Title: Love is a Mystery
	Author: Kat, a.k.a. KallieRose
	E-mail: KallieRose@earthlink.net
	Rating:  PG-13 for character death.  But believe it or 
	not, this is kind of a fluffy fic, with a little angst 
	thrown in. 
	Pairing: Spike/Willow, Angel/Fred, Xander/Anya
	Distribution:  If you want it, just ask, and you're 
	welcome to it.
	Disclaimer: It's all someone else's.  Josh and co. own 
	the characters, Agatha Christie owns large portions of 
	the story.
	Summary: The Scoobies and Angel and Fred find themselves 
	stuck on a deserted island.  
	Spoilers: Takes place sometime after season 5, I guess.  
	Spike's chipped and helping the Scoobies, Angel and Fred 
	are back from Pylea.  It's pretty AU though.
	Feedback: pretty pretty please!  
	A/N:  This story is a little different from some of my 
	usual ones in that it's more of a mystery/adventure than 
	a romance.  Hopefully you guys will like it anyway  :-)
	A/N2:  Thanks to Feen for giving this the once-over, and 
	to everyone else who saw bits and pieces of it and 
	encouraged me to post it.  



Buffy came running through the front door of the Magic Box at 
full throttle, her excitement almost palpable.  Her eyes 
scanned the interior of the store eagerly, looking anxiously 
for any customers or strangers that she might not want 
hearing her news.  Her eyes took in Xander and Willow, 
sitting around the table, heads looking up at her from their 
books.  Over in the corner she spied Spike, lounging 
comfortably in a plush chair, his blond hair sticking out and 
making him easy to identify.  She frowned at him, then her 
eyes flickered over to the door to the stockroom, where she 
could hear Giles and Anya discussing some item or other in 
dour tones.

"Guess what I've got, guess what I've got," she called out 
eagerly in her sing-song voice.

"A nasty case of the clap, if there's any justice in this 
world," Spike muttered quietly, giving the slayer a 
disgruntled look.  He'd been idly watching the redhead as she 
bent over her book, the graceful curve of her neck reminding 
him of all the things he couldn't have until that damned chip 
was taken out of his head.  

Xander quickly stifled a laugh, and looked suitably guilty as 
Buffy turned to look at him.

"What was that, Spike?" she asked uncertainly, shooting a 
hostile look towards the vampire.  She hadn't paid attention 
to what the blond had said to her, she'd been to wrapped up 
in her excitement, but she suspected that she'd just been 
insulted.

Spike looked back at her, the picture of innocence, and Buffy 
immediately forgot about him, as her mind drifted back to the 
reason for her earlier exhilaration.

"Giles," she called, her voice penetrating into the storeroom 
and bringing and Giles and Anya back into the store.

"Yes, Buffy, what is it?  Anya and I are rather busy at the 
moment.  Could it wait a bit?" he asked fretfully.

"Yes.  We are *quite* busy, as you can see," Anya snapped, 
grabbing Giles' arm and pulling him back towards the 
storeroom.  "By my count, we are short by at least 20 eyes of 
newt, and if someone is stealing from me...er, from Giles," 
she shot him a look to see if he had noticed her slight 
gaffe, "Then I, for one, want to know who."  The ex-demon 
eyed the others in the shop suspiciously, and when her eyes 
reached Willow, she looked as if she wanted to ask the 
redhead to turn out her pockets.  Instead, she settled for 
giving Buffy a look of pure annoyance.

"Anya, honey," Xander said, eyeing his girlfriend anxiously, 
"Remember that talk we had about rampant paranoia, and about 
how you needed to learn to *trust* your friends?"

"But Xander, the calculator said so," Anya whined. "And 
unlike humans," she continued caustically, "the calculator 
doesn't lie." She shot Xander a look that clearly said 'so 
there' and then turned back to Giles.

"Okay, we're *so* getting away from the point here," Buffy 
interjected, bringing all eyes in the room back to her.  "And 
the point here is me, and what I have in my hand."  She waved 
an off-white envelope gaily in front of her, and then handed 
it to Giles.

"Read it, Giles, and tell me if you think it's true.  Oh 
please, let it be true," the slayer enthused, practically 
bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in her 
excitement.

All eyes were on Giles as he carefully took the envelope 
Buffy had handed him and opened it up, his natural curiosity 
showing on his face.  After what seemed like a millennia to 
the impatient Slayer, he folded the letter up and put it back 
into the envelope.  

"Well that is *quite* amazing," he remarked in a rather 
surprised tone of voice.  At that remark, even Spike managed 
to stop looking bored for a moment as he waited for the ex-
Watcher to tell them what was in the letter.

"So Giles, do you think it's real?  Please?  Can we go?  
Pretty pretty please?"  Buffy snatched the envelope back out 
of Giles' hand and opened it, eyes scanning the page again 
eagerly.

"What does it say, Giles?  Go where Buffy?" Willow was 
confused.

"Yeah, what *she* said," Xander added, pointing towards his 
redheaded friend.

"Well," Giles began, "this letter purports to be from Quentin 
Travers, from the Watchers Council.  In short, he says that 
he regrets the rift that has formed between the Slayer and 
the Council, and hopes that he can start working to rebuild 
the relationship.  To further that wish, he has offered 
Buffy, and her friends, a visit to a private retreat that the 
council owns in Washington State."  Giles stopped momentarily 
as he heard gasps of surprise from the others, and a giggle 
of excitement from his slayer.

"He goes on to say that the lodge is fully stocked with 
enough food and drink to entertain you for a week.  Also, 
since they are aware that Spike is helping you, they have 
provided for him as well and have stocked the refrigerator 
with enough blood to keep him comfortable for that same 
amount of time."

"Do you think this is really from the Council, Giles?" Willow 
asked wonderingly.  The thought of a vacation, both from 
slaying and from 'real life' was such a welcome relief. Each 
and every member of the group was smiling his or her own 
private smile and daydreaming about what kind of fun they 
could have if they were free from the restraints of their 
day-to-day life.

"Well I'll certainly call and speak to Travers myself to 
ascertain his motives, but I suspect that this letter, and 
the offer it contains, is genuine."  Giles smiled slightly as 
he saw the grins that creased Willow and Buffy's faces.  Both 
women were so young, and yet had lived through so much.  If 
they could be provided with a short respite from their 
responsibilities, he would do all he could to make that 
happen.

"And just who will be watching the Hellmouth while all this 
is going on?" asked Spike.  He was all for a vacation as much 
as any of the others, but he was not willing to ignore the 
big picture.

"Ah-ha," muttered Anya.  "I knew this was too good to be 
true.  And who will watch over m--the shop while we're gone?" 
she asked anxiously.  

Giles watched their smiles falter just a bit, but he would 
not let little matters like that destroy their excitement.  
"Travers has mentioned that he has several operatives that he 
would like to patrol the hellmouth, and he will be sending 
them out at the end of the week, assuming that we accept his 
proposal.  We will have a week to train them and show them 
the ropes, and then we can leave.  Now as for the shop," he 
faltered a bit there, knowing that Anya would not like his 
next words, "I propose that we close the shop down for a 
week."

"But--" The words were out of Anya's mouth before he even 
closed his own.

"No but's, Anya," Xander told her, getting up and walking 
over to her.  He put his arm comfortably around her shoulder 
and whispered into her ear.  She giggled like a schoolgirl, 
and then coyly grabbed his hand and they headed for the door 
of the shop.

"We can count more things tomorrow, okay, Giles?" she yelled 
as the two lovers hurried out of the shop, in search of the 
nearest bed, dark alley, or shady tree.



And so it was that a scant three weeks later, the slayer and 
five slayerettes set foot on Cemetery Island, part of the San 
Juan Islands, just north of Seattle, Washington.  True to 
their word, the council sent several operatives that Buffy 
had worked with, and eventually she had given them her slayer 
seal of crunchy goodness approval.  Privately, she hoped 
there would be no end-of-the-world catastrophes while they 
were gone.  She was comfortable leaving the slaying with them 
for a week, but anything more serious than a vampire would 
probably leave them quivering in terror.  

The flight from Sunnydale to Seattle had been uneventful. And 
even though Xander and Anya had both gotten a little seasick 
on the small yacht that had taken them to the private island, 
there was still an air of joyful abandon about the young 
adults that the watcher and the vampire somewhat envied.  Of 
course they would never admit it to anyone else.

It was shortly after 11pm, and the dark wintery skies 
combined with the lack of city lights to create a complete 
and total darkness.  Small torches lit the way up a steep 
path to the house that towered over them.  They watched the 
yacht pull out and head back to Stuart Island, the nearest 
inhabited land.  There was something rather lonely-looking 
about the small boat, as it headed back to land, Giles 
thought, but before he could ponder exactly why that was, he 
heard Buffy's voice urging them to head up the hill towards 
the house.

Spike spared a glance towards the large house that seemed to 
loom over them.  Seemed more like a mansion, really, he 
thought.  It was a huge stone building, with little touches 
here and there and fine detail to the stonework that made it 
obvious that this house had been built long ago.  Back when 
words like craftsmanship and detail actually meant something, 
he thought with satisfaction.

As Willow scrambled up the path, she decided that she must 
have gotten lost inside a medieval fairy tale.  The house 
they were approaching seemed to her more like an ancient 
castle from the days of King Arthur's court than the 'lodge' 
promised by the Council.  She wished she were wearing 
something fancier than jeans and a t-shirt; it just didn't 
seem to do justice to their surroundings.

Finally they reached the huge doorway of the house.  Buffy 
knew that they were expected, but she wasn't sure whether 
they should knock, or just walk in.  After a minute of 
discussion, Xander took the lead and clacked the brass 
knocker on the sturdy wood door.  The sound seemed to echo 
back and forth inside the house, and although they strained 
their ears, no one, not even Spike, could hear the slightest 
sign of movement from within.

After waiting for a minute, Spike decided that although 
patience had its virtues, he wasn't the least bit interested 
in being virtuous.  The others were welcome to stand out 
there all night if they wanted, but he was getting hungry.  
He moved the others out of the way, none too politely, and 
grasped the knob confidently, turning it and opening the 
heavy door.  "Yo!" he yelled out.  "Anyone home?"

There was no response to his query except the sound of his 
own voice, echoing back to him from within the house.  
Convinced by his senses that there was nobody waiting in 
ambush, the vampire strode into the building, his eyes 
sweeping the room appraisingly.  He turned back to the 
others, still standing on the threshold of the house, and 
told them, "Nobody here.  Might as well come in."

One by one they entered the house, each one surveying the 
room curiously.  The foyer was huge, and dominated by twin 
marble staircases that lead up to the second floor.  Off to 
the left was another large room that resembled a library, 
complete with case upon case of books.  Willow immediately 
made a path for that room, her fingers and eyes roving the 
titles reverently.  She sighed, a sound of pure contentment, 
as Giles came to stand beside her.

"Look, Giles, they have the Chronicles of the Dead and the 
Septariat Compendium...the unabridged version.  This is 
wonderful," she positively glowed with enthusiasm, cursing 
the human need for sleep.  Now that she'd seen the library, 
she didn't know how she was going to tear herself away from 
it.

Giles followed her lead, amazed by the sheer magnitude of 
ancient texts the large room contained.  "Indeed, Willow," he 
spoke in hushed tones, "I could lose myself in this room for 
days and be *quite* happy.  Well, except for that pesky need 
for sleep."

Willow giggled, surprised yet pleased that their thoughts 
were so similar.  Before she could say anything further, a 
shout of excitement reached her ears.  Curious to find out 
what was going on, she left Giles to his contemplations and 
went back into the foyer.

The excited exclamation seemed to have come from the opposite 
direction, from the room directly to the right of the front 
door.  Curiosity still spurring her onward, Willow quickly 
entered the room, her interested eyes taking in the 
occupants.

Xander and Spike had found some sort of a gaming system, she 
saw, and had immediately gone to work trying to beat the crap 
out of each other, just like old times.  Only this time they 
were using some sort of a boxing game to do it.  Willow 
watched as Spike's long fingers deftly manipulated the 
controller in his hands, letting out an occasional yelp or 
triumphant shout as the game continued.

Xander, on the other hand, seemed much less at ease with the 
game.  His hands held the controller awkwardly, as if this 
game was something new to him.  Anya stood behind her 
boyfriend, whispering words of encouragement to him, which he 
promptly ignored.

"There, make your little man hit him there, and that will 
hurt him.  No, wait, there," she added, as Spike, hearing her 
chatter, moved his character slightly.  "Spike, stop moving 
your little character.  How is my Xander going to beat you if 
you keep moving?" she asked in frustration, giving the blond 
vampire a venomous look.

Spike merely looked at her impassively and then gave her a 
slightly maniacal grin.  He had this game at home, something 
he had failed to mention to the others, and he was *not* 
going to let some overgrown teenager beat him. Besides, he 
had 100-plus years of fighting experience on his side; he 
*deserved* to win.

Willow soon tired of watching the boys play.  Her eyes 
cataloged the room as she passed through it, taking in the 
big-screen TV and the large number of comfortable chairs and 
couches surrounding it.  There was also what seemed to be a 
fully stocked bar in back of a large ornate gaming table.  
The room's colors were primarily dark reds and greens, and 
like the rest of the house so far, the room was without 
windows.  The young witch knew that there were windows on the 
upper floors of the house, probably in the bedrooms, but the 
lower level, which contained all of the common rooms, seemed 
to be without them.  She had been surprised by that fact, but 
she supposed that that was one of the reasons the Council had 
decided to send them here, since they knew that Spike was 
with them.

As she passed into the next room, Willow gasped in surprise.  
She had walked into a large formal dining hall.  The table 
was definitely the centerpiece of the room...long and wooden, 
mostly covered by a soft cream-colored tablecloth.  Several 
silver candelabras dotted the length of it, the dark green 
candles looking tall and elegant in their fittings.  Each 
place at the table was fully set, and Willow could see that 
there were sufficient place settings for eight people total.  
The pretty redhead was slightly confused...there were only 
six of them in their party, yet the table was definitely set 
for eight.  The only explanation that came to mind was that 
perhaps their host and his or her spouse might be joining 
them at some point.

As she headed out through the other end of the dining room, 
Willow came upon the kitchen.  It was immaculate, the modern 
appliances and conveniences sparkling as if unused.  As she 
opened the refrigerator, she noticed that there was, indeed, 
plenty of food for all of them.  In addition to human food, 
she saw a separate bag with the Red Cross emblem emblazoned 
across it. From the look of it, the blood was human.  Willow 
grinned wryly:  Spike would never want to leave this place.  
He'd be drinking something besides pig's blood for the first 
time in quite a while, and would probably enjoy the hell out 
of it.

The redhead frowned slightly when she counted the bags, 
realizing that there was enough blood to keep the handsome 
vampire fed for far longer than the week they were supposed 
to be staying here.  Well, maybe they could figure out some 
way to package some of it up in a cooler; then Spike could 
eat leftovers when they got back to Sunnydale.

When she closed the refrigerator door, Willow noticed a small 
folded note taped to the front.  Curious, she opened the note 
and quickly scanned the contents:

     Dear Guests,

     Please excuse our absence; an emergency has come up and
     we will be unable to join you just now.  The servants
     will be along in the morning, and at that time all your
     needs will be seen to.  In the meantime, we've 
     left a small midnight snack for you in the
     refrigerator.  Enjoy. 

     Sincerely,

     Your Hosts



One week earlier, in Los Angeles

Angel stood deep in thought at the base of the stairway, a 
cream-colored envelope held loosely in one hand.  

"What is that you're holding there?" Wesley asked curiously 
as he left his office and headed for the front door.  When 
the scruffy ex-watcher received no sign of acknowledgement 
from the dark vampire, he looked at him again, noting the 
unfocused look on his face.  "Angel?" he asked, breaking 
through the older man's reverie.

"Sorry Wes, my mind must have been elsewhere," he 
acknowledged wryly.  "I guess I've got an announcement to 
make," he added.  Could you rally the troops and have 
everyone meet in the lobby in about ten minutes?"

"Certainly, Angel."

"So what's the big deal, Mister Broody," asked Cordelia as 
she perched comfortably on the couch.

Fred and Gunn sat on either side of her, and Wesley and Lorne 
stood next to the davenport.  Angel paced the floor in front 
of them uneasily, although the reason for his nervousness was 
as yet unclear.

"Well, now that you're all here, I guess I can start," Angel 
decided.  "I got this envelope by special messenger earlier 
today."  He held up the envelope that Wesley had seen him 
handling earlier, and now he opened it and started reading it 
aloud to the assembled group.


	Dear Mister Angel,
	
	I have heard that your Angel Investigations has a 
	reputation of being both discreet and effective.  I find 
	myself in need of both qualities,	and would like to 
	talk to you and your people about the possibility of 
	coming to work for me.  

	I would like to arrange a meeting at my retreat in the 
	San Juan Islands so that I can explain my situation to 
	you in more detail.  

	Please let me know if you and your staff would be 
	available to meet with me on the weekend of the 19th.

	Sincerely,
	
	Mr. Owen  


"So what do you guys think?  Is this Mr. Owen for real?" 
Angel asked the assembled group.  

Wesley put out a hand to receive the letter from Angel, and 
quickly scanned the piece of paper for anything that the 
vampire might have missed.

"I have to admit, I have some reservations about this," 
confided Wesley. "Sending the entire team out of the area is 
highly unorthodox.  We have responsibilities, and clients, in 
Los Angeles that need our attention.  We can't all be 
expected to jump on the first flight up to the," he hesitated 
as he scanned the letter again, "San Juan Islands."  He 
frowned thoughtfully, trying to make up his mind.  "Perhaps 
sending a small contingent would be appropriate?  You, Angel, 
and one or two others."

"Don't you *even* look in my direction," Cordelia scolded 
both the vampire and the ex-watcher.  "I've heard about how 
it is up there.  It rains *constantly* and there's all kinds 
of wilderness and stuff.  Besides coffee, what else does that 
state have going for it?"

Fred, who had heretofore sat silently in the corner, snuck 
quietly into the conversation.  "I...I wouldn't mind going," 
she said softly.  "It might be nice to be someplace different 
for once.  And the rain doesn't bother me.  It's...kind of 
cleansing, I used to think."

Angel gave the young woman a grateful smile.  "Thanks, Fred.  
I think you and I would be enough of a presence.  The rest of 
the crew can stay in L.A.  We could leave tomorrow evening 
and spend the day in Seattle, then head out to the island 
early the next evening.  Sound okay to you?"

"Sure," the brunette replied eagerly.  She was looking 
forward to spending some time with her good friend.  Everyone 
at Angel Investigations was wonderful, but she'd always felt 
an extra connection to Angel, something dating back to those 
terrible days in Pylea.  He may be a vampire, but he had 
always done his best to make her feel comfortable and 
appreciated.  Fred would never be able to repay him for that 
kindness.

*********************************************

"Wiiiiiilow," yelled Buffy, the words shaking the redhead out 
of her perusal of the note from their hosts.  She folded the 
missive up and put it in her pocket, then raced out of a door 
at the other end of the kitchen, finding herself back in the 
foyer, as she suspected she might.  The door was unobtrusive 
from the large foyer, and unless someone knew it was there, 
it would have gone unnoticed to any but the most careful 
observer.

"Heeeey Wiiiiilow," Buffy called again, her voice louder this 
time.

"Coming," Willow yelled back, smiling for joy at the ability 
to make noise.  Living in the dorms had been a wonderful 
experience, but having so many people on the other side of 
the wall, and having to be quiet and considerate all the 
time, left a bit to be desired.  It was fun to be able to 
yell out and not worry about waking someone, or disturbing 
someone's studies.

She raced up the stairs, listening to the tat-tat-tat of her 
shoes as they clicked on the marble. As the redhead hit the 
top of the stairway, she laid eyes on the slayer who was 
grinning happily as she danced around the hallway at the top 
of the stairs.

"Isn't this place just unbelievable?" she asked, gesturing to 
door after door.  "There are over a dozen rooms up here!  And 
Willow," she added quietly, "we're first, so we get to choose 
whichever ones we want."

Willow grinned at her friend's enthusiasm.  With the lack of 
responsibility and the chance to enjoy herself, the blonde 
Slayer looked much like she had when Willow first met her 
back in high school, before years of tragedy and strain put 
harsh lines around her eyes and on her face.  It was good to 
see Buffy looking so happy again, Willow decided.

She linked arms with her friend, and one by one they opened 
each of the rooms and explored what was contained within.  
Each room was different.  The first one was decorated in a 
nautical theme, complete with a waterbed.  A second was done 
up all in pastel pinks and greens.  Yet another housed walls 
covered with bookshelves.  The girls finally chose two 
bedrooms near the front of the house.  Buffy's room was 
reminiscent of her Slayer heritage.  A collection of stakes 
and other weapons dotted the room here and there, 
interspersed with pictures of young girls of all time periods 
and nationalities.  They all, however, had the same 
determined glint in their eyes that Willow had noticed in 
Buffy's eyes so many time over the years.

Willow chose the room with the bookshelves, of course.  An 
additional plus was that it was located next to Buffy's room, 
and the two rooms actually shared a common bathroom through 
connecting doors on either side of the room.  Before anyone 
could argue, both girls grabbed their luggage and unpacked, 
mingling their meager possessions with what was there already 
to give each room a "lived-in" feel.

As they finished reorganizing the bathroom, a loud pounding 
sound startled them and brought them running into the main 
hallway.  The others had paused their activities as well, and 
soon they all met at the bottom of the stairs, in front of 
the large front door.

"Perhaps our hosts are making their rather tardy appearance?" 
Giles suggested.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you guys," Willow mentioned guiltily, 
"But I found this note in the kitchen.  Our hosts have left 
us to our own devices, at least for the night.  I don't know 
who this is, but I doubt it's them.  Besides, if it's their 
place, why would they knock?"

"Good question," agreed Buffy, nodding.  

Whoever was at the door banged again, and everyone jumped in 
guilty surprise.  

"I don't want to hear that sound anymore, it's annoying," 
Anya said crossly.  Seeing that nobody else was in much of a 
hurry to do anything about it, she finally walked to the door 
herself and opened it.  

Outside the door were the last two people that any of them 
had ever expected to see.  

"An...Angel?" Buffy asked hesitantly, not believing that her 
former flame was really standing in front of her.  The rest 
of the gang crowded behind her, surveying the dark vampire 
with varying levels of surprise and unease.

"Buffy?" Angel blinked twice, as if expecting the blonde 
before him to disappear from his sight once he had cleared 
his vision.  "What are you doing here?"

Fred stood quietly behind Angel, confusion flickering in the 
depths of her hazel eyes.  She had heard Angel talk about 
Buffy and the Sunnydale contingent before; she had even met 
Willow briefly, when she had come to inform them of Buffy's 
death.  She could not, however, understand what they would be 
doing here, of all places.  This was supposed to be a 
business meeting, wasn't it?

Angel's eyes surveyed the occupants of the hallway:  Buffy, 
Willow, Xander and the Watcher he knew well.  Anya was 
somewhat of an unknown.  He'd seen her before once or twice, 
but didn't know her well.  And behind the ex-demon, his eyes 
focused on his childe.  His Spike.  He hadn't seen Spike 
since the time the younger vampire had come to L.A. and tried 
to steal the Gem of Amara.  Things between them had been bad 
since then.  Although he was aware that Spike was working 
with Buffy and her friends, he still didn't trust his wayward 
childe completely.  Spike always had an agenda, and if he was 
helping the slayer, it was because it serviced his purposes 
to do so.   He gave Spike a curt nod, and then turned his 
attention back to Buffy.

"Errrmmph," Giles said, clearing his throat in an attempt to 
get everyone's attention and to regain control of the 
situation, "Would you mind telling us exactly what you're 
doing here, Angel? "

"That's funny, Giles," the vampire replied, smiling lightly, 
"I was about to ask you the same thing."



"I was called here for a business meeting," Angel informed 
the ex-Watcher.  He took Fred's hand and drew her to his 
side.  "Everyone, this is Fred.  She works with me in L.A."

The willowy young woman with long auburn hair smiled 
nervously; she was obviously uneasy around so many strangers.  
"Hi," she said quickly, giving a small wave of her hand.  Her 
anxious eyes flitted from face to face, trying to figure out 
exactly what was going on here.

"So *my* question would seem to be," Angel said, as he 
stepped across the threshold and entered the large house, 
pulling a reluctant Fred behind him, "What are you people 
doing here?  I have to assume that you're not here for a 
business meeting, so why exactly *are* you here?"

"The Council, trying to make amends for the rather shabby way 
they've treated Buffy, has set us up here for the week," 
Giles told him.  "We are to have free reign of the house and 
the island for that time, after which they will return us to 
Sunnydale.  In Buffy's absence, they have sent reinforcements 
to take over patrolling and the day-to-day activities on the 
Hellmouth.

