In His Shadow

by Night Nymph

Chapter 4: Decisions

The wooden crypt door felt cool beneath Tara’s tentative touch, a consequence of the late afternoon hour and a cloudy sky.  As barriers went, it appeared ordinary enough, but inside lay something she wasn’t sure she could face just yet. She’d had enough emotional upheaval in the last few months to last her a lifetime, and this wouldn’t be easy, but the situation couldn’t be avoided any longer. Spike had to know what she’d found.

Rubbing at her bloodshot eyes and sighing, she tried to muster up some courage in her tired body. The memory of the vampire’s expression as he had left the shop did nothing to ease her feelings of apprehension, and neither did the fact that the night before, she’d only managed to snatch about a half hour of sleep. Thinking about it, Tara supposed that both she and the grimoire she had unwittingly drooled on during her nap would’ve been better off if she’d skipped the nap entirely.

Raking a hand through her disheveled hair, Tara took a deep breath and knocked. She jumped when the door flew open only a second later to reveal Spike already in vamp face and brandishing a nasty-looking knife.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said. His vampire features melted back to human, and he stepped aside to let her enter. “What the hell you knocking for anyway? No one else does.” Spike looked thoughtful before amending his statement. “‘Cept Clem, but his knock sounds nothin’ like yours.”

“W-who wouldn’t knock? It’s only polite.”

Spike snorted. “Well, first off, demons generally aren’t polite. And the others, well they don’t feel the need to be. Harris and Buffy’d never consider it, and Nibblet, well, she and I are maybe too familiar to bother. Though can’t say she’s visited me much as of late. Probably for the best as Big Sis wouldn’t approve and most likely would take it out on my hide.”

He gestured to his chair, offering it to her, before seating himself on the stone sarcophagus.

Tara noted that the vampire seemed fairly coherent and calm now, but the slight odor of alcohol and the hint of redness around the eyes suggested recent inebriation, lack of sleep, or both. A fresh bruise marked his jaw, likely evidence of venting his rage on the demon population. In short, he looked as bad as she felt.

Watching him look her over, Tara guessed he was making similar observations about her.

“You look a bit knackered, Glinda. You okay?”

Tara decided she might as well dive in before she lost her nerve. “A-actually no, Spike. I didn’t sleep much, a-and I have something to tell you.”

She saw panic flash in his eyes and his body stiffened. “What now, something happen to Buffy, or the Bit?”

“No. No,” Tara hurriedly assured him. “It’s just - I brought this.”

She moved the book bag hanging on her shoulder to her lap and started rummaging in it. The action provided a good excuse to avert her eyes, and her hair falling in front of her face added extra camouflage. After a little digging, she removed a pad of paper and the parchment containing Spike’s spell. Her hands fumbled a little.

“Not going to hurt you, luv,” Spike told her. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.” As if he thought that might suggest he was anything less than evil, he added, “’Cos, I maybe need your help.” He sniffed to put the proper emphasis on it.

Tara tried not to smile. Spike was so uncomfortable with appearing even a little nice that his attempts to overcompensate were often obvious. She took a breath and hurried on. “About that. Um, Spike, where did you get this spell?” She indicated the parchment by holding it up.

“A demon bloke gave it to me after I did him a favor. Supposedly some expert on dimensional travel. I went to see him to find out what was wrong with Buffy, since her resurrection.” The last word came out slowly and deliberately.

“Oh, nothing. I mean, it was just a small change in her cellular make-up,” she said.

“Yeah. Found that out after I went through almost two weeks of hell to get the sodding answer. Would’a been nice if someone kept me in the loop about these things.”

“I don’t think Buffy wanted anyone to know. They might have asked how she found out she was different, and then …”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “What did she tell you?”

Tara looked down. “She t-told me …”

“That I hit her and the chip didn’t go off,” he finished impatiently. “Likely she didn’t tell you why I hit her.” He fixed a gaze on her. “She told you the rest, too, didn’t she?”

Tara nodded softly. “About you and her.”

Spike snorted. “Should’ve figured as much after the party.” He readjusted himself on the sarcophagus, trying to adopt a more casual position. “Yeah, well, that’s over now. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to see her happy, though. So I need your help.” He pointed to the spell. “I want you to help me do this for her.”

“I can’t,” Tara said.

“Why not? I mean, sure, you’re not Red, but I know you’re a powerful witch in your own right. More so than I think you let on, and this will be a good thing.”

“T-that’s just it,” she interrupted him. “It looks like a good thing, but it’s... flawed.”

“Flawed?” Spike’s brows knitted, his upper lip curling in confusion as Tara nodded.

“See here.” Taking the pad of paper, she pointed to a translated section before passing it to him. “Where it talks about the soul and the demon being joined. It leaves room open for the demon to take over. It could be just a temporary thing, but I can’t be sure, and even if it was temporary...”

Spike frowned at her hesitation. “A little Angelus is a very bad thing,” he finished for her, his tone showing that he understood the danger. “Well, can’t we fix it? I mean, revise the spell a little?” He handed the pad back to her.

“I thought of that, but I don’t think it’s possible. I think it’s a necessary part of keeping the soul and the demon together in the same body.”

“Well, if it’s only temporary, we could always, I dunno, restrain him until it passes,” Spike suggested.

“That’s the thing. I can’t be sure that it’s only temporary. Even if his soul were to have control most of the time, this spell lets the demon ‘out of the cage’ so to speak. In a moment of weakness…”

“It could take over.”

Her eyes wide, Tara nodded.

Spike exhaled bitterly. “I bet Gnash knew this all along. Bloody bastard.” A frown creased his brow for a moment, and then his expression became resolute. “Well, I’m not giving up on this, there’s got to be a way to…” He put up a hand. “Give us a minute to think, will you, love?”

Tara waited a moment, watching Spike’s anxious expression as he tried work a way around the problem. She could only imagine what he was thinking.

“W-we can’t just get rid of Angelus,” she finally said.

He nodded. “Right, cuz then Angel’s body would just be dead without a demon to keep it undead, but...” Spike’s eyes suddenly grew large, and his lips parted slightly. “Does it have to be Angelus?”

“I - I don’t understand.”

“The demon, the demon inside. Does it have to be Angelus?”

Tara frowned, trying to understand where he was going with this. “I - I suppose another vampire could animate him, but any demon would likely be a bad thing.”

Leaning towards her, Spike smiled like someone who’d come up with the most brilliant idea of his life. “Not just any demon, love. Me.”

*********

“Buffy! Buffy come look at this!” Dawn called out from the living room.

Walking in from the dining room where she and Willow had spent all afternoon trying to make sense of the video feeds, Buffy looked at the TV. Her sister was pointing to the local news on the screen.

“What is it?”

The reporter was broadcasting from the carnival near Sunnydale, the camera capturing her perfect smile and hair against the backdrop of some heavy-duty destruction.

“That doesn’t look normal,” Dawn observed.

“No, it doesn’t.” Both their mouths dropped opened as the screen showed pictures of two of the captured suspects. “Oh, my.”

“Isn’t that…”

“Yes,” Buffy answered before Dawn even finished. “But noWarren. They didn’t get Warren, and if that jerk, what’s-his-name, called up some demon to help them pull this off, it could still be around.  And without anyone to control it…”

“But, I mean, wouldn’t Warren get rid of it?” Dawn asked, obviously concerned at a demon on the loose that could cause so much destruction.

“I wouldn’t trust Warren to care. He’d be thrilled to see me have to chase this thing all over town. Remember the last time?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Dawn said.

Turning to Willow, who had joined them for the last part of the broadcast, Buffy ran a hand distractedly through her hair. “I have to get down to the police station and find out what they called up. And I so have to kick their asses.”

