Things That Go Bump in the Night

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Chapter Six
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Willow darted wary looks between the two males facing her in Spike's crypt. Spike was silent now, though she had to admit that when he'd lunged at her, she'd been absolutely certain she'd really screwed up this time, and he was going to kill her.

"I *knew* it was you, Willow," the dark haired stranger accused angrily. "What is it with you and trying to bloody screw up my unlife?"

Blinking in confusion, Willow slowly backed up. "Do I know you? How do you know who I . . . Wait! Y-you're a vampire?" As quickly as that, the stake in one of her hands was offset by a cross in the other. She just wished she could stop shaking. Her stance would definitely be more impressive if she wasn't suddenly scared out of her mind.

"No, Willow, I *was* a vampire!"

**What?** She turned to look hopefully at Spike. He'd backed himself behind the sarcophagus, and hadn't said a word since he'd tried to attack. Something was wrong with him, and she just knew it was her fault. She frowned. He didn't look sorry or scared . . . **Yeah right. Spike. Scared of *you*. Dream on.** But he was way too silent. "Spike? What's going on here?"

"I'm over here, *Pet*."

Willow shook her head. "No, that's not right." She'd seen a lot of things here on the hellmouth, but she wasn't taking *this* at face value. No way. "I may not be the w-wisest person in the world, but I'm *not* gullible, Spike," she said growing angry. No way was Spike, and whoever his friend was, going to pull this one over on her.

"Spike," Spike hissed, much to her astonishment, "if she could do this to us, maybe it's not such a good idea to piss her off."

Willow and the dark haired man both turned incredulous looks toward Spike.

"Well, lookee who's gotten hold of their temper. Weren't you the one who was just scrambling up here to wreak havoc?"

Spike glared at his friend, and Willow took advantage of that distraction to begin inching back toward the still open door of the crypt.

"Maybe I'm actually using my brain. She's probably the only one who can reverse what she's done to the two of us."

Willow froze. "Okay," she said uneasily, "that's *definitely* not the Spike *I* know. Wait a minute. Do *what* to the two of you?" She turned back toward the still nameless man. "I didn't do *anything* to you," she said firmly, then darted a quick look back at Spike. "Did I?"

"You most certainly did," Spike replied dryly. "I suppose I should remember my manners and introduce myself," he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stepped around the sarcophagus and toward her.

"I-introduce yourself?" Willow asked nervously, several mental images of what Spike could mean flashing through her mind. "W-what do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said," Spike replied with exaggerated politeness, going so far as to bow to her. "I'm Adam--Adam Pierson, and *you*, I take it, are Willow?"

She nodded uneasily, and despite her earlier assurances to herself, clasped the hand held out in front of her. "Goddess," she breathed, "what have I done *now*?"

The dark haired man--Spike, if she were to believe the two of them--took two quick steps toward her, his features distorted in plainly visible anger, then froze, his fists clenching at his sides. He took three deep breaths, letting each of them out very slowly.

"Spike?" Willow asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, *Pet*," he hissed, the nickname filled with venom. "Now, just what did you do tonight? And don't tell me nothing," he continued, taking one more step closer, "your being here, now, kind of makes that an obvious lie, ducks."

Willow shook her head vehemently. "Not this. I didn't do this!"

Spike took another step forward, glaring down at her.

She swallowed convulsively. **Dumb Willow, really dumb. You shouldn't have let him get so close.** "I swear!"

A growl from Sp-Adam made her jump, and she let of a scared squeak.

"This is getting us nowhere," Adam spat angrily, suddenly tensing, visibly holding himself back.

It was odd watching Spike's body echo what Spike had done just moments before--freaky, actually. Willow watched, half in fascination, half in horror, as Adam fought to control Spike's demon face. "I'm s-sorry," she whispered.

"Change us back," Spike demanded, "now!"

"I d-don't know how," Willow protested, her eyes never leaving Adam's changing ones. "I'll have to figure out what went wrong first."

Adam slumped, looking utterly defeated, and Willow couldn't help but feel even worse. She hadn't meant to hurt anyone. She'd only wanted to help. "I'm so sorry," she repeated.

"Well, ducks, that doesn't do us much good, does it?"

