T H E   B A C K G R O U N D

Posted: 2 February 2002
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Vaguely The Yoko Factor, Primeval, Restless. Angel is still Spike's sire.


He watched them in his sleep.

In the daytime, when they were out smiling and laughing and touching and sharing each other, he lay asleep and watched them together. It wasn't always sexual, he would be on a crowded street of juicy, humming people, and as he bent his head to taste one, he would catch them out of the corner of his eye, just together.

Every day, over and over.

Willow, and Tara.

The wonderful, kind, beautiful, dark-depth woman he loved, and the woman she loved.

Spike's jaw would clench as he remembered how he had given her time to get over the wolfboy. Had stayed in the background, helping her little group and siding with the Slayer, killing the odd demon or two, let her be while she ignored him and started to get on with her life.

And now suddenly she was tucked into a cozy, happy little relationship where she was still playing a part.

And it drove him wild.


The bloody Scoobies took him along to fight a Krakos demon, walking in little bunches around him. Chubs and Anya, Slayer and Soldier Boy, Red and Silent Red. Giles walked alone, but even he ignored Spike's company, striding along in silence.

He supposed he was being punished for the whole Adam thing. But what did they expect? He kept on telling them, they kept on being surprised.

Hello! Evil! Hate you guys!

It was a too-short battle later, when they abandoned him to a mess of demon intestines and clean up duty, that his anger really surfaced.

Call him a big bloody poof, but he'd always told it like it was and saw people for what they were. And his Red - always his Red, even if maybe he hadn't torn her throat out or at the very least marked her while he could - was full of spirit and mischief that they shut down until even she thought she was just a boring nerd.

As if.

A tremble shook his face, the tensions inside him forcing a physical reaction.

This was really, really not the way it was supposed to be. And he could either sit here, cleaning up intestines, or he could do something about it.

He would bloody do something about it.


He tuned the radio of the De Soto into a rock station and sped along the highway. Like his best plans, this was simple and based on two direct principles. What he wanted, and what the person he sought wanted. When you wanted something more than anything, and could offer the same in return, bargaining became easy.

Their early night's work in Sunnydale, and the smog of Los Angeles, meant that he was safely in the city by mid morning. He went to ground in a dingy motel with dying palm trees in the front, delving into the yellow pages that were his sole request of the room.

He had five very interested answers within two hours, and an appointment made for the early evening.

Spike spent the rest of the afternoon napping, finding sleep easy after a healing drive - cars, what would he have done without cars in the past century? It was like flying - and the weight easing from his mind.

The cheap alarm clock blared out country music at the appropriate time, and he cleaned himself up slightly for the appointment. He'd thought about wearing a suit, but he wasn't pretending anything.

He would have had to kill something to get one, anyway.


Dr Carl Anderson was a good looking man in his late thirties. Spike's sharp eyes caught the small scars from surgeries already performed, lifting the evenly tanned skin and smoothing the slight wrinkles near the man's eyes. The body was fit and expensively dressed, the hair styled and flawlessly dyed a dark blonde.

"William Adams, Doctor Anderson," his secretary said. She was blonde and TV-star pretty, with nicely sized implants and endless golden legs beneath her short white skirt.

"Thank you, Tina," the doctor replied, looking over Spike with interest and only a little surprise. "I'm not sure how long we'll be, so you won't need to wait."

The doctor's selfishness made Spike smirk. His grin widened as both men watched the secretary's ass leave.

"It's good of you to meet with me," Spike said casually, and the doctor regarded him carefully.

"As I said on the phone, I'm extremely interested in your proposal, if somewhat sceptical."

Spike shrugged. "Of course."

"Can you offer any proof of what you say?"

Spike lowered his eyes and then lifted his head, game face grinning and golden-eyed. The startled doctor actually pushed himself away from his desk, his own eyes wide. He shook, but surprisingly did not cry out.

"Good God," he said reverently.

"Not really, mate," Spike answered, shaking the visage off.

"And you are … how old?"

"One hundred and twenty seven."

The doctor leaned forward hungrily.

