Willow managed to smile weakly and nod, as if she were paying attention to Buffy's latest Riley story. It felt completely fake, but her friend seemed satisfied with the response, so she must have gotten good at pretending to follow what was going on around her. Either that, or people simply weren't paying her any more attention than she'd been paying them. She was betting on the latter.

After all, how could they have failed to notice how much she'd changed over the past several weeks? Since Oz had left, she didn't feel as if she had the energy to do anything anymore; just getting out of bed left her exhausted most days, emotionally if not physically. She'd tried talking to her remaining friends, but they'd made it clear they thought she was just being self-indulgent; and then her admittedly stupid attempt at working that spell didn't help things any. She knew that. Ever since, she'd been careful not only when it came to magic, but also about limiting her complaints to the gang, since she knew she'd sacrificed any right she might still have had to their sympathy. And to top it all off, it had even cost her the marginal goodwill of the only person who'd tried to cheer her up during all this: Spike, of all people. She supposed she ought to be grateful to him for trying to kill her that night in her dorm; at the least, she knew now that although living seemed like too much effort, she wasn't quite ready to die yet, either. Or rather, her instinct to survive was stronger than her desire for total numbness; why else would her body have insisted on fighting when he tried to bite her?

But even when it turned out he couldn't, he still took the time out of his own pain and frustration to try and convince her she was bitable. She knew he couldn't mean it, of course--what would someone like him want with someone like her?--but it was sweet that he tried. And every once in a while she couldn't help wondering...maybe it wasn't a total lie. After all, he'd actually remembered what she was wearing that night he'd kidnapped her--a year later, even though he'd seemed pretty drunk at the time; not even Oz had remembered that kind of thing about her, unless it was a special occasion or a costume or something. Not when she dressed normally. Heck, she might not have remembered what she'd been wearing if it weren't for the fact that every time she put on that sweater, she had fear-flashbacks and images of that broken bottle being shoved into her face.... She'd tried repaying Spike for his kindness in the only way she could, by confirming his inability to bite when he finally came begging for their help, but after she'd accidentally gone and had him kissing Buffy, well, he'd just become all mean again.

She couldn't blame him. She couldn't blame any of them, really. They were right; she'd acted horribly. So she'd stopped complaining to them about how she felt or what she was going through, and started trying to at least appear interested in their lives instead. They all said they'd forgiven her--well, except Spike, but that was to be expected--but she still felt guilty for all the trouble she'd caused. She didn't want to give them any further reason to hate her.

They should hate her, though. Try though she might, she couldn't think of one single reason for any of them to spend even as little time with her as they did. She and Xander had almost nothing in common anymore, and although he denied it, she'd always suspected that a part of him still blamed her for the breakup with Cordelia. And besides, he had Anya now, taking up most of his time, and the two girls had never much cared for each other. Plus there was the whole resentment over not getting to join the rest of them in college.... Giles looked down upon her for her attempts to learn magic, and with every botched spell, she grew more convinced he was right. And Buffy...Buffy didn't need any of them anymore. Spike was right; everything he'd said to her and Xander that night they'd caught him trying to stake himself was true. She'd tried telling herself that he was just lashing out, trying to hurt someone in the only way left to him, but while she knew that much was true, so were the things he'd said. She was useless, just hanging around hoping to hold onto the days when Buffy needed their help, when they were a team. But everyone else had moved on, and she was left alone, the same old nerd she'd always been. Spike and Percy had both seen it, and probably other people had, too, but had just been too nice to say anything.

Willow got up and followed Buffy as they went from the dining hall to psych class, still lost in her melancholy thoughts. She knew she'd have to do something soon; she couldn't continue pretending like this. It was getting harder and harder to keep up the "normal" facade.

But what else could she do?

Buffy, Xander, and Anya were researching at Giles' one evening a couple of weeks later when Spike burst in. He barely glanced at them, heading for the kitchen.

"Oh, look, big surprise, the gang's all he--hey, hang on." He stopped and looked around more carefully, trying to figure out what was missing. "Where's the witch?"

The teenagers looked up and glared at him for intruding, as usual.

"Wait, don't tell me--was Willow the only one of you sorry wankers who managed to get a date for this lovely Friday night? Way to go, Red," he smirked.

"What are you talking about, Spike?" Buffy finally asked, exasperated.

"What? You can't be serious. You lot are having one of your little research parties and didn't even notice that Miss Research herself didn't come?"

