer--they were both tired.

"Take your time, Pet," he whispered so softly that he wasn't even sure she'd even heard him.  "I'm not going anywhere."  Spike then flopped back down on the bench across from Willow, stretching out before closing his eyes and feigning sleep.

Sleep didn't come to Willow either, much to her dismay.  Instead she watched the world go by outside her window.  It was hard for her to believe that she might not even remember this beautiful country when all was said and done.

"Spike . . ." she said in a whisper awhile later.

"Still here," answered Spike, opening his eyes to find Willow still watching the scenery.

She let out a deep, cleansing breath.  "We really screwed-up the timeline good this time, didn't we?"

Spike smirked.  "Willow . . . I've a feeling that by the time we're actually done and get back to civilization, we'll be bloody lucky if the sky's still blue."

"Oh well . . ." Willow said in a sigh.  "I always thought a purple sky would be much better anyway."

"Purple?" the blonde vampire snorted.  "I was thinking more along the lines of black or blood red, myself."

"What a surprise," Willow remarked, rolling her eyes.

Relieved to see some of his old Willow and even a ghost of a smile, Spike flashed her a roguish grin.  "What can I say, Pet?  Some things never change."

Willow wanted to laugh.  More than anything, she wished everything could be like it was before--before she had been discovered by Angelus at the poker game, before she and Spike had happened upon Drusilla on the street, and even before she and the blonde vampire had shared a bed.  She would welcome another lifetime of the teasing and the sexual tension over a minute of this awkwardness and doubt.  She couldn't go back, though.  And even if it were possible, something deep within her wasn't ready to move on.

Willow closed her eyes, willing herself to relax.  Before she finally succumbed to sleep, she murmured, "I hope you're right, Spike.  I hope you're right."
 

~Chapter Thirty-seven~

Considering the drastic changes in their relationship over the past few years, things started off fairly well for Willow and Spike after they left London.  They worked together during the long train trip and then the ferry ride to Ireland to come up with a feasible plan for tricking the vampires that Angelus had sent to spy on them.

Spike had easily spotted the spying demonic duo when he and Willow first stopped at her old home near Bath.  Since they wanted it to appear as if they were never coming back, they'd paused there long enough to pick up some of her personal things and tie up a few loose ends.   Luckily for them, and just as Spike had hoped, the vampires Angelus had sent, while being unquestionably loyal, weren't rocket scientists by any means.  With Willow's minor knowledge of witchcraft, her more significant knowledge of science, and Spike's long-since-used familiarity with gunpowder from his days as a soldier, they both were fairly confident in their ability to create an impressive display.  And in a few days, when the vampires watching them were entranced by all of the colored smoke and fireworks, the amateur David Copperfields hoped to make their escape unnoticed.  Then, while they were on their way to Europe, Angelus would be hearing from his minions how Spike and Rose had successfully completed the spell, disappearing before their eyes like magic.

That was the basic scheme, but first things were first.  They had a lot of work to do in Galway if their 'smoke and mirror' plan was going to succeed.

When they finally arrived back in Galway, Spike and Willow threw themselves completely into the task at hand. Neither of the time-travelling pair would mention it, but they both found it more than a little disconcerting to be back in Galway again.  They were innately aware that their reunion was fragile enough without dredging up the months of memories--both pleasant and painful--that the Irish city held for them.  Neither had been back since that fateful night in 1753, and now they hardly recognized it for all the changes it had endured over the century. So many things were new, while other centerpieces of their 18-century lives were long-since gone.  Yet surprisingly, many familiar places had managed to withstand both the ravages of time and the recent famine that had devastated much of Ireland a decade or so before.  The small inn where they'd stayed the first few nights and even the cottage that they had later shared were both still standing.  Not that they'd intentionally looked for either of these places; they didn't have time to waste reminiscing or sightseeing.  Willow and Spike had simply come across them as they meandered through the town, gathering the needed supplies for their covert escape.  They'd paused for only the briefest moment when they realized they were near one of their old haunts, then wordlessly added it to the list of things that they didn't discuss.  The list had grown quite large by that time.  Not that they discussed that either.
 
Nor did they go out much.  Not only did daylight limit the number of Spike's outdoor hours, but they had to keep up appearances as well.  For the benefit of the humans around them, they had decided en route to renew the act of husband and wife.  Then, during the darker hours when Spike was not constricted by sunlight, they also had to assume the roles of a rather irritated master vampire and his less than enthusiastic human companion to keep the vampires watching them fooled as well.

At first, Willow had bristled at the thought of having to replay her more subservient role. The last thing she wanted was a reminder of some of her submissive demeanor while in Angelus's company or that in his eyes, at least, she was now nothing more than property.  Spike had to reassure her yet again that in the great scheme of things the ritual hardly meant anything to anyone other than the Irish vampire.  Reluctantly, she eventually gave in, understanding how important it was to maintain appearances for the sake of those spying on them.  All too quickly, the subservient behavior became second nature whenever they were in public together, and Willow found herself letting Spike take the lead, keeping her eyes averted and only speaking when spoken to.

Spike even teased her about it on the second evening.  They were sitting in their shared room of a relatively new hotel, awaiting the setting of the sun so they could get out and about.  Willow managed to accomplish quite a bit during daylight hours, but for certain things, Spike's expertise was needed.

He glanced at the redhead as she sat reading on the bed and resisted the urge to sigh.  Spike had hoped that they could have quickly gotten back to normal, whatever normal for them was.  The blonde vampire didn't expect to share her bed, or her body, for that matter, but he didn't think lively conversation or the odd hand of poker was too much to ask.  Apparently, though, it was.

"You don't have to be quite so meek and rabbit-like, Red," Spike reminded her, swallowing his frustration long enough to break the silence of the past couple of hours.  "When these morons report back to Angelus, he'll probably be surprised to hear how obedient you've suddenly become.  Remember that it's the spunky side of you that attracted him in the first place.  I think he'd be a little suspicious if you suddenly became the docile little pet, Pet."

Willow rolled her eyes.  <Make up your mind!>  One day she wasn't lady-like enough and too feisty, the next she was accused of being a wimp.  She couldn't win.

"Fine," she snapped.  "I'll try and be a bit perkier from now on.  Do you want a full-blown escape attempt or just useless struggles tinged with contempt?"

"Contempt will do," Spike informed her without emotion.  "It wouldn't make any bloody sense for you to run away since it's assumed that you want to see home-sweet-home again, no matter what's waiting for you on the other side."

Willow spared a quick glance at the vampire before turning back to her book.  "I can do contempt," she said coolly as she flipped through the pages.

"I don't doubt that for a second, Pet.  Not for a second," he sighed as he peeked out between the curtains at the slowly darkening sky.  The days may have been getting shorter as winter approached, but Spike was sure that this was one of the longest he'd ever suffered through.