“Not sure the police will let ya, but you can always threaten. You’re good at that. Just be careful, Buffy,” Willow said, “in case that demon’s around. And while you’re gone, I’ll try a little surveillance to see if I can come up with anything else helpful.”

Buffy shook her head. “You better hold off on that. Now that Warren’s the only one left, he’ll probably be extra jumpy. He might’ve even left town by now. I’ll see if the rest of the trio is ready to spill the beans on what his plans might be. And you,” she said to Dawn, “listen to Willow and stay out of trouble. If there’s a demon loose, I don’t want you finding it.”

“Like I’d go looking for…” Dawn began, but stopped when she saw her sister giving her the patented Look of Deadly Seriousness that allowed no argument.

“Hey, and they won’t know that I’m magic free,” Willow said with a mischievous smile. “You can always threaten that I’d turn them into toads.”

Grabbing a light jacket, Buffy gave Willow an amused glance. “Sometimes I wonder about you, Will.”

Her friend grinned. “It’s good to keep them guessing.”

“Hmm,” Buffy said good-naturedly, “I’m just glad you’re on our side,” and closing the door, she headed downtown to bully some nerds.

*********

The witch was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slack-jawed in disbelief. Maybe I am crazy, Spike thought. But somehow it seemed the perfect solution to all his problems.

The entire time he’d been talking to Tara, his dream of earlier that day had lurked at the corners of his thoughts.  Even before she’d told him of the problem with the spell, he’d been wondering what he was going to do. He’d even considered having Tara, or in a pinch, Gnash, send him to another dimension, just to make sure there was no way he could ever harm Buffy. Staying away voluntarily wasn’t an option; he’d return like a moth to a flame. But this was better. Not only would Buffy be safe from him with Angel’s soul to keep him in check, he’d still be able to be with her, still be able to love her. And he’d have somewhere to belong.

Tara’s voice brought him back to the present situation. “S-spike that’s crazy. I mean, even if we can find a way to do it, you realize what would happen to you, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I’d be inside Angel’s head, I guess.”

“In the background,” she told him solemnly. “And you’ll likely suffer terrible guilt, Spike. You can’t understand what that will mean right now, but…”

“It’ll be bloody awful,” he agreed. “But it can’t be worse than my original idea.”

Tara smiled wryly. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Was gonna have you send me away,” he explained. “To a different dimension.”

“Why would you? I mean, what could be so bad that…”

Spike figured she must have seen his face fall, to make her stop so abruptly. His gaze dropped to his lap. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt her,” he admitted, and try as he might, he couldn’t keep his voice from breaking a little.

Tara nodded slowly, and Spike was both relieved and hurt that she accepted his explanation so readily, but he expected it. Tara, of all people, would know what he was, and what he was capable of. She had this instinct he had seen in few others. Despite all that, she’d never been unkind to him.

“You’ve tried,” she told him, her tone softening the blow. “You’ve done a lot of good, Spike, and I know you love her. And the fact that you are even considering this now, it says so much.”

Spike smiled at her sadly. “But there’s only so much I can do. I’m still a vampire. No matter how much I might try to deny it.”

Tara smiled back, and as she looked into his eyes, Spike knew she was reading him. For a moment, he thought to resist, but he didn’t avert his gaze from her warm eyes. He needed her, and he needed her trust.

She frowned curiously. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

Nodding, he replied, “Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. After I get some sleep,” she added when he straightened and looked hopefully at her.

“You really do look awful, love,” he told her teasingly.

“Thanks, and do you want to be the pot or the kettle?” she joked back.

“Kettle, thanks, being British and all.” He cleared his throat. “Um, you want to sleep here, instead of having to go? ‘Cept I don’t have a bed anymore. It had an unfortunate accident.”

“Accident?”

“Grenades. Beds aren’t explosion-proof. Go figure.”

“Most furniture isn’t. Though, in Sunnydale, you’d think someone would have thought to make some.”

“That’d mean they’d have to actually have a clue, love. Denial’s too nice a place. I know from personal experience.”

“I really will try to do this for you, Spike.” And the look she gave him was one of genuine concern.

Spike nodded, letting his gratitude show in his face rather than with words. He knew that would mean more to her anyway. She’d been hurt enough by words to distrust them by now.

“And thanks for the offer to stay, but I’ll need more books anyway.”

“And you’ll sleep better at home. I know I do.”

He hopped off the sarcophagus and crossed to the door. As he opened it, he looked at her. “You’ll let me know, right? As soon as you find something?” He didn’t say “if.” He had every confidence that she would.

“As soon as I find something,” she assured him.

Spike watched her as she walked into the waning sunlight. He’d always liked the woman - as much as he could like someone who wasn’t Buffy or Dawn, anyway - but he’d never had more affection for the witch than he did at this moment. His gaze following her, Spike waited until she disappeared into the growing shadows, and then he closed the door.

Chapter 5: Perfect

The red digital display on her bedside clock read 8:28. Some part of Tara’s mind enjoyed the symmetry of that. The rest was troubled. Pulling the covers aside in one swift motion, she resigned herself to getting no more sleep this evening. She padded into the bathroom, squinting when she turned on the light. As she stared at her reflection, she noticed that the crease between her brows didn’t lessen after her eyes had adjusted to the harsh glare.  Her frown furthered the effect.

Four hours of sleep may not have been enough for her tired body, but it did wonders for her sense of reason. Had she really agreed to help Spike? Maybe her lack of sleep and the fact that he looked so hurt and lost had swayed her, but now that she’d slept on it, she had so many misgivings. This spell could be dangerous on so many levels. What if she never found a way to help him defeat Angelus and take his place? What if Angel didn’t want this to happen? What if something went really wrong and they called up hell on earth? Of course, there was still a chance she wouldn’t find anything at all, in which case she’d be able to bow out gracefully. Or maybe she could still talk him out of it.

Sighing, she turned on the water in the shower and shed her nightshirt. She would have to go back to Spike’s crypt and speak with him. But first she would do as she had promised and look for a spell. Somehow, she felt this visit to see Spike might be even harder than the last. The anger and disappointment he was sure to feel would be difficult to watch. Stepping into the shower, Tara wrapped her arms around her body, and despite the warmth of the spray, she shivered.

*********

Spike watched Willow leave the house on Revello Drive, her voice reminding Dawn to be careful or Buffy would kill them both when she returned.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so,” she called as she walked down the driveway. A book bag hung over her shoulder, and Spike decided she must be going somewhere to research or going to class.

He smiled. Perfect. He felt much better after a few hours of sleep - mercifully, of the dreamless variety - and now he would hopefully have a chance to spend some time with his Nibblet without interruptions. He headed quietly for the back door.

Dawn heard Spike come through the kitchen door in his usual manner just as she was pouring herself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. She stifled a squeak, more unnerved by getting caught with the less-than-grown-up cereal than by the vampire’s entrance.

“Hey, Spike. What’cha doing here?”

“Saving you from a culinary disaster, looks like. You’re not planning on that for dinner, are you?”

“Oh, no. Already had dinner. Yup. This is just dessert.”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl, and Spike raised an eyebrow at her in response. “Unless my vampire hearing’s off, that doesn’t exactly sound like a full stomach. Here, let me see what we’ve got.”

“You don’t have to...” Dawn began, but she trailed off, fascinated, as he sauntered over to the cabinets and started opening them at random. After finding the stash of canned goods, he started digging, finally pulling out a red-and-white-labeled can like it was a prize.

“Brilliant,” he proclaimed, holding the can up for her inspection.

“Tomato soup?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, his expression and tone insinuating “duh,” before he placed it on the kitchen island. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a gallon of milk. “Cream of tomato soup. Oh, and look!” A package of cheese slices plopped on the counter next to the milk, followed soon by a stick of margarine and a loaf of bread.

Crossing her arms and smirking in amusement, Dawn watched Spike glide around the kitchen, pulling out a pot, a pan, a spatula, and then yet another package from the cupboard.

