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Potential

Part One

Spike sat at the bar in the Bronze, watching with amusement as a
teenager attempted to bluff her way past the barman. < A thousand
years old. Right. >

As she finally gave in and ordered a coke, he considered easing her
disappointment by offering her some of his whiskey. Of course, he
couldn't be expected to go thirsty...

Reluctantly he decided against it. She looked like she probably went
to the same high school as the Slayer and the last thing he needed was
an irate blonde with supernatural strength coming after him. < Not
before I can go after *her* at any rate. >

Since he'd been back in town, he'd been keeping a low profile. After
all, as fun as it would have been to announce his arrival with a red
wet calling card, that would shoot the element of surprise all to
hell.

<That, and I don't have a plan yet. > In fact, Spike wasn't quite sure
what he was doing back in Sunnyhell. After the abortive attempt to
reunite with Drusilla, he'd felt drawn back here by a sense of
something left undone.

He had a hunch that it was the amount of people left breathing. Or
*not* breathing in some cases.

Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, he took a long drag of his
cigarette and contemplated his late love. Of course, she'd been dead
as long as he'd known her, but this was a tad more permanent. In his
mind's eye he could see her silhouetted against the sunlight for the
brief second before it ripped her into dust. < Should have got
stronger chains... And she was just getting fond of me again, too. >

A flash of quickly moving black distracted his attention. < Angel. >
A faint growl rumbled through Spike's chest as he stared at his sire.
The dark vampire was no engaged in what looked like a friendly
conversation with the guitarist of the band. No matter how often he
saw it, it still turned his stomach. A demon chatting with his prey.
All right, that by itself wasn't so bad. Spike himself had been known
to have long friendly talks with humans. Then he killed them. It was
a two-part deal, but Angel always got stuck on the first bit.

Turning away in disgust, Spike was just in time to see the first of
the vampires come through the door. < Well well, what’s this? > He
watched them position themselves around the room, noting that Angel
and the guitarist had also noticed their arrival. < Going to come
down and fight mate? Or going to run off and find your girlfriend? >

He smirked as Angel faded into the darkness on the stage. Returning his attention to the
vampires, he
saw that
their eyes were all focused on someone hidden by the crowd. Then the
crowd parted, and she stepped forward onto the dance floor.

If he had still had his breath, she would have taken it away.

His eyes traveled up her long leather encased legs, slid over the
molded curves of her breasts and reached her face. A strangely
familiar face. A muffled whisper escaped his lips. "Bloody hell."
< The little witch! What have I missed? >

Fascinated, he listened to her speak to the terrified masses, admiring
her style. She had the same childlike air that had attracted him to
Dru, the same wistful smile. And the face of her demon was beautiful.
Bone ivory skin framed with hair the colour of blood.

He expected to be revealed when her eyes swept the crowd, but her gaze
passed over him with only a fleeting expression of interest. <
Interesting... Has she forgotten me so soon? I'll have to change
that. >

When the guitarist tried to stop her, she didn't recognize him either.
< Hmm... Maybe she has more in common with Dru than I thought. >

Just then, the girl he had previously noticed stepped forward boldly.
< Idiot human. > Spike waited impatiently for the red head to kill
her, and was surprised when they instead fell into conversation. He
caught snippets of it, something about "...this is not your world..."
and "Another me?"

He watched the reminiscent upward curve of her lips as she said "In my
world there are people in chains, and we can ride them like ponies."
In that moment she sounded so much like his lost princess, the
innocent longing in her voice capturing him completely. He wanted to
take the hurt from her eyes, shower her with victims, make her life
the living hell that she wanted it to be.

She was going to belong to him.

Before he could step forward and make his claim, she was gone,
slipping out of the Bronze entrance. Within minutes, he had made his
escape through the same skylight as Angel < Hate to imitate that
pillock, but if I kill them all, I might lose her. >

He lost her anyway.

He spent the next hour searching Sunnydale, cursing viciously under
his breath. Finally he returned to the Bronze, dropping in through
the skylight just in time to see her walk in the door. < Wait... >
Spike had spent ten minutes staring at her face, memorizing the
contours, the colors, everything about her.