*****

Angel sat in the back of Cordelia's car, and between feeling fear for Willow's safety and anger at Spike, he was feeling grateful he was already dead. Cordelia's driving was something to be feared. He certainly didn't envy Doyle's front row view. The thing was, he wasn't certain just why the switch in drivers had taken place. When they'd pulled up in front of Angel investigations, Doyle had been drivi
"
"What *exactly* did you see, Doyle?" he asked finally, again, actually.

Cordelia sighed. He ignored her.

Doyle turned, his face set in resignation. "Like I told ya that last three times you asked--all I saw was Spike attacking a red haired female. It looked like it was in a crypt of some sort. I got the name Willow.

Angel nodded, sighing himself. What had made his Childe go back to Sunnydale? As far as he knew, Spike hated that town almost as much as he hated his Sire. Until Cordelia had called to tell him to pack for this trip, Angel he would have been willing to swear that nothing would have dragged Spike back there.

"What the hell is he up to?" Angel asked, more of himself than of his companions.

Doyle rolled his eyes. "Probably the same thing any vampire wants, well, exceptin' you, of course."

Angel shook his head. "No. Spike almost never does anything without a plan," he replied, then somewhat unwillingly a corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Of course, he almost never has the patience to see it through properly. That has always been--" Nearly growling, angel shook himself out of his reverie. "He would not attack one of Buffy's friends *just* for a meal. Without some kind of plan, it would be suicide--and he *knows* that."

Angel did chuckle then. "Buffy's kicked his ass more than once."

Doyle nodded at him, and Cordelia snickered. Both men turned to look at her.

"What? I was just thinking that one of those times was even when he was 'invincible'." She giggled again. "She managed to 'kick his ass' *while* he was wearing the Ring of Amara. How else could she have gotten it from him?"

Both men chuckled, before Doyle dissolved into fits of laughter. If Angel had been in a more offensive mood, he would have described the sounds as giggles.

"I admit it was funny Doyle, but it wasn't *that* funny," Cordelia said giving the Irishman an odd look.

"I was just thinking."

"About?" Angel asked, intrigued.

"His face. I'd be willing to bet it *really* pissed him off."

And for several precious moments the fear of earlier was temporarily forgotten as laughter reigned.

*****

Giles set down his tea and continued putting up the dishes. Tonight had been a quiet night, the kind that occurred all too rarely here in Sunnydale. The hellmouth usually saw to that. He sighed softly as the last dish was put away, and taking his tea, he wandered into the living room, looking forward to a night filled with the simple pleasure of reading *just* to read.

There was no impending apocalypse to research, no new demons to figure out how to kill, no new *anything* to prevent him from relaxing. He sighed again as he sank down into his favorite chair. In a word, he was bored--bored out of his bloody mind.

The quick staccato knocking on his door brought him up and out of his chair instantly, both worry and relief warring for prominence. He was at the door in seconds, pulling it open. He frowned.

"I think I'd rather be bored," he said tonelessly.

"May we come in, Giles?" Angel asked.

Giles hesitated.

"It's important."

"It always is," Giles replied dryly as he stepped back and waved angel inside. He was followed by a man Giles didn't know and, to his surprise, Cordelia chase. "Cordelia! It *is* a pleasure to see you."

Cordelia flashed a brilliant smile at him. "Thank you, Giles," she replied, moving into the room. "I wasn't sure how everyone would react to my being here."

"Well, I certainly cannot speak for everyone, but I, for one, am happy to see you again--and apparently doing *very* well for yourself." Closing the door behind his unexpected guests, Giles raised a questioning eyebrow. "You said it was important, Angel?"

Angel nodded. "Where's Willow?"

Giles' eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"She's in danger."

"And you would know this because?"

The young man spoke up. "I saw Spike attacking her in a vision."

**Ah,** Giles thought, *Doyle, Angel's seer.** "Well, I really don't know why you would have. Spike cannot hurt her. Howev--"

"What?" exclaimed three very loud, very incredulous voices.

Giles snorted. "That's right, I forgot you don't know what happened."

Angel frowned. "What do you mean, 'what happened'? And why aren't you more concerned about Willow's safety? Don't you care?"

"How dare you!" Giles snapped, angered beyond reason by Angel's challenge. "Of course I care!" he continued, crossing toward the phone. Stabbing the numbers quickly, he dialed Buffy and Willow's dorm room, preventing himself from saying more to Angel by only the thinnest threads of control.