“And oyster crackers. These are almost as good as Weetabix. Well, actually better for tomato soup.”

“Do all vampires get this excited about food?” she asked him.

“Nah, most don’t have my good taste. But how could anyone not love tomato soup and grilled cheese? That would be, well, uncivilized.” He smirked at her as he added a dab of margarine to the pan and put it on the stove.

Grudgingly, Dawn did have to admit it sounded a whole lot better than cold Cocoa Puffs. And a few moments later, as the smell of grilled bread, melting cheese, and tomato soup started to fill the kitchen, she was nearly drooling in anticipation. As a distraction, she busied herself with setting the island with bowls, plates, and spoons.

She reached for two glasses. “And what, O culinary genius, do we drink with this masterpiece?”

Spike tilted his head, thinking. “Well, either milk or water, I suppose, would be best. Don’t want it to clash with the taste of the soup and sandwich, but I suppose root beer would be okay, too.”

“Root beer?” Dawn almost laughed, but managed to hide her amusement. It might not have mattered too much anyway, because the vampire seemed to be lost in fond memory.

“’Course, it’s best if it’s a root beer float. With lots of ice cream, so it sticks out the top like a little cloud. Then you can eat it some before mixing it up all nice and frothy-like and get the foam on your face.”

She did start laughing then, and Spike snapped out of his reverie and glared at her as if his manhood had been questioned.

“Hey, now! Nothing wrong with a root beer float.” Sighing irritably, he pointed at her tumbler. “Just pick out a bloody beverage, Bit, and park yourself. It’s almost done.” He quickly busied himself with his cooking, and Dawn was sure that if vampires could blush, he would have been pink.

Filling her glass with milk, she sat down as Spike placed her grilled cheese on the plate and poured the soup in her bowl. He did the same for himself before finding a beer in the fridge and casually popping the cap with his thumb. He put it next to his dinner with a decisive bang, as if to prove it was a manly drink. A huge grin formed on Dawn’s face as she watched him.

“I’m sure there’s some root beer…”

“Eat!” Spike told her, attempting to maintain a stern face. He grabbed a huge handful of crackers and dropped them into his bowl of soup, and then did the same for hers.

Dawn’s first bite of grilled bread and melted cheese elicited a contented moan. She looked at Spike watching her intently.

“It’s perfect.”

It is perfect, Spike thought. This whole bloody thing. God, I’m gonna miss her. Gazing across the counter into those big blue eyes, he knew for certain that this was why he came here, to have one more night with his Dawn.

“You know what would make it even more perfect?” Dawn’s words were muffled by her mouthful of crackers and soup; and, raising an eyebrow at her, Spike waited for her to continue. She chewed and swallowed before saying, “If you’d tell me one of your stories.”

Spike frowned. “Not sure Sis would approve, Bit.”

“Oh, come on. There’s got to be one you can tell me. Something in a PG-13?”

Spike thought for a moment, and suddenly it came to him. It was the perfect story for the perfect night. Fate must be giving this to him, so he would take it.

“Did I ever tell you ‘bout the time I helped save your sis from the Lei-ach Demons?”

Dawn shook her head, face full of interest. “No. When was this?”

“Well, you remember that time Tara’s family came to town? Hadn’t even been a few weeks since my last attempt to get this sodding chip out.”

“Yeah, I remember. You came in after it was all over, like a big no help at all.”

“Wrong,” Spike said, emphasizing the point with a motion of his spoon at her. “I was very helpful. Which is what I’m gonna tell you about.”

“Did you love Buffy yet?”

Despite himself, Spike flinched. “Now, are you gonna let me tell my part of it or what?”

“Okay,” she said, but then her eyes glittered with mischief, and little warning bells went off in Spike’s brain. “But first I wanna hear a story from the old days.” Her eyes gleamed with an anticipation Spike should’ve found disturbing, but instead made him almost proud. “You know, like the one with the girl in the coal bin.”

Spike put on what he hoped was a reproving look. “Now you know Buffy’d skewer me with the nearest wooden object if she caught me telling you something like that.”

A sly look came over Dawn’s face. “Scared?”

He sniffed. Little minx. “’course not. Just, we should respect Big Sis’ wishes is all.”

“Please, please, please,” Dawn said, giving her patented, innocent Puppy Dog Eyes.

Spike melted like the cheese in his sandwich. Besides, Buffy wouldn’t be back anytime soon. Despite himself, he smiled with the satisfaction that came from doing something he knew he shouldn’t do but was reasonably sure he could get away with. “Well, there was this one time in London. Angelus wanted to go see a play…”

*********

“Warren’s not going to leave us here. I just know it,” Andrew insisted for about the tenth time.

Gazing at his friend’s earnest face, Jonathan gave up on reasoning with him anymore. If it hadn’t worked the first nine times... Well, at least Andrew has hope, Jonathan mused, as he took stock of the small, bleak cell. Rubbing the back of his aching neck, he felt as if he would die of boredom, or anxiety, or maybe a combination of the two. Is that even possible?

He sighed. “Well, I wish someone would come for us, but I’m not…”

A sound from the window startled him, and Andrew turned wide eyes his way, words tumbling out of his mouth in a nervous rush. “You dorkhead, you’re not supposed to say stuff like that. Now something is coming for us, I just know it. It’s like that episode of…”

With a loud crunch, the window frame broke in the center, the glass creating a spider web pattern of cracks. The guards had to have heard that, right? Jonathan thought. Jumping up, he grabbed the bars and tried to look towards the door at the end of the hallway where the station’s main desk lay, but no one seemed to be coming. Another crunch and a glimpse of what looked like a heavy object covered with material bashing into the window sent Andrew grabbing for his arm, flinching as the glass fragments started to crumble away. Frightened as he was for the moment, Jonathan didn’t mind Andrew’s proximity, but maybe he’d complain later. Right now he was too busy being scared out of his wits. Reaching through the now cleared window pane, a pair of hands gripped the bars and bent them. The hands looked human enough, but...

“Vampire?” Andrew almost squeaked.

“Don’t be an idiot. Why would a vampire go to all this trouble?” Jonathan asked.

“If it was as pissed off as I was it might,” said a familiar voice.

Squeezing herself through the opening she’d created in the bars, Buffy dropped gracefully to the floor of the cell. Rubbing her chafed hands on the seat of her slacks, she stepped towards them, her blazing eyes locked with his.

Why is she looking at me? Jonathan thought.

“It’s the Slayer,” Andrew said quite unnecessarily and huddled closer to him.

In response, Buffy raised her eyebrows in an incredulous look. “Could you two be any more pathetic?”

Disengaging himself from Andrew’s grasp, Jonathan tried to regain some semblance of dignity. “What do you want, Buffy?” He managed to say it without his voice faltering, but his moment of confidence was fleeting as she moved closer, the menace in her face increasing.

Her hands fisted at her sides. “What did you call up last night? What monster did you summon just so you could grab some unearned cash?” She directed the last to Andrew, and he quailed in fear.

“N-nothing. What monster?” Andrew asked.

“I saw the havoc you left behind at the carnival. They had footage on the news. So don’t try to deny…’

Jonathan interrupted her quickly. “That was no monster. It was Warren.”

Hissing at him, Andrew drew back his fist and hit his arm hard. “Dude, that’s so not cool! You shouldn’t have told her that. Now she’ll go after him.”

Jonathan tried to pull himself up straight and look menacing but conceded that the effect was likely ruined by his extreme lack of height. “Yeah, I should’ve. I should’ve told her a long time ago. I know you don’t believe this right now, but Warren has gone too far. He has to be stopped.” Turning to Buffy, he met her scathing gaze with as much confidence as he could muster. “But it might not be that easy. He has these orbs we got that make him super strong. That’s how he was able to tear things up.”