***

It was two days after Spike's lecture on proper vampiric 'pet' etiquette, on what they hoped would be their last full day in Galway, and Willow had been busy most of the morning.  Taking some of their clothes and other things they didn't need with her, she'd gone out quite early to purchase two horses from a small, practically unknown stable outside of town.  She'd arranged for the horses to be boarded there, along with the saddles, riding gear, and some of their other personal belongings as well.  With the understanding that they'd be picking up the horses late the following night after a 'celebration' they were attending in town, Willow then rode to the small port town of Spiddal about 12 miles away.  There she found and bought passage under assumed names on a rickety freight ship that would be leaving in two days at dawn.  So far, things seemed to be going according to plan, but still they took as many precautions as they could to ensure that the vampires wouldn't become suspicious.  She only hoped their luck would hold out a little longer.  Tomorrow they'd take care of a few last minute odds and ends, and then that night, or early morning, once their chosen back street was empty of people, they would 'disappear'.

Later that afternoon, Willow was back in their room and feeling a little restless.  Pulling back the heavy curtain, she glanced outside long enough to see that it was still pouring down with rain and windy outside, just as it had been for the past few hours.  She'd just beaten the gale home when she came back from the stables, and then had been stuck inside for the rest of the day.  To pass the time, Willow scribbled a few thoughts in her journal before sliding it back into its hiding place under the mattress.  She glanced at the vampire sleeping on the small divan and ignored the slightly guilty thoughts she had about not offering him the bed for the afternoon.  <It's not like a little cramp in the neck is going to kill him or anything,> she rationalized to herself.

They'd been cooped up together for most of the afternoon because of the weather, and it hadn't gone particularly well. They'd both tried to make a little friendly conversation, but Willow just couldn't seem to find the connection that she'd once had with Spike.  Willow didn't know if it was permanent--the disappointment and sense of loss that she felt whenever she looked at him--but she just couldn't shake it, no matter how immature and melodramatic she knew it to be.  She felt a huge distance between them that she didn't quite know how to bridge, and she wasn't even sure if she wanted to anymore.  Because just maybe, in the long run, it would be easier this way.

Tired of her own depressing thoughts and needing a change of scenery as well as some food in her stomach, Willow scribbled a hasty note to Spike, telling him where she was going.  Leaving the vampire to his dreams, Willow grabbed her book and wandered down to the restaurant that was attached to the hotel.   Even though it was early evening and the sun had yet to set, the small room was already quite full with hungry patrons.  Luckily she still managed to find an empty table for two by the window, close to the crackling fire.  The dull roar created by both the hammering rain outside and the everyday conversation of the people around her was actually soothing to the redhead.  As tired as she was of the solitude, the uncomfortable silence that always seemed to fall between her and Spike were far worse, leaving her feeling weary to the bone. So forgetting the book that she'd brought with her, Willow just people watched and eavesdropped for a while.  Everywhere around her, real life was happening...and passing her by.  At the table beside her an older couple was having a disagreement about money matters, while another was filled to overflowing with a large family group.  The father was trying to convince one of his many children, a little girl of maybe four or five, to eat her vegetables while the mother was attempting, unsuccessfully, to soothe a fussy infant.  Other people in the restaurant cast a few irritated glances at the ruckus caused by the whining child and the crying babe, but not Willow.  Not only was she not annoyed by the disturbance, she was grateful for it.  Anything that kept her thoughts focused on something other than herself and the vampires in her life was welcome.

After a quick glance at the menu and placing her order with the harried serving girl, Willow's attention began to wander.  All too soon she found herself staring sightlessly into the fire.  Just as she was about to surrender to confounding thoughts of Angelus, someone nearby cleared his throat.  Willow quickly came out of her daze to find a rather large and somewhat disheveled-looking, red-haired man standing in front of her, hat in hand.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am, but I was wonderin' if I could join you for dinner."  He must have seen the question in her eyes because he immediately gestured around the bustling room and continued.  "Er, as you can see, ma'am, this is the only empty seat, and it's pourin' outside like the heavens themselves have opened up.  The next eatin' place is a good bit down the road, and seeing as you're alone and all..."

The young man caught Willow completely off guard.  Considering all the unpleasant surprises she'd had to endure lately, it was understandable that her expression held a definite tinge of annoyance.  The man must have noticed it as well because he quickly began to backpedal.

"I'm sorry.  It was wrong of me to put a lady in such an awkward position.  I'll leave you to your meal," he added very apologetically, then turned to leave.

All sorts of suspicious thoughts were flitting about in her mind. He could be a vampire, another one of Angelus's flunkies sent to spy on her, or worse.  But he didn't act like one, nor did he look like one, not too mention the small matter of it still being daylight outside.  In actuality, he looked genuinely sorry for bothering her.  Willow doubted that most vampires were capable of believable displays of guilt.  Besides, he sounded American.  He sounded like home.

"Wait," she called after him.  The gentleman hesitantly turned back around to face her.  "I was the one being rude.   It is raining quite hard and you do look very tired and hungry--"

"You're from America?" he interrupted.  In an instant, his slightly sheepish look had changed to one of enormous relief.

Willow nodded enthusiastically.  "I am, but I haven't been there for a long time...since I was very young."

He took a step closer.  "If you don't mind me askin', where in The States are you from?"

"Oh, well, um, my parents traveled a lot so I've lived in lots of places."  Although the lies came quite easily to her, she didn't like deceiving him, even if he was a complete stranger.  Plus he seemed so glad to meet a fellow American.  Maybe he was homesick too.

Hoping to veer the subject away from her geographical background, Willow gestured to the empty chair across from her.

"Have a seat, Mr...."

"Mason.  Jeremiah Mason," he informed her happily, sticking out his hand.  "But my friends call me Jed."

"Nice to meet you, Jed.  I'm Rose Smith," Willow told him as she found herself taking part in a spirited handshake.  She couldn't help smiling at his unbridled enthusiasm.  "Won't you join me for dinner, Jed?  This book really isn't very interesting, and I'd love to hear the news from back home."  Sure, it wouldn't exactly be 'news' to her, but it would still be fascinating.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am."  Jed straddled the chair and set his hat on the table.  "If you don't mind me askin', ma'am, are you traveling alone?  I see you're hitched..." he trailed off with a slight gesture at the ring on her finger.

"My husband's up in our room.  Nothing on the menu appealed to him."  Willow ended with a shrug, hoping to end that line of discussion.  Luckily it was at that moment that the waitress appeared.

As her dinner companion surveyed the modest menu and placed his order, Willow studied him.  There was no doubt about it; even with his stereotypical Irish looks--freckles, green eyes and orange-red hair--he stood out like a sore thumb.  His hair, though clean looking, was rather long and unkempt.  He had a full beard and mustache in what Willow guessed was an attempt to make the 20-something look older.

Then there were his clothes.

