Coming of Age Chapter 10

Masters and Minions 6: Coming of Age
Medea
medealives@hotmail.com

2033: TWO YEARS AFTER TIKAL

"You're earlier than I expected you."

Willow laughed with childlike delight as she looked at the purple-skinned demon, cloaked in midnight blue, who sat beside the jagged, rocky entrance to the Hellmouth in Hadar, Ethiopia.

The oldest existing Hellmouth on earth. The first gate.

"I didn't rush. Every minute of the journey was necessary," Willow assured the hermit. "I wondered if I would see you here, Hypnoi."

Although his face remained obscured in the shadow of his cowled hood, Willow could just barely make out his toothy grin.

"Yours has been a worthy journey, blood drinker. It was meet that I should see you at its conclusion. So, are you prepared?"

Willow smiled, fully at peace and assured in her knowledge. She remembered Anubis's words in Algiers.

"I wasn't prepared twenty years ago," Willow acknowledged. "I wasn't prepared five years ago, or even two. But I am prepared now. I know what it will say."

Hypnoi laughed melodiously and nodded his head toward the entrance. "Then enter, and see."

Willow proceeded into the rocky orifice and descended into its smoky, sweltering depths. She came to a smooth section of the cave wall that was covered in ancient hieroglyphs. It was the language Willow had learned during her captivity in Tikal. And although the characters mapped out an equation so complex it stretched from floor to ceiling, the cumulative effect repeated a single message.

It was time to go home.

*****

A memory.

A vivid sensation somewhere deep in the blood stirred his dreams, and Angel awoke, disoriented, in a tangle of sheets. His sleep had been troubled and restless for the past few days; often he hadn't awakened before nightfall. But this was tangible, close...

He could feel her. An essence like no other, heady with magic, flooded his senses. Stronger than it had been when they'd parted -- and darker. Angel leaped from his bed, frantic with hope.

Please don't let it be another dream.

Angel pulled on the nearest available article of clothing -- the loose-fitting, white-canvas pants he wore for workouts -- and dashed out to the lobby.

It wasn't a dream.

An image of that first night, so long ago, flashed in his mind's eye. A hesitant, frightened fledgling had stood before him in the lobby, trembling at his approach. Now it was Angel who trembled as he neared the companion who had haunted his thoughts all these years. She was so changed -- yet not.

"Willow."

"Hello, Angel."

He noticed the difference most in her bearing. She stood poised with a blend of confidence and edginess that suggested she had grown accustomed to watching her back in dangerous crowds. But her eyes, although softened with unspoken regret, held the same compassion they'd always had, even though it had been...

"Twenty years, Willow."

"It's good to see you again," Willow confessed.

Although her smile was warm and genuine, muting the regret in her eyes, Angel saw that she was holding herself back. Closing his eyes, fearful that he might yet be dreaming, he whispered hoarsely, "God, I've missed you."

When he reopened his eyes, she was still there. He could see her brow knit tightly and knew that she was suppressing tears, just as he was. One step toward her was all it took. The force of twenty long years pulled them into each other's arms. Angel wrapped her in a fierce embrace as Willow buried her face in his chest.

They clung to each other for what seemed like hours, so overwhelmed were they by their first contact in two decades. Buried in the deeper recesses of Angel's mind was a hushed dread that during her travels, Willow had grown hardened to the point that the companion he had known was no longer there. While she had been gone, he could cling safely to his own, idealized vision of her. But now that she was here, as relieved as he was to see her safe, part of him was terrified.

What if her demon had become dominant? What if she now resented him for holding her back?

What if his souled condition now disgusted her?

The long-standing fears surged forth, despite Willow's tight embrace.

But if Angel's worries were irrational, he was by no means alone.

Willow, too, was awash in conflicting emotions. She had left him. After everything he had done for her, she had left him. And it hadn't been on the best of terms, either. Even though her intentions had been good -- and had ultimately proven fruitful -- she wouldn't blame him if he felt betrayed.

