CHAPTER FIVE
"Nice set, guys. Great job, Spike. You should play with us more often." Jay said, packing up his bass.
"Oz, man. Lemme talk to you a minute." Greg told the stoic guitarrist, who nodded. The two stepped to the side.
"What's up?" Oz asked.
"Well, I think we should ask Spike to be a more permanent member of the Dingoes. We're lackin' a singer, he's pretty fricken good. And he writes. I think he's in."
"So why are you talking to me?"
"Oh come on, man! You started this group up with Devon, you call the shots. I mean, we should discuss this, right?"
"Spike. How about you become a little more of a permanent addition to the Dingoes?" Oz shouted across the room.
"Uh, sounds good." Spike replied.
Oz looked back to the drummer. "Piece of cake."
"Hey, where'd Max go?" Jay asked, looking around for the backup guitarrist.
"That's odd. He was right here a minute ago- oh." Spike said, motioning to Max talking to a busty brunette and a petite, shy looking redhead. The redhead was silent, and kept her eyes on the floor.
Oz's eyes widened when he saw the redhead, and a small smile spread across his face. The small, pale girl looked really nice, but also really uncomfortable. He had noticed her dancing while he was up onstage playing, and hadn't been able to tear his eyes away. Her friend casually spoke with Max, like she knew him.
Max turned to the others. "Guys, this is Amy and her friend Wilma."
"Willow." The redhead said softly, a little embarrased.
"Right, Wilma. Girls, this is Oz, Jay, Greg and our new singer Spike. So, Amy, can I get you a drink?"
Oz approached the redhead with caution.
"Hi, I'm Oz. Sorry about Max, he's kinda drunk all the time, even without the alcohol." Willow laughed a little too hard.
"It's okay. I-I'm Willow Rosenberg."
"Daniel Osbourne. Oz." He explained politely, recoiling a bit at the scent of alcohol on the student's breath.
"Nice to meet you, Ozzie." Willow giggled, holding out her hand and shaking his firmly.
"Uh, right. You too."
He was saved by a tap on the shoulder.
"I'm gonna be headin' out. Here's my cell number, gimme a ring when we're gonna practice. Thanks a lot, Oz." Spike told the shorter man, slipping him a piece of paper.
"Okay, thanks Spike. Bye."
~*~
Buffy looked around at the club, people still dancing on the floor. She sighed and swore to herself she'd never go clubbing again, even if she did attract a few fans begging for autographs.
She stood up, grabbing her purse and headed for the door. Once outside, she pulled her coat around her, shivering in the cool November air. She looked at the streets, wet with rain from the previous night. She craned her neck, trying to see if there was an open taxi. She saw one about to zoom by, and raised her hand in the air.
"Hey! Taxi!" she shouted, only to be ignored because of her height, or should we say, lack thereof, and her quiet voice. She groaned. "Taxi!" She tried again, raising her hand back up. "Ugh!" She stomped her foot.
"Need some help gettin' a cab, pet?" A familiar, low voice asked from behind her. She turned to see the blonde hottie standing behind her, and she felt a knot all of a sudden tighten in her gut and her knees buckle.
"Um, that'd be great, thanks." She said nervously, clutching her bag under her arm. You could never be too careful in New York. She decided to casually bring up the band-ness.
"So, um, you were in that band, right? Dingoes ate my baby?"
"Uh, yeah. Singer. Name's Spike." He said, extending his hand. His dark leather duster clung nicely to his biceps as he reached out that arm, Buffy noticed.
"Buffy." She smiled weakly. This guy's eyes could suck energy out of her!
"Well, Buffy, let's see about gettin you a cab, then."
~*~
Spike exited the club and walked out onto the wet pavement of the inner city street to see a petite blonde attempting (and fail miserably) to get a cab. Her shiny blonde hair reminded him of something one would see on a shampoo commercial. It lay in soft waves down her back, curling in just the right places. He saw her profile as she turned, and her cute, button nose, perfect complexion and nice hazel eyes got him entranced. Screw that bitchy track coach he'd met earlier, *this* was a hottie. And rather familiar. He'd watched her from the stage, he remembered, during 'Shadow on a Sun' by Audioslave.
Casually he sauntered up to the girl, who stomped her food down on the pavement angrily, accompanied by a "ugh."
"Need some help gettin' a cab, pet?" He asked softly. She turned, and Spike was blown away by the sight he saw. She was gorgeous. He saw her eyes widen a little at the sight of him, and watched her take in a shaky breath. He was grinning and patting himself on the back on the inside. 'That's it, man, keep it cool!' he told himself.