"And you haven't aged a bit from when you were … when you were changed?"

"Well, it's not like I see myself in the mirror. You won't get that. But a bloke like you, the birds'll still be interested. In twenty years, in fifty, in a hundred."

"The … the face … with the fangs …"

"Optional. Feeding, of course, fightin', fuckin'. You can keep it off, just takes a little control. And your business? No one'd even notice for twenty years or so. You must have a bit saved up, diverted from the tax men. Invest it right and you'll be living the good life for centuries."

The doctor was definitely interested.

"What do you want in return?"

"It's pretty simple, doc. I've got a chip. Prevents me from feeding, prevents me from killin'. So I can't hurt you right now, even if I wanted. All I can do is try to hit you and get a fuckin' freight train barreling into me."

"But you could hurt me … after?"

"That's right. So you've got to weigh it up. Fix me and take me at my bargain, that you'll live forever, or let me walk out that door and watch yourself wrinkle and die. I want, I need this chip out. And so I'm makin' an offer."

The doctor took a deep breath, and gave him a wry smile.

"You knew exactly what you were doing, coming here, didn't you?"

"Oh yes. In a city like this, everyone has their price, and everyone wants to live forever. A man like you, with a license to scalpel and a need to be beautiful? I knew someone'd trade."

Spike watched the doctor think, his eyes intent on the man in front of him.

"I've already had one of our rooms prepared. We'll take a quick X-ray and then prep you up. There's no question of the procedure before we operate?"

Spike chuckled. "Not really in my plan, but that would involve my head being fried, so, no."

The doctor smiled wryly, then paused. "How do you know I won't kill you, after?"

Spike just winked at him. "Well, you can always try."


Spike sat up on the operating table, taking a deep, if unnecessary breath, letting his head sort itself out. Slowly he let the demon forth, thinking about the blood of the man before him. Of blood in general.

The doctor watched hopefully, his gloves and gown removed, his feet shifting nervously on the floor.

Spike pushed himself off the table, gliding towards Anderson. The man trembled as Spike touched him, angling his head away from his neck and the throbbing blood inside it.

He paused, and punched the doctor quickly in the eye.

The man howled, clutching at his face.

"Just checking," Spike grinned.

It wasn't love or lust or even food, it was business, and Spike sunk his fangs in cleanly. The doctor continued to howl, and then to moan as his body twitched and the life poured out of him. As he slumped in Spike's hold, the vampire halted his feeding, ripping open his wrist with the flick of a fang. Holding his wrist to the doctor's mouth, the man began to greedily suck as Spike tore into his throat again.

He lowered the man to the floor as his heart stopped, leaving him to wake up and wreak whatever havoc on the world. He didn't appear to be interested in joining the world of the immortals quite yet, no doubt his system would reanimate in a few hours.

So he didn't have to fight the man, which saved some bother. And he may have been an occasionally psychotic and all the time kick ass vampire, but Spike kept his agreements with people.

Especially when said people had given him back his fangs.


Tina the secretary hadn't quite finished up yet at her desk, despite the late hour. She shot Spike a flirtatious look, and he smirked as he realised why.

"Waitin' for me, pet?" he asked silkily.

"I've always loved England," she gushed. "Do you have plans for tonight, Mr Adams?"

"Call me William," he murmured, putting his hand lightly on her arm. He moved closer. "In fact, why don't you call me Spike?"

"Spike?" she giggled, leaning into him.

"Spike," he agreed, freeing the demon while moving as if to kiss her cheek. And pain-free, he lashed into her neck, drinking down the hot blood quickly while she struggled weakly against him.

As she slipped away, he dropped her and wiped roughly at the blood on his face.

It felt really, really good to be back.


He tipped the motel with a twenty from Tina's purse, and roared back onto the highway. Once again, he would be at his destination by the morning. He contemplated smashing through the sign again, but no sense warning anyone that something was up, that he'd even been anywhere.

The fresh blood in his veins sent sweet life through his own body. The music up loud, copper in his mouth and the road flying by, it filled him with power.

And now he just had to decide what he wanted.