The blank looks that met him seemed to confirm that such was, indeed, the case. At length Buffy spoke up again, now looking slightly ashamed. "Well...Will's not been feeling well lately, or something, I think. She probably just needs a break from the whole Hellmouth thing; it can take a lot out of you...."

Giles sighed. "I don't suppose you'd care to inform us of just why you've chosen to invade my home once again, Spike?" he asked, without much hope of a suitable reply.

"Actually...I haven't seen her at all since last week," Xander broke in before the vampire had a chance to say anything.

"Yes, which meant you had more time for me," Anya told him firmly. "I'd hardly say that's a bad thing."

"But she is all right, isn't she, Buffy?"

The Slayer's eyes darted around nervously, not willing to meet her Watcher's. "Oh, well...um...I haven't really seen her much myself, Giles."

"How is that possible? You're her roommate, for heaven's sake!"

"Oh, I see her, but she's mostly asleep. Or, you know, we're in psych and, well, you guys know Willow, wouldn't dream of talking during class!"

"So let me see if I have this straight," Giles said as Spike smirked at them all from the kitchen. "No one has really spoken to or spent any time with Willow in over a week? And it hasn't occurred to any of you that this might be a cause for concern? In case you've all forgotten, Sunnydale is still a Hellmouth; and none of you thought to worry that Willow may not be all right?"

They just looked at him sheepishly before all beginning to offer excuses at once.

It wasn't as difficult as she'd expected. Once she'd decided what had to be done, Willow found it surprisingly easy to avoid them all. With Xander and Anya, it was simply a matter of not going over to Xander's basement or the research parties at Giles' apartment. Buffy took a bit more effort, but she soon found that if she left the dorm in time to get breakfast before her first class, her roommate was still asleep; she spent her non-class hours holed up in a corner of the engineering library, figuring that would be the last place anyone would look for her--if they even bothered trying--and returned to their room after she knew Buffy would have left in the evenings. By the time the Slayer returned from patrolling and spending time with Riley, Willow was already asleep; the only time she had to worry about maybe talking to her was in psych class. She knew it could be dangerous, crossing the entire campus to get from that library to her dorm after dark every night, but she couldn't get worried about that. It was more of a distant knowledge; there, but not something to really concern herself with. And it meant being able to just disappear from their lives quietly; she doubted anyone had even noticed.

It was better this way. They no longer had her slowing them down, and she didn't have to worry anymore about when they would finally get fed up and tell her off the way Spike had; she knew it would hurt more coming from them, and she didn't think she could deal with that. Now, she could just slip away, no big confrontations or, or pleas to stay just because they thought it was the "nice" thing to do, and before long they'd forget she had ever been part of the group.

All in all, the ideal solution.

Now all she had to do was find a way to make it through each day, until the Hellmouth finally caught up with her and she fell victim to some vampire or demon or something. She accepted the possibility calmly; what difference would it make? She was just going to die someday anyway, might as well be now as later. She wasn't going to go out looking for trouble, but she wasn't going to stress over the chance it might find her, either. She'd spent three and a half years being afraid of what the Hellmouth might throw at her; now, she simply didn't care. It seemed like a waste of energy, when the baddies were always going to be a lot stronger and faster than she was.

She made it through nearly two weeks before she had any trouble; walking back to the dorm one night, she heard faint footsteps behind her. Willow wasn't surprised to find an arm suddenly wrap around her waist, a hand covering her mouth to prevent her from screaming even had she been inclined to and tilting her head back, exposing her neck. She'd expected to find herself struggling whether she consciously wanted to or not, as she had with Spike, but this time her body didn't bother trying to save itself, and she just stood there, eyes closed, waiting for the bite she knew was coming...

...only to find herself collapsing backwards as the body holding her turned to dust. She looked up, stunned, into Spike's impassive face as he stood over her. She couldn't believe it; Spike had saved her? She just sat there, blinking up at him, trying to figure out why he hadn't just waited until after she'd been bitten before staking the other vamp, since presumably he could drink from someone as long as he didn't do the actual biting....

After several moments of gazing at each other in silence, Spike finally decided to speak first. "Not safe out here alone, Red. You know that." She didn't reply, deciding she'd rather not have to explain to Spike, of all people, how little she cared about that lately. He shrugged, reaching a hand down to haul her to her feet. "Hear you've abandoned your little friends. Care to tell me why?"

