Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, etc. I'm only playing with them.

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Chapter Two - Mating Dance

"It's late. Are we going to patrol?"

Stirred from his thoughts, Spike looked at the robot, standing at the foot of the bed expectantly. The sense of loss, always surprising despite its constancy, struck him hard. It looked so much like her, especially now that he had gotten it the right clothes. It was wearing a blue tank top and black leather pants over high-heeled boots. The outfit had belonged to the Slayer herself, increasing the resemblance and twisting the knife that much further into his chest. The reprogramming that Willow had done for the battle had been overridden again when he had taken the robot back to Warren for repairs, but it still sounded more like Buffy than she had before. It was exquisite agony to be with this Buffy-like creature and know that the real Slayer was dead. He kept it as much for torment as for pleasure now. Of course, he mused as it bent over to pick up the bag of stakes, there was a fine line between the two.

"Coming, pet." Spike forced himself to get out of bed, running one hand absentmindedly through hair already mussed. He pulled on the nearest pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt. He sat on the bed and pulled on his boots. Funny how even the mundane act of dressing could be taxing some days. He stood with a grunt, grabbing his duster off of the chair where he had laid it earlier. The robot was watching him with unabashed admiration, and he grimaced.

"Let's go, Spike. Let's go slay demons," the Buffybot said cheerfully, and he moaned as he followed. Idly he wondered if its programming would allow it to stake him if he ordered it to. He should have asked that wanker Warren when he had the chance.

"You remember the rule, Buffy," he cautioned as they walked out of the crypt. It turned and gave him a bright smile.

"Of course. Don't let my friends see me."

"That's right. No one must ever see you," he sighed. It turned to him and cocked its head, looking almost puzzled.

"Except you, Spike." He reached out and stroked the side of the lifelike face, shivering with a combination of revulsion and lust. It closed its eyes and leaned its face against his hand.

"Yes, luv. Except me."

*****

Xander hesitated outside the Magic Box. It would be the first time he had seen Anya since their break-up, and he wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to hurt her anymore. Seeing him would probably hurt her. On the other hand, if she thought he was avoiding her, would that make it worse? He wanted her to still count on him if she needed him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his way through and saw Anya was not at the counter. He felt no sense of relief, because Willow was there instead. That was worse.

She looked up and saw him, her face reddening. She looked away quickly, but they both knew it was too late to pretend he'd never been there. Xander walked over, sat next to her at the counter just as he had with Anya a few days earlier, and forced a smile onto his face.

"Hi." Willow managed an awkward smile in return.

"Hey." Silence. Xander thought of all the times he had sat in total silence with his best friend, and how it had never bothered him before. Now the silence felt stifling and oppressive. A question popped into his mind and he seized it gratefully, asking in a rush.

"Tara, is she...?" Willow gave him a more genuine smile now, and he relaxed a bit seeing the hope in her eyes.

"Better, actually."

"You found a spell?" She hesitated for a moment, and Xander got the distinct feeling that Willow had something important to tell him. But she simply shook her head.

"Not yet. I think I'm close, though."

"Oh. Good. That's good." The silence started again, and Xander continued speaking just to avoid it. "Very, very good."

"Xander, I hate this."

"Me too."

"Why are we so...meh...now? You're the best friend I have. Since forever. Why is this so hard?"

"I don't know. I know I don't want it to be. I miss you, Will."

"Me too. Miss you, I mean."

"What do we do? You've always been the smart one, Will. How do we fix it?"

"We do this," Willow said, and pulled him into a hug. Xander wrapped his arms around her. The act was so simple, yet healing for both of them. Both held on as if their very lives depended on it. Xander kissed the top of her head tenderly. Tears shone like diamonds in her eyes as she smiled up at him.

"I said it, you're the smart one," Xander said, his voice husky. "Are we okay?"

"We're getting there, I think. It's still hard, Xander. I keep turning around and Buffy's not here...it feels wrong."

"I know. I miss her, Will. I don't think I'll ever not miss her. But before it was you and me and Buffy, it was you and me, right?"

"Right."

"And no matter who comes into our lives, or who goes out of them," Xander paused to try to swallow the huge lump in his throat.

"We'll be together," Willow finished. "Always, Xander. You know how I feel about you. I really love you, you goof." She engulfed him in another hug, so she didn't see the look on his face when she added, "You are my very best friend. Promise me we'll talk if we ever start to not talk again, okay?"

If she had seen his face, she would have recognized the expression on it. It was the one he had worn countless times in high school, when Buffy had called him friend. It was the look of a man resigning himself to the idea that his romantic feelings were not returned by the woman he loved. He finally had faced it: Willow was the woman he really loved, the one he wanted to spend his life with. And it was never going to happen, because she was in love with someone else. He wasn't even the right gender anymore. What made it worse, he couldn't even hate Tara. He liked the blonde witch. And she was good for Willow. Xander knew he had no choice here. He had to hide these feelings before she could see them. He had just gotten her back in his life and he wasn't going to risk losing her for good. He buried his face in her hair, the familiar scent bringing a bittersweet smile to his face.

"I promise. You promise?" he said, his voice muffled by her hair.

His mouth was close enough to her ear that a long-forgotten memory [Can I kiss your earlobe?...No...oh, okay...no! Pez!] surfaced. She pulled away from him, searching his face for signs of...what? She wasn't even sure herself, but something that meant there was something else happening here, more than the reparation of a friendship.

Willow told herself she was relieved to see Xander's 'you're my best pal' look. If there was a small part of her that was disappointed, she wasn't going to acknowledge it. They had been down that particular road, and that way lies madness. She wasn't going to jeopardize her future with Tara over some momentary flare of nostalgia. That decided, Willow smiled at Xander with confidence.