Buffy crossed her arms and frowned. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

“No way. He’ll beat you to a pulp,” Andrew said, unable to keep the hint of pride from his voice.

Throwing him a disgusted look, Jonathan turned back to Buffy.  “The orbs will be somewhere on him. You’ll have to find them and smash them. That’ll make him normal again.” He watched Buffy studying him and watched her expression soften. Somehow he knew it was all he would get in way of thanks.

She nodded slightly. “You both better hope I get to him before he hurts someone else,” she warned, before spinning and heading swiftly for the window.

“That’s it. That’s all we get?” Andrew asked.

Turning back to them, Buffy shot Andrew a questioning look. “What? You want me to pound you, too? Come a little closer.” She smiled with a cold amusement that made Jonathan a little queasy.

“No, that’s…” Andrew didn’t bother to finish. Buffy had already turned away and leaped for the window. Before they even had time to think of a proper retort, she was gone.

*********

“And then I punch her in the nose,” Spike said, punctuating it with a fist motion.

“Well, that was mean,” Dawn remarked around a mouthful of grilled cheese crust.

“Hey now, it hurt me, too. And anyway, it proved she wasn’t part demon, didn’t it? ‘Sides, I’d already saved Buffy from the Lei-ach Demon,” he explained as if that had filled his quota of good for that day and then some. Sitting back on his stool, he looked quite proud of himself.

“By cracking open the demon’s skull with that big knife and splattering his blood and brains all over the training room wall?” Dawn asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “And hi, Tara!” she added enthusiastically, waving at her.

Her hand still on the doorknob, Tara smiled back and had to bite her lip as Spike turned to see her standing on the threshold. His expression was one of almost comic horror.

“I didn’t bloody tell her that. I swear!”

He turned back to Dawn to give her what Tara supposed was a scathing look, but the younger Summers dismissed it immediately as the empty threat it was, being long since immune to Spike’s threatening tirades. Tara had always been impressed with Dawn’s ability to stand up to the vampire, no matter how elaborate he made his intimidation.

“I believe you,” she assured him. Glancing at the bowls and plates on the island, her expression changed to one of chagrin. “O-oh. Didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner. I was just…”

“I think we’re done,” Spike told her. “Or I could make some more if you’re hungry?”

“No, thanks. I ate.” She smiled shyly. “Though I have to say, yours smells better.”

“Cream of tomato soup and grilled cheese,” Dawn announced as if it were the best meal imaginable, “It was great, Tara. Although apparently it might’ve been even better with a root bee… Ah! No, Spike, stop!”

Smiling indulgently, Tara watched as the vampire jumped off his stool and chased a squealing Dawn into the living room where she ran behind the couch to grab a pillow like a shield.

His smirk was one of exaggerated menace and perhaps a little bit of pride that Tara didn’t want to think about. “Can it, Bit, or I’m telling Buffy ‘bout the time you and your little friend Terry snuck into the graveyard, and …”

Dawn’s eyes widened with the familiar horror of a teenager threatened with mortification. “Okay, okay, Spike. I won’t say it. I promise.”

Spike nodded in satisfaction. “You better not, or else -” Tara supposed he sensed her moving into the living room, because he stopped, and turned to meet her eyes sheepishly. “Um, right. You looking for Red? She’ll be back soon, I suppose.”

“Actually, I just stopped by to pick up some books I left here. Then I’m on my way to the shop to research.”

“Right. Um, you need my help?”

Dawn perked up immediately, practically bouncing on the couch arm she had commandeered as a chair. “Ooh, can I help? Please, please, please,” she begged. Turning to look at her, Tara caught the Puppy Dog Eyes full force and shot a look at Spike.

His eyes flickered in response. “Well, you might’ve, but I think it’s a school night. ‘Sides, I did the cooking. That means you get the dishes,” he told her.

“What? Wait, no fair.”

“I don’t know. Sounds fair to me.” Tara cocked her head, and Dawn’s disappointment turned to resigned irritation.

She glared at the vampire. “Oh, I’m so gonna get you back for this.”

“Terry and the graveyard,” he reminded her with smug glee. “Besides, I think I owe you one for that little stunt you pulled in there earlier.” He jerked a thumb towards the kitchen and raised his eyebrows at her.

The teen smirked. “It was so worth it. You should’ve seen the look on your face when you saw Tara there.” Giggling, she avoided Spike’s grasp as she headed for the kitchen to clean up.

“And you behave until Willow gets back. And no sneaking out,” Spike called into the kitchen.

“As if I’d have the time,” Dawn called back. “You must be the messiest cook on Earth. How many dishes does it take to make soup and sandwiches?”

Listening to the exchange, Tara gathered the books she needed from the dining room and stuffed them into her book bag. She came back in time for Spike to throw her a knowing look.

“Enough to keep her busy and out of trouble.” Then his expression became more serious. “You sure you don’t mind if I come with you? Or would you rather research alone?”

“Y-you can come,” she told him. “This does concern you.” And maybe you can see why we can’t do this after all, she thought.

Spike nodded once. He glanced towards the kitchen with a sad smile, and Tara knew what he was probably thinking. If there were nothing else in this world he would miss if the “change” took place, it would be Dawn.

Turning, he opened the door for her, and with a swirl of his leather duster, they stepped out into the dark night.

Chapter 6: Concessions

Spike shifted in the passenger seat, trying to keep his eyes on the road ahead and wishing that he was the one driving right now. It would at least have given him something else to focus on besides the nervous woman beside him, and Tara would have been hard for any vampire to ignore. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and a small but discernable amount of perspiration gathered on her forehead. Even the noisy thrum of the engine couldn’t mask the quickening beat of her heart or the forced control of her breathing. Suppressing a growl of frustration, Spike silently fumed. I told the girl I wouldn’t hurt her, so what is she so damned jumpy for?

Thankfully and before too long, the familiar storefront of the Magic Box was glowing in the headlights. Spike was out of the door and stalking across the parking lot before the car had even come to a full stop. By the time Tara reached him, Spike was glowering impatiently by the back entrance to the shop. She unlocked the door with unsteady hands, but before she could enter, he stepped to the threshold and asked, “Okay, now, what’s wrong?”

She froze, sensing his annoyance and barely suppressed anger. Her breath quickened again, and she ducked her head, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. “N-nothing. It’s f-fine.” But she didn’t try to brush past him into the store.

Spike raised an incredulous eyebrow. Don’t they know by now that I can read them more easily than that? Dipping his head to look into her face, he caught sight of her expression, and he knew. Drawing himself up again, he clenched his teeth and sucked in his cheeks slightly. “You’re having second thoughts.” His eyes flashed amber in the dim glow of the streetlamp, and Tara flinched.

Spike felt his grip on the doorframe tighten dangerously. Her startled expression and obvious desire for flight gave him a guilty thrill as she shook her head, a denial dead on her dry lips.

“Go ahead on home to your bird, why don’t you, and snuggle in your nice warm bed. No need to worry about keeping your word.” His tone wasn’t very convincing, but he sniffed and tossed his head slightly in forced bravado in an attempt to sell it. “It’s not like you’re the only person who can help, after all.”

A distant flicker of light inside the shop caught his attention momentarily, and realizing that perhaps he wasn’t so wrong after all, he smiled coldly. “Someone else here I can see who might be a bit more willing to lend a hand.” His voice was harsh, biting back like a wounded animal; and ignoring Tara’s anguished expression, he pushed past her before he lost his resolve.

Damn it, Tara thought as she followed him into the shop and closed the door. I wasn’t ready. I wanted more time to prepare before I told him. To explain why. Craning her neck, she peered after him, trying to see where he’d gone and desperately trying to come up with the right words to say. She knew that she’d better think of something, because he looked pretty confident he could get help elsewhere, and that would likely not be of the good. And then the significance of the shop lights dawned on her. Anya. Oh, definitely not of the good, Tara thought, and she ran a hand through her wind-tangled hair.

