***

The soft click and whirring of the blinds closing startled Willow from her sleep. It was barely audible over the music that still played on, but distinctively different, perhaps that's what woke her. Smiling at the feel of Spike's hands tenderly stroking her back and face, she rubbed her cheek against the cool chest she had demanded as a pillow and her eyes fluttered open to the incandescent wavering of candles nearly melted. Music and soft light, the things she had used to chase away her dream, a dream she couldn't recall. It was, now, nothing more a brief moment of wakefulness, a bad feeling easily soothed by Spike and his silent understanding of her need, his desire to comfort her.

"It must be late," murmured Willow sleepily, her thumb running back and forth over his navel as she focused fully on the flames that were struggling to burn in pools of melted wax.

"Guess it depends on your point of view, love," Spike whispered, bowing his head to kiss the top of her sleep tousled hair.

"Which is?"

"Well, the sun'll be up in few hours, so it's late and all good vampires should be tucked up in bed," Spike smirked, covering her hand with his. "But it's early for little school girls who should be sleeping 'cause they've got class in four hours."

"Ugh, school," grimaced Willow, dropping a light kiss on his chest and sighing. A look of impish conspiracy crossed her face and she tilted her head to look up at Spike, mischief lighting up her sleepy eyes. "You know, I think I'm coming down with something..."

"Really?" Spike cocked an eyebrow, his hand coming to rest on her forehead and he frowned, playing along. "Definitely running warm."

"And if I'm coming down with something, I couldn't possibly go to school...I mean spreading all those germs, making everyone else sick," she snuggled back against his chest, stifling a yawn as he chuckled.

"Tired?"

"Mmm," she admitted, her eyes almost shut.

"Sleep, we'll take your temperature later and you can decide what to do."

"You're not going, are you?" Willow mumbled against his chest. "You'll wake me so I can call in sick?"

"Of course, my Queen," Spike murmured, tightening his loose hold, his thumb tracing the rounded curve of her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere..."

"Good. Should we blow out the candles?" she asked, already half asleep and her mind running through the various safety warnings about naked flames. Spike turned his head to watch the flames as they flickered, drowning in the pools of hot wax.

"They'll burn themselves out soon enough."

***

The solid surface under the felt cracked audibly. Or it could have been the beaten and bloodied body that was thrown onto the pool table that cracked. Either way, the grunt of pain, which accompanied the fall, ensured that something had cracked through the sheer force of it all. A rounded boot heel pressed into the fallen man's groin, cutting down sharply against testicles that were already tender from previous abuse, and the fine end of a pool cue pressed against his throat, threatening to crush the air pipe.

"I usually don't like to share Willie," Angel pressed his heel down a little harder and leant his weight against the cue. "But tonight I feel generous. One more time, where is Spike?"

"I swear, Angel..." Willie began, readying to repeat the denial of knowledge that had led him to this very torturous position. The pool cue pressed down, effectively cutting off his air supply, and he clawed at the unrelenting wood, desperate to breathe. As his eyes watered and the thin lips turned blue, Angel relieved the pressure slightly letting the rat gasp for air. "He's been as silent as the grave."

"Spike's never silent," Angel growled, jabbing the cue back against the snitches throat and grounding his heel down. The howl of pain echoed around the bar, bouncing off the debris of destruction of pure rage, and Angel snarled. "Which means you know something. Come on, Willie, I thought we were in share mode..."

"I swear I don't know," Willie whimpered hoarsely and Angel's boot ground down harder, producing another howl of agony. The torture was too much for the snitch to endure and the howl was soon replaced with a jumble of words. "The only thing I know is he's got Marcus and his lot working for him."

With the information blurted out, Angel released the pressure of both foot and cue, but the threat was ever present by the weight of both against the snitch, while the vampire tilted his head to glare down at the beaten man.

"Now why would he do that?" asked Angel, more to himself than the bartender. Marcus was the new generation of vamp, keeping well below Slayer and Watcher radar, moving quietly and quickly so as not to attract attention, and certainly not the type with grand illusions of world domination. No, they survived, comfortably, confidently, and incredibly well hidden. "Where's the nest?"

"I don't know," Willie gasped, swallowing back the blood that was running down his throat from his broken nose. Tossing the pool cue aside, Angel reached down and hauled the broken man up by the front of his shirt, certain that the bartender knew nothing more.

"You find anything else out you tell me directly," Angel snarled in his face. "Oh, and Willie..."

"Yes?"

"Tell anyone I'm looking for Spike and I'll string you up with your own guts."

Willie gulped as the vampire's eyes flashed gold and he shrugged, smiling crookedly at the glowering creature that still held him. "Hey, you know me Angel."

"Yeah," growled Angel, pushing the snitch away, letting him fall back onto the hard surface of the pool table. "I know you Willie."

***

Willow moaned and arched her back, the silk sheet clinging to her sweaty skin. Panting, her fingers tangled in the sheets as her toes curled and she cried out. It was overwhelming, the heat washing over her in waves as her body shuddered and she gasped for air. The sheets rustled as Spike inched his way up from between her legs, covering her fevered flesh with cool kisses. With a smirk, he lowered his body to hers, cool skin meeting warm as his lips claimed hers, his tongue leisurely exploring her mouth.

"You're burning up, love," Spike whispered, nipping at her lips.

"I guess," she smiled as his mouth found her neck and she wrapped her arms about him. "I should spend the day in bed."

"Probably for the best," murmured Spike, reluctantly abandoning her throat to lean over and grab a mobile phone from the bedside table, handing it to her. "Call it in."

Smugly, she took the offered phone, using her thumb to dial the library's number and giggled as Spike latched onto one of her hard nipples.

"Stop that," she scolded as the phone rang, her free hand tangling in the short blond hair. The phone continued to ring and Spike's hands began to wander. "I'm serious."

"So am I," he murmured and circled his tongue about her other nipple. Groaning, she arched against his mouth and pulled on his hair. It didn't stop him and Giles answered the library's phone.

"Giles, hi," Willow tugged even harder on the blond hair and tried to turn on her side to gain some relief. With a muted growl, Spike pulled away from her nipple and raised up to push her back down. Scowling at her, he returned to his slow torture of her breasts, his hands wandering as she tried to concentrate on the phone call. "No, that's why I'm calling actually..."

Spike moved, rocking against her as his mouth continued to explore her salty skin, her heartbeat vibrating under his lips. Biting her tongue, Willow clamped her thighs about his hips, hoping to still his motion, it only served to bring her into closer contact with his hips and hard cock. With a long, slow thrust he ran his erection along her and she shuddered, Giles voice sounding distant on the phone.

"No, I'm not really feeling that great...short of breath? Yeah, a little."

Spike's lips worked their way back to her throat and she moaned. The thrust of his hips was repeated and her free hand clutched at his back. Those wicked lips parted and his tongue began to trace the path of the various veins that ran down her throat, over her shoulder and along her arm. His mouth barely inches from the phone she held and the leisurely thrust of his hips was repeated.

"Anyway, I won't be in today and I thought I'd let you know," Willow closed her eyes, rolling her hips to meet his next thrust, the length of his cock sliding against her. Giles talked and she didn't listen, instead she leant into Spike's caresses and tried to stop from moaning. She gasped as the head of his cock slid inside her, a shallow thrust moved him deeper and she bit down on his shoulder to smother her moan. On the phone Giles asked a question she really should have paid attention to. "Sorry, what?"

The question was repeated as Spike buried himself deep inside her and nuzzled her free ear, moaning softly.

"No, I wasn't there..." she frowned as Spike continued his slow torture. "Mom and Dad aren't there and I don't like staying by myself...was it important? No, I don't...I'll be back tomorrow..."

Spike lifted his weight up, pulling back out of her warmth, stilling completely before smirking down at her and thrusting, hard and deep just the way he knew she liked it. Digging her nails into his back, Willow grimaced, biting down on her tongue and wishing that she could just end the phone call, instead of listening to the nonsensical garbage Giles was prattling on about on the other end.

"...if I feel better..."

Spike smirked at the addition and Willow blushed, stuttering a goodbye that ended the call so she could toss the phone aside and pull him to her. The startling revelation that Angel had been looking for her last night was lost, she pushed the thought aside as she drowned in Spike's kisses.