He hadn't bothered to take off his hip length coat when he sat down at the table, much to some of the other patrons' chagrin.  He wore the long canvas jacket over a clean, blue cotton shirt and a pair of dungarees.  Scuffed work boots could just be seen peeking out from underneath the table.  And there was no mistaking his dark brown wool hat for something a banker or a local tradesman might wear.  While it wasn't the typical 'John Wayne-style' ten-gallon hat, it was definitely more at home on the prairies than on the streets of Ireland.  The only things missing were the holster and guns.
 
When Jed was done ordering, Willow couldn't control her curiosity.  "Back home in..."

"Kansas City," he offered.

"Back home in Kansas City," Willow continued, "are you a cowboy?"

The man leaned back in his chair, causing the front legs to rise off the ground.  "A cowboy?" he repeated with amusement.

"Oh, don't you have those big cattle ranches in Kansas yet?"  Willow was trying to remember her early American history, but she wasn't exactly sure when cattle ranching and cowboys would actually become a way of life and in which territories.

"Well, first of all," he drawled, "most of your cowboys are Mexicans because most of the cattle is down south in Texas.  Now, the Shawnee Trail actually goes from Texas into Kansas City and on to St. Louis, but there ain't much of a business to be had in moving cattle along it.  I wish there were, because it sounds kinda nice to me.  Heck, I've even been considerin' moving further west and tryin' a hand at it myself, but it's a risky venture.  Besides, with all the trouble we're havin' now over all this slavery business, I don't think it's a good time to start any new ventures.  I wouldn't be surprised if we went to fightin' over it sumthin' fierce in the near future."

"Neither would I," Willow said somberly.  <At Fort Sumter, April 12, 1861, to be exact.  Less than a year.>

A waitress delivered their drinks, whiskey for Jed and wine for Willow, and he downed his in one swallow before continuing.

"For now, I'm workin' at my uncle's company, Wells Fargo, and takin' care of some of the special orders.  I must admit I've never had much of a hankerin' for the business, but at least I'm not stuck inside all day, dressed like some kind of dandy.  This way I get to travel a good bit."

"Special orders?"

He nodded.  "After Ireland, my last stop before headin' on home will be in England.  I've already been half around Europe, buyin' cigars in Germany, Spanish and French wine, chocolates, brandy, and such.  Now, I'm supposed to look into crystal and china and a few other things here in Ireland and England, and then I'll accompany the whole shipment back to America.  Shoppin' ain't much of a job for a man, but the pay's good.  Maybe someday I'll be able to afford that cattle ranch after all," he laughed.

"Well, obviously your uncle trusts you to make sure everything arrives safely...as well as your taste in dishes," Willow teased him lightly, getting a hearty guffaw in response.

"I reckon you're right there, ma'am."

"Well, ranching may not be much of a business now in your part of the country, Jed.  But it will be, especially further west.  You can bet your bottom dollar on that!"

The man brought the chair back down to rest on all four legs, then leaned across the table.

"You one of them fortunetellers or sumthin', ma'am?" he asked with a curious smile.

Willow forced herself not to giggle this time.  "Maybe I'm just an incredibly savvy young business woman?"  Before he could reply or ask her any personal questions, she pressed on.  "So, tell me what it's like in Kansas City.  I want to know everything that's going on."

"Everything?"

She nodded fervently, but added, "If you don't mind, that is."

"Now why would I mind gettin' a chance to spin a few good yarns over a nice dinner," he said lightly.  And apparently he didn't mind one little bit because soon Willow was hearing vivid descriptions of life in the American West, everything from the Indian disputes to the Saturday night socials he enjoyed taking his girlfriend Elizabeth to when he had the chance.  The man was a fount of information and Willow readily absorbed it all, mentally checking it against what she remembered from school and movies.  It was mind boggling to think that everything she'd learned in history class was taking place all over again.  Not to mention the fact that she could easily be an important part of it if she wanted to interfere.  But she didn't.  For her own sanity, she'd repeatedly told herself that everything happens for a reason.  It wasn't her job to try to change world history anymore than it was to change Angelus's or William's.

Time flew by as Willow listened to him for hours.  Although he had a rough edge to him, he was very intelligent, courteous and downright friendly.  He was so different from the men she'd been around for the past century or so, bearing little resemblance to any of the vampires, gamblers, or gypsies that she'd associated with up until now, that she found him positively charming in a fresh sort of way.  Despite his gruff appearance and western twang, he seemed more like a regular person than anyone she'd had a conversation with in decades.

Dessert had been finished long ago and Jed was just at the climax of a story about the only gunfight that he'd ever witnessed, when a shadow fell over the table.

"You've been gone a long time, Pet.  I was beginning to worry."

Willow glanced up to find a very unhappy Spike staring down at her.  She suddenly felt like a kid who'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, even though she felt that she'd done nothing wrong. Obviously, Spike felt differently.

"I guess we lost track of time.  Mr. Mason here was telling me all about what's changed out west in America since I left--everything from the abolitionist movement to the railroad and homesteading.   It's all so fascinating, and I just kinda lost track of time..." she said in an excited rush.

"Been there, done that, bought the bloody T-shirt and matching spurs, haven't I, Pet?" Spike reminded her in a curt tone.

Standing, Jed held out his hand to the blonde vampire.  "Good evening, Mr. Smith.  Your wife was kind enough to let me join her for dinner.  You see, it was the last seat, and with the rain and all I wasn't much lookin' forward to wandering around town tryin' to find another restaurant or one of those pubs."

Spike smirked, ignoring the offered hand to glance about the now half-empty room.

"Rose has always been too kind.  It's one of her greatest faults.  Isn't it, Rose?"

Willow sighed.  Spike seemed intent on ruining the nicest evening she'd had in a long time.  "Jed, you'll have to excuse my husband.  William seems to have gotten up on the wrong side of the couch this afternoon," she said half teasingly, hoping to pull even the hint of a smile from the grumpy demon.

"It's all right, ma'am," Jed said with a roguish smile all his own.  "I don't think I'd take too kindly to findin' my gal Eliza with a strange man either.  I think it's best I be headin' up to my room now anyways, but I thank you for sharin' your table and your delightful company."

Looking at the American for the first time, Spike took a step closer to him.  The fact that the man was a good half-foot taller didn't seem to intimidate Spike in the least.

"Why don't you do that, mate?  Why don't you mosey on up to your room, give your pistol a good ole self-cleaning, and the next time you find yourself feeling lonely, lasso yourself up a big ole cow?  I'm sure that'll make you feel right at home on the range."

Willow was taken aback by Spike's combative attitude, although from the understanding smile she noted on Jed's freckled face, it appeared as if he were taking all the sarcastic remarks in stride.  For the briefest of moments, Willow thought that Spike might actually be jealous.  There was no doubt that he was having fun belittling the American, but when Spike turned back to look at her, it wasn't anger that she saw simmering there.  It looked more like regret.  But for what?  Before she could puzzle that out, Jed's voice interrupted her train of thought.
 