Something was wrong. Her face wasn't pale enough. Concentrating, he
could almost hear the nervous pumping of her heart. The real tip-off
was the attitude. *His* redhead was completely sure of herself. This
one was not. < What could have happened? How many bloody Orbs does
this town have, anyway? >

From the darkness at the back of the stage, he watched the other
vampires (and that idiot girl, but who knows what she's doing here)
become aware of the change.

When they moved threateningly towards her, his body tensed in
readiness, waiting to jump out. < She may have changed, but she’s
still *mine*! >

As the scream split the air, he was poised to leap forward but had to
stop himself nearly in mid-flight as the Slayer and her pack of humans
burst through the doors.

Moving further back into the shadows, he watched the fight, every
fiber of his being crying out for him to go out and tear, and rip and
kill. The only thing that stopped him was his uncertainty about who
exactly he should kill. < The Slayer is my enemy… but she’s
protecting my girl. The vampires are my people, but they're
threatening her. Damn! >

When his redhead was pulled up onto the stage by the guitarist, Spike
smirked in satisfaction. < Thanks mate. A little bit closer and I can
grab first and ask questions later. >

That was when she was tackled by... her? < What in the…? >

Spike eyed the two fighting figures with confusion. He felt the
definite urge to protect her. < But they’re both her? Who do I
protect? >

As one of the Willows gained the upper hand, he prepared to move in to
stop her. <Can't figure out which one I want if one of them is dead.
Well, more dead. >

The Slayer beat him to it.

She was there before he even saw her coming, pulling one Willow off
the other. It was apparent that the one who'd been losing was the
one he'd met before, the one who belonged to the Slayer.

As the two girls looked at each other, he heard the vampire one say
"This worlds no fun. " in the same wistful tone that had captured him
before.

The other Willow looked at her very seriously. "You noticed that
too?" The tone was the same. < Alive... But still like my princess. >

It was then that he decided. One of them would stay, since only one
of them belonged.

It didn't matter. Both were his. If it was the vampire that stayed
he'd take her. If it was the human, he knew what she could become and
what she *would* become. < All the better maybe. Then I’d be her
sire, and she'd truly belong only to me. Forever. >

Silently he left the Bronze without being noticed. < Tomorrow I’ll
find out. And then, let the games begin. >

Part Two

The following day was one of the longest that Spike could remember.
The entire course of his un-life (so, basically, eternity) was
dependent on what had happened during the interminable daylight hours.

When nightfall finally allowed him to leave the basement of the
abandoned building, he would find out which of his choices had
remained.

He allowed his mind to rest on the memory of both. One with ageless
skin white as bone, the life less body at her feet. The pure joy of
killing lit her face in a radiant simulacrum of life. The other with
shy eyes and quick nervous movements, trapped in the
self-consciousness of living.

The same smile though. The same quick flowering of happiness that
transfigured her into sudden beauty and made the rest of the world
fall away. < When she looked at the guitarist… >

Glancing around at the fallen timbers and chunks of stone which
littered the concrete floor, his face twisted in a grimace. <
Whichever it is, better find some new digs before I take her. This is
no place to bring a lady. >

It's one of the interesting points of Spike's psyche that while he has
no problems with torturing, killing and eviscerating women, he will
always do so in relatively luxurious locations. He would say that it
was because "He was raised a gent." It would probably be closer to
the truth to note that if you're going to be torturing someone,
there's no reason to deprive *yourself* of pleasing surroundings and
comfortable chairs.

Vampire self-delusion aside, the fact remains that he was waiting.
Impatiently.

Willow was also waiting impatiently, though in her case there was less
of the blood soaked visions of nights to come, and more of the vague
irritation at her history teacher.

"And in the first part of the century, the fur traders of the Hudson
company..." The voice droned on, as 30 pairs of eyes bored into the
man, each hoping for some form of stroke, embolism and/or rabies. Of
course, even though this *is* the Hellmouth, staring at people can't
make them drop dead. Probably.

To the possible salvation of Mr. Topshee, the bell rang. On her way
out the door, Willow realized that she was alone. Looking back, she
saw the Slayer, eternally vigilant against the forces of evil, the
last bastion of defense for humanity.