Willow also knew that her experiences had changed her, hardened her in some ways. What if he was disappointed by what she had become? Would he see her as no better than any other vampire -- no better than those of their kind that he staked on a regular basis as champion for The Powers That Be?

Despite their silent fears, Willow and Angel eventually eased their desperate embrace and looked at each other with hopeful, if apprehensive, eyes.

"Are you..." Angel began, finding himself unable to complete his question.

"I'm back. To stay, if you'll let me," Willow affirmed, waiting tensely for his reaction.

His features contorted into a mixture of joy and disbelief. "Willow... this will always be your home. You never have to ask."

"I wasn't sure...when I left...I mean..." Willow stammered, "So much has happened. I didn't know if you'd want me back."

"Of course I want you back. I never wanted you to leave," Angel said fervently.

Still uncertain, Willow gazed at him intently. "I've changed since then."

Angel nodded and glanced away uncomfortably. "There's a lot to talk about. But...you're *back*. We have all the time to talk that we need." As he spoke, the dark vampire began to lead her back to his suite -- at one time *their* suite.

"Got blood?" Willow asked, acutely aware that, preoccupied by her return journey, she hadn't fed in almost three days.

Her companion tensed slightly, and Willow knew that Angel was struggling with the awkward subject of their history with exchanging blood. Of course, what she had to tell him would put an entirely new twist on that; in fact, it could change everything. For the moment, she needed to put him at ease.

"A good AB-negative...vintage 2029 if you have it, although the 2030 also has its bold, sassy overtones..." Willow observed playfully.

Her lighthearted banter had the desired effect; Angel relaxed and smiled.

"Nicely complements fish," he added, feeling relieved at the ease with which Willow joked with him.

Angel guided her through the door to his suite with a light touch of his fingertips on the small of her back. The contact made each of them shiver slightly, and Angel quickly pulled away to rummage through the refrigerator for some blood. Willow seated herself on the couch. She thanked him when he handed her a mug, and sipped its nourishing contents appreciatively.

"It's amazing how a week in a sparsely-populated jungle can make even bagged blood taste good."

"Jungle?" Angel prompted curiously.

"Near Uaxactún, Guatemala. Occasionally I could nip a tourist here and there, but I went through some long dry spells there," Willow explained.

Angel let out a low whistle. "Last I heard, there was a nasty clutch of demons near Tikal. I hope you didn't stumble across any of them."

"Actually, I went looking for them..." Willow admitted hesitantly. When Angel's eyes widened and he nearly choked on his blood, she steeled herself for the explosion.

"Went looking?!?! For the love of...I don't...*what* were you thinking Willow? I thought we could ease into this, but maybe we should confront it from the outset..." Angel sputtered.

"You're right, it will be better if we talk about what we *really* want to talk about," Willow agreed, "But if we're going to do this, I need you to calm down."

"Calm down?! There are fewer than twenty demon communities left in the world that practice both human- and demon-sacrifice -- one of which you willingly sought out -- and you want me to calm down?"

Angel squeezed his eyes shut, anguished at the thought of what her travels must have involved if she had felt no qualms about consorting with the demons of Tikal, the worst of the worst. He suffered in silence, tormented by dark thoughts about the situations Willow might have gotten into.

At last, when he had subdued his temper, he asked, "Help me understand, Willow. Why would you seek out such monsters? What have you been doing for the past twenty years?"

"This is going to take awhile, Angel," Willow mused with a weary smile. "To start with the Tikal demons, I *know* that what they do is horrifying. I witnessed it myself. But I wanted their knowledge. I hoped it could help me find what I was looking for...what I've been seeking for twenty years."

"Nothing could be worth that kind of risk," Angel countered, his words punctuated by dread at how easily he might have lost her permanently. "No amount of personal enlightenment, or whatever it was that took you around the world, matters more than you do."

"Angel, I won't start out like this. Something *was* worth every risk I took," Willow argued patiently. "But until you can listen to me with an open mind, tell me about things around here. How is Megan?"