"I'm makin' for London tomorrow, but if you and your husband are ever in Kansas City, you should look me up at the Wells Fargo office there so I can return your hospitality."

"We aren't planning on returning to America in the near future, Mr. Mason, but if we do I promise to stop by," Willow said honestly.  "And if you're not there, I'll expect you to be a cattleman instead."

Jed's freckled face broke into a smile.  "I'll see what I can do about that, ma'am.  Now, in return for your kindness and advice, at least allow me to pay for dinner," he insisted.

Willow shook her head.  "That's not necess--"

"If the man wants to pay for your dinner, Rose, let him," Spike butted in.  "After all, it's the least he can do, considering the position he's put you in."

Willow shot Spike a questioning glance, but his face gave no hints into his odd behavior.

"That would be very kind of you," Willow conceded.  "Thank you, Jed."

"Well then, good night Mrs. Smith...Mr. Smith," the red-headed American said with a tip of his hat and a lazy smile.  Jed then left them alone as he went to pay the serving girl before heading back upstairs to his room.

"Let's go," Spike said gruffly as soon as the cowboy wannabe was out of sight.

Willow stood and made a move to head for the same stairs that Mr. Mason had just climbed, but a hand on her elbow stopped her.

"We're going for a walk, Pet."

"Now?"

"Now."

"But it's raining and--"

"It's been barely drizzling for the past hour now and since you can't exactly catch your death of cold, what's the problem?"

Clenching her jaw to keep from saying something that she doubted she'd regret later but not wanting to cause a scene, Willow let Spike lead her through the restaurant and to the front door.  It was chilly, but not uncomfortably so.  The rain had stopped, at least momentarily, but from the lack of a visible moon or stars, Willow doubted the respite would last long.

With a stern look that told her to keep her mouth shut, Spike guided her out the door with a hand at her back.   Once outside, he offered her his arm.  His expression informed her that she had little choice, so she took it.

Willow's gaze automatically dropped to the ground, not only because of role she had to portray when with Spike in public, but because she was actually feeling a little nervous.  Something was wrong, and that was never good.  Slowly they made their way through the wet streets of Galway toward a more quiet part of town.   With every step they took, she could feel Spike growing more and more tense, and her dread grew proportionately.  Finally, she couldn't endure the silence any longer.

"Spike, are you okay?" she asked softly.

"If I were you, I'd be more worried about your own hide, *Rose*."

His words, spoken in a growl, crept over her skin, drawing goosebumps in their wake.  The tightness that had been forming in her belly turned to fear, even as she felt Spike's hand squeeze hers reassuringly.  Only then did it dawn on her what had happened, and she could now sense the vampires that were following some distance behind.  They had witnessed her long dinner with the stranger and would now expect Spike to punish her on Angelus's behalf.  Whether she had meant to or not, she'd broken the unspoken rules.

"What are you going to do?" she whispered as softly as she could.

"You didn't leave me much of a choice, Red," he replied in equally soft tones.  "As soon as we're somewhere less crowded, I'll have to--"

"I--I understand," Willow interrupted.  She might understand, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear about it

Willow gnawed on her bottom lip as they continued on in silence, trying to prepare herself for whatever Spike was going to do.  Before she was ready, she found herself being jerked into a dark alleyway and pushed against the brick wall.

Spike shook his head and clucked loudly, "Now, why'd you have to go and do that, Pet?"

Willow's eyes grew wide.  She knew she had to play along to keep up the charade, but she didn't want to.  This kind of play-acting had lost its shine a long time ago.

"Wh--what'd I do?"

"Throwing yourself at the first human to give you the time of day."

Indignation momentarily overshadowed her fright, and Willow stood up a little straighter, her hands on her hips.  "I did not 'throw myself' at anyone!  Anyway, it's none of your business."

With one finger, Spike pushed her back against the wall.  Then his hands went to her shoulders to keep her there.  "It *is* my bloody business, *Rose*," he growled, leaning even closer to stare down at her menacingly.  "Not only do people need to believe we're married, I'm supposed to look after you for Angelus.  I should kill that pillock of a cowjockey for even talking to you.  We both know that's what Angelus would probably do.  I don't need to attract that kind of attention this close to leaving though, do I?  I'm not willing to take that kind of chance so close to finally having this whole bloody trip over with!"  With every sentence, Spike's voice grew louder, angrier.

"But there really was nowhere else to sit, and all we did was talk," Willow tried to explain, even though she knew it was pointless.

Spike snickered, letting his demon face come forward.   "You're as naive as Angelus said.  Men *never* just want to talk to a beautiful woman.  Understand?  And he's an American from the 'Wild West', making him even worse."

Willow didn't hear a word Spike said after he changed.  All she could hear was the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears, her own heart beating rapidly.  All she could see were inhuman fangs, ridges and predatory yellow eyes.  Teeth tore at her flesh in a way that could never be mistaken for pleasure.  Threats hammered at her like fists, while fists pummeled her until the individual blows were no longer distinguishable.  It didn't matter that the hands holding her against the wall were actually gentle, or even that they occasionally squeezed her shoulders in a reassuring manner.  She recognized none of it.  All she could feel and see were memories--memories born anew to cry out with a piercing clarity that demanded attention.  She screwed her eyes tightly shut, but it did nothing to block the terrifying images in her head.

Unaware of Willow's plight, Spike's cruel lecture continued.  "Bet you thought he could help you somehow, right, Pet?  That you two could ride off into the sunset together?  Sorry to break it to you, but it's time to face the truth.  No one can help you.  What's done is done, and in about 24 hours, we'll be back we're we belong.  I'll be in the arms of Drusilla and you'll probably be having dinner with Angelus.  Or should I say Angelus will be having you for dinner..."

Disappointed that Willow didn't even bother to open her eyes long enough to roll them at his pun, Spike carried on.  "Point is, Pet, I won't allow you to ruin it for either of us!  Now, you have to be punished, but how..." he asked in a soft, almost seductive tone.

Spike's words were slowly beginning to break through Willow's waking nightmare, but she was unable to force her lids open until she felt his cool mouth leaving a wet trail down her neck.  Her panic was just about at its boiling point when at the last moment she managed to recollect that it was all an act.  Just an act.

Spike pulled away from Willow and in his trademark move, ran a finger along her collarbone, still oblivious to her very real alarm.

"I'd love nothing more than to make a late-night snack out of your tender little throat, but Angelus wouldn't like that much.  Or, I could take you back to the room and punish you in a different but much more fun way--fun for me at least-- but I think Angelus would take exception to that as well."  He let loose an exaggerated sigh.  "Bloody sire's always ruining my fun."

Then all laughter was gone from his face in an instant.  "Listen and listen closely, you bloody little chit!" he shouted.  "If you ever do anything this daft again, I won't care what Angelus says.  I'm here and he's not.  You're in my care and I won't let you muck this up for me again!  Got it, Princess?"

