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Remember What is Past -- by Ruby

Rating: R

Description: There isn't one. This is just a teaser.

Disclaimer: Joss owns all.

"You've done very well," Drusilla beamed up at the demon who stood beside her.

"It wasn't too difficult, once I knew what you were looking for," came the smug reply.

"And you're sure it worked?"

"The seeds have been planted," he nodded. "It's only a matter of time before they take root."

"Good," the beautiful vampire smiled. "Now I can go to L.A. to be with my Angel, and Spike won't be sad. He won't even miss me once he's back in Sunnydale."

"You do realize this is out of our hands now, don't you?" the demon inquired. "Nothing can stop what we've set in motion."

Drusilla smiled, "I don't want anything to stop it. That's why I came to you, I knew you'd get it right. I wouldn't want Spike coming after me in L.A. now that my daddy has asked me to join him there. Now, we'll both have the people we want."

"He doesn't know he wants her," the demon said.

"Yet," she added. "He will, soon enough"

Spike stomped on the brakes and the car lurched to a halt. He climbed out and slammed the door shut. Leaning against it, he fished a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit it while the anger and despondency that had ridden with him for the past two hours rippled through him again.

He had wanted to slap the sweet smile off Dru's face as she had delightedly insisted he return to Sunnydale while she answered Angel's request for her to be with him in L.A. But he knew that if reasoning with her, cajoling her, offering her ridiculous promises hadn't swayed her resolve, a hard smack wouldn't have done so, either.

"Fuck the bitch," Spike snarled, tossing the cigarette into the gutter. His hard blue eyes followed the forms of a young couple walking past him.

"I want to hurt somebody," he muttered as he pushed himself away from the car and stalked after them.

Willow sat in the Bronze and shut her eyes against the headache that had begun pounding in her brain a good half hour ago. She loved watching Oz play. She loved just being here with him, but the loud voices and louder music were threatening to tear her head off her shoulders.

She looked across the floor to where Buffy was dancing with Xander. It was good to see the young blonde enjoying herself. Angel's departure had driven her into a deep depression that had lasted for months. At first, Willow had been angry that the vampire had refused all contact with the slayer, but now she thought perhaps he had been right, after all. A clean break, while agonizingly painful, was probably kinder in the long run, and after a few shaky steps, Buffy had begun to rebuild her life.

Willow shuddered as a note from the bass guitar reverberated through her body. She hauled herself out of the chair and made her way out the door. The cool night air felt good against her skin, and she walked down the street and stopped under a lamppost as several couples walked by on their way to the Bronze.

She leaned against the post and closed her eyes again as a soft breeze gently brushed coppery strands of hair from her forehead. Spike came around the corner, and his heart nearly jumped at the sight of the redhead bathed under the diffused light. His mind reeled, grasping for some shadowy thought and almost--almost--catching hold of it before it scampered away. His feet moved toward the young woman of their own accord and stopped a few inches away from her.

"Willow," his voice sounded thick in his ears.

She opened her eyes and straightened herself as he moved closer still. Bright green eyes looked at him in confusion, and his throat constricted at the idea she didn't know him.

"Willow," he repeated more softly.

A gentle smile of unadulterated relief moved across her lips.

"William," she breathed as they moved toward each other.

Spike pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground to find her mouth.

"William," she sighed once more as his lips moved against hers and took them in a long and hungry kiss.

Willow pushed away from Spike, and he released her as the same look of confusion clouded her eyes. She stepped back from him as he reached for her.

"Willow, it's all right," he spoke softly. "You know me."

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his, "No. I--I don't. I can't--"

He moved toward her and stopped as the slayer's voice called out Willow's name. The redhead looked down the street, and when she turned back to Spike, he had vanished into the darkness. She brought her palm to her forehead and brushed it across her brow.

"Willow," Buffy said as she trotted up to her. "Are you okay? Xander and I went back to the table, and you were gone."

"No, I'm--I'm fine."

Buffy looked in concern at Willow's stunned expression. "I just have a headache," she continued.

"You sure? You don't look well," the slayer put her hand on her friend's arm.

"No, really. I'm okay," she answered, her voice more firm and her dazed expression returning to normal. "I think I just need some sleep. I'm going back to the house. You guys stay here and have fun."

"I'll walk you," Buffy offered.

"I can manage," she refused with a smile. "Tell Oz, would you? I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," the slayer agreed reluctantly.

Spike followed from a distance as Willow walked across town to her house. Her father had taken a job in New York City six months ago, and her mother had happily gone along, leaving Willow behind to attend college. Weekly phone calls had drizzled to monthly phone calls, and then to holiday phone calls. Their ability to leave their daughter behind had come as no surprise to the redhead, but the property deed and explanation handed to her by the realtors had.

It had taken her weeks to untangle the paper trail that ended in Los Angeles. The house had been Angel's parting gift to the young woman who had saved him from hell. He hadn't meant for her to know, and she'd never tell him she'd found out, but she silently thanked him every morning when she awoke in her bed.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, unaware of the silent guardian who had followed her home. Spike stood across the street as the lights inside came on. Could it be she didn't know him, he wondered. He'd felt the same buzz of confusion when he'd first stumbled onto her on the sidewalk, but it had quickly been replaced by an odd sense of calm. He knew she'd felt it, too, when he'd taken her in his arms, but for her, it had been fleeting, replaced by--fear? Was she afraid of him? Why? She'd known him, had whispered his name. Of what what she afraid?

Willow pulled on the nightshirt and tumbled into bed, staring at the familiar pattern the light on the bedside table cast against the ceiling as her mind raced.

He'd been there, hadn't he? Or had she imagined it? The feel of his arms around her, his lips against hers. Had any of it been real?

"What's happening to me?" she whispered to herself as she turned on her side to stare at the carpeted floor.

From the moment she'd seen him--if she'd really seen him at all--something had changed inside her, shifted somehow. She felt as though she were looking into a mirror on which the silver had faded. Reality blurred with the strange sensations that surged through her, and nothing was clear.

Her eyes traveled over her comfortingly familiar surroundings. Her brush on the bureau. Her chair in the corner. Her clock on the nightstand. His eyes on her own. His voice in her ears. His name on her lips. She reached over and turned off the lamp, then rolled over to face the shaded window.

"William," she murmured softly as she drifted into slumber.

Spike continued to gaze at the house until the last light in the second story window went out. He turned and walked away, the taste of Willow's mouth still lingering promisingly on his lips.

Willow had begged off from Buffy's invitation to have dinner with her and her mom. Nearly a week had passed since--whatever it was--had occurred outside the Bronze, but time had not brought the clarity of thought Willow had hoped for, and putting on the pretense of being good company was more than she could handle.

"What I really want is to be with him," the thought bounded through her brain like a puppy let loose from its tether.

She left the coffee shop and stepped out into the fading light of the sun. The past nights' sleep had not been restful, and she had awakened each morning to the feeling she'd spent the night dreaming. She could sense the edges of images that had crowded her subconscious thoughts while she slept, but no true recollection remained.

Her small circle of friends had grown increasingly concerned as they watched Willow withdraw behind a wall of silence. She seemed not to notice she was slowly shutting them out, and beyond that, she seemed not to care. Her former exuberance had been replaced by ghostly shadows that passed across her face, and no amount of prodding could convince her to discuss whatever it was that was steadily consuming her.

Buffy had gone so far as to seek advice from Giles, but no prophecy had been passed down, no strange and menacing demon had appeared, and he passed it off as a phase.

Even the infinitely patient Oz was beginning to show signs of wearying of Willow's reticence. When he touched her, he got no reaction. When he held her, her arms no longer encircled him. When he kissed her, she drew away. She wasn't ill. She had suffered no recent trauma. There was nothing external to explain away her subtle rejections, and she insisted there was nothing wrong with her. When he had suggested perhaps there was something wrong with _them_, she had given him a hollow stare. Before, words had been unnecessary; now they were futile. And so he resolved to stop fighting her persistent intent to drift away.

Spike had followed her every night since their kiss on the sidewalk. Reluctant to frighten her, he opted instead to stay close and wait. The certain knowledge that she needed him as much as he needed her kept him close, knowing she eventually would find her way to him. But the waiting required every ounce of his determination. He wanted so much to feel her tiny body close to his once again.

He fed quickly and early, now, foregoing the pleasures of the hunt to quickly steal the blood necessary for his survival, and then finding his way to the redhead to spend the night shadowing her every movement. He would follow her home, mentally tucking her into bed, before returning to his own cold bed in a small basement apartment.

Willow had fallen asleep on the sofa, seeking the peaceful oblivion of sleep that in the past had refreshed her body and restored her mind. Her nights were filled with hazy images and jumbled sensations, like riding on a merry-go-round that was spinning at a furious pace. A car horn horn blaring as it passed along the street outside awoke her with a start, and she rose sluggishly and climbed the stairs to shower and change.

She checked herself in the mirror and ran a brush through her hair as the phone rang from across the room. Green eyes sparkled back at her as she gazed into the mirror, and she put down the brush and left the room, mindless of the jangling telephone.

She stopped along the sidewalk and peered into the shop window at the emerald brooch resting in the display of estate jewelry. Strong arms encircled her waist, and she leaned back against him, never turning to see who had joined her at the window.

"William," she murmured.

Spike turned her to him, and their eyes met and held. Her small hand reached up to trace the outline of his lips with a delicate finger. He covered her hand with his and kissed her palm before lowering his mouth to hers. Willow's arms moved around his neck as her eyes closed and her lips parted, and she fell into the sweet intermingling of their tongues. He deepened the kiss, pulling her ever closer, assimilating everything she was into everything he was. He felt himself being inexorably pulled down, drowning in her very essence, and it was the most pleasing oblivion he had ever known.

Spike pulled away, at last, and turned her, tucking her securely in one firm arm and guiding her away from the shop window.

Willow opened the door and stepped through. She turned and reached for Spike's hands, taking them into hers.

"Come in," she whispered as she drew him inside.

He closed the door behind him and pulled her into his firm embrace. When she stepped back, her arms still clutching his shoulders, the look of dazed confusion had returned to her eyes. He cupped her chin in a gentle hand and forced her eyes to his.

"Don't you know me, pet?" he asked softly.

"Spike?" the question was formed on the merest of breaths.

Willow shook her head, as if that were wrong, as the thoughts in her mind tumbled over one another as they stumbled toward sense.

"William," she said more decidedly.

He smiled gently as his gaze traveled over her beautiful features.

"Yes, luv. I'm here," he promised and gathered her back to him.

"Stay with me," she implored.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her open bedroom door and stood her beside the bed as his fingers slowly unfastened the buttons down the front of her shirt. She trembled as his eyes stared into hers. Willow didn't understand the sense of profound loss that had tread heavily behind her over the past days. She only knew that she needed this man. She longed to be with him, to be near him, to be one with him.

Spike's mouth captured her lips in answering longing as he slipped the shirt off her shoulders. His hands moved around her to unclasp her bra. Willow toed off her shoes as Spike unfastened her pants and drew them down, along with her panties. He moved her down onto the bed, and she watched in open admiration as he undressed. He moved over her, placing his hands on either side of her, and lowered himself to drink from the intoxicating sweetness of the breath between her lips. With one thumb, he traced the swell of her breast and brought his lips to the perfect, soft bud of her nipple.

A faint sigh of long pent-up desire broke from Willow's mouth as Spike's cold, hard body pressed down on hers. She opened her legs to him and cupped the firm, rounded flesh of his ass, and he slid his hard shaft into her warm channel. She pulled him down, holding his body along the length of hers, and they lay still, perfectly joined together.

Unspoken understanding passed between them as steely blue eyes fixed on radiant green ones. He began a rhythm inside her as familiar as it was new. The days of restless seeking, the nights of urgent emptiness, the constant, unshakable, undeniable craving were flung away and scattered amongst the stars by their consummation that brought his name up from the depths of Willow's heart and tumbling out over her lips.

"William," she breathed as their bodies claimed one another's in a union that transcended their physical coupling and connected them on a far more intimate plane.

"I'm with you, baby," he whispered between the soft kisses he placed on her lips.

He continued to drive gently, relentlessly inside her, leading her from her first orgasm directly into the second. Her soft, wet folds sheathed him, grasped at him, as she bathed his hard shaft with their mingled juices. He groaned softly and moved his arm around her shoulders, pulling her up against him as he soothed her throbbing channel with his cold seed.

Spike pulled her against his side as he moved off her and tangled his leg through hers. She melted into him, one hand laying softly upon his chest. He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply.

As he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, he saw the look of confusion had gone, replaced by a calm understanding that here was where she belonged. Experience that spanned centuries had brought him to the knowledge of what this was between them, and he realized there would be countless questions to answer before Willow came to the same depth of understanding. But for now, her eyes told him, this was enough. To be held by him, to feel his presence near her, his body against hers, was answer enough for tonight.

He rolled slightly into her and enveloped her in his arms, and together they found the peace of sleep that had evaded each of them over the past week.

Willow had spent the day in contented sleep and awoke with her hand splayed across the vacant pillow beside her. She sat up and looked around the room. She could still feel Spike's body against hers and taste his kisses on her lips.

The fog that had shrouded her mind for days had dissipated, and she knew without a doubt that he had been here with her. The solitude of the bedroom closed in on her. He had left her, again. She drew her knees up and leaned her forehead against them as tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.