"Um, that'd be great, thanks." She said softly. He watched her arm clamp down on her bag cautiously, and he couldn't help but laugh inside.
"So, um, you were in that band, right? Dingoes ate my baby?" The girl asked casually, tucking a strand of that soft looking blonde hair behind one ear, staring at the ground, then flitting her eyes back to his own.
"Uh, yeah. Singer. Name's Spike." 'Idiot! Why'd you add on that singer bit? Makes you sound conceited. Oy, bitch, checkit, I'm a singer!' Spike kicked himself on the inside, shaking her hand.
"Buffy." She smiled.
"Well, Buffy, let's see about gettin you a cab, then." He smiled, noticing the effect he obviously had over the petite blonde.
"Thanks." She said again, as he stepped to the curb. He raised one arm.
"Taxi!"
A yellow cab pulled over to the curb. He turned and smirked at the girl, who shyly stood back.
"There you go, luv." He said, motioning to the waiting cab, licking his lips.
"Thank you. Nice meeting you." She said, moving towards the cab.
'Great idea, mate. Get the girl outta the scene. Bloody perfect. At least get her number.'
"Um, I know this is kind of stupid, and unorthodox, and I'll prolly wind up on the ground in tremendous amounts of pain, but I was wondering if I might see you sometime? Like I could maybe get your number? If no, then that's fine, I'll get out of your way, but-" Spaz much? He asked himself.
"Uh, sure. But first, what's your real name?"
"William Giles."
"Buffy Summers. Where'd you get the nickname?"
"You don't wanna know, pet." He assured her, watching her take a pen out of her pocket. She took his hand in her own two soft ones, and wrote her name and number on the back of his hand.
He smiled down at her.
"Thanks, luv. Mind if I give you a ring tomorrow?"
"Not at all."
~*~
The cab pulled over at Drea's apartment building. Drea turned to Angel as the cab halted.
"Uh, this is me." She said softly. He sat up.
"Oh, right."
The two awkwardly sat there, both of them wanting to just rush up to her apartment and fuck the other's brains out, but both of them also too shy, proud, or hesitant to make the first move. They just stared into each others eyes for a few minutes, until the cab driver turned around.
"Will somebody just get out and pay me already?"
They both laughed a little, and Drea pulled out a few small bills from her purse. She handed them to the driver.
"Uh, I feel really awkward saying this, but, do you wanna come up for a few minutes?" Drea offered.
Angel swallowed hard. It was so tempting to say yes. He hadn't gotten laid for quite some time, and this girl was obviously interested. What he didn't want was to feel like crap afterwards for taking advantage of the situation. He really liked this one, and didn't want whatever this was to be screwed up. He also didn't want to turn her down.
Drea unlocked her door, stepping in, and holding the door open for Angel to walk through. She closed the door behind her.
"Sorry the living room's a mess." She said, moving over to the coffee table where papers, a calculator, and various other things were scattered. "I'm just trying to put in averages and stats for the kids on my team." She knelt and started to organize the mess a little. She looked up to see Angel kneeling at the table, helping also.
"Thanks, you don't have to do that." She said.
"No problem." Angel said, looking at the papers breifly. "You coach at Livingston?"
"Uh, yeah. Heard of it?" She asked.
"Yeah, I had some friends going there when I was in high school. My cousin goes there. He didn't get in to the school I went to."
"Oh really? What's his name?"
"Connor McCarthy."
"You're kidding! He's on my winter and spring track teams. Fall he does soccer, but, wow, that's a coincidence." Drea swallowed. She was about to sleep with one of her athletes' cousins. This could turn out to be bad. Stop yourself, get him out of here! One part of her screamed. Another scoffed, saying, 'you nuts? This guy's on fire!' and yet another snickered at the irony, knowing that nothing more than tonight was gonna happen.
Drea and Angel finished straightening the stats.
"That's so strange. How's he do? Hope he doesn't cause much trouble."
"None at all, he's an angel. No pun intended. He's a great runner, actually. Almost beat the school record for the 800 meter last year and he was only a sophomore. He was like three seconds off."
"Yeah, he mentioned that. He's also talked a lot about you, now that I think of it."
"Really, what's he say?" Drea asked, sitting on the couch. Angel followed, smiling a little. "Oh, boy. Do I wanna know this?" She asked with a slight blushing smile.
"He's just always saying what a great environment it is, and how you really help out a lot of the kids with issues. Like you're a second advisor for them, somebody the other runners can count on."