All Willow could offer in reply was a slight dip of her head.  It was enough for Spike, though, and he let her go.   Willow would have slid to the ground immediately if it weren't for the rough surface of the bricks catching onto the material of her dress, much like Velcro, helping her to stay on her feet.

Eyes averted from more than just fake obedience, Willow took her first step away from the wall and promptly stumbled to her knees.  It could have been the heel of her shoe catching in the cobblestones, the worn leather sole slipping on the wet path, or perhaps her shaking legs had just given out.  Willow was just about to falsely blame it on her shoes when Spike's clipped tones found her ear.

"Stand up."

Willow shook her head.  "I don't think I can."

"Stand up now!" he demanded again, stressing each word individually.

Scrambling around so she could use the wall to help push herself up, Willow slowly climbed to her feet.  Thankful that her legs seemed to be cooperating again, she kept her head down, not wanting to look at Spike.

"Now, let's get you out of the rain," he said much more civilly.  "We wouldn't want you to slip again and hurt yourself, now would we?"

Letting the vampire take her arm, Willow was guided back to the hotel in silence.  She didn't remember the walk back or even arriving at their destination.  Before she knew it, Spike was opening the door to their suite and gentling pushing her inside.  Willow stood just inside the door, feeling a little fuzzy and out of sorts.

"Good acting, Willow," Spike said cheerfully after he closed the door behind himself.  "Maybe a bit overly dramatic, but you did look scared to death of me.  And that falling bit was a good touch.  It should all translate well when Angelus hears of it."

At the sound of his voice, Willow looked around the room, suddenly realizing where they were.  "Oh yeah...acting...because it would be silly of me to actually be scared of a vampire, hovering over me, threatening my life, yelling and everything, wouldn't it?" she said meekly in a one-breath rush.

Spike, his head tilted to the side, studied her.  "You feeling okay, Red?"

Willow nodded.  "Oh, sure. I'm fine.  Just tired, you know?  I'm going to bed...if-if that's okay with you..."

Unfortunately, Spike was too hungry and hyper to notice the complete lack of sarcasm in her last statement.

"Sure, eat your heart out, Red," he said offhandedly as he opened the door and stepped out into the hall.  "That's what I intend to do."   The door was closed for only a second, just long enough for Willow to break out in goosebumps.  Then he stuck his head back in and added, "Although not *your* heart, of course."  With one quick wag of his brow and a mischievous grin, Spike was gone, leaving Willow alone.

Willow stood there, staring at the closed door for several minutes and wondering what the hell had happened to her out in that alleyway.  It felt so real at the time, even though she now realized that Spike hadn't actually hurt her in anyway, let alone ever hit her.  It was all in her imagination.  But at the time it had felt so real that Willow was now tempted to check herself for bruises and bites marks that she knew wouldn't be there.  Eventually chalking it up to stress, an overactive imagination, and a horribly confusing life, Willow made herself get ready for bed.  Soon after sinking into what she'd hoped would be the comfort of sleep, the nightmares began again, worse than ever.

***

A little more than a day later in the dark, deserted alleyway that they'd prepared ahead of time, Willow and Spike put their plan into action.   After mumbling through an impressive but random series of archaic words, Willow and Spike and some of their personal belongings vanished, leaving the less-than-astute vampires amazed by a display of thick, multi-colored smoke and blinding flashes of light while Willow and Spike escaped into the night.  After making their way as fast as they could to the stable on the outside of town, they mounted their waiting horses.  Soon they were racing westward to the port of Spiddal and their vessel of escape.  By the time the sun rose to warm the streets of Galway, Ireland, they were already underway to Calais, France.

Now, only 38 years and the matter of a little Gypsy curse stood between them and doing the spell for real.
 

~Chapter Thirty-eight~

It was very late, but Willow didn't want to go to bed.  No matter how exhausted she was, she fought drifting off to sleep as long as she could.  Tonight, just as she had every night for the last month or so, she tried anything she could think of to keep awake for even a few minutes more.  As soon as Spike had gone out to feed, Willow began to pad about the cold house, cleaning and tidying the same rooms that she'd cleaned and tidied only the night before, and the night before that.  She wrote in her journals, played the piano or guitar, read, did aerobics as best she could to polka music--all to avoid something that was inescapable.  Sleep, and the nightmares that came with it.

Unfortunately, sleep was no longer a necessary ingredient in order for her to suffer from the horrifying dream-like images.  Just as they had that first time in the alley in Galway only a few weeks earlier, Willow occasionally found herself having the strange hallucinations while she was wide awake.  These horrifying daydreams were equally as vivid as the sleep-induced ones, if not more so.

When Willow was in the middle of the dreams or hallucinations, they were incredibly real.  She could see the vampires before her, feel their touch, hear their rage.  Only later, when it was over and she'd had some time to come to her senses, could she actually decipher some of the fact from fiction, but each time that seemed to take a little longer.  At a loss for what else to do and figuring they'd stop on their own, Willow tried her best to keep busy and live on as little sleep as necessary--all without bothering Spike.

She hadn't told the vampire about her dreams.  How could she explain it to Spike when she didn't understand it herself?  Willow already felt foolish enough for not being able to put everything that had happened between them behind her, and she didn't want to further disappoint Spike with more obvious displays of her weakness and immaturity.  He'd asked about her nightmares once, much to her dismay, but she'd shrugged them both off.  She told herself she could manage just find on her own, thank you very much.  Or so she thought.

Eventually, Willow's fatigue overwhelmed her foreboding of what sleep would bring.  After dressing in her most comforting, albeit matronly, nightgown, she climbed wearily into her bed and pulled the covers over her head, trying to cocoon herself against the inevitable.

Sleep came quickly and the nightmares soon followed.

***

"Bloody hell...not again."

Spike stood outside his bedroom, banging his head in frustration against the solid teak door.  He'd heard the same sounds practically every night since they'd arrived in Vienna, but that didn't mean he'd grown used to it.  Spike wanted to waltz into his bedroom and slam the door closed, effectively dampening most of Willow's whimpers and cries.  That's what he'd done every other night, and that's exactly what he wanted to do again.  But he couldn't make himself turn the knob.  Instead he thumped his head against the door again and again, hoping that the pain would clear his mind enough for him to figure out what the hell to do.

The vampire didn't understand what was wrong with his red-headed companion.  He'd thought Willow's nightmares had stopped after he'd gotten her away from Angelus.  She'd seemed fine, although rather quiet, during their journey from Ireland to the Continent.

When they'd arrived in Europe, they'd headed directly for Austria, the only reason being that, as far as Spike knew, Angelus had never frequented the area.  The plan was for Willow to rejoin her old Rom clan in Romania the following spring when the weather grew warmer.  They hadn't planned much beyond that, knowing that there would be plenty of time for them to elaborate on the scheme later.  Besides, Willow never seemed to want to talk about it.