It took him only a couple of moments to ascertain that Willow was not home. Buffy, of course, was not either. She was most likely out on patrol.

"She's not home," he said, leaving a quick message on their machine. He paused only a moment before calling Xander. At minimum, the young man would probably know Tara's number. That was something Giles had yet to learn.

"Hello, you're talkin' to the Xand Man."

"Xander, do you know where Willow is tonight?"

"Hey, G-man, she's probably at Tara's. I know she mentioned that she would be earlier today. Why? What's up?"

"It's probably nothing to worry about. Doyle, Angel's associate had a vision of her getting attacked by Spike."

"What!?" Xander exclaimed loudly, and Giles quickly pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Xander! Calm down. Call Tara's place, and if Willow is there, tell her to stay in tonight, please. Just in case there's something to this, Spike's never had an invite into Tara's that I know of."

"You got it, G-man. Then, I'm gonna--"

"Then, you're going to get over here," Giles interrupted, "nothing else. We don't know exactly what's going on yet."

Xander grumbled loudly for a couple of seconds before reluctantly agreeing, and Giles gratefully replaced the receiver.

He turned to find Cordelia directly behind him, glaring at him. He frowned again.

"Do you mind explaining a bit more about just why you don't *seem*, and I stress *seem*, more concerned about this?" she asked quietly. "Last I heard, Spike was still on the Scooby's top ten hit list."

Giles' eyebrows rose to his hairline. For Cordelia that was tact at its best. "Yes, quite. If you'll take a seat?" he requested. "This will take a bit."

Cordelia nodded, joining the two males already on the couch.

Taking a deep breath Giles began a quick, edited, explanation of the Initiative, and continuing on to the chip that had been placed by them in Spike's head. His three guests sat through it silently, each with ever-changing expressions that varied from disbelief and shock at the beginning, to settle somewhere between discomfort and outright horror near the end.

*****

Angel stared out the window, his emotions and thoughts in utter chaos. On the one hand, he was grateful he didn't have to worry about needing to stake Spike, and not needing to worry about who the younger vampire was hurting. On the other hand, the very thought of *anyone* being subjected to that kind of invasive experimentation, Spike included, left him feeling repulsed and slightly sick to his stomach.

The part of him that ruled his base instincts, the demonic part, howled at that outrage, and it was all he could do not to begin tearing the room apart piece by piece. When the silence behind him drew on long enough that it began to unnerve even him, Angel turned slowly to face the others. Some of what he saw surprised him.

Doyle's slightly green look he could understand. The Irishman might hate Spike with every fiber of his being, but these 'people' had targeted demons, and, according to Giles' explanation, they hadn't cared about whether or not the demons in question had actually been evil.

It was Cordelia's reaction he didn't understand. She looked faintly horrified, and, if he was any judge, appalled. Doyle was beside her, slowly rubbing her back, but she paid him no attention, staring resolutely across the room at -- nothing.

He quickly crossed to the couch, kneeling down in front of her. "Cordelia?" he asked softly.

She looked up at him, and he was surprised, yet again, to see a trace of tears in her eyes. His confusion must have shown, because she gave him a crooked, watery half-smile that faded all too quickly.

"It's no secret that I don't like spike," she said softly, shaking her head. When she continued a faint hint of sour amusement could be heard. "In fact, it's probably very safe to say I hate the son of a bitch."

Angel nodded, that's what confused him.

"But this? This, I wouldn't wish on anyone. It would be far more humane to simply kill him. This is . . . torture." Cordelia paused, as if searching for the exact words to express what she was feeling. "This is like putting raw meat just outside the cage of a hungry wolf -- and then not letting him have any. It . . . it's just . . . not right."

A strangled sound behind him made Angel turn toward the watcher. Giles had the oddest expression of . . . shock on his face.

"Yeah, I know Giles, I bet you never expected to hear *those* kinds of words come out of *my* mouth."

Giles blinked, quickly pulling his glasses off. "No, I'm sorry to say, I didn't," he said quietly, cleaning his lenses. "It shames me to admit that I never saw past your. . . ." Giles trailed off, obviously unable to find a tactful way to continue.

