Once she reached the outside, she kept running until she lost her breath.
Looking around, she saw she had run to Spike's cemetery. At least, that's
what the Scoobies called it. Sunnydale called it something else. She was
debating on going to his crypt or just walking to Buffy's house and hoping
she didn't run into any nasties when the decision was taken out of her
hands.
"Well, what have we here?" Willow turned to see Spike in his standard black boots, denim, T-shirt and duster, carrying a brown liquor bag.
"Um, hey Spike! I was just, uh, out running and, well, here I am, so can you please walk me home?"
"Don't you have witchy powers for some reason? Like, to keep you from annoying us vampires to death?"
"My powers didn't help me with Oz."
"That's for sure," Spike snorted.
"And they didn't help me with, with Tara." Willow bit her lip and looked down at the ground, trying not to cry and failing.
"Pet, I'm sorry." Willow continued crying, not even looking up. "Luv?" Still no response. "WILLOW!" She looked up but continued to cry. Spike sighed. "Come here." Willow walked over to him. Spike handed her the bag, which she took numbly. Before she could do anything else, not that she was inclined to, he picked her up and started walking to his crypt.
When he reached it, he kicked the door open and chuckled. "Hey, look what I picked up from the Slayer." Willow giggled and then frowned. "What, pet?"
"Um, nothing?" Spike gave her an I-don't-believe-you look but Willow didn't comment further. Spike set her down on his recliner after kicking the door shut behind him. He took the bag from her hands and moved to the mini-fridge by the wall and stared shelving the blood. When he was done, he moved to the recliner, set the bag by it, then picked Willow up, sat down, and put her on his lap.
"Um, Spike?"
"Yes pet?" Spike said with an evil grin.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"Being sat on?"
Spike chuckled."No luv, I'm helping you."
"Ohkay," Willow said, dragging out the word. ~If I ask why, he'll probably get all offended. So I won't ask why. Instead I'll ask, I'll ask, okay, I have no clue what to ask.~
Spike watched her internally monologueing. When she looked at him, he asked her, "So, why did you get a non-happy when I mentioned the Slayer?"
Willow looked down at her, suddenly fascinated by a ring on her left middle finger. Spike put two fingers under her head and tipped her head up. "Pet?"
Willow looked into his eyes and saw nothing but genuine concern. "Well, we were at the Bronze, and she kept pointing out girls to me, and trying to get me to ask them to dance or something, and I kept telling her I didn't want to until I finally told her that I'm not over Tara and she kept up with her "move on" speeches that she invented when Oz left and I just blew up at her and she wouldn't stop interrupting me and I was just so irritated with her and then she touched me and I sent her flying and that's when I left and ended up, well, here."
Spike looked at her with admiration. "Are you sure you need to breathe?"
Willow giggled. "I have years of practice."
"So, Slutty was being self-obsessed as usual, and you finally got the balls to stand up to her? I propose a toast." Willow blushed at his language and Spike reached over to the paper bag and pulled out a bottle of liquor. "To Willow's balls." He opened the bottle and took a swallow, passing it to Willow. "To my, uh, balls." Willow swallowed, then brightened. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't we play a game?"
"What kind of game?" Spike asked, raising one eyebrow suggestively.
"Not that kind of game. A drinking game."
"One of my favorite kind."
"I never."
"What's that?"
"You've never played 'I never'? But you're, like, old!"
"I was never hanging around mortals before now, pet."
"Oh, right, cause the whole undead thing. Well, I guess I should tell you the rules."
"I guess you should."
"Okay then. One of us says something we've never done before. If the other person-" Spike raised his eyebrow again. "er, person/vampire, has done it, then they have to drink."
"Sounds like fun."
"Oh, it is. You go first."
"Right then. I've never been a Jewish Wiccan."
Willow giggled and took a drink. "I've never been a guy."
"That was a cheap shot." Spike took a sip. "I've never worn boxers"
Willow looked down for a second, then took a swallow. "Funny. I never thought of you as a briefs guy. Not that I ever thought about what underwear you wear, but now that I do, I wouldn't think you would wear briefs. It just seems very non-fangy, ya know?"
Spike grinned. "I never said I wore briefs, luv. And why were you wearing boxers?"
Willow blushed at his first comment. "Um, oh, uh, I wore Oz's boxers a couple of times. I never had sex with Angelus."
Spike took a drink. "Just don't tell me he wore your knickers. I never had sex with a werewolf."