It wasn't until they were alone together in the small house just outside of Vienna that Spike began to suspect that there was really something wrong with Willow.  Not only had her terrifying dreams returned with a vengeance, but she'd begun to withdraw a little more each day until Spike rarely saw her at all.

To his credit, he'd asked her about the nightmares one night when he'd come home early from feeding, but she'd declined to talk about them at all.  Willow had insisted that everything was fine and that they were just dreams and no big deal.  Spike had started to argue the point, but Willow had stopped him with one of her 'resolve' faces.  Even with the dark circles around her eyes and her sallow complexion, Willow's stubborn expression had still been quite effective.  Or maybe he'd just been looking for an excuse.  Spike was a little afraid that she might leave all together if he pushed her too far.  So the subject had been dropped.  Unfortunately, it was now obvious to Spike that her dreams didn't want to cooperate.

With a snarl of annoyance, Spike finally took mercy on his forehead and let go of the handle.  He turned to lean against the door before fishing around in his pockets for his cigarettes.  Before he could find one, a chilling wail echoed down the hall.  In all the centuries he'd been walking the earth, causing and enjoying others' pain, he'd never heard anything quite like it before.

That mournful cry was the last straw.

"That's it!" he told the empty darkness that surrounded him.  "No more Mr. Bloody Nice Guy."

Spike stormed down the unlit hallway to Willow's room at the other end, determined to do whatever it would take to snap Willow out of it.  When he found her door unlocked, Spike was actually a little disappointed.  Not only was he surprised that she didn't try harder to bar him from that part of her life, but he'd also actually been looking forward to the satisfying sound of the door splintering under the force of his booted foot.  He hadn't kicked in enough doors lately, and he missed it.  Random acts of senseless violence were supposed to be one of the perks of being a vampire.  However, the need to keep a low profile throughout their expedition back in time had severely limited Spike's opportunities to exercise that little privilege.

Opening the door with an unsatisfying shove, Spike stalked into her room.  By that point, he could care less if he woke Willow or scared the living daylights out of her.  He was determined that whatever she was suffering from--be it nightmares, hallucinations brought on by a bit of undigested beef, or a trip down insanity row--it was going to stop now.

Spike loomed over Willow's flannel-clad figure as she tossed and turned, lost in the enormous bed.  The sheets and blankets had become knotted and twisted from her flailing movements until they resembled thick ropes holding her to the mattress.  He watched in dismay as she struggled against both the blankets and some invisible assailant.  Sometimes her head whipped violently back and forth on the feather pillow as she sobbed.  Yet other times she was so still that she appeared to be afraid to move, only to shatter the quiet of the room moments later with a scream.

Spike was crushed.  It was so much worse than he'd expected, and he kicked himself for letting her suffer like this night after night.

Thoughts of yelling or slapping some sense into her completely forgotten, Spike did the first thing that came to mind.  After freeing her from the linen bonds, he slipped carefully into the bed beside her.  He doubted his ability to comfort and cuddle her troubles away, but he had to try something.  He gently wrapped his arms about the trembling woman and pulled her to his chest.

"It's alright, Willow," he murmured in her hair.  "Shhh..."

He held her, trying to soothe away the bad dreams like he had in the past.  Over and over again he found himself promising that everything was going to be fine and that he'd never let Angelus hurt her again.  And not for the first time, Spike was struck by the familiarity of it all.  Not only had he been in the same situation with Willow when they were together years before, but it might as well have been Drusilla that he held in his arms.  Many nights he had comforted his Dark Goddess in a similar manner and for similar reasons.  But as much as he loved Drusilla and found some twisted enjoyment in taking care of her during her weaker moments, he didn't want that future for Willow.

Searching for clues into her subconscious's darker workings, Spike listened closely to the distraught redhead's mutterings as he cradled her. Not surprisingly, Angelus's name came up often, interspersed with pleas for mercy and words of denial.  Nothing new there.

Then he heard it.  Spike's name escaped Willow lips in an anguished cry that left him trembling. He had no idea that he was even a part of her nightmares, let alone an obvious cause of them.

When the guilt hit him, he didn't even flinch.  The familiar feeling had become just another consequence of their little trek together.

"Oh, bloody hell, Red...what did we do to you?" Spike whispered, running his fingers lightly through her tangled hair.

"No...Please..." Willow moaned, over and over again, her struggles increasing.

"Shhh, Red.  I'm here," he said without thinking.  Considering the latest addition to her dreams, Spike wasn't sure how reassuring his presence would be, but he was at a loss for what else to do.  He tightened his embrace on the quivering redhead.

Suddenly, Willow bolted upright in bed.  "No!  Don't touch me!" she screamed, clutching the knotted sheets to her.

Relieved that she was awake, Spike sat up and laid a cool hand on hers.

"Red, it's okay.  Angelus isn't here.  It's just a dream--"

At his touch, Willow wrenched her hand out from under his before scrambling to the foot of the bed.  She knelt there in the gloom, staring blindly at the blonde vampire through wild eyes.

"Please, Spike.  Don't..." she pleaded, but he didn't listen.  Hoping that his slow movements appeared compassionate instead of predatory, Spike edged closer to the trembling girl.

"You were crying out in your sleep, Willow.  I was just trying to--"

"No...don't, Spike.  Y-You can't...please..."

"Can't what, Red?  I don't want to hurt you."
At his words, Willow's face paled even more.  Shaking her head erratically, Willow backed up until she fell off the end of the mattress and onto the floor with a thud.  Spike vaulted from the bed to where the distressed redhead sat crumbled on the cold floor.

"Willow, it was just another one of your nightmares.  It's over now."

Tears began to fall from her terrified eyes, and Spike easily sense her labored breathing and rapid heart rate.  Thinking that all Willow needed was to look him in the eye and realize it had only been a dream, he moved towards her.  But the closer he drew to her, the more panicked she became until Willow had backed herself into the corner.

"Please, Spike...don't hurt me.  Please...I'll be good.  I p--promise," she hiccuped through gasps for breath.

Spike knelt before her. "Pet, I'm not going to hurt you," he said gently, reaching out to wipe her tears away, but Willow only cringed.  She wouldn't or couldn't even look at him.

"Please," she begged, keeping her eyes glued to the floor.  "I-I can't take this anymore.  You win.  Just get it over with now.  You win...you win..." she sobbed repeatedly, wrapping her knees about her chest and beginning to rock.

Spike was appalled at her display of abject terror.

"Look at me, Willow."

Willow shook her head and whimpered.  "No...it's a trick.  You're j--just trying to trick me again...so Angelus can p--punish me.  You win..."

Spike groaned and ran a hand through his short hair.  Why was she still afraid of him now that she was awake?

"Look at me, Willow," he repeated as gently as possible, but she ignored him.