No one had seen much of Anya after the incident at the wedding. Tara wasn’t sure what to expect from the jilted ex-vengeance demon, but she was certain that her mood would not be of the fluffy kitten variety. Likely more along the lines of… She didn’t even like to think words of that nature. And she was sure that exercising caution would not be high on Anya’s list of priorities right now. If Spike worked his charm, Tara knew she was more than likely to be swayed, and she urged herself into action.

Even now, as she entered the shop proper, she could hear Spike’s smooth voice as he leaned across the counter towards a primly dressed Anya. At times like this, Tara could see how Buffy was taken with the vampire. Although this was mostly an act, she could imagine how effective his charms would be when genuine feelings were behind them.

Anya, however, had over a thousand years of experience with men of all varieties. “And this would benefit me how?” Tara heard her saying. And a bottom line practicality with a no-nonsense attitude to match, the witch thought admiringly.

Smiling winningly, Spike responded. “Because Xander will hate the idea, love. Only person he hates more than me is Angel. You help me do this, and Angel will likely be around more often to drive him ‘round the bend.”

Anya’s eyes glowed. “Oh, I like the sound of that. No one else seems to think Xander deserves any retribution for what he did to me.”

“I do, luv. Doesn’t know how good he had it with you.”

“Thank you. Glad someone sees that. But why would you want to do this?”

Tara almost sighed in relief. Spike wouldn’t want to explain this to Anya in any detail.

“Does it really matter why I want this, as long as Xander will hate it?”

Anya stood up straight and her face brightened. “You’re right. Why should I care as long as we both get what we want?”

Okay, Tara thought, so Anya’s practicality has a decided downside.

The vengeance demon leaned in conspiratorially towards Spike. “I have my powers back, you know. You could make a wish.”

“No!” Tara interrupted.

They both turned to her, Anya more startled than Spike by her outburst.

“D-don’t do it that way.” Tara’s mind was racing along with her heart. “Vengeance wishes are t-too unpredictable.”

“Unpredictable?” Anya remarked, obviously offended.

“W-willow told me what happened with Cordelia’s wish. I’m sure that wasn’t what she had in mind.”

“I gave Cordelia exactly what she wished for,” Anya defended herself. She crossed her arms. “She said she wished that Buffy had never come to Sunnydale, so that’s what I made happen.”

Spike’s eyes widened with interest, but he didn’t interrupt the women’s discussion.

Tara looked at the ex-vengeance demon incredulously. “W-willow was a vampire. Xander, too. You can’t tell me that’s what Cordelia wanted to happen.”

Anya shrugged. “It was her wish.”

Spike looked like his curiosity finally got the better of him. “And where was I in all this? Bet I was enjoying Red and Harris as vampires.”

“Oh, you were gone,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“Gone?” Spike asked. “As in South America?”

 “No. Gone gone. Because Buffy never came to Sunnydale, she never defeated the Master and she never found Angel.”

Spike snorted. “Can’t be too sorry about that.”

“Instead, he was the prisoner of the Master and Willow,” Anya continued almost cheerfully. “You tried to get him out. So you could cure Drusilla. But the Master had risen, so he was too strong for you, and you were badly wounded. By the time you recovered, Dru was dying and beyond help. So you granted her final request.”

“Which was,” he prompted warily.

“Oh,” she began with a smile. “For you to see the sunrise together. And being the loyal vamp you are, you didn’t want to be without her, so you held each other until the sun came up, and poof.” She motioned with her hands dramatically. “And your ashes drifted gently to the ground, mixing together.” She waved her fingers down through the air as one might do to signify rain. “It was so romantic.”

Spike raised his eyebrows. “Yeahhh.” He shook his head as if trying to clear it of the image. Turning to Tara, he said. “Oookay, no wishes from the vengeance demon, then.”

“You don’t have to die in your wish,” Anya said with a bright smile.

Spike turned back to her. “I think I’ll pass. Better stick to the garden-variety magic. That’s bad enough as it is, love. But I’m sure you have some experience in that area. You could still help me, if you like. Remember, Xander will hate it,” he reminded her with a winning smile and a slight ducking of his head.

Anya nodded slightly, considering, and somehow Tara knew she was going to concede. She could sense it happening. Feeling helpless to stop it any other way, her resolve finally crumbled. “All right, all right, damn it! I’ll help you!”

Her outburst caused Spike to turn to her, mouth slightly agape. Anya simply raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t like it,” Tara added more softly. “There are so many ways this could go wrong. We don’t even know if we can find a spell yet that will link your minds and allow you to defeat Angelus. And what if he kills you?”

Spike raised his hand in a placatory gesture. “I’ll be careful, pet. We’ll be careful,” he amended, and dropping his hand, he started pacing. “You’re not talking to someone who takes magic lightly, here. We’ll do this right.” He fished in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it in his mouth and lighting it as he continued to pace. “You have to understand. I have a feeling in my gut that this is the right thing to do. I don’t want to leave her. And I’ll have to if we don’t do this.” He stopped pacing to look at Tara imploringly.

“Did I miss something?” Anya asked.

“Yeah, pet, but I’ll fill you in. If you help us research, that is.”

“As long as it doesn’t cut into my time here running the shop.”

“We’ll likely have to purchase supplies,” Spike coaxed.

“More likely steal them,” Anya retorted.

“For your help, Anya, I’ll buy them. Cash on the nose. I promise.” He put his hand over his chest and gave her an innocent look.

“That would mean more if your heart was actually beating,” Anya pointed out. She sighed dramatically. “What are we looking for?”

“Spells that link minds,” Tara answered. “Demon minds.”

Walking over to join Spike at the bookcase, Anya began perusing the titles. She turned to him. “This better be a good story as to why we’re doing this. And you better not give me a watered down version,” she added as her eyes moved back to the volumes.

Tara felt a guilty stir of satisfaction as Spike gave a defeated sigh. At least she wasn’t the only one having some second thoughts. “No watered down version,” he promised Anya begrudgingly, the look on his face clearly decipherable. “Buffy’s going to kill me for this.”

*********

It had sounded like a good idea at the time; let Warren have the first blow - a ruse to conceal her newfound knowledge of the nerd’s current state. Surprise always worked well, Buffy had found. So that was the plan. Pretend not to know about his super strength. “La, la, la, I’m unsuspecting Buffy. Don’t know a thing.” Then let him have it when he least expected it. At least that was the plan until Warren actually hit her. The blow sent her flying back into a wall. That hurt! she thought, and immediately followed it with, screw the plan! I’m so gonna kick his ass. Already annoyed at having spent the last three days looking for the little weasel, Buffy was suddenly in no mood to let him knock her around. Or to pretend she was shocked about it. She advanced on Warren with a murderous glare. Seeing her abrupt change in mood from regular Buffy to royally pissed off Buffy seemed to momentarily shake Warren’s confidence. Buffy guessed old habits died hard. But before long, he recovered his composure, bolstered by his stolen power like a balding man driving a shiny sports car.

Well, Buffy planned to break his little toy and wipe that smile off his face. Her uppercut to his chin sent him flying backwards onto his rear, and she felt a rush of satisfaction. At least until he smiled and laughed maniacally at her.

“It’s going to take more than that, Slayer,” he taunted as he picked himself up, seemingly unharmed.

“Oh, I haven’t even started,” she spat back.

“You have no idea who you are dealing with.” He swung at her again, but Buffy didn’t let his blow connect.

“Wrong. I know who I’m dealing with. A murderer and a thief. And I’m going to stop you.”

She swiped his feet from beneath him with a powerful swing of her leg. Warren fell, but he rolled away from her before she could pin him down. He thrust his own leg towards her, connecting with her thigh and stunning her until he could rise from the ground.