She was snoring gently.

Unfortunately, supernatural resistance to evil doesn't protect you
from the slightly diluted form of it called education.

Shaking her friend awake, she led her out of the classroom. Wending
their way towards Buffy's locker, they walked slowly down the hall,
trying to shake off the cloud the lecture had wrapped around their
minds.

"So, are we still Bronzing tonight?" Willow's normally cheerful tone
was edged with a yawn.

"Definitely!" Coming instantly alert at the thought of leisure time,
Buffy put a little skip into her walk. "Don't try to weasel out of it
now!"

"No, no, I'm not." She hastened to reassure. "As well as, you know,
the fun and yay portion of the evening, I think I should take this
opportunity to let everyone see me."

Her thought processes still clouded, Buffy looked puzzled. "See you?
Is this newly burgeoning self-confidence I spy?"

"No! I mean, not that that would be a bad thing, but what I really
meant was..." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "See *me*! You
know... sans leather?"

"Oh. Oh! Yes, that's a plan. A good plan." Buffy shivered. Seeing
her best friend as a vampire had been bad enough, seeing as how it was
the epitome of every nightmare she'd ever had about the possible
repercussions of being both a Slayer and a friend. The outfit hadn't
helped.

Nodding emphatically, Willow put her books into her locker. "After
last night? I don't think I can *ever* wear leather. Any kind of
leather."

"Um, Will?" Buffy nodded at her feet.

"What?" Looking down, she focused on her new loafers. "Eep!" She
turned a wide-eyed face toward Buffy. "It's starting!"

Laughing, the blonde girl took her arm and pulled her towards the
library. "Calm down. I promise to warn you if you start becoming a
biker chick, okay?"

"This is not a joking matter!" Willow's protests faded as the library
doors closed behind them.

Giles looked up from his books. "What is not a joke?" His face was
serious, anticipating some sort of demonic twist to the response.
Living on the Hellmouth can really blunt your appreciation for small
talk.

Her eyes wide and innocent, Buffy pointed at Willow. "Her new shoes."

"What? Oh. Yes, very nice."

"But that's not what I..." < Do I really want to expalin my worries
about becoming a dominatrix to Giles? > Her voice trailed off.
"Thanks."

Grinning at Willow, Buffy moved to sit on the table. "We just stopped
in to do the "Great Evil" check of the day. Anything due tonight
that'll keep us from going out and having fun?"

"No, no. Everything looks fine. Well, fine as usual."

The blonde, already slumped in anticipated disappointment, brightened.
"Really? You wouldn't tease me, would you? It's not nice to tease
the Slayer."

"No, there doesn't seem to be anything requiring your personal
attention... Faith is on patrol tonight so-"

"Great! " Grabbing Willow by the arm, she moved quickly towards the
door. "Thanks, Giles!" In a whisper under her breath. "Hurry.
Before he changes his mind."

Turning half around in Buffy's grip, Willow attempted to be polite
while walking backwards at high speed. "Goodbye. See you-" The door
shut on the rest of her pleasantries.

Xander rushed forward from his post outside the doors. "Well? What's
the verdict? Did our friendly neighborhood Watcher have good news?"

Buffy nodded, while still maintaining her escape velocity. "We're
fun-ward bound. That is, if we get out of here before a prophecy
jumps out of those books!"

When they made it out, all three breathed a sigh of relief. In
Willow's case, it was relief at being able to slow down before she
fell over. For the other two, it was lack of research euphoria.

Splitting up, they agreed to meet up at Buffy's house in a few hours.
After all, by then the sun would have set. And Sunnydale isn't a good
place to walk alone at night.

There's safety in numbers.

Usually.

Part Three

The cold night wind ruffled through Spike's hair as he moved quickly
towards the Slayer's house. < If I’m lucky, she’ll be there. If I’m
*really* lucky, I'll get more hot chocolate. > Following a Slayer was
usually a good way to get dusted, but in this case he was willing to
chance it. If she'd just had a friend die, she'd be too distraught
to notice. < Of course, then I’ll just have to hope that she didn’t
kill off the other one in payback. >

His steps slowed as the house came into view. Lights blazed warmly
from the windows and the faint sound of music came from an upstairs
window. Easily climbing up to the overhanging roof, he moved along
the side of the house until he reached it.