The bedroom door opened, and Spike froze at the sight of the redhead weeping on the bed. He moved to her and sat down beside her, pulling her into his arms and rocking her gently. Willow's arms went around him, and she clung to him fiercely.

"I thought you had left me," she murmured through her tears.

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't want to wake you. I shouldn't have left you alone," he apologized softly.

She looked up at him and smiled as he took her face in his hands and caressed her tears away with his thumbs. He brought her mouth to his, and his tongue drifted between her lips. Willow sat perfectly motionless, absorbed by the feeling of his mouth exploring hers. As he drew away, she looked up into his eyes.

"What is this, Spike?" she asked.

He nodded at her use of that name as he stroked her hair. "Does it frighten you, Willow? Are you afraid of me?"

"No," she answered. "I just don't understand. What's happening to me?"

He smiled at her, "Let's get you into the shower and then get some food into you."

"I don't--"

He placed his fingers against her lips, "You'll feel better. We have all night to talk."

He waited until she had finished eating, refusing to be pulled in by her questions, and then handed her another cup of coffee and led her into the living room. She put the mug down on the coffee table, and

Spike sat down on the sofa and drew her down beside him. "Now?" she asked.

He laughed softly and took her hand, "Now."

"Tell me what's happening. You know, don't you?"

"I'm not sure I can tell you, not so you'd understand," he answered.

"Well, try," she asked.

"Willow, you have to find this for yourself. You have to work out what this is."

"But I don't know how to do that," she told him. "Nothing makes sense. Please, help me."

"Look at me, luv," he said, squeezing her hand. "Who am I?"

Her response was immediate, "Spike."

He looked into her eyes and silently waited, clenching her hand in both of his. "William," she said uncertainly. "I know you, don't I?"

"Yes," he nodded, urging her to keep going.

"Before--here. Before Sunnydale," she continued as her brow furrowed.

"But I haven't--we've never--"

Spike raised a hand to her cheek and brought her eyes back to his. "Willow, be still," he murmured

He leaned back against the sofa and pulled her against him, crossing his arms over her waist and taking her hands.

"Just be still for a moment," he said. "You're trying too hard."

He nestled his cheek against her hair and held her as she began to relax. The disjointed images that had assaulted her dreams began to coalesce in her mind.

"It was a long time ago," she spoke. "How can that be?"

"Shhhh," he whispered against her ear. "Close your eyes and relax."

She did as he asked, and after several minutes of silence, he felt her tense in his arms as a picture flashed through her mind. She saw herself standing in a strange room. Flames flickered from the light fixtures that hung from the walls, and the room was done up in rich brocades and heavy velvets.

The picture took on motion, and Willow thought she could hear the swish of the woman's long skirt as she turned to greet the man who entered the room. Willow recognized the image of Spike. But the woman wasn't greeting him; they were fighting. She spoke the man's name--William. The man strode across the room and grabbed her by the arms.

Spike felt the shudder that ran through Willow's body as the scene played out in her mind. Her eyes flew open, flashing with rage, and she pushed herself out of his arms and jumped up off the sofa.

"You bastard!" she hissed, backing away from him.

"Willow," he reached out for her.

"I was your whore!" she shouted in humiliation and anger.

Spike stood as she turned and fled up the stairs. "Willow, wait!" he called after her.

He took the steps three at a time and reached the landing as she slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it.

"Willow, open the door."

His request was met by utter silence. "Damn it! Open the door, or I'll break it down!" he shouted.

He heard the lock click back, but the door remained shut. He opened it and looked at Willow as she stood with her back to the window on the other side of the room.

"Stay away from me," she demanded.

"No," he refused. "Finish the memory."

"I don't want to finish it!" she snarled. "I know what you did! You fucked me. You made sure everyone knew it, and then you left!"

"That isn't the way it was!" he insisted. "Willow, think!"

"Why didn't you just turn me? You didn't want me enough. You could have killed me instead of leaving me to face that."

"Bloody hell, listen to me! I can't do this for you," he pleaded as he stepped closer to her. "Please, Willow, think. Think back. Remember."

"I don't want to remember," she whimpered as she put her hands over her face and sunk down onto the floor. "I don't understand."

Spike knelt down beside her and pulled her hands away from her face, clasping them firmly in his.

"You have to, luv. You can't leave it there. I can explain everything, but you have to see the rest of it first. Please," he coaxed softly.

She closed her eyes, and her mind slammed back to that distant image. The scene shifted and changed to a street outside a large house where a horse and carriage were waiting. William was holding the woman close to him, rocking her as she wept against him.

"I'll come back," she heard him speak in the same, familiar voice as Spike's. "I promise, luv. It won't be long. I'll come back for you."

The woman looked up at him and smiled weakly. He placed a soft kiss on her lips before climbing into the carriage. The woman watched, squinting against the sun, as the carriage took him away from her.

"The sun," Willow whispered and opened her eyes. Spike was watching her closely.

"You weren't--" she looked over at him. "You hadn't been turned."

He shook his head, "No. I was coming back for you. I never intended to leave you there."

"But you couldn't," she said. "How long after you left did you meet Angelus and--and Drusilla?"

"Quite a while, really. It took a long time to find work, and most that I did find didn't last long. After I was turned, there was Drusilla. She was all I could think about, then."

"Did she know about us?" Willow asked.

"I never knew that she did, but I think she must have. Willow, that memory was as lost to me as it was to you, until a few days ago," he explained.

"Do you think that was her doing? Could she have taken it from you?"

"If I had told her about you, and I'm sure that I did, it would have suited her purposes to have me 'forget' it," he answered.

"We can't be together," she told him. "It isn't possible, not now."

"Baby, we already are. I made a promise to you. I'll admit it took me longer than I thought it would to keep it, but I did," he grinned.

She smiled and put her hand on his arm, "I want you so much. I know I shouldn't, but I do."

He leaned forward and kissed her, then pulled her up onto her feet. "Spike, I still don't understand any of this. How could I have been there if I'm here with you now?"

"I think you've had enough for one day," he told her. "Besides, I don't understand it myself."

"Maybe Giles could--"

"Enough," he repeated. "I just want you near me for now."

"I want that, too, William," she agreed as he drew her to him and brought his lips to hers.

Giles and Buffy kept wary eyes on Spike as Willow tried to explain the situation they had found themselves in.

"How can you be sure these memories are real?" Giles asked when she had finished.

"What do you mean?"

"They may not be actual memories at all," he answered. "You think Drusilla revealed them to you. Why would she do that?"

Willow looked uneasily at Spike. "Is 'why' important?" she asked the watcher.

"It could be," he nodded.

"I'd--I'd rather not say."

"All right, we'll let it go for the time being," he agreed. "You say Drusilla opened your minds to these long forgotten memories, but how do you know that's what they are? She may have planted them in your minds."

"That doesn't make sense," Willow argued. "What reason would she have for making us believe we'd been together?"

He looked at her pointedly, "That's hard to say, since you won't tell me her motivation for revealing them to you, but she could just have easily fabricated these dreams and images. They may never have existed at all before she created them."

"Or before _they_ created them," Buffy added, giving Spike a hard stare.

"Meaning what?" the vampire asked.

"Gee, I don't know. You two have been joined at the pelvis for decades. What could possibly make me think you might be up to something?" she asked.

"I have no reason to hurt Willow," he snapped.

"You dragged her off once before, remember?" she scowled.

"He hasn't dragged me anywhere this time, Buffy," Willow told her.

"He hasn't had to, has he?" she asked. "If this is a scheme to get to you, it's working perfectly."

"It isn't like that," the redhead insisted. "Drusilla isn't even--"

"Isn't even what?" Giles prompted.

Willow averted her eyes from his questioning gaze, "Nothing. It doesn't matter. I think coming here was a bad idea."

"No, it wasn't," the watcher's voice softened. "You know we'll help you, any way we can."

"Including staking him," Buffy said.

"Buffy, please," her friend pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Willow. I'm not trying to hurt you, but you can't blame me for not trusting him."

"I don't," she replied. "Just please give him a chance, or if you can't, leave him alone."

"I'll settle for the latter, for now," Buffy answered. "But if he does anything to hurt you, he'll regret it."

"William?" The name still sounded strange to the vampire, and it took him a moment to realize she was addressing him.

"Yes, luv."

"Do you think they could be right, about Drusilla, I mean? Maybe these memories aren't really memories," Willow suggested.

"Who is it you don't trust, Drusilla or me?" he asked.

"The only past I know for sure is the one here," she reasoned. "We've been enemies up until this started."

"Willow, I was drawn to you even before this happened," he told her. "There was something familiar about you even then. When I took you and your friend, I could easily have killed you, but I didn't."

"Because you needed a love spell."

He shook his head, "It was more than that. There was something about you that I knew, something old, something comfortable. I didn't know then what it was, but I sensed it, on some level."

"Maybe you only think you did, looking back on it from here. Maybe Drusilla is making you remember it that way," she said.

"Then she's been damned busy screwing with a lot of memories," he argued.

"Does she know what happened? Did you tell her you kidnapped me?"

"Yes, but--"

"Then we can't be sure she hasn't altered that memory," she insisted.

"We can't be sure of anything, except for what we feel now, and I feel like I've known you forever. I feel like you're my past, luv. All these doubts are that bloody watcher's fault, throwing all these question in your path," he grumbled.

"But they're good questions," she answered. "Maybe we should let him help us find the answers."

"I don't see how you're going to do that without telling the slayer that Dru is with Angel, and I got the impression you're not keen for her to know."

"It would hurt her too much," she admitted. "I wonder why he asked her to go to L.A."

Spike shrugged, "She just said he wanted her there with him."

"That's where we should start, then. We need to talk to him and find out why," she decided.

"Sorry, pet. A reunion with that wanker is not going to happen," he objected.

"Then I'll call him," she said.

"Fine," Spike snapped. "While you're having a cozy chat, I'll just go out and drain someone. We'll both feel better."

"William, please," she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I'm not William," he snarled. "I haven't been William since my heart stopped pounding and I sprouted fangs." Willow drew her hand away and stepped back from him.

"Willow," he moaned and reached out to pull her back. "Why does this have to be so bloody hard?"

"I don't know," she answered, leaning against him. "Part of me wants to forget all the questions and just be with you, but I have to know whether it's the past that makes me want you like this, or whether I'm living a lie."

"If it is a lie, I'm not sure I want to know," he confessed. "Willow, I like the idea that there was a you in my life before Drusilla took the only past that could ever possibly have mattered to me."

"But if there wasn't one--"

"There was," he stated firmly. "I know there was. I have memories about you that you haven't remembered, yet."

She pulled back and looked up at him, "What memories?"

"I've had other dreams, pet," he explained. "Other memories. One of the first was of your employer."

"Employer? Was I a servant?"

"A governess. I don't remember the children, but their mother was tall, thin, dark haired. We'd gone walking one night, making plans. We got back late, and she was so angry, she fired you on the spot."

"No, she didn't. She decided I--" Willow's hand flew to her mouth. Spike removed her hand and replaced it with his lips.

"You do remember," he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I don't know what I remember," she murmured miserably against his chest. "William--Spike--I need to call Angel."

"All right," he yielded. "Make your phone call."

"Really? You're okay with it?"

"No," he answered. "But you always did have an insatiable curiosity, amongst other things. I remember that, too. Call him, and then I'll spend the rest of the night making you forget everything he says, no matter what he tells you."

"He had no idea Drusilla was going to L.A. to be with him," Willow told Spike after her phone call to Angel. "He never asked her to join him there."

"I'm not surprised, really. Of all her delusions, Angel has always been her favorite," he said. "How are they getting on?"

"They aren't," she answered. "She's dead, Spike. She was attacked by a groups of vampires the same night she arrived there. They staked her."

"Well, that proves she didn't conjure up these memories," he replied callously. "Unless she's figured out how to do that from the grave."

Willow looked at him in astonishment, "Aren't you upset that she's gone?"

He put his hands on her shoulders and began kneading them gently, "No, I'm not. She was a past I never asked for, Willow. The past I wanted was ripped away from me--by her. Before, I would have been destroyed by the fact she's gone. Now, I just don't care. I have you back with me. That's all that matters."

She absorbed his declaration in silence for a moment before speaking. "She must have been killed before I had that memory."

"Maybe it was her death that unlocked it, pet. When she died, the memories were free to resurface," he suggested.

"Then we really were together," she stated.

"Just as I've said all along," he nodded.

"What happens now?" she asked softly, lowering herself down onto the sofa. "How can we be together after everything that's happened?"

"How can we not be? Willow, you belong with me. I wasn't the only one who made promises," he told her. "You promised yourself to me all those years ago. We were supposed to have a lifetime together."

"But you were mortal then," she reminded him. "You were a different person."

"Look at me," he demanded as he dropped to his knees in front of her and lifted her chin in his hand. "I'm not so different, pet, not really. I love you just as deeply now as I did then, and I know you love me, too. We need to be together."

"But you're a vampire, and I'm not that person in those memories," she argued.

"I can't be what William was," he agreed. "I can't revert to that mortal existence. But does it really matter? You love me now, Willow. The way I am now. And I don't want you to be anyone other than who you are. I'm not in love with a memory. You _are_ the memory. I'm in love with you."