There were no other thoughts, nothing mattered other than the power of his body moving with hers and their wanton needs. She became the most ravenous creature, clawing and wrapping herself about him, starved for the very thing he offered. For both of them the world no longer existed, they were flying on a carnal high.

Only to crash, hours later, exhausted.

***

Angel glanced around the Bronze, the usual Wednesday night crowds were gathered in their little groups around the various tables and couches, gossiping and flirting with others. It wasn't the first time he'd looked around the place, but it was the last for tonight. None of the Scooby's were there, or more precisely Willow wasn't there. Staying in the shadows, Angel thrust his clenched fists into his pockets, it wasn't like he was expecting to find her there anyway. He'd already been to the Rosenberg's residence, only to find it cloaked in darkness, no lights and no sign of life, and Willow's room hadn't been touched since he'd left it. That alone was a disturbing fact to the vampire since a mid afternoon trek through the tunnels to lurk in the library's stacks meant he'd been privy to a conversation between Giles and Buffy about the redhead. She was ill, had been off for days, that's the way Giles had described it to Buffy and she was more than ready to agree with him. Their discussion had turned to broken hearts and boyfriends gone bad, and Angel had wanted to scream that they were blind, deaf and dumb. But he didn't, he'd stayed in the shadows listening to the two until his head ached in anger at their stupidity and he left without letting them know of his presence. If she was ill, why wasn't she at home, safely tucked up in bed?

Angel shoved the emergency exit open, stepping out into a deserted alleyway next to the Bronze. Buffy and Giles were foolish if they really believed the dismissive things they'd been talking about. There was no doubt in his mind that Willow was with Spike, why she was crazy enough to be with the blond, he wasn't sure. There could have been a number of reasons behind it, all of them born of malicious intent and sure to end badly, but until he was certain what was going on between the two, he was keeping the details to himself. Details that came to him in sleep or daydreams. So many times had he been woken by her screaming for help, by torturous howls of pain and the overwhelming feeling that she belonged nowhere other than cowering behind him, protected by his very presence. Those screams were working their way into his waking hours, echoing down the deserted alleyway, drawing his attention to the dead end.

In the dappled shadows a couple stood, sharing an embrace. Except the girl was struggling, the scream that had drawn Angel's attention had faded, replaced by whimpers of pain. He moved deeper into the alleyway as the whimpers died off and the body sagged in the embrace. With a snarl, the blond head shot up and blood dripped from his lips, amber eyes of the demon fixing on Angel the teeth bared in a feral grin.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here? Come to save a girl from the big bad creature of the night?" Spike let the body drop lifelessly to the ground and morphed back to his human facade. "Too late."

"Spike," snarled Angel.

"Angel," grinned Spike, swaggering forward and stepping over the dead girl as he spread his arms wide. There was nothing but arrogance in the way he moved, casually stopping a few feet from the glowering vamp, and hooking his thumbs in his belt as his supercilious smirk fell away.

"What the hell are you playing at?"

"Thought that'd be obvious, mate. Dinner, have to stock up..." Spike took a step closer, licking his lips as his eyes darkened with an unmistakable hunger. "Got a little girl who likes to run me ragged..."

"Willow," growled Angel, the flecks of gold expanding and covering the usual brown. He couldn't move, although he didn't believe what Spike was suggesting, just the very thought of it infuriated him. "She wouldn't touch you..."

"Whereas you think she's just dying to get her hands on you?" Spike chuckled. The laughter echoed about the small dead end for a moment, before fading away and being replaced by an unsettled silence. Gold eyes stared into cold indigo depths and Spike's voice dropped to a low menacing growl. "Oh she does, peaches. She's like a wild animal, growls and snarls, screams like there's no tomorrow. They're sweet sounds, but nothing compared to when she screams my name...which, by the by, is a gloriously common event."

"Nice fantasy, Spike," Angel ground the words out through clenched teeth.

"Well, yours is...you should let her down off the pedestal sometime," Spike cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Let her take control...she loves that," the smirk grew. "God, the first time...she threw me to the ground and had her wicked way with me. Rode me ''til she had her fill, then had some more..."

Angel's fingernails dug deep into the palms of his hands, drawing blood. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Spike shrugged and tilted his head, leaning in close. "You can believe whatever you want. I know how fucking wanting she is, I smell it, I taste it, I consume it...you don't and you won't, mate."

Angel snapped, his balled up fist slamming into Spike's face, knocking the smirk off momentarily. The next punch was blocked, Spike easily anticipating the furious vampire's action and turning it to his advantage, landing one or two solid punches and easily kicking the other vampire's legs out from under him. Angel was on his back for one fleeting instant, even so by the time he had regained solid footing, Spike was backing away, the cocky grin firmly in place.

"Yeah, she likes to fuck...almost like she was built for it. Those long legs, tight little body, a mouth and hands that'll drive any man wild...not to mention," Spike brought one hand up to wipe the blood flowing from his already healing split lip and his face-hardened as his cold eyes fixed on the glowering Angel. "She likes to bite."

"Touch her..."

"Too late, thought we'd established that fact," Spike shook his head. "But you never were one to listen to what you didn't want to hear."

The demon that had been hovering surfaced as Angel charged forward, tangling his fists in his insolent childe's duster, and shoved him up against the brick wall. "What do you want? Why the hell are you here?"

"Simple," Spike stated, breaking the dark haired vampire's hold and beating him back with a few well aimed kicks and punches that sent him hurling into the side of the dumpster. The blow was hard enough to stun Angel and Spike slowly backed away. "I have what I want. Got to run, peaches, someone's waiting on me."

By the time Angel pushed himself off the ground the blond was gone. The alleyway was empty as was the street it led off and a quick sweep of the general area turned up nothing. The blond had managed an impressive and highly annoying disappearing act, something that made Angel growl. Or maybe it was the crude description of Spike's association with Willow that made him growl. The idea was ludicrous and he was convinced that the blond was lying, he had to be.

Spike had to be lying.

That one statement of denial held at bay the pure rage that consumed Angel as he made his way through the streets of Sunnydale. He could live with denial until he found Willow, had her firmly in his grasp and under his protection. Then the nonsense would end, Spike's accusations would be verified as nothing more than a malicious untruth and perhaps the blond's real reason for his return to Sunnydale would come to light.

First, he had to find Willow. The house was still empty and he was at a lost where to turn until he found himself walking down Buffy's street. With practiced ease he scaled the tree, walked the three paces across the roof and climbed through her bedroom window. The Slayer nearly had a heart attack when she turned away from her mirror to find him standing directly behind her. The initial shock was soon overcome.

"Hey you," Buffy greeted as she threw her arms about his neck. "I didn't know if I was going to see you tonight, what are you doing here?"

"Hey," Angel replied, automatically returning the embrace. His hands ran up her arms to pull them away and he moved to sit down on the edge of her bed. "I went to the Bronze, thought you all might be there."

"No, quiet night tonight. Xander is trying to find something in his room, I have strict instructions to call him at ten to make sure he hasn't been devoured by the mess monsters," Buffy smiled and sat astride his lap, her hands wandering along the collar of his coat. "That was a joke, you know, you could at least do the twitching of your lips..."

"Sorry, I just...what about Willow?" Angel asked as casually as he could, his hands coming to rest on the blonde's hips and Buffy shrugged, her smile wavering slightly.

"She was off sick today, but she called about half an hour ago," Buffy offered. Angel closed his eyes in relief and his head tumbled forward against her shoulder. Those few words were enough to still the rage, Willow had called, she was safe and undoubtedly Spike had been lying. Buffy's fingers laced through the dark locks and she dropped a kiss on the bowed head.

"Was she okay?" he had to hear it for himself and his arms wrapped around the Slayer's waist.

"Yeah, she's feeling better and she'll be back at school tomorrow." Buffy sweet words gave him peace of mind and, in thanks, he pressed his lips to her neck.

"What about now, tonight? Doesn't she want to catch up on missed schoolwork, is she coming over?"

The questions to Angel were those of a friend concerned. To the keen observer they were more of a man obsessed. To Buffy they were the questions of a boyfriend who wanted nothing more than to spend some quality necking time with his devoted girlfriend. Her fingers tightened their hold on his head and pulled him back from her neck.