Even before he answered, the sorrow in Angel's face revealed the painful truth.

"She died three years ago. There's another Slayer now."

Willow covered her eyes with her hands and rocked silently for several moments. She berated herself for not having returned sooner. How could she have imagined that Megan would still be around, when short life-spans were a basic fact of Slayer existence?

When Willow finally removed her hands, she turned red eyes to Angel and demanded, "How did it happen?"

His expression grew somber and, staring into the distance, he observed sadly, "How it always happens with a Slayer. She went down fighting. It was vampires, this time. Spike never did tell me all the details. I think it was too painful for him. After he found her...he went after all of them. Not just the ones who killed her. He tracked down their minions, their sires, their childer...every last vampire with even a remote connection to Megan's killers. He wiped out an entire clan."

"Oh, Goddess..." Willow murmured, stunned. She knew Spike well, knew what drove him, and drew the conclusion that Angel had left unspoken. "He took her as a lover, didn't he?"

Angel nodded. "Her freshman year in college. It was about two years after he came back. I warned him how little time they would have; wanted to spare him what I went through."

"But he didn't listen," Willow commented with a soft smile at Spike's familiar patterns.

"Does he ever?" Angel chuckled ruefully.

He and Willow shared a quiet, thoughtful moment as she dealt with the harsh reality of Megan's death, and her remorse at not having returned in time to see the girl after she had grown. At least Megan had been reunited with one of her protectors from the early days.

Willow's smile deepened, and she admitted honestly, "I'm glad they had each other, even for a short while. I'm glad he had someone while I was away." After a brief pause, Willow braced herself and voiced the inevitable question that learning about Megan's death had raised. "Did anyone else die while I was gone?"

For a moment, Angel's eyes flickered demon-gold. Anger was evident in his voice. "Gunn."

Angel continued bitterly, "Police shooting. They had a vague description of a suspect: adult, black male. He was doing what he always did -- fighting all the creatures the police don't know about, to make L.A.'s streets safer for humans. The review board called it a 'tragic incident'."

Willow grasped Angel's hand. "Angel, I'm so sorry."

Angel closed his eyes at the painful memory. Gunn had been a true friend, one who never pulled his punches or hesitated to speak his mind.

"He cared," Angel murmured sadly.

After a few minutes, he continued, "You'll be interested to know who started lending us a hand at Angel Investigations after we lost Gunn."

"Who?"

"A promising young man named Jesse Harris."

"Little Jesse?" Willow squealed impulsively, then clapped her hand over her mouth in astonishment.

Angel chuckled. "Little Jesse is twenty-nine years old now, and taller than you."

"And Xander and Anya? Giles?" Willow pressed, suddenly eager for details.

"Everyone's fine. Giles and Wesley have both been active in the re-organization of the Watchers Council that started about the same time you found Megan. Xander's company is doing well, and he and Anya have been talking about traveling a little, now that Julie and Jesse have left home. Willow..." Angel's tone grew serious. "We'll have plenty of time to talk about how things have changed around here. Right now, I want to hear about you. I need to understand why you put yourself in danger."

Willow prepared to reveal what she had found. If Angel was willing to accept it, they both had a chance for happiness.

<If he even feels for me after twenty years,> Willow reminded herself.

"I left because I realized that the one thing I wanted most was you," Willow began. "Working with Megan helped me take my mind off the fact that you and I couldn't be together, but when I had to give her up...just as I had to give you up...I felt trapped. It seemed like there were two choices: happiness along the path of the demon, or self-denial along the path of my human remnant. I couldn't resign myself to either one, so I set out to make a third option. It took twenty years, but I finally found it."

"Found what?" Angel asked, fully attentive.

"The means to make your soul permanent," Willow answered softly.

"My soul?" Angel repeated, staring at her in disbelief.

"No happiness clause involved, no fear that a false move could banish it into oblivion," Willow confirmed.