A somewhat huge portion of him wanted to drink the stupid blood of every one of the wankers, but that was the sort of thinking that led to a vampire being staked but good. It was her bloody town, and she still had all of them to help her.

If bigger 'n stronger than him couldn't do it, who the hell was he to try?

What he wanted was Willow. And respect.

He wanted them to tremble in their stupid little sneakers or fashion victim heels.

And he wanted Willow to be her very own fire goddess bad self, with him at her side.


"Hello?"

"Finally!"

"Spike?"

"I heard you were the brains behind it all, Red. Slayer come back for you, or what?"

"Buffy? Nuh-uh. Was she supposed to?"

"She mentioned it, and now we're here, and you're up for a magic something or other that the Watcher can't handle. Do you know the big hotel, round the corner from your university there? Got the funny palm trees out the front?"

"Of course. There's a demon there?"

"Bloody hell yes. Chubs has already been conked out by it. Giles said you're going to need the book you borrowed from him, that's it. And to get here fast. Are you sure Buffy didn't ring you?"

"No. No, she didn't …"

"Always acting all over-protective! Bloody hell, can't she see that you're on the handy side to have around? Oh shit … pet, just try and get here quick, will you? Room - hey! Watch out! - room 282."

He hung up on her hurriedly, and allowed himself a small, evil grin. He clicked the TV and its volume-up action movie off, and lay down on the bed, legs crossed, waiting.


There was a timid knock on the door a short while later. Spike threw it open quickly, rushing Willow inside. She had a large text in her arms, struggling slightly with the heavy volume.

She looked around, and turned back to him in confusion. Something dawned, and she opened her mouth to scream.

Spike clamped his hand over her mouth in a flash, using his other hand to stop her hitting him with the book.

"Now, Will," he said seriously, grimacing as she kicked him in the shin. "Red, will you stop that?"

She stopped struggling, frowning at him. He loosened his hand, then pulled it away as she failed to scream.

"What are you doing? Where's the demon?" she asked anxiously.

"Just one demon here," he shrugged, cautiously letting her go.

She blinked, and let out a terrified yell.

"Hey!" he complained, his hand over her mouth again. The little witch bit him, and he roared, ripping his hand away.

"Would you stop it?" he shouted, shaking his stinging hand.

"You're evil!" she shouted back, dropping the book and lifting her hand, her eyes narrowed.

Spike pushed her hand down lightly, running a finger on his free hand across her lips. She halted the spell she was beginning, staring at him in confusion.

"Will you hear me out, or what?"

Willow watched him intently. "Are you evil?"

He smirked at her, leaning forward and licking along her neck. She shuddered at his touch, but his sense of smell clued him in to the fact that it was a good shudder.

"Of course," he whispered, his tongue rubbing softly against her pale skin. "I'm the Big Bad."

Her hand lifted and pushed him away weakly, and he could feel the tremble of her fingers on his head.

"What are you doing?"

"It occurred to me that I always threaten you when we're alone together," he murmured. "Aren't there more pleasant things to do with our time?"

"Uh, Spike …" she put in, actually raising her hand as if she was in class. "Tara, remember? Happy lesbian here?"

"How can you be, when you quash down all your fire and let your friends walk all over you? How are you happy?"

Willow pulled away from him slightly, staring.

"I'm happy," she said, only the slightest break in her voice.

"When they still see you as the little girl they knew in high school?"

She looked away from him for a split second.

"When they take in the demon girl and barely talk to your witch?"

"We already did this, Spike," she warned.

He stared at her intently, his eyes reflecting the pain in her own.

"When your lover looks at you with fear in her face and heart whenever you use your power?"

"No," she cried softly, backing away from him again.

"When you did that spell with Buffy against Adam. After the dreams -"

She broke as easily as that, tears spilling over her cheeks.

"But if I give in to that power, she'll leave me!"

He tenderly touched her face, cupping it with his hands and lifting it up so she looked in his eyes. His thumbs brushed away the tears gently.

"If she won't have you for what you are, what's the worth in it?"

She ducked her head again, shivering.

