Chapter 13
Champagne
"I love this part! Don't you love this part? When it's all new and everything is a discovery?"
-Willow, 'The Harsh Light of Day'
Willow stepped out of the rented town car, and looked around her. The columned façade of the opera house, lit up brightly for the evening's performance, loomed over her. She was tempted to pinch herself, not daring to believe that it was all real.
Spike held out an arm, and she took it, letting the vampire lead her through the gathering crowds and into the imposing building.
Once inside, Spike whispered, "I'll be right back," and disappeared, leaving Willow gawking at the beautiful lobby. More columns, combined with a huge, arched ceiling, left her feeling a little overwhelmed.
"Champagne?" Spike was back, offering her one of the glasses he was holding.
She took it eagerly, never having tasted real champagne before. She clinked glasses with Spike before trying a sip. That sip was followed by several others, as Willow decided that she liked the bubbly wine. She looked around at all the people dressed in their finest, then looked down at her own outfit. Truthfully, she felt like Cinderella at the ball, with her gorgeous dress and flashing jewels. Except instead of a fairy godmother, she had Spike.
She frowned a little, then, as she remembered where it all came from. Willow quickly pushed the thought away, though, unwilling to let it mar her evening.
Tomorrow, she promised her conscience, I'll think about it tomorrow.
Finishing her drink, Willow allowed Spike to steer her into the main opera house and down to their seats. Once again, she was caught gaping like a tourist at the sheer size and scope of the room.
Sitting there waiting for the performance to start, Willow felt herself growing more and more uneasy. Surely, any minute now someone would rush over here and demand to know how they got their tickets. She kept glancing back over her shoulder at the door, expecting to see an officious usher, or worse, a police officer heading towards them.
But nothing of the sort happened, and Willow finally began to relax as the orchestra started tuning up, and the house lights dimmed in anticipation of the start of the performance.
Willow had never seen a real, live opera before. She'd seen performances on public television, and old filmstrips in the school library, but nothing had prepared her for the real thing. She knew the plotline, a tragic tale of love and sickness amongst poverty in the Latin Quarter of Paris, and she'd listened to some of the music, but she'd never seen it performed before.
Her heart leapt with excitement as the orchestra suddenly swelled into the overture, and the lights went down. She laughed along with the antics of the four bohemians as they tricked their landlord out of the rent, then sighed at the romance of it all, as bohemian Rodolfo and his neighbor, Mimi, found themselves falling in love. Was there anything better than love at first sight? she mused. She hummed along with the bohemians' friend, Musetta, who sang a bawdy waltz as the characters caroused in the streets and cafés of Paris, then snickered with the rest of the audience as Musetta's older lover got stuck with the bill.
The lights came up to signal the intermission, and Willow struggled to come back to reality. She was still humming the waltz as they made their way back into the lobby. Once again, Spike left her side, only to reappear later with champagne. Willow took her glass, and sipped it contemplatively. She looked over at Spike, thinking of the one thing she had noticed outside of the opera. For a while, she debated whether to say anything at all, but finally, she spoke.
"You're not watching the opera," she accused.
"Sure I am," Spike replied easily.
"No, you're not," Willow insisted, "Every time I look over, you're staring at me."
"And I can see the whole performance on your face. It's a stage I'd far rather watch, anyway," he countered.
The explanation made her blush.
"Really?" she asked, flattered.
"Really, truly," Spike responded, "Now drink your champagne, the next act's about to start."
The second half of the opera was the more tragic half. Again, Willow lived the drama along with the characters on stage. She huffed in indignation when a sick Mimi revealed that Rodolfo had left her, then softened and grew misty-eyed as he explained how he thought it was in Mimi's best interests. As the lovers agreed to reunite for a brief time, she was saddened by the shadow of doom hanging over them. Willow gasped at Mimi's appearance in the final act, all sickly and haggard, and she wept with Rodolfo as Mimi finally succumbed to her illness and died.
Spike slid his arm around the crying young woman, and pressed his handkerchief into her hand. She dabbed at her eyes gratefully, as she leaned into his shoulder. Then it was time to stand and applaud the cast, and Willow did it with all her heart.
Finally, the lights came up and they made their way back to the waiting car.