"Aw, that's sweet of him."
"Yeah. Connor's a, a good kid." Angel paused, searching for the right words. Truth was, Connor was a good kid, with straight A's, wonderful sportsmanship and athleticism, but he tended to be not so good of a guy towards his family. He and Angel got along okay, but there was always some tension because of-
"So, anyway, um, can I get you anything?" Drea's voice broke Angel out of his moment of thought.
"Uh, no thanks, I'm okay." She nodded, but from the narrowed, suspicous looking glance she shot him, she suspected otherwise.
The two sat in an awkward silence for a few moments. Drea focused her eyes on the floor, and Angel focused his eyes on Drea focusing her eyes on the floor. She felt his eyes watching her. Something about this guy puzzled her, like she didn't quite know what to do. With anyone else she'd already be in bed with them by now, but Angel was just strangely different. They had talked for more than an hour and he hadn't run away screaming because she was a nutcase. He will eventually. Might as well get this over with, Drea thought.
Drea looked up, her startling green eyes meeting Angel's deep brown, leaned forward on the couch and kissed him deeply. At first, Angel was surprised, but then again, he shouldn't have been. After all, she had invited him up to her apartment, and that was almost a universal message sending off a radar saying "fuck me". Doubt crossed his mind as her tongue snaked into his mouth.
'Should I be taking advantage of her like this, or could it even be considered taking advantage of her if she was practically jumping me? Or wait, was she taking advantage of him? Shut up, brain, you're confusing me, Angel thought. Just concentrate on this gorgeous girl who just straddled your hips, oh holy shit that feels good...'
*Shit, am I coming on too strong? Is this gonna be something I'm gonna regret, since it seems like I could actually get along with this guy? Is this a good idea? I mean, he's obviously liking it... but do I really want this right now? Oh, what the hell am I doing? Giving him a hard on, obviously, but should I really screw this up by doing this so soon? I mean, I just met him. He's gonna think I'm a slut. He probably already does think I'm a slut. Am I a slut? I should stop this right now before it gets out of hand... speaking of hand, his just went up the back of my shirt. He probably wants to do this, so if I stop, he'll think I'm a tease. I guess since we're rounding second, we might as well run it on home.*
Angel pulled away from Drea's dominating mouth for a moment.
"Are you sure?" He asked huskily as she rubbed her hips against his groin.
"Are you?"
~*~
Back at Triple Threat, Amy and Max were really hitting it off. Jay and Greg had already left, leaving Oz and Willow sitting next to each other in a pretty strange conversation.
"Did you ever wonder why the monkey is the only animal cracker with pants?" Oz asked Willow, who giggled foolishly, but in a very cute way.
"Pfft! Noo. Why, did you?"
"Yeah. It's always been something that bugged me. I mean, doesn't the hippo or something get jealous? I mean it's like, 'hey, I've got my hippo pride and all, how come I don't have any pants?' and the monkey goes 'I mock you with my monkey pants!' and then there's a coup in the zoo."
This made Willow burst out in drunken and non-drunken laughter, meaning mainly that she would have laughed even if she was not drunk, but since she was in fact drunk, she laughed in a less controlled manner than when she was drunk. Which was now.
"You're funny! And you think a lot..." Willow said, smiling, patting Oz's arm. Oz smiled. She would be so great when she wasn't drunk.
"Thanks, Willow. You're pretty amusing yourself."
"Pfft! Noo!" Willow exclaimed for the second time that evening. "I'm like the most boring person EVER. I mean, all I really do is study and work and stuff for med school. It's like, it! Tha's it! Just studying Willow and studying Willow, no fun Willow. Tonight's like, the only night I've been out in aaages. I'm never like this." Willow admitted bluntly.
"I don't think that being a medical student is boring. Pretty cool on my radar."
"Yeah, you're in a band, being a student who studies illnesses and crap is REALLY interesting compared to tours and playing the guitar and meeting interesting people..."
"Well, I guess it's not so bad. I did meet you, after all."
Willow smiled and blushed, no scoffing this time. The small, stoic guitarrist smiled at the redhead. 'Wonder if I should ask for her number...'
AN: hehe. next chapter, next day, new verdicts. what do you want to see happen? i'll take everything into consideration... any character requests, additional info to giles' grand scheme of things, more of this, less of that, just lemme know in a review! all ya hafta do is click that little button on the bottom left of this and type in whatcha want. then click another button, and you make me happy and you get rewarded with e-cookies! (you can let me know if you want the e-cookies. when you review!) --emily
"Nice set, guys. Great job, Spike. You should play with us more often." Jay said, packing up his bass.