"This is all so much to take in," she confessed. "I need time to think, Spike."

"All right, luv," he nodded and stood up. "I have to go out--"

"Not for long," she pleaded. "Please, Spike. I need time to think things through, but I need you to be with me."

He smiled and pulled her up into his arms to kiss her, "I'll be back in a couple of hours. I promise."

"You've done very well," Spike congratulated the demon. "Dru is gone, and I have my Willow back."

"If Drusilla finds out, if she comes back here--" the demon spoke.

"She's ashes, my friend. I've had her staked," Spike grinned.

The demon looked soberly at him, "That shuts her up, but if your redhead goes to the slayer with this--"

"I know. I hadn't figured on Willow finding out about Dru so soon. I'll have to move more quickly than I'd planned, which means I'll have her beside me sooner," Spike smiled.

"You're sure Drusilla didn't talk to Angel?"

Spike shook his head, "If she'd said anything, he would have warned Willow."

The demon grinned in satisfaction, "Very well. If you should need me, you know where I am."

Spike turned from him and made his way across the park as his mind drifted back in time. He had loved Willow from the moment he first saw her. He had loved her even after he'd been turned. Spike remembered Angelus' scorn and Drusilla's fury when they discovered he had gone to Willow and tried to turn her, but their displeasure had been nothing compared to his when he learned he had lost her.

Willow had begged for one more day in her mortal world. One more day to say goodbye to the people she cared for. One more day to experience the warmth of the sun before he brought her into his world of darkness. And because he had loved her, because he believed he had frightened her into inaction, he had allowed her request. He had misjudged her, though, and she had used that extra day to put as much distance between herself and him as she could. She had fled, and no amount of searching had brought her back to him.

His obsession with Drusilla had anesthetized the pain for so long, he had not even recognized Willow when he first met her in Sunnydale. It wasn't until after that night in the factory, when he had been driving back to Dru, that he realized why the scent of the little redhead had been so alluring. And it was during that drive that he had formulated his plans and resolved to wait until the time was right before putting them into action.

That time had come sooner than he had even dared to hope--when Angel left Sunnydale. Spike had purposely told Dru about Angel's move to L.A. He had purposely told her about his attraction to Willow. He knew instinctively what his soulless love's reaction would be, and he had hit it, dead on.

It had taken careful manipulation to get Dru to summon this particular demon and to ask him to weave her dream-spell. Dru was so eager to get to her sire, she had not stopped to question the demon's loyalties. She had believed, without hesitation, that the demon was reawakening Willow's old memories. What she had not realized was that the demon had altered them exactly as Spike had directed him.

The demon had promised Spike that Willow would remember William before he was turned, but she would remember nothing beyond that. She would never realize the fear and panic that had driven her to run from Spike all those years ago.

The entire scheme had worked brilliantly. Willow now trusted the vampire as wholly as she had once trusted William. "Now," Spike thought to himself as he neared Willow's house, "I'll have her beside me. No Dru. No Angelus. Just us."

The demon's words of caution echoed in Spike's mind. He would have to turn her quickly, before the slayer or her watcher uncovered what he was up to. After that was accomplished, he could take all the time necessary to shape Willow into the childe he had, for so long, desired her to become. After more than a century of waiting, he would have his Willow, at last.

When he returned to the house, Spike found Willow curled up on the sofa, wearing only a nightshirt. She smiled at him as he sat down next to her and pulled her onto his lap, crooking an arm around her waist and resting his hand on her flat stomach.

He kissed her, curling his hand through her silky tresses and letting his tongue rove her mouth lazily. When he pulled away, she was breathless, her eyes glazed with desire.

"I want you, Willow," he said softly. "You're all I've ever wanted."

His hand slid under the hem of her nightshirt and rested between the warmth of her soft thighs. She leaned her head against his shoulder as his cold fingers began to part the folds hidden between her legs. He smiled when she panted and wriggled on his lap.

"I want you with me," he continued.

"I'll always be with you," she whispered.

"Will you?" he asked. "Always?"

"For as long as you want me here," she answered.

"I want you for eternity," he told her. "I want you to be with me, pet."

She pulled away a little, her eyes searching his, "You're not saying--"

"I am," he nodded. "Imagine it, luv, long days and endless nights, just the two of us."

"I don't think--" she faltered as her mind stumbled to grasp what he was asking of her. "I don't think I could--"

"You could," he told her. "We could. Together, we could do anything."

"Spike, I don't think I could live like you do. I couldn't do what you do to people."

"Of course you could, and I could teach you, help you," he said.

She shook her head slightly, "No, I--"

"Willow, I lost you once before. I won't lose you again, not ever," he vowed, his voice low and firm.

He saw the look of fear that flashed through her eyes, and the demon inside him tensed imperceptibly, ready to react.

"I love you, Spike. I really do, but we can be together like this, can't we?" she asked, swallowing at the panic that was rapidly rising inside her.

"For how long, Willow? Until I drink from the wrong person? Until you find a mortal who can share your bright world? Until you find someone to grow old and die with? It isn't enough, pet. I want all of you."

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You're scaring me."

"I'm not trying to. I'm offering you eternity, with me. Take it, luv," the request sounded frighteningly like a command.

"I need time, please. Give me one day, just one, to think it through," she asked.

Unknowingly, Willow had cemented Spike's resolve with that innocent plea. Just one day--the words reverberated off the old memories in the vampire's mind. Just one day was all she had asked before she had fled.

"No. I've waited long enough. No more days, not even one," he refused.

Willow's eyes widened as she saw the amber glow brighten Spike's eyes and his game face emerge.

"Spike, no!" she begged, scrambling away from him.

His arm tightened painfully around her waist as he pulled her back down to him.

"Don't fight me, Willow," he demanded. "I won't give you up this time."

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she struggled, pushing futilely against him, trying desperately to twist out of his iron hold on her waist.

"Please, no," she whimpered.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched her head back, lowering his fangs to the wildly pounding pulse behind her throat. She gasped and pushed hard against him as his teeth scraped along her flesh, but he held her fast as his fangs sank into her. She trembled violently in his arms as her warm, sweet blood flowed copiously into his mouth. He snarled softly and drank from her, drawing her blood, and decades of unfulfilled promises, into his body. Gradually, her resistance waned, and Spike felt her growing weaker, until she collapsed against him. He withdrew his fangs and licked the last vestiges of her mortality from the wounds on her neck.

With his thumbnail, he tore a small gash in his flesh, just below the hollow of his throat, and pulled her to him.

"Drink from me, Willow," he said softly.

She struggled weakly, turning her head away from the small trickle of blood. Spike dragged his finger along the tiny rivulet that flowed down his chest and brought it to her lips, parting them and running his blood-covered finger over her tongue. He pulled her back against him, forcing her mouth over the bleeding gash. With that small taste of his blood, Willow's resistance gave way, and she began to suckle gently at the blood seeping from him, until unconsciousness overtook her. Spike drew her away from him and placed a kiss on her rapidly cooling lips as he heard the last heartbeat flutter and die in her chest. He lifted her up off the sofa and carried her to the front door, taking her away from her home, her friends, her humanity, and into his world.

Spike carried her to the house he had taken possession of shortly after his return to Sunnydale. He ordered one of his minions to find a young victim from which Willow could feed when she awoke. He hovered near her as she moved through the death of mortality and into the consciousness of her demon.

A large part of him had hoped she would have chosen this existence willingly. He had been surprised at how hard she had fought against it. Part of that unwillingness was sure to pass over with her, making it more difficult to control her and guide her. He would accomplish it, though, whether by seduction or subtle force--each of which held its own pleasures.

Spike sat down on the bed as Willow began to stir. He leaned back against the brass bars of the headboard and drew her against his chest.

"Spike," she murmured weakly as her eyes opened and she took in her surroundings.

"It's all right, pet," he whispered. "You're with me, now."

An unfamiliar gnawing awakened within the fledgling, and she unconsciously tried to push herself away from her sire. Spike recognized her need and held her in his strong arms as he called for the minion.

Willow's mind was flooded with new sensations as a young woman's limp form was dragged into the room and draped across the foot of the bed. The redhead tensed as the faint sound of the woman's heartbeat assaulted her ears. Willow could feel the blood pulsing through the mortal's veins. Spike grinned at the soft growl that issued, unbidden, from his childe's throat. He released his hold on her, and Willow crawled to the end of the bed and brushed the long black hair away from the captive's neck.

Her sire watched, enraptured, as the newly-made vampire assumed her demonic visage. Her evil features were more exquisite than Spike had ever imagined they would be. His cock twitched and hardened as he watched his young beauty claim her first victim. Willow drank slowly, savoring the sweet, dark blood that flowed into her mouth and satiated her craving. A soft groan drifted from the woman's lips as her heart slowed and then stopped. Willow pulled away from the corpse and licked the last of the blood from her lips as her human features returned.

The redhead sat up, facing Spike, and stared over at him. "What have you done?" she asked softly.

"I've done what was necessary to keep you with me," he answered calmly.

"You're mine, Willow. My childe, my partner, my lover."

Amber fire lapped behind her green eyes as she reached out to rake her nails along her sire's face. "You bastard!" she shouted.

Spike grabbed her wrist and dragged her across the bed. "I had to make a choice, pet."

"You?" she hissed. "The choice should have been mine! You had no right--"

He snarled and wrapped his arms around her, tossing her onto her back and straddling her.

"I have every right," he said firmly. "You're my childe. Mine, Willow."

She squirmed beneath him, attempting to break free of the hands that pinned her wrists to the bed. He glared up at the minion, who scooped up the dead woman and hastily left the room. Spike's steely blue eyes returned to Willow, and he lowered himself over her and captured her lips. She tore her mouth away, and he raised one hand and grabbed her chin. He bit down on his lip before forcing her mouth back to his. The taste of her sire's blood, his cold hands holding her forcefully, the hard swelling of his erection grinding against her stomach, stilled the young vampire. Spike chuckled softly against her mouth as she returned his hungry kiss and suckled at the blood that oozed from his lip.

His hands moved over her body and tore away her nightshirt while Willow's fingers found the fastening on his jeans. She whimpered as he took his mouth from hers long enough to help her undress him. Her arm moved around his neck, pulling his lips back to hers. Spike spread her legs with his knee and slammed into her. She arched into him and moaned as he filled her mouth with his blood and her channel with his engorged shaft. He pistoned into her with long, powerful strokes and placed his fingers on her swollen clitoris and rolled it between them.

Willow keened as her walls clamped around him, eliciting a deep growl from her sire's chest. Spike continued to drive into her as she cried out, the force of her orgasm plunging Spike into his own.

He moved off her and dragged her over to him as he collapsed onto the bed, all the while reveling in the fact that the reality of truly possessing her far surpassed every fantasy he'd ever had.

"This doesn't change anything," she informed him as she lay against his chest.

Spike grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "Good," he said. "I'm going to enjoy forcing you to see things my way. I do love you, baby."

"You've proven that beyond any shadow of a doubt," she answered angrily.

He laughed softly and tightened his embrace, anticipating her attempt to draw away from him. Instead, he felt her snuggle closer to lie quietly against him.

After several minutes of silence, she finally spoke, "I love you, too, you bastard."

Buffy had tried to reach Willow all day. She wasn't at home. She wasn't on campus. She wasn't at any of their usual haunts.

"I think it's time to contact Angel," Giles suggested as he studied the worried expression on his slayer's face.

"I haven't spoken to him since he left. He won't return any of my calls or answer my letters. I'm not even sure he'd help if he could."

"You don't believe that," he stated. "If Spike and Willow did know each other in a distant past, Angel may be our best source of information. How badly do you want to help Willow?"

Buffy nodded in resignation, "I'll make the call."

The watcher tactfully disappeared as Buffy went to the phone and dialed. Angel must have been hovering in the background, the slayer thought, listening with those damned vampire's ears of his, because as soon as she mentioned Willow's name to Cordelia, he had snatched the phone away from her. The notion that he was that eager to help Willow was both comforting and unsettling to the slayer.

Giles ventured from his office as Buffy hung up the phone. She turned to him.

"He doesn't remember Willow from any past other than this one," Buffy told him. "He did say Spike was involved with someone before he was turned and that he'd gone back for her. Angel never met the woman, but Spike went on a feeding frenzy when he came back without her. Oh, and Drusilla is dead."

Giles stared at her, "Dead! How?"

Buffy shrugged, "She showed up on Angel's doorstep, babbling about being with him again. She was staked by a gang of vampires the same night."

"Interesting," he muttered.

"Frightening as hell, I'd say," Buffy responded. "What do you make of all that?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I think we can assume Willow is with Spike. He seemed genuinely concerned for her the other night, but if the woman from his past is her--"

"Then she's in danger," the slayer said softly. "We have to find them. I'll get Oz and Xander."

"I want to get my own," Willow grumbled as she looked disdainfully at the man lying at her feet. "When are you going to take me out to hunt?"

"I don't want you out, yet. It wouldn't do for you to run into the slayer," her sire answered.

"Why not? I'd have the advantage. She doesn't know what you did to me."

He shook his head, "Willow, she'd know what you are the minute she saw you."

"That could be fun," she said brightly. "I wonder what she'd do if she came face to face with her best friend and discovered I'm a vampire."