"No," Buffy brushed her lips against Angel's. "She said she had other plans for tonight..."

***

There was a blue post it note stuck over the call button to the elevator. On it, in purple ink, was a question mark. Spike frowned as he plucked the note away and pressed the button. The doors opened to reveal another note stuck to the back wall of the elevator. Snatching it away, Spike's frown grew into a smirk as he read the cryptic message.

Follow and obey to find and have.

Did he forget to tell the great wanker that the little girl also liked to play games? Pressing the up button, Spike spent the short trip musing over exactly what he would find in her apartment. The doors opened to reveal dozens of tea candles, flickering in their little glass holders and it took a moment for Spike to realize that they formed a path. Twisting and turning, they snaked through the living area of the apartment, eventually working their way under the archway that led into the bedroom. There was no doubt that was where his Queen was hidden away and he had to fight the urge simply to ignore the path and go straight to her. Instead, he took a step forward and read the first little note that was stuck to the floor between two candles.

"Don't pick me up. Keep following," Spike murmured and frowned. Perhaps the little girl knew him too well, for his natural instinct was to pick up every little note she'd written, he already held two of them. Shrugging it off, he shoved the other two notes into his pocket and walked on. The path led him toward one of the wing chairs and another note smugly sitting in between two candles. "Duster to chair."

Spike chuckled, she was going to strip him, slowly and surely. He followed the path and the directions, his belt was left on top of the stereo, which had been set to randomly play CDs, one boot was left on the coffee table, the other on the piano. The path continued to twist and turn, crossing itself several times, before finally leading to that glorious archway. By the time he stepped into the little alcove, which led to the bedroom, he was wearing only his jeans. Every single one of her demands had been carried out, she had ruled and he'd obeyed his Queen, as it always would be. Even as his eyes fell on the bed, messed up and covered in half-light as newly lit candles flickered, casting long shadows over the practically naked redhead, he still forced himself to follow the notes.

The button of his jeans was undone and he floated onto the next note, dropping his fly as it instructed. One more note and then he was caught in purgatory ~ it merely instructed him to lose the jeans, no 'shag me blind' or even to approach her. As the jeans fell to the floor, he stood still, waiting and watching the redhead on the bed.

The long black satin gloves, which she'd bought in New Orleans, were the only things that kept Willow from being completely naked, and they were busy. Slowly, languorously the satin fingers were caressing her skin, a stark contrast in color and sensation, and Spike watched, mesmerized. There was no doubt that she'd been playing for some time, not only was there the distinctive aroma of arousal, but the fingertips of one of the gloves were glistening. Rolling onto her stomach, she drew herself up onto her hands and knees, elegantly crawling over the rumpled bed to the end, like some lioness about to pounce on unsuspecting prey.

Only her prey was more than willing and it was taking all of his restraint not to move. So much so that he trembled with the force of it all, something that was not lost on Willow. Sitting back on folded legs, she beckoned him forward with one satin clad hand.

"Why didn't you tell me that satin feels so good on bare skin?" she asked, her hands coming to rest on his hips momentarily, before curling around to tease his stomach and languidly moving up to caress his chest.

"You never asked," Spike stated and Willow giggled, slapping his hands away when he tried to touch her.

"Did I say you could touch me?" Willow hissed and Spike shook his head in acknowledgement, she was still playing. Titling her head, she pinched his nipples hard enough to make him flinch ever so slightly. "You'd probably not have told me if I'd asked anyway."

"I tell you what you need to know," he whispered, dropping his head to try and catch her lips. She pulled back, turning her head sharply, with those words the game ended and Willow dropped her hands down beside her, suddenly weary of it all.

"Do you?" she asked, running her gloved hand through her hair, knowing she wouldn't get an answer.

Spike smiled and caught that hand, bringing it up to his lips. With a sweep of his tongue he confirmed what he'd suspected, the satin was soaked with her natural lubrication. Surrendering to his own needs, he suckled on the tips, savoring the unique taste that was his Queen. Her free hand strayed to his hair, gently stroking the platinum locks as he continued to suckle on her fingers. The sweet taste wetted his appetite and made him ravenous, he could have happily pushed her back onto the bed, spread her legs and drank until he had his fill. Willow had other plans.

Pulling her fingers away, she let him have her mouth instead, her tongue eagerly seeking out his while her satin clad hands wandered. It was no end of wonder to her how his muscles would move under her touch, flexing and sometimes trembling. The lithe body was packed with power and he fought to curb it when he was with her, she could tell that just by the way he moved and it was exasperating. But the restraint was precarious at the best of times, all it took was for her to appeal to his baser instincts by scratching or biting, challenging him to let go, the self-control would collapse and she would revel in the pure power of the demon. Even now, as her gloved fingers wrapped around his achingly hard cock, she could feel the restraint crumbling away, his mouth demanding as one of his arms crushed her to him.

This was the best part of the power play, teasing him into a frenzy and that was her power, she could do it without fail. Pushing him away, she broke the kiss, gasping for breath. The hand that he'd been so happy to suckle on, brushed across his lips and he latched onto it, catching the soft satin that covered her index finger between his teeth. With a giggle, Willow moved back up the bed, pulling her hand free from the captured glove. He followed her, as she knew he would, his lips methodically working over her exposed skin. Pausing at the juncture of her thighs, he rubbed his nose against the damp curls, his tongue meandering amongst them as he bit lightly against the soft mound of flesh.

"No," Willow stated, her fingers tangling in the short hair and pulling him away. It was easy, using the hold on his hair and a gloved hand on his chest, to force him onto his back. Or at least that was the impression, Willow had no delusions that she was any match for him in physical strength, but he was willing to play her game. So he submitted to her desires, laying back against the bed as she moved above him, her mouth voraciously devouring his.

There were no protests from her as one of his hands wandered down between their bodies, his thumb teasing her clit, his fingers guiding his cock as, with a sharp thrust of her hips, she impaled herself. Breaking the kiss, she pushed herself back against him, taking him deep, her gloved hand resting on his chest as she sat up, a look of pure satisfaction on her face. Spike smirked, watching as she stretched, arching her back and rolling her head back, eyes closed in contentment. Slowly, she initiated a rhythm, a gentle rolling of her hips, guided by Spike's hands in the small of her back. Her hand left his chest, one single finger meandering along his stomach, impatiently caressing his flesh until she was able to touch her own, sighing at the delightful sensation of satin against her skin.

"Promise me something, Spike," she murmured, opening her eyes to find his firmly fixed on her as he met her slow thrusts.

"What, love?" he tilted his head, a lascivious smile gracing his lips as his hands left her back to run over her heated flesh and both her hands dropped back down to his chest.

"Promise me it'll always be like this, just you and me," she smiled, her bare hand caressing his chest as the satin encased one slipped down to his stomach. "That it won't change ever."

"Do you want it to be?" he cupped her breasts, squeezing them, eliciting a hard thrust from the redhead.

"Yes," her smile grew as she spanned her hand across his chest, over his dead heart. The smile gave way to a frown as she puzzled over the sensation beneath her hand and she stilled her movement. Her eyes fixed on his. "You're warm..."

"I've just fed. Two kids 'bout your age," Spike dropped his hands back down to her hips, squeezing slightly as his thumbs caressed her stomach, still holding her gaze. "I can promise you that nothing is going to change...you and me, nothing more, nothing less. Is that what you want?"

Willow was silent and she had to force herself to pull her eyes away from his, her gaze dropping back down to her hand on his chest. The warmth was already fading, she could feel it dying under her fingertips. Nothing was going to change, he wasn't going to change for her and that was exactly what she'd asked him to promise.

"Your choice, Willow," his hand covered hers on his chest, gently caressing the skin. "You and me, that's all it'll ever be."

She glanced back up at his face, there was nothing there, he was waiting for an answer. Using his chest as a lever, she pushed herself back, starting up the rhythm she'd abandoned, her eyes fixed on his. "Promise?"

Spike smiled, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing the palm. "For eternity and a day."

With a ecstatic growl he spun them, looming over the startled redhead. Before she had a chance to say anything else, his mouth crashed down on hers, silencing the words and replacing them with moans of carnal delight. The demon, in all his glorious power, was with her, pure and animalistic.

And Willow reveled in it.