From this distance, the music resolved into a sugary pop tune.
Looking carefully through the glass he saw the Slayer shrugging on a
short black leather jacket over her mini-dress. After checking her
hair in the mirror, she flopped down on the bed and started reading a
magazine. Come on, you great cow! I may have eternity, but that
doesn't mean I want to spend it here! >

The shrill pealing of the doorbell cut through the sound of the
insipid male vocalists. The blonde bounced off the bed and ran out of
the room, vanishing from Spike's view.

Moving silently, he circled round to where he could see the front of
the house. The door was just closing. < Brilliant. Just brilliant. >
Before he had time to work to where he could see through the
downstairs windows, he saw a flicker of movement. The door swung
open, spilling sound into the night in a sudden cascade of voices.

The flash of light on crimson hair brought Spike instantly alert.
< It's her. > Willow's face was turned away from him as she laughed at
something Xander said, but there was no mistaking that fiery hair,
that awkward grace.

As she tripped down the steps, followed by the idiot and the Slayer,
she half pivoted to continue the conversations. The light of the
street lamp cast dark shadows across her face, but even this fleeting
glance was enough.

In the time since he'd seen her... them, he'd wondered if he was
imagining it. If his grief over Drusilla's death was leading him to
see things in her that weren't really there. Now he knew that it was
real. She was even more beautiful than he'd remembered.

With silent treads he paced the small group as they walked through the
streets, his eyes drinking in every move Willow made. He watched as
she ducked her head shyly in response to a compliment, her pale skin
suffusing with blood. So innocent... He'd have to be sure to keep
that. More or less.

In his mind, he had already begun the process that accompanies the
creation of a true childe, rather than the lackeys that usually
surrounded him. Which traits to encourage, which to snuff out... All
the decisions that needed to be made. < I'm going to have to get
closer. Spend some time with her as a human, so I know what needs to
change and what'll be most effective. > His unseen smile grew as he
realized where they were going. < Perfect. >

*****

The music pulsed through the dark confines of the Bronze like a beast
on the prowl the throbbing beat mingling with the light melody of
conversation.

Buffy glanced into the shadows as the three friends made their way to
a table, looking for something or someone that wasn't there. With a
consciously bright smile she turned away.

Spike slipped in after them, weaving himself into the heart of the
crowd where he wouldn't be easily visible. With hungry eyes he
watched as Willow brushed the hair out of her eyes in a quick
gesture. Her companions were oblivious to her nervousness. It was
obvious to him that she felt slightly uncomfortable here, out of
place. < So why does she keep coming? >

Glancing at the Slayer and the idiot, he had his answer. Buffy was
practically glowing under the admiring gaze of the men in the club and
the idiot beamed with pride at being associated with her. By
contrast, Willow shrunk ever so slightly into herself. < How...
sweet. She comes to make her friends happy. Wonder what she'd do to
keep them alive? >

With surreptitious steps he moved closer to them. Half-hidden behind
a pillar he listened.

"...long do you think we'll be prophecy free?" The Slayer's tone was
hopeful.

"Not long enough!"

Willow seriously considered the issue. "Well, there's the Time of
Chaos coming-"

Her attention distracted by the changing music, Buffy cut her off.
"Ooh! I love this song! C'mon guys, let's dance!"

She jumped to her feet, quickly followed by Xander. Reminded of the
first time that he had seen them, Spike waited for them to drag Willow
out on the floor with them.

"Not right now, okay? I'm a little tired."

Accepting her refusal easily, the other two left her there and moved
off to gyrate to the music.

< Perfect. Bloody perfect. > His teeth gleamed in the flashing light
as he stood behind Willow's chair, his back to the dance floor.
Settling his hands on her shoulders, he waited.

"Oz!" She twisted half around in his grip, her welcoming smile dying
as she saw who held her. He could feel her muscles bunching under
his hands, felt the urge to run rise in her and watched as she fought
it down. < Clever girl. >

"Not quite." Her quickened breathing sounded loud in his ears. For a
moment, he was almost lost in the hypnotic rhythm of her heartbeat but
caught himself. Frightened green eyes darted past him, towards the
dance floor. His hold on her tightened to the point of pain as he
reclaimed her full attention. He shook his head warningly.

