"Hey," a voice whispered from the corner.
Willow automatically began to look up, then quickly buried her head deeper into the tome. Ignore him, just ignore him, Buffy's voice reminded her from somewhere in her psyche. What was she doing in there anyway?
"Hey, Red, c'mere,"
He sure was persistent, you had to give him that. Willow was finding it very difficult to concentrate on her book, 99 Ways to Spice Up Your Potions. The back cover proclaimed, "You'll say – WOW!" Willow had yet to be wowed, and promised herself to never again spend more than $15 on a book found in the Occult section at Wal-mart.
What if it was real this time? What if the ropes were cutting off the circulation to his arms, or, God forbid, he had to, you know, go? Do vampires even do that? she wondered anxiously. An outside observer might think that Buffy was the one in the gang with the hero complex, but it was Willow who had issues about helping. Whether it was a kitty stuck in a tree or a vampire tied to a chair, she needed to do something, couldn't stand seeing anyone or thing in pain.
What was Buffy thinking, leaving her alone with Spike? She knew very well that Willow wouldn't be able to control herself if Spike so much as gave her the old puppy-dog eyeball, never mind started to beg. Why did Giles have to take a nap now of all times?
Ok, ok, ignoring now, Willow thought, and flipped aimlessly through her book.
"Willow," Calling.
"Wi-llow," Sing-song.
"Oi! Red!" Demanding.
"What!" Willow snapped, slamming her book shut. This seemed to alarm Spike slightly, or maybe just humor him. For whatever reason, he was quiet enough now. Willow stared him down like she didn't have an eyelid in the world. Spike blinked, and smiled slightly. Willow returned to her book. Buffy would have been proud, she was sure.
"Hey Will, would you loosen these knots? The rope is really starting to chafe,"
Willow licked her finger and turned a page. Keepin' it real, as Xander would say. Well, he probably said it once.
"I don't think so, Spike."
He snorted resignedly.
"Yeah, neither did I,"
Yet another contemplative pause.
"You've got spunk, Red," Spike said.
Willow fidgeted.
"Welcome to non-sequitur land," she replied, feeling slightly muddled.
He grinned.
That's why – " Spike looked around quickly, and Willow was sure that he would have raised one hand to his mouth in a confidential 'don't-tell' gesture, had his arms not been tied behind the chair.
"That's why you're my favorite Scooby," he whispered, as though afraid Giles might hear and get his feelings hurt.
Willow frowned, that strange feeling rising up in her chest again. Was it… disgust? Discomfiture? Pleasure?
"No I'm not. You don't even have a favorite Scooby. You hate us all," she pointed out, a tad uneasily.
Spike grinned. It was akin to the smile a spider would give a trapped mosquito. At least, if spiders had teeth, or lips, or light grey eyes that always seemed to glimmer with amusement, or that lean yet muscular frame –
Willow began to realize just how far that thought had strayed from its primary intentions, and wondered how her well-meant metaphors always seemed to turn out wrong. Very, very wrong, she reminded herself sharply.
Still, she could imagine his (pearly white) teeth elongating, sharpening, and attaching themselves to her jugular with disconcerting ease.
"True," Spike admitted, with a constrained shrug. Willow jerked back to reality, which was Giles's living room with a loosely bound and vehemently bloodthirsty vampire.
Spike cocked his head.
"But if I did, it would be you,"
Willow smiled helplessly. Hey, a compliment's a compliment, she consoled herself. I'll take them where I can get them.
"That's my girl," Spike coached. "Now, love, how about untying me?"
Typical.