"How?" her companion wondered, almost in a daze. Her revelation was still too much to process. It seemed too good to be true. "More Romany magic?"

"No, human magic can be undone," Willow explained. "In the end, it wouldn't have been worth the effort. That's why I traveled among demon communities for so long -- even some of the worst, like the Tikal demons. I needed something older, something more powerful. After years of rumors, hints about an elusive, lost magic, I traced it to its origins. There are words written in the rock deep within the Hellmouth at Hadar, Ethiopia...forgotten since they were first used."

"Maybe forgotten for a reason, Willow," Angel cautioned. "Demon magic and souls don't mix. There's no guarantee that using a dark spell on a soul wouldn't leave the soul tainted, twisted."

"I know," Willow nodded grimly. "That was something I learned at Tikal. But this isn't demon magic, either. It goes back even further."

"Demons were the original inhabitants of this realm, Willow. Theirs is the oldest magic there is," Angel objected.

"It's not simple magic. It's one of the Essential Principles that structure this realm, woven into the very fabric of this reality. Kind of like a law of physics. It was this Principle that was invoked to fix the first soul in a human body, making it more than mere dust."

Willow's calm words left Angel speechless.

He blinked at her, then looked away. What she had said rattled every one of the beliefs that had been instilled in him when he was human, and that apparently still shaped his thoughts. That kind of power couldn't be wielded by lesser beings...the idea seemed nothing short of blasphemous.

When Angel had regained his ability to speak, he murmured, "How could something like that have been written down? Aside from the one who invoked it and the recipient, there were no other witnesses."

"Oh, there was one witness," Willow assured him gravely. "And that, I discovered, is the source of the oldest case of sibling rivalry on the face of the earth."

"Cain and Abel?" Angel narrowed his eyes, perplexed.

Willow chuckled at him. "No, you Catholic. Humans and vampires. This entire realm wasn't made out of nothing. You said yourself that demons were the original inhabitants; they were displaced to bring a human world into existence. What better way to strike back than to steal the vessels who were given dominion over all things in this world?"

After a brief pause, Willow continued.

"I always wondered about the weird way that we perpetuate ourselves. On a basic level, humans are nothing more than food to us. But it's out of humans that we make our mates, our companions. Vampires are driven to consume humans, in more ways than one...we're kindred. Children of the same Principle: what was first used to gift a lifeless mass with a soul, was later reversed to give demons the ability to banish that soul and colonize the vacated body. In a way, it's a kind of twisted tug-of-war, but it's helped me understand why vampires can be so possessive and territorial. It's our oldest memory."

Stupefied, Angel leaned into the sofa and tilted his head back until he was staring at the ceiling. He would have expected Willow to come back from a long journey with knowledge rather than a souvenir tee shirt. But she'd outdone herself. It was almost too much to grasp.

Straightening up, he looked at her and confessed, "I don't know what to say."

"Say that you'll at least think about it," she replied, with a sad, yearning glimmer in her eye that tugged at Angel's heart. Almost awkwardly, she lowered her head and whispered, "After twenty years, I can't expect you to feel the same way about me. But I love you, Angel. You were with me, no matter where I went. Every night, I kept hoping: maybe tonight I'll find the spell that will let me go home, that will let me be with him. Because *you* are my home, Angel. You are my heart, and my soul."

"Oh, Willow..." Angel breathed softly. "Don't ever doubt that I love you. When you left, I had nothing. Everything was empty -- most of all, me."

Trembling, Willow whispered, "Be with me."

Angel nodded.

Willow rose to her feet and held her hand out to Angel. He let her draw him toward the bedroom, and complied willingly as she urged him to lie down on the bed.

"I don't know how forcefully this will hit you; if you're already reclining, you can't be knocked over," Willow explained with a gentle smile.

"What if it doesn't work? Is there a chance that my soul could...?" Angel asked, fearful of what might happen if their effort somehow weakened the tenuous link he already had to his soul.

Willow caressed his cheek reassuringly. "Angel, it will work. I haven't ever been more sure of anything."