The ex-librarian motioned them all into the living room, the 
room Xander and Spike had occupied earlier while playing 
their game.  Soon they were all sitting comfortably on the 
various chairs and sofas in the room, and Giles went to put 
some tea on in the kitchen.  It looked as though there was 
something odd going on, and if they were going to have to 
figure out what it was, tea was definitely in order.

As Anya watched on jealously, Xander and Willow attempted to 
engage Fred in conversation.  Meanwhile, Buffy and Angel 
slipped back into the hallway for a talk of their own.

"What do you make of this, Buffy?" Angel asked her, his voice 
low and edgy.  

The blonde looked at him, remembering how much they had once 
meant to each other, and was rather surprised to feel nothing 
but a small ache, instead of the severe pain that seeing him 
used to invoke.  Was she finally over him?  The thought made 
her smile sadly, but it really was for the best, she knew.  
What they had, while exciting and wonderful, had been a case 
of first love, young love.  Now she was older and wiser, and 
she knew that she wanted someone who would be able to be 
there for her in every way.  Someone who would be able to 
share the things that she loved about life:  her friends, her 
family, and her love of the light.  With Angel she could 
never have had that. When he had left her for exactly those 
reasons, it had almost torn her to pieces.  Now she realized 
how right he had been.

When she responded to his question, it was as the slayer and 
not as his soulmate.  She was all business.  "I don't know, 
Angel.  I don't suppose the business meeting you were 
supposed to be having here was with a representative of the 
Council, was it?  I mean, of course it wasn't, you would have 
mentioned it if it was.  Duh, silly question."

"No, not silly, but yes, you're right.  In fact, I still have 
the letter here."  He pulled out the cream-colored envelope 
and handed it to Buffy, watching her as she quickly scanned 
the contents. 

"Hmm...so they invited the whole gang, did they?  Why were 
you and Fred the only ones that showed?"

"Well, we decided that just in case this *was* something 
weird, we didn't want to have everyone stuck out here.  So I 
volunteered and so did Fred, and everyone else stayed home to 
hold down the fort."

Buffy noticed a certain protectiveness in Angel's voice when 
he mentioned Fred, and wondered if there was anything between 
them.  She knew it was none of her business, so she only 
answered back with the simple words, "Fred seems nice."

Angel nodded earnestly.  He did have a growing affection for 
the newest member of Angel Investigations, and was hoping 
that during this trip they would have a chance to get to know 
each other a little better.  "She's a good kid.  Had a rough 
time recently, but I think she's finally starting to get over 
it and return to the real world."

Buffy didn't ask for any particulars, and Angel didn't offer 
any, so they got back to the topic du jour, that being their 
odd circumstances.  "So do you think the Council set this 
up?" she asked him uneasily.

"I guess they could have.  It certainly wouldn't have taken 
many of their resources to do it.  I just can't imagine why 
though.  If they wanted to get at me, it would have been easy 
enough.  Or if they wanted to get at you, again, they could 
have.  But why bring all of us here together?  It just 
doesn't make any sense to me."

"You're right, of course," Buffy said, rubbing her forehead 
tiredly.  They had all been up since early morning, and it 
was now closing in on two in the morning.  "I don't know, 
maybe we should just try to settle in for the night and then 
figure it out in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Angel agreed.  But there was 
still a hint of uneasiness hiding in the depths of his dark 
brown eyes, and no matter how hard he tried to quell it, it 
remained.

As they rejoined the others, Buffy plastered a confident 
smile back on her face and told her friends that although 
they still had no clue what was going on, as far as she was 
concerned, the best plan was to get a good night's sleep and 
then tackle the puzzle in the morning.

Xander and Anya had been smothering yawns for some time now, 
and the ex-demon was still curious about how much fun it 
would be to have sex in a stranger's bed, so the two of them 
headed out the door and up to the bedrooms.

"I do hope I'll be able to find a room far, far away from 
them," Giles commented as he watched the pair disappear from 
view.  

"Yeah, they do tend to be a bit, erm, 'enthusiastic' in their 
enjoyment," Willow agreed, a slight flush of embarrassment 
coloring her skin.  Angel smiled as he saw her blush; even 
after everything she had been through in her young life, she 
could still manage to blush just like an innocent schoolgirl.  
He found the trait rather endearing, for some reason.

The dark vampire looked around the room and saw his childe's 
eyes focused on him.  Spike had seen him looking at Willow, 
and for some reason that fact had made the younger vamp 
angry, perhaps even jealous.  Did Spike have feelings for the 
little hacker?  It was certainly possible.  And considering 
the way things were, Angel was sure that his childe would 
never say anything.  He had been love's bitch too many times 
to just put his heart out there to be broken again.  And 
since Willow probably had no idea of Spike's feelings, or at 
least he assumed that was the case, the two would never get 
together without a little help.  

Well, Angel thought to himself, this weekend was shaping up 
to be *quite* the interesting gathering.

The remaining six chatted briefly in a desultory fashion.  
Fred and Willow had discovered some common interests and were 
looking forward to discussing them the next morning.  The 
rest of the group were looking a bit sleepy, so finally they 
all trekked their way up the stairs.  Those who had not 
already laid claim to a room quickly did.  Spike snagged the 
room next to Willow's, while Giles grabbed the one next to 
Spike.  Fred and Angel both took rooms across the hallway 
from the others.  Much to everyone's relief, Xander and Anya 
seemed to be occupying one of the rooms at the far end of the 
hall, and although they heard muffled thumps from time to 
time, that was the only evidence they heard of the couple's 
activities.

After a long day, and an even longer evening, everyone except 
the two vampires fell asleep quickly.  After a half hour or 
so, Spike emerged from his room still wide-awake and full of 
energy.  He padded down to the kitchen to check out some of 
the promised blood, and when he reached the door he saw that 
his sire had already beaten him to it.  

Grunting quietly in acknowledgement, Spike opened the 
refrigerator and grabbed a bag of blood, tearing the packet 
open and pouring the contents into a large mug, which he then 
stuck in the microwave.  Once the blood was warm, he grabbed 
it and plunked himself down at the kitchen table across from 
Angel.

"So what do you make of this, sire?  Is someone playing games 
with us?" he asked curiously.  "Because I get the feeling 
that someone is, but I'll be damned if I know who, or why."



The brooding vampire lifted his head and turned his soft 
brown eyes towards Spike.  He was still for a moment, 
considering his childe's question. 

"I'd tend to agree with you.  There was a deliberate attempt 
to lure us all here, to an isolated, out-of-the-way place.  I 
didn't want to say anything to Buffy, but yeah, I can't help 
but feel a little uneasy."

"That had to be weird," Spike offered casually, "seeing the 
slayer again, I mean."

"I won't disagree," his sire confirmed solemnly.  "But I 
think we both know that it's really over.  Despite what you 
said all those years ago, we *can* just be friends.  Maybe we 
couldn't back then," he acknowledged, "but we've grown apart.  
And matured."

"Plus there's that cute little brunette I saw earlier," Spike 
reminded his elder, a devilish glint in his crystal blue 
eyes.  "She's quite a bit of all right, if I do say so."  

Angel glared at the blond, wondering how much to say.  
Sometimes with Spike, the more he felt you were hiding, the 
deeper he would dig.  The dark vampire fought his first 
impulse to be silent and finally decided to be honest.  "Yes, 
I have feelings for Fred," he admitted, giving a deep sigh.  
"But if my experience with Buffy taught me anything, it's 
that giving in to my feelings can be dangerous.  Too 
dangerous.  We don't want a repeat of..." his voice trailed 
off. Both vampires lost themselves in thoughts of Angelus as 
they drank their blood reflectively, 

"Yeah," Spike agreed softly, stopping to lick a stray rivulet 
of blood from his lips.  "Last bloody thing in the world that 
we need now is a return of that bastard."  

Slightly stung by his childe's response, Angel decided to 
throw a little barb of his own.  A lazy smirk on his lips, he 
remarked casually, "Speaking of easy on the eyes, what's 
going on with you and Willow, Spike?  I caught that look you 
gave me earlier.  Got some feelings of your own that you're 
hiding?"

Spike's eyes slid away from his sire's, casually surveying 
the room as if it were the most interesting place in the 
world.  Angel knew his childe well.  Knew that the blond was 
using the time to fabricate an answer that he thought would 
be sufficiently close to the truth, without giving anything 
real away.

"She's a good kid," he conceded finally, bringing his 
guileless blue eyes back to meet chocolate brown ones.  "I 
look out for her now and then.  It's amazing how naˆØve she 
can still be, even after all these years and all she's gone 
through."

Angel nodded, not surprised that Spike's thoughts about the 
redhead were so similar to his own.  He stood and took both 
their empty mugs, placing them in the sink and running some 
water over them.  "Ready to head up?" he asked.

Spike yawned, stretching as he stood.  "Yeah, might as well 
try to get some sleep.  I'm sure the rest will be up early, 
full of questions and theories.  Hell, the damn watcher will 
probably have us researching and reading.  There's a huge 
stinkin' library here, did you know?"  He snorted in disgust, 
before adding, "Just my bloody luck.  First vacation I get in 
years, and I'm going to have to spend the whole time 
working."




Fred lay in bed, watching the wind and the sunlight cause 
shadows to dance around the walls of her bedroom.  The tree 
outside her room was whipping to and fro with wind's the 
effort.  Her mind was never quiet, and this morning was no 
exception.  Well, except that technically speaking it was 
probably afternoon.  It had been a late night, what with the 
boat trip out to Cemetery Island, and then the confusion and 
explanations that ensued after their arrival.

She shuddered slightly as she considered the name of the 
island.  Hopefully that wasn't a sign of things to come.  
There was definitely something wrong with the situation here, 
but whether it was just innocent mischief, or a larger, more 
serious conspiracy, the young woman wasn't sure.  Fred had 
spent a lot of time with Angel over the past year or so.  
Enough time to know when something was bothering him.  And 
despite the somewhat upbeat face that he tried to put on this 
situation, he was definitely uneasy.  Therefore, Fred was 
uneasy as well.

They all seemed harmless enough.  Well, harmless enough for a 
slayer, a vampire, an ex-demon, and a witch.  Plus the two 
normal human men.  

She had enjoyed talking to Willow last night.  The two women 
seemed to have a lot in common, including a keen, questioning 
mind and a shy, quiet faˆßade.  She hoped that they would 
have a chance to discuss some theories and ideas she had 
regarding the Zenozian prophecies.

Spike was a bit of an enigma to her.  She knew that the 
younger vampire and Angel had a history together.  Just how 
'together' they had been, she wasn't sure.  There had been 
some bad blood between them in the past, she knew, but they 
had seemed polite enough last night.  Still, there was 
something about the blond that she just didn't trust.

The watcher, along with the ex-demon and the boy, were of no 
serious concern.  They seemed nice enough, but probably 
wouldn't be of much use if the situation got serious.  On the 
other hand, they might be handy if any researching needed to 
be done.

And that left her to consider the slayer.  Buffy.  You 
couldn't spend more than a day around Angel Investigations 
without hearing something about the young slayer.  And of 
course her past with Angel.  Fred wasn't blind to the fact 
that the two of them had disappeared together almost 
immediately.  She wasn't jealous, she insisted to herself.  
Really, she wasn't.  She just wished she knew what it had 
been that they had talked about.

Fred sighed softly, finally accepting that the time to dawdle 
was past.  She had spent the last half hour organizing her 
thoughts and considering the situation, but sooner or later 
she would have to get up and see the others.  There was 
simply no way to avoid it.  So, marshalling her energy, she 
stretched her lithe body taut, before getting up and marching 
to the bathroom.  Might as well look her best, she thought.  
The little boost of confidence it would give her would be 
nice.



Giles looked around the room he currently occupied.  The 
decorators had decided to go with a musical theme.  
Instruments from every country and just about every time 
period graced the walls, along with sheet music that doubled 
in some places as wallpaper.  It was a truly unique idea, and 
something about it had appealed to that bit of 'Ripper' that 
still remained in the watcher.

Plus, and this was the deciding factor, you could not hear 
Xander and Anya in this room.  In fact, the watcher realized 
rather thoughtfully, you really couldn't hear much of 
anything that went on outside.  The large house must have 
been built with very high quality standards, as all the walls 
seemed to be quite thick.

Thoughts of their purpose here brought him up short.  Why 
exactly were they here, he wondered.  The Watcher's Council 
had insisted it was a peace offering, a chance to mend fences 
with the slayer and her mentor.  However, the recent arrival 
of Angel and his young employee made him feel deeply 
troubled.  Something was afoot, but whether it was evil or 
not he could not guess.

A quick glance at the clock next to his bed told him that it 
was just passing three in the afternoon.  Such a lazy, 
decadent day, yet he had definitely needed the extra sleep.  
Now, however, it was time to meet the day and have some 
breakfast.  Make that lunch, he thought guiltily.  Well, some 
tea, at any rate.


Willow bounded down the steps enthusiastically.  A good 
night's sleep, mixed with a nice warm shower this morning, 
had her spirits flying high.  They were on vacation.  An 
honest-to-god vacation.  She tried to remember the last time 
she'd been on one of those. Sure, her parents took them all 
the time, but Willow hadn't been on one since she'd been 
twelve.  

The memory of it broke the surface of her consciousness, and 
she thought about the time her parents had taken her to 
Disneyworld in Florida.  They had left her with strangers 
while they spent their time lecturing on a cruise ship.  
Well, par for the course, she thought with a sigh.

Determined not to let depression grab hold of her, the petite 
redhead quickened her steps.  By the time she reached the 
bottom of the stairway and turned to enter the living room, 
she was practically flying.  In her preoccupation she failed 
to notice the other occupant of the room, and before she 
could stop her hurtling body, she had smacked head-on into 
Spike.  They both fell to the floor in a tangle of arms and 
legs, the vampire underneath Willow.

"Cor, witch, what's the rush?"  He didn't sound particularly 
angry, she noted, just curious. "Not that I'm complaining, 
mind you.  I kinda like the view," he added, looking down her 
shirt and eyeing her breasts enthusiastically.

Willow looked down at the blond and noted his expression and 
where his eyes were currently looking, and felt her skin burn 
with embarrassment.  She tried to disentangle herself and 
spring to her feet, but before she could, Xander and Anya 
came walking into the room, hands entwined, and a satisfied 
smile on both their faces.

"Wow Willow, never seen this side of you before," Xander 
teased her.  "Must be all this fresh country air, just turns 
the chicks on like crazy," he added shooting a knowing look 
at Anya.  "You should have seen what Anya wanted to do last 
ni..."

Before he could finish his sentence, both Willow and Spike 
jumped to their feet and ran screaming from the room.  They 
raced desperately for the kitchen and away from the slightly 
surprised couple.

As they sat down across from each other at the table, Spike 
gave his co-conspirator a wink and whispered, "I think made 
it, luv."  

Their eyes met briefly before they both burst out into 
laughter.

Willow got up and started to dig through the pantry, looking 
for something that would make a suitable snack before dinner, 
which was only a couple of hours away.  She turned and smiled 
back at her companion, her earlier embarrassment forgotten.  
"I love Xander to death, he's my dearest friend, but if I 
have to hear one more sentence about their sex life, I swear, 
I'm going to lose it!" she declared vehemently.  Plus, she 
added silently, it doesn't help matters that I'm not getting 
any regular smoochies.  She knew that Xander wasn't purposely 
flaunting his happiness, but sometimes it did rather seem 
like it.  

"Maybe you just need a little someone to take your mind off 
of it," Spike said knowingly, standing and coming to join the 
redhead at the counter, watching as she made herself a bowl 
of cereal.  She looked up at his approach, wondering exactly 
what he meant by his comment.  Before she could ask him, the 
kitchen door opened and Buffy, Giles, Angel and Fred joined 
them, already deep in discussion.

"But we can't just sit here like, well, sitting ducks," 
complained Buffy.  "We should be out doing... *something*."

"Well what do you suggest we do, Buffy?" Giles asked, his 
frustration evident as he sat down and began to polish his 
glasses.  "There isn't a whole lot to be done until whoever 
it is that sent us here decides to let us go."

The others sat down at the long wooden table, Willow and 
Spike joining them, each of them trying to think of something 
that they could do.  Buffy was unused to a problem that 
action couldn't solve.  Her usual modus operandi was to fight 
the enemy, or barring that, research it to death.  The 
problem now was that they didn't have a discernable enemy, 
and it was making the slayer feel useless and rather cranky.

"What I wanna know is who's responsible for this," Spike 
growled, his interrupted conversation with Willow forgotten 
as he got back to the subject of their 'vacation.'  He really 
didn't have a problem with being here, especially with the 
delectable redhead sitting so closely next to him, but he 
*hated* being toyed with.  It showed a certain lack of 
respect, he thought irritably.

"Okay, there's a good starting place," Angel agreed.  
"Personally, I think this stunt just reeks of the Council."

"Yes," Giles agreed.  "And I know for a fact that they own 
this island.  So they own the island, they have the 
resources, and the knowledge to set this up.  The only 
question is why."

Fred looked nervously at Angel, tapping him on the shoulder.  
He leaned down to listen to her softly whispered words.  "I 
feel like such an idiot," she told him quietly, "but I don't 
understand.  Why would the Council do this? Doesn't Buffy 
work for them?"

Angel realized that unlike the rest of them, Fred had never 
dealt with the Watcher's Council or heard about the rift 
between the Council and their Slayer.  "Usually the Slayer 
does work for the Council, but some time back Buffy quit 
working for them.  Things have been tense between them ever 
since."

Fred nodded gratefully.  "Thanks, Angel."

"So why don't you just call them?" she asked.  "I mean, there 
are phones here, right?  I saw one downstairs earlier."

Giles stood and began to pace the small room, his uneasiness 
quite apparent.  "Yes, we did try that earlier, I'm afraid, 
but the phone seems to be disconnected.  Whether on purpose 
or by accident, I couldn't really say.  But all the same, it 
does seem suspicious."

"And none of the rest of you thought to bring a cell phone?" 
Spike asked sarcastically.  "Bunch of bloody wankers, why on 
earth not?"

Buffy looked across the table at the blond and, judging from 
her expression, tried to think of some way to entice him out 
into the sunlight.  "Well where is *your* cell phone, 
blondie?" she asked nastily.  

"Vampires don't use cell phones, you stupid twat," he shot 
back angrily, shooting a look at Angel and daring the dark 
vampire to contradict him. 

"Well you're welcome to use mine," Fred offered cheerfully, 
bringing it out of her pocket and setting it in the middle of 
the table.  She shrunk back slightly as five sets of 
surprised eyes trained themselves on her face.



There was a moment of shocked silence, and then everyone 
started talking at once.

"You mean you..."

"Fred?"

"Give it here..."

"Well at least one of you has a brain," Spike grumbled, 
giving the slightly alarmed brunette an approving look.  

Angel was the first one to grab for the phone, and within 
seconds he was dialing the number for the Hyperion, hoping 
that one of his employees could send some help their way by 
nightfall.  

"Why isn't this working," he growled in frustration when his 
call wouldn't go through.  

Fred peeked her head over his shoulder and took a quick look 
at the face of the phone.  She groaned softly in dismay.  
"See that little symbol there?" she asked quietly, pointing 
at an icon and the words 'no signal' that flashed on the 
panel.  "That means that we're too far away to get a signal.  
Maybe if we go outside it would help?"

"Damn," he swore softly, then handed the phone back to her.  
"Here, why don't you try it outside?  I'm afraid it's still 
too light out for me.  If you *do* find a way to make a call, 
call Gunn immediately and get him to send some 
reinforcements.  Tell him that this is urgent, and not to 
waste any time."

"Sure Angel," she agreed, placing a reassuring hand on his 
shoulder and giving it a brief squeeze before leaving the 
room.  Giles and Buffy went with her, although they both 
suspected that they would have little more luck outside than 
they did inside.  They were just too far from the mainland, 
he suspected.  And that was just what whoever had set this up 
had intended.


Sure enough, the phone-wielding trio was back within minutes, 
frowns on all of their faces.  

"No luck at all," Fred said glumly, confirming Giles' earlier 
suspicions.

"Well, I think we all know what that means," Buffy said 
dejectedly, looking at the unhappy faces at the table.

Willow groaned.  "Research time, right?"

"C'mon, Wills, you know you want to," Buffy said, laughing a 
bit at Willow's gloomy face.  "You've been itching to take a 
crack at that library since the minute you got here."

"Yeah, but only for *fun* research.  Not for the 'if we don't 
find the answer to this problem we might be in trouble' kind 
of research," the little redhead complained.

One by one they unenthusiastically made their way to the 
library, pausing to call up to Anya and Xander to meet them 
there.

"But this was supposed to be a vacation," Spike whined.  "I 
was promised fun and time off and free blood.  Well, I did 
get the free blood I guess, but still, where's the fun?"

Angel shot him an amused glance, before getting up to follow 
the others.  "Come on, childe, let's get this over with. The 
sooner we find something, the sooner you can go back to your 
little video games," he snickered.  

Spike gave the dark vampire a menacing glare, but his heart 
really wasn't in it, and finally he got up to join the 
others.  "Last time I go *anywhere* with the bloody watcher," 
he muttered under his breath.



"Well I think we've made our way through every single book in 
this soddin' library, other than the general fiction, and we 
didn't find a damn thing," Spike groused.  "This was the last 
one, right, Watcher?"

"Yes, Spike, that was the last book," Giles replied in 
barely-polite tones.  The blond vampire had been complaining 
bitterly ever since they had started researching four hours 
ago, and although he had managed to hold his tongue 
admirably, the watcher was just about at the end of his rope.

Angel looked at the faces in the room.  Their attention was 
starting to lag a bit.  Willow and Buffy both looked sleepy, 
and Xander and Anya could barely keep their eyes open.  He 
suspected that Spike had actually stopped reading his book a 
half hour ago, and had spent the remaining time stealing 
glances at the redhead.  Even Fred, who was usually good for 
a long night of research, was looking a little weary.  

"How about we take a break and go outside for a bit.  The 
cold evening air ought to wake us up, and then some."  Plus, 
the vampire added quietly to himself, we could keep an eye 
out for anything unusual.  A little bit of impromptu 
patrolling was definitely a good idea.

"Yes, that is an excellent idea," Giles agreed, casting a 
grateful look at Angel.  Maybe with the children gone, he 
could actually concentrate on the research at hand.  Between 
Anya's giggling and Buffy popping her gum, the ex-librarian 
had been hard put to get any in-depth reading done.  His 
concentration had been rather lacking, that was for sure.

As the children eagerly left, Giles settled back comfortably 
onto the leather couch and took his glasses off for a second.  
Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a moment, he thought, he 
could get back to the books with a better frame of mind and 
better concentration.



As soon as they left the house the group quickly split up.  
Anya and Xander took off for a quiet romantic walk on their 
own, promising the others that they would be careful and 
would return before too long.  They headed down the path 
towards the dock, coming to a stop and sitting on a bench 
there. The two held hands and talking softly, the sound of 
the water the perfect backdrop to their conversation. 

The rest of the gang headed north, taking a well-worn path 
along the edge of the island.  The moon was bright and high 
overhead, and the tall trees that surrounded the house gave 
way to small bushes and plants. As the five figures walking 
along, Angel, Buffy and Fred quickly forged ahead, while 
Willow and Spike walked more slowly, the young woman taking 
more interest in their surroundings and the water down below.  

"It's so quiet here," she whispered to Spike.  "I mean, the 
noises you hear from the city, all those sounds that you take 
for granted, you don't hear them here."

"Yeah, downright spooky, if you ask me."

Willow looked at him briefly, and then started to giggle 
softly.

"Hell, what's so damn funny, witch?"

She slapped him lightly on the arm, and then said, "You're 
the big bad.  You've tried to kill us, like, a bazillion 
times.  And yet something as innocuous as the quiet here 
creeps you out.  Some big bad you are," she teased, giving 
him a smile to soften her words.

Spike looked over at the redhead next to him and flashed her 
a brief glimpse of ridges and fangs, before allowing his face 
to blend back to its usual human visage.  He leaned in close 
to her ear and threw a casual arm around her shoulder before 
whispering seductively, "Give me a minute or two, and I'll 
show you just how big and bad I can be."

"Tease," she called him, stopping briefly to look up at his 
smiling face, before skipping down the path to join the 
others.

Spike continued leisurely behind her, watching the sway of 
her hips as she moved ahead of him.  And she called *him* a 
tease, he thought ruefully, as he quickened his steps to 
catch up with the others.


"Oh, he looks so cute," Willow said with a giggle, leaning 
down to get a closer look at the sleeping watcher.

"Cute?" Xander and Buffy exclaimed in unison.  They had 
returned to the mansion just in time to catch Giles asleep on 
the job, so to speak.  In their absence he had stretched out 
onto the couch, and now appeared to be dead to the world.

"Shush," Anya insisted, "If we wake him up, he'll make us 
work again, right?" she asked, looking at the others for 
confirmation.

"My girl here's got a good point," agreed Xander, pulling 
Anya quickly out of the room so that the two could enjoy some 
more one-on-one time.