Willow shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "N-not abandoned anyone, just h-had stuff to do, that's all." The last thing she wanted was for him to find out the truth; he'd either laugh at her for fearing that she was holding everyone back, or agree that she was, and she wasn't sure which would be worse.

"Of course you did," he snorted derisively. She started walking off, determined not to let him get to her. It was just Spike, after all. "What, I don't even get thanked for saving your life? Some small show of gratitude?" he called after her, his voice mocking. She froze, but didn't turn to face him.

After standing there for several minutes, she continued on her way to the dorm.

Spike stared at Willow's retreating back, disbelieving. At first he'd saved her in hopes of being able to talk the Slayer, or at least Giles, into giving him some sort of reward, preferably monetary, for protecting their friend when none of them were around to do it. Now, however, he was growing a little concerned. He'd never believed she was dealing with the mess with her wolf as well as everyone else seemed to, but he hadn't thought it was this bad. But something in her bearing just now, in the refusal to meet his eyes, in the complete absence of gratitude or even relief at having been rescued...it wasn't right. It wasn't like her. Ordinarily she should be at least trying to appear normal, from what he could tell. Even when he'd burst into her room that night, intent on killing whomever he found there, she had fought him, come alive once more in her struggle to survive. He'd seen her despair in the moment between his invitation and her realisation of what was about to happen, and he'd seen her damp it down, dredge up the strength to resist yet again.

None of which had been present that evening.

From what he'd seen, she hadn't fought at all. The girl who'd dared stand up to him the previous year was willing to just stand there and let herself be eaten. By some nobody of a fledgling. That just wasn't right. For one thing, he wanted to kill her himself, someday. He couldn't bear the thought of some fledge taking his kill away from him, never mind that he'd passed up on at least one good chance to do it and had been unable to finish things another time. For another, well, he had to admit that he had grown a bit fond of the chit, now that he'd been forced to spend so much time with the Slayer's gang. She...amused him, and he didn't like seeing her this hopeless. He'd assumed the Watcher was exaggerating the danger when he'd discovered no one had really talked to the girl for a while, but now he decided there truly was cause for worry. The question was, what should he do about it?

The Slayer was useless, that much was a given. If she couldn't even be bothered to keep up with her own roommate's life, well...and besides, he hadn't forgotten how quick she'd been to just declare that Willow was "dealing" despite all the signs to the contrary. Looked at the right way, it was all her fault he'd ended up engaged to her, not the witch's; Buffy should never have let her friend get to that point.

He also couldn't see himself going to the moron with his observations; Giles was a possibility--at least he cared about the girl, and had more sense than the others--but he wasn't sure just what the Watcher could do for her. The kids looked to him more as a father than a friend, and Spike got the feeling that there were some things they just wouldn't listen to him about, no matter how sound his advice. Probably be best to get a better idea of what they where dealing with first, he decided, setting off to follow her.

Once he caught up with her, his concern only grew. Even from a distance, what he saw in the way she carried herself bothered him. He'd be the first to admit that he enjoyed inspiring fear, instigating pain; but they were, in a sense, lively emotions. This emptiness, the utter lack of feeling...it was just wrong. No fun in it. Certainly nothing he could get anything out of, never having gone in for the whole "break someone's spirit just because you can, and then continue to beat them when they're down" aspect of being a vampire. Even if he could, there'd be no point in killing her now. No, clearly he'd have to find some way to help her break out of this before he got rid of the bloody implant, so he could still enjoy it when he went to bite her at last.

The next several evenings, Spike carefully tracked Willow as she made her way back to the dorms, until at last he'd discovered where she hid herself away each afternoon. It came as no surprise to find her tucked away in the corner of a musty library; the fact that he was able to approach her table, and even take a seat opposite her, without her noticing did seem unusual, however. Silently he contemplated the girl across from him, trying to decide how to go about getting through to her, as he waited for her to realise she was no longer alone.

She just sat there, unaware of her surroundings, staring blankly at the book in front of her. It was clear that she wasn't reading it, but he couldn't begin to guess at her thoughts. At length she sighed, closed the book, and looked up, eyes widening slightly in surprise when she saw him. What he didn't see was the expected panic at the thought that it could have been another, less temporarily-harmless, vampire who'd snuck up on her and had a perfect opportunity to drain her. It only confirmed Spike's suspicions that the attack he'd interrupted didn't bother the girl; her previous delightful tendency to panic at the drop of a hat had been utterly overpowered by whatever was causing these changes to her behaviour in general.