Cordelia laughed easily. "My shallow exterior?" she offered, quickly continuing as Giles' face reddened and he scrambled to put his glasses back on. "Don't worry. I know exactly what I was, *and* what I am. You weren't supposed to see anything else."

Before anyone else could respond, however, the front door burst open, causing everyone in the room to jump.

"G-man, Willow's not over at Tara's. Tara said she was going to visit Spike!" Xander's eyes widened slightly, but he made no comment on the surprising people in Giles' apartment.

"Shit," Damn," and "Oh, dear," exploded from three different mouths as each of them jumped into action, grabbing convenient weapons and jackets.

Xander bounced on his toes, waiting impatiently by the door. As they approached, finally ready, he spun around and reopened the door. "If spike has already attacked her, I am *so* going to stake his ass!" he muttered fiercely.

"What? Huh? Who has Spike attacked? He can't attack anyone--can he?" Buffy asked breathlessly, at the same moment Xander yelled, startled by her sudden appearance in front of him.

"Willow," he said shortly, slipping past the stunned slayer.

"Willow?" she squeaked, her arm darting out and grabbing Xander's, bring him to a sudden halt. "What are you talking about?"

Angel sighed. They didn't have time for this.

"I'm talking ab--"

"We're wasting time," Angel interrupted Xander, slipping past the two of them.

"A-Angel?" Buffy stammered.

He winced, but continued forward. There would have to be time enough later for that. Willow needed them now. Then he froze, resisting the impulse to blink to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. Willow, Spike, and a man he didn't recognize were striding down the side walk toward them, bickering angrily. What was strange about it, no one was attacking anyone else, and the angry words were just that -- words.

Buffy darted around him, and before he could react she was racing toward the unlikely trio.

"No!" Willow shouted, diving in between Spike and Buffy. "Don't. I did a really bad thing. Well, it was actually supposed to be a good thing, but it went all wrong, and now Spike isn't Spike, he's Adam, and Adam is Spike. And I don't know how I did it. So, if you kill Spike, you're really killing Adam, and that would mean I killed Adam, and he's innocent. Please, don't kill Adam, Buffy. I don't think I could live with myself."

Watching the scene unfold, Angel felt frozen in place. In front of Willow, Buffy blinked twice, and he heard a faint, confused, "Huh?" come from her.

"I'll second that, Wills," Xander called out from behind him. "Could you repeat that--in slow english, for those us coming into this in the last act?"

"Yes, please," Giles concurred.

Angel couldn't help but agree. Willow's babble hadn't made much sense.

Willow took a deep breath, but the dark haired man stepped forward and spoke first.

"*Willow* here, apparently cast some kind of spell. She hasn't told us what kind of spell yet," he said, directing a deadly glare at Willow, "but the gist of the matter is this; Adam," he waved vaguely in Spike's direction, "and I have switched bodies."

"Dear Lord!"

"And you believe this, Willow?" Xander asked harshly.

"N-not at first, Xander, no. But I do now." Willow looked to be near panic, and Angel almost stepped forward.

"How can you be sure?" Buffy asked softly, stalling Angel where he was.

"I just am," Willow replied. "Besides, we can cast a truth spell, and--"

"Truth spell?" Spike asked derisively.

Angel frowned. It certainly hadn't sounded like Spike. Besides, Spike wouldn't be downplaying the power of spells. He took a step nearer, and his eyes widened. It didn't *smell* exactly like him either. It was him, but there was something very . . . off also--something added.

Willow, having obviously put up with too many of 'Spike's?' put downs, spun around to face the blond. "Shut up! Yes, I said truth spell. Maybe you should open your eyes and see that just maybe you don't know *everything* there is to know."

'Spike, **No, Adam'.** Angel shook his head minutely. 'Adam' took an overly controlled step forward. "I have *never* claimed to know everything -- far from it, in fact. However, you cannot expect me to simply continue to--"

"Yes, I can!" Willow shouted.

"Alright, everyone. No one's been hurt, yet. Perhaps we should take this in off the street?" Angel suggested.

The stranger who smelled oddly familiar, **Spike?** stiffened and suddenly whipped his head toward Angel. "Bloody hell, Peaches," the man groaned. "When did *you* get into town?"

**Now *that* sounds like Spike.**