"And you?" she said in a soft, hurt voice.

"I see your power, your humor, the beauty you hide. I know what you are. I know what you can be." He let her face go, and dropped to his knees in front of her. Her eyes found his, surprised.

"I would give anything to have you as you are."


Willow's mouth was a round O of shock, but she hadn't hit him or run, and the hands that lightly touched on his shoulders were worth whole buckets of hope.

The they pinched.

"You want to make me a vampire!"

"Well," he admitted slowly, "yeah. But you've got a few years to catch up on me yet, luv. Mortal years, I mean. And …"

He paused, pressing his lips together, and then swallowed.

"I wouldn't do it if you didn't want it, Willow."

Her hands tightened involuntarily upon him at the emotion in his voice.

"You wouldn't?" she whispered. "Even if you could?"

He looked up at her, his face honest. "I said I was the Big Bad, pet. I meant it. I'm -" Spike chuckled. "I am on my knees here before you, as I am. I'm a demon, a vampire, all of that, but you aren't in my lap in need of a blood transfusion, are you? This is who I am, askin' if you'll have me."

Willow's mouth opened a little, then closed again.

"Drusilla?" she asked hesitantly.

He sighed.

"I'll always love her," he said truthfully. "But a century plus of bein' dumped for anyone that looked twice at her? Got to get the message at some point."

She nodded, past betrayals darkening her eyes.

He lifted his hands to her hips, his thumbs brushing over their curve. "But you leave me, and I'll definitely be stakin' myself."

"I won't leave you," she rushed out, and he could hear the pain that still haunted her. Then she leaned back and smacked him upside the head. "Even though you're making me leave Tara."

He gave her a blinding smile, hugging her to him.

"Really?" he asked excitedly.

"Well, I'll think about it," she nodded, a small smile on her lips.


"But you're evil?"

Spike grinned his very most evil grin. Willow gave him a look of dismay from the chair she now sat in.

"It's no longer chips ahoy in the kicked-down puppy's head, Willow. But I'm not tryin' to kill the Slayer or that soldier of hers, am I? I'm here with you, and I'm not jumpin' all aboard the good gang boat, but …" He sighed. "I'll do what you want. I'll be where you want."

"Anything I want?" she repeated.

"Well, as long as you're bloody reasonable, pet. I'd like to think you won't abuse your privileges." He winked at her. "Much."

She grinned at that.

"You haven't killed anyone, you just came to me?"

He grimaced. "Well. Almost. I sort of killed one person on my way back here. Like stoppin' at McDonalds."

She made a face. "Hardly."

"I didn't think you'd be all judgy," he said disconsolately, and she sighed.

"I don't know how we'll work that, Spike. I don't know how we'll work anything. But …"

"But?" he echoed hopefully.

She gave a nervous little laugh, standing and holding her hands out to him. He stepped across the room to her, dipping his head as her hand on his neck drew him down.

"Maybe you could try to convince me a bit?"


Well, she hardly needed to tell him twice.

Spike's lips touched hers with aching softness, his eyes slowly closing as he forgot everything he'd been through in the last months and concentrated on the exact sensation of kissing Willow.

It was bloody perfect.

He gave her a little room to breathe, kissing beside her mouth and flicking his tongue against the corner of her lips.

"Oh my," she said raggedly. Her heartbeat was faster, and he smiled against her skin.

He moved his mouth back to hers, deepening the kiss. His arms moved around her, bringing her closer to him.

She sighed into him, and he dipped his tongue into her mouth. Hers trembled against his, and he felt his own knees threaten to buckle.

Their heads fell together as she breathed again, her breasts rising as she panted softly.

"You're right," she said suddenly.

"Of course I am. About what?"

"You should have been doing this instead of threatening me. You really should have."

"Don't you think I haven't kicked myself?" he replied hotly, stroking down her back.

"Well, next time, tell me, and I'll kick you for you," she returned seriously, brushing her fingers through his hair.

He breathed a laugh, then quickly scooped her into his arms.

