A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta Eowyn315, who is gradually helping me to conquer the infamous adverb :P hehe



*Were we…were we in love?*

Spike stared straight ahead, unable to bring himself to meet Buffy’s eyes as he tried to think of a way to answer her question – quite possibly the most difficult question she could have asked him. He had already given away far too much for his own comfort, opening up to her about things he had determined to keep to himself. To confess the truth about his feelings for her in the future he had seen – the nature of the relationship they had been destined to have – would be to make himself far more vulnerable to her than he was willing to allow.

And yet, this was not the hardened, vicious Slayer he had seen in his visions. This girl was still open and kind, looking up at him through huge emerald eyes full of genuine compassion and concern. As hard as it was to believe, he couldn’t help but feel that if he lied to her, if he told her that they had been together and happy in the future he had seen, she would believe it without question.

And all at once, he knew – he could not lie to her.

He looked up at her with a solemn, appraising expression on his face, considering for a moment before he replied softly, “I was.”

Buffy took that in, her eyes averted for a moment before she looked up at him searchingly again. “So, then…I wasn’t?” she pressed cautiously. That much was obvious from his response, clearly, but she needed to know more.

A bitter, mirthless smile crossed Spike’s lips as he shook his head. “No,” he replied. “Not at all.”

Buffy studied his expression, a cold uneasy sensation settling in the pit of her stomach as the words Spike had *not* spoken gradually began to register with her. The distant expression in his painfully expressive eyes gave her a sense of foreboding, and she found herself wondering what he wasn’t telling her about her own future behavior.

“I hurt you,” she whispered finally, swallowing back the hard lump that had settled in her throat. “Didn’t I?” Almost without thinking about it, she raised a gentle hand toward his cheek in an attempt to get him to face her.

Spike flinched; it was very slight, hardly noticeable unless one was looking for it – and for some reason, Buffy found that she was. Her hand froze an inch from his face, and she drew it back slowly, her eyes wide and stricken.

“I did,” she concluded softly. “I really did…didn’t I?”

Spike cleared his throat, rising abruptly from the couch and crossing the room, stopping with his back turned to her.

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, shaking his head dismissively.

“Yes, it does!” Buffy protested, standing and moving toward him, but stopping halfway across the room, thinking better of invading the space he had so pointedly placed between them. “You loved me; you *helped* me…and I was mean enough to you to make you…? I actually *hurt* you? Like *physically*?”

Spike couldn’t suppress an ironic smile at the aghast incredulity in her voice, the utter disbelief that she might have been capable of such cruelty.

“Trust me, love,” he admitted darkly, before he could think better of it and stop himself. “The physical was the least of it.”

“Huh,” Buffy remarked in a flat tone of voice. “Somehow, not reassured.”

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Spike insisted, a bit impatiently, though he still refused to look at her. “We’ve got other things to think about at the moment, yeah? No need to get into a lot of gory details of things that aren’t even gonna happen.”

“How do we know they’re not going to happen?” Buffy challenged, her patience failing her as she crossed the room the rest of the way, attempting to get him to face her. “If I don’t know what I did – what kind of mistakes I made – how can I make sure they don’t happen this time around?”

“Who said what you did was a mistake?” Spike muttered in a hoarse, anguished voice, his head lowered in shame. “Who says I didn’t deserve every bit of it?”

“Certainly not me.”

Both Slayer and vampire whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice coming from the doorway. Leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, stood the smirking, redheaded vampiress, her eyes dark and glittering with magic and malicious amusement. She shrugged at their wary stares.

“I’m pretty sure you *do* deserve it – whatever ‘it’ is. You’re a bad, bad puppy, Spike.”

“You know, the soddin’ dog analogy, love…give it up,” Spike advised with obvious agitation in his voice, rolling his eyes as he turned to face her fully. Despite his discomfort at the topic he and Buffy had been discussing, he seemed quite irritated by the interruption. “It’s a bit…tired, at this point.”

Willow’s smirk turned slightly downward, her dark eyes flashing with irritation, and she stood up straight, her arms falling to her sides, magic sparking dangerously from her fingertips as she took a step closer to where they stood.