Taking a cleansing breath, Buffy tried to calm herself. Some rage was good. Too much rage made her unfocused. While exchanging a few more blows with him, she tried to think. Her main goal had to be to get those orbs.  Unfortunately to do that, she likely had to lose ground a bit, lull him into a false sense of hope. That strategy would probably mean more pain for her - so what else was new? - but in the long run would shorten this battle a bit. That was fine with her. Unlike fighting vampires, this fight was rapidly becoming tedious. As well as there being no satisfying poof into dust at the end, she knew she couldn’t kill him, no matter how tempting the thought might be. Warren’s next blow, this one bloodying her nose, almost made her rethink that no killing humans philosophy, but instead she went with her plan and allowed herself to fall backwards.

Warren took the bait and charged her, and Buffy had to fight all her instincts and not throw him off as he pummeled her, but when he brought his arm back yet again, she finally saw them. Bingo. She grabbed the pouch from his belt in a flash, ripping the leather straps that held them there. When she smashed the orbs on the ground beside her, she relished the look of utter fear that crossed his face as the power left his body. The moment was fleeting.

“Bitch!” he spat, and jumped off of her before she could grab him.

Why don’t they ever let me enjoy my victories? Buffy thought. She ran after him, but he’d planned an escape she could never have anticipated. Grabbing something from behind a trashcan, he shouldered it, and went straight up, his rocket pack firing from his back.

“Hey!” She raised her arms in frustration and yelled at the sky. “Give me a friggin’ break!” Then she calmed herself and smiled. At least she’d smashed the orbs. Warren would have to go back to just being his ordinary self, and next time she found him, she wouldn’t let him escape.

*********

Willow was actually sad that class had to end early this evening. She supposed that probably made her a nerd, but hey, she got the good grades, didn’t she? However, as she walked quickly down the sidewalk, keeping to the well-lit areas, she supposed walking to the parking lot alone hadn’t been the smartest idea. She probably should have just waited until her friend got out of class so they could walk together. But then she wouldn’t be able to stop by the Magic Box and surprise Tara. Breathing a sigh of relief when she made it to the car, she allowed herself a little silent gloating, so as not to tempt fate, before slipping behind the wheel.

Willow smiled the whole way to the shop. Tara had been so busy lately, researching. It would be good to see her. Maybe she could talk her lover into letting her help, convince her she’d be fine researching magic as long as she stayed away from the actual application. If it would help Buffy, she’d be glad to bear the temptation. She pulled into the lot, parking right beside her girlfriend’s car, and almost skipped to the front door.

But as she neared the shop entrance, something seemed off, so she peered carefully through the front door. Upon catching sight of the two other people gathered around the table with Tara, her hand froze in mid knock, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. Why would Anya and Spike be researching with Tara? Come to think of it, Tara had carried a faint smell of smoke after her research sessions the past three or four days. An ugly feeling of betrayal began to seep into Willow’s brain. Tara hadn’t mentioned researching with Spike. Or Anya for that matter. Willow didn’t like feeling that her girlfriend was perhaps hiding something from her. Maybe Tara felt she couldn’t trust her with the truth. But she had been doing so well. She’d stayed away from magic. How could Tara not trust her?

For a moment, Willow considered knocking. Very telling that I still haven’t gotten my key to the shop back, huh, she thought bitterly, but she so didn’t feel like talking with Anya tonight. Though her good mood was already ruined, there was no need to make things worse. Seeing Anya and dealing with a snarky Spike would likely ensure bad-moodiness; and sighing heavily, she headed back to her car. She would ask Tara about it later, and bypass any need to subject herself to Anya and Spike. Besides, there had to be a good explanation, right?  A perfectly innocent one must be available. Although if that were true, why did she feel so betrayed?

Despite stopping for a donut and coffee and taking the scenic route home, the ugly thoughts couldn’t be chased from Willow’s mind. And hours later, as she crawled into a cold bed alone, they still remained. 

Chapter 7: Revelations

Looking at the notes before her, Tara knew stalling was no longer an option. The spell was inevitable now. The other occupants of the table had been working with her for too long on this, had been with her every step of the way, and had even found some of the spell's components. She couldn't pretend that there was much more left to do. She'd been surprised at how helpful they actually had been. For someone who was wary of magic and spells, Spike seemed to know an awful lot about the subject, and about languages used in the spells, especially demon ones. And for someone to whom magic powers had been innate for so long, Anya had quickly picked up the nuances of spell-casting magic. But then again, such knowledge was good for business, so Tara supposed she shouldn't be that surprised. No, soon it would be useless to stall any further.

"How's it coming?" Anya asked as if reading her mind. "That bridge spell for minds that I found should have helped. And Spike's adjustment for demons."

"I've almost got them incorporated," Tara acquiesced.

Anya brightened. "Good. I'm glad I could help. The actual spell, though..." She wrinkled her forehead. "It's going to be long, isn't it?"

"Most likely," Tara answered.

"And delicate?"

"Definitely."

She nodded as if expecting that. "Then I'd better not. I might get called away."

"Called away?" Tara asked.

"Vengeance," Anya explained off-handedly.

Tara shivered a little. "Oh."

"It's been slow lately and D'Hoffryn is not pleased, so…"

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Spike said with some sympathy.

"Right," Anya said, but there was no enthusiasm in her voice.

The silence that followed was so awkward, Tara was almost glad for her reason to break it. Almost. She held the piece of paper out towards Spike. "You may want to look this over. It's a first draft, but fairly close."

Taking the paper from her, Spike gave her a grateful look. "Thanks.”

"And S-Spike..."

He titled his head and waited.

"I might have some conditions before doing this."

"Whatever you need to do," the vampire conceded.

Tara nodded. "I'll let you know soon."

Anya seemed to take that as a signal that she was free to go. "Well, let me know how this turns out," she said as she stood. “I’d like to be there to see Xander’s face when Angel comes back.”

Spike looked up from his perusal of the spell and smiled at her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

"Good luck," she told Spike.

"Thanks, pet," he replied, sparing her a brief gaze before returning to his study of the spell.

Tara stood as well. "I better be getting back. I'm sure Willow is wondering..."

"'Course, love. I'll lock up."

Tara nodded, and then gathered her things quickly. She needed to get home to Willow. She'd sensed something in her lover recently, a growing unease, and these late nights with Spike and Anya weren't helping. At least this was one good thing to come from finishing the spell. She could go home to her girlfriend.

As she entered the room they shared, Tara saw the expression on Willow's face, the imploring eyes that begged for an explanation, the lips that curled in a frown, and she knew Willow knew something.

"Tara…" Willow began, but Tara cut her off.

"Willow, I have something to tell you. And I need your help. Will you help me?"

The almost relieved smile that came to her lover's lips made Tara's heart ache. Perhaps she should have told her from the beginning, but then again Willow would have wanted to help, and what she would do now was risky enough. Willow always got so involved when creating a spell. At least this way, that temptation was already gone, but...

"Whatever you need, baby," Willow said. "I'm here for you. You know that, right?"

Tara knew then that she couldn't deny Willow the chance to help. And with her girlfriend’s guidance, perhaps she could actually make this work.

*********

The door swung open almost immediately after Tara’s hesitant knock, but Willow didn’t expect the face she saw behind it. The normally manicured hair was somewhat disheveled and the usually bright, blue eyes were tired. Spike looked worn out, for lack of a better description. That was short-lived. Upon seeing her, the vampire’s face soon turned annoyed.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked Tara, a slight tone of betrayal present in his voice.

"I s-said that I would help you do the spell, but under some conditions, and this is one. Willow must be here when I do it."

Spike shook his head. "No. She can't help. I don't want her doing any magic." He looked straight at Willow, and she felt his conviction. "It's too easy to fall back into old habits. I know." He closed his eyes a moment before returning his gaze to Tara.