Willow gasped, and then giggled as he tossed her lightly onto the bed. The nice people at the hotel had given them a king size bed, and she regarded it thoughtfully, absent-mindedly removing her shoes.

He followed her example and joined her on the bed barefoot, flopping onto his side and leaning on an elbow.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She immediately turned a rosy red, and Spike arched an eyebrow at her.

"I was just thinking about the times I imagined you … and me … in a king sized bed."

"Oh ho!" he half-shouted, a smug smile on his face. "What were we doin', luv?"

She slanted him a sarcastic look. "You want directions?"

"I think I can manage without."


He leaned into her, one hand resting on her hip, and kissed her thoroughly. Baby soft kisses that had her whimpering for more, and deep, hard kisses that left her breathless. Willow's hands were on his shoulders, his back, his ass, and he moved his own up her side to draw her against him.

Spike had vowed not to hurry her, and so he smiled into her neck, brushing it with kisses, as her fingers began to slip the buttons of his shirt free. As the shirt parted, her warm little hands slipped inside, running over his T shirt clad chest. Her heat did the wildest things to him. He'd swear it actually drew him up over room temperature.

She pulled away from him impatiently, hastily pulling the T shirt over his head and flinging it away. Slowly, savoring the touch, Willow slid her hands over him. Her hands splayed across his chest, and she bent her head to roughly lick across his nipples.

He shuddered at that, a rough sigh coming from deep within him. He shifted his own hands to touch her, his fingers running over her stomach and shoulders but not her breasts. She kissed him, then pulled away briefly to whisper.

"Touch me."

He let one hand slowly take her breast, lifting and molding her to his hand. His large hands fitted her perfectly, filled with her warm flesh. Willow sighed against him, her own hand running perilously close to the straining bulge in his jeans. He growled slightly, letting her other breast fill his hand and then softly kneading it.

His hands went to the edge of her light green top, carefully removing it. Willow's kisses suddenly stopped, and her breath stilled as he looked at her.

Spike ran one finger over her, tracing the edge of her pale blue, lacy bra. The slight swell of her breasts as she leaned toward him, the curve of her hips, the pale flesh of her stomach with its tiny dipped navel.

"You … are …" he whispered, all his concentration on his finger touching her skin.

"I am … what?" Willow asked quickly, her breath sucking in as she remembered to breathe. Or maybe at his touch.

"So beautiful."

He flicked her bra undone, watched her breasts rise with another quick intake of breath, her nipples tighten under his gaze.

Cold hands met warm flesh in a single movement, and the tremble went through them both. Willow began to seriously work on the rest of his clothing, and when she his cock sprung free from his jeans and into her hands, he had to bite his lip to keep from exploding right there.

She wiggled his jeans free and took him into her hands again, stroking firmly along his length. He shut his eyes briefly, not touching her and just trying to keep himself together. As a tremor shook through him, she sighed and drew her hands to his shoulders, bringing her mouth to his.

Spike gave her a strangled laugh, and moved to the buttons on her trousers. She shimmied helpfully as he removed them, running his hands over her long, graceful legs. His thumbs brushed into the hollow between her thighs, and his hand in against her soaking knickers. He had to count to twenty at the scent that overwhelmed his senses at the touch, ready and wanting and Willow.

Willow had been dominating their kissing, and he turned the tables on her as his hand skimmed between her legs. Over the wet silk of her knickers, slipping almost inside her along with the material, and then one finger sliding inside her as his tongue pressed into her mouth. She lifted against him, and murmured in complaint as he drew the single finger out of her again.

He teased her clit through the silk, his other hand running over all sorts of places and finding her sweet spots. Her wrists, how delightful. He drew one up to his mouth, lapping his tongue over the pale skin and feeling the thrum of her blood and heart. His thumb traced over the wrist and she shivered against him, then moaned as he slid a finger inside her knickers again.

Spike rolled her slightly, covering her body with his. His hands cradled her to him, lifting her into his body. His cock tantalized her, rubbing against her clit and soaked cunt. Willow whimpered at the touch, moving against him.