Willow wrinkled her nose and took a drink. "Oz in a thong. Now that would be a funny sight." She giggled, then burped. "Oops," she said, covering her mouth with one hand.
Spike cocked his head at her. "Are you drunk already?"
"Nope, I'm not. Not I. After Buffy's time as a cavewoman, I don't think any member of the Scooby Gang will ever be drunk again." Willow giggled again.
Spike shook his head. "You are drunk!"
"Are not."
"Are too."
"Are not"
"Are too."
"Are- bugger this. You are drunk, and I think I should get you home. I don't want the Slayer to come in here, accuse me of taking advantage of you, and stake me."
"But you wouldn't take advantage of me, would you, Spike? You're good now, right? I mean, you haven't tried to kill us in, like, months."
"Luv, I'm still the Big Bad. I'm just less bad. For now."
"Sure you are, Spike. Whatever you say."
"Really?" His voice, and his eyebrow, arched suggestively.
"You're impossible."
"Yes, but at least I'm not half-cut."
"I'm not half-cut. At least, I don't think I am. Am I?"
"You most definetely are."
"Oh, okay."
"See, you admitted it. You are drunk."
"Grrr."
"Very nice, pet. Do you have fangs to match?"
"Funny, Spike. Very funny."
"Aren't I though?"
"Hey, what happened to I Never?"
"I don't know."
"Why don't we play Truth or Dare instead?"
"Is that another drinking game?"
"What do you do with your unlife?"
"Shag, kill, feed, shag."
"Right, I forget. Do you want to play or not?"
"How do you play?"
"I'll teach you as we go. Truth or Dare?"
"Uh, yes?"
"No, silly, pick one."
Spike shifted his hands suddenly and began tickling her. She started shrieking. "Watch who you're calling silly."
"Okay, I'm sorry. You're not silly, you're the Big Bad. Ahhh! Please stop. Please, Spike. SPIKE!" Willow started swatting at him, but he simply grabbed her wrists in one hand and kept tickling her. "SPI-IKE! Stop. Please."
"Alright. But you have to do something for me."
"What?" Willow asked suspiciously.
"You have to...hmm. I got it. You have to chug the rest of this bottle." He gestured with the half-empty bottle in his hand.
"But its like half full! Won't that, like, kill me or something?"
"Added benefit."
"Hey!"
"Just kidding, pet. Why don't you do some witchy thing so you don't get 'like, killed or something'?" He finished in a high voice that sounded suspiciously like Willow.
"Well, what have we here?" Willow turned to see Spike in his standard black boots, denim, T-shirt and duster, carrying a brown liquor bag.
"Um, hey Spike! I was just, uh, out running and, well, here I am, so can you please walk me home?"
"Don't you have witchy powers for some reason? Like, to keep you from annoying us vampires to death?"
"My powers didn't help me with Oz."
"That's for sure," Spike snorted.
"And they didn't help me with, with Tara." Willow bit her lip and looked down at the ground, trying not to cry and failing.
"Pet, I'm sorry." Willow continued crying, not even looking up. "Luv?" Still no response. "WILLOW!" She looked up but continued to cry. Spike sighed. "Come here." Willow walked over to him. Spike handed her the bag, which she took numbly. Before she could do anything else, not that she was inclined to, he picked her up and started walking to his crypt.
When he reached it, he kicked the door open and chuckled. "Hey, look what I picked up from the Slayer." Willow giggled and then frowned. "What, pet?"
"Um, nothing?" Spike gave her an I-don't-believe-you look but Willow didn't comment further. Spike set her down on his recliner after kicking the door shut behind him. He took the bag from her hands and moved to the mini-fridge by the wall and stared shelving the blood. When he was done, he moved to the recliner, set the bag by it, then picked Willow up, sat down, and put her on his lap.
"Um, Spike?"
"Yes pet?" Spike said with an evil grin.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"Being sat on?"
Spike chuckled."No luv, I'm helping you."
"Ohkay," Willow said, dragging out the word. ~If I ask why, he'll probably get all offended. So I won't ask why. Instead I'll ask, I'll ask, okay, I have no clue what to ask.~
Spike watched her internally monologueing. When she looked at him, he asked her, "So, why did you get a non-happy when I mentioned the Slayer?"
Willow looked down at her, suddenly fascinated by a ring on her left middle finger. Spike put two fingers under her head and tipped her head up. "Pet?"