Willow flinched as if she were struck when Spike took a firm hold of her chin and forced her gaze to meet his own.  He wasn't quite ready for what he saw in her glassy, blood-shot eyes, but at least it explained some things.  Although her eyes were open, she wasn't awake.  She was still trapped in some sort of nightmare.  Moreover, she was deathly afraid, not only of Angelus, but of him as well.  The moment the blonde vampire removed his hand from her chin, Willow's eyes fell obediently to the floor.

Just as he had taught her.

"You picked a bloody marvelous time to finally start listening to me, Red," he commented to himself sarcastically.

Spike sat back on his haunches and put his aching head in his hands.  <You really mucked things up this time, mate!>   Whether intentional or not, he now realized his rather rough treatment of her over the past few years may have had more of an effect on the redhead than he ever realized.  He'd hoped that Willow had come to an understanding on the way to Ireland about why he'd acted the way he had, toying with her emotions in order to manipulate Angelus's reactions.  Apparently she hadn't, at least not subconsciously.

"I had to do it, Red.  Can't you see that?" he mumbled dejectedly into his hands.  "It's all a just a grand game to Angelus."  Pulling his hands away, he spoke directly to Willow, desperate for her to understand.  "If I hadn't hurt you, tore you down a little, he wouldn't have been such the gentleman.  Far be it for the mighty Angelus to let someone else take part in his little reindeer games as far as you were concerned.  Can't you understand that, love?"

Willow continued staring at the floor, begging for mercy.

"Fine," he said wearily, getting to his feet, "if you want to play the good little pet, it's time to do a few tricks."

"Willow.  Willow, stand up!" he demanded.  When she obeyed as quickly as her shaking legs would allow, Spike was relieved but far from happy. He didn't want a slave.  He wanted his old Willow back, complete with all her annoying quirks and over-developed stubbornness.  He leaned in until he was close enough to feel the heat radiating from her, and her quick, shallow breaths brush across his skin.

"Look at me," he said in low, even tones, "and no matter what I say or do, do not look away."

"Please...no..."

"You will obey me, Willow!"  Spike commanded.  Willow's response was immediate, automatic even, as her terrified green eyes darted up to find Spike's.

"Now listen closely, Red.  I am not going to hurt you.  I am not going to let Angelus hurt you either."  Spike's voice was calm but compelling, willing her to see the truth in what he said.  "Angelus isn't here, and if I have anything to do with it, you'll never have to see him again.  Understand?"

If Willow heard, let alone comprehended, anything he'd said, she made no outward sign of it.  Although she maintained eye contact with the vampire, she was now hugging herself and rocking back and forth.

"Willow!" he tried again, a definite note of pleading in his own voice, but all he got out of the redhead for his efforts was a wince.

Ready to pick up the nearest breakable anything and hurl it across the room, Spike took to pacing instead.  Losing his temper would only make things worse, frightening her even more.  He stopped his troubled gait after a few minutes, ready to try a different strategy.

"Willow, this is just a dream," he said in the lightest tone he could manage.  "You're dreaming.  Time to wake up so I can beat you at cards!  And if you're really good, maybe we can play that game of strip poker you've been begging me for.  I'll even let you win!"

It didn't work.  Wherever she was, humor wasn't going to get her back. Disgusted, Spike stepped away from the redhead.  He'd seen this type of reaction before...in Angelus's victims...and in his own.  Even Drusilla had been known to cower before Angelus in just such a manner on occasion.  The difference was they had actually been tortured.  Willow hadn't--at least not physically.  But when Spike thought about it, between the three of them, they'd really put her through hell, and he'd been the one to lead the way.

Lost for what to try next, Spike looked about her dim quarters for the first time.  Even when lit by the soft glow of the dying fire, it was practically spartan by Victorian terms.  The huge sleigh bed took up most of the square room.  Next to it, there was a rather ornate writing desk in the corner, and from the stacks of papers scattered upon it, he guessed it was well used.  A plain wardrobe and a dresser occupied the far wall, and he noted her cross dangling from it's mirror.  In the corner by the heavily draped window sat a large, comfortable-looking chair, its seat and the floor around it covered in books.  Other than one exquisite oil painting of a waterfall which rested upon the fireplace mantel, the walls were utterly bare.  The worn wooden floor was also void of any comforting rugs or throws.  All in all, the place was rather depressing.  She'd obviously put no effort into make it homey.

<No wonder you have nightmares, Red,> he thought to himself as he glanced about her depressing boudoir.

And it was cold. Relieved to have something to take his mind off the redhead in the corner even for a moment, the vampire took a few minutes to breathe life into the fading fire using the bellows.  He also added a few new logs and some coal to ensure a healthy blaze.  Then, the vampire lit a few lamps, more for her sake than his should she wake up, before turning his attention back to his reluctant travelling companion.  Willow was still cowering against the wall, trying desperately to be invisible.

Spike sat on the hearth and felt around in his various pockets for one of his hand-rolled cigarettes.  Finding one, albeit slightly crumpled, he lit it from the fireplace, hoping it would help him to spark a new plan.  He was halfway through the irregular cigarette when he knew what he had to do--no, what his sire had to do.  After all, Angelus had played a large part in doing this to Willow.  And it appeared as if only Angelus could undo it.

Mumbling a prayer to every deity--both evil and not--that he could think of, Spike got to his feet.

"One day you'll laugh about this, Red," he vowed.  "I just hope I'm around to see it."

Spike flicked the remainder of his cigarette into the now-crackling flames, then moved to tower over Willow.  Without realizing it, he took a deep breath and held it for a moment.  Then he spoke, slowly, concentrating on each syllable to get the accent just right.

"Ah...there's me Rose."

***

The images were constantly shifting, changing, making it impossible for her to latch on to any sense of reality, let alone the right one.  One moment it was Spike before her, over her, laughing so loudly that it hurt her ears. He taunted her, warping her memories of their time together.

Often the figure before her was Angelus, more tempting than taunting.  Always saying it was time--that he'd come for her and now they could be together forever.  When she resisted, the pain was considerable.  Her desire to fight was slowly seeping away as it became harder and harder for her to remember why she would even want to fight Angelus, fight for her own life.

"Ah...there's me Rose."

At the sound of Angelus's voice, Willow stopped muttering to herself, stopped rocking, even stopped breathing momentarily.

"What's wrong, me little flower? Did ya miss me?"

Hoping to armor herself against Angelus's forthcoming verbal assault, Willow hugged herself more tightly. Her eyes remained tightly closed and she turned to face the wall.

"What happened ta yer manners, Rose?  Remember, I said I be expectin' ya ta behave like the lady that ya are!  That means ya speak when spoken ta, my love."

His voice was as smooth as silk, but it cut through her defenses like a dagger.  Willow muttered something incomprehensible, even to herself.

"Now Rose..." he admonished.  His subtle warning had the desired effect.

"I-I said, 'Yes, Angelus,'" Willow finally uttered in an audible voice.