He slid his hands into her knickers, pushing into her body as he removed the wet silk. She hissed as his cool hardness nudged against her, so soft and wet and hot. His fingers ran over her clit, and slipped inside her again, and he knew she was more than ready.

Willow's hands wrapped around his arms, her flushed face turned up to him.

"Spike, please," she panted, her lips kiss-swollen and parted sweetly.

He half-smiled at her, and slowly sunk his cock inside her, taking all the time he could to sink to the hilt in her tight cunt.

"God," he groaned, feeling her tighten further on him. She had stretched into him, her head thrown back and her lovely throat bared.

At the sight, he finally let the held-in demon free. In a smooth movement he slid from her and lifted her to a slightly different angle, thrusting hard inside her cunt once more.

"Spike!" she gasped in surprise, leaving him to smirk at over a century of playing with positions. He leant in to her throat, licking over the skin there and grazing with his teeth. She was too busy with his hard strokes and busy finger at her clit to notice or care, holding him to her as she moaned.

"Go, Willow, go," he muttered as his balls tightened, panting against her soft skin, breath or not.

Willow melted into him, crying out softly, and he sunk deep inside her once more, his fangs lashing into her neck. She gasped, stiffening, but then with his thumb brushing against her clit, she cried out again and harder. Her cunt tightened on his cock, and he shot his load deep within her with a grunt, slumping wordlessly against her.


After several minutes, when her thumping heart had slowed down again, Willow took his hand.

"Okay. I agree. Everything, I agree."

And then she slapped him with her free hand.

"Hey! You bit me!"

He realized he was still in his game face when she started giggling, and traced her hand over his vamped-out features.

"Well, yeah, luv. But you're not still bleeding or anything. Oh - and you tasted just delicious." He leered at her.

She wrinkled her cute little nose at him, still examining his changed features.

"So, how does this work, then?"

"This?"

"Us."

"Well, pet, the boy puts his -"

"Spike! We did that already! I meant, how do we work this, do we date? What do we tell my friends … my parents … your father?"

Spike let his face slide back, and regarded her with dismay.

"Bloody hell, we don't have to tell Peaches, do we? Poof'll stake me, and that gets old real fast."

"We do have to tell Buffy and the others," she said seriously.

"I know, luv. Well, what's there to tell them? We're dating - yes, we'll be dating. I will date you."

Willow glared. "Could you say that like you're happy about it?"

He grimaced. "I've just never dated anyone before. All right, we'll date, but I'm not goin' to see any vampire movies with you. They're all broody and soulful, like spending two hours with the nancy boy."

She giggled at that, her smile forgiving him.

"And we've been here, done that, got the T shirt. I'm here and I'm evil, I'm not changing on you. I don't have a chip, I don't have a soul, I just have a heart that's yours."

"Oh," Willow squeaked. "Sniffy! Tears! Tears!"

He laughed at her, fanning her face like they did on TV.

"So, we're datin'. We're shaggin'. We're …" He eyed her hopefully. "Sharin' an off campus apartment sort of thing?"

She considered it for about a second.

"I can do that."

"… Which means I'm finding myself a job," he grumbled, holding up his pale hands. "I'm sure I'll end up with dishpan hands."

"Oh, please! One hour as a busboy and you'd be tearing off heads!"

His eyes flickered, no doubt filled with bloodlust, but she snuggled against him anyway.

"And," he said with delight, finally realizing how he could get every demon, vamp and bloody human in town to respect him again. "I can toss anyone I like around to prove that this is my town. I want Sunnydale to be a one-demon town."

"Great excuse!" Willow laughed, and he playfully slapped her ass.

"Luv, is it possible you respected me more before I got my fangs back?"


Spike showed up at Giles's the following night, his body blissed from several hours of Willow. She was the last one to arrive, her eyes a little red, but her expression calm.

"Will! Hey, it's Will. And … no Tara? Hey, what if we need a little magic mojo going?"

Willow gave Xander an annoyed glance that made Spike grin. And then her eyes found his. She quirked a mischievous smile and crossed the room, slipping onto his lap and causing Chubs's jaw to drop.