Willow had the feeling Spike spoke from experience and was both somewhat touched by his concern and annoyed by his tone. Why did everyone think she couldn’t handle this when she had been doing so well? Taking a cleansing breath, she focused herself. She wanted answers. Spike would explain to her what this was about, and what he had to say had better be good.  This was Buffy, her best friend, and she was darn tootin' going to be told what this was about if she was going to help. She would ease his worries, though, and let him know that she planned to be careful. "I won't be performing any of the spells myself," she told the vampire. "… if there are going to be any spells," she added in a serious tone that was punctuated by her resolve face. "But Tara wants me to talk her through some of the more difficult stuff."

Spike nodded, though somewhat reluctantly. “All right, but how come I have the feeling that it’s not that easy?” The look he pinned on Tara was a little intimidating, and Willow bristled slightly. Her lover lifted her chin and held her ground under his gaze, and Willow was proud of her.

“Willow wants to know. She wants to understand. I thought it would be better coming from you.”

Spike’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to tell her? I can’t do that. Too many people know already. Buffy would stake me if she found out.”

"She d-doesn't have to know that you told," Tara said.

Spike shook his head. "It would hurt Buffy.”

Tara held his gaze. "Willow can't understand your point of view unless you tell her. She'll keep the secret. Buffy won't know."

"But…"

"It's necessary," Tara told him. "I won't do this without Willow. And Willow won’t do this unless she understands."

Spike looked at Willow then back to Tara. "I don't like it. This might hurt Willow, too, and I'll get blamed."

Tara looked at her with some concern. "It might, but it is necessary."

"Okay, not liking the implications here," Willow said. "What are you talking about?" What could possibly be that bad?

She was about to find out.

Spike explained it all, starting with the truce he and Buffy had when they fought Acathla together, a detail Buffy had never really shared with the rest of them, but that Spike seemed to think was the turning point in his unlife. Willow might not have believed it until he laid the details out for them: how the other demons quickly found out, how he was then considered weak, how Drusilla no longer thought him demon enough, and how his desire to win her back had brought him to Sunnydale - twice - and had finally resulted in his current chipped condition. The thought that one event could change someone’s existence so drastically unnerved her so much that she almost missed Spike’s subsequent mentioning of the spell that caused him and Buffy to be engaged until she noticed Tara looking at her in admonishment. And barely controlled amusement.

“Willow, you didn’t, did you?” Tara asked her.

Fortunately, her brain belatedly caught up with the conversation. “It was an accident. I said I was sorry,” she added sheepishly. “Remember - lots of cookies.” Then she sat up straighter. “And hey, no trying to pin this on me. You still tried to kill Buffy and us after that, so no blaming me for your feelings for Buffy. That wasn’t when it happened.” She nodded, proud of herself. This mess definitely wasn’t her fault.

“Okay, no,” Spike admitted. “That wasn’t when it happened.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Though I’m sure it didn’t help any either.” He sniffed before continuing his story.

It turned out that the last time he tried to get his chip out was when it had happened, or at least started, Spike not being completely positive it was really love and not just obsession until the torture incident with Glory. Willow raised her eyebrows in surprise. “It started that long ago? How could we not have known?”

“Um, well,” Spike began, “then you’re really not gonna like the rest of this. That’s nothing compared to what’s happened since Buffy came back.”

Again Willow was skeptical. What could have possibly happened that was so huge and that she didn’t know about? This was Buffy, and sure, there had been the whole coming back from heaven thing, but certainly there couldn’t be that many more secrets. Again she was wrong.

The first shock came when Spike told his story about when Buffy first came back and about how she told him about being in heaven.

Willow's eyes widened. "You knew the whole time? She told you?"

He quickly attempted to diffuse her ire. "Now, don't go getting all hurt. There was a reason she told me, and it's not because she thought I was her bestest friend," he said sarcastically.

"And you didn't tell us?" Willow continued, not feeling very consoled. "We might have been able to help her sooner."

"She told me never to tell," Spike explained. "And well, you see, after I knew… well, you had hurt her."

"You were mad at us," Tara said knowingly.

Looking away, Spike nodded slightly. "I tried not to be, but..." He shook his head. "It's not important now. Water under the bridge.”

“No. You had a right to be angry,” Tara said. “We didn’t tell you. We should have told you.”

“Yeah, well remember that when we get to this next bit, huh, ducks. You might have to do a little interference.”

Willow felt her stomach clench. “This is gonna be bad, isn’t it?”

Spike looked at her askance. “Oh yeah.” He shot a pleading look at Tara, silently asking her to let him off the hook, but Tara only shook her head, so he took out a cigarette and lit it. “Buffy and I… It started when Sweet came to town. We all spilled our guts and well, I said some things that Buffy might have taken to heart. It might have happened anyway, even though things were going so well. Us as friends I mean…”

Willow knew stalling when she heard it. “Spike, what are you trying to say?”

“That night, after Sweet left, we kissed.”

“Well that’s not so bad. As long as it didn’t…”

“And then a little while later we…”

He didn’t have to say it. By the look on his face, she knew. Her mouth dropped open. Then her eyes narrowed and she sneered. “What did you do to her?”

“Me?” Spike asked. “I didn’t bloody start it.”

“But you sure took advantage, didn’t you?”

Spike rolled his eyes and pointed to himself. “Vampire, here. Since when am I supposed to be the model of restraint and virtue?” He took a deep drag of his cigarette. “But that’s not the point. Point is things got ugly fast. Only I didn’t see it. Or didn’t want to. And I didn’t want to give her up. I said things. She said things.”

Tara looked like she remembered something and had to ask. “That night with the demons that made time mess up. Something happened, didn’t it?”

Spike tilted his head at Tara questioningly. “Why do you ask?”

“What happened, Spike?” Tara asked.

Seeing her lover’s troubled face, Willow had the feeling that Tara knew something, and perhaps had known something about this for a long while.

“No, luv, you don’t want to know. It was bad. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“You hurt her somehow.” Willow felt the words come out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Spike didn’t answer. He looked away and crushed out what was left of his cigarette.

“N-no,” Tara almost whispered. “She hurt you, didn’t she? A-and it was bad.”

Spike shook his head. “My fault. I wanted her to. Thought she’d feel better if she…”

Tara’s mouth gaped and her eyes opened wide in realization. “At her birthday, when you were beat up. She did that? Spike, you don’t have to let her beat you. You can stop her now.”

“Look, it wasn’t really that bad. Besides, I did some things I shouldn’t have as well. I’m not the innocent here, Tara.”

Willow hardly heard Spike’s response. Her mind had latched on to what Tara had said. “What do you mean, he can stop her now? Is his chip not working?” She felt her body tense and her breath catch.

“Still got the chip.” Spike said. “It only doesn’t work on Buffy.”

Willow turned to Tara. “And you knew this and didn’t tell me? He could have killed her.”

“He w-wouldn’t hurt her,” Tara objected.

Spike snapped his gaze up to Tara. “You know that’s not necessarily true. That’s one of the reasons I’m doing this.” Willow felt his eyes on her now and looked up. “I’m getting desperate, Red; I can’t lose her again, and I can’t stand to see her unhappy anymore. I’m afraid I’ll do something to hurt her trying to get her back. But if I can get her Angel, I could still be a part of it, and she could be happy. She needs someone like him. Because a regular guy…” Spike shook his head. “No room for a regular guy in the Slayer’s life. Not the way she is anymore.”

Willow might have objected to that, but considering Buffy’s history, she decided the point was likely moot. A regular guy, especially a new one, would be one more complication, one more thing for Buffy to worry about. "And that's where the spell for Angel’s soul comes in."