"None of that, luv. I'm just here for a little chat. We wouldn't
want this to get violent." His lips quirked. "Well, *I* might. But
I don't think you want anyone to die..."

Her mouth opened and closed as her agile brain ran through the
options. He watched the thoughts chase one another across her face,
fascinated by the play of emotions. Finally, she refocused on reality
and gave him a sickly smile. "Won't you sit down?"

Part Four

Accepting Willow's coerced invitation, Spike slid into the chair
opposite her, making sure that he was in a spot that wasn't easily
visible from the dance floor.

"Thanks, love." Blue eyes drank in every detail of her appearance,
skimming her skin in lazy appraisal while he listened to the erratic
music of her heartbeat.

She fidgeted in the silence, sudden lightning prickles darting under
her skin wherever his eyes touched it. In an effort to maintain some
sort of social normalcy she spoke up, her tone absurdly
conversational. "So... You're back in town, huh?"

"Apparently."

Willow's fingernails tapped nervously on the polished surface of the
table as she fought to keep herself from checking to see if Buffy was
on her way back to the table yet.

A possibility presented itself to her frantic mind. "Are you here for
another spell? 'Cause I have to tell you that I've given up
witchcraft and I realize now that I was wrong, yep wrong, just plain
wrong to be meddling with that sort of stuff on a Hellmouth. Nope.
No more of that old magic for me. So I realize you must be very
disappointed now and I'm sorry so why don't I just leave you alone so
that you can get ov-" She was half way out of her chair, still
babbling nervously, when his voice stopped her.

"Willow."

"-it and you... Yes?"

"I'm not here for a spell. And you're not going anywhere."

"Oh." Reluctantly she sat back down, casting a hopeful glance over
her shoulder at where Buffy and Xander were still dancing, oblivious
to the danger and social awkwardness behind them.

"Tsk. Tsk. If you keep doing that we may have to go somewhere where I
can be sure of having your *full* attention."

Her eyes widened. "No no! You have my full attention, really!"
Leaning forward slightly, she fixed her gaze firmly on him.

Slightly elongated canines flashed whitely as he smiled. "Good. Now
let me ask you, pet... How do you feel about leather?"

Various disturbing possibilities ran through Willow's mind as she
considered the question. "Um... It depends. On the type of leather.
Because there's good leather and bad leather."

"I was thinking of leather pants and corset... Ones that mold to you
like a second skin and show off the curves of your body. Done in jet
black so that your skin glows like moonlight and your hair looks like
bloody silk."

"No! That's bad leather! That's..." The implications of his
description slapped her across the face. "You saw her?"

"Her? I don't know what you mean." His denial sparked the instant
creation of the theory that maybe *lots* of vampire women dressed like
her double. This possibly intriguing line of thought was cut short by
his soft voiced clarification. "I saw you."

"No no no! I mean, yes it was *me*, but not me me. Other me! And
that one of me is gone, so no more leather for me. Not here anyway.
She's probably still wearing it wherever she's gone. But I don't
wear leather! Except for shoes. And I'm going to trade them in for
sneakers. And-"

With apparent casualness he reached across the table and lightly
grasped one of her still fidgeting hands, pulling it towards him
across the table. Her rushing explanations ceased abruptly as his
cold fingers circled her wrist.

"Now that *would* be a shame, love. Seeing as how it suited you so
nicely." Turning her hand palm up, he began tracing intricate
patterns on the delicate skin of her inner wrist, lingering over spots
where the blood pulsed hotly just beneath the skin.

Her words came with an effort as she attempted to ignore the
distracting sensations his caresses were producing. "I don't think
that it's really my style. I couldn't breathe."

"Oh, I disagree. I think that it was perfect for you. And I'm sure
you'll come around to my way of thinking... once you no longer have to
breathe."

Color leeched from her face. He tightened his grip on her hand when
she attempted to pull it away and continued to stroke it softly. His
tone remained pleasant even as she started using her other hand to try
to pry his away.