"Oz, man. Lemme talk to you a minute." Greg told the stoic guitarrist, who nodded. The two stepped to the side.
"What's up?" Oz asked.
"Well, I think we should ask Spike to be a more permanent member of the Dingoes. We're lackin' a singer, he's pretty fricken good. And he writes. I think he's in."
"So why are you talking to me?"
"Oh come on, man! You started this group up with Devon, you call the shots. I mean, we should discuss this, right?"
"Spike. How about you become a little more of a permanent addition to the Dingoes?" Oz shouted across the room.
"Uh, sounds good." Spike replied.
Oz looked back to the drummer. "Piece of cake."
"Hey, where'd Max go?" Jay asked, looking around for the backup guitarrist.
"That's odd. He was right here a minute ago- oh." Spike said, motioning to Max talking to a busty brunette and a petite, shy looking redhead. The redhead was silent, and kept her eyes on the floor.
Oz's eyes widened when he saw the redhead, and a small smile spread across his face. The small, pale girl looked really nice, but also really uncomfortable. He had noticed her dancing while he was up onstage playing, and hadn't been able to tear his eyes away. Her friend casually spoke with Max, like she knew him.
Max turned to the others. "Guys, this is Amy and her friend Wilma."
"Willow." The redhead said softly, a little embarrased.
"Right, Wilma. Girls, this is Oz, Jay, Greg and our new singer Spike. So, Amy, can I get you a drink?"
Oz approached the redhead with caution.
"Hi, I'm Oz. Sorry about Max, he's kinda drunk all the time, even without the alcohol." Willow laughed a little too hard.
"It's okay. I-I'm Willow Rosenberg."
"Daniel Osbourne. Oz." He explained politely, recoiling a bit at the scent of alcohol on the student's breath.
"Nice to meet you, Ozzie." Willow giggled, holding out her hand and shaking his firmly.
"Uh, right. You too."
He was saved by a tap on the shoulder.
"I'm gonna be headin' out. Here's my cell number, gimme a ring when we're gonna practice. Thanks a lot, Oz." Spike told the shorter man, slipping him a piece of paper.
"Okay, thanks Spike. Bye."
~*~
Buffy looked around at the club, people still dancing on the floor. She sighed and swore to herself she'd never go clubbing again, even if she did attract a few fans begging for autographs.
She stood up, grabbing her purse and headed for the door. Once outside, she pulled her coat around her, shivering in the cool November air. She looked at the streets, wet with rain from the previous night. She craned her neck, trying to see if there was an open taxi. She saw one about to zoom by, and raised her hand in the air.
"Hey! Taxi!" she shouted, only to be ignored because of her height, or should we say, lack thereof, and her quiet voice. She groaned. "Taxi!" She tried again, raising her hand back up. "Ugh!" She stomped her foot.
"Need some help gettin' a cab, pet?" A familiar, low voice asked from behind her. She turned to see the blonde hottie standing behind her, and she felt a knot all of a sudden tighten in her gut and her knees buckle.
"Um, that'd be great, thanks." She said nervously, clutching her bag under her arm. You could never be too careful in New York. She decided to casually bring up the band-ness.
"So, um, you were in that band, right? Dingoes ate my baby?"
"Uh, yeah. Singer. Name's Spike." He said, extending his hand. His dark leather duster clung nicely to his biceps as he reached out that arm, Buffy noticed.
"Buffy." She smiled weakly. This guy's eyes could suck energy out of her!
"Well, Buffy, let's see about gettin you a cab, then."
~*~
Spike exited the club and walked out onto the wet pavement of the inner city street to see a petite blonde attempting (and fail miserably) to get a cab. Her shiny blonde hair reminded him of something one would see on a shampoo commercial. It lay in soft waves down her back, curling in just the right places. He saw her profile as she turned, and her cute, button nose, perfect complexion and nice hazel eyes got him entranced. Screw that bitchy track coach he'd met earlier, *this* was a hottie. And rather familiar. He'd watched her from the stage, he remembered, during 'Shadow on a Sun' by Audioslave.
Casually he sauntered up to the girl, who stomped her food down on the pavement angrily, accompanied by a "ugh."
"Need some help gettin' a cab, pet?" He asked softly. She turned, and Spike was blown away by the sight he saw. She was gorgeous. He saw her eyes widen a little at the sight of him, and watched her take in a shaky breath. He was grinning and patting himself on the back on the inside. 'That's it, man, keep it cool!' he told himself.