"Right," Spike said, and he looked grateful that she hadn’t disagreed with him. "They may be living in separate worlds now, but they could get together every once in a while. Whenever they needed contact with one another. And she'd know there was always someone there for her. So I thought it would be perfect. Fix it so he wouldn't lose his soul when, well, you know. But once this stupid side effect thing came to light, well... Let's just say that if Angelus got control, he'd kill her. If I'm the demon, I already love her so there wouldn't be that danger. I'll just have to be strong and not let the bleeding soul get to me. I'll just have to accept it and not fight it, and it'll be fine. She'd have her soul and her demon."

"But if you think it's the soul, why not have us curse you with the new and improved spell?" Willow asked.

Spike looked at her like she was insane. "Hello!" he said. "Demon here! I'm the one that loves her. That bloody wanker William, whose body this was, if he came back through the curse, he'd be the bloody one in control most of the time. That is, if he didn't off himself from the guilt. And," he added with emphasis, "if you only knew what he was like." He scoffed. "He'd probably run off with the nearest spinster librarian he could find."

"Spinster librarian?" Willow asked. "Someone called William the Bloody would run off with a librarian."

Spike, too riled up to think of what he was saying, blurted out, "He was William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry. He was a total git. He made Giles look tough…" He stopped his tirade when he saw them looking at him. "You tell a bloody soul," he warned with a growl.

The women dipped their faces a little, trying their best not to smirk.

"That wasn't me." He pointed to himself. "Evil demon." He snorted. "Took me decades to forget all the stupid poetry, though." He smirked a little. "Though for a while there, I used to recite it to make Dru laugh. She thought it was amazing that anyone she thought had such vision could create something so gauche. Then we used to agree that after that rot, he deserved to get eaten." He tilted his head and took out another cigarette. "Hell, we did him a favor anyway. He never would have recovered from that broken heart."

"Broken heart?" Tara asked.

"Yeah. He loved some bint that thought he was beneath her. Used to write all that poetry for her, and when he told her how he loved her and she rejected him... They were staring at him. "Bloody hell," he said. Then he looked at them seriously. "It's not the same thing. I am not him!"

"W-we believe you," Tara said, trying a little too hard to sound convincing.

"But some of the personality remains," Willow said. "At least that's what Angel said, because believe me, when I saw vampire Willow, I didn't think that could be me, but..."

Spike closed his eyes and took an unneeded breath through clenched teeth. "I spent most of my unlife trying to get rid of William. You can't know what it's like. To be a freak. To feel things I'm not supposed to."

"T-there's nothing wrong with feeling things," Tara soothed.

"There is when you're a bloody demon!" Spike spat. “I’m not supposed to feel these things. And now.” He exhaled in frustration. “I’m… changed, but… I can’t be a monster, but I’m not a man. No matter what I try to do it’s not enough. Still evil in her mind. Still can't feel the guilt for the world she seems to think is so necessary. Still don't have a moral compass. Never will. I'm a demon. Can't change that, no matter what good things I try to do." His jaw worked a little, and he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

Even though he was with them, Willow had the feeling that Spike felt like he was alone. She was beginning to see why Spike wanted to do this spell despite the consequences. He wanted to be something other than an outcast.  He wanted somewhere to belong. Willow knew the feeling all too well.

For Tara, it was the pain in Spike’s eyes that affected her the most. She felt a momentary twinge of guilt remembering a college conversation concerning the Hunchback of Notre Dame. She remembered how she had told Willow that Quasimodo could never have his Esmerelda for the very same reason. That everything the hunchback had done was for the selfish reason of his love for the woman who could never love him back. Somehow faced with a real someone in the same situation, it didn't seem so cut and dried.

"After you get put in his body, you won't have control most of the time," Willow explained. "I mean, at first, you will have some control, while things are still getting settled, but later you will mostly be in the background. Like being in his shadow."

Not much different than now, his expression said. "But, I will be there, right? I'll know what's going on?"

"I would assume so. Otherwise, Angel wouldn't have known what his demon did while he was away, and vice versa, so I'm sure there is some interaction, and some awareness, somehow," Willow answered, trying to sound convincing.

"That's more than enough, then," Spike said. "I mean, it'll be hard, not being in control, but I'll still be able to love her, and be with her, even if it is just in his shadow."

The last part passed his lips almost as a whisper, but Tara heard it. In response, she made a noise, almost like a whimper.

Spike looked at her and tilted his head. "Something wrong, pet?"

Tara took one look into his emotion-filled eyes, and the tears that had been threatening hers began to spill. "Goddess, how can she not see how much you love her?"

Spike turned away, and swallowed hard. "She can't let herself, love. It doesn't matter if I love her. I'm evil. She's good. Nothing good can come of it for her. I'm beneath her." His voice was getting rough. "Now don't bloody say anything else or I'll…" He pressed the heels of his hands in his eyes and sniffed to stop tears that Tara knew should come, but that he wouldn't let them see.

They didn't touch him. They didn't say anything. They just let the vampire be.

Tara cried quietly, overcome by emotion, but also because she understood. Sometimes loving someone wasn't enough. Love didn't always conquer all. The world was too complicated a place, and sometimes love was too delicate to meet its demands. Then she felt Willow’s hands rub her shoulders, and for a moment, just a moment, she could almost believe that it could.

Her attention was brought back to the vampire as he took a last shuddering breath and raised his head. He raked a hand through his hair, and then looked at Willow expectantly, his eyes demanding an answer. He was done.  No more explanations would be given. They could see that in the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his jaw. He was finished baring his metaphorical soul. Now it was up to Willow to say yes or no.

Willow cleared her throat. It sounded loud in the silence of the crypt.  "All right," she finally said. "I'll help."

Spike closed his eyes and nodded a thank you. "'Preciate it." He hefted himself off of the sarcophagus. "Better get going," he announced.

"Where are you going?" Willow asked softly.

"Hard part’s not over," Spike explained with an ironic smirk. "This was easy. Now I gotta go break the news to Angel. He'll either accept or stake me. Either way, the problem will be solved."

"Be careful," Tara said.

Spike smiled at her softly, looking somewhat touched by her concern. "Too late for that now. Much too late." He let his gaze shift to include Willow. "I'll let you know when I get back. You can start preparing whatever you need to until then. Do you need any money for supplies?"

"No, I think we'll be fine," Tara said. To herself, she thought, You have enough to worry about right now.

Spike nodded and headed to his lower level to get what he needed for his trip to L.A.

*********

Angel looked strangely at the young man who held out the envelope. He was no more than Connor's age.

"You don't know who this is from?"

"H-he never told me his name, and please don't ask me any more. Just take it so I can go."

Angel had the feeling that there was some coercion involved in the delivering of this message, so he decided not to push the boy further. Any answers he gave were likely to be lies, anyway. Of course, he could always flash some fangs, threaten information out of him. He sighed at the thought, and instead reached out to take the manila envelope from the boy's fingers. Nearly dropping the package in his haste, the young man was out the door before Angel had the chance to change his mind.

He contemplated the envelope a moment, trying to distinguish anything from the smell or texture, but in the end, he settled for opening it. The torn piece of photocopy fluttered out along with a handwritten note that read, "This is part of a spell that can permanently bind your soul to you. If you want to know more, meet me at the abandoned Mercer warehouse on Huxley tonight at midnight. I would prefer you came alone."

Angel looked for more, and finding nothing else, stared at the paper and the note. A tingling sensation crawled through his body as he thought of the implications of the note and the words written on the photocopy. It was a spell, that was sure, but could it really be what the note said? His brain warned him to be cautious, but his heart wanted to grab at any chance that it might be true. He would go tonight, he knew. Now he had to decide how much he should tell his friends and coworkers. Sometimes it was hard not being a loner anymore. There were others to consider now, but he guessed it was a price he had to be willing to pay. Taking the papers carefully, he went off in search of Cordelia.

TBC