Until they were both sated and spent, curled about each other in sweat soaked sheets. Her body still held warmth and his, as her fingers traced nonsensical patterns over his chest, did not. Cautiously, she moved, slowly inching away from his sleeping form. It was odd to watch him, never knowing if he was truly sleeping or if he merely had his eyes closed, there was no way to tell. So, as she slipped off the bed, she held her breath and waited. Nothing happened and she turned away.

Space, distance, Willow needed those at the moment. There were so many thoughts twisting themselves about her mind that they were giving her a headache. The living room still held the tea candles, although a few of them had flickered out, and Spike's clothes were scattered about, exactly where she had told him to leave them. Sighing, she turned off the stereo system and made her way over to the huge windows. It couldn't have been later than midnight, if that, so the blinds were still open, the nightscape clearly visible. There must have been people still up and about, undoubtedly some were foolish enough to be out walking alone in the dark. It was that sort of stupidity, ignorance and in some cases arrogance that would get them killed...and not just by the demon population, anyone looking for a thrill kill, easy lay or quick cash could just as easily take advantage of them. It wasn't fair, but then again the world wasn't a fair place and it never would be.

Disgusted with her own melancholy train of thoughts, she walked away from the window, taking the closest seat on the piano stool and raised an eyebrow at Spike's battered old boot sitting in the middle of the lid of the piano. It was reflected in the smooth surface, a dimly lit twin, laces and buckle all askew. Nonchalantly, her fingers caressed the smooth white keys and she wondered if it were real ivory...and if it was? Didn't really seem relevant, especially as Spike silently slipped in behind her, his hands massaging her tense shoulders. He was as naked and exposed as she was.

"Maybe I should go," Willow turned her head slightly and his fingers swept down her arms to entwine with hers on the keys.

"Why?" Spike whispered the question against her ear, his lips trailing up to kiss her temple as she remained silent. "Is there someone waiting on you?"

"No," she knew there was no one, having briefly spoken to Buffy while Spike was out earlier on. With a sigh, she leant back against his chest, her head resting against his shoulder. She was sleepy and contented, the restlessness of before seemingly lost in his embrace.

"Then stay with me, love."

"Okay," Willow wrapped her hands around his confining arms. "If you play something for me..."

It was a silly request. Willow expected chopsticks, she got Schumann.

Across town in her room, in the dark sat Angel, watching as the digital alarm clock ticked over the minutes until midnight. Then he left, slamming the glass doors so hard that one of them shattered.

***

The music played on softly in the background, an eclectic mix of strings and synthesizers. It wasn't a necessity, just an accompanist to the two as they moved together, comfortably wrapped in each others arms. Willow smiled, her head resting against Spike's shoulder as they continued to dance.

"Five more minutes," he whispered, his thumb caressing her lower back, the rest of his fingers spanning down over the curve of her bottom in a firm and unrelenting hold.

"That's what you said five minutes ago," Willow murmured, rubbing her cheek against him.

"What can I say?" Spike smirked and dropped a kiss against her fiery locks. "I lied. Five more minutes, love, that's all I'm asking."

"I'll be late for school," she half-heartedly protested, but she made no effort to pull away.

"I'll write you a note," Spike brought her hand up, holding it to his chest as they continued to move as one. "'Please excuse Willow for being late...or I'll rip your friggin' head off'"

"I'm impressed you said please," Willow giggled. As the laughter died away, she snuggled against him, quite content in the feel of his body against hers. The music stopped briefly, but they continued to move, languidly swaying until another song came on and established a rhythm for them. No faster than the previous slow dance and Willow sighed as she followed his lead. "I have to go, Spike."

"Five more minutes."

Willow missed her first class. For all her protests that she had to leave, it was Spike who eventually released her, sending her on her less than merry way.

And the day dragged for her. After the initial stir of interest her late arrival caused and the reassurance to her friends that she was quite alright, her plausible but pitiful excuse that she had been staying with an Aunt on the other side of town had been readily accepted by all concerned, the day settled down to a torturous burden of boredom. Classes were monotonous. Teachers voices turned into a constant drone that held no fascination for Willow, there was no melodic lilt to the words, no cadenced presentation of sound that caught and kept her interest. The lessons were flat and dull. A minute seemed to last an hour and she could have sworn that time lagged, changed its regularity so that it passed slower in the confines of the school. She fidgeted and fiddled, tapping pencils and pens, doodling when she should have been solving mathematical equations, and stared out of windows at the passing world...or rather she stared blindly while she wondered what was happening in an apartment down town.

The thought stayed with Willow the whole day, in brief moments where she was still, calming her growing irritation and frustration by pondering over the apartment, what could be going on there. Even as she and Buffy headed toward their lockers after their last class for the day, the thought wormed its way to the forefront of her mind, distracting her from the conversation. Was the music still playing? Were the soggy bath towels still lying in an abandoned heap on the bathroom floor? Was there someone lying in the bed...possibly sleeping? Or was he naked and lying in soiled sheets, surrounded by the aroma of their lovemaking and having a long hard ...

"You're missing all the fun, Willow."

"What?" asked Willow, snapping her head around and blushing furiously.

"With Giles and his translations. It's like watching a tennis match, only there's no ball, just words being belted back and forth..." Buffy shook her head and puzzled over the concept. "Although I've never found tennis that fascinating."

Letting out an agitated sigh, Willow turned away and opened her locker.

"Kind of like golf," Xander chimed in, shoving his books into his locker with careless abandon. "I never could understand the whole 'chase the little white ball around the place' concept. It's weird."

"I don't know," Buffy stated, frowning as she mused over the idea. "There's a kind of quirkiness to golf, you're out for a walk and beating the crap out of something. I can relate to that. One thing I don't get is cricket...I mean, really, what's the point of hitting a ball then having two guys run up and down on a piece of grass? And the game goes on and on, for days sometimes."

"And what's with that whole 'I say old chap'," Xander started to do a very bad impersonation of Giles as he slammed his locker shut. "'It's just not cricket!' thing? Unless you're actually playing cricket what's the point of stating something isn't cricket? Can someone please explain that to me?"

"Maybe you should ask Giles," suggested Willow, closing her own locker and turning to her two friends. "I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear your thoughts on cricket, especially since it is one of the most popular sports in his country."

"Do you think Giles plays cricket?" Xander asked.

"Giles and sport...I can't see it," Buffy giggled. "Oh, maybe he was a rugby boy."

"Now that's an insane sport ~ they don't wear any protection, nothing...not even a..." Xander looked down at his crotch, turned bright red and shrugged. "Well, you know...a...umm... All I'm saying is they're asking for trouble when they don't have pads or anything and then spend all their time running into each other at full force - that's gotta hurt."

"No more than the great translation fest that is happening in the library," Buffy grimaced and linked her arm through Willow's. "Come on, Will, Giles will be thrilled to have his number one research girl back on her feet."

"I don't know," Xander shrugged, following the girls as they headed toward the library. "Falling asleep in the library...getting every single bone in your body broken when some hulk tackles you...oh yeah, that's really on par, Buffy."

"Wait until you've had hours of Giles..."

"Hey," Willow cut through the growing debate of which was more painful, being crushed or translating, and disengaged herself from Buffy's loose hold. "I've got to go to the girls room, I'll catch up with you guys."

There was no real need for her to go to the bathroom but it wasn't questioned and her friends walked away, continuing with their great debate. The bathroom was a sanctuary, a place for Willow to gather her thoughts. Which, at the moment, were rebelling against her. She wanted nothing more than to turn on her heel and walk away, make up yet another flimsy excuse to leave. Splashing cool water over her face, she wondered if she could do it, just walk away from everything. It would be an easy solution to an escalating and confusing problem. But as she caught sight of her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she knew she couldn't. They were waiting for her in the library...she was needed, more importantly she was wanted.

But where? In the library with her group of friends busily working together as a team, or was the need greater elsewhere? And if so, why?

With a growing headache and a sudden weariness, Willow forced herself to leave her temporary sanctuary and head down to the library. Halfway there, in a deserted hallway, she felt it. An instant moment of recognition, an acknowledgement of a presence and she stopped, frowning as she glanced about the empty hallway. There was no one around, most of the students had gleefully bolted from the building at the first opportunity, while the staff were hidden away in their staff rooms, eagerly packing up so they too could leave. But it was still there, that understanding that she wasn't alone and it was growing with every step she took towards the library. It had to be Angel, that could be the only explanation, indeed it was the same feeling she'd had in the library the other afternoon ~ the same type of feeling she had when she was near Spike, but nowhere near as intense ~ and it was common enough for the dark haired vampire to come up through the tunnels.

