Spike strode through the streets of Sunnydale radiating a confidence and blatant happiness he hadn't known since those brief hours he'd been in possession of the Gem of Amarra. And in some ways, this week had been even better; thrilling though being invincible and expecting to kill a third Slayer had been, it had never given him this feeling of...glee. The reason for his current mood would probably have described it as "giddy". Hell, he kept wanting to start whistling or something. Good thing he managed to restrain the impulse; the broad smile that spread across his face whenever he thought about recent events was bad enough.

On second thought, sod his image; at the moment, he didn't care what random people thought. He was in love, and better yet, for the first time, someone loved him. Oh, sure, Dru had loved him in her way--for a while. But her heart had always belonged to their sire. This time...this time, it was different. He may not have been Willow's first love, but during his months in Sunnydale he'd seen enough to know she would never tell someone she loved them if it wasn't true. And she'd told him that, in so many words, just six days ago.

He'd also seen enough of how the loss of the wolf had affected her to know that she loved like he did, throwing all of her self into the other person. There was no way either of them could love two people at the same time, not with that kind of intensity. Which meant that she was over Oz at last, and her heart was free to be his alone. He could be her world the way she was already his. He still couldn't really believe it.

Which meant there was but one thing he could do: get back to her as quickly as he could, so he could resume basking in that look in her eyes, her shy but happy smiles. The way she made him feel.

He wanted to spend every second with her. The instant the sun went down, he'd headed to the Rosenberg house, glad that it was summer despite the shorter nights--things would have been a lot less pleasant if their relationship began while she was living at the dorm, with the Slayer. He hadn't wanted to leave her even for this short time, but hunger called, and she'd run out of blood. And as long as he was still branded a traitor by the local demon community, Spike didn't want Willow going anywhere near Willy's.

He turned onto her street, and against his will a bounce forced its way into his step. Mentally shaking his head in despair over what he'd turned into, he nonetheless was smiling as he approached Willow's. The porch was empty; she'd moved inside while he was gone, like he'd asked. The light was on in the living room, and he couldn't resist the temptation to observe her through the window before going in.

He drew close enough to make out the room, and the world came crashing down around him.

Willow--his precious Willow--was sitting on the couch. Sitting far too close for his liking was a man he'd never seen before. She looked about as happy as Spike had ever seen her; and as he looked on, unable to move, Willow's face lit up even more and she leaned over to embrace the stranger. He was a bleeding master vampire, yet all he could do was stand and watch as some human interloper's arms wrapped around the woman he loved so utterly.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. He'd only just found her, and she was supposed to be the one. The one who accepted him. The one who didn't wish he were someone else.

The one who loved him as much as he loved her.

He didn't know how long it was before he became aware of anything besides his own pain. Somehow without realising he'd backed as far away from the sight before him as it was possible to get without leaving the porch entirely. From this angle it was no longer possible to see through the window; vaguely Spike was aware that he should be relieved that at least he no longer had to watch, but he was still in shock.

He struggled to gain control of his emotions and figure out what he was going to do next. The only thing he was certain of at that moment was that there was no way he'd be able to keep his temper in check if he went in there and confronted the bastard. And with that sodding chip in his head, all he could do was cause a scene, and all that would accomplish was letting Willow know how much she'd hurt him. If she'd changed her mind already, there was no need for her to see just how deep his own feelings already ran. He still had his pride, if nothing else.

The problem with that plan was that the one possession he truly cared about was currently in the house with them. Before he'd left for Willy's, Willow had convinced him that anyone seen wearing a long leather coat in the middle of a California heat wave was guaranteed to attract the kind of attention a defenseless vampire could ill afford. She could throw him aside like so much rubbish and there wasn't much he could do about that, but there was no bloody way he was leaving his duster behind. So, he decided, he'd sit out here until the ponce had left, then sneak in, grab it, and leave again before he gave in to the temptation to confront Willow. Even if he had to sit there all night to do it.

He settled down on the floor and leaned back against the porch rail to wait. An hour went by, then another. He tried to think of anything other than what he'd seen, hoping to block out the pain for as long as he could, but his thoughts kept coming back torment him. Why did things like this keep happening to him, why did everyone he ever loved decide he wasn't good enough? Why didn't Willow want him anymore? Why hadn't Dru, or--any of them? Why did everyone always leave him alone?

Of course, he thought, his expression darkening further, why wouldn't they? Nearly a hundred and fifty years he'd been around, demon and human, and in all that time not a single bloody person had ever really cared about him at all. They couldn't all be wrong; so why would Willow be any different? Clearly there was something wrong with him, something that made it impossible for anyone to ever love him.

Well, they could all just go straight to Hell for all he cared. That's right, he decided, sod the lot of 'em; from here on out, the Big Bad would be the Lone Wolf for real. No more of that mushy stuff for Spike; just murder, mayhem, and--migraines. Bugger. So it'd just be him, all alone, without even the fun of ripping girls to shreds the way they'd done to him.