"You see, I've never been much of a solitary person. I like to have
someone around to talk to, shag with and hunt beside."

Still tugging at her captive hand, Willow said "What about Drusilla?
Didn't you get her back? I could still do that love spell! I don't
mind, really!"

"A little late for that, love. Love spells don't do much for dust."

"Oh..." Willow stopped struggling as her sympathetic nature took over.
"I'm so sorry."

He looked at her sideways, a crooked smile on his face. "You are,
aren't you?" He tugged her gently forward, forcing her to lean across
the table until their faces were only inches apart. He studied her
with puzzled fascination. "Such a feeling little creature. Always
want everyone to be happy, don't you?"

A tilt of the head indicated Buffy and Xander. "Your friends..."

Remembering the stories that Angelus used to bore them all to tears
with. "Your parents..."

"Even me." His wry smile was an indication of how few people had
cared about his happiness.

Her tone was slightly defensive. "There's nothing wrong with wanting
people to be happy! It's nice. Happy is good. I don't like it when
people are unhappy, or sad-"

"Or lonely?" He finished her sentence in a quiet voice.

"Well... no."

Black-nailed fingertips glided lightly over her face, tracing the
bones underneath. She closed her eyes as his touch smoothed over her
eyelids, the darkness stealing away the reassuring throng of people
around them. The beat of the music seemed to pulse inside her bones
and she felt the light caress of frigid fingers against her skin with
an intensity that made her catch her breath.

"I'm lonely, pet. Won't you make me happy?" His voice was low and
full of desire as it carried to her ears through the
darkness-sharpened music.

Hunger lurked behind his words, hunger spawned in an age long dead and
satiated in secret over a thousand bloody nights. It seemed to
batter at her exposed nerves, shaking her out of the light fog induced
by the blanketing darkness and his pain-filled voice, its malevolent
presence a needed reminder of how far from human he really was.

She blinked at the renewed view of the Bronze, the smoky half-light
seeming bright as day in contrast to the absolute blackness of a
moment before. "No! I mean, it'd be nice if you were happy, but I'm
not going to die for it!" She stared into his eyes bracing herself
for his anger.

Always one for doing the unexpected, Spike held her gaze for a long
moment before he spoke. "No harm in asking, was there?" Releasing
her, he pushed back his chair and stood.

Her mouth hung slightly open as she stared at him. "No, no harm at
all. Really. Thank you for thinking of me. Um... I hope you find
someone."

"Thanks pet, but I already have." His eyes lightened to gray with
amusement as he watched her relieved smile fade. "It was only polite
to offer you the chance to come willing... but it won't make any
difference in the end."

He turned away, his lean figure swiftly disappearing into the swirling
mass of humanity that thronged the club.

Willow stared after him, her face blank as she mentally replayed their
dialogue. There didn't seem to be much room for misinterpretation.
And he didn't seem drunk this time.

"Um... Buffy?"

Part Five

After Willow had finally managed to attract the attention of the dancing
pair, it had been a good ten minutes before she'd made them understand that
she was upset. After that, a twenty-minute game of tearful charades had
gotten across the fact of Spike's return.

Willow's incoherent babbling being hard enough to understand in *quiet*
surroundings, Buffy and Xander had escorted her to the library. A phone
call had summoned Giles, who arrived just after the generous application of
tea filched from under his desk had calmed Willow from a state of gibbering
panic to a more understandable hyper babbling.

"And then he was there and it was Spike and he was sober and he said he
*saw* me! And..."

"Take it easy, Will. What do you mean, Spike saw you?" Buffy's tone was
soothing.

Willow stared fixedly at her incriminatingly leather-clad feet "Yes! He
*saw* me!"

Buffy and Giles exchanged worried glances. The librarian moved to stand
next to the frightened girl. "He was at the Bronze tonight, you mean."

Obviously relieved at his apparent comprehension, the red head nodded.
"Yes!"

His brow wrinkled as he attempted to understand. "And that's when he saw
you?"

Willow hit the table with a balled up fist. "No!" Stopping, she looked at
her fist. "Ow. No, that's when he saw *me*! The other me wasn't there!"