The others quickly followed them, eager to avoid waking the 
most serious member of their group.  They headed towards the 
living room, each of them discussing what they should do for 
the evening.

"Poker," Angel insisted.

"Movies," was Willow's contribution.

"Reading?" Fred asked somewhat hesitantly.

"Drinking," Spike added to the ever-growing list of 
suggestions.

"Okay, how about a drinking game," Buffy asked, trying to put 
together at least a couple of suggestions.  "With a movie on 
in the background," she added, seeing Willow's slightly 
disappointed look.

"I guess I could read any old time," Fred agreed softly.  
"I've never played poker before, but it's just a game of 
mathematical certainties, right?" she asked.

"Yup, that's exactly what it is," Spike agreed with a 
devilish grin.  He decided that he liked the little brunette.  
She seemed quiet and scared, but he sensed that there was a 
backbone hidden underneath her soft demeanor and quiet 
lilting voice.  Plus, she was able to put up with his broody 
bastard of a sire, so she must have unseen reserves of 
patience.

"Okay, everyone sit down," Angel commanded, grabbing several 
exotically colored bottles from the fully stocked bar behind 
him.  Green, yellow, white and blue liquids sparkled in the 
light.  The vampire then searched for and found several shot 
glasses, placing one in front of each seat.  "Here are the 
rules of the game.  We're playing poker, nothing's wild, no 
special rules, just plain simple poker.  Whoever gets the 
high hand doesn't have to drink.  Whoever doesn't win, well, 
they each take a shot of their liquor of choice."

"Hey, vampire constitution..." complained Fred.

Willow and Buffy shot her grateful looks.  They hadn't 
considered that point.  Vampires seemed to be notoriously 
good at holding their liquor, and that put the women at a 
distinct disadvantage.  

"All right, all right, we'll take double shots," Spike 
groused.  "But I'm sure it'll just be the poof here who'll be 
doing that, since I plan to win every hand," he added with a 
smirk.

"We'll see about that," Willow shot back, her competitive 
nature kicking in.  Angel smiled slightly as he looked at his 
childe and the little redhead.  She reminded him of a tiny 
terrier going up against a larger dog.  She knew the odds 
weren't in her favor, but that wasn't going to stop her from 
trying.

"And let the games begin," Fred intoned solemnly, before 
smiling and giggling breathily.



"I am drunk." Angel informed them all, a rather silly grin on 
his face.

"Drunk as a skunk," Spike agreed, smirking.

Willow giggled.  Soon her giggles became full-fledged 
laughter, and her head hit the card table with a thud.  
"Oww," she complained, rubbing her forehead with her hand.

Fred was giggling too.  "You," she said, pointing at Willow 
between giggles and gasps for breath, "You're so funny!"

Buffy smiled at them, feeling slightly superior.  I may not 
have won that many hands, but I managed to hold my alcohol 
better than they did, she thought smugly.  Little did she 
know that she had a tootsie roll wrapper stuck to the top of 
her forehead.  The slayer was so smashed that she couldn't 
feel or sense it there, and nobody else was about to tell 
her.  They were having too much fun looking at it.

"It's almost," Angel stopped briefly to look at his watch.  
Damned hands, why couldn't they stay in one place, he 
wondered.  Always moving, the blasted things were.  "It's 
almost 4am," he began again.  "Time for most good little 
girls to be in bed," he added, giggling at his own wittiness.  
"May I escort you ladies up to your rooms?" he asked, getting 
somewhat unsteadily to his feet.  The dark vampire linked 
arms with Fred and Buffy, and the three of them stumbled 
their way up to their rooms.

"M'lady," Spike drawled, giving the remaining woman the same 
treatment.

"Oh, Spike," Willow giggled, grabbing his arm and then 
lurching slightly against him as she tried to get herself 
upright.  "Ummm.... so tired," she sighed, resting her head 
briefly against his shoulder.

"C'mon, you card shark you," he mumbled sleepily, "Let's get 
you to bed."


The previous night's revelry caused the young adults to sleep 
in even later than they had the previous morning, make that 
the previous *afternoon*.  By the time the first of them made 
her way down the stairs, it was shortly after 3pm.  Keeping a 
vampire's hours was becoming a habit, Willow thought, but not 
an unpleasant one.

As she made her way down the stairs, Willow spied Giles, 
still sprawled out on the couch in the library, as he had 
been the previous evening.  That's odd, she thought.  He 
really ought to be awake by now.

Instead of heading for the kitchen, she decided to stop in 
the library to make sure that the ex-librarian was all right.  
She watched his chest as she entered the room, waiting for 
the comforting rise and fall that would indicate steady 
breathing.  She became more and more alarmed as she saw no 
evidence that Giles was breathing at all.  As she quickly 
reached his side, panic began to fill her, fueled by how 
still and pale he was.  Willow placed her fingers on his 
neck, trying desperately to find a pulse.  Finding nothing at 
all, put a hand over his heart, and then grabbed his wrist, 
searching frantically for a heartbeat or a pulse; anything to 
let her know that Giles was alive.

Then she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and Angel's 
voice was suddenly very close to her.  "Willow?" he asked.  
As she turned to look at him, he took in her devastated face.  
Tears ran from her eyes, trickling down her cheeks and losing 
themselves as they hit her the fabric of her cotton blouse.  
Her eyes were huge and heartrending, begging him to tell her 
that what she suspected wasn't true.

"He's dead, Angel," she said, her voice breaking.  "Giles is 
dead."



Spike walked down the stairs quickly, his senses registering 
the scent of his redhead's salty tears.  Listening carefully, 
he could hear Angel whisper soothingly to her, but he could 
not tell what his sire was saying.

As he entered the library, he could see the older man holding 
Willow, his arms around her, comforting her and attempting to 
dry her tears.  "What the bloody hell did you do to her?" he 
asked angrily, tugging the young woman roughly from Angel's 
arms and looking into her huge tear-filled eyes.

"Giles," she whispered brokenly, her eyes traveling once 
again to the still body on the couch.  "He...he's..." but 
that was all she could manage before she was sobbing again, 
throwing herself into Spike's arms.  He instinctively closed 
them around her thin frame, holding her tightly and letting 
her pour out all of her grief.

"When I came down here, she was looking for a pulse," Angel 
explained.  "The body was cold, though," he added softly.  
Obviously Giles had died at some point during the late night 
or early morning hours.

"Any idea...?" Spike whispered.  

"No, I didn't see any signs of anything," Angel said quietly, 
answering his childe's unasked question.

Spike pulled away from Willow for a moment, looking down into 
her eyes again.  "C'mon, luv, let's get you out of here.  You 
don't need to see this," he told her, walking her into the 
living room and setting her down on one of the couches.  He 
disappeared for a moment before returning with a glass of the 
green liqueur that she had seemed so fond of the previous 
evening.

"Here ya go, just have a sip of this," he prompted gently, 
putting the glass to her lips and tipping it slightly.  

She protested, trying to move her head away from the liquid.  
"Don't want it," she said, her voice quiet and child-like.

"I know, Willow.  But you need it.  You're in shock.  If you 
don't drink some of this, well, something will happen.  I'm 
not quite sure what, but whenever something awful happens in 
the movies, they give the girl a drink of alcohol and it 
fixes her right up.  So you've got to drink it, okay?"

She gave him an odd look but finally drank down some of the 
emerald liquid.  Willow watched with unseeing eyes as Spike 
sat down next to her and put a consoling arm around her.  She 
snuggled into the comforting gesture, trying not to think of 
what was going on in the room down the hall.

Just a few minutes later she heard Buffy and Xander come down 
the stairs, their voices exuberant and carefree.  Then she 
heard Angel murmur to them quietly, and the next thing she 
knew, she heard Buffy's sobs and her footsteps as she raced 
back up the stairway to her room and then slammed her door 
behind her.  

Willow knew that she should go to her friends and make sure 
that they were all right, but for some reason all she could 
do was huddle closer to the vampire next to her and think 
about all the things that she'd never have a chance to say to 
Giles.

The older man had been a father to her.  Not 'just like a 
father' but an actual father.  Her own father was a stranger 
who had little or no time for her.  Giles had quietly but 
surely taken that place in her life.  He had cheered her up 
when she was down; had encouraged her when she wanted to 
learn more; and he had praised and depended upon her growing 
abilities in the magicks.  He had guided her on the path to 
adulthood, and had never asked for anything in return.  And 
now he was gone, she thought sadly, tears pooling again in 
her emerald eyes.

"Willow," she heard Angel's soft voice calling out to her as 
he entered the room, his face solemn.  "I called a meeting.  
Everyone will be here in a minute.  I just wanted to give you 
some warning."

Willow nodded her thanks to the dark-haired vampire and sat 
up, pulling away from Spike.  She used her hands to brush the 
tears away from her eyes, and when Spike put a comforting arm 
around her shoulder again, she gave him a tentative smile and 
a quickly whispered "thanks."

One by one they entered the room.  Anya and Xander held hands 
tightly, their faces somber.  Xander looked as if he had aged 
years in the space of a couple of hours.  His face was drawn 
into a tragic mask and his eyes looked like the eyes of 
someone who has seen more than they wanted to see, knew more 
than they wanted to know.

Next came Angel, his face sad and worried.  He and Giles had 
never been close, but he had respected the watcher for his 
intelligence and his devotion to his young charges.  Seeing 
those young adults now, trying to act like they were all 
right when they so obviously weren't, made Angel feel that 
respect even more strongly.  Giles had instilled that ability 
in them: the ability to go on and get the job done, even when 
everything else in their lives was falling apart.

Behind Angel came Buffy and Fred.  They were an odd couple, 
to be sure.  Buffy shuffled along slowly, her face thin and 
haggard.  The brunette seemed to be coaxing her along, 
whispering things in her ear that caused the blonde to start 
moving again after she had stopped momentarily.  Her eyes 
took in the faces of her friends, but it was almost as if 
there was nobody there behind those eyes.  They were as empty 
as the rest of her face, devoid of any emotion or animation.

"Buffy," Willow exclaimed softly, and blonde turned to face 
her.  The redhead quickly got up and ran to hug her friend, 
grasping her hands and drawing her down to sit with her on 
the couch.

All heads turned towards Angel as he cleared his throat 
softly. "As you all know, Giles is...no longer with us," he 
said carefully, not sure if the others were up to hearing the 
"D" word just yet.  The looks that greeted him reinforced 
that impression, especially the looks on the faces of Willow 
and Buffy.  They had both cared deeply for the former 
librarian.

"So far," he continued, "We haven't found any cause of death.  
His passing may have been completely natural.  But 
considering the rather odd circumstances, I think we have to 
concede that there may have been something more involved."

Buffy nodded, acknowledging that Angel might just have a 
point.  The others sat silently still, contemplating this 
latest information. 

"Spike and I will take care of the body," he continued.  
Spike opened his mouth to protest, more out of habit than 
anything, but a warning look from his sire made him close it 
again.  The last thing Willow and the others needed was to 
have to help with disposing of the body.

"Afterwards we can hold a small service, if you like," the 
dark vampire added, looking to Buffy for acknowledgement.  
She nodded slightly.

"I don't know what Giles' religious beliefs were," the slayer 
admitted, "But I'm sure that everyone would probably like to 
say a few words.  I know I would," she added sadly.

Angel put a hand on Buffy's shoulder and squeezed it 
comfortingly.  He wished he could do more for his former 
love, but she had her friends, and they would grieve together 
in their own way, he knew.  

"The next thing I think we should do is make a thorough 
search of the house and the island.  It shouldn't take long, 
but we need to be sure that there is nobody hiding here that 
might have done this.  Someone who might plan on further 
actions."

Spike saw the wisdom in Angel's plan; he had already been 
thinking along the same lines.  Sure, Giles' death might have 
been a complete coincidence, but then again, maybe it wasn't.  
If it wasn't, they had to make sure that this place was safe 
for the rest of them, at least until they could figure out 
some way to get to safety.

"You okay here luv?" Spike asked Willow, turning his head to 
look down into her eyes.  She nodded, her face sad and 
scared.  He must not have looked too convinced, because she 
hesitated a moment, and then gave him a shy half-smile, and 
whispered softly, "I'll be okay.  Thanks."

He gave her one final look, then got up and left with Angel, 
their footsteps echoing as they walked down the hall to the 
library.  Soon the others heard the front door of the house 
close loudly behind them as the two vampires trudged out into 
the early evening air.

"So what do you *really* think," Spike asked as they walked, 
looking for a suitable final resting place.  He was curious 
to find out if the elder vampire had thoughts that ran along 
the same lines that his did. 

The older man frowned uneasily.  Bloody poof, Spike thought 
in annoyance.  Always had to think every last thought to 
death.  The man could never just say what was on his mind.  
"Sometime today, if you don't mind," he added under his 
breath.

Angel shot his childe a look of pure irritation.  "Fine, you 
want to know what I think?  Well here it is.  Giles was not a 
young man by any means, but he certainly wasn't old enough to 
die.  I think there might have been something else going on 
here."

"Well duh," Spike said sarcastically.  "The watcher had a 
good couple of decades left in him, by my count.  The 
question is, what happened, and who was behind it?  I mean, 
someone lured us out here, and now one of us is dead.  If 
someone orchestrated all this, will they stop there, or will 
they try again?  That's what I want to know."




Two hours later they all assembled around the hastily made 
gravesite, staring down at Giles' lifeless body.

"He looks so peaceful," Anya said, wonder and surprise 
showing in her voice.  "Almost like he just fell asleep.  
Maybe after some really good sex."

The others looked at her, some with shock, some with 
amusement.  Xander thought about trying to explain to her why 
that was probably the most inappropriate comment she could 
possibly have made, but decided that there really wasn't any 
point in doing so.  She was who she was, and he loved her.  
That was what he should concentrate on now, he thought.

"So, does anyone want to say anything?" Angel asked 
uncertainly.  He'd known hundreds of people who had died, but 
had never really gotten the hang of the whole 'funeral' 
thing.  He had always felt that the life of the one now dead 
should be celebrated with remembrances and stories and songs.  
This whole somber showing always made him uneasy and 
uncertain.

"I'll go first," Anya said, as if it were some kind of a 
prize she was claiming.  The others let her go, holding their 
breath.  They were slightly uneasy about what Anya might 
think was an appropriate speech for a memorial service, but 
she surprised them all with her simple yet elegant words. The 
young ex-demon walked up to Giles' body and looked down at 
his peaceful face.  "Giles, you were one of my favorite 
humans, and I'm going to miss you very very much."  She 
reached out to gently brush her hand against his forehead, a 
stray tear dropping to splatter on his cheek.  Stepping back 
to stand next to Xander, she grabbed his hand again and 
rested her head gently on his shoulder.

Fred went next, walking quickly to stand beside the grave and 
look down.  "You seemed like a really smart, wonderful man.  
I wish I had had the chance to get to know you better," she 
said sadly, walking back to stand next to Angel, placing a 
comforting hand on his arm.  He turned to look at her and 
gave the young woman a soft smile, briefly pressing his lips 
to her forehead in a chaste kiss.  She smiled back at him, 
her eyes surprised but not unhappy.

"I guess I'll go next," Xander said quietly.  He walked 
slowly to the grave and looked down at his mentor and friend.  
"I'm sorry I called you G-man," he started, apropos of 
nothing.  "But I always meant it as a compliment.  A sign of 
respect.  I hope you knew that."

He stopped for a moment, trying to get his emotions under 
control again.  "You were like a father to me, you know?  
Only you never belittled me or made me think less of myself, 
like my 'real' father did.  That meant a lot to me.  But you 
were more than just a parent; you were a friend.  And...that 
meant everything to me.  More than I can ever tell you.  And 
now you'll never know..." The young boy stopped then, unable 
to finish.  Anya came up to stand beside him, and while the 
others watched on, he hid his face in her shoulder and cried.  

Anya turned the two of them; they walked back to the house 
alone, leaving the others to continue on in their absence.

"Guess it's my turn," Spike commented, unusually subdued.  
"The watcher and I had our fights.  Hell, he kept me tied up 
in his tub for the better part of a year.  But I respected 
him, and what he did and why he did it.  He was a good man."

Angel nodded in agreement, then walked up to the shallow 
grave to look down on the man within.  "He was a good man.  
And a champion for good, whether he had a title or not.  He 
will be missed."

Willow and Buffy walked up to Giles together, tears again 
streaming down their faces.  "We thought we'd do this 
together.  Maybe it would give us more strength, or so we 
hoped," the blonde began.

Willow took over where the slayer left off.  "Giles, you were 
our mentor, our father-figure, our friend, and our unwavering 
moral compass.  I don't know how we're going to do this 
without..." and that was as far as she got before the tears 
fell again and her throat tightened up, making further speech 
impossible.

Buffy looked at her friend, and put her arm around the 
redhead's shoulder.  "We love you, Giles, and we'll never 
forget you," she said simply.  With those final words, the 
two women collected Fred and walked back to the house, 
leaving the vampires to cover the body of Rupert Giles with 
dirt, closing him into his final resting place.



It was a downhearted and somber gathering at lunch the next 
morning.  After their return from the impromptu service for 
Giles, each of the mourners had gone their own way, most of 
them spending time privately thinking about Giles, and 
pondering the meaning of life and other such weighty 
subjects.  

Now it was late morning, and the seven remaining habitants of 
Cemetery Island sat around the kitchen table, eschewing the 
formality of the beautiful dining room for the comfort and 
convenience of the banged-up kitchen table.  

"Are you really all right, Fred," Angel asked the brunette 
sitting quietly next to him, noting the far away look on her 
face.  Out of all of them, she had known Giles the least, but 
she seemed to be affected by his death just the same.

"I think so, Angel.  It's just so weird, you know?" she asked 
uncertainly.  "I mean, one minute he's there, and we're 
talking, and I'm getting to know him and I think he was a 
really nice man, and now he's gone and I'll never find out 
whether he likes music or what he thought of the Goarnian 
prophecies, or...death is just so final.  It's not like what 
you see on TV or in a movie."

"What do you mean?" Angel asked, bringing his head closer so 
that he didn't have to strain to hear her soft voice.

"Well on TV someone dies, and everyone mourns for a couple of 
hours, but then it's over, and things go back to some 
semblance of normality.  Only I can't do that, because every 
time I try to think normal thoughts, I think about him and 
how normal he seemed and then I think of all the things I'll 
never be able to talk to him about."  Her voice was still 
soft and lilting, but now a string of sorrow had been added 
to the symphony and the sound made Angel wish that he could 
comfort her properly.  He wanted to hold her and kiss her and 
promise her that nothing bad would ever happen to her again.  
Instead, he simply took her hand and held it lightly, hoping 
that he could convey to her without words the comfort he 
wanted to give to her.

"I'm sorry, Fred.  This should have been a business trip, 
sprinkled with a little sightseeing, and instead here we are 
stuck in the middle of...well, whatever this is that we're in 
the middle of."  The dark vampire ran his hand through his 
hair anxiously, wishing that he could do something to ease 
Fred's troubled thoughts.

Their quiet moment came to a quick finish however when 
Xander, who had been whispering to Anya, stood up and 
addressed the others.

"I know that we all feel like...well, like shit.  But we need 
to face some facts.  Giles' death might not have been an 
accident or from natural causes.  I think we should search 
this house and this island and make sure there's nobody 
hiding."

The young man was surprised to see both Spike and Angel 
nodding their heads in agreement.  "Xander's right," Spike 
agreed.  The fact that he used the young man's real name 
showed just how serious he was.  "I guess Peaches and I 
should take the house, seeing as it's still light out.  Maybe 
the rest of you lot should break into two groups and check 
out the rest of the island.  We can meet back here when we're 
done and talk about what we've found.  Any objections?"

"Willow, Fred, you both can come with me and check out the 
north part of the island," Buffy said, sounding a little more 
like the take-charge slayer of a couple of days ago.  
"Xander, you and Anya take the south part of the island, 
including the dock and the area around the house.  That sound 
good?"  

Her eyes roamed the table looking for dissenting opinions and 
found none.  They were all as eager as she was to get this 
taken care of.  The sooner they made sure that the island was 
empty of unwanted guests, the sooner they could accept the 
fact that Giles' death had been a horrible, but entirely 
natural, event.



"What's wrong, hun?" Xander asked Anya as they headed down 
towards the dock.

"I'm just thinking," Anya told him, her eyes alert and 
watchful.  The two young lovers were just finishing their 
search, having found nothing at all to support the theory 
that someone was hiding on the island.  

Xander stopped and sat down on the bench they had occupied 
the other night, pulling Anya down to sit next to him.  "I'll 
take care of you, you know.  You don't have to worry."

She nodded, looking out over the water with a wistful 
expression.  So much has changed in the last 24 hours, she 
thought.  And not for the better.

"What if there's nobody else on the island except us?" she 
asked idly.  "Do we stay here until we die?  Or will help 
come?"

He ran a comforting hand through her hair, resting it gently 
on her shoulder as he pulled her around to face him.  
"Someone will come for us, Anya.  One of Angel's people, 
probably.  They'll be worried that they haven't heard from 
him, and they'll come up here to check it out."

Anya frowned.  "What if Giles' death wasn't an accident?" she 
asked, causes and effects and alternate scenarios chasing 
each other through her mind.

"If Giles' death was caused by someone or something, we'll 
find them.  Someone will come across them, and we'll make 
them tell us why they're doing this to us."

Anya shifted uneasily on the bench, not wanting to voice her 
fears, but still wanting Xander to calm her and make those 
fears disappear.  "What if nobody's on the island, but Giles' 
death wasn't natural," she finally whispered, sharing her 
worst fears with her love.

Xander looked at her in surprise.  Not because of what she 
had said, but because he had been thinking about the same 
thing.  He gave Anya a searching look, wondering what else 
was going on behind that pretty face.

"I'm not stupid, you know," she whispered.  "I know that 
people think all I care about is the shop and having orgasms.  
And maybe that's what I want them to think.  But there's a 
lot more going on with me than just that."

Xander pulled her to him, planting his lips on hers for a 
soft kiss.  "You constantly surprise me, Anya.  And I mean 
that only in the nicest way."

She leaned against him, enjoying the comfort he gave her 
freely.  "I love you Xander.  And I'm afraid.  Something is 
very wrong here.  I can feel it.  And I don't think that 
Giles' death was an accident.  And if it wasn't, and we don't 
find someone else on the island, then that means..."

"Then that means that one of us killed him," Xander whispered 
softly.

Anya nodded sadly in agreement, her eyes as dark and 
fathomless as the ocean before them.

 


Angel and Spike worked efficiently, checking room after room 
of the huge house in an organized manner.  Angel even went as 
far as to bring a tape measure with him, measuring here and 
there to make sure that there were no hidden rooms or 
cubbyholes large enough to hold a person.  They had 
discovered two such spaces, but both were empty and showed no 
sign of any recent use.

The house was huge, even bigger than they had realized.  
There was a large unfinished basement, empty and cavernous.  
It had taken them about two minutes to do a thorough search, 
but forever to make the measurements work.  Finally, once 
Angel was assured that the room was nothing more than what it 
seemed, they moved on.

There was nothing more to see on the ground floor, except 
that that was where they found one of the hidden spaces.  It 
was hidden in the library, and was barely large enough to 
hide a person.  Still, it made the vampires uneasy.

The second floor took a little longer.  They made their way 
through room after room, checking every inch of space.  Spike 
stopped to do a little bit of snooping when he got to 
Willow's room.  He opened her closet and stopped for a moment 
to sniff her clothes, enjoying the scent that was unique to 
the young woman.  "Just making sure there isn't anyone hiding 
in here," he assured his sire, who merely smirked, knowing 
full well what his childe was up to.  He left the room, 
giving Spike the chance to be alone with...her clothes.

Boy would Willow be mad if she found out, Angel thought 
smugly, his mind devising ways and scenarios in which he 
could let the vital information slip.  Then he sighed, 
thinking about what they might be up against, and decided 
he'd better get back to work.  He steeled himself slightly 
before opening the door of the room that had belonged to 
Giles.

He surveyed the interior silently. It was simple and 
uncluttered, reminding him of the watcher himself.  The walls 
were decorated with sheet music and musical instruments, 
giving the room an almost festive look, which was somewhat at 
odds with the way he was feeling at the moment.  

Angel heard a noise in the hallway and turned quickly, ready 
for battle, but it was only Spike.  Together they turned back 
and surveyed the room.  

"He shouldn't have died that way," Angel murmured sadly.  "He 
should have died in battle, beside his slayer."

Spike nodded in agreement.  "That's the way he would have 
wanted it.  Her too, for that matter.  This just seems 
so...pointless, I suppose.  Hell, any number of times I 
wanted him to die, but I always figured I'd be the one 
killing him.  This way, takes all the fun out of it."

Angel smiled wistfully, his thoughts reaching back to the 
past.  "I remember when I first met them all.  Sometimes, in 
my dreams, when the soul was resting, I suppose, I'd have 
such dreams."