What bothered Willow the most as she paused outside the library doors, listening to the quiet stream of words being spoken by the vampire himself, was why she knew he was there? Perhaps it was merely the result of a guilty conscience and if it was, well...she didn't know. It wasn't like she could purge herself of her sins, tell them all about her relationship with Spike and expect them to understand...especially when she didn't understand the relationship herself. She pulled her hand away from the door, listening to the soft muddle of words, they made about as much sense as everything else in her life at the moment. And they were just as unstable, fleeting, fading away as soon as they were given life. It was a transitory existence, nothing solid or committed. They existed only in the moment.

Raising her hand, Willow rested it against the door, testing its weight. Was she just as transient to Spike? Or was she needed, a necessity? Pushing against the door, she swung it open, catching sight of Buffy and she couldn't help but ask herself the same questions about her position in the Slayer's life.

"Willow," Angel's voice distracted her from the blonde. "You're late, we were beginning to worry."

The words were different, but similar enough to have the room spinning, shifting under Willow's feet and flashing into her dreamscape. The table became an open grave, Buffy and Xander standing either side, their heads no longer bowed in study but in grief, while Giles stood in the distance reading in a foreign tongue. The colors were sucked from the room, turning it into differing shades of gray and as the room continued to be consumed by the dreamscape it became starved of air, she could feel herself suffocating.

"Willow?" Angel was the first to move, to rush forward and reach out to redhead, who'd turned deathly pale within the space of a heartbeat.

"Don't touch me," Willow screamed as his fingers brushed across her arm and she stepped back, yanking her arm away. With that frantic cry the room erupted into chaos with Xander, an ever-present knight in shinning armour, pulling the shocked vampire away.

"What the hell did you do?" Xander demanded while Giles rushed to the aid of the hyperventilating redhead.

"Willow? What is it?" the Watcher asked. He got no reply and as his hands closed about her arms he could feel the tremors wracking her body, it was a brief but insufficient warning of what was to come. Suddenly, he was supporting her full weight as her head lolled back and she fainted dead away. "Damn it."

"Get off me," hissed Angel, his eyes flashing gold as he pushed Xander away, easily breaking the teenagers hold on him and sending the boy careening back into the long table. Two strides and Giles were all that stood between the dark haired vampire and Willow. He managed to take one step before Buffy pulled him up short, her hand wrapping about his arm and spinning him around with enough force to make him growl.

"Stop it," she snapped back at him as Giles wrapped his arms about Willow's waist and legs so he could carry her towards the safety of his office. "This isn't helping."

Angel couldn't hear Buffy, nor could he hear the various curses and utterances that Xander was sprouting off as he pushed himself off the ground, checking for broken bones. The only thing that Angel was aware of was the ever-widening space between him and Willow as she was taken to the confines of Giles' office while he was held out in the main area of the library by Buffy.

"What is going on with you?" demanded Buffy, drawing his attention as she stepped in his line of vision, putting herself between him and the redhead.

"Nothing," he snarled contemptibly, scowling down at the blonde.

"Nothing?" she asked incredulously, glaring at the agitated vampire. He wasn't paying any heed to her, didn't even bother to maintain the eye contact and she glanced over her shoulder to follow his gaze. It was firmly fixed on Willow. Buffy turned back to the vampire and took a step away. "Nothing. Great. How come I get the feeling you wouldn't tell me anyway?"

"What?" Angel couldn't understand what the hell she was raving about, none of the words made sense and all he cared about was the redhead who'd regained consciousness and was perched on the sofa in Giles' office with the Watcher hovering protectively.

"Nothing," Buffy stated venomously, turning away from him only to be confronted by the sight of Xander in the midst of some face-pulling marathon as he rotated his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. You know, being thrown across the room has proven that Giles' translation fest is far more dangerous that rugby," Xander said ruefully, grimacing at the pain in his shoulder. "Is Willow alright?"

"I'll go check," Buffy declared, already walking towards the office and right behind her was Angel. She turned and faced him. Her voice, when she spoke, held more than a little malice. "The last thing Willow needs right now is to be crowded, so stay here."

For a brief moment, neither of them moved, their eyes locked in a silent battle and it was Angel who broke away first, glancing over her shoulder towards the office before he turned on his heel and walked away from the blonde. Buffy watched him move away, not once looking back or saying a single word, it was all she could do not to scream at him, demand to know what was going on. As she silently made her way across to the office, she doubted that she would want to know. Ignorance was bliss, better than hearing something that would undoubtedly cause her pain, and she could live with ignorance far more easily than she could pain.

"Giles?" she spoke softly, knocking lightly against the glass pane of the door.

"Willow," Giles spoke softly to the shaky girl as he stood up. "I'm going to make you some tea, I'll be right back."

Willow could barely manage to nod in acknowledgement as Giles walked away, joining Buffy at the door and urging her to follow him into the little kitchen that was next to his office. He fussed momentarily, filling the electric kettle and switching it on to boil.

"Is she okay?"

"I...I really don't know," Giles stuttered, taking off his glasses and polishing them on a tea towel. He shook his head and glanced back at the girl in his office. "She seems to be in shock."

"Shock?" Buffy frowned. "I don't get it ~ in shock over what? I mean she was perfectly fine all day, why the sudden freak attack?"

"She was perfectly well?" Giles inquired, setting down a mug and fetching a tea bag. "No headaches or complaints of illness, nothing was said?"

"I can't think of anything..." Buffy leant against the counter and crossed her arms, working through the classes they'd shared. "I mean she seemed quiet, a bit distracted, but nothing that would explain this. Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No," Giles stated quite sharply. "No...I think perhaps it would be best if I talk to her..." he paused as the kettle switched itself off and he busied himself with making tea. "Without any distractions."

"Distractions? I take it that is a not so subtle hint that you want us to leave?"

"As you said, she was perfectly fine all day and then..." he added a few heaped spoonfuls of sugar and picked up the mug, stirring in the granules as he turned to watch Angel, brooding in the main part of the library while Xander whined. The two were often found bickering or engaged in childish name calling even in the most stressful situations when left alone together, but the vampire remained quiet, his eyes firmly fixed on the office. Giles was well aware of Buffy beside him, taking in the same scene. "Obviously something must have triggered such a drastic reaction."

"You think it might have been Angel?" Buffy asked, voicing the very thing that had concerned her.

"I don't know, Buffy," Giles shrugged and discarded the spoon. "But it strikes me as rather odd, the hysterics and...well, his reaction..."

"No...no," she shook her head. "You're mistaken ~ he's concerned about her, like we all are."

"I'm well aware of that fact and he's been quite protective of Willow lately. Let's not jump to any conclusions at the moment. It will be dark soon," Giles insisted, heading back to his office with the cup of hot, sweet tea. "Why don't you all go on patrol, start in the tunnels. Let me have some time to try and ascertain exactly what happened and why."

"Okay," agreed Buffy, pausing outside his office door, her stomach suddenly knotting in fear that it was all going to end badly. "We'll come back once we've done a thorough sweep."

"Good," Giles nodded, opening his office door and slipping through, closing it behind him so that the noise from the library wouldn't disturb him or Willow. And there was noise for a while, demands to know what was going on, not so patient explanations and finally one or two sharply spoken words of agreement with regards to patrolling.

"How are you feeling?" asked Giles, handing Willow the mug.

"Better thanks," she lied, taking a gulp of the scalding hot tea, wincing as it burnt her mouth.

"You don't..." Giles paused, deciding that telling someone they looked like Hell wasn't the most diplomatic start to a fact-finding conversation. He sat down in his worn leather chair opposite her. "You still seem rather shaken. Do you want to tell me what happened?

"It's silly, really," she shrugged and stared at the cup held in her hands.

"I'm sure it's not. You know you can tell me anything," he reassured her. "You should never question that, you're all very important to me and I'm here for all of you, not merely Buffy."