Deciding that for the moment a gentle approach would be most likely to succeed, he merely said softly, "Hello, love."

"Hi," she whispered, clearly confused by his presence.

"I have to say, I'm rather surprised none of your friends have thought to look here for you; I should think a library would be the first place they'd expect to find you."

She didn't respond, so he tried again. "They're worried about you, you know. Well, the Watcher is. And maybe Xander. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone where you've been hiding if you don't want me to," he reassured her.

"I, I don't know what you mean. I'm not hiding," she protested weakly, not meeting his eyes.

"Of course not, love," he said without a trace of the sarcasm which would normally be his response to such a blatant untruth. "Anyway, pet, you just go on with what you were doing, pretend I'm not here. I'll walk you back when you're ready to leave; don't want a repeat of the other night, after all."

She regarded him warily for a few moments before opening another book and pretending to focus on it. He apparently made her uncomfortable, though, as unlike before, she kept shifting in her seat, eyes darting around the stacks, seemingly not knowing where to rest. Finally she gave up and glanced at her watch. Spike resisted the urge to say that she was safe, the Slayer would almost certainly not be in their room any longer; if she wanted to pretend she wasn't hiding from her friends, well, now was not the time to call her on it. Instead he just watched as she gathered her things and stood up to leave, falling in beside her as she made her way through the library.

Each night thereafter, Willow found herself joined shortly after sunset by the vampire. A couple of times, she tried to avoid him by going somewhere else, but he always managed to track her down before too long, and he never left her side until she was safely back at the dorms. While they were walking, he'd talk to her about a variety of subjects, seemingly whatever happened to cross his mind at the time; occasionally he'd ask her opinion on something, waiting patiently until she came up with a reply. If it became clear she didn't want to respond, however, he never pressed her--just continued on calmly as if he'd never expected her to speak anyway. Somehow, he seemed to know when his presence was becoming too much for her; just before she was ready to burst into tears from frustration, he'd back off, giving her silence, if not solitude. The few times she dared tell him to just go away, he withdrew for a while without protest--never leaving entirely, but at least following her at a great enough distance to provide the illusion of being alone. Of course, he was always back the next night, so it never lasted long.

They were walking silently one night when she found herself whispering plaintively, "Why?" Once she'd done it, she couldn't decide whether she'd prefer it if he heard her or not, but hoped that if he did, he wouldn't ask her to clarify. She'd been trying to figure out what he was doing there, spending a good part of every evening with her, but she hadn't a clue. It wasn't as if he were even asking for her to research anything--he was just there, and she'd been unable to think of a reason; it was confusing.

The silence stretched until she grew certain he wouldn't be answering, when at last he spoke quietly. "Well, now, that's an interesting question. It could be because you helped me not all that long ago. Or it could be because I want you to still be around when I get this bloody chip out, so you can have the honour of being the first person I kill. Maybe it's because I like you. Or maybe I just want to turn you against your little friends, by being nice to you when they're not. Perhaps I was worried about you. Perhaps I'm trying to make up for the things I said that night at the museum.... Frankly, pet, your guess is as good as mine."

"Oh," Willow murmured, keeping her eyes focused on the ground before her. She didn't know what answer she was expecting, but it definitely wasn't what she'd received.

She heard Spike stop walking, but continued on, until he reached out and caught hold of her, pulling her around to face him. She couldn't help staring at his hand on her arm, then back at him. This was the first time he'd touched her since that night she'd almost died; almost the first time anyone had touched her in weeks, in fact. It felt...odd. Like she'd forgotten what simple physical contact with another person was like.

She met his eyes, wincing from the flash of pity she saw there, though it was rapidly replaced by a more earnest expression. "Willow, I'm not trying to be glib here; I honestly don't know why I'm doing this. I've asked myself the same question many times, but have yet to come up with an answer that feels right. I'm afraid you'll just have to trust me when I say I'm not doing this to hurt you."

They stood there like that for a while before she nodded glumly and turned to continue making her way to the dorm. Spike released her arm, and fell into his accustomed place beside her, seemingly as lost in his own thoughts as she was in hers.

And so it went, their routine changing little, what conversation they had limited to casual topics neither really cared about.

Eventually Spike began to hope that perhaps Willow was ready to talk about whatever was bothering her. He'd managed to avoid pressing the issue thus far, knowing he could do her no good if he forced her into pushing him away entirely; now, however, she seemed more relaxed around him, no longer quite so resentful of his intrusion into the little private world she'd retreated into.