"Dinner?" Spike asked, as he held the door for her. "I've made reservations."
Willow's stomach growled inelegantly, and she was reminded of how long it had been since she'd eaten. She nodded her agreement, and they set off.
Spike had selected an upscale French restaurant not far from the opera house. The maitre d' showed them to their table, right along one side of a small dance floor. It was empty at the moment, but on the other side stood a grand piano where a pianist was playing "Strangers in the Night". Spike stopped and pulled out Willow's seat for her before taking his own. Willow was touched by the small gesture.
A waiter with an authentic-sounding French accent came over with menus and inquired about drinks.
"A bottle of champagne," Spike ordered.
"I will just need to see mademoiselle's I.D.," the waiter informed them.
Willow was crushed, but Spike merely said, "I've got that right here, mate," before passing a hundred dollar bill to the waiter.
"Ah, very good, monsieur. One bottle of champagne."
Willow gaped at her dining companion.
"Spike!" was all she could manage as a protest.
"Oh, and suddenly we're playing by the rules tonight?"
She blushed and looked down.
"Besides," he continued, "I saw how much you liked the champagne, earlier. I just like seeing you happy."
They concentrated on their menus for a while. Willow was glad of her French lessons, as there was no English anywhere on the menu. She looked up to see that Spike seemed to be having trouble with his, moving it back and forth. She decided to help out as diplomatically as she could.
"Spike, would it be okay if I ordered for both of us?" she asked sweetly, "I'd love the chance to practice my French."
Spike put down the menu with obvious relief.
"Just order me something that looks like a steak," he instructed.
"Filet mignon?" she asked.
"As long as it's rare, I'm happy," he confirmed
Willow gave their order in flawless French, then sat back to enjoy her champagne. Spike, however, had other plans.
"Dance with me, princess?" he asked, holding out a hand.
Willow was a little nervous about dancing in front of the whole restaurant, but she let Spike draw her out onto the dance floor.
He left her standing in the center of the floor and went over to the pianist. More money changed hands, and Spike whispered something into the other man's ear. He nodded and the tune he was playing modulated into the introduction of a new song.
Willow couldn't help but smile as she recognized the tune. Spike smiled back at her and took her in his arms, beginning to steer her around the dance floor. Willow found herself humming along as the lyrics ran through her head.
'That old black magic has me in its spell,
That old black magic that you weave so well,
Those icy fingers up and down my spine,
The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine.'
Spike was not the best dancer in the world, but he managed to keep from stepping on Willow's toes, or her dress. She found herself relaxing into his embrace, no longer concerned with the curious eyes of the other patrons. She gave a sigh of regret when the song ended, but their dinner had just arrived, and she was hungry.
Willow eagerly cut into her coq au vin and took a bite. It was heavenly. But Spike had barely cut into his meal before he signaled for the waiter. In halting French, he stated that his dish was supposed to be rare.
The waiter was apologetic, but explained that they weren't allowed to serve food rare, not even for an additional fee. That last was added on as Spike reached for his wallet again. He sighed heavily and put it back.
"Bon, d'accord," he grudgingly agreed, before turning back towards Willow. "Bloody regulations, ruin a man's dinner."
"You speak French!" Willow accused, surprised and delighted.
"Not as well as you, but yeah, I speak a little."
"That'll be useful when we go to Paris," Willow stated, then grew red with embarrassment when she realized that she'd spoken aloud. The Paris trip was just a daydream of hers.
"Are we going to Paris, then, love?" Spike inquired with some amusement.
Willow put a hand over her face, then looked at Spike through her fingers.
"It's the champagne," she said weakly, "It makes me say things instead of just thinking them."
"Well, that could be useful," Spike teased gently, then took her hand and said, "Still, it might be nice to visit Paris with someone who likes it."
Willow thought about that for a moment.
"Drusilla didn't like Paris?" she ventured.
"Hated it. I never knew quite why. It'd be nice to see it through someone else's eyes."
"Maybe someday we will," Willow said, allowing herself to dream a little.
"I'll drink to that," Spike responded, and they both toasted the idea.
Willow decided to steer the conversation around to what she really wanted to talk about.
"What did you think of the opera?"
"I think you enjoyed it very much," Spike dodged.