He scowled. Let her, he thought. If she wanted to tear his heart out and stomp all over it, she could have the damn thing. He sure as hell didn't need it; what the hell did the sodding thing ever get him, anyway? Sod all, that's what. So he was done with it all, through caring about anyone but himself.

But bloody hell, it hurt.

Why couldn't she have just flat out told him she didn't care in the first place, instead of making him believe that she actually felt something, that at last he didn't have to be so bleedin' alone? That whole week was probably just a huge joke to her, some kind of set-up. She had to have known when he'd be getting back, which meant she wanted him to see her in that other bloke's arms. Probably expected him to burst in and try to rip him apart. Must've thought it would be a good laugh when the chip kicked in. Well, why should he give them the satisfaction?

The Big Bad didn't let mere mortals manipulate him.

Of course, it seemed to be a bit late for that....

As the shock began to wear off, Spike's natural restlessness made doing nothing but stare at the door increasingly difficult. His eyes wandered over the porch furniture; it seemed after that sod inside had arrived, Willow had left the books she was researching from behind when going indoors. Realising there was a way he could vent some of his feelings after all, he grabbed her notebook and pen, and began to write.

He scribbled off and on throughout the night, as some of the thoughts and emotions and accusations besieging him demanded an outlet. More than once, he had to start over, as his anger got the better of him and he ended up tearing the paper to shreds, since he couldn't do the same to that man inside.

He was such a fool. Why had he ever believed her when she said she returned his feelings? He should've known better. But she was smart; she knew exactly how to work him. That was probably why she'd conned him into leaving his duster; she knew he would never leave it behind, so she was holding it hostage, thinking she'd lure him in and get her jollies that way. Well, he'd show her. He wasn't setting a foot in that house until the guy was gone.

Why hadn't he gone?

It was only an hour till sun-up and he was still in there. They'd been together a week and she still hadn't let Spike spend the night. Too soon, she said. Wasn't ready, she said. So fine, he did the considerate, gentlemanly thing and didn't push her. Not ready? Bollocks. Just part of the act. Shoulda just pressed her a little; she didn't care about him, why the hell should he have cared what she wanted?

Ironic, wasn't it? The one time since being a vampire that he tried to do the right thing and he still ended up getting screwed. And not in the good way, either.

Eternities had passed, and still Spike waited. The sky began to lighten. Knowing now how all this was going to end, he allowed the notebook to fall from his hand as he leaned his head back to rest against the railing, resigned. The emotional turmoil of the night left him drained; instead of enjoying the sunrise, he merely gazed blankly at the line of light as it crept towards him.

Willow woke slowly, with a vague feeling that something was wrong. Then her stiff back forced its way into her still-fuzzy brain, and she remembered: she'd fallen asleep waiting for Spike to return. She opened her eyes to see that she was still curled up in the armchair she'd settled in after showing her cousin Dan to the guest room. A smile crossed her face as she relived the surprise of answering the door to see him standing there. They'd spent much of the evening catching up; he'd been so happy for her when she'd told him about being in love again at last.... She'd been looking forward to introducing them.

Eventually, though, Dan grew too tired to wait any longer and went to bed. She'd continued to sit up until, apparently, falling asleep, and she was a little surprised that Spike hadn't moved her whenever it was he'd come back from Willy's. She didn't expect him to wake her--as she'd been discovering, he could be very sweet in that way--but surely he could've just carried her upstairs and laid her on her bed! Unless having been a vampire for so long made him forget that people with actual circulation found sleeping all night in a chair less than comfortable. Always possible, she supposed.

Then she realised that the light was still on, and worse yet, his duster was still lying over the back of the couch, where she'd put it after convincing him it would make him too conspicuous. Spike adored that coat; he would never have left it behind when he went home for the day. Which could only mean that he'd never returned from his blood run; had Willy's other patrons ganged up on him again?

She felt the panic beginning and tried to force herself to think logically. Simply running off to check the back alleys would resolve nothing; if he'd been beaten too badly to move, he was probably dust already--a thought, she realised too late, that was hardly reassuring. She told herself that he was probably fine, and had been able to get himself to shelter somewhere before sunrise; in which case she'd never find him. Nevertheless, she was determined to go search for him as soon as Dan was awake.

In the meantime, she would bring her books in from the porch and try to continue the research that had been interrupted the night before.

She began gathering her things together, but couldn't locate her notebook and pen. She even picked up the seat cushions, but found nothing. With a frown, Willow started searching all over the porch. She found them over near the edge, amidst scraps of what must have been several sheets of paper. Funny; she couldn't remember tearing any of her notes up. Shrugging, she picked up the notebook and was starting to close it when the handwriting caught her eye: it wasn't hers.

Curious, she took a seat and began to read.