Spike's voice remained firm, in spite of the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth, "No, luv, not yet. You'll stay here for now."

"Says you," she argued.

"Willow," the word carried an implicit warning. "You'll do as you're told."

He walked to the man and dragged him up off the floor. "Now, drink him, or I'm going to break his neck and toss him out on the street, and you can go hungry."

She glared at Spike and grabbed the man, tearing savagely into his neck and draining him quickly. She dropped his lifeless body to the floor and walked angrily out of the room. Spike grinned at his childe's fiery display and followed after her.

"No sign of them," Buffy sighed as they returned to Willow's front lawn.

"Are you sure she's with him?" Xander asked.

"I'm sure," she nodded. "Just like I'm sure she has no idea how much danger she's in."

"Unless he's turned her already. In which case, trying to rescue her would be kind of pointless," Oz said grimly.

"I can't think about that," Buffy told him. "Let's just focus on finding her."

It was nearing dawn before Willow's friends found themselves outside the weather-beaten house.

"Vampires," the slayer hissed as her body tensed. "You guys wait out here and--"

"Hell no," Oz refused. "If Willow's in there, I'm going with you."

The two vampires who were guarding the door were quickly dusted, and the three humans moved hastily inside to find Spike waiting for them at the foot of a flight of stairs.

"Oh, look, our first house guest. And she's brought gifts," the vampire smiled cruelly as he eyed Oz and Xander.

"Where's Willow?" Buffy demanded.

"Right here," the redhead answered from the banister that ran along the upstairs landing.

The slayer's eyes flew from Spike to Willow as she instinctively grasped the reality before her.

"No," she whispered.

"What?" Xander asked anxiously. "What is it?"

"He's turned her," Buffy said and glared at Spike. "You're dead."

"Brilliant deduction," he snapped back. "I only took what should have been mine long ago. She was destined to be with me long before you ever knew her."

"Like hell," Buffy growled. "She isn't your long-lost love! She's Willow!"

"She's mine," he stated coldly. "The only way to change that is to kill her."

"Or to kill you," she replied. "Which would work just as well."

The slayer took a step toward the vampire and reached out for him. A searing pain suddenly shot through her, and the stake in her hand clattered to the floor as she dropped to her knees. Blood stained her white shirt just below her right shoulder where the dagger Willow had thrown from her perch above had embedded itself to the hilt in the slayer's flesh.

Oz clutched at the cross in his pocket and shoved it toward Spike's face as he and Xander grabbed Buffy and dragged her up off the floor. Spike snarled and stepped backwards as the two men hauled the slayer out of the house and into the first pinkish rays of the sun. Spike slammed the door and turned as Willow descended to him.

"See? I told you I was ready," she said.

"Pet, if you were ready, you wouldn't have wounded the slayer; you'd have killed her," he answered.

"Oh," the redhead responded dejectedly.

"You have great style, though," he grinned and gathered her close to him. "And a hell of an arm."

Giles collected the trio from the emergency room exit and drove them back to Buffy's campus apartment. The three men sat silently as she wept for the pain in her shoulder and the far deeper pain of their loss. The watcher handed her his handkerchief, and she dried her eyes and sniffled at the last of her persistent tears.

"We can't help her now," she mourned. "Willow is gone. We've lost her."

Giles reached over and patted her comfortingly on the knee.

"Maybe not," he said and leaned back as three pairs of eyes turned and stared at him.

Spike watched his childe from across the room. He had managed to keep the news that Angel was on the move from L.A. to Sunnydale from her, but it hadn't been easy. Only three of his minions knew, but those three had seen enough of Willow's anger to know better than to cross her. They also knew if the little redhead discovered they were keeping something like this from her, she'd exact a cruel punishment, so they had opted to make themselves scarce.

What Angel's presence in Sunnydale meant, Spike wasn't certain, but he knew it had to have something to do with Willow's turning, and he vowed to keep him away from her.

"Spike, what are you thinking about?" Willow asked as she came to him. He pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her.

"I was thinking how beautiful you are," he answered.

"That's a nice lie," she smiled. "Now, tell me the truth."

"It's nothing, pet, nothing for you to worry about."

Willow wrapped her arms around his neck. "If it's nothing, why not tell me?" she asked sweetly.

Her sire chuckled and moved his lips to her throat. "How would you like to hunt with me tonight?" he offered, attempting to divert her attention.

"Really?" she squealed. "You know I'd love to!"

"Good, but you have to stay close to me. I'm sure the slayer is waiting for another chance to get to you."

"I'm not worried about her," Willow shrugged.

Her turned her chin to stare into her eyes, "I know you're not, but you should be. You won't get another shot as clear as the last one. She's bound to come after you again, and I don't want you facing her alone."

She stared back at him, "What are you not telling me?"

"Never mind, pet," he refused.

"Spike! Why won't you--"

"Because I don't have to. Now, behave yourself, or I'll lock you in the bedroom again," he cautioned her.

His arm tightened around her waist as she snarled softly. "Don't get insolent with me," he ordered.

"Then stop treating me like a child," she snapped.

"You are a child, with far too little experience to defend yourself effectively. If you're going out with me, you're going to obey me. Understood?"

"Whatever," she hissed.

"All right," he forced a sigh from his lungs. "To bed with you."

Her eyes flew open, and she clutched at him with cold, small hands, "No! I'm sorry, Spike! I'll behave; I promise! Please, take me out with you!"

He shook his head and slid her off his lap, "Bed."

Her arms went around him again as he stood before her, and she pulled him close to her. "Please," she implored. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are," he smiled softly and stroked her back. "I love you, baby. Let's get you to bed before I go out. I'll bring you back something young and sweet."

She whimpered against his chest, and he chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "We'll try again in a few nights. We'll see if you feel like obeying me then," he told her.

"I feel like it now," she answered in a small voice.

"Well, for the second, anyway," he grinned.

He took her hand, and she looked up at him, embers of anger glowing behind her emerald eyes. He squeezed her hand painfully.

"That'll work with anyone else, but not with me," he stated. "If I have to drag you to bed, I will. Would you like a few more bruises to match the ones already between your legs?"

She licked her lips as the fire in her eyes turned from anger to something entirely different. "Well--" she said with a small smile.

He laughed out loud and scooped her up into his arms, "We'll see what we can do about that when I get back."

Angel listened silently as Giles filled him in on what they knew about Spike and Willow and the past the blonde vampire claimed to have shared with her.

"I should have paid closer attention," Angel said after the watcher had finished. "I might have recognized Willow sooner and been able to stop this."

"You aren't responsible for this," the watcher assured him. "But you may be able to help her now."

"How?" Buffy asked. "We can't un-vamp her."

"No," he agreed. "But I did some research while you were out looking for her last night. Their union is built on the past they believe they've shared."

"Did share," the slayer corrected.

"He twisted those memories to get her to come willingly to him," Giles continued. "If they can be twisted once, they can be twisted again."

"Would it make a difference? She's obviously made her choice," Angel said.

"I'm not suggesting we alter Willow's memories," Giles answered.

"Spikes?" the vampire asked.

"What if he were to suddenly realize Willow isn't the woman he wanted so long ago?" the watcher responded. "What if we altered the memory to involve a young, redheaded woman who clearly was not Willow?"

"Could we do that?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"I think I've identified how he manipulated Willow's memories. He couldn't have done it alone, and I think we can safely assume Drusilla wouldn't have done it."

The watcher turned an open book toward Buffy and Angel and stabbed a finger at the pertinent passage as he said, "But he would have."

"Okay," Buffy spoke after scanning the information. "But if this demon helped Spike because of some sense of allegiance or whatever, what makes you think he'd help us?"

"He's a demon," Giles stated. "He can be bought. If we can persuade him to help us alter Spike's memories, perhaps make him believe his old love could truly be here in the present, what do you think Spike would do?"

"Go after her," Angel answered with hesitation.

"And leave Willow behind," Giles nodded. "We can't change what she is, but Angel might be able to help her."

"She'd still be a demon," Angel pointed out. "I can't give her my soul."

"You wouldn't have to. I have a couple of friends with the council who can supply us with someone who could restore hers. Then, you could help her, Angel, mentor her."

Buffy's eyes moved from Angel to Giles, "Where do we start?"

"I'm going to attempt to summon the demon tonight. Angel it might be helpful to have you here to help convince him."

"You've got it," Angel agreed.

Spike awoke with a start and looked down at the woman sleeping comfortably against him. Even in sleep, everything about her called to him. Or did it? It couldn't be possible, could it, he asked himself as his troubled mind recaptured the dream that had torn him from his sleep.

The woman he had been holding had looked much like his childe--the same coppery hair, the same deep green eyes, but the emotions, the sensations had been altogether different. That woman had not been Willow. As he replayed the memory in his mind, the same sense returned to him--not Willow. He shivered at the possibility that he had been mistaken, that this small beauty cradled against him was not his former lover, that she might have eluded him yet.

"Spike?" Willow whispered sleepily.

His arms tightened around her, "It's all right, pet. Go back to sleep."

Willow was puzzled by her sire's sudden lack of attention toward her. The time they spent alone together had grown increasingly infrequent, and when they were by themselves, he was silent and distant. When he took her, it seemed to her more out of necessity than an expression of desire. He slept fitfully, waking and leaving their bed for long intervals.

When he had finally sent her out to hunt, it had been with a minion rather than with him. She had brutalized her victim, taking out her frustration and anger on the hapless woman. He had asked her how often she dreamed about their past and was noticeably disturbed when she'd told him she hadn't had any dreams since he'd turned her. His reaction, coupled with the recently-learned news that Angel was in town, set Willow on a determined course to find out what was going on.

As it turned out, it was an accident, rather than resolve, which had lead to the discovery of the truth. Spike had left their bed, and she had gone in search of him. She left the house and shrank back into the shadows as she heard Spike's angry voice.

"You were supposed to alter _her_ dreams, not mine, you bloody idiot," her sire snarled.

"And that's what I did," the demon answered calmly. "If you've suffered a case of mistaken identity, I'm not to blame. It isn't my fault if you asked me to plant those memories in the wrong woman's mind."

A sound not unlike static buzzed through the redhead's brain as the shock of understanding hit her.

"What about the dreams I'm having now?" she heard Spike ask.

"That isn't my work," the demon lied. "I assume it's finally sunk in that you've fucked the wrong redhead--in more ways than one."

"Bloody hell," the vampire growled, dragging his fingers through his hair.

"What are you going to do about her?" his companion asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I never knew it would be possible to find her until I thought Willow was her modern form."

"And you're sure she isn't?"

Spike shook his head, "I can feel it. It's wrong, somehow. And if Willow isn't the one--"

"Then the one you really want may still be out there," the demon concluded with a nod.

Willow didn't wait to hear any more. Keeping well within the shadows, she made her way around the house and fled toward town.

Willow wandered the dark streets, alternating between anger and overwhelming sadness. She didn't grieve for the loss of her friends. Her demon had no taste for such emotions, but the loss of Spike tore at her unbeating heart. She had been a mistake. She was not the one he wanted. A soft snarl broke from her lips as anger welled up inside her once more.

"Screw you," she grumbled at her absent sire. "I don't need you, either."

She walked slowly back to her house, stopping only long enough to feed from an unfortunate man who had been foolish enough to attempt walking home after his car had run out of gas.

Using the spare key she kept hidden near the garage, Willow unlocked the door and climbed the stairs to her room. She drew the heavy curtains together and threw herself down on the bed. Spike's scent still lingered on the covers, and she rolled onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing the tears that threatened to flow.

Spike's emotions has migrated from annoyance to anger to worried alarm as the hours flew toward sunrise and Willow did not return. None of the minions had seen her leave, but she was most certainly nowhere in the house. The onset of dawn prohibited any further searching, and he stalked to the bedroom, hoping the silly bitch had gotten herself safely out of the sun's rays.

His mind wandered maddeningly between the vision of the woman who clearly was not Willow and the childe who had curled her cold body around his only a few hours ago. The memories of his long-forgotten love suddenly paled in comparison to the fiery redhead who burned through his mind. He still wanted her, more than he wanted his past. He knew she had been hurt and confused by his physical and mental distance over the past days. Willow had masked her pain behind anger when he had sent her out to hunt for the first time, without him, but he had seen the bewildered sorrow she had tried to hide from her sire.

He rolled over onto her pillow and groaned, mentally cursing the sunlight that held him captive in the achingly empty bed.

Willow left as soon as the sun sank below the horizon, fearing the house would be the first place anyone interested in finding her would look. The wedge driven between herself and her sire was surely the fault of the slayer, her watcher, and the souled vampire, she reasoned.

She went directly to the school, determined to face them, to make them suffer for taking Spike away from her. If they had believed forcing him away from her would bring her begging to them, she would show them how wrong they were.

Willow flung open the library doors and stopped, surprised to find the room unlit and empty. She went to Giles' office and looked inside.

Books and papers were strewn across his desk, and she walked around it to see what he had been researching. The open book had been carefully marked, and she read with interest the passage concerning the demon.

Copious notes scribbled in the watcher's distinctive handwriting laid beside the book, and Willow bent to read them. Rage filled the vampire, and she snatched up the papers to tear them to shreds. Then, thinking better of such an obvious confirmation of her presence here, she laid them carefully back as she had found them. She strode out of the office to track down her sire.