"Come on, Spike."
"I think it'd be more productive if I asked you what you thought of the opera," he countered. Willow reflected that he was probably right.
"I loved it!" she admitted, "It was so beautiful, and sad. Although…"
"Although what?" Spike asked, actually managing to look interested.
"I didn't like the part in the third act where he leaves her 'for her own good'. I don't much approve of that sort of philosophy."
"Don't imagine that you would, princess," Spike said, taking her hand once again.
She took a long drink, then looked Spike straight in the eye.
"You wouldn't do that, would you, Spike? Leave a girl because you thought it was 'for her own good'?"
Spike shook his head. "Not me. I'm far too selfish."
Willow laughed at that.
"I'm serious, pet. When I fall for a girl, it's forever. Literally."
"That's true," Willow conceded, growing thoughtful, "Well, always provided that she's a vampire, too."
"That is a valid point," he agreed, "But you have to admit, I've got quite a track record in the commitment department. Over a century in my last serious relationship."
"But you're over her, right?" Willow asked, suddenly finding herself a bit jealous.
"Well and truly," Spike confirmed, giving her hand a squeeze, "As I told you once before, I've moved on."
Willow felt the heat rising in her face under Spike's steady gaze. She was acutely aware of his hand on hers, the coolness of his skin contrasting with the warmth of her own. Uncertain what else to do, she finished off her glass of champagne, and was relieved when Spike broke off his stare to pour her another one.
Willow spun in happy circles, barefoot beneath the full moon. They were high atop the roof of their hotel. Spike had picked the lock on the stairwell door, and now the San Francisco skyline was laid out before them.
"You're going to make yourself sick if you keep that up," Spike cautioned, opening a fresh bottle of champagne, and pouring it into glasses. His bowtie hung undone around his neck, and several buttons on his shirt were unfastened.
Willow stopped spinning and came over for her glass. She was fairly tipsy already, but she didn't care. Tonight was her night to indulge, after all. She took a long drink, then set it down.
"Dance with me, Spike?" she asked, holding out her arms.
Spike quickly obliged, taking her in his arms and holding her close. The moon shown down on the couple, illuminating them with a ghostly light, as they moved and swayed to a music only they could hear.
Willow sighed happily as she rested her head on Spike's chest. It felt so nice, just being together. She regretted ever choosing Oz over him. Gone were her doubts about the vampire. Spike was devoted, he was committed. Spike would never cheat on her or leave her, she was sure of it. Spike, she decided, was the one.
"Spike?" she asked, raising her head, "What would you say if I said I changed my mind?"
She could see the hope rising in his eyes as her meaning penetrated.
"I'd say it was about bloody time," he responded, pulling her closer in a possessive hug. "But are you sure pet? You are a teensy bit drunk, after all."
Willow waved away the notion that the alcohol had anything to do with it.
"I think I've always known it was you, deep down. I was just afraid to acknowledge it, that's all."
She lifted up her face to be kissed, and Spike did not hesitate to do so. One kiss followed another, and they stood entwined in each other's arms, bathed in moonlight, until a security guard finally caught them and chased them back downstairs.
A short while later, Willow stood in the door to her hotel room, shoes in hand, trying to coax Spike inside.
"Just for a little bit," she pleaded.
"Sorry, love. I promised to be a gentleman on this trip, and that's what I intend to do," he said firmly.
"You can come in for a few minutes and still be a gentleman," Willow argued.
"Maybe so, but it's late. We're going to need to leave fairly soon. You'll need time to change and pack."
"Leave? Already?" Surprise colored her voice.
"It's almost dawn. We've got to be on the road before the sun comes up. You can sleep in the car."
Willow leaned forward and gave Spike a long, passionate kiss. His arms wound around her tightly as the kiss continued, and she smiled to herself.
"Maybe I don't want to leave," she whispered in her best seductive voice.
Spike detached himself reluctantly.
"I had a great time, too, but we have to go back home sometime. Especially since you have people expecting you tomorrow," he reminded her.
Willow pouted a little at that, but grudgingly admitted that he was right.
"Don't worry now. You and I will still have plenty of fun in old Sunnyhell. Just you wait and see."
With that, he gave her a final kiss and left her to her packing.