"I know that," Willow took another sip of the tea. Over the cup she could clearly see the concern in the man before her. "I don't know what to say, what to tell you...I can't explain, I just came in and...and Angel..." she shook her head, the vampire's words repeating in her mind while minuscule flashes of the dream and reality merged. "And I couldn't breathe."

"It's alright," Giles reassured her as her breathing once more hitched and threatened to starve her of oxygen. "You're safe here."

"I...I had...the strangest dream," she frowned, not listening to the Watcher, she was too caught up in the merging memories of the dream and reality. She turned her head to stare at the long table out in the library. There was no grave with her friends gathered about it under the omnipotent shadow of Angel ~ they were gone, the only evidence that they had even been there were the scattered books that littered the great table's surface.

"A dream?" Giles urged her, leaning forward.

"I can't remember it, not clearly...I get flashes, nothing solid. I couldn't tell you what it was about or what even happened, but there was something...I woke up and I was so scared. Then today, I walked through the doors and there it was..." she searched for the words, she couldn't explain what had happened, could barely remember it. She could feel the weight of Giles' gaze as he waited, patiently, like the perfect father figure.

"What? What was there?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I just...I felt I really don't know."

"Nonsense," Giles insisted, gently trying to encourage her to give some insight to the great drama that had unfolded only minutes ago. "Dreams are most insightful, a reflection of what's going on in your life."

"Yeah, your subconscious trying to make sense of the confusion of the day," Willow stated, lightly dismissing it all with a wave of her hand. "Blah, blah, blah."

"Exactly. And that concerns me," his words startled her and she could feel her heart begin to pound in her chest, she was certain that he knew. "Your behavior these last few days, weeks even, has been somewhat odd. I understand that being a teenager is, at the best of times, difficult what with school and friends. Sometimes, I forget that you are all nothing more than children still learning the ways of the world. But you've had so much time off school lately and I have to say, that's not at all like you, Willow. You've always been such an eager student and a committed member of our team and while I appreciate that you've been quite unwell of late..."

Willow winced and shrank back against the couch. This was just great, if he was going to call her out and tell her she was possessed by the devil himself, could he at least have the decency to scream at her, maybe a little arm flailing, some pulsing veins in the forehead indicating extreme anger and the onset of a stress induced aneurysm? All of that would have been far easier to endure rather than the picture of fatherly concern that sat opposite her, calmly saying all the words that should have made her feel safe and secure. There was nothing she could do but sit in silence, watching his mouth move as he babbled words of concern and comfort, all the time she felt the world was closing in on her. Willow was being torn, living two lives that could never be reconciled with each other and with every word, every assumption and opinion he spoke of the discord increased.

"I've disappointed you?" she asked, her voice catching slightly.

"No, oh no, not at all," Giles paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The last thing he had intended to do was make her feel insecure and apprehensive. "It's only that there have been so many changes of late, both subtle and obvious..."

"You think I've changed?" Willow tightened her hold on the cup, for some reason she seemed to be walking a tightrope of emotions, precariously balancing irrational anger that he was judging her and an intense grief that she had indeed disappointed a man she revered.

"Yes," with that tiny word, Willow felt the two pieces of her life tear apart completely and sat stunned as he continued with his explanation. "At first I assumed that it was a natural and somewhat expected reaction to...well, to Oz's indiscretion. I had thought that once things settled down and you were able to move on that...that you would become your old self again. Until the incident this afternoon, that is. Has something happened, Willow? Something that you want to talk about?" he was perched on the edge of his chair and Willow took another gulp of tea, only this time it was stone cold, as cold as she felt and she was silent. "Perhaps your dream?"

The dream, the stupid dream that she couldn't even remember. She shook her head. "I told you, I can't even remember it...I don't see how it's important."

"I know, but there must have been something about it, for you to react so strongly."

"I don't know. I can't remember and I can't tell you what I don't know," she rubbed at her forehead in frustration, trying vainly to remember the dream or at least why she had felt so overwhelmed. "As to this afternoon, I walked in and it was like everything spun out of control and I just...I couldn't breathe."

"But you were perfectly well before? You weren't feeling light headed, nauseous or anything unusual?" he was grasping at straws, the dream was proving to be as elusive as everything else about the girl in front of him.

"I could feel him," Willow mumbled, retracing her steps to the library and she stared blindly at the floor, focusing on the one thing she was certain of.

"Who?" Giles inched forward. He'd barely heard her admission and didn't want to agitate her further by asking her to repeat everything.

"Angel," Willow stated, her fingers straying to her lips. There was no sense of recognition now, he was gone, had left earlier with the others. "I was in the corridor and I knew, I was certain he was here. I could sense him."

"You..." Giles shifted uncomfortably, this was one aspect of her change that he did not expect. "You sensed him? Is it solely Angel or other vampires as well?"

"Yes," Willow answered, her thoughts immediately straying to Spike and the stronger sense of recognition that she felt for the blond. She closed her eyes and there was a quick flash of Angel in heavy black silk brocade and she was quite sure she could hear something snap, like the sound of bone breaking and her eyes flew open. "I mean no, no one else. Just Angel."

"Extraordinary," Giles stated, it didn't explain her earlier panic but he was certain that Angel had been the trigger and that the dream that so terrified her revolved around the vampire as well. The question was, why and how had this new sensitivity developed? "Do you know why you're suddenly conscious of him? Has something happened..."

"Hello?" Cordelia's voice startled them, making them both jump and she raised an eyebrow. "I think you two need to cut down on the caffeine. Thank goodness you're still here, although you don't seem to have a life outside of this library, so I shouldn't really be that surprised. Anyway, I have a problem."

"A...a problem?" Giles asked, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "What sort of problem?"

"Well, Harmony decided at the end of cheerleading practice, when I'm hot and sweaty and really don't want to be bothered with anything, that she wants a party for her birthday. At first, I'd thought she'd lost her mind, I mean really, what has her birthday party got to do with me? Except, god this is so ridiculous, I said some tiny little thing months ago about promising to help her and she called me in on it, in front of the whole cheerleading squad. Can you believe that? So now I'm stuck with organizing some sort of party," Cordelia explained and Giles stared at her blankly. "I need inspiration..."

Willow didn't even bother listening to the cheerleaders prattle, her fingers once more strayed to her lips and she considered Giles' question. There had to be a reason why she was able to sense Spike and to a lesser extent Angel, and there was a notable difference between the two and the way she reacted to them. Maybe it was familiarity, she could believe that for only a fleeting moment ~ she had known Angel longer and never had she been able to perceive him. No, this was a new development, barely days old.

Days old. Pain was the first thought that she had, a night filled with pain, Spike coming for her and blood. Drinking, giving, drowning in each others blood. Shared blood and Willow's eyes fluttered shut, the night replaying. Swallowing, she could taste him, taste the blood that she had eagerly consumed.

"Because she wants something where she can get dressed up like a princess...a theme party how childish is that?" Cordelia demanded. "I mean really, we're in high school, nobody wants to go to a fancy dress party unless it's Halloween and even that's becoming passé."

"Then call it a masquerade and give it that air of elegance," Willow suggested. She surprised herself, there was no unsteady tremor or hitch to betray the confusion and fear she felt, in fact she sounded perfectly calm and quite confident.

"A masquerade? I never thought of that, I suppose it could work. Great, so now I just have to organize a location, catering, invitations, entertainment and try to come up with a theme that lets Harmony dress as a princess and convinces everyone else that it isn't dead lame...I tell you, it's a total nightmare," Cordy insisted, the weight of the world resting on her shoulders in the form of a single party for a girl who wasn't really that popular except by association.

"Nonsense," Willow stated. "You could arrange with the Manager of the Bronze to have the party there, a masquerade and he ups the entry charge by 50% to make it seem exclusive. Your invitations are taken care of in their general advertising, you're ensured that everyone who's anyone in Sunnydale will be there and you don't have to worry about catering, entertainment or cleaning up."

"I'm so borrowing her," Cordelia stated to the flustered librarian.

"What? No, I'm sorry, Cordelia, but we were right in the middle of something..."

"Oh please," Cordelia drawled out sarcastically and Giles knew that he didn't have a chance. After ten minutes of listening to cheerleader logic there was nothing he could do but let the two girls leave together, although there was another reason he had let Willow go, several in fact.