"Um, that'd be great, thanks." She said softly. He watched her arm clamp down on her bag cautiously, and he couldn't help but laugh inside.
"So, um, you were in that band, right? Dingoes ate my baby?" The girl asked casually, tucking a strand of that soft looking blonde hair behind one ear, staring at the ground, then flitting her eyes back to his own.
"Uh, yeah. Singer. Name's Spike." 'Idiot! Why'd you add on that singer bit? Makes you sound conceited. Oy, bitch, checkit, I'm a singer!' Spike kicked himself on the inside, shaking her hand.
"Buffy." She smiled.
"Well, Buffy, let's see about gettin you a cab, then." He smiled, noticing the effect he obviously had over the petite blonde.
"Thanks." She said again, as he stepped to the curb. He raised one arm.
"Taxi!"
A yellow cab pulled over to the curb. He turned and smirked at the girl, who shyly stood back.
"There you go, luv." He said, motioning to the waiting cab, licking his lips.
"Thank you. Nice meeting you." She said, moving towards the cab.
'Great idea, mate. Get the girl outta the scene. Bloody perfect. At least get her number.'
"Um, I know this is kind of stupid, and unorthodox, and I'll prolly wind up on the ground in tremendous amounts of pain, but I was wondering if I might see you sometime? Like I could maybe get your number? If no, then that's fine, I'll get out of your way, but-" Spaz much? He asked himself.
"Uh, sure. But first, what's your real name?"
"William Giles."
"Buffy Summers. Where'd you get the nickname?"
"You don't wanna know, pet." He assured her, watching her take a pen out of her pocket. She took his hand in her own two soft ones, and wrote her name and number on the back of his hand.
He smiled down at her.
"Thanks, luv. Mind if I give you a ring tomorrow?"
"Not at all."
~*~
The cab pulled over at Drea's apartment building. Drea turned to Angel as the cab halted.
"Uh, this is me." She said softly. He sat up.
"Oh, right."
The two awkwardly sat there, both of them wanting to just rush up to her apartment and fuck the other's brains out, but both of them also too shy, proud, or hesitant to make the first move. They just stared into each others eyes for a few minutes, until the cab driver turned around.
"Will somebody just get out and pay me already?"
They both laughed a little, and Drea pulled out a few small bills from her purse. She handed them to the driver.
"Uh, I feel really awkward saying this, but, do you wanna come up for a few minutes?" Drea offered.
Angel swallowed hard. It was so tempting to say yes. He hadn't gotten laid for quite some time, and this girl was obviously interested. What he didn't want was to feel like crap afterwards for taking advantage of the situation. He really liked this one, and didn't want whatever this was to be screwed up. He also didn't want to turn her down.
Drea unlocked her door, stepping in, and holding the door open for Angel to walk through. She closed the door behind her.
"Sorry the living room's a mess." She said, moving over to the coffee table where papers, a calculator, and various other things were scattered. "I'm just trying to put in averages and stats for the kids on my team." She knelt and started to organize the mess a little. She looked up to see Angel kneeling at the table, helping also.
"Thanks, you don't have to do that." She said.
"No problem." Angel said, looking at the papers breifly. "You coach at Livingston?"
"Uh, yeah. Heard of it?" She asked.
"Yeah, I had some friends going there when I was in high school. My cousin goes there. He didn't get in to the school I went to."
"Oh really? What's his name?"
"Connor McCarthy."
"You're kidding! He's on my winter and spring track teams. Fall he does soccer, but, wow, that's a coincidence." Drea swallowed. She was about to sleep with one of her athletes' cousins. This could turn out to be bad. Stop yourself, get him out of here! One part of her screamed. Another scoffed, saying, 'you nuts? This guy's on fire!' and yet another snickered at the irony, knowing that nothing more than tonight was gonna happen.
Drea and Angel finished straightening the stats.
"That's so strange. How's he do? Hope he doesn't cause much trouble."
"None at all, he's an angel. No pun intended. He's a great runner, actually. Almost beat the school record for the 800 meter last year and he was only a sophomore. He was like three seconds off."
"Yeah, he mentioned that. He's also talked a lot about you, now that I think of it."
"Really, what's he say?" Drea asked, sitting on the couch. Angel followed, smiling a little. "Oh, boy. Do I wanna know this?" She asked with a slight blushing smile.
"He's just always saying what a great environment it is, and how you really help out a lot of the kids with issues. Like you're a second advisor for them, somebody the other runners can count on."