He decided to broach the subject gradually. "So, love, seems there's this Gonosz demon come to town." He paused briefly, but there was no response. "Giles has been holed up in that flat of his for days, trying to dig up some way to get rid of it."

"That's nice," Willow mumbled.

"Yeah. In fact, just the other day he was wishing he had you there to help him; said he's not getting anywhere in the books, and misses your research skills."

Her eyes remained fixed on the ground in front of her. "I'm sure they'll find the answer just fine," she replied listlessly.

"You know, that's what the Slayer tried to tell him, but he wasn't convinced. Said his books seemed useless on the subject, and he wouldn't know where to begin searching on the net."

She just shrugged, but when she spoke this time her voice held the barest trace of resentment. "I'm sure Buffy can get whatever information is needed from the Initiative."

Aha. Now they were getting somewhere.

"Maybe. But some of us wouldn't want to trust them to provide accurate information. Even aside from my own feelings about the bloody soldier boys, the Watcher feels they've shown too much willingness to dismiss anything mystical or supernatural as superstitious nonsense or what all. Not to mention the fact that they seem to think of us demons as dumb animals, incapable of thinking or planning for ourselves," he snorted. "All of which boils down to the fact that any information they might have would be incomplete at best, if not completely misleading. One thing I've got to say for you Slayerettes, at least you acknowledge that humans aren't the only intelligent beings on this bloody planet. And you don't ignore prophecies. Well, not all of you do; I'm still not sure I should give the Slayer that much credit.... So you see, ducks, he needs your help if he's going to come up with anything useful."

Willow shook her head. "I've, I've got too much work to do, I'm sorry. They'll do just fine without me."

She refused to say another word the rest of the evening.

As soon as the sun went down the following day, Spike headed for Giles', wanting to talk to him before he needed to go escort Willow home. As usual, the vampire burst in without bothering to knock.

"You alone, Rupert?"

The Watcher sighed, looking up from his book. "Well, I was. And I would like to be again, so if you don't mind--"

"Good. Need to talk to you." Sensing that he was about to be interrupted, Spike jumped straight to the point, knowing it would catch Giles' attention. "It's about Willow."

That got the expected reaction, all right. Tensing, Giles abandoned the book altogether and turned to give Spike a worried look. "What have you done with her?"

"Nothing, whoa, take it easy there, mate! I haven't touched the girl. Physically, she's perfectly fine--or was, when I left her last night. That's not the problem."

"Well, then, what is?"

"It's like this. Was taking a shortcut through the uni campus one night, saw her about to become some fledge's meal. I dusted 'im, but the strange thing was, she hadn't been struggling at all. She was going to just stand there and let him kill her, without a fight. So I started following her in the evenings, making sure she got back to the dorms all right. Remembered she'd not been spending much time with you lot lately, so I decided to find out why. She still insists she's not avoiding anyone, and that everything's just dandy.

"Thing is, near as I can tell, she's got it in her head somehow that you lot don't need her, and even that any research help she could provide is now replaced by the bloody Initiative. Now, I wouldn't be so sure about the kids, Rupert, but you and I both know that's not true. Problem is getting her to believe it."

"Might I ask why you took it upon yourself to help her?" Giles wondered.

"I was bored," Spike said pointedly, his expression making it clear that that was all the explanation he would be offering.

He wasn't about to tell the Watcher what he'd realised was the true reason he'd found himself drawn to the girl lately. She needed someone to help her, and he...well, he needed to be needed. He'd finally admitted to himself why he'd continued hanging around the Scooby Gang even after he'd stopped needing them to supply him with blood: he couldn't stand to be alone. He blamed Angel. Being deserted by his sire when he was still a young vampire, relatively speaking, and not even hearing from him for a century...well, it had an effect on Spike. He got through it then by immersing himself in Drusilla, who also fell apart at the loss of their sire and who needed someone she could depend on to keep her insanity from destroying her. So he spent decades making sure she fed, keeping her out of the sun. And then came Prague, and she truly needed him to protect her, when she was too weak even to hunt properly. Then Angel went and lost his sodding soul and took her away from him, driving Spike to help the Slayer just to get her back. Except it didn't work, and when she left him again--this time for someone who didn't even have a sire's hold on her--he completely fell apart, he had to admit. For the first time in his unlife, he was utterly, truly alone, and he found he simply couldn't deal with that. Now he wished he had made Willow do that love spell after all, since obviously torturing Dru into loving him again hadn't worked.... Then again, considering the way her spells seemed to backfire, perhaps he'd made the right decision.