They looked at each other, sharing a final moment of wonder and trepidation.

Then, kneeling above him, Willow lowered her face to his, telepathically projecting an array of harmonies that no mouth could ever pronounce. It was less a spell than a mathematical equation. As the tones blended with each other, Willow felt something that she had never expected to feel again.

Her lungs swelled with a living breath.

Willow pressed her lips to Angel's in the most primal kiss, and let the breath pass from her lungs into his.

That which flowed from Willow to Angel was indeed given in love.

For one, blissful, fleeting moment, they shared the feeling of life as it stretched and tingled in their chests.

Then the sensation faded.

What was left in its wake, Angel couldn't describe exactly. But he knew -- he knew without hesitation. His soul was so firmly implanted in him that it was virtually inseparable from his body. Only his final death would send it flying away.

The feeling was too powerful to bear, and Angel was unable to stop himself from shaking. He reached up and caressed the face of his beloved, so moved that he could think of only one thing to say.

"Childe..." Angel whispered. "Blood of my blood..."

The words left her stunned, and Willow let out a half-choked cry. Any semblance of reserve was lost as she felt tears pooling in her eyes.

Angel pulled her down for a sweet, all-consuming kiss. The years melted away, and every bleak moment of loneliness was burned off by the heat of renewed passion. When Angel released her mouth, Willow found herself laughing and crying at the same time. Murmuring hushed assurances of love, Angel cradled her face and kissed away the tears. Slowly, persistently, the gentle touch of his lips soothed her until Willow felt the exquisite serenity that came with knowing this was but a prelude to what they could share for the rest of their days.

Suddenly, neither of them could wait to get started.

Angel rolled her beneath him and kissed her again, so deeply and thoroughly she thought he might be trying to pass the soul right back to her. They devoured each other slowly with lips and tongues, savoring each other with the patience of artists, the appetites of gluttons, and the abandon of two halves made whole.

Without interrupting their leisurely exploration of each other's mouths, Willow and Angel deftly began removing the articles of clothing that separated them. Soon, every inch of skin was open to their touch, and they lost no time in delighting in a thousand tactile memories. Willow ran her hands over the smooth, solid plane of his back and let them slide down to caress his hips. Angel flicked his tongue along her neck, gradually making his way down to the gentle swell of her breasts. He closed his lips around a nipple, sucking it in deep and nursing it rhythmically with his tongue. Willow arched her back, growing wet with the delicious sensation, and instinctively her thighs parted.

Angel's hand wandered down to tease her already-tormented flesh. His fingers stroked her engorged outer lips, while his thumb worried the intimate nub concealed between them until Willow groaned from the painfully delicious ache. At her frustrated cry, Angel shifted his weight and slid inside her. They stilled for a moment, letting their bodies drown in that first, wonderful moment of joining. It was what they had both wanted for two decades.

Slowly, they began to move. Their thrusts were gentle, almost teasing at first. Steadily, the urgency of their tempo mounted, as they built themselves closer to rapture. Willow clung to Angel, wrapping her legs about his waist and kneading the tight flesh of his ass as he plunged deeper within her. Soon, the pleasure was almost too much to bear, and she was gasping for unneeded breaths. In one, brilliant, suspended instant, Willow felt the tension within her belly contract and then explode outward. She shuddered, and was joined by Angel as he gave himself over to his release.

They held each other afterward, lightly stroking each other with reverent, almost hesitant hands. Neither could believe that they had just enjoyed an act of love so pure, so intense, that under different circumstances it would have shattered Angel's soul. It was only beginning to dawn on them that this was no longer denied to them -- that it would be the first of many.

Angel pulled her against himself, squeezed as though he would never let go, and whispered, "Mo chridhe. My heart."

Willow smiled, and kissed him again.

*****

The following night, Willow stood beside the fountain in the courtyard, bathed in moonlight as she waited for Spike to appear. She had felt his approach since early that morning, knew it was the call of the mark she'd left on him as he drew closer and closer. The tug of her bond told her that he was within the city limits, and its pull grew steadily.