The first, and most obvious to the Watcher, was that there would be no more information forthcoming from Willow, she had drawn further into herself after her startling revelation about Angel. And that was the second. Giles had never heard of a human being able to single out a vampire merely by intuit. Certainly Slayers had the ability, but that was more a general awareness and not singular to one particular vampire. It was a disturbing disclosure and one that Giles was eager to look into. As soon as the girls left, he applied himself to his books, searching through various passages in the Watcher Diaries and eventually turning to the numerous volumes the library contained on vampire lore.

Although hours of searching proved fruitless as volume upon volume was slammed shut in frustration. Giles took off his glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes, there had to be an answer somewhere. He put his glasses back on and turned to go back to the stacks to continue his search.

"Oh dear lord," exclaimed Giles, reeling back in fright and clutching at his chest.

"Sorry," Angel murmured from the office's doorway.

"Where's Buffy?"

"We got split up," the vampire explained. "She should be back soon."

"Good," Giles nodded. "Actually, yes, it is good. I'd like to talk to you privately for a moment."

"About?" Angel asked, tilting his head.

"There's no easy way to say this...well, to ask, really," Giles faltered, once more taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. He glanced up at the brooding vampire, replaced his glasses and crossed his arms. "Have you been..."

"Have I been what?" urged Angel as the Watcher fell silent.

Giles paused for a moment, his first thought had been to ask if the vampire had been harassing the girl, but that probably wasn't the best way to put it. "Is there something going on between you and Willow?"

"What?" Angel asked incredulously, folding his arms and giving the Watcher the once over. "Did she tell you that?"

"No, no, not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Angel repeated, growing wary of the general course of the conversation. "What did she say...exactly?"

"Well, not a lot. But her reaction this afternoon was so extreme..." Giles shrugged, watching the vampire carefully for his reaction. "There's no other way to put this, I believe she was responding to your presence and that she was genuinely afraid you. So, you can imagine that that alone leads me to wonder what's been going on between the two of you. Have you been harassing her?"

"Harassing?" the word was spat out and accompanied with more than a little venom. "I've done nothing to her, nothing at all. Did you ask if she was frightened of me?"

"I didn't have to, the way she reacted..."

"The way she reacted? There were other people in the room, you don't know what happened," Angel growled out, pure frustration and anger was starting to blind him, threatening to spill forth in an ugly show of rage. "Hell, did you even ask her?"

"Angel, she could barely talk..."

"Did you ask her anything?" he challenged, wondering if the Watcher had in fact asked the girl anything that could tell them what was going on with her. "Did you ask her about Spike?"

"I don't think that that subject really needs to be broached..."

"You didn't, did you?" Angel demanded, not believing the stupidity of the man before him. "Where is she?"

"What?"

"Willow," Angel growled out impatiently. "Where is she now?"

"She went with Cordelia to organize some party," Giles stated. "I thought it best that she ground herself in everyday teenage activity, let her get away from the pressures and responsibilities of the Hellmouth for at least one night."

Silently, Angel turned his back to the Watcher and walked out of the office. He was half way to the main library door when he heard his name.

"Angel," Giles called out, and the vampire paused and turned his head slightly. "I think it would be best for all concerned if you leave Willow alone for the time being, let her have some space."

Angel ground his teeth together, his eyes glowing feral yellow with rage. He didn't bother replying, just kept walking and from the stacks Buffy watched him leave.

***

"What does shared blood mean?" Willow asked as Spike stepped out of the elevator. He didn't break his stride or falter in anyway as he shrugged off his duster and tossed it onto the sofa, casually turning to face her.

"I told you, love. We both carry our blood."

"What does it really mean, Spike?" she asked and he remained silent, his jaw flexing slightly. "Am I a vampire?"

"Well, unless you've developed a sudden urge to snack on your classmates," Spike smirked, taking a step towards her. "And a severe allergic reaction to sunlight..."

"Don't you dare joke about this," she hissed, her resolve face firmly in place and her arms crossed. "I want to know what it means...what the ramifications are."

"Ramifications?" Spike's smirk fell as his eyes narrowed. "Big word, pet."

In one swift, smooth move, she struck out at him, her hand squarely catching his cheek with enough force to jerk his head to the side and make her palm throb. As he flexed his jaw and slowly brought his head back up, Willow clenched her throbbing hand and swallowed back the tears she could feel building up. "Tell me what it means."

"You carry our blood," he could see the demanding questions in her eyes, questions that he hadn't expected quite so soon, and blindly turned away. With an agitated sigh, he sat down in one of the winged chairs and brought his hands to rest on the chair's arms. Leaning back, he fixed his eyes on her. "My blood taints yours. No, you're not a vampire...but you're not exactly human either."

"What?" asked Willow, her face paling as she sunk down in the chair opposite and Spike shrugged nonchalantly.

"You'll have noticed little things, probably. Heightened senses, you heal faster, a small increase in your strength. Then there are other things..."

Willow dropped her head down, her eyes falling on her wrist, the ugly bruise that Angel had left was nearly gone, nothing more than a slight yellowing of the skin. "What other things?"

"Your heart rate will have slowed and the rate you breathe, which in turn affects your blood pressure. Though your metabolism has probably increased..."

"So what does it mean?" asked Willow, still staring at her wrist. "My body is doing what? Slowly dying..."

"No," Spike stated, drawing Willow's attention and she looked up at him. She had expected to see some smug smirk, but there wasn't one. There wasn't even the usual stoic mask, it was like the night she'd asked about Dru, he was pensive, the usual wicked glint in his eyes was dulled by something Willow couldn't quite place.

"Then what?" her voice trembled as she asked, a single tear escaping. "I don't understand..."

"While we share blood, while you carry our blood, you don't age," he could see the confusion welling up in the eyes that were fixed on him. "You live, but you don't get any older."

"I don't age?" Willow asked in disbelief, then shook her head and frowned. Standing up, she began to pace, her arms folded in an attempt to comfort herself from something she was certain was a bad thing. She stopped a few paces away from him and fixed her gaze. "You mean I'm immortal?"

"No. You can die in all the normal ways, get hit by a bus, shot, strangled...any number of ways," he pushed back against the chairs arms briefly. "You just don't age..."

"So," Willow began as she took a step forward, still trying to fully comprehend the idea. "When I'm sixty, I'll still look like this?"

Spike tightened his hold on the arms of the chair and Willow's breath caught as she realized there was still more to come. Slowly, she crossed the small distance that separated them and knelt beside him, her hand finding his as she looked into his eyes, desperately trying to find the answers.

"Spike?"

"No. Your body is constantly renewing cells. If..." he paused, his thumb rhythmically caressing the pulse point in her wrist and he sighed. "Eventually, you won't carry our blood anymore and then...then you will no longer reap the benefits."

"There was an if..."

"If you don't continue to..."

"Take your blood," Willow finished his sentence as the enormity of the situation hit home and dropped her eyes to their hands. Pulling hers away, she stood and turned, stumbling slightly as she made her way back to her chair.

Twice she'd drunk from him. The first time in New Orleans, briefly and she'd felt odd. It was after that she could distinctively smell him, how she recognized him when he'd grabbed her the first time he'd brought her to the apartment. Absently, she brought her fingers to her parted lips. The second time she'd bit him it seemed to be instinctive, the most natural thing for her to do. In fact, she'd craved the taste of his blood, to her it was heady and intoxicating. It was that second time that he'd pulled her away, stopped her from taking even more. Then there was also the general blood exchange that they'd shared only a few nights ago and even then he'd eventually been the one to pull back, to stop it going any further.

"It was your choice..." the words were distant even though they were whispered in her ear and she turned away, barely registering the fact that he'd moved, that he was so close to her, watching and waiting.

"How could it be my choice when I wasn't aware I was making one?"

"Didn't you?"

The quiet question startled her and she swung her head to look at him, the anger dissipating. On some level, after all her time involved with the Slayer and various vampire lore, she had to know there were consequences of consuming a vampire's blood and yet she'd done it ~ twice no less. More than that was the fact that Spike had pulled her away, told her to stop drinking. Closing her eyes, she shook her head, she wanted to deny it but she couldn't. Had she, on some subconscious level, made a choice and sealed her own fate with that first bite in New Orleans? The bond that was between them was undeniable, she could feel it now, feel him barely millimeters from her. She knew, even as she did it, that by turning her head a small fraction her temple would rest against his cheek and his moist lips moved slightly against her ear. Inhaling, she took in his scent of leather, cigarettes and the unmistakable smell of Spike, all sharp and distinct. But there was something else, a sensation running through her, a yearning, she was tingling, dying for a fix.