But Dru had left him yet again, and even he had to acknowledge that she wasn't ever coming back. It was in hopes of taking his mind off her that he threw himself into the search for that bleeding Gem of Amarra; and he took up with Harmony in an effort to fill the void in his life by filling the emptiness in his bed. Needless to say, it hadn't worked. She was too vapid for his taste, and never really needed him anyway. The latter problem was obvious; twice he'd tried to go back to her, just to have someone, and both times she'd kicked him out. Which left him with no one to turn to but the bloody Slayerettes. Even mortal enemies were better than nothing; at least they gave him some way to define who he was, some other lives in which he knew he had a place, even if it was just as "that annoying git who's currently too pathetic to stake".

Now, though, hanging around them had paid off, because their general blindness and self-absorption meant that one of their own needed help, and he was the only person who knew. Which meant he was the only one who could give it; Willow needed him, whether she knew it or not, and after all these months of feeling lost, cast adrift, with no one to anchor him, Spike was not going to let her slip away. He wasn't about to let a minor detail like being natural enemies get in the way of finally having someone he could be important to; they might hate each other, but that was no reason they couldn't depend on each other, at least until he found someone else to fill that role for him, and she was able to take care of herself once more. Once that time came, once they no longer needed each other so desperately, there would be plenty of time to go back to doing his best to hurt her--but until then, their dislike for each other could be set aside, to their mutual benefit.

That didn't mean anyone else had to know, however. If they had any idea how much he needed any of them, he'd never hear the end of it. Giles could either accept his help with Willow on faith, or try to help her alone; it wasn't his problem.

Suddenly he realised the Watcher was speaking to him; ordinarily he wouldn't care, but since he came to the other man for advice, it wouldn't do to ignore him.

"...what it is you expect me to do," Giles was saying.

"Oh. Right. Well, Rupert, you could always start by showing the girl she's needed. I think right now it'd be best to start with that, and work on convincing her she's wanted later. That is, of course, assuming it's even true. Considering how easily she seems to have cut herself out of your little Scooby Club, she may actually have a point there...." he couldn't resist taunting, even though he knew that he was talking to the one person in their group who'd noticed Willow's absence, and even expressed concern.

Giles refused to rise to the bait, merely sending Spike a withering glare before returning his attention to the topic at hand. "That's all very well, but she ought to know how important she is to our efforts already. I can't think how to get through to her if she's convinced otherwise."

"Yeah, well, that's your problem, innit?" Spike shrugged. "I do know that if you make it obvious what you're trying to do, she'll just withdraw further. If she knows you're trying to help her, she'll never believe what you say is real. She'll just feel patronised, and you'll never get anywhere with the girl."

"And how do you know so much about what Willow's reactions might be?"

"Hey, I spent over a bleeding century with the epitome of the mentally unbalanced woman, I think I've learned a little about the subject."

"Ah, yes, Drusilla. You may have a point there. Though I don't quite think the comparison between her and Willow is a fair one."

"Think what you want, mate, but believe me, there's enough similarity right now for me to know what I'm doing here. Remember, I didn't have to come to you--but I thought, perhaps mistakenly, that you'd want to know, and help. Hell, I don't even have to be helping the girl at all, so if you do actually care about her, I should think you ought to be grateful to me, Rupert. But then, I can't be surprised you won't listen; not like you people aren't good at ignoring things you don't want to see...."

"All right, yes, you've made your point. Now was there anything else, or are you just going to stand there and be annoying?"

"Fine, do what you want. But when the little girl falls completely apart, don't try to blame it on me," Spike said before grabbing a bag of blood from the fridge and leaving to meet Willow.

Giles considered what Spike had told him, and despite the fact that he ordinarily would never accept the vampire as a reliable source, what he'd said meshed with Giles' own observations entirely too well. While he'd been concerned about Willow's repeated absences, he'd hoped Buffy was right and she was simply too busy with classes or needed a break from the Hellmouth. Yet if what Spike had said was true, there was indeed genuine cause for concern. But if Willow really had withdrawn so completely, Spike was probably right about not letting her know of his concern; unfortunately, that meant keeping it from Buffy as well, since there was no way to guarantee that she wouldn't inadvertantly do something to raise her roommate's suspicions. Briefly, he considered the possibility that this was all somehow just a plot on Spike's part to drive the girls apart, but he dismissed the idea. He couldn't see a way it would benefit him, and if he just wanted them at odds, there had to be simpler ways to do it. And though there was always the chance Giles was missing something, he couldn't risk being wrong about this.