Spike stormed into the house and slammed the door behind him. He had started at Willow's house and from there had searched along the dark streets in town, without so much as a glimpse of his redhead. The childe he had been so consciously avoiding seemed to have decided to help him by vanishing. Only now, he didn't want her gone. He just wanted her.

He had pounded the past into the ground as he had stomped around Sunnydale trying to find her. He cursed himself for throwing her aside for a past that couldn't ever begin to satisfy him the way she could. He walked into the living room as Willow came down the stairs. He grabbed her by the arms and shook her once.

"Where the hell have you been?" he shouted. "I've spent half the damned night looking for you!"

"I'm surprised you noticed I was gone," his childe replied.

"Answer me. Where were you?"

"Trying to find out what the hell I'd done to push you away from me," she shouted back.

His anger evaporated, and he dragged her against him as though he would crush the life out of her if he hadn't already drained it away.

"I'm sorry, Willow," he said. "It wasn't you. It was that damned memory. I don't care about it anymore. Whatever happened then doesn't matter. I love you. Screw the memory."

"You'll have to screw me, then," she answered. "I _am_ the memory."

"No, baby, I--"

"Yes, Spike," she interrupted. "Listen to me."

She pulled him to the sofa and pushed him down, then lowered herself to straddle his legs as she explained what she had learned at the library. Spike controlled his fury and listened carefully until she had finished.

"I'll kill them, every fucking one of them," he growled.

"I have a better idea," she told him as her hand moved to his shirt and began to tug at it.

"Okay, I'll do you first; then I'll do them," he agreed as he helped her pull the shirt from his body.

She leaned forward and kissed his chest. "Can't we play with them first?" she asked. "It would be so much more painful than a quick death."

She rose up on her knees as Spike slid her skirt off her and tore open her shirt, tossing it to the floor.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked as his hand trailed up her soft thigh and delved between her legs.

"They don't know that I know," she spoke softly as his fingers began to wriggle between her soft folds. "Just think of the fun we could have."

He grinned and shoved her off him and down onto the sofa, then stripped off his jeans. He spread her legs and drove into her, hard. Willow moaned deep in her throat and reached up to clutch his arms.

"I'll think about it later," he agreed as he began to thrust into her.

Spike groaned as her walls began to clamp around him.

"I've neglected you for too long," he apologized as his hand moved to her breast and kneaded it gently.

"Doesn't matter," she murmured. "Make me come, Spike. Please, I need--"

He hushed her with a kiss, and brought his hand to her clit. He took it between his fingers and pinched, and Willow came hard, screaming out his name.

"So good," she whispered.

"That was only the first one, pet," he smiled. "We've gotten nowhere near good, yet."

Willow stared up at him as he thrust harder and faster, creating pressure against her already burning clit and driving her small body into the sofa. She clawed at his back as he sent her spinning into a second, equally as frenzied, orgasm. She whimpered as his hard shaft continued its merciless assault on her weeping passage.

"No more," she begged weakly. "I can't."

"You will," he ordered. "One more, for now."

She shifted under him in an attempt to escape, but only succeeded in driving him deeper into her. She snarled and instinctively shifted into game face.

"That's it, baby," he murmured.

Willow thrust fiercely into him, the thick fluid flooding her channel allowing him to thrust, unabated, into her. He drew an arm around her and pulled her to him, turning his head, urging her to feed from him. She came at the same moment her fangs pierced him, his hand holding her head the only thing preventing her from tearing his flesh. Spike growled as he filled her, sending their mingled juices seeping down her inner thighs. He lowered her back down, buried motionless inside her, as she suckled gently at the rich blood of her sire. She withdrew her fangs and lapped at his wounds before pulling his mouth down to her throat.

Spike kissed her neck, drawing the flesh between his teeth and biting gently. She moaned softly as he drank from her and caressed her exhausted body with his cold hands. He trailed kisses from her throat to the valley between her breasts as he slid slowly out of her body. He lifted her off the sofa to carry her to their bed and crawled in beside her, pulling her close to him.

"Don't ever run from me again, pet," he said softly. "Or you really will beg me to stop. And I won't listen."

"Some threat," Willow giggled and raised her head to kiss him deeply.

"I am your childe, after all," she added as she lowered her head to rest against his shoulder.

"You're everything, sweetheart," he whispered into the darkness.

"No," Spike growled.

"Spike, I have to! You said we could play with them," Willow argued.

"You are not going to spend time alone with that wanker," he refused. "I forbid it."

She tensed and glared up at him.

"Don't even think about it," he warned her. "You defy me, and I'll make you hurt in places you didn't even know you had."

"You can't tell me what to do. I can think for myself."

He grabbed her and hauled her next to him, "What did you say, pet?"

"Ouch!" she squealed. "You're hurting me!"

"What did you say?" he repeated, moving his hand up under her skirt and gripping her ass.

"I love you," she said quietly as his cold hand crushed her against him.

Spike bit back a grin, "That isn't what you said."

"I do, though," she answered.

"You will not go to Angel. I forbid it," he said again.

"I hate it when you say things like that," she admitted, not daring to meet his eyes.

His other hand curled around the back of her neck as he lowered his lips to her ear.

"I forbid it," he whispered emphatically.

"All right," she surrendered, lowering her head to his shoulder.

The woman finished readying the supplies as Giles set the orb in front of her.

"You're sure she knows what she's doing?" Buffy asked quietly.

"She knows," he nodded.

The slayer looked across the table at Angel as the woman began the incantation. He smiled reassuringly back at her.

The orb glowed, bathing the table in bright light, and the woman fell silent and slumped back in her chair.

"Now, if we only knew where Willow is," Buffy spoke.

"With Spike, presumably," the watcher answered. "Altering his memories didn't seem to put him off her. Let's see how he reacts to a souled childe."

Spike knelt beside Willow and pulled her into his arms as red tears drifted down her cheeks.

"Baby, what is it?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered, trembling against him. "Spike, something's wrong."

"His blood?" her sire asked, glancing over at the man Willow had just drained and dropped in the alley.

"Oh, Goddess, it hurts," she whimpered. "Spike, take me home." He lifted her in his arms and took off for the house.

Willow groaned and turned over on the bed. The feelings of horror and pain she'd inflicted on her helpless victims stormed through her brain.

She longed to see her old friends, to talk to the slayer and the watcher, to see Angel's face, hear Xander's laugh, touch Oz's hand. She sat up and ran trembling fingers through her hair.

Her sire watched her closely, trying hard to ignore the thoughts swirling in his mind. He'd seen that look of anguished guilt only once before. If that bloody watcher had--

"Damn it," he muttered aloud.

Willow looked over at him and reached for his hand. He curled his fingers around it and pulled her next to him.

"They found someone," she whispered. "Someone to perform the curse."

"I know, pet," he answered grimly.

"Don't hate me, please. I couldn't bear it," she pleaded.

"I'll never hate you," he promised. "They're going to regret what they've done."

"No, please," she begged as the dread of their pain washed over her.

"It's all right, baby. Get some sleep. We'll talk about it later."

Willow looked up at her sire anxiously as they entered the school. His hand tightened around hers as he led her to the library. Angel started as Spike shoved the doors open and entered. Buffy rose from her chair and pulled out the stake in her pocket. Angel's hand went around her wrist as he shook his head.

"What have you done?" Willow whispered from her sire's side.

"Helped you, the only way we could," came Giles' response.

Spike glared at the watcher, "Screwing with my memories didn't tear us apart, and neither will this. Willow is my childe--"

"A childe with a soul," Giles added.

"Which doesn't make her any less mine," Spike sneered.

He released Willow's hand and walked over to Angel, "What are you hoping for? Do you think she'll leave me? Come running to you? Do you think for one bloody minute I'd allow that?"

"She has her soul now," the dark vampire answered. "She needs help."

"Not yours," he barked. "You'd turn her into a weak, simpering, brooding asshole, just like you. It won't happen."

"She cares now," Angel argued, his voice calm and steady. "She cares about people, about us. She won't kill to feed any longer."

"Won't she?" he glared. "Even if the alternative is starvation?"

"You wouldn't," Buffy glared hatefully at him.

He turned his hard blue eyes on the slayer, "You know me better than that. You know I don't give up what's mine."

"I won't let you hurt her," the slayer vowed as her grip on the stake tightened.

Spike grabbed her wrist hard, sending the stake tumbling to the floor.

"You're forgetting who I am," he growled. "I'm her sire. Willow belongs to me, giving her a soul doesn't change that. I'll teach her to hate you, soul or no soul. If I have to make her suffer first, it's on your head."

Buffy pushed him away, and Angel stepped between them.

"Spike," he said. "I know you love her. She needs--"

"Don't tell me what she needs," Spike shouted. "You may have changed everything else, but you have not changed the fact that she's mine."

"An oversight I can correct," Buffy threatened.

"You dust me, and my boys will dust Willow," he told her. "They have their orders."

The slayer looked at Giles in alarm.

"And if she chooses to leave you?" Giles asked.

"For what? Him?" he gestured toward Angel. "She won't go anywhere without my consent."

"What about what she wants?" Angel asked, looking past him at Willow.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," the redhead said softly. "I've already hurt--all those people. I killed all those--"

"Stop it," Spike ordered and returned to her side to reclaim her hand.

"Your stupidity is amazing," he said to Angel. "What did you think I would do after you restored her soul? Did you really think I'd step aside? Did you think I'd help her to become what you are? Did you think I'd cry with her and help her find absolution? You know me well, Angelus."

Angel's eyes darted to Spike at the use of his demonic name. "Think hard, old man. What do you _really_ think I'll do?" Spike asked.

A cold chill ran down Angel's spine, and the blonde vampire smiled cruelly as he observed the darker vampire's awareness.

"Even souled mortals can be evil, given the proper guidance. Willow's got a far better start as she is," Spike reminded him. "You haven't stolen her away from me. She's a fledgling, fully capable of being taken down the path of my choosing. If I have to force her, so be it. Even the most stubborn of animals can be taught to heed the whip."

"Oh, god," Buffy murmured.

"It's a bit late for prayers," the vampire sneered. "You should have thought this through before shoving Willow down this road. Stay away from her, or I promise you, she'll suffer for it. Willow, come."

She turned a sad glance back at Buffy as Spike pulled her out of the room. The slayer leaned back against the table and breathed a heavy sigh.

"What have we done?" she lamented.

Willow paced the room, hunger gnawing at her belly. When she had refused to hunt with Spike, he had nodded silently and locked her in the bedroom. That had been three nights ago. He had offered to bring her someone every night since then, and she had declined. But the need for blood was fast overcoming her resolve. She turned as the lock clicked back and Spike entered.

"Have you changed your mind?" he asked. "Are you hungry, pet?"

"Please, Spike," she whispered.

"I've brought you someone. He's young and strong. Would you like me to bring him in?"

She looked at him, torn between dread and desire. Spike opened the door wider and beckoned to the minion outside. The vampire carried the unconscious man into the room and dumped him onto the floor before leaving. Spike locked the door, pocketing the key.

"Can you smell his blood, pet?" he asked, his voice soft and enticing. "Would you like a taste?"

"Please," she begged again. "I can't."

"I won't have you drinking cold blood from sterile bags and stray cats," he stated. "You will never become what that bloody wanker is. If you want to eat, take him."

She looked longingly at the man lying at her sire's feet.

"I love you, Spike," she said. "Please don't make me do this."

He went to her and put his arms around her, "I'm not making you do anything. It's what you are, what we are, luv. You want him. You know you do. Take him."

"I can't kill him," she whispered. "I can't take another life."

He pulled away from her and shrugged, "Go hungry, then."

She whimpered as he flung the man over his shoulder and moved toward the door. Spike turned back to her.

"Change your mind?" he asked.

She lowered her eyes and nodded slightly. Spike grinned and brought the man over to her, lowering him from his shoulder and holding him up. Willow looked at the man regretfully as she felt her demon take over. Spike stroked her hair lovingly as his childe bit into the man and drank hungrily.

Willow waited several minutes after Spike had gone before she left the house. His minions, though deadly in their loyalty, weren't always the brightest bulbs in the sockets, and it had been fairly easy to dupe one of them into unlocking the door long enough for her to clobber him and escape quietly from the room.

She was determined to find Angel and only hoped he wasn't at the library. She wasn't ready to face all of them again. She found him coming out of the slayer's house, and his mouth dropped open as she ran toward him.

"Willow," he whispered, throwing his arms around her. "How did you get here?"

"It doesn't matter," she answered. "I need to talk to you, please."

He nodded and took her hand, leading her quickly to the hotel suite he'd taken during his stay in Sunnydale.

"Are you all right?" he asked as she sat down in an armchair.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I'm so confused. I don't know how to deal with all these feelings, Angel. They're tearing me apart. I've hurt so many people. I've--"

"I know," he murmured, dropping to his knees before her. "You can't change what you've done, but you can make it stop. I'll help you."

She shook her head sadly, "Spike will never agree to that."

"We'll do it without him, then. Come back to L.A. with me, Willow. I'll teach you how to--"

"I can't, Angel! You know what he'd do if I left him," she lowered her eyes from his intense stare. "And I love him. I know I shouldn't, but I do."