"Ahhh...there's my Rose.  Much better. "

Willow shuddered at the sound of rustling cloth.  He was moving closer.  She didn't have to open her eyes to know that. She could feel him.

"I missed ya, me love," he whispered in her ear, his lips barely brushing her lobes as he spoke.

Trapped with the object of her worst nightmares, Willow could do nothing but keep her eyes screwed shut and try to wish him away.  Obviously, Angelus had a different idea of how they should spend their time.

"It's time, Rose.  I've waited long enough fer us ta be together, as have you."

Willow even surprised herself.  Turning her head, she pried her lids open long enough to look Angelus squarely in his dangerously dark eyes, before blurting out, "I don't want to be with you, Angelus."

She cringed after she spoke and lowered her gaze, waiting to be punished for daring to speak to him in such a way. Angelus only chuckled as he reached out to smooth the hair away from her face, almost lovingly tucking it behind her ears.

"Why are ya tryin' ta deny it now, my love?" he asked with infinite patience.  "Ya haven't put up much of a fight so far, have ya?  In fact, ya've done just the opposite, haven't ya?"

"No, I haven't..." Willow protested, but a familiar feeling of shame flowed through her as memories of some of her behavior with Angelus came to mind.
 
"The kiss, Rose.  You can't deny that.  You can't deny that ya wanted me...or how good it was.  You wanted me then, lass, and ya always have...always will."

Willow shook her head, hoping to scatter the memories and deny his words at the same time.  She didn't want to remember any of it.  The times when he was alive--the conversations, horseback rides, and the long meals.  Equally painful were the images of time spent with Angelus the vampire--the carriage ride, the poker game, the kiss.  She wanted them all to disappear because that was the only way she could deny that she still held any feelings for him.  But the memories held on tight, making it harder to fight.

"Don't try ta fight me...you know ya don't want ta.  You know this is what you've been waiting fer...what you've been wantin', all along.  Ta be with me forever."

"No," was all she could manage yet again, but at least she was saying something.  She wasn't ready to give in yet.

The hands that were so gently caressing her hair moments ago moved to pin her shoulders against the wall.  She pushed against Angelus's chest with her hands, but he moved even closer until he was keeping her imprisoned against the wall with his body.

Then, without warning, he bit her, sinking his fangs deeply in to the muscular part of her neck.  The intense, shooting pain was immediate, awakening the anger in the weary woman.  It gave her something to focus on other than her shame. Drawing from a well of strength replenished by the pain, she gritted her teeth and put everything she had into a knee lift to the vampire's groin.  Angelus sidestepped it just in time, but it threw him off balance.  Willow saw her chance.  Moving her forearms in a quick circle, she broke his hold on her and pushed him to the side with enough force to make Angelus step away.

Willow darted behind him and grabbed the first thing she saw--a small desk chair.  A heartbeat later, she swung it sharply against the vampire's head.  Angelus toppled to the ground to lie among the remnants of the splintered chair.  It had been a long time since Willow had really fought back, and it took a moment for what she'd done to sink in.  Unfortunately, that brief respite appeared to be all Angelus needed to regain his senses.

Before Willow could move away, Angelus grabbed her by the ankle.  With a harsh tug, he pulled her down until she fell half across his upper body.

"That wasn't very nice, Rose," Angelus laughed.  "On the other hand, it's always nice ta see ya get some of yer fight back.  Just means we'll be havin' all kinds of fun breakin' ya again.  I'm sure you'll tire of fightin' me long before I get tired of watchin' ya try."

"No! I won't let you do this to me," she cried out, struggling with all her might against the hands that held her. With a few well-placed kicks and elbow jabs that she learned from her Sensei, Willow was able to break free long enough to scramble a few feet away.  Angelus was after her in a flash, gripping her free-flowing hair and pulling her back to him.  They landed in a heap on the floor and wrestled for a few moments.

The entire time, Angelus was chuckling, thoroughly enjoying their little scrap and managing to remain calm through it all.  From the amount of bite marks, bruises, and scratches that Willow had inflicted upon him, it almost looked as if she were winning the battle.  In spite of this, Angelus remained flippant in his attitude, which only served to infuriate her more.  Eventually she began to tire, and Angelus easily regained his control over her. He flipped them over until he was upon his back, holding the redhead struggling above him to his chest.

"As much fun as this is, Rose, why bother?  Ya won't kill me, lass.  Ya love me.  We both know it."

"I don't..." Willow denied, tears of frustration trickling down her cheeks.

"Ahh...tears again.  Go ahead and cry, my love.  Cry now fer those friends of yours and yer family because soon they'll die at yer own hands.  Mind ya, there won't be tears then.   No, they'll be begging fer mercy, but the only thing that will be running down yer cheeks will be their blood."

"No," Willow repeated, more firmly this time. She tried to keep her eyes on his neck or his ears, anywhere but the vampire's gloating face, but it was useless.   Soon she was drowning in his eyes and the confusion that they brought her.

"Yes, my Rose.  Soon all yer pain will be over.  I was only goin' ta torture ya fer a couple of days more before I kill ya.  You'll drink from me then and we'll be together fer ever.  As much as I'd love ta carry yer pain out fer weeks or even months, I don't want ta damage yer mind too much...I want ya ta know who yer killin' and why..."

A horrified look crossed her face at the image of killing her own friends and family, snapping their necks, drinking their blood.  In her current, chaotic state, it hardly mattered that she couldn't actually be killed and therefore turned into a vampire.  Facts and truths were elusive things.

"Tell me ya love me.  Admit it ta yourself and then say the words," he offered enticingly.  "That's all I want ta hear, Rose.  Tell me ya love me, and the pain will all stop now.  I promise."

Willow was already feeling the strain in her neck from trying to hold her face up and away from Angelus's.  She closed her eyes.  It would be so easy to say the words, whether she meant them or not.  All she had to do was tell him she loved him and all the pain would be over.  Who was she to resist Angelus?  William hadn't all those years ago, and even Spike seemed to have given into him in the end.  And Drusilla?  Maybe if she gave in now, she wouldn't end up like Drusilla.

"Tell me ya love me, Rose, and I'll end this all now.  I can make the pain, the dreams, stop forever.  No more guilt, no more shame, no more suffering.  Just you and I together forever, my love."

The room was silent.  The only sound was that of Willow's own breathing.  It would be so easy.  Just four little words--I love you, Angelus--and she could finally rest.

Angelus kept up his gentle pressure, pushing her, luring her.  "Say it, Rose, and you can forget about everything...the past and the future.  We'll make a new one together."

Before she knew it, four little words came out in a whisper.

"What would Buffy do?"

The vampire growled.  "That's not what I want ta hear, my love. Give me yer answer, now!"

Willow opened her eyes to stare down at the man beneath her.  His face was tight, expectant, but it was Angelus's features, not the demon's.  She c