The question remained, however: what could he do to help her? Bearing in mind the need to keep from even appearing insincere, he decided to start with the immediate, tangible need for her help researching. Glancing at his watch, he decided Buffy should be leaving for partrol at any moment; waiting another half hour to be safe, he dialed their number. For the first time, he was actually pleased to get the answering machine.

"W-Willow, it's Giles. I, I understand you must be quite busy with your classwork, and a-appreciate that you probably want to have friends and a life as unconnected to the Hellmouth as it's possible to be while still in Sunnydale, so I hadn't wanted to disturb you. But I'm afraid I must. We have a new demon in town, and I've spent several days going through all my books, without success. None of them contain any information on how to kill it. At this point my only hope is that there's something useful on the net, but you know how, how hopeless I am where computers are concerned. Please, if you could possibly make some time to help me, I would be extremely grateful. Please give me a call or drop by the flat and, and I'll give you what little I have been able to discover. Thank you for your help, Willow."

The only thing he could do now was wait, and see how she responded.

Willow noticed, unsurprised, that Spike was almost half an hour later meeting her than he normally was. She wasn't worried; it was only to be expected that he would grow tired of her. After all, her friends had--and Spike had never been included in that group. She was rather amazed he'd lasted this long; he'd certainly never made it a secret how much he detested her, but he'd been spending a lot of time with her the past few weeks anyway. Of course he would grow bored with following her around, and disappear.

It was another twenty minutes after she'd realised Spike hadn't turned up that Willow was ready to return to her room. She gathered her things, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment she felt that yet again she was being abandoned. Reminding herself that she didn't even like him, she left the library, determined not to care that someone who'd never even pretended to like her had left just like everyone else.

She had barely gone a block when she turned a corner and nearly ran into Spike. In response to his greeting, she simply looked up at him, expression as blank as she could make it. She'd never wanted him there, so she was absolutely not going to do anything that might cause him to pity her and keep hanging around even though he'd grown tired of whatever game he'd been playing lately. She simply wasn't. She was through with pity; it kept people around you too long, until their dislike turned to resentment, and after that everything just got Bad. Without speaking, she stepped around the vampire now blocking her path and continued on her way.

She refused to acknowledge when he turned around and caught up, falling in step beside her as if he'd always intended to walk her home that night. There was nothing to say, really. She wasn't going to try and make him feel bad for not coming to get her, but she didn't care to act like she hadn't noticed, either. A few times on the way he attempted to start a conversation, but she ignored him completely and eventually he stopped trying. When they reached her dorm, she went inside without so much as glancing behind her to make sure the door didn't catch him if he tried to follow. Weaving her way around the other students on the stairs, she finally reached her room and let herself in. Firmly closing the door behind her, she allowed herself to relax; alone at last.

She got ready for bed and settled down to try and get some reading done, but couldn't concentrate. There was a new message on the machine, and though she normally just left them for Buffy--all the calls were for her anyway--the power must have gone out sometime during the day, because the stupid machine had reset to that annoying "beep every ten seconds if there's a new message" setting. Knowing she'd never be able to sleep through it and that Buffy probably wouldn't be returning until the morning, if then, Willow sighed and dragged herself back out of bed to hit the "play" button.

Her automatic reaction was to tune out the message as it played, so it wasn't until the end that she realised it was actually for her, not Buffy. Surprised, she found herself playing it back a second time before she even knew she was doing it. As it turned out, though, it was nothing interesting; just Giles, needing his personal researcher again. Well, she'd given all that up. If he needed help, there were plenty of people who knew enough about computers to run net searches at the Initiative; it wasn't difficult. In fact, he'd probably find it much easier to work with those people; he wouldn't feel a need to worry about whether they'd try to use magic to take out whatever demon it was, and mess up. Maybe he didn't want to have to go to them for help, and that was why he was calling her instead, but he'd get over that soon enough. Trying not to let herself get upset about it, she erased the message, turned out the light, and crawled into bed, no longer having the heart to read first.