"Willow, he's hurt you," Angel said.

"Only because he had to," she defended him. "He's only trying to protect me. You may not like his methods, but you have to agree with his motives. We were happy, before. He's hurting, too. He just wants us to be together."

"He wants to make you what he is, a cold, sadistic killer. You're a very young vampire, and easily led, in spite of your soul. You can't let him make you into that," Angel argued.

"Why did you do this to me?" she asked, leaning back. "It was so easy before."

"It was wrong," he stated firmly. "You know that. There are a lot of people here who care about you."

"And they'll all die and leave me, eventually. Then what will I have?" she asked bitterly.

"Me," he answered.

She touched his cheek, "You're such a good friend. I love him, Angel. I don't think I can live for eternity without him."

"I could force you to come with me," he suggested. "He couldn't blame you, then."

Willow stared at him in horror and scrambled over the side of the chair.

"No! You've already forced me into--this!" she shouted.

"He forced you," Angel corrected her. "He turned you, Willow. You shouldn't be facing any of this."

"I can't make you understand," she said sadly. "I shouldn't have come to you. It was wrong."

"No, it wasn't," he replied. "You need my help. Willow, we could be together. We're the same, now. We have to deal with the same issues."

She eyed him suspiciously, "Is that what this is really about? You want someone like you? Someone who shares your guilt and sorrow? Someone who understands your bitter regret, so you won't have to be alone with those feelings?"

"Of course not," he answered. "But you feel those things, too. We have a connection that you and Spike will never share. We can help each other."

"I won't do it," she refused. "You've manipulated me as completely as Spike has, and both of you did it to get what you wanted."

"All right," he let the accusation slide. "What do _you_ want?"

"I don't know. Spike says we were destined to be together, and part of me believes that. But I also believe we make our own destinies. You two made conscious choices to make me something you each feel you need. I won't run away with you. I won't run away from Spike, not that he'd let me. When he turned me, he forced me to live in his world. When you cursed me, you forced me to live with my soul. All right, then. You'll both get what you want. I have Spike. I have my soul. They'll have to exist together, somehow."

"Willow," Angel reached for her, and she backed away.

"It's what you wanted, isn't it?" she asked coldly. "Fine, you've got it."

She stepped around him and walked toward the door, turning only long enough to say, "I don't want to see you again."

He watched as she walked out, closing the door behind her. "You don't mean that," he whispered after she had gone.

Spike was waiting, eyes burning with anger, when Willow returned to the house.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"With Angel," she answered. "I wanted to talk to him."

"I told you to stay away from him," he said.

"I know you did," she nodded. "I'm back now."

"What the hell kind of answer is that?" he snarled and grabbed her.

"Have you forgotten whose you are?"

"How could I? You make it a point to remind me at regular intervals," she responded sarcastically.

Willow cried out as he slapped her, leaving a red bruise along the side of her face. He grabbed her back to him.

"I don't know what that bastard has been filling your mind with, but I think you need reminding again," he growled.

He crushed his mouth against hers, biting into her lip and holding her still with brutally strong arms. She struggled against him, and he snarled as he pulled away and dragged her up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Tears spilled down Willow's cheeks as Spike angrily tore away her clothing and pushed her roughly onto the bed. He threw off his clothes and moved over top of her, pinning her under his hard body.

"Whose are you?" he asked as his hand grabbed her right breast and pinched hard at the nipple.

"Please," she begged.

He took her face in his hand, squeezing the tender bruise on her cheek.

"Whose are you?" he repeated.

"Yours," she whimpered. "I'm yours."

She moaned in pain as he forced her legs apart and slammed into her.

"Mine, Willow," he snarled. "Only mine."

He began a savage rhythm inside her, driving his hard shaft into her dry channel, battering the tender flesh. She whimpered and bit down on her still bleeding lip as he pistoned into her. In spite of her fear, or perhaps because of it, Willow's body began to respond to his brutal intrusion, and he felt her tightening around him, growing increasingly wet with desire.

"Harder," she groaned, cupping his ass and driving back against him.

Spike was surprised by her plea, feeling as though he was already close to tearing her in two.

"I love you, Spike. Only you," she murmured. "Please, harder."

"No more Angel," he demanded. "You'll do as I say."

"I'll try," she moaned desperately.

He chuckled and brought his fingers to her clit. Every nerve in Willow's body shattered the moment his fingers made contact, and she called out his name as her walls wrenched Spike's cold seed from his body. He lowered himself down beside her and gently stroked the darkening bruise on her cheek as they gathered their senses.

"This is what we are, pet," he whispered. "Soul or no soul, we're so tangled up in each other, there's no beginning or end to us."

"I wish it hadn't happened," she answered, her voice heavy with sorrow.

"I know how much you despise Angel. You'll despise me, too." He kissed her swollen lips softly and stared into the depths of her bright emerald eyes.

"That will never happen, luv. I despise Angel because he's weak. He lets humanity lead him around by the balls. You're confused and scared. Angel wants you for himself, doesn't he?"

"He says he wants to be friends," she told him.

"Right," her sire smirked. "What he wants is a watered down version of what we have, but he isn't going to get it. I won't let you go, pet. I can deal with your soul. Souls can be as dark as hell, you know. They don't have to be simpering and soft like that bloody wanker's. You were strong before; I'll make you strong again."

"But," she stopped, afraid to give voice to her doubts. He rested his head on his hand and traced the curve of her breasts with a finger.

"But what?" he prompted.

"It's just, part of me doesn't want that, doesn't want the darkness, doesn't want to hurt people or kill," she answered timidly.

"You kill to survive," he said. "And yearning for brightness in our world is useless."

"How do I live with this?" she asked. "How do I shut off those wants?"

"By feeding your demon, sweetheart. We'll make that part of you strong."

"I'll fight you," she said, her words holding no challenge. "I know I will."

"You fought me tonight," he responded and placed a soft kiss on her sore cheek. "But you didn't win. Neither will Angel, or the slayer, or the watcher."

"Goddess, you're so sure," she murmured taking his hand and curling her fingers through his.

Spike smiled and nodded, "I'll do whatever I have to. I love you as deeply as I hate this soul they've thrust on you. But your soul can be fashioned, and I intend to do just that. History couldn't keep me from you, and neither will this. Angel's forgotten who I am and what I'll do to keep what's mine. He's in for a hard reawakening."

He settled back down beside her and rolled her into him. The turmoil of the past hours and her sire's harsh treatment swept over the small woman, and she quickly fell into an exhausted sleep as Spike's gentle hand caressed the soft flesh of her back.

Spike watched as Willow sat on the sofa staring at her hands, lost in painful thoughts. He went to her and sat down next to her, taking one of her hands and lifting it to his lips. She looked up at him sadly.

"I wish it would all just stop," she said. "I wish you could remove this damned soul from me."

"I would if I could," he replied.

"If I were like Angel, you could screw it out of me," she said with a faint trace of humor.

"And enjoy every minute of it," he added. "Unfortunately, there's no 'screwing you into euphoria' clause in the original curse."

"But that's the curse I performed on Angel," she told him. "So how come he can lose his?"

"He can't, as far as I know," Spike shrugged.

"He can't? Does he know that?"

"He must. He knows the losing your soul bit wasn't in the original curse, so he must know you couldn't have included it," he answered.

"Then he and Buffy could be--," she looked up at her sire with wide eyes. "Why isn't he? Why did he leave her? She has no idea!"

"You mean, the slayer doesn't know he could be shagging her senseless?" Spike asked.

"No! She thinks he left because he couldn't be with her that way. Why did he tell her that if he knew it wasn't true?"

"Good question. I wonder how she'd react if she knew he could have gotten horizontal with her," Spike said.

"She'd be crushed," Willow stated. "He was everything to her. It took her months to get over losing him."

"Well, now, this could be fun," Spike grinned.

"What could be--Oh, you mean telling her? Spike, we can't do that! It would destroy her," she protested.

"Which is exactly my point," he replied. "He's been lying to her for months. I guess his soul is selective about what it feels guilt over."

The statement struck a nerve in Willow, and Spike caught the flash of anger in her eyes. He prodded deeper. "He feels comfortable enough telling you what to feel guilty about. I wonder who tells him what to brood over."

"We must be wrong," Willow decided.

"You performed the curse. Did you put in the 'get fucked, lose a soul' clause?"

"No. Like you said, it isn't part of the curse," she answered.

"Then, ducks, his soul isn't bound by it," he concluded.

"He's been lying," she whispered, anger now clearly etched on her features. "He's been lying all this time, to all of us!"

"So much for the self-righteous mentor routine," Spike said. "You know, I could almost admire him for that. Hypocritical and evil. Smacks of Angelus, almost."

"I'll go to him, make him explain," she said, sliding off the sofa.

Spike's hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back down, "No, you won't. We'll tell the slayer."

"It's his lie! Why should she be the one who gets hurt?" Willow asked.

"Come here," he pulled her onto his lap. "My turn to ask questions."

"All right," she agreed.

"Bottom line, what are they trying to do to you? What is it they're after?"

"They want to help me deal with having a soul," she answered.

"No, baby, they rammed your soul down your throat without worrying about the pain it would cause you. Why did they do that? Why is Angel so driven to convince you that you'll spend the rest of eternity writhing in anguish if he doesn't help you?"

"He wants me away from you. They all do," she said.

"That's it," he nodded. "That's what this is all about. Now, tell me what _you_ want--soul and all. Do you want to be free of me?"

"No!" she answered. "I want you more than anything."

"Because I'm you're sire," he added.

"How can you think that?" she moaned. "I love you, Spike. I don't remember much about the first time I loved you, but I know I loved you deeply, and it hurt like hell when you left me."

"You've been turned since then, and your soul's been restored. Those feelings have changed," he told her.

"Oh, Spike," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands. "You know that isn't true. I loved you all those years ago, and I loved you when you came back here a few weeks ago. I was mortal then. Mortal, with a soul, and I loved you anyway. If my soul loved you when I was human, why do you think it can't love you now? I do love you, Spike, more now than I did then. I'm what you are. I'm you're childe. We can share things I couldn't even understand when I was human. I love you, Spike."

He was listening intently, his steely blue eyes sparkling behind a small grin. She looked down and shook her head. "And that's what you've been trying to make me see, isn't it? Only I was too thick-headed to get it."

He raised her eyes back to his and smiled, "Not thick-headed. Confused and afraid."

Spike brushed his fingers along the bruise that had not yet begun to fade on her cheek, "I don't like hurting you, pet, but your soul has to be controlled, brought into submission, and conquered. I don't want to force you. I want you to help me."

"You're not the one hurting me, not really. It's them. You're just trying to stop them, and I love you for it, even when it scares me. Besides," she added with a sly grin, "the sex was great."

He chuckled and placed a kiss on her throat. "Angel's been goading you with lines about how painful it will be to hurt other people. How your soul won't be able to bear it. How you need him to help you overcome all that. He hurt the slayer without batting an eye. Does he look like he feels any remorse over that?"

He lowered his lips to her ear. "We can stop him, pet. Let's fill the slayer in on his little secret. Let her deal with his damned soul and leave yours to me."

Willow shivered as he paused to nip at her earlobe. "Let's put a stop to it, Willow. Let's fight them, together," he whispered, running his tongue along the flesh below her ear.

"Let's do it later," she murmured as her hand traveled to his waist and unfastened his jeans.

Spike moaned as she took his shaft in her small hand. He lifted himself up as she tugged off his pants and then slid her skirt down her legs. Straddling him, she stroked the length of his cock, teasing it with her nails. Spike pulled off her sweater and brought his mouth to her soft nipple, worrying it with his tongue until it hardened between his teeth. He turned his attention to the other breast as Willow guided him into her soft folds.

His hands cupped her ass, driving her forward until the full length of his shaft was buried within her. She rode him slowly, clamping down on his cock and releasing, teasing him until he growled and grabbed her around the waist.

Spike moved them off the sofa and onto the floor, still fully buried inside her. She cried out in protest as he withdrew from her. The cry was followed by a gasp of surprise as he lowered his mouth to her clit and ran his tongue along it. Willow mewled softly and arched into him as he lapped at the juices flowing from her core, trailing his tongue along her slit in long strokes and stopping to nip at the erect bud of her clit.

"Inside me," she moaned. "I want you inside me."

His mouth returned to hers, and she tasted herself on his lips as he drove back into her. His thumb massaged her throbbing clit as he brought his mouth to her throat. He bit into her gently and drank as her body convulsed beneath him. Spike drew out her climax until her body grew weak, spent from the exertion of her orgasm. He withdrew his fangs and groaned as he pumped his juices into her constricted channel. He drew Willow up with him as he rested his back against the front of the sofa. He pulled her close, placing her legs over his, until she once again had his full length inside her.

Spike cradled her head in his hand and brought her mouth to his neck. Willow drank from her sire as he coaxed her into another orgasm. She raised her lips to his and kissed him slowly. Her arms moved around his waist, and she lowered her head to his shoulder.

"I love you, pet," he whispered into her hair.

"I love you," she answered softly and pulled away to look into his eyes. "I think I'm ready to go find the slayer now."

"Well, maybe not quite ready," he chuckled, patting her ass.