"Oh," Anya remarked pointedly, while Xander leapt up and jabbed his finger frantically at them.

"He's evil! Willow's a vampire! He made her a vampire! Stake! Stake!"

Giles had his eyebrows raised at Willow on Spike's lap, but remained unconcerned. "I didn't need to invite Willow in, Xander. She is most certainly not a vampire."

"It's true," Willow shrugged. "All living and breathing here. And, if any magic mojo needs to be done, I can more than handle."

"But the whole … lap thing," Buffy said weakly.

"Oh, I like it," Spike offered, wrapping an arm about Willow's waist. And look at that, she was wearing a nice, midriff-baring top. And he only had a T shirt on. All that skin against skin …

Willow suddenly laughed, burrowing her head against his.

"So you do," she whispered in his ear, then straightened to face her friends. "Spike and I have decided to take our relationship to the next level. Instead of fear and threats …"

She sighed lustily, and bent forward slightly to impart the secret.

"We have smoochies. And …" Willow frowned. "There's really no good thing I can say here."

"Will's tryin' to say that I'm not in need of vampire Viagra anymore, kids." He grinned idiotically at them.

Buffy stood slowly, her hands working on an ever-present stake.

Spike slanted a meaningful look at her actions.

"Well, that works too."

The Slayer blushed crimson, while Willow dissolved into laughter against his chest. He rested his head against hers, calming watching the others.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Buffy asked, regaining her composure.

He gave a regretful sigh, meeting her eyes. "I'm a laughingstock in this town. And so I'm going to make this town my own again, on my terms. Might happen to work in with your plan, but I can't help that, can I?"

"You're still going to help us? You're not going to go all evil on us?"

"There's no morning after here," Spike said intently, shaking his head. Slayer drew back slightly at his words, but they struck the right chord. "I am evil, and this is what I want."

"And Willow?" Giles put in, very low.

"Up to her," Spike replied flatly. "No pressure from me. It's Willow's choice."

"Ehhh," Buffy sighed, shrugging. "Well, congratulations, guys. Now, this Deevak demon that the Enrique prophecy is going on about -"

"The Unruhe Prophecy," Giles interjected.

"It's supposed to be pretty big, but stupid, so if you guys distract it, I can get in and stake it or whatever I'm supposed to do. When is it going to be here, Giles?"

"Well, my best estimates say that -"

"Hey, but what about Tara?" Xander interrupted. "You know, the whole girl-girl thing that we like to hear so much about …" He looked around. "Okay, that I like to hear about."

Willow guiltily snatched her hand from beneath Spike's T shirt, but smiled calmly. "Tara and I broke up this afternoon. I have girl-boy stories," she added brightly.

Xander looked over at Spike with a sick look.

"Yeah, I'm okay."


Spike wangled out of patrol, Buffy rolling her eyes but admitting that like most summers in Sunnydale, things were quiet. And so he headed back to Willow's parents house, looking forward to his first time in her home, and not even bothered by the mum and dad types.

They walked hand in hand, enjoying the moonlight and quiet streets. Willow looked up at the full moon as they crossed her porch, a small smile on her face. Then she invited him in.

"Still not scared of me?" he queried, mock sighing.

"Not a bit," she replied smoothly. She paused, watching him carefully. "I think I might be in love with you."

He watched her carefully back, then grinned. "Oh, well. I've loved you for something like forever, now."

She smiled at him, one of those sun-coming-up smiles that went straight to his stomach like a gut-punch. Well, a good gut-punch.

"So you might love me, therefore not scared of me?"

"I trust you," Willow said softly. "That's how we can be together. It's all about trust."

"You trust me," he echoed. That felt kind of good.

"I trust you not to go psycho on me, or drink too much from me, and you trust me not to zap your eyeballs out."

He blinked.

"Zap my eyeballs out, huh? You can do that?"

"Oh yeah."

He gulped slightly.

"Well, pet, I might love you … but the trust could take a little working on."

She nodded, and started to draw him to the stairs. "Okay."

He would fall for someone who could zap his eyeballs out.


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