"Aw, that's sweet of him."
"Yeah. Connor's a, a good kid." Angel paused, searching for the right words. Truth was, Connor was a good kid, with straight A's, wonderful sportsmanship and athleticism, but he tended to be not so good of a guy towards his family. He and Angel got along okay, but there was always some tension because of-
"So, anyway, um, can I get you anything?" Drea's voice broke Angel out of his moment of thought.
"Uh, no thanks, I'm okay." She nodded, but from the narrowed, suspicous looking glance she shot him, she suspected otherwise.
The two sat in an awkward silence for a few moments. Drea focused her eyes on the floor, and Angel focused his eyes on Drea focusing her eyes on the floor. She felt his eyes watching her. Something about this guy puzzled her, like she didn't quite know what to do. With anyone else she'd already be in bed with them by now, but Angel was just strangely different. They had talked for more than an hour and he hadn't run away screaming because she was a nutcase. He will eventually. Might as well get this over with, Drea thought.
Drea looked up, her startling green eyes meeting Angel's deep brown, leaned forward on the couch and kissed him deeply. At first, Angel was surprised, but then again, he shouldn't have been. After all, she had invited him up to her apartment, and that was almost a universal message sending off a radar saying "fuck me". Doubt crossed his mind as her tongue snaked into his mouth.
'Should I be taking advantage of her like this, or could it even be considered taking advantage of her if she was practically jumping me? Or wait, was she taking advantage of him? Shut up, brain, you're confusing me, Angel thought. Just concentrate on this gorgeous girl who just straddled your hips, oh holy shit that feels good...'
*Shit, am I coming on too strong? Is this gonna be something I'm gonna regret, since it seems like I could actually get along with this guy? Is this a good idea? I mean, he's obviously liking it... but do I really want this right now? Oh, what the hell am I doing? Giving him a hard on, obviously, but should I really screw this up by doing this so soon? I mean, I just met him. He's gonna think I'm a slut. He probably already does think I'm a slut. Am I a slut? I should stop this right now before it gets out of hand... speaking of hand, his just went up the back of my shirt. He probably wants to do this, so if I stop, he'll think I'm a tease. I guess since we're rounding second, we might as well run it on home.*
Angel pulled away from Drea's dominating mouth for a moment.
"Are you sure?" He asked huskily as she rubbed her hips against his groin.
"Are you?"
~*~
Back at Triple Threat, Amy and Max were really hitting it off. Jay and Greg had already left, leaving Oz and Willow sitting next to each other in a pretty strange conversation.
"Did you ever wonder why the monkey is the only animal cracker with pants?" Oz asked Willow, who giggled foolishly, but in a very cute way.
"Pfft! Noo. Why, did you?"
"Yeah. It's always been something that bugged me. I mean, doesn't the hippo or something get jealous? I mean it's like, 'hey, I've got my hippo pride and all, how come I don't have any pants?' and the monkey goes 'I mock you with my monkey pants!' and then there's a coup in the zoo."
This made Willow burst out in drunken and non-drunken laughter, meaning mainly that she would have laughed even if she was not drunk, but since she was in fact drunk, she laughed in a less controlled manner than when she was drunk. Which was now.
"You're funny! And you think a lot..." Willow said, smiling, patting Oz's arm. Oz smiled. She would be so great when she wasn't drunk.
"Thanks, Willow. You're pretty amusing yourself."
"Pfft! Noo!" Willow exclaimed for the second time that evening. "I'm like the most boring person EVER. I mean, all I really do is study and work and stuff for med school. It's like, it! Tha's it! Just studying Willow and studying Willow, no fun Willow. Tonight's like, the only night I've been out in aaages. I'm never like this." Willow admitted bluntly.
"I don't think that being a medical student is boring. Pretty cool on my radar."
"Yeah, you're in a band, being a student who studies illnesses and crap is REALLY interesting compared to tours and playing the guitar and meeting interesting people..."
"Well, I guess it's not so bad. I did meet you, after all."
Willow smiled and blushed, no scoffing this time. The small, stoic guitarrist smiled at the redhead. 'Wonder if I should ask for her number...'
AN: hehe. next chapter, next day, new verdicts. what do you want to see happen? i'll take everything into consideration... any character requests, additional info to giles' grand scheme of things, more of this, less of that, just lemme know in a review! all ya hafta do is click that little button on the bottom left of this and type in whatcha want. then click another button, and you make me happy and you get rewarded with e-cookies! (you can let me know if you want the e-cookies. when you review!) --emily