"Why do I...feel you?" keeping her eyes closed, Willow whispered the question, her voice catching slightly. "Know when you're near."

"Blood recognizing blood," was the sultry reply, the dark timbre of his voice sending shivers down her spine. "I know when you're close."

Willow tilted her head to the side as Spike nuzzled her neck, pushing back her hair with a cool hand. Blood recognizing blood, she twisted that statement for a moment. She'd felt Angel's presence as well, but that made sense, Angel and Spike were of the same line, carried the same blood.

"Do others know, would they sense me in the same way?"

"No," Spike mumbled, his mouth busy tracing her hairline behind the shell of her ear. Trying to regain some type of control, Willow tangled her fingers in his short hair and pulled him back. With a reluctant sigh, he abandoned his task and let her lead him away, putting the space she needed between them by kneeling back and looking her directly in the eyes, his arms trapping her in the chair by resting either side of her.

"Why not?" Willow tilted her head to watch him carefully.

"Because they don't carry your blood," Spike shrugged, his hands curling about her hips, his thumbs sneaking up under her shirt to lightly tease the bare flesh.

"It all comes back to blood," she grimaced, turning her head away in disgust. She barely registered his growl before his hands tightened, pulling her to the edge of the chair, and he was looming above her.

"Blood," he growled against her lips, causing her to gasp. "Is a sacred thing, Willow. It's stronger and more powerful than you could ever imagine."

Trembling, she brought her hand up to his face, the back of her fingers dragging lightly over his high cheeks and dropping down to his lips. With a languid stroke, his hand moved along her arm, his fingers entwining with hers and he brought two of their fingers to his mouth to suckle on. Willow watched, hypnotized by the sight of their fingers disappearing into his mouth, the feel of his tongue swirling about the sensitive tips, the gentle suction as he pulled the fingers in deeper.

Spike was, as always, in complete control at that moment and Willow knew she would follow him. Just as she had before, whether in their dances or the games he played, she may have made the choices but he'd ultimately led her in the direction, shown her the options and then stepped back and waited, just as he was now. Her gaze left his mouth as her free hand caressed his neck, her thumb running over a long dead pulse point. She could feel her blood calling for his again, it was like a longing and before she was even conscious of the act she leant down and pressed her lips to his throat, sucking in the rhythm he'd set with their fingers.

And that was all there was, Spike and Willow, as far as they were concerned the rest of the world no longer existed. With a soft moan of confusion, Willow left a delicate trail of kisses along his neck until she found his ear.

"I don't want to be a vampire..."

"Your choice," he whispered as he pulled their fingers from his mouth, dragging her hand down to rest against his chest. Willow closed her eyes, knowing it was all an illusion, that there was no such thing as her choice.

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing more than what you've already given me," Spike whispered against her lips. "And everything you're willing to give..."

Their mouths met, lips softly brushing together and opening. The tip of his tongue caressed her lips, tiny licks that tickled and tantalized, until she was pulling him in closer with a firm hold on the back of his head. Willow moaned as his fist tangled in her hair, tilting her head back and her tongue swept along the underside of his, willing inviting him into her mouth. An invitation Spike eagerly accepted, his tongue delving into the sweet warm cavern of her mouth as his arm wrapped about her waist to crush her against him.

The kiss should have been enough, should have sated the uncertainty. But it wasn't, wasn't enough for Spike and it certainly wasn't enough for Willow. She clawed at his back, pulling the silk shirt down and he willingly released her to pull it free, breaking the kiss momentarily to yank his black t-shirt over his head. The cotton shirt had barely hit the floor before their mouths were melding together again. There was no hesitation, no indecision, just a ravenous ardor as hands wandered.

It was Willow who first broke away, tearing her lips free to bite and kiss along his jaw line. Her fingers dragged lightly over the flesh she'd marked with her lips, following the path down. Soft, featherlike strokes that were barely believable, until she bit his shoulder, then her fingers dug into his back, pulling him in close. The bite wasn't hard enough to break skin, it wasn't meant to be, it was done purely to tempt the demon and it worked. She could feel his face change against her throat and his hold tightened. Wrapping one of her legs around his thigh, she savagely bit down harder and Spike growled, his fist tangling in her hair and tilting her head to the side, baring her throat even more. Her fingers dug into his back and Willow waited for the inevitable moment where his fangs would penetrate her throat, for that first bite.

But it never came.

Spike's hold changed and he released her hair, his arms shifting to cradle her back as he kissed his way down her throat, nipping and sucking at the sensitive spots. His chin rubbed against the cotton of her top and he dropped his mouth down to the material, burying his nose in the fabric, inhaling her scent. He could feel her heart pounding beneath his lips, a constant beat that increased as he mouthed the flesh between her breasts. Nails dug into the back of his neck as she arched up, urging him closer and he growled in frustration at the material that covered her flesh. One hand left her back and he pulled away, his fingers curled about the neckline of her top and in one fast and furious action the shirt was torn away. The lacy bra she wore soon followed suite and his mouth closed around one rosebud nipple while his free hand caressed the soft swell of her other breast. Spike was on his knees, worshipping his Queen in the only way he felt he could.

The ridges of his face brushed against her skin and Willow groaned as fangs dragged over her hard nipple. She shifted again, wrapping her arms about him and bending over as he continued to kiss her breasts. Her mouth went to his throat, nipping and kissing, while her fingers ran over his back and dug into his scalp. As her lips closed around the flesh beneath his ear, she bit down and was rewarded by his fangs scraping across the swell of her breast.

"Yes," she cried out, throwing her head back and offering him her breast, her fingers holding on tight to his hair. Glancing down, she took a deep startled breath as she found his golden eyes firmly fixed on her. It was a tentative moment and he kissed the side of her breast, his fangs scraping across the rounded swell of flesh. Bringing her free hand up, she caressed the side of his face. "Yes."

It wasn't a passionate cry this time, it was a softly whispered acquiescence. Tightening his hold, Spike pulled her closer. His tongue swept across her skin before his fangs sank in deep, puncturing the flesh, drawing blood.

Willow cried out in pain, arching up into his mouth and gasping for breath, her nails digging into his flesh. The pain was only brief, a moment of agony before a strange sort of bliss, the feel of his mouth sucking rhythmically against her breast and his hands pulling at her, his fingers stroking her flesh as he fed. Her head fell forward and she watched him, his eyes half closed in ecstasy and the muscles in his neck and jaw flexing as he suckled. Muscles that were suddenly moving beneath her lips as she kissed his throat, her lips skimming over his flesh, following the line of muscle down and across to his shoulder and she bit him.

Spike broke away from her breast, throwing his head back and he roared, her blood staining his lips.

***

The roar echoed down the passage and Dru glanced up from the fresh heart she held in her hands. It was a sound that she hadn't heard for the longest of times, a sound of pure rage and she smiled, raising her fingers to her mouth to lick away the blood that stained them. The feral howl died off as the noise of timber splintering and plaster shattering eclipsed everything and then there was only the whimpering. Someone gurgling, choking on blood, Dru could smell it. Stale blood though, the blood of a vampire. Another wall shattered somewhere in the house and she carefully placed her newly acquired heart with the rest of her collection.

"Shhhh," she whispered to them, holding a single finger to her lips. Once she was certain that the hearts were no longer beating and making a dreadful racket, she turned and followed the sounds of carnage. The further she went down the passage, the bloodier it became. By the time she reached the vestibule, the hem on her skirt was weighed down with stagnant blood. But the vestibule made her eyes widen in delight, it was an exquisite artwork of pain and torture. The walls, or rather the parts that were left, were painted in blood, abstract tales of agony, while the floor was coated in grime and in the middle of it all stood one vampire.

"Daddy," vacant blue eyes perused the bloodied mess of the entrance hall and she smiled, the white of her teeth gleaming in sharp contrast to the ruby redness of her lips as her eyes settled on the dark haired vampire before her. "You've come home at last."