"Yeah, I've had those dreams.  Where you're standing in the 
middle of a room, surrounded by their corpses, blood running 
freely.  Your mate standing at your side.  For me it's always 
the redhead.  I suppose for you it was the slayer."

"Sometimes," Angel agreed quietly, his mind still stuck in 
the past.  "Sometimes it was someone else," he added, 
thinking of the innocent young redhead who still possessed 
such fire in her eyes.

Spike growled softly, sensing the direction his sire's 
thoughts had taken.  Angel looked at his childe and chuckled 
gently when he saw the warning expression in the blond's 
eyes. "Don't worry, Spike, my interests have changed.  Willow 
is yours.  If you have the horns to do anything about it," he 
added with a smirk.

The blond shot the older man a dark look.  "I've got the 
horns, mate.  Don't ever think otherwise.  But I'm not some 
bastard like Angelus.  I'm going to do this right.  I'll be 
the best friend she's ever had, and then when the time is 
right, I'll make my move."  Spike noted Angel's flinch at the 
name of his hated alter ego and smiled in satisfaction.  He 
still knew exactly which buttons to push to get a reaction 
from the poof.  Some things never changed.

"Speaking of horns," Spike added, his voice taking on a 
teasing tone, "What about you and the brunette?  You ever 
gonna do anything about her?  She's a right tasty morsel, she 
is, all tall and willowy and soft-spoken.  Wouldn't mind a 
try at her myself."  He smiled as he watched the 
thunderclouds form on Angel's face, and waited for the 
inevitable eruption.

Instead of the outburst he expected, the older man just 
grinned.  "You can't get me that easily, boy.  Besides, 
Willow would never go for that and you know it.  And if you 
hurt her, you're not only going to have to deal with the 
Slayer and the moron, you'll have to deal with ME.  And you 
*know* what kind of tortures I'd love to subject your lily-
white skin to, don't you?  Just give me an excuse."  He 
watched as his childe's expression changed from cocky to 
sullen, feeling satisfaction that he'd gotten his point 
across.

"And as for my interest in Fred, well, you know better than 
anyone, except possibly Buffy, why it can never go beyond 
what it is now.   None of us want a reappearance of Angelus, 
and that's just what it would lead to if Fred and I ever got 
too close.  So I keep my distance and try my best to be her 
friend.  That's all I can do, really."

Spike felt a sudden feeling of compassion and pity for his 
sire.  He was destined to live forever, yet never able to be 
truly happy.  Life became nothing but a cruel joke with 
little to look forward to.  I still hate the poof, he 
reminded himself, but he decided it couldn't hurt to feel a 
little pity for the bloke.

"C'mon, mate.  Sooner we get this job finished, sooner we can 
relax and have a drink," Spike said, heading down the hall to 
take a look at the next room.



Buffy, Willow and Fred were the last ones to return to the 
house.  It was early evening, and the island was covered in 
darkness once again.  

"If there's anyone else on this island, then they're sure as 
hell not hiding outside anywhere," Buffy told them, nods of 
agreement coming from Willow and Fred.  

"We looked everywhere," Fred added softly, "But there really 
isn't anywhere to hide.  There are some trees around the 
house, but once you get past that it's pretty much open land 
right up to the cliffs.  And there are cliffs on every side 
that go straight down to the water.  The only part wide 
enough to even walk on is down by the dock."

"And we checked that out completely," Xander told them.  He 
was stretched out on the floor, Anya lying next to him, 
watching as he practiced with the video game.  He'd have a 
few tricks up his sleeve the next time Spike tried to take 
him on, he thought with satisfaction.

"So I guess that is that," Anya said, uncertainty coloring 
her voice.  "Giles died because of something completely 
natural.  It's really awful, but it's what you get for being 
a human."

Xander gave the ex-demon another of his 'not now, honey' 
looks, and Anya quieted, her eyes looking blankly at the TV 
set.  She always managed to stick her foot in it, she knew, 
and she just never understood how.  Sometimes she really 
hated being a human and having to live by human society's 
rules and mores.

"What do you guys want to do now?" Buffy asked. She wandered 
over to sit down on one of the loveseats, stretching out and 
crossing her long legs before kicking of her shoes.  "I don't 
suppose our captors thought to provide us with any board 
games or cards or anything, to wile away the long hours 
before they decide to tell us what the hell they want with 
us?" she added bitterly.

Everyone was silent for a moment, trying to think of 
something that would occupy their evening hours.

"I've got it!" Willow exclaimed excitedly.  "This game, I 
mean.  We used to play this game at parties."

"What game is that, Will?" Xander asked.

"You know, the one that I can never remember the name of."

"Oh, that one, I've played it a hundred times," Xander 
quipped, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion.

"Oh hush, you!" she smiled indulgently at him.  "It's the one 
where everyone writes down the name of someone in history 
that they admire, and then we put all the names in a hat.  
Or, I suppose if we don't have a hat, maybe a bowl or 
something would work.  Anyway, everyone picks out a name and 
tapes it to their back, and then they have to go around 
asking everyone else questions about the person they picked, 
until they guess who it is."

"Oh, that's easy," Anya said excitedly, catching on to the 
idea of the game.  "And it's educational too, so it's 
something Giles would have approved of," she finished with a 
small smile.

Buffy grinned at Anya and nodded in agreement.  "Definitely 
something he would have been happy about."

Willow ran to the kitchen to grab paper, pencils and a bowl, 
and before long they were playing.  Anya was rather 
disappointed when she found out that she was only allowed to 
ask 'yes or no' questions, but other than that, everyone 
seemed to settle down and get into the spirit of the game.

Spike, who just happened to pick the name that Willow had 
written out, guessed the correct answer almost immediately.  
"Giles," he told her, a melancholy expression on his face.

Willow gasped in surprise.  "How did you know?"

"Whom else would you be thinking about right now?" he 
answered, knowing that the former watcher had occupied most 
of her thoughts during the last several hours.

"Okay, my turn to ask questions," she said, making an effort 
to shake off her sadness, at least for now.  "So, who did I 
kill?" she asked Spike with a grin, when he informed her that 
she had his name of choice taped to her back. 

"What?!?  I'm wounded," he exclaimed, grinning, looking not 
in the least bit offended or hurt by her question.  When 
Willow merely gave him a pointed look, he added, "Okay, maybe 
it's a reasonable question.  But it's not a 'yes or no' 
question, so you'll have to try again, luv."

"Okay, I'll rephrase it then," she told him, a twinkle in her 
eye.  "Did I kill more than 5 people?"

"Actually, no," he admitted, giving her an approving glance.

"More than two?"

"No."

"Oh, come on, whoever it is has to have killed at least a 
couple of people, right?"

"Right," he replied, his blank face giving her no clues.

"Hmmmm...he or she killed two people?"

Spike nodded, smiling slightly, as he watched the redhead 
lose herself in thought.  

"And it's a woman, right?" she asked, although by the tone of 
her voice she already knew the answer to the question.

"Yes," he answered, his voice teasing.

"Alive?"

"No."

"Undead?"

Spike threw back his head and gave a short bark of laughter; 
the sudden noise earned him surprised looks and annoyed 
glances from those nearby.  "I bet this is the first time 
that question's ever been asked during this game," he told 
her, a sardonic grin on his face.  

Willow thought about the absurdness of the question and 
agreed that he was probably right.  She grinned back at him 
then, her eyes sparkling in the soft light of the room.

"So let me think here...it's a woman, she's dead, she killed 
two people, right?"

"So far, so good," he agreed.

"Okay, gotta be Lizzie Borden," Willow said, flashing the 
vampire a quick, smug smile.  

"Wha...how the hell did you guess that?" the blond asked, 
shaking his head in amazement and admiration.

The young woman merely gave him an enigmatic smile.  "I know 
how your mind works, buster," she told him, as she reached 
around to grab the piece of paper taped to her back.  Sure 
enough, the name Lizzie Borden was written in Spike's neat 
handwriting, bringing a triumphant smile to Willow's face.

"C'mon, let's see how the others are doing," she urged, 
grabbing Spike's hand and pulling him towards Angel and Fred.

Spike glanced down at their clasped hands, enjoying the 
feeling of her warm skin against his. "So who'd the poof 
choose," he asked the young brunette.

"Oh, he chose George Washington," she told them, a shy smile 
on her lips.  

"I can not tell a lie," Angel joked.  His friends groaned at 
his choice of words.  "Sorry.  I'm awful at these things.  I 
can never come up with a good name when the pressure is on."  

"You're bloody awful at jokes too, apparently," Spike agreed, 
drawing a smile from both women and a growl from his sire.

"So let's see who Fred picked," Willow demanded, turning 
Angel around so that his back faced them.  "Hmmmm..." she 
said meditatively, as she saw the name Renˆ© Descartes.  She 
turned Angel back to face the rest of them, and then gave 
Fred a sad look. 

"You know he's never going to guess that one," Willow told 
the young woman.  "I mean, it's not like he's never heard of 
him or anything, but I just don't see it happening.

"It's a he?" Angel asked.

"Hell, you poof, what kind of questions have you been asking 
if you don't even know it's a guy yet?"

Fred giggled, her hand moving reflectively up to stifle the 
sound.  "He was being very methodical," she told them, the 
smile on her face getting bigger.  "First he went through all 
the different types of demons to make sure it wasn't one of 
those, then he asked if it was a vampire, and I think he was 
just about to ask if the person was a human."

"Angel, you've *got* to get out more," Willow told him, her 
laughter joining with Fred's.  

"Hey!  I've got a system!" the injured vampire insisted.  
"And it was working, too."

"Of course, the point of the game is to guess the name 
*before* the end of the century," Spike told his sire.  
"Remember, they're humans, they won't live forever.  You're 
gonna have to be a bit more specific in your questions."

"Gee thanks, boy," Angel said sarcastically as he glared at 
his smirking childe. 

Willow smiled apologetically at Angel and Fred before 
grabbing Spike again and pulling him away from the other 
couple.  "If you can't play nice with Angel and Fred, we'll 
just have to hang out with Buffy, Xander and Anya," she told 
him, shooting him a mock threatening glance.  

The blond tried to glare back at her, but his heart wasn't 
really in it.  Gotta keep up appearances, though, he reminded 
himself.  Couldn't have them thinking he had gone soft. 

"Fine," he muttered under his breath.  He could easily have 
broken away from her, or told her to go to hell, but if he 
was honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was 
enjoying being bossed around by the little redhead.  She was 
just so cute when she tried to be forceful.

Buffy looked up at them as they approached.  "You guys done 
already?" she asked, a hint of jealousy in her voice.  

Willow nodded, and then motioned for Buffy to turn around.  
She read the name Lara Croft scrawled hastily on the piece of 
paper and groaned, her eyes meeting Xander's smiling ones.

"What, what?" he asked, his face the picture of innocence.

"I knew it!" Buffy exploded, stalking towards Xander, as he 
hastily moved behind Anya.  "You cheated, didn't you?  You 
made something up, or chose a character from a stupid 
computer game or something?"

Xander peered out at her from behind Anya, using his 
girlfriend as an impromptu shield against the angry slayer.  
"Um, maybe," he conceded guiltily.

Willow laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.  "In his 
defense, Buffy, he probably really *does* admire her quite a 
bit.  In fact, when he was a teenager, I bet he 'admired' her 
every night when he was alone in his bedroom."

The blond vampire snorted with glee, and Xander's eyes went 
wide with horror as Anya turned on him and demanded, "What 
exactly does she mean by that, Alexander Harris?"  

Spike grinned at the young woman next to him and leaned down 
to whisper in her ear.  "Now who's not playing nice," he 
asked, caught by surprise when Willow suddenly turned her 
head to look up into his cold blue eyes.  A slight smile 
played around her lips, and her brilliant green eyes were 
wide with laughter, and something else he couldn't quite 
define.

"I think my work here is done," Willow said with a grin, 
leaving Buffy to referee between an enraged Anya and an 
apologetic, and uncharacteristically tongue-tied, Xander.  

"Take me for a walk?" she asked her partner in crime, that 
teasing smile still on her face.

"Anywhere you want to go," he agreed, falling into an easy 
step beside her.

They walked down to the dock in a companionable silence, 
Spike casting occasional glances at the young woman beside 
him.  

When they reached the dock, Willow sat down on the bench, 
pulling Spike down next to her.  He watched her face, looking 
for a clue to her mood, but nothing was forthcoming.

"You're different tonight, aren't you?"  It wasn't really a 
question, more of a statement.

Willow nodded her head in agreement, seeming to be deep in 
thought.  Her eyes gazed out over the fog-covered water, as 
if searching for answers.

"Why?  Is it because of the watcher?"

She turned to look at him, grateful for his perceptiveness.  
Then she turned back towards the water.  "I suppose it is," 
she admitted, "But not the way you think, probably."

"Then in what way, Willow? Tell me," he demanded quietly.

She turned to face him then, and he marveled at her beauty, 
and the way that the muted lights from the house bounced off 
of her stunning blood-red hair.  Her emerald eyes shone 
brightly with a range of emotions:  sadness, regret, 
determination, and even a bit of fear.  Fear, he wondered?  
Surely she knew that she had nothing to fear from him.  

Willow took a deep breath, held it as long as she could, and 
then began to speak.  "Giles died without warning, and it 
made me think about some things.  Things about myself, and my 
feelings, and what I want out of life."  When it looked like 
he might interrupt her, she held her hand up, stopping him.

"No, I need to say this.  For better or for worse, I need to 
know."

"Need to know what, luv?" he asked, as she lapsed into a 
brief silence.

"How you feel about me," she said bluntly, looking at the 
shocked vampire next to her.  She blushed then, a deep red 
crimson that no ordinary human would have been able to see in 
the darkness of the night.  But Spike could see it.

"Damn it," she swore softly, too embarrassed to even look at 
the blond's face.  "That is *not* the way this was supposed 
to go.  I planned this whole conversation, you know?  I was 
going to say that I had feelings for you, and then you were 
going to say whatever it was you would say, and then I would 
either be all happy and excited, or all disappointed, but oh, 
we can still be friends, and stuff like that."

She stopped, suddenly, and when she heard the vampire next to 
her start to laugh quietly, she stole a look at his face.  
The smile he wore was large and happy, and suddenly hope 
crept into her heart that somehow he did indeed feel 
something for her.

Spike saw her staring at him and his laughter faded, but a 
gentle smile remained.  He understood now why he had seen 
fear in her eyes earlier.  It hadn't been fear of him; it had 
been fear of rejection.  She had been afraid that after she'd 
poured out her heart to him, he would stomp all over it.

He grasped her small warm hands in his own cold ones and 
turned her to face him.  "Willow," he began, trying to 
memorize this moment, "I do have feelings for you.  Strong 
ones.  I'm not sure where they will lead, but I want to 
follow them, and you, wherever you want to go."

She released a deep breath, unaware that she had even been 
holding it.  He had feelings for her, she thought excitedly, 
his words to her ringing repeatedly through her head.  

Suddenly she smiled, and it was as if Spike was seeing the 
sun for the first time in ages.  The brightness that shone 
from her eyes was blinding in its intensity.  In that instant 
he realized that living with her for an eternity would not be 
long enough.  Damn it all, to hell with that romantic drivel, 
he thought, as he cupped her face lightly in his hands and 
pressed his lips to hers.

Willow sighed as they kissed, her lips parting automatically 
to allow his tongue to explore her eager mouth.  His hands 
moved from her face to her hair, teasing the long silky 
tresses with his fingers.  Soon she was breathing heavily, 
and damning her humanity and the fact that it made breathing 
necessary at all.

Finally Spike pulled away from her regretfully.  "We'd better 
get back, Willow.  The others will start to worry, I'm sure, 
and well, with Buffy in the mood she's in, I don't want to be 
pissing her off any more than usual.  Now that you're my 
girl, I suppose I have to promise not to kill her, don't I?"  
He asked the question teasingly, but Willow suspected that 
there was a certain amount of seriousness behind his joking. 
	
She looked at him, and with a light, but serious tone, set 
down the first rule of their relationship:  "If we're going 
to be together, you have to promise not to kill *any* of my 
friends.  That's not too much to ask, is it?"



Willow and Spike slowly walked back to the house hand in 
hand.  Few words were spoken, but much was said with the 
looks they cast at one another.  Their understanding was new 
and fragile, and neither one was sure exactly how they should 
act around one another.

"Should we tell the others? Do you think they'll understand?" 
Willow whispered nervously, as she approached the front door 
of the house.  "Not that it matters whether they do or not," 
she continued hurriedly, casting a quick look up to his face 
to make sure he understood her reasoning.  "I just mean, I 
don't know if we should go in there and make a big 
announcement, or whether we should just let them figure it 
out themselves."

Spike nodded, slightly relieved.  For a minute there, he'd 
been afraid that she intended to hide their relationship.  
The very thought that she would want to do that had saddened 
and angered him at the same time.  He had no intention of 
being kept out of any part of her life.  If they were to be 
together, everyone was going to know.

"When we walk in together," he said softly, his voice low and 
seductive, "and I hold you like this," he added, pulling her 
into the circle of his arms, "I think they'll get the idea."  
He smiled down at her radiant face, wishing that they could 
stand like this forever.  Unfortunately, dawn would come 
sooner or later, and by then it would behoove him to be 
inside.  After all, dating a vampire is one thing; dating a 
pile of dust is another one entirely.

"And if they still don't get it," Willow giggled, enjoying 
their game, "I could do this a couple of times," she said, 
pressing her lips to his, and linking her arms around his 
strong, pale neck.  

"Any time you w..." Spike began, but was interrupted by the 
opening of the door in front of them.  Xander and Anya stood 
within the threshold of the house, looking with surprise at 
the happy couple on the doorstep.

"I thought..." Xander began, slightly dazed.  He blinked 
several times, just making sure he was really seeing what he 
thought he was seeing. "You were...he was," but the poor boy 
couldn't seem to spit out the words.

Anya took charge of the situation then, deciding that Xander 
had embarrassed himself enough for one night.  "We thought we 
heard a noise outside," she explained.  "But obviously it was 
nothing.  Well, not nothing.  Definitely not nothing. But 
none of our business."

Willow, still comfortable in the vampire's arms, took in 
Xander's confusion and began to giggle.   Xander looked back 
at her, stunned at first, and then he too began to laugh.  
Perhaps it was the situation, or maybe it was just the need 
for something happy to break their tension, but soon Spike 
and Anya were laughing out loud as well.

"I guess we don't have to worry about how to tell everyone 
now," the vampire whispered into her ear as he nuzzled her 
neck.  Willow nodded happily in agreement.  As they entered 
the hallway, Buffy, Angel and Fred appeared from the living 
room, wondering what had been the cause for such hilarity.  
One look at Willow, held safely and comfortably in Spike's 
arms, and the smiles on both their faces, and it became 
obvious.

"So you finally decided to do something about it?  I would 
have bet good money that you'd go to your grave, again, 
without telling her how you feel." Angel's words brought a 
soft growl from Spike, but Willow's hand on his shoulder 
stopped him from telling his sire exactly what he thought of 
him.

"Angel, play nice," Fred remonstrated, talking softly as if 
to a wayward child.

The dark vampire looked over at the brunette that he had such 
feelings for, and realized that his teasing words were at 
least partly motivated by jealousy.  Spike had had the horns 
to actually open up to the woman he cared for.  Angel didn't.  
Then again, Spike could make love to Willow without turning 
into a homicidal maniac.  No matter how much he wanted to, 
he'd never be able to do that with Fred.  It was just too big 
of a chance to take.

"So, um, you two are, like, together?" Buffy asked, frowning.  
"I mean, I guess it's pretty obvious, but I just want to be 
sure, because, well, spells go wrong sometimes and things 
happen, and..." she trailed off uncomfortably.

"Yeah, we're together, and it has nothin' to do with some 
bleedin' spell, so you can just forget that little idea," 
Spike answered, sensing some antagonism behind the slayer's 
question and answering it with a little hostility of his own.

"I'm sure that's not what she meant," Willow assured him.  "I 
mean, she's my friend, and she wants me to be happy.  Right, 
Buffy?" The redhead shot her friend a questioning, and 
slightly pleading look, and Buffy decided that she would back 
off, for now.  She had always tolerated Spike's existence 
within their group because he was useful.  But if he thought 
for one minute that she would let him date Willow...Willow, 
of all people, well then, he was in for a rude awakening.  As 
soon as they were off this god-forsaken island, that is.  And 
if shortly after that, a certain bleach-blond vampire had a 
slight accident, well, things happen sometimes, especially on 
a hellmouth.

"Sure, whatever," she mumbled, ignoring the questioning looks 
she got from Xander and Anya as she headed up to her room.  
The others jumped slightly as the slam of her door 
reverberated around the house like a shot.

"Well, that went well," Willow remarked, attempting to inject 
some cheer into her voice and failing miserably.  She was not 
quite sure what had just happened between her and Buffy.

"Don't worry Will, she'll come around," Xander told her, 
giving her a consoling smile.

"Surprised you're not right there along with her," Spike 
remarked carefully, knowing that the young man before him had 
never been one of his biggest fans.

"Nah, you and I get along okay now, don't we, now that you're 
not trying to kill me, that is.  At any rate, I know you'll 
take good care of Willow.  Because, if you don't, Buffy, 
Angel and I will just come around and kick your ass, right?" 
he added with a lopsided smile.  "Either way, it's a win-win 
situation for me."

The group dispersed as they laughed at Xander's words, but 
underneath the laughter there was still a thread of 
uneasiness.  There were just too many uncertainties right 
now.  Not just with the bright and shiny new couple standing 
uncertainly in the foyer, but also with their situation on 
this island and the intentions of those keeping them here.  
Would their captors *ever* make themselves known?  

Willow also knew that Buffy would make 'them,' whoever they 
were, pay for the death of her watcher.  How would that 
affect the situation?  The slayer seemed less than mentally 
stable at the moment, although one could hardly blame her, 
considering all she'd gone through.  Giles had been more than 
a father figure to her.  He had also been her friend, her 
confidant, and her watcher.  She had lost so very much in the 
space of a heartbeat.

Maybe I'm being too hard on Buffy, Willow thought.  How can I 
expect her to be happy for Spike and me when she's still 
trying to get over Giles' death?  Then again, how can *I* be 
so happy when we laid Giles' body to rest so recently?  Am I 
just a terrible person?

"I can see those wheels in your head spinnin' round and 
round, luv.  You're makin' me positively dizzy.  Whatcha 
thinkin' 'bout?" Spike's worried words penetrated her 
internal monologue, and she looked up at him, trying to hide 
her uncertainty from his sharp eyes.  His arm around her 
shoulder tightened, as he pulled her into the safety of his 
embrace, and she held onto him like a lifeline to happiness.  
Sadness and self-recriminations threatened to overwhelm her, 
and he seemed to be the only one who could pull her away from 
it.

"Just thinking about Giles," she admitted, hiding her head 
against his chest.  

"You don't think he would have approved of this, do you?"

She knew what 'this' he was referring to.  That particular 
thought hadn't actually crossed her mind. "Honestly, Spike, I 
hadn't even thought about that.  I was just missing him.  And 
I can't even conceive of how bad it must be for Buffy."

Spike knew that her thoughts lingered on the confrontation 
they had had earlier with Buffy.  Running a comforting hand 
through her silky hair, he murmured, "She'll come around, 
Willow.  You know she's upset right now, what with everything 
that's happened. Just give her some time."  And if that 
doesn't work, he thought grimly, well, slayers don't live 
forever.  It was truly amazing that this one had lasted as 
long as she had, really.  Although in truth, Spike knew that 
a lot of the credit for her longevity was due to the very 
people on this island.  Without her friends Buffy was good, 
but she wasn't *that* good.

"C'mon luv, it's getting late.  Or early, I suppose.  Either 
way, it's time to get you to bed."  He took a step back from 
her and swung an arm around her shoulder.  Willow snuggled 
against him, and a smile lit his solemn countenance.  She 
snuck a quick look up at him, catching the smile before he 
had a chance to wipe off of his face.  

"I'm glad you're here," she told him seriously, smiling back 
at him.  "As long as we're together, I think I can handle 
whatever there is to come."

Little did she know just how much more she was going to have 
to deal with.




It was a little past noon before Willow climbed sleepily out 
of bed.  The noise that had awakened her belonged to Buffy.  
She could hear her friend using the hairdryer, and the whir 
of that device had brought her out of a delicious dream 
involving Spike, whipped cream, and a pair of velvet-lined 
handcuffs. 

'Spike,' she thought, the word echoing through her mind.  She 
thought back to the previous evening, still not believing 
that she had had the nerve to confess her feelings to him.  
Even more surprising to her was the fact that he had admitted 
that he felt something for her.  Her mind quickly drifted 
towards panic mode, thinking of all the things that could 
possibly go wrong with the relationship, but she steered it 
back towards the land of reality.  She was working really 
hard to focus on the real and not allow herself to dwell on 
the 'what-ifs'.  It was just harder to do that some days than 
others.