Buffy was sitting on top of the picnic table in the park, talking to Xander, when they found her. Spike felt Willow's hand slide into his, and he looked down at her.

"I don't know if I can do this," she confessed.

"Yes, you can, pet," he reassured her.

"But I don't want to--"

Spike placed his hand under her chin and raised her head. "You will," he told her.

He felt the slight tremble of her hand, and his eyes softened, "I'm right beside you, Willow. Come on."

The slayer jumped down off the table as they approached. Spike released Willow's hand to fold his arm around her as they stopped in front of Buffy. Xander glared at the arm around Willow.

"Why do I suddenly feel violently ill?" he asked Buffy as he rose to stand beside her.

"Let's hope it's terminal," Spike said before turning to the slayer.

"Where's Angel?"

"I haven't seen him tonight. Why?" she answered crossly.

"Maybe he's taken a midnight run to L.A. for a quick shag with that brunette of his," Spike suggested.

"Cordelia? She works for him. He isn't 'shagging' anyone," the slayer replied coldly.

"Traumatized him that badly, did you? I heard you were a terrible lay, but I had no idea--"

"Shut up. You know damn well what would happen if--" her voice trailed off, and she glared at him angrily. "Or is that what you're hoping for? You want Angelus back?"

"You really don't know," he grinned, shaking his head.

"Know what? If you've got a point, get to it," she demanded.

"Explain it to her, luv," he said to Willow.

She looked up at him hesitantly, and he moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed hard. "Tell her," he repeated.

"Angel can't lose his soul," Willow spoke softly.

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked. "You know what happened--"

"That was before," Willow told her. "I used the same curse that you used on me."

"And we've tested it extensively," Spike added. "If I haven't pounded the soul out of her by now, it's never going to happen."

Xander's face took on a greenish hue, "Please, spare us the details."

"You wouldn't understand them, anyway," Spike shot back. "You know, you two would be the perfect couple. She'd be lousy in bed, and you wouldn't know the difference."

Willow was completely oblivious to Xander's embarrassed anger as she watched Buffy absorb what she had just told her.

"You're lying," the slayer decided. "You're trying to divert us from helping Willow."

"Willow, do you love me?" Spike asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Buffy's.

"Yes," she answered.

"Did I not just screw you senseless less than a half hour ago?" She lowered her gaze from Buffy's anxious face.

"Willow," he demanded. "Answer me."

"Yes," she said softly.

He pulled her in front of him and wrapped both arms firmly around her and kissed the top of her head.

"Still think we're lying?" he asked, looking over her at the slayer. Buffy seemed to have shrunk inside herself, and Spike's arms tightened around Willow, prohibiting her, as she attempted to step closer to the devastated woman.

"He wouldn't do that to me," the slayer murmured. "He loves me. He wouldn't--"

"Buffy," Xander moaned and put his arm around her. "They have to be lying. You can't believe them."

"She knows it's the truth," Spike said. "He finally nailed her, and it cost him his soul. That danger is lifted now, but he ran in the opposite direction. He moved right out of Sunnyhell. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"Shut up," Buffy hissed. "I hate you."

"I'm crushed," he smirked.

"Try staked," she growled and flew at him.

Spike pushed Willow out of the way and landed a blow to the slayer's jaw that sent her reeling over the picnic table and onto the grass on the other side. Willow heard the sob that broke from Buffy's lips and moved toward the table. Her sire grabbed her firmly and dragged her to him. Xander vaulted over the table and knelt beside his friend, drawing her into his arms as she wept bitterly against him.

"I told you this would be fun," Spike grinned and pulled Willow down the sidewalk.

"I just want to talk to her," Willow asked. "Just to make sure she's--"

"No," Spike refused. "We've been through this. I thought you agreed that what they've done is wrong."

"I did--do," she answered. "But I care about her."

"Then stop," he demanded. "That bitch is not your friend."

"Spike--"

"No!" he shouted and threw her onto the bed.

"Don't!" she begged as he straddled her. "Please, don't!"

"Don't force me to," he replied and lowered himself to place a kiss on her lips. "Ignore your soul, Willow. You know what they are. You know what they did to you. You're mine. Let them go."

She put her arms around his neck and pulled him back down to her mouth. "Make love to me," she whispered. "I need you."

"How could you do that to her?" Angel asked. "How could you tell her before I had a chance to explain?"

"You've had months to explain!" Willow argued. "You chose to lie to her instead."

"I had my reasons," he said coldly and glared at Spike. "You put her up to this. She never would have hurt Buffy like this if you hadn't forced her to."

"Wait a minute," Willow leaned toward him. "Angel, you're telling me you're the one who decides who gets to lie, and when? You hurt her, not me. Can you switch off your soul whenever it suits you? I'm tired of you telling me what I am, what I ought to be. You're a hell of an example."

"I'm not going to justify my actions to you. What I did is none of your business," Angel insisted.

"And I'm none of yours," she snarled. "Go back to L.A. I don't want you here. Buffy doesn't want you here. There's no reason for you to stay."

"If I go, you'll end up like him."

"Good! I sure as hell don't want to end up like you! I've fought him, Angel, really fought him, because part of me believed the things you said to me. You're a damned hypocrite! Everything you say is couched in lies!"

"The lie has nothing to do with you," he objected. "I did what I had to so Buffy wouldn't be hurt."

"Are you shagging somebody?" she asked bluntly.

Spike snorted and put his hand on her ass. "Is that why you left her?" she continued.

"No," he answered. "Now, drop it. Stay out of my personal business."

"And you stay out of mine," she replied. "Because if you don't, I'm going to ferret out the rest of your secret and shove it under the slayer's nose."

He stared at her as though she were a stranger, "Your sire works fast. How many bruises did it take to get you this far so soon?"

She shook her head, "Personal business. Stay out of my life. I mean it."

Her warning was cut short by Buffy's voice as she came to stand under the streetlamp.

"How could you?" she glared up at the dark vampire.

Spike bent to nuzzle Willow's ear and whispered, "This should be good."

"How could you lie to me--about this, of all things?" the slayer was asking.

"Buffy, I never wanted to--"

"Don't" she barked. "I don't want apologies. I want an answer."

"Me, too," Spike grinned.

She whirled on him, "Get out of here, now."

"Hell no," he refused, leaning against a store window and pulling

Willow back against him. "You'd never have found out if it weren't for us. I want to watch him paddle his way out of this pond."

She turned her back to him, too consumed with rage at Angel to bother sparring with Spike. "Well?" she demanded.

"There isn't an easy explanation," Angel told her. "I just couldn't handle the physical relationship. I'd been through too much. I just--"

Buffy swung at him and landed a jarring blow to his left cheek, and Angel staggered back, struggling to stay on his feet.

"We'd been through it together! What about all those long talks about being together? You knew how much I wanted you. You said you wanted me, too, and you meant it. I know you did. What stopped you? What made you lie to me to avoid being with me?"

Angel stared at her silently, and Willow turned slightly to look up at Spike in curiosity. He grinned and pulled her closer against him.

"Damn you, talk!" the slayer shouted.

Angel moaned softly and looked over the small blonde's shoulder to the redhead in Spike's arms. Buffy's gaze followed his.

"Willow," she said. "It's got something to do with Willow. Are you in love with her? Are you trying to tell me she's who you've wanted all this time?"

"No," he whispered. "Not the way you mean. Not like that. I care about her. I want to help her."

Angel looked down at the slayer's impatient expression. He put his hands to his face and growled in frustration.

"You're asking me for answers you don't really want to hear," he warned Buffy.

Buffy glared up at Angel, growing angrier by the minute. "You owe me an explanation. You owe me the truth," she snapped. "And you're damned well going to give it to me."

"All right. If that's what you want," Angel yielded. "I lied, about everything."

"Which everything are you talking about? There are so many possibilities," Buffy sneered.

"I lied when I told Willow she has nothing to do with us," he answered.

"I lied when you asked me if I remembered her from the past. I didn't remember her, until she cursed me and restored my soul, but I've known ever since then."

"Why didn't you say so? What purpose was there in lying?" she asked.

"I was trying to protect her. I left you, I left Sunnydale, because I couldn't stand that past following me around in Willow's eyes everyday," Angel said.

"Listen, if you want to live to not see another sunrise, you better cut the cryptic guy act and start talking--plainly and clearly," Buffy advised him.

"Then shut up and listen!" he snapped.

She stared at him, and he moaned and reached out to her. Buffy stepped back away from him and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

"I thought when I moved away, I could put it behind me. I'd be free of it, finally. When Dru showed up in L.A., I talked to her for a couple of hours before she went out to hunt and ended up getting staked," he explained. "She told me Spike was on his way here, that she'd pushed him towards Willow so he'd leave Dru and she could be with me. She told me she'd been feeding their dreams so they'd find each other. Of course, that was before we knew Spike had orchestrated the whole thing."

"And you let him come after Willow?" Buffy asked. "Without a word of warning to anyone? Why?"

"Because she promised me she'd manipulated Spike's dreams. She promised me he wouldn't hurt her. I didn't believe her. I told her I was going after Spike. Then she said if I didn't leave them alone, she'd make sure Willow remembered me. I couldn't let that happen. By the time Dru was dead and I'd gotten back to Sunnydale, it was too late. Spike had turned her."

"You're saying I knew Angelus back then?" Willow spoke.

"Yes," he nodded. "I saw you the night before William left. You were out walking together. I wanted you. I wanted to play with you. When William went to find work, I tracked him down and turned him. I knew the first person he'd go after would be you, and he did. I followed him when he came for you. When he agreed to give you one more day, I almost turned you myself. But I wanted you to be with him. I wanted to torture you both by forcing him to watch me take his childe, whenever I wanted to, for all of eternity."

Willow shivered in Spike's embrace, and he held her tighter, glaring over her at Angel.

"So, I waited for the next night," the vampire continued. "I was as angry as Spike was to discover you'd fled. But I had resources that he didn't, and I tracked you down. I considered dragging you back to him, but by that time, he was obsessed with Drusilla, and I was enjoying torturing the two of them. I didn't need you for that anymore."

Angel paused and turned away from them, desperate to find a way out of telling them the rest. They waited for him to continue. "What did you do to me?" Willow finally asked.

"Willow, you have to remember, I was Angelus then. I was angry that you'd escaped us, and by the time I found you I was bent on punishing you--"

"What did you do to me?" she repeated.

He turned back to her, but did not raise his eyes.

"I raped you," he whispered. "I dragged you into a pub full of drunken men. I raped you. I passed you around, and then I took you outside and raped you again. When I was finished with you, I tore your throat out." Buffy's hand moved to her mouth as she fought a wave of nausea wrenching her stomach.

"You suffered for hours," he said. "And then you died at my hands. Drusilla knew all about it. She knew what I'd done when I returned, but I knew she wouldn't tell Spike and risk driving him away from us. Then, in L.A., she threatened to reveal all of it to you if I tried to stop Spike from coming to you."

Willow felt Spike's arms withdraw from around her, and he flung himself at Angel, knocking him onto the pavement. Angel made no attempt to defend himself as the enraged vampire hit him savagely, repeatedly, until his knuckles and Angel's face were both bloody masses.

The slayer shook herself out of her shocked stupor and grabbed Spike by the collar. He lashed out at her, slamming her into the iron lamppost.

"Spike," Willow's strangled whisper stopped his murderous rampage. He turned to her and grabbed her close to him, kissing the soft flesh along her hairline and rocking her gently as she wept. He swept her trembling body up in his arms and carried her away, leaving a broken vampire and a shattered slayer in his wake.

"Willow, eat," Spike said gently as he urged her closer to the young man lying across the bed.

"I'm not hungry," she answered softly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

"This isn't worth starving over, pet," he told her. "You'll feel better once you've fed."

She looked down at the man with disinterest. Spike stood in front of her and pulled her head against his stomach, stroking her hair. He gestured to the minion in the doorway, and the vampire slung the man over his shoulder and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Spike sat down and brushed Willow's hair from her face.

"Would you rather have me, luv?" he offered.

He put an arm around her shoulder and leaned her against him, cradling her head at his neck. A brief jolt of anxiety shot through him at the thought she might actually decline her sire, but he felt her lips brushing over his skin as the childe responded to the call of his blood.

She drank slowly as he stroked her back, then dropped her head against his chest and licked the last of his blood from her lips.

"Better, sweetheart?" he asked.

She nodded against him and asked softly, "Do you still want me, after what he--"

"Willow," he whispered. "That's a distant past you're not even conscious of. I love you. I'll always want you."

"I wish you had killed him," she murmured as he drew her back onto the pillows and laid her against him.

"He'll pay, luv. I promise."

Buffy stood over Angel and dropped the cold cloth into his hands. He watched silently as she turned and sat down in the chair across from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Buffy," he said softly.

"Shut up," she snapped. "The only reason I dragged your sorry ass back here was to prevent you from being sun-dried before you fix this mess with Willow."

"You hate me," he stated.

"At the moment, I don't feel much of anything, other than revulsion," she told him. "Do you intentionally destroy everything you touch, or is it an innate ability?"

"I never meant to hurt any--"

"You never do," she scoffed.

"Buffy, it was Angelus--"

"How many times have you told me you _are_ Angelus? It was Angel who lied--to me about not be able to be with me, to Willow about--practically everything. From where I'm sitting, I can't see much difference between you and Angelus. You're just a little more subtle in the methods you use to inflict pain."