Several days went by, and Giles still heard nothing from Willow. He'd not seen Spike since that night, either, and while ordinarily he'd be grateful for that, not having anyone he could ask about her welfare only made him worry more. There was no reason to trust that, had something happened to her, Spike would bother telling him.

He left another message on the girls' machine, claiming that it must have malfunctioned, causing Willow not to get his initial request, but he didn't believe that. When this, too, failed to get a response, he resigned himself to paying a visit to Spike's crypt.

He went late one afternoon, hoping that at least it would be close enough to sunset that though the vampire would be home, perhaps he wouldn't actually be sleeping. Spike was not the most charming person under the best of circumstances; upon being awakened, well, Giles didn't want to make that mistake again.

Fortunately, his timing appeared to be good; Spike was already up and about. He glared as Giles entered the crypt, but after so long living in the same flat, it was easy to ignore. Glancing around--unsuccessfully--for some surface on which to sit that wasn't thoroughly coated in dust or mud, he gave up and decided to remain standing.

"Are you still seeing Willow?" he asked.

Spike smirked. "Why, Rupert, you make it sound so...sordid."

"You know full well what I meant. Are you?"

"Technically...yeah. Why?"

"I've called her twice and left messages on their machine explaining that I needed her help desperately, and not received any sort of response, even a simple 'I'm too busy'. Just what do you mean, 'technically'?"

"Damn. Not good," he sighed. "I'd hoped she'd at least acknowledge you.... As for what I meant, yes, I've been seeing her every night, walking her home as before, but for a while now she's been...different. She's withdrawn again, just when I'd started getting her to respond. Now she's back to completely ignoring my presence; it's worse than when this all started, since she won't say a word. She's no longer even giving off any 'sod off' signals. It's like I'm not even there; as far as she's concerned, I might as well be dead. And not in the still walking around sense, either."

"Oh dear. Well, you have to admit, she never exactly liked you; perhaps she would be more likely to respond to someone else?"

"I don't see her responding to you," he pointed out snidely.

"Yes, yes, point taken. But that doesn't get us any closer to helping Willow, does it?"

"Right. So. She's not opening up to someone she trusts, nor to someone who's still basically an outsider to your little group. I don't think a complete stranger would have any better luck, so I doubt there'd be much point in trying to force her to see a shrink...."

"Probably not," Giles agreed dryly.

"If we could just figure out why she withdrew again, what happened to reverse all the work I'd done up to then, that might give us a place to start."

"Have you any idea when she changed? There may have been a...a triggering event of some sort; perhaps I've heard the others talking about it."

"Let's see, it was...well, I think it was the night I ca--oh, bloody hell!" Spike exclaimed, suddenly grabbing the half-finished mug of blood he'd been drinking and throwing it against the wall. He began pacing and cursing, unlike Giles not even bothering to get out of the path of the fragments that went flying through the crypt as the mug shattered.

"I-if you could just, just calm down a trifle, Spike, and tell me what it is that has you so upset, perhaps we could--"

The vampire whirled around to face him. "You want to know, Rupert? Why we've got an even bigger problem on our hands now? I did it. And the best part is, I should've known better. All those years with Dru, you'd think I'd have learned not to do something so entirely stupid."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"It started that night, the night I went and told you Willow was in trouble. The night talking to you made me rather late going to walk her home. The night she gave up on waiting for me, then acted as if I wasn't even there when I found her."

"...and she thought you weren't coming, that you either didn't want to be with her or had forgotten," Giles concluded. "Just like she thought was true of her friends. I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're right, Spike. If that's the case, it's not going to be easy to convince her she's wrong. Damn." He thought for a while. "Well, since she can keep ignoring my phone calls forever, I shall drop by and ask for her help in person. At least with me standing there she'll have to acknowledge my request, even if she refuses to help. And from what you've said, it sounds as though even that would be a big step at this point."

Before Spike had a chance to reply, the door opened again and Buffy burst in. "Okay, Spike, what do you know about--Giles! What're you doing here?"

"Oh, uh, Buffy, yes, I was...was just, er...."

"Hitting me up for money he claims I owe him. Which, as I've said a hundred times, I don't have," Spike interrupted. "So, Watcher, you can just go off and do whatever you were planning to do after leaving here," he added with a significant glance towards the door. Giles got the hint and set off to find Willow while her roommate was occupied. He would have to trust that Spike would pretend to have whatever information Buffy had come for, and kept her busy long enough.