Willow knew that she needed to talk to Buffy about her 
budding relationship with Spike.  Sure, he was a vampire, and 
Buffy was a slayer, and the two were about as opposite as day 
and night, but she was hoping that she could convince Buffy 
that this relationship was important to her, and that her 
friend would at least accept it, if not support her in her 
choice.  No, she considered, perhaps support was too much to 
ask for, at least right now.  But acceptance, that was not 
too much to ask, she hoped

The noise of the hairdryer had stopped, and Willow decided to 
make her move.  "Buffy," she called softly as she knocked on 
the door.  

The door opened, and Willow looked cheerfully into her 
friend's sleepy eyes.  Buffy had never been much of a morning 
person, and last night she had twisted and turned most of the 
night, trying desperately to think of some solution to the 
'train wreck just waiting to happen', which was how she 
thought of the new relationship between Willow and Spike.

"Morning, Willow," she mumbled drowsily, trying to muster up 
some enthusiasm for the coming day.  Usually a shower and 
some quality time in front of the mirror would allow her to 
dredge up some energy and face the others as her usual 
chipper self.  But today that just didn't seem to be working. 

"Afternoon," the redhead corrected with a smile.  She knew 
that Buffy was never at her most lucid shortly after waking, 
and she thought that maybe that would be a good thing.  They 
could have this discussion before Buffy had a chance to put 
her defenses up.

"So, about last night," she began.  "I hope you can be happy 
for me and for Spike.  We really do care about each other--" 

"Sorry, Willow, but that bleach blond menace cares about 
nothing except where his next meal comes from," Buffy said 
harshly, brushing her hair with long, angry strokes.  

Okay, Willow thought bitterly, maybe defenseless-Buffy also 
equals tactless and judgmental-Buffy.  No, no, that's not 
fair, she told herself.  She's still going through a lot of 
stuff, remember?  She needs my support and my understanding.  
Maybe I shouldn't have brought all this up right now.  The 
timing just wasn't right.

On the other hand, she couldn't let Buffy's accusation go 
unchallenged.  "That may have been true at one time, I admit 
it, but it's not true now and you know it.  He's helped us, 
and he hasn't had to.  He could have gotten that chip out, 
but he chose not to.  He could have left, but he chose not to 
do that either.  Maybe he doesn't have a soul, but he's got a 
heart, and he feels things and he loves and--" 

"Sorry, Willow, but I'm not going to stand here and listen to 
you sing his praises.  He's a killer.  He'll always be a 
killer.  Just because he's not killing right this minute 
doesn't mean that he won't in the future.  What if that chip 
breaks or malfunctions?  And it will, sooner or later.  I 
promise you, the minute it does, he'll be killing left and 
right without a care for your feelings at all. "

"Sorry Buffy, but you're wrong on this one." Willow sighed.  
Perhaps it was just too soon to talk to her about this.  They 
both needed time, she realized.  "Um, I guess I'll wait for 
you to be done in here.  Let me know when you're finished, 
okay?"

Buffy shrugged.  "You're welcome to it," she said calmly, 
leaving the bathroom and closing the door to her room behind 
her.

That *so* didn't go the way I wanted it to, Willow thought 
sadly.  




Her morning routine finished, Willow made her way to the 
kitchen and the comfort of a quick sandwich, before heading 
into the living room to see what everyone else was up to.  
Buffy seemed to be watching a movie on the TV, her face a 
sullen mask which she turned briefly to Willow upon her 
entrance.  Angel and Fred were at the card table with Spike, 
and seemed involved in some sort of animated discussion about 
portals and demon dimensions.  

Xander and Anya had not yet made an appearance, apparently, 
which surprised the redhead slightly.  Anya tended to sleep 
in late whenever she could, but usually Xander was up fairly 
early, even with the strange hours that they all seemed to be 
keeping lately.

Suddenly a sharp scream pierced the air, and another.  It was 
Anya, she realized, as the screams seemed to blend together 
into one long hysterical tone.  As a group, they all headed 
for the stairway, following the ex-demon's voice to the 
source of her troubles.

Buffy was the first to reach her, and what she saw from the 
doorway of the couple's room made her blood run cold.  
Because there, lying on the bed that Anya had so recently 
vacated, was the dull, lifeless body of Xander Harris.  

Anya had stopped screaming now, and had pulled the boy's 
unmoving form into her arms, cradling his head and whispering 
soft words to his dead ears.  Buffy attempted to come closer, 
but a growl and a flash of hostile eyes from Anya made her 
think better of it.  

"Anya," Fred whispered softly, coming in and *very* slowly 
edging closer to the bed, "What happened?"

Perhaps it was the tone of her voice, or the way that she 
moved, but Anya didn't seem as threatened by Fred as she had 
by Buffy.  She allowed the brunette to approach her, her eyes 
locked onto her face as if afraid to look away.  "I woke up," 
she said, choking on the words, "And he was d--de--gone."  
Another sob wracked her body, and finally she allowed Fred to 
touch her and comfort her.  

The brunette drew Anya away from Xander's body until they 
were both standing in the middle of the room.  She wrapped 
her soft arms around the devastated woman and spoke softly to 
her, running a gentle hand over her hair and trying her best 
to calm the bereft woman.

"He was like this when you woke up?"

Anya simply nodded.  The usually loquacious woman no longer 
seemed capable of forming even the simplest of words.

"You didn't hear anything?" Angel asked, still standing with 
the others in the doorway.

"Of course she didn't," Fred remonstrated, thinking the 
question rather stupid.  "If she had, she would have done 
something, wouldn't you, Anya?"

The woman sniffled slightly, before turning tear-filled eyes 
to Angel and nodding.  

"Come on, Anya, let's get you out of here," Fred commanded in 
that still soft, still quiet voice of hers.  The two women 
made their way down the stairway and soon all the others 
could hear was the occasional murmured voice coming from the 
living room.

Angel, Spike, Buffy and Willow all moved slowly into the 
room, the two vampires looking over the body with curiosity.  
The women, on the other hand, were stunned.  Willow was 
especially hard-hit.  She looked at the body of her lifelong 
friend, and all she could see was the boy that had given her 
a yellow crayon; her friend and her protector through school, 
and beyond.  He had given her her first dancing lesson; 
together they had learned how to ride bikes.  She was to have 
been his best man at his wedding to Anya.  But now that would 
never happen, she realized, shaking her head sadly.  

"Xander," she cried softly, as if the words and her tears 
would somehow make things right. 

Spike was immediately at her side, and she threw herself into 
his arms, soaking his shirt with her tears and touching his 
long-dead heart with her cries.  "Let's get you somewhere 
quiet, luv," he said, attempting to pull her out of the room.  
Her body moved with his, but her eyes stayed riveted on 
Xander's form until they had left the room, and a dark, solid 
wall made it impossible.

Angel looked at Buffy speculatively. "You thinking what I'm 
thinking?" he asked warily.

"I'm thinking that his neck's been broken," she snapped back, 
wishing that she had someone to hold her like Willow did.  
Not that she felt that way about Angel anymore, but still, it 
would have been nice if he had even offered, she thought.

Angel nodded, thinking about how to phrase the next sentence.  
But Buffy beat him to it.  "Makes me wonder now if Giles' 
death wasn't quite so accidental," she remarked casually, but 
the dark vampire could see the quickly hidden pain that 
lurked behind her eyes.  She wasn't quite as tough as she'd 
like everyone to think, he knew.




Xander was gone.  Xander was gone.  Xander was gone.  The 
words ran through her head at breakneck speed, and each time 
they tore her heart just a little bit more.  Images of her 
life-long friend flowed behind Willow's closed eyes, as she 
and Anya held each other's sobbing bodies.  First there was 
'broken yellow crayon' Xander.  Then there was 'shot down by 
Cordelia' Xander.  Followed quickly by 'broom-closet Xander.'  
Then there was that brief, unfortunate incident with the 
fluking and Cordelia and Oz catching them.  Okay, maybe that 
memory wasn't such a happy one.  She quickly replaced it with 
Xander and the look of excitement on his face as he told them 
he had proposed to Anya.

They had had their entire adult life ahead of them, and now 
it was over.  Willow tried to reign in her out-of-control 
emotions, pulling away to look at the other woman.  "I'm so 
sorry, Anya," she whispered, taking in the look of absolute 
anguish on her friend's face.  "If there was anything, 
*anything* I could do to bring him back, I would."

Anya sniffled slightly, staring back at the redhead with red-
rimmed eyes.  "I know, Willow.  I know.  You loved him almost 
as much as I did," she acknowledged sadly.

The ex-demon stopped for a moment, wiping a stray tear from 
her eye before she continued.  "We talked about this 
yesterday, you know," she admitted.  Willow looked at her in 
puzzlement, and Anya elaborated.  "About Giles, and how his 
death might not have been an accident."

Willow looked even more confused, so Anya spelled it out to 
her in harsh words, wondering how anyone could be that 
na??ve.  "We all assumed that because nobody else was on the 
island, Giles' death must have been an accident.  We ignored 
the fact that there was another possibility."  The last 
sentence came out in a rushed whisper:  "It could have been 
one of us."

Looking into Anya's eyes, Willow realized that the woman was 
serious.  "B--but it couldn't have been.  I mean, none of us 
would do that.  Anya," she said insistently, then shook her 
head. "No, I can't believe it.  I *won't* believe it."  Her 
movements became more agitated as she considered the 
possibility briefly, before rejecting it again.  "No," she 
simply said.

Anya shook her head sadly at her friend's display.  The poor 
thing really *was* that na??ve, she realized.  "I've been 
around a lot longer than you have, Willow.  I've seen friends 
do things to each other that would make you sick with 
disgust.  Heck, more often than not, I've been the one that 
they've called on to wreak their vengeance," she added, a 
small sliver of pride creeping into her voice.  

She sighed again.  "Even if you won't believe me, just be 
careful, okay?"

Willow nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on Anya's face.  She 
still didn't believe what Anya had told her, but telling her 
that she would be careful would cost her nothing, and might 
make the other woman feel better.

"I have a feeling that this is far from over--"




Their service for Xander was a somber affair.  They buried 
him beside Giles later that evening, the two vampires once 
again doing the work while the women looked on in saddened 
silence.  Buffy took turns between holding a sobbing Anya, 
and shooting glares at Willow and Spike, both of whom she 
seemed to hold responsible for, well, something.  She also 
seemed to shy away from Angel and Fred, who stood together, 
the tragedy seeming to somehow bring them closer as well.



Later, after the final words were said, they all gathered in 
the living room.  Spike thought back to a couple of days 
before, when he and Xander had happily engaged in a spot of 
computer-animated violence.  Who could have guessed that 
things would go so badly, so quickly?  This group had killed 
thousands of vampires, and stopped countless apocalypses, but 
now the group was being dismantled one by one, and he would 
give just about anything to figure out how and why.  

Not that he cared too much what happened to the slayer, 
really.  Actually, he didn--t give a damn what happened to 
the bitch.  And he could envision a world without Anya or 
Fred with a slight twinge of regret, but nothing more.  But 
his Willow was at risk too, and that frightened him.  Very 
little frightened him these days, but that did.  Their 
relationship, if you could call something so new and tenuous 
a relationship, had such promise for the future.  For 
eternity.  But if she died now, so did any chance of their 
happiness.

He shook such deep thoughts from his head, and concentrated 
on the young woman sitting beside him.  She had been quiet 
and withdrawn all day, seeking him physically and touching 
him as often as she could.  She seemed to derive comfort from 
the casual contact, almost as if she needed to reassure 
herself that he was still there.  That was fine with Spike.  
The feel of her warm hand on his arm, or the press of her 
soft thighs next to his, all these things made him happy, and 
seemed to make her misery easier to bear.  If he could 
provide solace for her, he was more than willing to do that.

Angel stood, walking slowly to stand before the assembled 
group.  "We need to talk," he told them solemnly.  Looking 
around, he saw that all eyes were on him.  Even Buffy seemed 
to have stopped shooting glares at Spike, and was giving him 
her full attention.

He began speaking quietly, trying to be considerate of the 
pain that the others were feeling.  He had never been all 
that fond of Xander, probably because the boy had always been 
so jealous of his relationship with Buffy.  Well, and the 
Angelus incident certainly hadn't helped to cement a bond of 
friendship between them.

"As you probably know by now, Xander had a broken neck," he 
began.  Anya seemed to shrink in upon herself, her eyes 
turning down.  Buffy held Anya's hands and shared some of her 
strength with the ex-demon.  After a moment, Anya nodded her 
thanks to Buffy, and looked up again at Angel.

The dark vampire swept the room with his eyes, watching as 
Willow turned and buried her head in Spike's chest, as the 
younger man ran a gentle hand through her hair and whispered 
quiet words of comfort.  Finally her tear-streaked face 
turned towards him once again.  

"I'm sorry, Angel," she said softly, "Please continue.  I 
promise, I'll be strong."

He stood uncertainly, not sure how to say what he needed to 
say next.  He didn't want to cause them any further pain, but 
something dangerous was going on here, and they needed to 
understand that.

"I know it's hard, but we need to figure out who's 
responsible for Xander's death, and for Giles' death as well.  
Something, or someone, lured us out here, and one by one, 
they're killing us."  Several eyes looked back at him with 
understanding.  They had already figured out the danger they 
were facing, and although his bald statement of it was 
frightening, it wasn't a surprise.

"Are we-are we sure that there's nobody else here?" Fred 
asked quietly.  She didn't know these people well, but 
something inside told her that none of them was capable of 
doing anything like this.  Sure, maybe they were physically 
capable, but she didn't see the darkness of soul that would 
be needed to kill someone the way that these two men had been 
killed.

"Nope, nobody is here but us," Buffy insisted.  "We searched 
thoroughly."  She stopped for a moment, shooting Spike a 
slightly hostile look before continuing.  "Besides, wouldn't 
you demon-types have heard an extra heartbeat or smelled 
someone else, if there was anyone else to see or smell?"  She 
looked back and forth at the two vampires, who hesitated a 
moment before nodding their heads in confirmation.

"Nobody here but us chickens," Spike said softly.  "Or 
sitting ducks," he added uneasily.  

"So which one of you is doing this?" Buffy asked harshly, 
standing up and looking at Angel and Spike accusingly.  
"Because if I have to, I'll stake you both."

"Buffy-" Angel began, stunned and stung by her allegation.  
He held his hand out in an attempt to placate her.

Buffy stepped away from him quickly, fear and distrust in her 
eyes.  "Get away from me!  I don't know you anymore."

Angel took a step back, hurt and shocked by her reaction.  
"Buffy," he said softly, trying to make eye contact in an 
effort to convince her of his sincerity.  "I would never hurt 
you.  You know that.  You're upset right now, but when you 
calm down, you'll realize that."

"Either that, or I'll be dead," she shot back, fear making 
her voice shake slightly.  She looked back at Anya, Fred and 
Willow, directing her next words at them.  "Souls disappear, 
and chips malfunction.  Remember that."  Then she whirled 
away from them, her hair flying out behind her as she ran 
from the room.  Shortly they heard her footsteps in the hall, 
and then the bang of the front door as she left the house.

"Over-react much?" Spike mocked her quietly to the silent 
room, and then shut his mouth quickly as four sets of eyes 
were turned in his direction.  

"Shut up," Angel growled.  "You're not making this any 
easier, childe."

"Didn't know that was my job, poof," the blond shot back, his 
eyes flashing yellow for just a moment.  Then he looked down 
and saw the sadness in Willow's eyes, and whispered "Sorry, 
luv," into her ear.  

Willow nodded her understanding.  She knew that the younger 
vampire tended to react quickly to a perceived attack, such 
as the one Buffy had launched at them, and then think later.  
He might say something mean or snarky, but he didn't really 
mean it, and upon further thought, would probably regret it.  
"It's okay," she mumbled into his chest, willing to forgive 
him almost anything as long as he would continue to hold her 
and make the rest of the world go away.

"I've never seen Buffy act like that," Anya said, astonished.  
"She was completely out of control."

"She doesn't always react well to a problem that she can't 
beat into submission," Angel agreed, sitting down and joining 
them.  The five of them sat quietly for a moment, each 
absorbed in their own deep thoughts.  

Finally, Anya broke their silence.  "I'm going to go upstairs 
and watch a movie, okay?"  The unspoken words were the ones 
that they heard the loudest; the ones that told them that she 
needed to be alone with her thoughts, and the ghost of 
Xander.  They reminded her that they would be there for her, 
whenever she was ready.

The others moved back to the card table to talk, and after a 
bit Angel left to make some dinner.  Fred, deep in 
conversation with Willow, heard a series of loud bangs from 
within the other room, and decided that that was her cue to 
see what trouble Angel had gotten himself into.  She excused 
herself from the table, and with a slight bit of trepidation, 
snuck into the kitchen.

The sight that met her eyes there left her breathless.  But 
fortunately it wasn't the terrified, 'so scared you can't 
breathe' kind of breathless.  It was more the 'giggling so 
hard you can't breathe' kind of breathless.

In front of the oven stood Angel, master vampire, and one 
quarter of the Scourge of Europe.  And in his hair was an 
entire pot of cooked spaghetti, the long strings of pasta 
covering his hair and sliding down his face.  

"This isn't funny," he told her solemnly, as she erupted into 
peals of near-hysterical laughter.  

The serious look on his face as he stood there, covered in 
what was apparently an attempt at her dinner, was too much 
for the brunette.  She leaned back against the wall and slid 
down to the floor, sitting Indian-style, bent over as she 
tried in vain to bring her laughter under control.  Finally, 
when she had lapsed into the occasional giggle, she chanced a 
look back up at him.

He gazed back at her, his face impassive, but his eyes held a 
strange emotion that she couldn't quite define.  It reminded 
her that there was still so much she didn't know about the 
man before her, and the thought sobered her a bit.  

"So," she said, rising gracefully to her feet, and walking 
towards the vampire.  "Um, what happened here?  I mean, I 
know what happened, you obviously had a fight with one of 
those notoriously pesky spaghetti-demons," she added, unable 
to stop the grin that again broke the surface of her face.  
"But, well--"

"I was making spaghetti, all right?" he answered, slightly 
miffed that she was still finding so much humor in his 
predicament.

She moved closer to him, close enough that the air around him 
was scented with her.  Unconsciously he sniffed the air, 
enjoying the scent of cinnamon and vanilla.  And pasta.  
Damn.

Fred reached up and grabbed handfuls of wet noodles, tossing 
them carelessly towards the sink, where they stuck with a 
splat.  Soon Angel was no longer covered with pasta, but his 
hair had definitely seen better days.  "Go upstairs and take 
a shower," she ordered with a smile.  "I'll cover for you, 
tell them you're cooking them a special dinner or something.  
Come back when you're done, and we can wow them all with your 
culinary prowess."

Angel gave the brunette a grateful look, before heading out 
the door that would take him into the foyer.



Angel slipped quietly back into the kitchen, coming up slowly 
behind the preoccupied brunette.  She stood in front of the 
oven, slowly stirring the contents of a large kettle with a 
wooden spoon.  From the looks of it, she was already boiling 
another kettle of pasta, and had just started to heat the 
spaghetti sauce.

A sly twinkle shone in his eyes as the beginnings of a plan 
formed in his head.  He'd teach her a lesson for laughing at 
him earlier he decided, as he came to a stop directly behind 
her.  She hummed softly as she stirred the sauce, a dreamy, 
haunting melody.  He didn't recognize the tune, but was 
transfixed by her rendition of it none-the-less.  It reminded 
him of far-away places and times long past, like an old folk 
song or a lullaby.  

He was so entranced that he didn't even notice her turn 
around to face him.  Surprised to see him standing there, so 
close behind her, Fred started a bit, her hands flying up to 
her mouth as a muffled shriek escaped her lips.  Fortunately, 
it wasn't loud enough to bring the others in, but it was loud 
enough to bring a grin to the dark vampire's face.

"Damn you, Angel, you scared me half to death!"

He reached out his hands to steady her, placing them lightly 
on her hips.  She hadn't really needed the help, he supposed, 
but he was just enjoying the feeling of her warm body 
underneath his cold hands.  

Suddenly memories of Buffy assailed him. Being with her, the 
casual touching, and what that had led to.  As innocent as it 
might seem now, he could not head down that path again.  He 
needed to be strong and resist temptation, even when it was 
something as innocent and enchanting as a stolen moment with 
Fred.  Slowly, regretfully, he moved his hands off of her 
hips, and looked down at her with a reassuring, *friendly* 
smile.

"I had to pay you back for laughing at me earlier," he 
reminded her, hoping that she would not see through his 
attempt at misdirection.  "Now we're even."

Her shrewd hazel eyes gazed at him astutely, knowing that 
there was more to his behavior than what his words said.  But 
she trusted him enough to let him set the course of their 
relationship.

"Why don't you grab plates for everyone, and some blood for 
you and Spike, and we can all eat together," she told him, 
chasing the away the awkward moment with her cheerful 
suggestion.

He smiled his thanks, as he busied himself around the 
kitchen.  They worked in perfect harmony, until soon there 
were two full mugs of warm blood and four plates of spaghetti 
and garlic bread.

Angel cocked an eye at the number of plates.  "You think 
Buffy's going to come back any time soon?" he asked Fred.

Fred's smile faltered bit, and she bit her lower lip 
uneasily.  "You know her better than I do.  What do you 
think?"

"She's really not the Buffy I knew," he admitted sadly.  
"She's behaving erratically, lashing out at her friends, and 
-- well, at this point I don't really havee a clue what she'll 
do."

"You don't think she'll try to hurt Spike, do you?  Or you?"

The dark vampire shrugged uneasily, an elegant, expressive 
motion.  "I don't think so, but I just don't know.  We'll all 
just have to be careful, I guess."  

They were both silent for a moment; Angel pondering his lost 
love, and Fred wondering how she could help her friend.  Then 
the door from the living room opened, and Willow and Spike 
were there, and the moment was gone.




Dinner was a great success.   Willow raved over the 
spaghetti, and eventually a shamefaced Angel admitted that 
his part in creating the meal was rather minimal.  

"But you set a mean table," the redhead reassured him with a 
sincere smile.  

"Speaking of empty places," Spike began.

"I wasn't aware we were," Angel said quickly, attempting to 
stop the conversation there.

"Yeah, good try Poof.  So where's the slayer?  Not here?  
What, is she going to live off the land until we're rescued?  
Eat fresh nuts and berries and all that rot?"

Willow smiled gently at the picture that Spike's words 
evoked.  "Buffy's not exactly 'nature girl,'" she admitted.  
"I kind of doubt that she'd know a raspberry bush from a yew 
tree.  Although I hope she'd have the sense to stay away from 
a yew berries because they're kind of, well, deadly."

"Okay, so the slayer's off on a brood-fest somewhere, but 
where's demon girl?" the blond asked.

Willow gave him her 'hurt puppy dog' face, and he relented.  
"Sorry, luv.  I mean, where's Anya?"

Angel snickered at Spike's display of his fine backpedaling 
skills, and both Willow and Spike shot him angry looks.

"How does it feel to be whipped, boy?" Angel asked, still 
smirking.

"Hey now, play fair, Angel," Willow protested.  

"Yeah, it isn't like I gave you a bad time about being 
Slayer-whipped, now, is it?" Spike asked.  "Oh, wait, that's 
right, I did.  Because you were a bloody ponce about it.  But 
me, well, I may be whipped, but I'm *manly* about it."  He 
turned to the young woman beside him and gave her a wink.  
"Aren't I, luv?"

Both women erupted quickly into giggles, while Angel looked 
at Fred with eyes filled with mock betrayal.  

"Oh come on, Angel," the brunette told him, trying to curb 
her laughter, "You have to admit, he's pretty funny."

Angel continued to sit sullenly in his chair, when something 
Spike mentioned earlier came back to him.  "Where exactly 
*is* Anya?" he asked.

Willow and Spike both shrugged. "She never came back down, so 
I figured she still wanted to be alone," Willow explained.  
"Why don't Fred and I go upstairs and take her a plate of 
spaghetti.  That way we can pry, but without really seeming 
to pry."

Fred got up and quickly prepared a plate.  The two women 
chatted comfortably as they worked, while the two seated 
vampires silently challenged each other to a stare-off.  
Neither seemed particularly happy with the other, and short 
of physical violence, this seemed to be the best way for them 
to show their displeasure with one another.

"Well when you two get through showing each other how fierce 
and manly you are," Fred told them, a smile playing along her 
lips, "Come out in the living room, and as soon as we get 
done with Anya, you can help us figure out what we're going 
to do tonight."

The preoccupied vampires didn't even glance in her direction 
as Fred and Willow left the room.  The two could hear as the 
two women giggled all the way to the foyer, though.

"Well we all know who's the manlier of us two blokes, so 
we're just wasting our time," Spike said cockily.

Angel wasn't biting, continuing to hold the blond vampire's 
gaze.  Their concentration was broken suddenly, though, by 
the sound of a door banging closed upstairs.  Both men stood 
suddenly, all competitive urges gone, as their keen ears 
heard the sound of elevated heartbeats and two pairs of feet 
racing down the stairway.