She knew he could sense her. And by all indications, he was coming like a bat out of hell.

She felt him enter the lobby of the hotel; within seconds he was staring at her, mute with disbelief at the long-sought apparition who stood before him. He looked haunted, haggard and drawn. Willow suspected that he hadn't fed in days, and it cut her to the core. She guessed that he had neglected his own needs, tearing the world apart to find her.

Spike took one step forward. Having recovered his voice, he declared hoarsely, "It faded."

When Willow's brow wrinkled in mild confusion, Spike extended his wrist. The tattoo Willow had infused into his skin with her own blood was only a pale shadow of what it had once been. The blond vampire continued numbly, "Two years ago. You said so long as you were still here, it would be on my wrist. That if it vanished, it meant you were gone. You didn't say what it meant if it faded..."

His voice trailed off as Spike slowly, hesitantly walked toward Willow. With heartfelt remorse, she said, "It wasn't something I'd anticipated. I encountered magic that was stronger than my own. I'm sorry, my love."

For a hushed, tense moment, they looked at each other in silence. Then an expression Willow had never seen on Spike's face before twisted his features into those of a distraught, frightened boy.

"I didn't know what to think!" Spike cried.

He sank to his knees, wrapped his arms desperately around Willow's waist, pressed his cheek against her belly and wept.

Willow dropped to her knees and kissed him, pouring into the kiss every ounce of love she had. Spike drank her in greedily. Pulling back for a split-second, he morphed into his demon face, and Willow followed suit. Rushing past the tentative preliminaries of human tenderness, they embraced each other as demons, with a vampire's kiss that ran fang-deep. Willow reeled from the force of his hunger as he suckled at her neck. She withdrew her own fangs from his vein, terrified at how far he had let himself wither away. He was dangerously low.

Angel stalked into the courtyard in alarm. By now, through the bond he shared with his childe, he, too, had sensed it.

Crossing over to Willow and Spike, Angel placed his hands on the blond vampire's shoulders and waited for him to lift his mouth from Willow's neck. After a few more swallows, Spike drew back and looked up at his sire, Willow's blood trickling from his lips. Angel sank to his knees, facing his childe, and offered his neck. Silent thanks flickered in Spike's demon-gold eyes before he leaned close and began to drink the elixir that could restore him as no other.

While Spike fed deeply from Angel, Willow ran her hands gently over Spike's back and nuzzled the nape of his neck with her brow. Gradually, Willow's ministrations and his sire's blood allowed Spike to relax until he was purring contentedly. At last, he pulled away and looked wonderingly at his two lovers, absent too long from his side.

Angel rose to his feet and drew Spike up with him. Gazing into the wild, volatile blue that had been so captivating when Angelus had first laid eyes on him, the dark vampire murmured in a soft brogue, "What've ye done ta yerself, sweet William?"

Spike smiled slightly, then swooned and seemed as though he might fall over. He was still dangerously weak from his lack of feeding. Ignoring Spike's feeble protests, Angel swung his weakened childe up into his arms and carried him back to his suite.

Willow followed, and when Angel laid Spike on the bed, she sat down beside him and murmured, "Spike, I'd like to renew my mark on you. It will allow me to give you my strength."

Spike closed his eyes and said nothing for a moment. Then, very softly, he asked, "That the only reason you want to do it?"

Willow smiled at his stubborn pride. It had been fifteen years since they'd parted ways, yet his quirks were so familiar.

Stretching out alongside him, Willow draped one arm across his chest, snuggled close, and whispered, "No. I told Angel I was back to stay, if he'd have me. The same goes for you. I know it's been awhile, but I've missed you. I want to renew the bond because you're my family, Spike. My lover, my companion, my temptation...my sweet, wicked monster."

"Don't forget 'Big Bad'," Spike reminded her, mustering as much bravado as he could. However, feeling the effects of not having fed in close to eight days, he grew tired and added weakly, "Missed you, too, luv."