Xander looked up at Buffy from his seat on the steps. "You haven't been
giving her sugar, have you?"

"Look, it's perfectly simple. At some point when I was here, Spike saw me!
And tonight I met him, and he was talking about leather, and corsets and he
didn't seem drunk and that's not a good thing!"

Understanding dawned in Buffy's eyes as she remembered Willow's earlier
rambling comments about the evils of leather. "Oh... You mean he saw vamp
you."

"Uh-huh!"

"And he..." Giles thought for a moment. "Is interested in that version of
you?"

Willow nodded, a blush coloring her skin.

"That shouldn't be a problem, we'll just explain to him that we sent the
alternate version of you back to her own reality, and I'm sure he'll..."

Willow's frantic nods of agreement had metamorphosed into equally frantic
head shaking at some point during Giles' speech. "I *told* him that! And
he said that all that leather suited me and I said that I couldn't breathe
in it and he said that I'd agree with him when I couldn't breathe and it may
be just me, but that sounds like a threat!"

Buffy put her hand on Willow's shoulder. "Willow?"

"Mm?" The sound resembled a cross between a squeak and a moan.

"First, breathe. Second...I don't think it's just you, but you don't need
to worry. Spikes not getting within two miles of you unless he's carried in
on a dustpan. Right, Giles?"

"Oh, yes certainly. I'm quite sure that we can manage to um, protect you."

Xander beamed. "There, Wills you see? And besides, you'll only need to be
protected until Buffy finds and slays. After that, you only have to worry
about the normal dangers the rest of us Sunnydale residents face every
day.... Bad traffic, high humidity and the occasional minion of hell."

A reluctant smile crept over Willow's face. "Thanks. But he just seemed so
certain. And... lonely."

Buffy waved her hand in front of Willow's eyes. "Hello? Undead? We do
*not* have to care about their emotional trauma."

"Oh sure, she says that now, but the second Dead-boy shows..." Xander's
muttered aside was loud enough to be heard by normal ears, let alone Slayer
ones.

Buffy's glare should have poked his eyes out at the very least. Luckily,
the Hellmouth once again missed its chance to channel demonic power in a
humorously ironic way, much to the oblivious betterment of Xander.

"*Anyway*..." Breaking off her unsuccessful attempt at ocular homicide,
Buffy went on. "If he's really lonely, he can go find some other chick to
spend eternity with. Preferably someone who's already a vampire. Common
interests and all that."

All three looked at Xander expectantly as Buffy paused.

He spread his hands innocently. "I have nothing to say here."

Shooting a suspicious glance at the cherubically smiling Xander, she went
on. "Maybe we could try to track Drusilla down... The two of them were like,
the perfect couple up until that whole Chaos demon thing. Maybe we could
talk her into coming back to him."

"Oh..." Sadness filled Willow's eyes. "She's gone. That's why he's lonely.
"

"Oh no! Another demon shuffles off the immortal coil, leaving us sadder
but... No wait. I'm not sadder."

Willow shot Xander a disapproving look. He looked confused. "What? I
should be sadder?"

Giles closed his eyes briefly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps we
should work out some sort of plan. Guard schedules and all that."

"Guards?" A hint of squeak re-entered Willow's voice. "Um, I'm not sure
that I need *guards*. Why don't I just stay inside my house when I'm not
with you guys?"

"I really think that-" Giles started.

"No, really! I'll be fine." The redhead straightened her shoulders and
attempted to look self-confident. "As long as I don't invite him in, or go
out."

Holding up a hand to forestall Giles' objections, Buffy started circling the
seated hacker with deliberate steps. "Sure, you'll be fine, right?"

"Yup." Willow followed Buffy's movements out of the corner of her eye until
the Slayer stopped directly behind her.

"No way you'd ever let him in, right?"

"No. Of course not!"

Her hands resting on the back of Willow's chair, Buffy said in a serious
tone "And if he threatened the life of a bystander? Said that he'd kill
them if you didn't invite him in?"

"I'd... I'd..." Green eyes took on the glassy stare of a deer caught in the
headlights.

"Right." Turning away from her friend, Buffy looked up at Giles. "So, what
kind of guard schedules were you thinking of?"

Continue........

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