"As sure as the cat dusts on Thursday." After a moment of stunned silence, Willow put her hand to her head as if to ward off a headache. Xander gave a puzzled laugh.

"What?"

"Oh, that...that's a kind of sacred vow, it's, ummm...Egyptian! Cause, you know, cats...I may have gotten the translation wrong," Willow babbled, her heart beating very fast. Tara's madness had infected her. For just a second, but she was back in control. Fortunately, Xander seemed to be buying her weird excuse.

"Sounds like you got Buffy to translate it," he remarked nostalgically. Silently they remembered their fallen friend. Willow gave him a small sad smile and he instinctively he reached out to stroke her cheek tenderly. "Hey, you okay?"

"Little headache. No big," Willow replied softly. For a moment she wanted to tell him everything, but she pushed the impulse aside. She could control this, she told herself. It was only a moment, and it wouldn't happen again. Xander saw her small frown and guessed the cause.

"Nuh-uh. It's Tara, right?" Xander's tone was so knowing, Willow began to panic until he continued, "I know you're worried. The cure is out there, we'll research and we'll find it." The enthusiastic hug Willow gave him was equal parts love and relief, but Xander didn't know that. He only knew when she pulled away from him that she was smiling her most Willowy smile. His resolve to do anything to make her happy was affirmed. He would help her find a way to help Tara. Even if that meant he had to let her go when all he wanted was to hold her forever.

"Thanks, Xander. You're the best," Willow breathed. Xander nodded, effecting a superhero pose, and she punched him in the arm, giggling. He rubbed his arm, exaggerating his nonexistent pain. She rolled her eyes at his silliness. His breath caught in his throat. She was too beautiful for words.

"I better get going, okay?" His resolve was rapidly crumbling, and he knew he had to make tracks. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and he grinned. The grin didn't leave his face until he had walked out the door. Then he buried his face in his hands.

"Trouble, Harris. You're in big, big trouble."

******

Anya sighed, absently stirring her drink. The Bronze was showcasing a new band and it was packed to the rafters. She didn't think she'd ever seen so much of humanity in one place before, but being in this crowd only underscored how lonely she felt.

So far her efforts to make new friends had pretty much been a wash. She tried at first to meet people that shared her interests, but it wasn't working out. The bank teller seemed nice enough, but started giving her very strange looks when she kept talking about the money, up until the moment the security guard had gently escorted her from the premises. Her helpful suggestions to M.A.D.D. about possible punishments for drunk drivers went over just about as well. So now she was sitting at a bar, a pathetic cliche of a newly single woman, nursing a drink and mentally plotting the vengeance she would have wished for if Anyanka came to her right now. If Anyanka was someone other than her, that was. The alcohol was confusing her thoughts and not making her feel any better, she realized with a sigh as she rose from the sofa. She was ready to get out of-

<WHOMP-splash>

The collision knocked her back onto the couch, liquid soaking the front of her dress. This was the perfect end to the evening, she sighed, looking up at the stranger standing with the empty glass and the apologetic expression.

"I am so, so sorry. I am the clumsiest guy in history. I can't believe I did that...and you're wet! I got you wet. It's just water...I hope that I haven't ruined your dress. Oh, dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear I am so sorry. I already said that, right? Sorry."

Anya barely heard the string of babble. She'd never seen a man like this before. He was good-looking, to be sure, but it was more than that. Something about him felt different. Felt somehow...dangerous. Attraction with an edge of fear. It was exhilarating, and immensely appealing.

He was still standing over her uncertainly, and Anya made a decision. She reached her hand up and he pulled her to her feet, brushing at the water on her dress with a napkin. Every touch sent a shiver through her. Seeing her trembling, he frowned in worry.

"Oh, no. You're cold! You're freezing. You're going to get hypothermia and die, I read about that, hu...women get that when they get too cold! And it's my fault!"

"I'm not cold," Anya said, grabbing his hand and laying it on her chest brazenly. "See? Not cold. I'm Anya." He was frozen in shock for one electrified moment, then he licked his lips nervously and smiled. He ducked his head shyly, but didn't move his hand.

"I'm C-Cas. Cas Harvey. It's good to meet you, Anya. What h-happens now?"

"I need to get out of these clothes," Anya said. Anticipation and nervousness battled for control of the butterflies that were assaulting her stomach. "Because I'm all wet. I mean my clothes." His hand began lightly tracing down the soaking front of her dress, and she shivered again. He moved in closer to her.

"Oh." His hands moved to her arms, then to her shoulders. Another step closer, now they were standing only inches apart. Anya tilted her head up. "What do I do?" he asked, then she brought her mouth up and met his. His hands slid down her back, eventually resting on her hips, while hers entwined in his white-blond hair. The kiss lasted several minutes before they broke apart, gasping.

"Oh," Anya sighed breathlessly. *Xander!* her mind whispered, then was silent. It was over between her and Xander, right? She was free to kiss, or...

"Are you okay?" Cas asked, his hands still resting lightly on her hips.

"Let's go," Anya replied huskily. Cas gave her that shy smile that sent her heart racing. A sudden thought occurred to her and she motioned for him to wait. Reaching into her purse, Anya took out a cross on a long chain and handed it to him. "Wear this, please." Looking bewildered, he slipped the chain over his head, the cross coming to rest the thin cotton of his shirt. Anya impatiently lifted it and tucked it under his shirt, smiling in approval when there was no hiss of burning flesh.

"What was that about?" Cas asked. Anya just smiled and took his hand.

"Just needed to make you wear protection," she answered as she dragged him out of the Bronze. Neither one of them saw the silvery woman stand and watch them go. Her face a mask of icy satisfaction, Ostara faded into the multitude of youth and vanished.

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