His permission granted, Willow offered her wrist, and after he bit into it she repeated the same ritual she had performed in Baghdad.

Angel returned from his refrigerator with several Red Cross pouches. When he was certain that Spike had consumed enough blood, the three companions, together after such a long separation, wrapped themselves around each other and slept.

Although there were questions enough to last them for months, relaxing into the shelter of each other's company came back to them effortlessly.

*****

Within two days, it was as if Spike had never missed a night of feeding. His strength and arrogant sense of humor returned in full force. Yet, like Willow, he had changed as a result of his experiences. Thus, their first nights back together were somewhat awkward, but also magical -- it was like discovering treasure on familiar ground.

First, however, they had to get past two things.

Megan, and Angel's soul.

It was their first conversation after Spike was strong enough to sit up, awake, for more than an hour at a time. For a talk that involved such sensitive issues, it began so simply.

"So, what brought you back, Red?" Spike asked as he sipped the mug of warmed blood Willow had just handed him. By now, they had moved him from Angel's suite to his old room.

"I found what I was looking for," Willow explained, uneasy at how Spike would take it when she confessed that she had been searching for a means to secure Angel's soul. His reaction to her initial decision to leave, especially when he'd learned it was because she and Angel could no longer be together, was forever burned into her memory. She hated that she had been responsible for hurting him so deeply.

"And that was...?" Spike prompted her, smirking at her nervousness.

Willow averted her eyes and answered quietly. "A way to make Angel's soul permanent, without any worries about a happiness clause."

When Spike said nothing, Willow cast a furtive glance at him, fully expecting to see betrayal etched across his face. She was stunned to see not pain, but a quiet thoughtfulness, in his eyes. He nodded slowly in acceptance, took another sip of blood, and murmured, "I assume it's already done -- it worked?"

The redheaded vampire nodded mutely.

A slight smile teased at Spike's lips. "I'm impressed. That's quite the feat you pulled off, Red."

Finally, Willow recovered her voice, although when she spoke it was rather small. "You're...you're not mad?"

"What, just 'cos you abandoned me for fifteen years so you could find a way to be with the Poof?" Spike observed bluntly. He couldn't resist a slight barb, any more than he could avoid feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. But when Willow cringed in remorse, he relented. "Nah, could never stay mad at you, luv." He cupped her cheek with one hand and his eyes burned into hers. "You should know by now, I'd turn the world upside-down for you." Then, in a more lighthearted tone, he continued, "Besides, you gave him back to me. My sire and I have gone through a lot since I came back from Baghdad."

Willow's eyes glistened in empathy. "I know. Angel told me about some of it."

Spike closed his eyes at the painful memories. "Then I guess he told you 'bout Meg."

"Yes. I'm happy for what you had together. And I'm sorry for the pain you went through when she died. I wish I'd come back sooner, so I could have had just one chance to see her again."

"She would've liked that. Cor, you would've been so proud if you'd seen how she turned out." Spike's voice was rich with emotion as he recalled Megan's vibrant strength. Then, sobering he admitted. "I'd have been nothing but cold, blind rage for years after she died if it hadn't been for Angel."

After a few, silent moments, Spike set aside his mug, grasped Willow's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, luv."

She smiled at him in mild surprise. "For what?"

"For not mindin' about Meg. I never did come lookin' for you after five years, like I'd said I would."

"Your place was here with her, then," Willow assured him with heartfelt conviction. "Spike...neither Angel nor Megan have to come between us."

"No, luv, they don't," he agreed, losing himself in her beautiful, green eyes. Eyes he'd dreamed of on more days than he could count... even, from time to time, when he'd been with Meg.

Spike and Willow held each other in a tender, forgiving gaze for several moments before bringing their mouths together in a healing kiss. Willow stretched out, molding herself to Spike's body, and rested her head on his chest. Reunited and reconciled, the two lovers fell asleep in each other's arms.

Continue to Chapter 11

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