"Spike," Willow screamed, flinging herself into his arms when 
their paths met in the foyer.  She was crying again, 
something that she had done much to much of lately.  

"What is it, luv," he asked, suddenly frightened for her.  He 
held her tightly in his arms, afraid to let her go again.

Angel sat Fred down on the bottom stair of the staircase, 
noting the slightly glazed look in her eyes, and deducing 
correctly that she was suffering from shock.  The brunette 
wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, rocking back and 
forth and mutterin "not again, not again."

"Oh god, Spike, it was awful," Willow moaned quietly.  

"Shush, Willow. Relax.  Your heart, it's racing.  You've got 
to relax, okay?" he murmured, trying to calm the frightened 
redhead.

"What happened, Willow?" Angel asked.  He didn't think that 
Fred was in any condition to answer his questions, so he 
directed them at the crying woman in his childe's arms.  
"Willow?" he asked again.

She broke away from Spike for a moment; just long enough to 
answer Angel's question.  "It was Anya.  She was--dead," the 
last word came out as a sigh.  "It wasn't pretty," she added 
softly.

"Take care of Fred for a minute, would you?" Angel asked 
Spike, before heading up the stairs.  "I'll be right back," 
he added, as he saw a slightly panicky look start to enter 
Fred's eyes.  "Okay?"

The young woman nodded slightly, then went back to her 
examination of the floor beneath her feet, rocking gently 
back and forth.  Willow sat down next to her, and Spike sat 
next to her, as the women tried to absorb yet another death.  

It had only been hours since Willow had said good-bye to 
Xander, and now Anya was gone too.  It was more than her 
overburdened heart could bear.  She knew that emotionally she 
had begun to shut down, but right now she didn't think that 
she could do anything else.  The weight of the situation 
pressed down on her like an inescapable force, and all she 
could do was endure it as best she could.

She felt an arm loop around her shoulder, and remembered that 
no matter how awful things were, she wasn't alone.  She had 
Spike with her now, and he would help her get through this.  
The thought was comforting, and she allowed herself to lay 
her head lightly on his shoulder.  

"I'm not leaving you alone, Willow.  Not until we leave this 
damn island.  It's just not safe."

The words made her feel secure and protected, and she relaxed 
completely.  

They sat that way for a few minutes before Angel came back, 
his face telling the tale.  What they had seen was real, and 
Anya was really gone.

"I think it was yew berries," Angel said quietly, sitting 
down slowly next to Fred.  The brunette seemed a little 
better now; she had stopped rocking and was simply sitting 
quietly and staring down.  When she noticed Angel sitting 
next to her, the look she gave him made it impossible for him 
to keep his distance like he had hoped to.  He put an arm 
around her fragile shoulders and held her as she buried her 
head in his chest.

"I saw them earlier.  The island's bloody rotten with them.  
But why do you think it was that?" Spike asked, curious.

"Because there was one on the floor next to the bed," he told 
them.  

"Anya wouldn't do that," Willow insisted, their words 
dragging her out of her own terror-induced fog.  "I mean, 
yeah, Xander dying hit her hard, but she wouldn't have killed 
herself.  She's lived longer than all of us combined.  
There's no way that she'd let this get her that far down."

"Willow's right," Spike insisted.  "Demon girl had a strong 
will, and ultimately she had a strong streak of self-
preservation.  She loved the boy, but she would have grieved 
and moved on.  No, this is the work of our unseen 'hosts.'  
Damn it all," he said, standing up and beginning to pace in 
his frustration.  "We don't see them, hear them, or smell 
them, but they've got to be out there somewhere."

"Unless--" Fred whispered softly, breaking her self-imposed 
silence for a moment.

"Unless what, Fred?" Angel asked.

Spike could tell by the horrified look on the brunette's face 
exactly what direction her thoughts were heading.  "Unless 
Buffy," he finished, shrugging as Angel and Willow both sent 
angry looks his direction.

"Buffy wouldn't do this," Willow asserted, fairly certain 
that it was the truth.

"Normally I'd agree with you, luv," the blond vampire said 
sadly, as he stopped his pacing and went to sit down by the 
redhead again.  "But these are hardly 'normal' times.  She's 
been rather unbalanced lately; maybe her responsibilities 
have become too much.  She's lived longer than any other 
slayer, ever.  That kind of pressure and responsibility has 
got to affect a person.  And then you take it away for a 
week, and combined with what happened to Giles--"

Neither Angel nor Willow was willing to agree with him, but 
Spike could tell that Fred had her doubts.  Smart girl, he 
thought.  He had some doubts about the slayer himself.



They buried Anya next to Xander.  The weather was beginning 
to change, and the temperature had dropped significantly 
during the last few hours.  It didn't seem to bother the 
vampires, but Willow and Fred had bundled up before heading 
out to say a few final words to Anya.

They had looked for Buffy, calling out to her and telling her 
of Anya's death, but all they heard was silence, and the 
moaning of the wind as it raced through the trees.  It was 
almost an unearthly sound, Willow thought as she listened, 
trying to fashion the moans and groans of the wind into words 
of some sort.

The young woman shivered slightly as another strong gust 
struck her, and Spike pulled her close, trying to use his 
body as a shield against both the harsh weather and the harsh 
reality of their lives.  She was grateful, but she knew that 
she would have to be strong and stand on her own or she would 
never make it through this.  Earlier, she had almost broken 
down, so great was her horror at what was happening.  She had 
resolved not to be so weak again.  

"Do you want to say something?" Spike asked her, knowing that 
although she and Anya hadn't been best friends, they had 
definitely worked through some of their 'Xander' issues and 
reached an understanding of sorts.  Plus, being Willow, he 
was sure she would have some kind word to say. 

The redhead nodded numbly, trying to pull her thoughts back 
together.  What did she want to say?  She and the ex-demon 
had never been all that close, although she certainly didn't 
hate her either.  They had just never really seen the world 
the same way, she supposed.  

"Anya," she began tentatively, unsure where she was headed 
with her words to the woman buried below. "I know we weren't 
really close, but I did consider you a friend.  I respected 
you.  You were honest, loyal, sincere, and--and never 
hesitated to speak your mind, no matter how much we shushed 
you.  Wherever you are, I hope you continue to do that," she 
finished quietly.

"She was a bit of all right," Spike agreed, 'Although what 
she saw in the moron,' he thought to himself, 'I'll never 
know.'

Angel and Fred, not really knowing Anya at all, didn't have 
much to say, so the four made their way quickly back to the 
comfort of the mansion.  Little was said, as each of them 
seemed trapped within their own deep thoughts.





Angel lit a fire in the living room fireplace, and soon the 
four of them sat comfortably around it.  

Spike had chosen a seat on the couch, his arm laid 
protectively across Willow's shoulders and their fingers 
laced casually together.  She had been so quiet since they 
left Anya, and he was beginning to wonder what kind of 
thoughts were running through her mind.

Angel lay on the softly carpeted floor, facing the fire.  He 
seemed to crave the heat, and like a large cat, he stretched 
and relaxed as he enjoyed the warmth that surrounded his 
body.  Fred, who finally seemed to be bouncing back from the 
earlier trauma, sat down just in back of him, her eyes 
riveted to the flames dancing beyond Angel's relaxed body.

Spike was never one for comfortable silences, so he stole a 
quick look at his love beside him, then spoke to the room at 
large.  "We've all been dancing around the issue, but we need 
to talk about Buffy."

"What about her?" Willow asked, not liking the direction she 
sensed his thoughts were heading.  "She didn't kill Anya, 
Spike."

The redhead let go of his hand and moved back to look him in 
the eye.  "I don't care what you say, or what she was saying 
or feeling.  I know Buffy.  She wouldn't do this."

Angel's soft voice floated up to her from in front of the 
fire.  "Willow, you know that she hasn't been herself lately. 
She--"

"No!" The redhead said, shaking her head emphatically.  
"She's been through a lot, yeah, I admit it, but if she 
killed Anya, then that would mean she killed Xander too, and 
Giles.  And she wouldn't do that!"

"Luv," Spike cautioned her, "We're just throwing the 
possibility out there."

"Sorry," she murmured, casting her head down to look at her 
feet.  She thought about all that Buffy had been through 
during the last several days, but no matter what, she always 
came back to the same conclusion.  Her friend would not have 
done this.  Finding strength in her convictions, she turned 
her head back to look at Spike, and spoke again, with 
certainty.  "I know that you're all trying to find something 
that makes sense out of this insanity, but I still don't 
believe it.  Buffy wouldn't, *couldn't* kill any of us.  
Heck, Spike, she hates *you* more than just about anyone, and 
she still hasn't brought herself to kill you."

"Well you *could* sound a little happier about that fact, 
Willow," the blond complained, his face showing a pained 
expression.

"You know how happy I am about that," she whispered into his 
ear, as she snuggled closer to his body.

He grinned down at her, loving the feel of her warm skin 
against his.  "I am too, luv," he whispered back.

"Cough-whipped-cough," came the suspicious sound from in 
front of the fireplace.  Fred grinned slightly before 
reaching forward to swat Angel lightly on the back of his 
head.

"Stop that," she scolded, her frown fading quickly as Angel 
turned and smiled at her.

"So I'm not saying the slayer's off the hook," Spike told 
Willow, "But if it's not her, where does that leave us?"

Willow sighed with frustration, unable to give them an 
answer.  "I just don't know, Spike.  I mean, so far we 
haven't looked at this very logically.  If we were in some 
kind of murder mystery, we'd be checking motives and alibis 
and stuff, but that really doesn't apply here."

"Besides," the younger vampire added, "as far as Anya's death 
is concerned, we all have alibis.  You and I were in here the 
whole time, and Angel and Fred were in the kitchen."  He 
looked down at her small upturned face and added somberly, 
"That only leaves, well, Buffy."

Angel seemed inclined to let Spike's misconception go, but 
Fred cleared her throat uneasily, and gave the pair on the 
couch an anxious look.  "Actually, that's not quite true," 
she stated quietly, shooting a glance at Angel's back. 

Glancing back at Spike and Willow, the young brunette 
answered their questioning glances.  "There was an incident 
in the kitchen, and Angel had to go, and, um, take a shower."

"An incident?" Spike asked cynically, casting curious looks 
at the pair in front of the fireplace.  "What kind of 
incident, exactly, would require a shower afterwards?"

Fred's lips quirked into a slight smile as she remembered the 
look on Angel's pasta-covered face.  "Well, there was 
spaghetti, and, um, it was everywhere," she told them, 
refusing to give out too many details to her curious 
audience.  "So I told him to go upstairs and take a shower, 
and I'd take care of everything here."

"So you don't have an alibi, sire.  Interesting development, 
that.  And this whole set-up just *smacks* of Angelus," Spike 
smirked as he needled the older vampire, waiting for the 
response that he was sure was coming.  Angel was always so 
bloody predictable.

Except for today, apparently.  Angel merely continued to look 
forward, staring into the fire and pointedly ignoring his 
childe's taunting tone.  After a few moments of silence, he 
finally replied, his voice cold and dispassionate.  "This 
would all be a fine game to Angelus.  Killing off the humans 
one by one, feeding on their fear and uncertainty.  But I'm 
not Angelus, and you're damned lucky that I'm not.  *He* 
would have started the killings with your new friend there," 
he added, his tone making it obvious that he was referring to 
Willow.

"No offense intended," he said softly, turning to look at 
Willow with apologetic brown eyes.  "It's just that Angelus 
would have seen Spike's weak spot, and gone in for the kill 
immediately.  More of an instinct than anything, I suppose."

Willow nodded her understanding, although she was still a 
little uneasy about the turn the discussion had taken.

"What else would he do?" Fred demanded quietly, determined to 
know the worst that the dark vampire could do.

Angel was quiet again, choosing his words.  "Fred, well, 
you'd be awfully pale," he finally said, unable to tell her 
straight up that she would be a vampire. 

"I'd be pale?  Why would I--oh!" she said, falling silent as 
the true meaning of his words struck her.

"I think it's time I got Willow to bed," Spike said, 
interrupting the conversation.   He suspected that Angel and 
Fred would probably like some time alone, and he knew he'd 
like some time alone with his redhead.  It had been far too 
long since he had kissed her.

"Goodnight Fred, Angel," Willow called, as Spike practically 
dragged her from the room.  

"That conversation looked like a train wreck waiting to 
happen," Spike commented, as they walked up the stairs.  
"Personally, I don't see any way that a conversation that 
begins with a guy telling his girl that he'd like to kill her 
could possibly end well."

"But she isn't his girl," Willow reminded him.

"Maybe not, but if there wasn't a curse involved, she would 
be," he explained.

"You say that like she has no choice in the matter," she 
commented, a little uncomfortable with Spike's assumption 
that Fred would fall into Angel's plans without any choice or 
opinions of her own.

"We vampires can be pretty persuasive when we want to be," he 
told her, giving her a smirk.  She still seemed a little 
uneasy, and the reason hit him as they approached her door.

"You're afraid that I'll go all caveman on you, aren't you?  
Be jealous, and not let you live your own life, stuff like 
that?"

She nodded slightly, unable to look him in the eye.  All the 
talk about Angelus had reminded her that underneath it all, 
Spike was also a vampire.  Just how much *would* that fact 
affect their relationship?

"Willow," he commanded, "Look at me."  When she refused to 
look up, he took her chin and lifted it gently, looking down 
into her luminous green eyes.  "I'm not going to be like 
Angelus.  I was *never* like Angelus, not even on my worst 
day.  Sure, I've done some things in my past that I know you 
wouldn't like, or approve of.  I can't deny that.  But my 
life has changed in a lot of ways in the last couple of 
years, and *I've* changed as well.  And not just because of 
this bloody chip, either."

She smiled then, and Spike felt as if a huge weight had been 
lifted.  She knew what he'd done, and she accepted it.  
Accepted who he had been, and who he was now, and knew that 
there was a difference.

"C'mon, luv, let's get you to bed," he said softly, opening 
the door to her bedroom, and looking appraisingly at the 
large bed there.  

"Spike, will you stay here with me tonight?" she asked, a 
little hesitant.  She didn't want him to think she was silly, 
but she was scared, and the only thing lately that had helped 
her to feel better was to be in the circle of his arms.

He looked surprised, as if this was a matter that had already 
been decided.  In his own mind, it had been.  "Of course I'm 
staying here," he agreed.  "There's no way in hell I'm 
letting you out of my sight until we're off this damn island.  
Okay," he conceded, "that did sound more than a bit like a 
caveman, but you've got to admit that these are extenuating 
circumstances, yes?"

"Yes," she agreed, giving him a sad smile.  "The most 
extenuating."




Angel rose slowly from his position in front of the fire, his 
body graceful and liquid in its movements.  "I guess we need 
to talk," he told Fred, reaching down with his hand to pull 
her up as well.  He led her over to the couch and indicated 
that she sit.  Once she was seated, he joined her, turning to 
face the uncertain young woman.

"You know about the curse, right?" he asked, his unhappy eyes 
tugging at her heart and making her wish that she could 
somehow help him. 

She nodded silently, wondering where he was taking this 
discussion.  Was this about Buffy?  Or his childe?  The 
questions swirled around her always-active mind, as it 
examined and discarded each possibility.

The vampire watched as the expressions flitted across her 
face, wondering what she was thinking about.  Could she 
really not realize how much he cared for her?  

"Well, because of the curse, I've had to stay away from a 
woman who means a lot to me," he continued.  He couldn't look 
up at her face, he decided.  Couldn't bear to see the pity 
and rejection in her beautiful eyes when she understood that 
it was her he was talking about.

"Buffy," she said softly, realizing that he wanted to talk 
about his former love.  It was always about Buffy, she 
thought sadly.  Then she gave herself a mental shake; she was 
his friend.  At least she had that.  If this was what he 
needed to talk about, then she would be there for him to help 
him through it.

His hands moved to her face, his eyes burning into hers, as 
he saw her sadness.  "No, silly, not Buffy," he teased, his 
tone light, "You, Fred.  I love you."

"You--no, I mean, you're joking, right?  You and Buffy--"

"Buffy and I are in the past.  I'm not sure when I started to 
care for you Fred.  It just kind of happened, and one day I 
realized it and accepted it.  But because of the curse--" he 
trailed off uncertainly.

"Because of the curse, you've never been able to say it," she 
replied, understanding now, finally, how he felt.  He loved 
her, but would never be able to be with her.

"It would have been too selfish," he said sadly, grateful 
that she understood.

"The hell it would have!" she disagreed, a surprising bit of 
anger building in her voice.  "Just because you can't be with 
me physically, doesn't mean that you couldn't tell me!" 

"What would the point have been?  What could I have said?  Hi 
honey, I love you, but there's this curse, so we can never be 
together.  Sorry about that.  But hey, don't feel any 
obligation towards me, okay?  Go on and live a normal life, 
just like you would have anyway."

"Well at least you could have said *something*, let me know 
how you felt, how you FEEL about me.  I deserve to know!"

"I'm sorry, Fred, I thought I was doing what was best for 
both of us by keeping quiet," the somewhat flabbergasted 
vampire replied.  "I didn't want you to feel obligated to 
me," he confessed quietly.

"But I *do* feel obligated," she told him, her anger quieting 
and her compassion kicking in.  She grabbed his cool hands in 
her own, looking into his eyes.  "You're my friend, and no 
matter what else is between us, I feel obligated to make sure 
you're happy.  Especially if the same thing that would make 
you happy would make me happy too."  She looked away for a 
minute, mentally re-running her last sentence through her 
head.  "Did that make sense?" she wondered.

Angel couldn't help it.  He just had to laugh.  The sound was 
large and booming in the quiet room, but hearing it made Fred 
laugh too.  "I don't know if it made sense or not, but I 
understood it," he told her, unable to resist pressing a soft 
kiss to her lips, before he pulled away.

"Come on, I'd better get you to bed.  Something tells me that 
tomorrow is going to be a busy day."


  

Willow slept in the arms of her love, feeling safe and 
content.  He had promised to stay with her all night, just in 
case.  Just in case *what* was never discussed, but was 
simply understood.

They had not made love that night, although they were both 
more than willing.  But Spike insisted that they would have 
all of eternity to remember their 'first time', and he would 
not waste it on a night when they were both tired and she was 
frightened.  So they had slept together, fully clothed, but 
their bodies entwined just as intimately as if they were 
lovers.  

And when Willow awoke in the early hours of the morning, 
fresh from dreams of Giles, Xander, Anya, and happier times 
together, he held her while she cried, his gentle hands 
caressing her soft skin until she drifted off to sleep again.


  

Spike was the first to wake, his senses finely attuned to the 
creaks and cracks of the old mansion they currently 
inhabited.  He sensed his sire standing before the door even 
before he heard his soft knock, and rose quietly to his feet, 
being careful not to disturb the sleeping redhead next to 
him.

He opened the door a crack, slipping out through the space 
and into the hall.  The only word to describe the look on 
Angel's face was 'devastated.'  The amount of pain and 
anguish in his soft brown eyes was startling.  Spike had seen 
his sire go through a lot, especially once he received his 
soul, but he had never seen the older vampire this 
distraught.

"I take it your talk with Fred didn't go well last night?" he 
asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.  "Did 
she give you that 'we can always be friends' crap?"

Instead of the flash of anger that the younger vampire 
expected to see in his sire's eyes, there was instead a flash 
of even deeper pain.  Without saying a word, Angel led him to 
the door of Fred's room and motioned for Spike to open it.  

He opened the door slowly, not sure exactly what type of game 
his elder was playing.  What he saw within stunned him 
silent, unable to put together even the simplest thought.  

Fred lay on the bed, her eyes open, but her body still and 
stiff.  Spike could tell without even looking closer that she 
was dead.  Had been for several hours, he'd wager.  

Suddenly all the rather nasty things he'd said to Angel 
seemed pointless and rather cruel.  Regardless of his souled 
status, the dark vampire had loved this girl, and now she was 
dead.  "I'm sorry," he said quietly, wishing he knew the 
words that would make things better.

"WILLOW!" he started, running back to her room, needing to 
make sure that she was still there; still safe.

"Spike?" he heard her quiet, sleepy voice coming from the 
other room, and looked over in relief to see the redhead, her 
hair still tousled, as she wandered groggily into the hall.  
"What's with the noise?"

She looked at the two vampires curiously, wondering what the 
big attraction was with Fred's bedroom.  Suddenly a somber 
thought occurred to her, and she took a step towards them.  
"Spike?" she asked uncertainly.

He knew what she was asking.  But he just couldn't--wouldn't-
-let her see the body.  "Sorry, luv," he ssaid quietly, 
approaching her and folding her into his arms.  "Fred's 
gone."

He pulled back and watched as tears ran freely from her eyes.  
She hadn't known the young woman for all that long, but she 
had seen her as a kindred spirit of sorts.  They were both 
smart, shy, and knew what kind of things went bump in the 
night.  Plus, after last night, she suspected that they were 
both in love with vampires.  

And now she was gone.

Willow's eyes moved to Angel, who was watching the two of 
them silently.  His face was blank but his eyes burned with 
the depth of his sadness.  She didn't know what to say to 
make him feel better, and that knowledge made her feel even 
sadder.

In the end, she realized that all she could do was be there, 
and be his friend.  She disentangled herself from Spike and 
approached Angel, enveloping him in a warm hug as she felt 
him shudder beneath her touch.  "I'm so sorry, Angel.  I--I'm 
just so sorry."  She didn't know what else to say, what else 
she could do to make him feel better.

"Thanks Willow," he mumbled into her hair, as he gave her a 
soft kiss on her forehead.  "I told her everything last 
night," he said, the words falling unwillingly from his lips.  
"Told her that I loved her," he whispered.

"Angel--" she said sadly, totally at a loss as to how to make 
him feel better.

"It's okay, Willow.  I'll live," he added.  His lips twisted 
up at the oddity of his choice of words, but there was no 
mirth in his smile.

"From now on, we stay together," Spike told them, his voice 
angry and determined.  "I don't know how she's doing this, 
but it stops now."  

"She?" Willow asked uncertainly, pulling away from Angel to 
look at Spike.  "You think Buffy did this?"

"Well, the timing certainly seems suggestive.  Angel and Fred 
confess their feelings to each other, and the next morning 
Fred is dead.  And Buffy, Angel's ex, is nowhere to be 
found."

"Willow," this time the voice came from Angel.  "I know you 
don't want to think that she is capable of this, but it does 
seem rather--odd.  I mean, look at how badly she reacted you 
and Spike being together.  Then she finds out about Fred and 
I?  I think you need to start considering the possibility 
that she is behind this."

"And that maybe she won't stop here," Spike said softly, 
regaining her attention.  He held out a hand to her, and she 
grabbed it as if it were a lifeline.  "If she was that upset 
about Angel and Fred, she might decide that I'm a threat, or 
that Angel should go."

"I--I'll think about it," the redhead said uncertainly.  So 
many terrible things had happened so quickly, and her ideas 
of what was real and possible, and what wasn't, were becoming 
uncertain.  The lines between what she knew was true and what 
she was afraid might be true were becoming blurry.  That 
scared her almost as much as the thought of her own possible 
death.



Another night, and another graveside memorial.  Spike and 
Willow watched as Angel tried to hold himself together long 
enough to say a few final words to Fred.  The redhead's mind 
started to wander, as she looked at each of the neat graves.  
There was Giles, and over there was Xander, and Anya was next 
to him.  She thought of them as old familiar friends, even 
though they were little more than piles of dirt.  'I wonder 
where they'll bury me?' she thought idly, in that moment 
accepting the fact that she would probably die here, on this 
lonely island.

"What is it, luv?" Spike whispered questioningly, as they 
watched Angel make his solitary way back to the mansion.  

"Over there," she whispered back, pointing to an old wizened 
tree, not far from the other graves, but far enough for some 
privacy.

His sharp eyes followed her pointing finger, not sure exactly 
what he was looking for.  "Over there what?" 

"That's where I want to be buried," she whispered back, as if 
it was the most natural request in the world.

"Don't talk like that," he snapped, scared for her, but not 
sure what he could do to comfort her.  She seemed so calm and 
accepting of her impending death, but he suspected that for 
her it was just another way of reacting to the situation they 
found themselves in.  "You're going to live a right long time 
yet."

She held his arm as they moved quickly to keep Angel in 
sight.  They knew that he would probably enjoy some time to 
himself, to grieve in his own way, but they didn't want him 
to be alone, not with a killer on the lose.  How funny was 
that?  All the times that Xander had called him a killer, 
Spike too, for that matter, and now they feared for their 
lives, haunted by a killer that nobody seemed to see.  




Angel sat in front of the fire in full brood mode.  Another 
woman, another love, ripped away from him.  And this time he 
couldn't even blame the gypsies or the curse.  He would never 
again be able to see her shy smile, or hear her voice call 
out to him happily.  He would never be able to feel the 
warmth of her breath on his lips, or lose his fingers in her 
long, soft, cascading hair.