Willow looked into his eyes and saw nothing but genuine concern. "Well, we were at the Bronze, and she kept pointing out girls to me, and trying to get me to ask them to dance or something, and I kept telling her I didn't want to until I finally told her that I'm not over Tara and she kept up with her "move on" speeches that she invented when Oz left and I just blew up at her and she wouldn't stop interrupting me and I was just so irritated with her and then she touched me and I sent her flying and that's when I left and ended up, well, here."
Spike looked at her with admiration. "Are you sure you need to breathe?"
Willow giggled. "I have years of practice."
"So, Slutty was being self-obsessed as usual, and you finally got the balls to stand up to her? I propose a toast." Willow blushed at his language and Spike reached over to the paper bag and pulled out a bottle of liquor. "To Willow's balls." He opened the bottle and took a swallow, passing it to Willow. "To my, uh, balls." Willow swallowed, then brightened. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't we play a game?"
"What kind of game?" Spike asked, raising one eyebrow suggestively.
"Not that kind of game. A drinking game."
"One of my favorite kind."
"I never."
"What's that?"
"You've never played 'I never'? But you're, like, old!"
"I was never hanging around mortals before now, pet."
"Oh, right, cause the whole undead thing. Well, I guess I should tell you the rules."
"I guess you should."
"Okay then. One of us says something we've never done before. If the other person-" Spike raised his eyebrow again. "er, person/vampire, has done it, then they have to drink."
"Sounds like fun."
"Oh, it is. You go first."
"Right then. I've never been a Jewish Wiccan."
Willow giggled and took a drink. "I've never been a guy."
"That was a cheap shot." Spike took a sip. "I've never worn boxers"
Willow looked down for a second, then took a swallow. "Funny. I never thought of you as a briefs guy. Not that I ever thought about what underwear you wear, but now that I do, I wouldn't think you would wear briefs. It just seems very non-fangy, ya know?"
Spike grinned. "I never said I wore briefs, luv. And why were you wearing boxers?"
Willow blushed at his first comment. "Um, oh, uh, I wore Oz's boxers a couple of times. I never had sex with Angelus."
Spike took a drink. "Just don't tell me he wore your knickers. I never had sex with a werewolf."
Willow wrinkled her nose and took a drink. "Oz in a thong. Now that would be a funny sight." She giggled, then burped. "Oops," she said, covering her mouth with one hand.
Spike cocked his head at her. "Are you drunk already?"
"Nope, I'm not. Not I. After Buffy's time as a cavewoman, I don't think any member of the Scooby Gang will ever be drunk again." Willow giggled again.
Spike shook his head. "You are drunk!"
"Are not."
"Are too."
"Are not"
"Are too."
"Are- bugger this. You are drunk, and I think I should get you home. I don't want the Slayer to come in here, accuse me of taking advantage of you, and stake me."
"But you wouldn't take advantage of me, would you, Spike? You're good now, right? I mean, you haven't tried to kill us in, like, months."
"Luv, I'm still the Big Bad. I'm just less bad. For now."
"Sure you are, Spike. Whatever you say."
"Really?" His voice, and his eyebrow, arched suggestively.
"You're impossible."
"Yes, but at least I'm not half-cut."
"I'm not half-cut. At least, I don't think I am. Am I?"
"You most definetely are."
"Oh, okay."
"See, you admitted it. You are drunk."
"Grrr."
"Very nice, pet. Do you have fangs to match?"
"Funny, Spike. Very funny."
"Aren't I though?"
"Hey, what happened to I Never?"
"I don't know."
"Why don't we play Truth or Dare instead?"
"Is that another drinking game?"
"What do you do with your unlife?"
"Shag, kill, feed, shag."
"Right, I forget. Do you want to play or not?"
"How do you play?"
"I'll teach you as we go. Truth or Dare?"
"Uh, yes?"
"No, silly, pick one."
Spike shifted his hands suddenly and began tickling her. She started shrieking. "Watch who you're calling silly."
"Okay, I'm sorry. You're not silly, you're the Big Bad. Ahhh! Please stop. Please, Spike. SPIKE!" Willow started swatting at him, but he simply grabbed her wrists in one hand and kept tickling her. "SPI-IKE! Stop. Please."
"Alright. But you have to do something for me."
"What?" Willow asked suspiciously.
"You have to...hmm. I got it. You have to chug the rest of this bottle." He gestured with the half-empty bottle in his hand.
"But its like half full! Won't that, like, kill me or something?"
"Added benefit."
"Hey!"
"Just kidding, pet. Why don't you do some witchy thing so you don't get 'like, killed or something'?" He finished in a high voice that sounded suspiciously like Willow.