“Let’s see how ‘tired’ you think it is when you’re living it,” she snapped. “I think you’ll find it pretty interesting…you know…first hand…”

At her menacing words, the vampire tensed, his fists clenched at his sides as he slid gracefully into a fighting stance in preparation to face her. At his side, the Slayer matched his movements, taking a step forward as her hand slipped toward the dagger she had tucked into her waistband.

A flick of Willow’s wrist had the dagger flying before Buffy could touch it, removed from her waistband and suddenly slicing through the air – and the sleeve of Buffy’s shirt. The Slayer let out a startled gasp of fear as the razor-sharp blade pinned the fabric – and consequently her wrist – to the wall behind her. Before she could react, a second matching dagger materialized out of thin air, shooting forward to pin her other wrist in the same fashion.

“Don’t move, Buffy,” Willow warned her. “I can restrain you better than that, if I have to.” Her lips quirked upward in another smirk as she added, “It might be fun.”

Buffy considered disregarding the warning and tearing free, but hesitated. “Willow,” she began urgently. “Willow, think about what you’re doing! You haven’t hurt anyone yet – not really. You can still…”

“Enough,” Willow cut her off in a bored tone of voice, waving a hand in Buffy’s direction.

Buffy kept talking a moment longer, before realizing with alarm that, though her lips were forming the words, no sound was leaving her mouth. She drew in a sharp breath as her eyes went wide with fear.

“Relax, Buffy,” Willow advised with a cold smile in her direction, before returning her intent gaze to Spike, who stood warily watching her advance, seeking some opening to attack. “I’m not interested in you at the moment.”

As she reached the blond vampire, Willow reached out a casual hand toward him. Instinctively, his arm shot out, deflecting her touch and knocking her a step or two backward. Without hesitation, Willow drew back her other hand and spoke a harsh Latin word which instantly doubled Spike over, clutching his stomach with a moan of surprised pain.

Buffy didn’t think about what she was doing before she tore her arms free, ripping the long sleeve of her blouse and leaving one of the daggers stuck in the wall, while snatching the other deftly in her hand and moving purposefully toward the witch who was currently tormenting the helpless vampire, who had just fallen to his knees on the floor, his teeth clenched against the tremendous pain the vampiress was inflicting. The Slayer’s jaw set with determination as she came swiftly up behind Willow.

It never occurred to her to wonder why Spike’s pain so quickly galvanized her to action.

However, her action proved useless.

Without turning or sparing her a glance, Willow spoke softly, “Quiesco.”

Instantly, Buffy collapsed to the floor, her hand unfolding to release the weapon she held as she lost consciousness. Unfazed, Willow crouched slowly in front of the suffering vampire, her expression pensive but pleased as she reached out a hand again to touch his face, satisfied when this time she met no resistance.

“She’s not important to me,” the witch mused, though Spike was in too much pain to hear her words. “Not right now. First things first.” She leaned in close to his ear, her hand cupping the back of his head as she whispered confidentially, “And that would be you.”

With her hand planted firmly on the back of his neck, Willow straightened slightly, closing her eyes as she made a strange symbol in the air with her hand and murmured, “Defleo.”

Immediately the two of them vanished, out of the sight and reach of the stirring Slayer on the floor, gradually coming back to consciousness as Willow allowed her spell to fade.

After all…it wasn’t as if Buffy could do anything to stop her now.

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

Buffy sat up suddenly on the floor with a gasp, blinking as she stared around her and tried to remember what had happened.

She had been…talking. With Spike. A sick sensation started up again deep in her stomach at the reminder of the troubling nature of their conversation, the subtle implications of what he had said, and failed to say, as to her own guilt in the future that was not to be…not anymore.

Quickly, she pushed that thought from her mind, aware that there was something else she needed to be focusing on right now, something far more important…

*Willow*…

Her heart leapt up into her throat, and she stumbled hastily to her feet, glancing wildly about the room for any sign of her former friend or the blond vampire she had been attacking.

Both had vanished.

“Spike?” she called out, less surprised by the nearly frantic note in her voice than she would have expected. “Spike? Are you here?”