He would never--

"Here Angel, I brought you something to eat."  Willow 
interrupted his thoughts with a warm cup of blood, waving it 
enticingly in front of his nose in an attempt to gain his 
attention.

"Thanks, Willow," he said, accepting her gift gratefully.  
"Sorry, I was just--"

"Brooding," she agreed solemnly.  "You're entitled, Angel.  
Something terrible happened to you today."

Willow sat beside him, the two of them staring companionably 
into the crackling fire.  Spike left his perch on the couch, 
coming to settle himself on the other side of the young 
woman.

"She must hate me," he murmured sadly, dipping his head to 
swallow a mouthful of blood.  

"Fred?  Why would she hate you?" Willow asked, confused.

"He's talking about Buffy, luv," Spike whispered into her 
ear.

"You still think Buffy--"

"Isn't it pretty obvious," Spike asked, surprised that Willow 
would still insist on the slayer's innocence.

"But--"

"No buts about it, Willow," Angel replied harshly.  "Buffy's 
the only one who could have done this.  The *only* one.  You 
need to grow up and get over this hero worship thing you've 
got going, and face the facts.  Because I'm willing to bet 
that she's going to come after you next."

The elder vampire looked at the miserable redhead huddled 
against his childe and immediately regretted his strong 
words.  "I'm sorry, Willow," he said quietly, giving her 
shoulder what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.  "I just 
worry about you.  Both of you," he added, admitting that he 
was worried for Spike as well.

The blond gave him an understanding look and a nod, 
acknowledging without words that they were family, and that 
that bond was far stronger than whatever minor grievances 
they might have had against each other in the past.

They sat there for a while, all three of them succumbing to 
the hypnotic movement of the flames before them.  Each of 
them contemplated their pasts, and the events that had 
brought them to where they were today.

Eventually Willow tired of the introspection.  Thinking too 
hard about their current situation made her sad.  Things just 
looked so hopeless right now, and thinking about it logically 
didn't seem to make things better.  Looking for a little 
distraction, she turned to Angel and asked, "Tell me a 
story?"

He frowned, hesitant to give up his brooding so soon.  
Somehow he felt like the memory of Fred deserved more.  But 
Willow needed him too now, as did Spike, so he put his dark 
thoughts away for the moment, and concentrated on her 
request.

"What type of a story?"

"Something about Spike," she said with a smile, giving the 
blond a teasing look.  He turned and growled softly at her, 
but his heart wasn't really in it.  Willow merely smiled 
again and kissed him softly on his cheek, and then turned 
back to Angel with an expectant look on her face.

Angel thought quickly, trying to think of a tale that would 
entertain the young woman before him, without majorly ticking 
off the vampire beside her.  "Well now, there was the one 
time in Switzerland--" he began quietly, shooting a teasing 
glance at his childe.  Spike had his eyes closed, his head 
resting peacefully on the redhead's shoulder.  Angel knew 
that Spike was still listening, but was trying not to seem 
too interested in the tale that the older vampire was 
telling..  


"So that's where your love of hot chocolate comes from," she 
teased Spike, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.  

"Hey now, you weren't supposed to tell her that part," Spike 
complained.

"I didn't hear you complaining any earlier when I was telling 
her about when you took on that entire Swiss village with 
only a toothpick and a chicken bone.  If you want her to hear 
about Switzerland, she has to hear the good parts *and* the 
bad."

"But that bit about the hot chocolate makes me sound like 
such a ponce," he whined.

"And all of this whining makes you seem so macho," his sire 
commented, a slight smile on his lips.

Willow watched the two master vampires, smiling at their 
lighthearted banter.  She must be a terrible person, she 
thought, to be so happy right now, at this very moment, when 
everything else was so screwed up.  And yet she was happy.  
For just a little while, she had been able to push away all 
the ugliness and the deaths and the terror, and just enjoy 
the moment.  The feel of Spike's arm around her shoulder, the 
twinkle in Angel's eyes as he teased the blond, and the roar 
of the fire before her, all combined to create a feeling of 
contentment and happiness.  And sleepiness, she realized, as 
she tried to stifle a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Why don't we get you up to bed, luv," Spike asked, watching 
as the redhead struggled to stay awake.

'Because I don't want to be up there alone,' she thought.  
But she kept that niggling fear to herself.  She had to be 
brave.  She couldn't crack, couldn't let him down.

"Or you could just curl up over there on the couch," Angel 
added.

"You guys will stay here?"

"We'll protect you, my fair maiden," Spike said theatrically, 
standing up and brandishing an imaginary sword in an attempt 
to protect her honor.

Willow snickered slightly, but she gave the blond a brilliant 
smile.  "Why thank you, kind sir," she replied, getting to 
her feet, only to drop down into a low curtsy.  He grabbed 
the hand she held before him and kissed it gently, their eyes 
meeting over her hand.  Suddenly it felt like they were alone 
in the room; they had eyes only for each other.

Angel cleared his throat, reminding the couple before him 
that he *was* still in the room.

"Sweet dreams, Red," Spike said, "And don't worry, you've got 
two strong vampires here to watch over you tonight.  Nothing 
is going to happen to you, I promise."

Willow believed him.  He would do whatever needed to be done 
to be sure that she was safe.  With that thought in mind, she 
got comfortable on the couch and was soon fast asleep.  The 
sound of her soft, regular breathing convinced the vampires 
that she was no longer able to hear them, and so they began 
to quietly discuss the situation they found themselves in.

"Poor girl," Spike muttered under his breath, his eyes 
resting affectionately on the redhead for a moment, before 
turning to look at the other vampire.  

"We'll take care of her, Spike.  We'll make it through this.  
You'll keep her safe until Cordy and Gunn figure out that 
something is wrong and come to get us." 

"Why haven't they figured it out already?" the agitated blond 
asked. 

"I don't know," Angel confessed unhappily.  "I expected that 
someone would have tried to contact us after three or four 
days. Maybe they're fighting something big down there and 
just haven't had a chance yet.  Stuck out here, in the middle 
of nowhere, we have no idea what's going on in the rest of 
the world."

Spike pondered that for a moment.  "And what about when they 
do get here?  What do we do about the slayer?  Do we try to 
catch her, bring her to justice?"

Now it was Angel's turn to ponder.  "I don't know what to do 
about her.  And poor Willow, she's so devastated by this 
whole thing.  What would it do to her if she had to watch her 
best friend go to jail for murder?"

"What really concerns me is that she still believes there's a 
chance that the slayer might be innocent.  If Buffy showed up 
here right now, Willow would probably believe whatever cock 
and bull story she was told.  We don't dare leave her alone; 
who knows what the slayer would do if she found her."

"We just won't leave her alone," Angel insisted.  "None of us 
will be alone.  There's just no telling how she might catch 
us by surprise, and then--"

"And then there would just be two," Spike finished solemnly.




Willow awoke with a ticklish nose.  She batted her hand 
lazily towards whatever was causing the sensation, but 
nothing was there.  Slowly she opened her eyes and met the 
crystal blue eyes staring into her from less than two inches 
in front of her.  

"Morning," the smiling vampire greeted her.

"Morning," she mumbled, still trying to find her bearings.  
"Wow, I must've been really tired," she added, "Because I was 
out like a light.  Didn't wake up even once."

"Yeah, you were quiet all night.  Well, except for the 
snoring," he teased.

"I do not snore!!!" she yelped.  "Do I?" she added 
uncertainly.

"Hell yes," the blond confirmed, laughing slightly.  "It was 
damn cute, though.  Sort of a cross between a 'snort' and a 
'hiccup.'"

She buried her head into the pillows, trying to ignore the 
laughing vampire.  Finally his laughter subsided, and she 
peeked her head out and snuck a look at him.  Seeing his 
chance, Spike leaned in for a kiss.  

"Ewww, no, you can't kiss me now!  Morning breath.  *So* not 
good," she babbled, getting up and pushing the bewildered 
vampire away.  

"What the bloody hell!" he cursed, eyeing the redhead 
doubtfully.  

"Quiet boy!" came a muttered command from the other couch.  
Willow looked over to see Angel laying there, several pillows 
held over his ears to block out their banter.

"Wow," Willow said quietly, looking between the two vampires.

"What?" Spike growled, throwing an annoyed glance at his 
sire.

She thought for a moment longer, and then shook her head 
ruefully as she walked over to face Spike.  "It's just that I 
think about you having been around for so many, many years, 
you know?  You've seen so much, and lived through so much 
history, that sometimes it just amazes me.  But then, when 
Angel called you that--well, it just made me realize that 
he's even older than you are, and has seen even more.  And 
then, if you go back further, there must be vampires that 
were around even longer than that, who saw-"

"I get it, luv," Spike answered gently, taking advantage of 
her distraction to place a kiss on her lips.  Realizing she 
had been caught, Willow gave in and returned the kiss 
enthusiastically.

"Yummm, morning breath," the blond grinned, ducking quickly 
when Willow reached down for a pillow and threw it at him.  
He grabbed one of Angel's pillows and chucked it back at the 
hiding girl, hitting her full on in the face.

"I'll get you for that!" she threatened, laughing gleefully 
as she grabbed a pillow in each hand and advanced on him 
quickly.  Spike quickly moved next to Angel, daring her to 
risk the wrath of the older vampire if she were to miss him.

Things had suddenly gotten way too quiet, Angel realized.  He 
cocked open an eye, looking up to see Willow poised to attack 
his childe, who seemed to be using him as some sort of a 
shield.  "Spike," he growled, the sound sending shivers down 
Willow's spine.

"Sorry, Angel," she apologized sincerely.  "We were just 
playing, and, um, I guess we got a little carried away."

"I don't blame *you*," the dark vampire said, giving Willow a 
forgiving look.  "I blame him," he added, pointing at Spike.  
"It must be your mission in life to be an eternal pain in my 
ass," he groused.

"You love it.  You've always loved it," Spike accused, and 
Angel acknowledged the truth of it with a nod of his head.  

"Aye, it's true, I admit it."

"Well, now that we've got that all settled, I need some 
breakfast," Spike announced.  "Time to wakey-wakey, Angel."

"Huh?"

"Remember," Spike said slowly, as if explaining the situation 
to a small child, "We are all three joined at the hip until 
we're rescued.  If I want to go and get some breakfast, you 
have to come too."

"And what if I don't want any bloody breakfast?" Angel 
groused, a part of him still hoping to get some additional 
sleep.  

He and Spike had talked late into the night, trying to come 
up with a plan to get them rescued.  They had discussed a 
bonfire or some sort of fire that would be seen on the 
mainland, but the rain and wind that kept pelting the island 
made that idea unlikely to work.  

The next idea they had discussed was building a raft of some 
sort from any spare wood they could find, but that idea also 
had its drawbacks.  For one thing, the raft would have to be 
large enough and stable enough to hold all three of them, 
since there was no way that only some of them could go.  In 
addition, they would have to wait for calmer waters, since 
the waves seemed awfully choppy and violent, thanks to the 
weather they were experiencing right now.  And lastly, the 
vampires just had no idea how far away land was, and how they 
would force the raft to head in that direction.  The currents 
in the area might even conceivably take them out to sea, and 
then what would they do?  

The last possibility they came up with was equally fraught 
with trouble:  one of the vampires would attempt to swim back 
to the mainland, or to another inhabited island.  Since 
vampires don't breathe, drowning would not likely be a 
problem.  However, the icy cold of the water might bring on 
hypothermia, which was another matter altogether.  Neither of 
them had ever heard of a vampire who had suffered from 
hypothermia, but then again, how many vampires had ever swam 
long distances in frigid waters?

In the end, all the time spent in discussion was for naught, 
because they could not find any idea that was sure to work 
safely.  All they could do was sit and wait.





"I'm bored," Spike whined, stretching out on the couch and 
flipping playing cards idly into the air.  

The three housemates had had a leisurely breakfast, cleaned 
up, played cards, read, had a light lunch, and once night had 
come they took a quick walk around the island.  There was no 
sign of any activity or, even better, an approaching boat, 
and all they got for their troubles was cold, wet and 
uncomfortable.  

"So find something to do," the elder vampire growled, "I was 
*not* put on this earth to entertain you." 

Having to be in close proximity for hours at a time was 
putting a strain on all of them.  Angel and Spike had almost 
come to blows on several occasions now, and only Willow's 
diplomatic skills had kept them from attempting to wreak 
havoc on each other.  But at this point, the redhead was just 
about ready to let them go at it.  She was tired of playing 
the peacemaker, damn it, and if they couldn't get along, then 
maybe she would just let them beat the crap out of each 
other.  At least *she* would be entertained then.

Willow sighed, rather audibly, and the two vampires turned to 
look at her.  "Sorry, Willow," they both said contritely, and 
Spike came to perch next to her on the couch.  "It's just 
that it's driving me nuts, waiting for the other shoe to 
drop, you know?"

"I know," the redhead told him, running a comforting hand 
through the blond's hair.  He laid his head on her shoulder, 
enjoying the feel of her soft hands.  Her actions seemed to 
calm him, and soon a deep rumbling could be heard coming from 
his chest.

"Whipped," Angel whispered with a grin, but unlike the last 
time he said it, this time it was said with a wealth of 
sadness and regret.

Willow thought about Fred, wishing that she could do 
something for the elder vampire to ease his suffering.  She 
patted a spot on the sofa next to her, and Angel came and sat 
down beside her.  Gently she placed his head on her other 
shoulder, and made the same comforting motions for Angel as 
she made for Spike.  It took a while, but eventually the dark 
vampire was making the same contented rumbling noise that 
Spike was.  

'Look at me, I'm Willow the Vampire Tamer,' she thought.  
Maybe Buffy had been going about it wrong all this time.  The 
key wasn't to slay them, just to tame them.  She smiled at 
the thought of her friend trying to comfort minions, and then 
shook her head at her own silliness.  Still, a nice, 
comforting, relaxing feeling had enveloped the three of them, 
and Willow was reluctant to break the spell that seemed to 
have been weaved over them.  Finally tired enough to sleep, 
she leaned her head back onto Spike, and soon was fast 
asleep.



It was dark when Spike woke, the fire having burned down to 
nothing but glowing embers.  He swore softly when he realized 
that his sire was no longer with them.  'Damned poof, just 
like him to wander off when he was needed,' the blond 
thought, the rather dark history between them rearing its 
ugly head.  He hoped the bastard was just in the kitchen, 
preparing some blood for them, or perhaps some toast for 
Willow, but the other room was silent, and he couldn't sense 
the other vampire anywhere nearby.

"Fuck," he said softly, suddenly uneasy.

"Spike?" Willow murmured, beginning to stir.  Her hair was 
tousled, and her face still peaceful.  He hated to disturb 
her, but knew that he must.

"Bloody poof's gone and wandered off, luv.  I think we'd 
better go find him."

Willow was instantly awake, her eyes wide and worried.  "You 
don't think he could be in trouble, do you?"

"Can't say," he admitted, hoping that Angel wasn't.  "But 
it's the middle of the night, and he's nowhere to be seen.  
Something just doesn't feel right.  He wouldn't just take a 
stroll, you know?"

"Yeah," Willow agreed, standing up and stretching in an 
attempt to rouse both her body and her mind. "Where should we 
start?"

"Guess out front is best.  I should be able to sense him 
better once we're a little closer."  The one thing that had 
kept the blond from panicking so far was the knowledge that 
he *could* still feel his sire out there, somewhere.  He 
couldn't quite sense where he was, but he was definitely out 
there, and not in any immediate danger.  Or at least not any 
danger that he was aware of.  He felt no panic or fear from 
the dark vampire.

They headed outside into the darkness, the shrill wind once 
again biting into Willow's body, the thin clothes she had on 
not helping her much.  Spike slung an arm around her, 
attempting to shield her with his body, and picked an 
arbitrary direction.  They began to walk quickly, calling for 
Angel as they went.

"Spike?" The blond vampire heard Angel's voice first, but 
soon Willow could hear it as well.  It was coming from in 
front of them, from not too far away.  They followed his 
voice, and before long they could see him, coming down the 
path towards them, a grim look on his face.  

"Bad news," Angel said, frowning heavily.

And then he came to an abrupt stop, and a stunned look 
crossed his face.  For there, suddenly, in the middle of his 
chest, piercing his unbeating heart, was an arrow.  

All that Willow and Spike could do was watch with horror as 
her friend, and his sire, turned to dust before their very 
eyes.

"Angel," Willow screamed, racing towards the rapidly 
dissipating dust that had been her friend.  Her eyes were 
wide with shock, her body trembling with suppressed fear and 
pain.

"Willow!" Spike yelled, terrified that there was still 
someone out there who meant them harm.  There were thick, 
tall bushes on either side of the path, and no way of knowing 
where the killer was hiding.  He grabbed the panicking woman 
by the arm, pulling her back sharply against his hard chest.  
The chip in his head gave him a jagged twinge of pain; he 
must have hurt Willow when he pulled her.  He ignored the 
pain, knowing that he had to get her out of there.

His eyes were trained on the site of his sire's death, 
watching the dust fly off on the bitter wind, but he managed 
to drag Willow back towards the house.  They quickly tumbled 
in the front door and closed it fast, then fell down together 
against the back of it, holding each other tight and crying 
with abandon.

They sat there like that for what seemed like hours.  
Eventually Spike pulled Willow into his lap, holding her 
while she cried, and kissing away as many of the tears as he 
could.  At the same time, blood-tinged tears soaked the front 
of his shirt, turning the white cotton undershirt to a light 
red. 

"Spike," Willow whispered, "I'm so scared."

"I know, Willow, I know," he whispered back, "I am too," he 
finally admitted quietly.

And it was true, too.  Angel had seemed invincible to him.  
His sire, his teacher, and later his enemy.  And now, just 
recently, he had become a tentative friend again.  But no 
matter what their relationship had been, Angel had always 
been stronger, smarter, and faster than Spike.  Now he was 
gone, killed before their stunned eyes by an unseen hand.  
And if Angel couldn't make it through this, then Spike knew 
that there was little chance that he could.  And if he 
couldn't, then Willow had absolutely no chance at all.

They huddled together, stunned and shell-shocked, waiting for 
whatever would happen next.  




A loud noise from outside brought them both out of their 
reveries.  "What the hell-" Spike snarled, coming quickly to 
his feet, his demon face coming to the fore.  He pulled 
Willow to her feet as well, wincing as he heard her soft moan 
of fear.

"What was that?" she asked, her small hands clutching his arm 
tightly, nervous fingers pressing so hard that they drew 
blood. Spike didn't seem to notice.

"Maybe it's Buffy, finally making an appearance?" the blond 
wondered, still certain that the slayer had something to do 
with the killings.  As far as he was concerned, Angel's death 
had just confirmed his suspicions.  The arrow that had 
pierced his sire's heart came from a crossbow, and who else 
would have had one, and known how to use it?

His earlier fears began to dissipate, and Spike felt the 
beginnings of rage stirring deep inside him.  They had been 
trapped like rats, and then slowly destroyed, one by one. In 
the beginning it hadn't been so bad, but now the killer had 
messed with his family.  His sire was gone forever, and his 
Willow was threatened as well.  She was nearly petrified with 
terror, and he knew that she couldn't live like this much 
longer.

He had a decision to make now, he realized.  They could stay 
here, barely living, jumping at every shadow they saw and 
each noise they heard, until finally their lives came to an 
end.  The alternative?  They could go outside and meet the 
slayer, face her down, and destroy her like she had tried to 
destroy them.  Willow could never do it, he knew, but he was 
more than up for the chance.  His chip might explode, sending 
his head in one direction and his body in the other, but at 
least he would go out like a demon was meant to, doing battle 
against the slayer.

His mind made up, he turned to Willow, holding her face 
gently in his hands.

"Willow?  I've got to go out there and face whatever this 
is."

"No!" she moaned, the sound low and frightened.

"Yes, luv.  I have to do it.  We can't live like this.  I'd 
much rather die quickly, than to die piece-by-piece, 
miserable the whole time.  Can you understand that?"

Willow stared into his deep blue eyes, weighing his words 
carefully.  To die next to him was preferable than living 
without him, so she made the only decision she could.  "I'll 
go with you," she said quietly, agreeing to die by his side, 
if that was what the fates had in store for them.

Spike kissed her desperately, his mouth ravaging hers.  If 
this were to be the last kiss they would share, he would make 
it a good one.  He poured all of emotions into it:  his love 
for her, his devotion, tenderness and passion.  Soon Willow 
was clinging to him shamelessly, tears slipping from her eyes 
once again.  She knew, just as he did, that this could very 
well be good-bye.

"I do love you," he whispered quietly to her, finally pulling 
back and resting his forehead gently against hers.

"And I you," she answered, a tremor in her voice.  Then she 
straightened up and faced him bravely, a pale reflection of 
the cheerful, peppy Willow that he remembered from what 
seemed like years ago.  Had it really only been a week?

"Let's go."





Willow and Spike walked hand-in-hand down the path to the 
beach.  Spike had decided that since that was where they had 
seen Angel earlier, this was the direction they should head.  
The dark vampire's last words about 'bad news' echoed in 
Spike's mind, and he wondered now what Angel had been about 
to tell them. 

As they made their way slowly down the path to the beach, 
Willow felt a strange sensation pass through her, almost as 
if someone were watching them from high up in the mansion.  
She looked back quickly, as if hoping to catch someone in the 
act, but everything looked the same as it had been when they 
left.  Seeing no sign of anything out of the ordinary, she 
shook her head at her fanciful notion, certain that it was 
exactly that and nothing else: a flight of fancy.  

Spike cast his eyes about cautiously, looking for something, 
anything that might be out of place.  He stopped suddenly, 
sniffing the air tentatively and then recoiling at the scent 
that invaded his senses.  There was a sudden shift of wind 
direction and then Willow could smell it too.  It was 
sickeningly sweet, almost nauseating.  

"What is it?" she whispered.  "What could make that kind of 
smell?"

The blond vampire was fairly sure he knew exactly what was 
making that smell, but he didn--t want Willow to know.  To 
his more acute nose, it smelled exactly like a dead body that 
had been left out in the elements for too long.  

"Back to the mansion, now," he insisted, turning and trying 
to grab her before she could see what he was sure was out 
there.

Willow wanted nothing to do with the mansion.  Without a 
word, she dashed down the rest of the steps to the rocky 
beach below.  Her eyes squinted slightly in the darkness, but 
suddenly the moon moved out from behind a cloud, and the 
silvery light showed her all she needed to see.  

Because there, lying broken and battered amongst the rocks, 
was Buffy.  Or rather, what used to be Buffy.  

She had obviously been there for a while; scratches and 
bruises on her body stood out in stark relief against her 
pale, pale skin.  Her light blond hair was wet and plastered 
to her face, and her mouth was open in a silent scream of 
terror.  Unlike the others, who had looked like they had been 
taken by surprise, Buffy had seen her attacker coming, and 
had tried to fight him off.  Unfortunately, she had failed.

Her attacker.  

Spike and Angel had asserted unequivocally that Buffy was the 
one behind the killings.  They had insisted time and again 
that the island was empty of others, creatures or humans, and 
that the killer could only be her.  

And now Buffy was dead.  Had been for a while.  And so was 
everyone else.  

Except Spike.

'Oh god,' she thought, stomach wrenching and heart breaking, 
as she heard him come to a stop behind her.  

Spike looked at Willow as she eyed the body of the slayer, 
lying broken and bruised on the sharp rocks.  The slayer.  So 
Willow was right, the slayer had nothing to do with this.  
Had been gone for a day or two, from the look and smell of 
it.

That only left--Willow.  The one who kept insisting that it 
couldn't be Buffy behind all this.  The one who had been with 
him when Angel was killed.  How could she have managed it?

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind.  She must 
have figured out a way to do it, because it was either him or 
her, and he knew it wasn't him.  So that left--her.

"You?" Spike asked, giving her a quizzical look.  Not that he 
had anything against murder and mayhem, just the opposite.  
But it just didn't seem right that she was the one behind all 
of this.

"You?" she asked back, legs trembling.  Willow fell to the 
ground, but before Spike could rush forward to help her, she 
was up again, clutching a sharp piece of driftwood in a death 
grip, her knuckles white with tension.  She moved slowly 
towards the vampire in calm, measured steps, her face a mask 
of pain and rage.




>From far above the beach, a single figure sat in a regal 
high-back chair in the dark attic of the mansion and watched 
the drama that played out below from a small window.  "I 
would never have expected it to come to this," Quentin 
Travers murmured in surprise.  Not many things surprised the 
head of the Watchers Council these days, and it was rather a 
special event when it did happen.

He had expected the slayer to be the last one standing.  Or 
perhaps Angel, the so-called 'vampire with a soul.'  But the 
young lovers were the ones who had beaten all the odds.  

Only now, what would happen when it was just down to the two 
of them?  The old-fashioned romantic that hid beneath his 
hard, steely exterior wished that he could stop things now, 
but he couldn't.  He had to know what would happen.