"I'll find a way to make her understand," he promised her.

"Do you honestly think Spike is going to let you within a mile of her? He would have killed you tonight if I hadn't pulled him off you. I should've handed him a stake instead."

Angel flinched under her venomous anger. "Tell me what you want me to do," he asked.

"I want you to get yourself cleaned up and get the hell out of my apartment," she snapped. "Go find a dark hole and brood by yourself. That seems to be the only thing you're good at that doesn't involve hurting anyone else."

He nodded silently and stood up, tossing the cloth onto the table before walking to the door.

"Do one more thing for me," Buffy said without looking at him.

"Anything," he agreed.

"Don't come back here, ever."

"It never stops, does it?" Giles asked in dazed grief after Buffy had finished explaining what had happened. "Even after Angelus has been defeated, he still manages to destroy."

The slayer looked across the table at Xander, "Are you okay?"

"Not really," he answered, blinking back tears.

"At least she doesn't remember any of it. That's a mercy," the watcher spoke. "And it wasn't Willow--not our Willow, anyway."

"The pain is still hers, though. Giles, how are we ever going to help her now?" Buffy asked. "Angel's lies have completely ruined any chance we had of appealing to her soul. Spike's hold on her is stronger than ever."

"It's always been strong. He's her sire," Giles pointed out. "When Angel's soul was restored, she was the first to forgive him."

"And for what?" Xander's angry eyes glared at him. "He's been lying to everyone ever since. She may have been able to forgive Angel for what Angelus did, but this wasn't Angelus."

"I know," he nodded. "We'll have to find another way to get through to her. I wonder--"

"What?" Buffy asked expectantly.

"I wonder if that's the only past she's had, or if there have been others since then," he answered.

"What difference would it make?" the slayer asked. "This is the one that destroyed her."

"It's imperative we find a way to appeal to Willow's soul, Buffy," he stated. "And as much as you may hate the idea, Angel is still our best hope."

"I'll agree with you on half of that statement," she said.

"It's quite a coincidence that they both ended up here so many years later," he continued. "I wonder if it really was coincidence at all."

"I'm not following you," she admitted.

"Following," the watcher's brain latched onto the concept, and he rose from his chair. "Following. I wonder--"

Xander looked over at Buffy, "I think Giles has found a mission."

"I think we're about to be dragged into it," Buffy agreed.

"But if it's for Willow," Xander said.

"Yeah. It's only--" she glanced up at the clock, "two o'clock. And sleeping's a bad habit, anyway."

"Are you saying Willow was always immortal?" Buffy asked as she peered over Giles shoulder at the book he was reading.

"No, not exactly," he answered.

"So, it's more like reincarnation?" she tried again.

"No," he shook his head.

"Giles!" she cried in exasperation.

"Oh, sorry," he grinned, pushing the book away and leaning back in the chair. "It's really rather fascinating."

"It usually is," Xander replied, sliding his rear end onto the table.

"Whatever 'it' is."

"What Willow experiences is more like a rebirth, a reawakening," the watcher explained. "The soul doesn't inhabit a different body. The same body is reformed. The memories and experiences of the former consciousness are lost, and the individual begins a different and completely separate life. I've never run across it before."

"Not that you remember, anyway," Buffy grinned.

"Yes, quite," he chuckled and slid his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Buffy, we need to talk to Angel."

"Why?" she asked sharply.

"Because he may have known more than these two versions of Willow. He may have known her before he came here, but after he was cursed with a soul."

"You think he may have been following her," Buffy said, beginning to see where he was headed.

Giles nodded, "In an attempt to atone for Angelus' violent actions. It's possible. It would also explain how they ended up here at the same time."

"Angel came to Sunnydale to help me," Buffy reminded him.

"That's true, but he may have also hoped to find Willow here. I wonder how many of her past selves have lived on a Hellmouth."

Xander bristled, "Are you implying she's always been a demon?"

"Of course not. But she may have been drawn to the energy of a Hellmouth by her very nature," he answered.

"So, if we destroyed the vampire, would Willow return as a mortal?" Xander questioned.

"The fact she's been turned will have put an end to her rebirths. She is a demon now, in spite of her soul. If the demon is destroyed, so is Willow," Giles answered. "The only thing we can do now is to try to nurture her soul, just as we originally planned. If Angel's been following her, attempting to redeem himself, he could still be very useful to us. Buffy, will you phone him?"

"No," she refused.

"For Willow?" he asked.

"Because of Willow," she answered. "If you want his help, you call him, but don't expect me to work beside him."

Giles took her hand gently, "Listen to me. I know you're hurting--for yourself as well as for Willow. But this may be our last chance to get through to her. Willow is grieving for a past she doesn't remember, at least not well. Let's see if we can find her a better past. Wouldn't it be worth it if it brought her back to us?"

Buffy sighed and looked up at him, "All right, but when this is over, I want Angel out of our lives. Forever."

"Giles, I don't see how this is going to work," Angel said. "Buffy can't even stand to be in the same room with me long enough to listen to what you want. She'll never agree to work with me."

"Yes, she will. For Willow's sake."

"I was surprised you'd even let me back in here," the vampire admitted.

"I'm not blaming you for what happened to Willow," the watcher assured him. "And we all want the same thing--to help her."

"Then you don't need me. I've done a thorough job of destroying any chance I had of helping her."

"Maybe not," Giles said. "Angel, do you remember Willow from any other past--besides the one we know about?"

"No," Angel shook his head. "Should I?"

"Possibly. I'm convinced she's had several, and I think you may have been involved in them, the souled you."

"I don't think back much," Angel told him. "It's too painful. Some of the memories don't come back very easily since my experience in hell."

"Will you try?" Giles asked. "Try to remember whether you've known Willow in other pasts. It's important."

"Then I will," he nodded.

Willow descended the stairs as Spike hastily dismissed the minion standing in front of him.

"What's going on?" she asked as he picked up a pack of cigarettes laying on the arm of the sofa.

He drew one out before pocketing the rest. "I'm going out for awhile," he told her, pausing to light the cigarette. "I want you to stay here."

"Why? We've already eaten. Where are you going?"

Spike blew out a thin stream of smoke and looked down at her, "Just do as I say."

"Look, I'm sorry I've been so upset the past couple of days. I'm much better now, thanks to you," she said softly.

He smiled and pulled her into his arms, "Of course you were upset. He's kept that bloody secret for a long time."

"It wasn't me, though. Not the now me, and I don't remember any of it."

"I'm glad of that, pet. He remembered it, though, and I won't forget it."

"So, where are you going? After him?" she asked.

"I doubt he'll be out wandering the streets. He's probably cowering someplace crying in his bag of blood."

"Then where are you--"

"Willow, leave it alone," he ordered. "Go up to our room and wait for me."

"No, Spike! I--"

"No?" he repeated, arching an eyebrow and raising her chin with a finger.

"Oh, all right," she grumbled. "I'm going."

Spike kissed her, hard, and squeezed her ass before releasing her. He waited until he heard the bedroom door close before leaving the house. Willow waited until she heard the front door close before leaving the bedroom.

Buffy and Angel stood as Spike entered the library. At the same time, Willow moved through the door behind the stacks, keeping within the shadows until she was just close enough to observe what was going on down below her. Giles stepped out of his office and placed a book on the table, ignoring Spike's hateful glare and Angel's downcast eyes.

"I'm assuming you asked me to come here to finish what I started the other night," the blonde vampire spoke, eyeing the healing cuts on Angel's face.

"We need to talk to Willow," Giles told him. "And the only way to get to her is to go through you."

"Request denied," Spike said.

"Even if we've found a way to help her?" the watcher asked.

"She doesn't need your help," Spike turned his hard eyes on the man.

"I think she does."

"As if I give a fuck what you think!" Spike snarled. "You curse her with a soul and then drag her through a miserable past she can't even remember. You'll never--"

Giles cut short the vampire's angry tirade, "It's not the only past she has. Are you aware she's had several others?"

"What are you talking about?" he snapped.

"I don't know if her past with you was her first, but it definitely wasn't her last," Giles began. "Since then, she's been through a series of rebirths. When the 'Willow' from your past died, her soul remained. After a period of time, it inhabited another 'Willow'--a body identical to the first, but without any of the former's memories or consciousness. The reborn individual starts all over again, and only her soul and physical appearance remain the same as the one before it."

From above, Willow clutched at the bookcase beside her, listening with interest to what the watcher described.

"It's an incredibly difficult phenomenon to document, since the individual rarely ever remembers any former existences," Giles continued. "I'm convinced Willow never would have remembered hers if the memories hadn't been planted in her conscious mind. Our Willow is the same physically, and she has the same soul as the others, but other than that, she is a completely different person. That's why she remembers nothing beyond what you've placed in her memory."

"She'll never remember how she died, in the past?" Spike asked.

"No. Those are Angel's memories, not our Willow's," Giles answered.

"My Willow," Spike corrected, visibly relieved by Giles' words.

"Angel has other memories of Willow's subsequent pasts," the watcher told him.

"He knew her after that?" Spike asked, anger creeping back into his voice.

"Yes, not as Angelus, but as Angel," Giles explained. "She was very fortunate Angelus didn't recognize her when he was here in Sunnydale."

"Why didn't you--he?" Buffy asked Angel.

"She was a past I didn't care enough to recognize, then," Angel answered grimly. "And I was too consumed with torturing people in the present to stop and consider one from so long ago."

"Anyway," Giles interrupted. "As I was saying, Angel has other memories of Willow's pasts. He followed her, became her unseen protector, so to speak."

"Or so _he_ says," Spike replied.

"I've been able to corroborate almost every memory he's describe to me," Giles told him. "Most of her pasts have been lived on Hellmouths. So, when the next 'Willow' was formed, it was easy for Angel to find her. She's experienced some very dangerous episodes throughout most of those pasts. Angel has detailed half a dozen instances--that I've verified--in which she certainly would have been killed if not for his intervention."

Up in her perch, Willow leaned back against the bookcase as her mind labored to grasp this information. Down below her, Spike looked over at the slayer, whose hand was resting on Angel's arm.

"I take it this means you've all kissed and made up," Spike said coldly.

"I was as angry as you were the other night," Buffy told him.

"I doubt that," he answered.

"What happened to Willow was Angelus' fault, not Angel's. He's spent almost a hundred years since then atoning for it. What happened back then didn't happen to our Willow, and Angel didn't cause it," Buffy said.

"Unbelievable," Spike shook his head in disgust.

"Look, if Angel had been cursed with a soul before you met that Willow, before you were turned, would any of that have happened?" she asked.

"You may not like the idea, but you have to admit Angel cares about Willow. He'd never intentionally hurt her."

"She deserves to know about this," Giles spoke. "She deserves to know that horrible experience wasn't the only past she's ever had. And she deserves the chance to judge Angel fairly."

Spike's gaze moved up toward the bookshelves above them. "You can come out of there, pet," he said.

Willow started, then closed her eyes and leaned back against the bookcase. "Now," he added.

She stepped out of the shadows and walked slowly down the stairs as Spike stretched his arm out from his side. She went to him and placed her hand in his, and he pulled her beside him. "How did you know?" she asked quietly.

"I always know where you are," he answered. "You do realize you're in very, very deep trouble."

Willow swallowed as he raised her hand to his lips. "Willow," Angel spoke. "I'm sorry--"

"I know," she nodded. "It's a past I don't remember, and you're not Angelus. And you've spent all the rest of that time keeping my past safe."

"And the wanker manages to squirm off the hook once again," Spike sneered.

"Willow," Giles spoke. "Yours is the last body your soul will inhabit. There will be no more rebirths now that you've been turned. If you are destroyed, your soul will be, as well. Let us help you."

"No," Spike refused. "You've 'helped' her enough. From now on, the only time you'll see her will be when she's with me. There will be no more conversations with her, and no more chances to appeal to her soul." Buffy stood, and Angel rose beside her, placing a restraining hand on her arm.

"I won't leave her alone," Spike continued. "And she won't be allowed to leave the house without me. I own her body, and I'll own her soul. I'll be the only one it recognizes and acknowledges. And when I'm certain it is irretrievably in the palm of my hand, I'll bring her with me to come after you. All of you."

Buffy stared across the table at him, "I've just made staking you my first priority."

"Do it, Slayer. My boys will leave Willow's ashes on your doorstep," he promised.

Buffy lowered her eyes and shifted uncomfortably. "That's your weakness," Spike smiled cruelly. "You'll do anything to prevent her destruction as long as she has a soul. So, in a sense, you gave her up to me when you cursed her. You won't kill me as long as you know it will mean her death as well."

The slayer raised her eyes and stared at him, fully aware that what he said was true, and fully aware that he knew it. Spike looked down at his childe and squeezed her hand.

"Home, pet," he ordered with a satisfied grin. "We have a small matter of disobedience to take care of. I've been wondering how many hours it would take to shag you until you pass out, and the bruises should fade in a day or two."

He chuckled at the faint glimmer in Willow's green eyes, "Don't worry, luv. I'll have you begging before it's over."

Spike led her to the door and turned back to the small group at the table.

"Remember her well. It's all you have left," he told them before pulling her out of the room.

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