Of course, there was no response.

Willow had taken him.

Her heart pounding in her chest, she raced toward the front door, allowing it to swing open as she stepped out into Giles’ front yard, where the Watcher and his girlfriend were just finishing the process of setting up for the protection spell they were about to perform.

“Giles!” Buffy gasped, stumbling to a stop in front of him. “Willow…Spike…she took him!”

“What? Willow?” Giles frowned, confused.

“She was here?” Jenny’s dark eyes were wide with alarm.

“She came into the house,” Buffy explained hurriedly, nodding. “She just…appeared. Did some posturing and scary things with knives…then…then, I don’t remember. I must have…passed out. She must have *made* me pass out…and when I woke up, she and Spike were both gone.”

Giles’ frown deepened, as he removed his glasses from his face and began wiping at them with the hem of his shirt. “What would Willow want with Spike, specifically?” he asked, more to himself than to Buffy or Jenny. “Fledgling vampires have a tendency to target those who were close to them; one would think there would be others here who would draw her focus. Why would she target Spike?”

Buffy shook her head, at a loss, her huge, troubled eyes pleading with her Watcher for the answers he clearly did not have. “I don’t know,” she admitted in a quiet, trembling voice, “but we have to get him back. Who knows what she might do to him if…?”

Giles studied her expression intently for a moment as he replaced his glasses. At his side, Jenny gave his hand an almost imperceptible squeeze, and the Watcher let out a weary sigh of resignation, lowering his gaze. “Yes, of course. But…in order to do that, we must find her first.”

“Can you two do a locator spell, maybe?” Buffy suggested hopefully. “I mean…she could be anywhere…”

“Yes, of course, that’s easy enough,” Jenny nodded her encouragement. “We can do that, no problem. It’s just…first…”

“What?” Buffy asked, more than a little impatiently. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to do the spell we were already preparing for first, Buffy,” Giles informed her with an apologetic grimace. “The protection spell.”

Buffy frowned. “But…we have to hurry…”

“Buffy,” Jenny interrupted gently. “If, for whatever reason, Willow wants Spike…as powerful as she is right now…what good does it do to rescue him, if we don’t have a safe place to bring him afterwards?”

Buffy considered that for a moment, before letting out a disappointed sigh. “Okay. I guess you’re right. But…we have to hurry!”

“We will,” Giles assured her. “Just…let us do this, Buffy.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “And while you’re doing that, I’m going to go see if I can find them…”

“No!” Giles objected, catching her arm as she turned to head down the sidewalk. “Buffy, I can’t allow that! You can’t simply go off on your own, in search of an enemy who not only bears the face of your best friend, but is also in possession of more power than we are able to understand as of yet. You’re in no way prepared to face Willow right now, and most certainly not alone!”

“I can’t just let her…do whatever she wants to do to him! I have to help him!”

Giles stared at her bleakly for a moment, before Jenny gave him a much less subtle nudge. He cleared his throat as he replied, “Yes, yes, of course you do…” He paused before adding fretfully, “Why’s that again?”

“Rupert!” Jenny hissed.

“Yes, yes, all right,” Giles relented with another sigh, shaking his head. “Spike is…a presumably good creature at this point, with a soul and a conscience, and appears to be inclined to fight on the side of good. Of course, we can’t simply leave him to her whim. But, you must go about this wisely, Buffy. You must wait and allow us to do the locator spell, so that at the very least, you may maintain the element of surprise. All right?”

Buffy was silent, her eyes averted, her jaw set stubbornly.

“*All right*?” Giles repeated.

Buffy nodded finally, her teeth clenched as she echoed, “All right.”

“It should only take us a few minutes, Buffy, and then we can find out where they are…okay?” Jenny tried her best to placate the anxious Slayer.

“Okay.” Buffy nodded, frustration evident in her terse tone and stance as she turned abruptly back toward the apartment.

“Where are you going, Buffy?” Giles asked.

Buffy did not turn, striding purposefully toward the house as she called over her shoulder, “To get armed. As soon as we know where they are – we’re not wasting any time.”