The watcher looked on, keenly curious, as the redhead and the 
blond discovered the slayer's body. 'Damn, I wish I could 
hear what they were saying,' he thought, frustrated.  Still, 
the outcome would be obvious soon enough.  Either dust would 
be flying, or the vampire would be clutching his head in 
agony as he attempted to drain his new girlfriend.  Yes, this 
had definitely brought a dramatic new twist to the plan, he 
thought gleefully.  Never could he have imagined a conclusion 
this spectacular.

Suddenly the young woman was on the ground.  Shock, probably.  
'Too bad for her,' he thought.  The vampire would definitely 
be taking advantage of this opportunity.  But before he 
could, she was up again, and clutching a makeshift stake.  

"Aaah, you're a smart one," he said, nodding approvingly.   

He watched in admiration as she walked towards Spike, the 
driftwood stake raised menacingly before her.  Words were 
exchanged; pleas made by the vampire and refused by the 
other, he supposed.

And then came the moment that he had been waiting for since 
this entire charade had started.  The woman raised the stake 
above her head with shaking hands, and brought it down in a 
sharp motion towards the vampire's chest.

"Fuck!" Travers exclaimed, as the vampire fell to the ground 
and out of his sight.  His viewing angle was all wrong now.  
All he could see was the redhead still standing upright.  
Then she bent down, the stake raised again, and then slashed 
downwards, and a large pile of dust flew away on the wind.

The spectator nodded approvingly, glad that the final act of 
his little drama had now been performed, although 
disappointed that he had been unable to actually see the 
vampire get his just desserts.  Still, he had seen the dust 
flying; there was little doubt in his mind that Willow had 
indeed staked the vampire.

He began to make his way down the various sets of stairs and 
passageways, his ultimate destination the front door.  He was 
eager to meet the young woman who had proven to be such a 
formidable person under the most trying of circumstances. 




Willow walked up the pathway to the mansion, shock setting in 
and making the effort to move her limbs almost impossible.  
She wondered again why they had all been brought here, and 
who had been responsible for the massacre of her closest and 
dearest friends.  Her eyes latched onto the front door of the 
mansion, and she reached out slowly, grabbing the handle in 
her small, shaking hands, and pulling the door open.  

Green eyes focused onto the lone figure in the foyer.  She 
should have been surprised; would have been, under other 
circumstances.  But now, today, all she could muster up was a 
cool numbness that flowed slowly through her veins.  

"Quentin Travers," she murmured, the words sounding eerily 
loud in the empty mansion.  She hadn't quite expected to find 
out the identity of their captor this quickly, but something 
inside her had made her wonder if they would show themselves 
now, now that she was alone.

"Willow Rosenberg," the man replied, giving her a regal nod 
of his head.  "You're a surprise, I'll give you that."

She looked at him, confusion marring her pretty face.  "What 
do you mean?"

"We never expected you to be the last one," he told her.  
"Oh, you're smart, there's no doubt about that.  But when it 
came down to the nitty-gritty, I expected to be having this 
conversation with the slayer.  Or perhaps one of the 
vampires.  But not you."

"It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for," she told 
him, a bitter twist to her lips.  "We're always 
underestimated."  

He walked a little closer to her, circling her, watching her, 
but never getting too close.  He examined her as if she were 
a puzzle he was trying to solve.  "I suppose you'd like some 
answers?" he asked, unnerved by her quiet calm.

She nodded once, her eyes still fixed solely on him.  
"Answers would be nice," she agreed quietly.  

'How odd this seems,' Willow thought.  Just about everyone 
she had ever cared about was dead because of this man, but 
instead of flying at him in a rage, all she could do was talk 
to him in this detached manner.  Maybe this is shock, she 
thought.  This complete numbness and total inability to do 
*anything* at all.  In some ways she hoped it was.  Otherwise 
the pain of her loss would surely drive her to kill this man 
in front of her.

"For starters, why don't you tell me why you arranged all 
this?"  Her voice was louder now, accusatory.  

The older man flinched slightly, reacting to her harsh tone.  
He drew himself up straighter and became arrogant in his 
manner.  "It was a test, of course."

"A test?  Looks like we all failed, huh?" and then she 
laughed, a high-pitched sound devoid of mirth. 
 
"On the contrary, you all passed.  Quite surprising, really.  
I rather suspected that when it came down to you and the 
vampires, that only the vampires would remain."

"We all passed," she repeated, the calmness of her voice 
belied by the fire in her eyes.  "Well it'll be awfully hard 
to give the rest of them a final grade, seeing as how THEY'RE 
ALL DEAD!" she yelled.

She collapsed onto the floor then, her shoulders heaving, her 
sobs echoing off of the walls of the foyer.  Travers eyed her 
uneasily, unsure whether to attempt to calm her, or whether 
he would be better served to back away from her.

"Well now," came a voice from outside, "They're not *all* 
dead, are they, luv?" And with those words, Spike walked 
quickly into the room and pulled the crying redhead up into 
his arms.  "I'm afraid you missed one, you bastard," he said, 
a satisfied smile on his face. 

"But-but-I saw her kill you!"  The red-faced watcher 
sputtered.  He watched the vampire uneasily, his nerves on 
edge, ready to bolt at the smallest movement.

"See, luv," Spike murmured to Willow, "I told you it would be 
all right.  He couldn't tell what was going on, just like we 
hoped." He shot a disgusted look at the watcher, who was 
still eyeing him uneasily.  "Yeah, a little dirt thrown into 
the air at the right moment, and the bleedin' moron had no 
idea what was really going on."

"Bravo, Spike," the words were called down from the second 
floor landing, and Willow and Spike both looked up to see 
Angel standing there, a completely corporeal, not-dusty 
Angel.  He clapped slowly as he looked down at them, respect 
for his childe showing clearly in his expression.  

"But-" Willow and Spike were both stunned.  "We saw you die!" 
Willow finally exclaimed, her mind unable to think of 
anything else to say except a statement of the obvious.  
Spike merely scowled, certain now that they had been pawns in 
one of Angelus' evil schemes.

"And no, Spike, I'm not Angelus.  I'm still Angel." The 
vampire said, reading his childe's look perfectly.  "Just 
like she's still Anya," he added, pointing to the young woman 
who had just appeared next to him from out of thin air, "And 
just like he's still Xander, unfortunately." 

Sure enough, as soon as the words were spoken, Xander popped 
into sight right next to Anya.  

Neither Willow nor Spike could move or speak; they could only 
stare as one by one, each of their friends appeared before 
their amazed and confused eyes.  Xander, Anya, and then 
Giles, looking as tweedy as ever.  Next to appear was Buffy, 
smiling down on the two bewildered individuals, and then 
Fred, who waved and smiled shyly at the twosome.

Willow gasped sharply, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint 
of joy.  They were alive!  All of the sadness and fear that 
had become a part of her daily life was slowly beginning to 
melt away, a little bit at a time.  Her eyes flitted eagerly 
from face to face, as if to reassure herself that they were 
really there, and that they wouldn't disappear if she looked 
away for a moment.

"Now would be a good time to start with the explanations," 
Spike growled, his eyes moving to spear Travers before he 
could step away from them.

"Of course.  I was just getting started when I was," he shot 
a look up at Angel, "So rudely interrupted."

"Yeah, whatever.  Just tell me what the hell has been going 
on here, before I rip your bloody head off, chip or no chip."

Travers gave the blond vampire his harshest look.  "That 
would be ill advised," he muttered.

"Enough with the macho bullshit posturing," Buffy called 
down, "You owe them the truth, at the *very* least.  Give it 
to them quickly, or I might just decide to help Spike."

Travers cast an angry look towards the slayer, then turned 
back to face Willow and Spike.  She was trembling slightly, 
stress and shock finally taking its toll, and Spike was 
holding her close in an attempt to calm her nerves.   But in 
spite of everything, there was a look of hope on her face 
that had been absent for far too long.   

"Very well," Travers said.  "There was some concern-" his 
words were interrupted by an angry snort, coming from the 
vicinity of the petite blonde, but when Travers glared at 
her, Buffy's face was the picture of perfect innocence.

"As I said," he repeated, trying his best to remain unfazed 
by his rather hostile audience, "There was some concern at 
the council over what we considered the slayer's rather 
unorthodox friendships.  Her two vampires friends, in 
particular, seemed to us rather like fraternizing with the 
enemy. "

"I'm not her bloody friend," Spike muttered, but Willow 
shushed him, needing to hear the rest of the story.

"We knew that the direct approach would probably not be to 
our benefit.  Relations between the council and Ms. Summers 
had degenerated into thinly veiled tolerance, if not 
downright hostility.  Through no fault of our own," he added 
quickly. 

"Always such the martyr, Quentin," Giles called out bitterly.  
"We all know why relations were 'strained' as you so 
delicately put it.  And believe me when I tell you that 
*none* of us are going to buy your version of it."

"Very well," the man nodded, a look of annoyance flashing 
across his face, "If I may continue?"

Giles nodded tersely.

"Since we figured the straight-forward approach was likely to 
be unsuccessful, we decided that it would be wise to create a 
little test, to see how things would go 'in the wild', so to 
speak.  What choices you all would make, if push did indeed 
come to shove."

Willow was stunned.  This entire--charade--was put into play 
for the sole purpose of ascertaining whether the vampires 
could be trusted?  "You did this, all of this, just to see if 
you could trust Angel and Spike?"

"Not just those two," Travers assured her.  "Don't forget, 
Miss Rosenberg, your little group of misfits also counts an 
ex-vengeance demon and a budding witch in its ranks.  You 
were all being tested.  Even Buffy was being tested.  We had 
to know that if it came to a choice between one of her 
vampires and one of the humans, that she could be counted 
upon to do the right thing."

"Guess I didn--t cover myself with glory when it all comes 
down to it," Buffy admitted softly.  "I should have stayed 
with the rest of you instead of freaking out and running."

"You were under incredible strain, Buffy," Angel insisted.  
"You did what you thought was best, at the time.  That's all 
that any of us can do."  The dark vampire had obviously 
forgiven her for her earlier accusations against him.  

"How did you-how, I mean, okay, we never actually saw the 
others die.  But Angel, we saw him dusted.  How did you do 
it?" Willow asked, finally beginning to shake off her 
confusion.  No matter how severe the shock, her keen mind 
would never be stilled for long.  She always needed to know 
'why'.

"Probably the same way you tricked me earlier, at least in 
part." Travers admitted.  "I won't give away *all* our 
secrets, but I will tell you that we had a great many wizards 
working for us on this.  There were spells within spells.  
And then there were the dummies."

"Dummies?  You mean like Harris over there?" Spike said with 
a grin, beginning to get into the spirit of things.

"Hey Fangless, you'd better be nice to me now.  I've *got* 
something on you," Xander said with a smirk.  "Deadboy here 
told me about a little unauthorized snooping you did while 
you were 'searching' someone's room. "

Spike lifted an elegant eyebrow at his sire, as if asking how 
Angel could have given aid and comfort to the enemy.  

"Well my boy, I had to find *some* way to spend the time.  
Waiting for you and Willow there to come search for me was 
getting a wee bit boring," he said, giving an exaggerated 
yawn.

"What were you saying about dummies?" Willow asked, 
undeterred by the friendly banter going on around her.

"Well," Travers said, allowing a small bit of pride into his 
voice, "We had dummies created for each of you.  They were 
completely lifelike, down to the temperature and texture of 
the skin.  And no," he added, "I won't tell you how we did 
that."  

"Once they were created," he continued, "The wizards went to 
work on them, making them smell just like their human 
counterpart.  We even had artificial auras built for them, 
and let me tell you, that was *not* easy.  But they had to be 
'real' enough to fool all of your senses."

Willow fell silent, contemplating exactly how much power and 
work must have gone into making their duplicates.  In a way 
it would have been flattering, if it weren't for all the pain 
and unhappiness they had caused.

"So now what happens?" she asked softly.  "You say that we've 
passed your test.  What does that mean?  Do we get to go back 
to our lives, with a pretty gold star stuck to our report 
card?"  

Travers smiled slightly at the redhead, before looking up at 
the others.  "You have proven yourself to be worthy 
champions.  Because of that, we have rewards for you.  Or 
gifts.  How ever you would like to think of them." 



They had gathered in the living room, coupled together on the 
various pieces of furniture.  Willow sat on Spike's lap, the 
redhead staring deeply into his crystal-blue eyes.  He 
twirled a lock of her fiery hair between his deft fingers, 
while his other hand traced patterns on her pale, beautiful 
face.  The spark was beginning to come back into her eyes, he 
noted with relief.  This 'vacation' had been rough on all of 
them, but none had suffered more than she had.  Fortunately 
for them, though, he had the rest of their lives to make her 
feel better.  The very idea of it made him smile, and the 
cold places inside him filled with warmth and happiness. 

On another couch nearby, Angel and Fred talked softly.  The 
knowledge of his feelings was still something new and 
wondrous for Fred, and even as he tried to fight it, Angel 
felt himself drawn to the shy young woman more than ever.   
The voices in his head cautioned him that this would lead to 
nothing but sadness and heartbreak for the two of them, but 
at this moment he just didn't care.  The terrible charade was 
finally over and the woman he loved was sitting next to him.  
And for now, that was enough.

Buffy watched Xander and Anya wistfully, slightly envious of 
their happiness.  She knew that someday she would find the 
one who was meant to be with her.  'Assuming you live long 
enough,' that bitter voice whispered inside her.  For now, 
she would try to be happy for her friends?all of her friends.  
Sometimes it wasn't easy, but her life as the slayer was 
filled with less than simple tasks.  She would make it 
through.

Quentin Travers bustled into the room, looking as self-
important as ever.  He cast a slightly disapproving look at 
the young people around him, and then cleared his throat 
importantly.

"Well, I'll cut right to the chase.  Because the watcher's 
council has deemed you worthy, we are at liberty to provide 
you with some things that might make your life easier.  Ms. 
Summers, the council would like to offer you a paid position.  
You would be our employee, earning a decent salary, and we 
will take care of medical insurance and other benefits, the 
same as we do for our other employees."

He watched curiously as Buffy looked questioningly at Giles.  
Her watcher nodded slightly, giving his approval.

"The only way I would ever consider working for the council 
again is if Giles were to be my watcher," she told him, her 
eyes serious.  "And of course he would have to be fairly 
compensated as well." She smiled as she said the words, proud 
that she was in a strong bargaining position.  The council 
obviously went to a lot of trouble to put this together, and 
if they were as happy with the results as they seemed, then 
she should be asking for anything she could get.  "And I want 
a vacation," she added, realizing that she was on a roll.  
"Two weeks every year.  If you were able to arrange for my 
absence for this?trip, well, you can do it again."  She 
crossed her arms in front of her chest, and gave Travers a 
cool stare.

The little bitch was challenging him, Travers realized.  
However, since he had been willing to give her these things 
already, he merely nodded to her and her watcher calmly, 
assuring them that he would give them what they desired.

He looked at Angel, taking in the dark vampire's 
preoccupation with the brunette next to him.  "And for the 
vampire with a soul," his words were descriptive, even if 
they were overly dramatic, "I have this," he said, tossing an 
amulet to Angel.  "Take it to your watcher, and he will tell 
you what to do with it.  It should secure your soul 
permanently."

He watched Angel's face for a moment, noting with interest 
the effects his words made on the other.  Angel looked at 
Fred and then burst out into an unreserved smile.   'And 
we're doing this just in time, by the look of it,' he thought 
uneasily, not particularly interested in having his slayer go 
another bout with Angelus.  Hopefully they'd get the ritual 
taken care of and secure that thing quickly.   

His glance swept the room again before settling on the other 
vampire.  Spike.  The blond had earned himself a small 
measure of the watcher's respect.  Not only was he brave and 
crafty, but also he and the redhead had managed to beat 
Travers at his own game.  Not many did that, and fewer still 
lived to tell about it.

"Spike, I will make you the same offer as I made your sire:  
a soul, without the happiness clause.  I'm not sure if you 
will want to take it; I'll leave that decision up to you and 
your girl.  If you decide to take me up on the offer, Buffy 
or Giles will know how to get in touch with me.  Now as for 
Willow," he added, giving the young woman a speculative look, 
"I am offering you a scholarship for whatever college you 
wish to attend.  If you would prefer to stay where you are, 
we would be willing to pay for your studies with a wicca, 
someone who would enable you to further your studies in 
magic.  Again, no decision has to be made today.  Merely 
contact me when you are ready, and I will arrange for these 
things to happen."  

Excitement danced in the green eyes as they met his gaze.  He 
would bet good money that she went for the magic training.  
She was a talented one, to be sure.  Smart as well.  Someone 
to keep an eye on in the future?

"For Xander and Anya I have nothing special to offer.  I am 
sorry, children.  But in a way it really is a compliment; it 
means that you already have everything you want and need.  
However, if you are ever in need of our help, please know 
that the council will be happy to do whatever we can."

"Don't worry," Giles told a frowning Anya, "Now that I'm 
going to be a watcher again, I will have to give up my store 
in favor of more official duties.  I would be honored if you 
would accept the Magic Box, with my compliments, and run it 
as you see fit."  The man was gratified to see a grin break 
out onto Anya's face, and he smiled slightly as she squealed 
in excitement and clasped Xander to her tightly.  

"With my compliments means free, right?  I mean, of course it 
does," she added bouncing in her seat.  "Did you hear that, 
Xander?  I'm going to be a real, honest-to-god capitalist.  
With money, and employees, and-and everything!"

Xander smiled back at her.  "That's my gal," he said quietly, 
glad to see Anya so excited.  He pitied whatever poor hapless 
employee she managed to hire, but as long as it wasn't him, 
he was happy.  

"Well, it is time for me to take my leave," Travers told them 
as he headed for the door.  "I suppose I should apologize for 
what we put each of you through, but if I did, it would be a 
lie.  I still feel that it was necessary to ascertain the 
loyalty of each and every one of you, and I do hope you will 
in time learn to forgive us for this.  However, in the 
meantime, you will see that there is a boat tied up on the 
dock, ready for your use whenever you choose to leave.  You 
are welcome to stay here for another week, though, for a 
*real* vacation.  We will leave you alone completely," and 
with those parting words, he disappeared.  One moment he was 
standing there, the next he was gone.

They looked at each other uneasily, but Buffy was the first 
to ask aloud the question they had all been thinking.  

"Do you think he's really gone?"

"I for one don't give a damn whether he's here or not," Spike 
growled.  "I've got one more week before I have to go back to 
Sunnyhell, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it!"  And with 
that he stood up, pulled Willow up after him, and left the 
room, heading for her bedroom.




Xander watched with a slight smile as his friend and Spike 
practically ran from the room.  They all exchanged knowing 
glances when they heard the redhead's breathy giggle echo 
down the stairs, and then the door to Willow's bedroom 
slammed closed and everything was silent.

"Are they-" the young man asked, and then stopped suddenly, 
shaking his head.  "Don't want to know.  I just don't want to 
know," he said.

"We could be doing what they're doing," Anya whispered, too 
low for the others to hear.  Before anyone could stop them, 
Xander and Anya were gone as well, muttering something about 
going to check out the previously-mentioned boat as they 
headed for the door of the mansion.  

Angel and Fred weren't far behind, making their polite good-
byes to Buffy and Giles as they headed out for a 'long talk'.  
Buffy privately hoped that they would refrain from talking 
with their lips; at least until they got home and were able 
to securely anchor the vampire's soul.

"Well, I guess we sure know how to clear a room, now, don't 
we?" Buffy said, teasing her watcher.  It seemed that all of 
her friends had paired up and vanished, leaving only herself 
and Giles in the big living room.  The thought that neither 
of them had anyone special in their life made Buffy a little 
depressed, but that was the life of a slayer, she realized 
sadly.  Still, things were looking up.  She was going to be 
getting a regular paycheck, and benefits, and that two weeks 
vacation each year was looking mighty enticing.  Maybe she'd 
take a cruise...there was no way she'd run into any vampires 
on a ship in the Caribbean.  Her mind buzzed with the 
possibilities.





Willow and Spike tumbled through the door and into her room, 
laughing as the door shut behind them.  He took her tenderly 
in his arms and looked down into her shining green eyes.

"Now I finally have you right where I want you," he growled, 
eyes flashing from gold back to blue again.  "Thought that 
Travers bastard would never shut his yap."

"And just what are you planning to do, now that you have me 
all to yourself," she asked solemnly, the slight twinkle in 
her eyes belying the seriousness of her words.

Spike stepped away for a moment, thinking of everything that 
they had been through during the last several days.  Was this 
too soon?  Was she really ready to put all of that behind 
them?

"What is it, Spike?"  Was he changing his mind?  Didn't he 
still want her?  All her old insecurities surfaced, and 
suddenly she felt like she was ten years old again.  

"Are you sure you're ready for this, luv?  After everything 
that's happened, I mean, we don't have to now.  We could wait 
until we get home."

"Don't you want to?" she whispered, turning away so that he 
could not see the tears that threatened to fall from her 
eyes.

The loud bark of laughter from the blond vampire startled 
her, and she whipped back around to look at him.  "Don't I 
want to, she asks!  I've been bloody well thinking of nothing 
else for a week straight.  Well, other than the murders and 
keeping you safe.  Hell yes I want to!  I just don't want to 
push you."  Hell, he was turning into such a bleedin' ponce.  
But when she turned to him and that gentle smile lit up her 
face, he knew it was well worth it.

"If you don't start kissing me right now, I'll-I'll-well, I 
don't know what I'll do to you, but it won't be nice," she 
pouted, sticking her lower lip out.  He thought about how 
enticing that lower lip looked, and how he wanted nothing 
more than to kiss it, along with the rest of her, and then he 
did exactly that.

"Love you, Willow.  Nothing will ever change that, " he 
murmured, kissing her lips with an intensity that left her 
breathless.

"I love you too, Spike," she answered back, breaking away 
from his tantalizing mouth for a moment to stare into his 
pure blue eyes.  All her insecurities and doubts were 
forgotten; all that remained was her love for him, their love 
for each other.  "And I think it's time we finally celebrated 
that love," she added quietly, returning her lips back to 
his.

They kissed again, tongues meeting, entwining, healing, and 
helping them forget everything except for their love.  He 
moved his mouth slowly, raising a trail of frozen fire down 
her neck as he kissed and nibbled the skin he found there.  
The sound of her moans and pleasure spurred him on, and soon 
he was paying homage to her breasts, kissing them, tracing 
them with his tongue, and finally nipping them with blunt 
teeth.  Her fingers ran through his soft hair, pushing his 
head to her breast and demanding more.

Finally Spike could stand it no longer, he had to be inside 
of her.  He slid down between her legs, his forehead resting 
gently on her nether curls, as he ran his tongue up and down 
the length of her slit.  The low, anguished moan made his 
demon rush to the forefront, and she gasped as she felt the 
ridges protruding from his forehead momentarily, until he got 
himself back under control.

"Please Spike," she murmured, her small body thrashing 
against him, trying to convince him to stop his sexual 
teasing.  Her body was on fire from his touch, the space 
between her thighs a pool of molten lust dying to be quenched 
by the feel of his cold hard cock.  She needed him more than 
she had ever needed anyone.

Spike grinned, loving the effect that he had on this woman.  
His woman.  

Certain now that they were both ready, he moved up slightly, 
until his cock was at her entrance.  He slipped just the head 
of it in, sliding it in past her lips.  Then, staring deeply 
into his lover's lust-filled eyes, he pushed into her, 
gliding in until he was in her to the hilt.  He heard her 
groan, and saw the momentary flash of pain in her eyes, 
before it was replaced by a building pleasure.  He gave her a 
moment to adjust, whispering words of love and encouragement 
and stroking her soft, silky hair.  

"The worst of it is over, luv.  Now comes the good part," he 
promised.

"It's all good when I'm with you," she told him, reaching her 
head up to capture his lips in another passion-filled kiss.

She was tight, so tight that even the smallest movement was 
difficult in the beginning, but as he began to move gently 
back and forth, her natural juices started to make his 
movements easier.  Soon he established a fast, pounding 
rhythm, and he felt himself rushing quickly towards his 
climax.  He slowed for a moment, changing his angle so that 
now when he entered her, his cock brushed past her G-spot 
each time.  Hearing her breathing increase to a fevered pant 
peppered with her soft moans, he knew that she was getting 
close as well.  

He broke away from her lips, bringing his mouth to her breast 
and began to nip at it lightly.  Grabbing the nipple with 
blunt teeth, he bit down gently, slowly increasing the 
pressure until it bordered on pain.  The extra stimulation 
was enough to send Willow crashing over the edge, and with a 
scream she came hard, her body thrashing and her walls 
pulsing and squeezing his cock.  Spike came with a roar, 
pushing into her one last time as he shot his seed deep 
within her.

They lay together, her breath ragged and fast, his non-
existent.  "Wow," Willow said softly, once she was again 
capable of speech.  "That was amazing."

"That it was, my love, that it was."


The end