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Bonding -- by Luisa
Rating: G
Description: Willow and Spike bond. Sequel to A Girl's Thing.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.
1.
<Vodka, vodka...where the hell am I gonna find *vodka*?!> Willow was in a frenzy, rummaging through her parents' liquor cabinet with greedy fingers, frowning at every single bottle her hands touched. She checked her watch, remembering a lecture she had to go back for. <Damn it.>
She had been quite comfortable with the idea of leaving home. She never felt lonely on campus, Buffy was always there, informing her either about the next chaotic party or bloodthirsty fiend. And Xander was never far off either.
<Bayleys...?> She paused. <Nah, he'll think it a sissy drink...>. She smiled. <He needs something that's hard-hitting, something that snaps him out of his vegetating zombieness...> . She still hadn't got over the fact that Spike had changed. Not physically, everything was very much in place in that department. But mentally.
He seemed defeated. Not being able to make people beg for mercy was taking its toll on the blond vampire and Willow recognized the symptoms of vampiric depression. She could still remember Angel's own propensity for fruitless brooding. The only difference was, Spike still managed to make her laugh. Angel never had.
<He doesn't need a friend, he needs a meal...>, Willow's heart sighed. <Still, I'm better than nothing.>, her ego retorted. Her eyes suddenly spotted an elegant-looking bottle of whisky, hidden behind countless other bottles, all rather alike.
<Hm...this actually looks like something *I'd* like to try.> She grinned. <Yes!> Running up the stairs to her room, she discarded her sweater and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked happy. Joy bubbled in her green eyes and on her cheeks, her hair glowed under a few soft rays of sunlight. Opening her cupboard, she tried to convince herself that she wasn't dressing up. <Nah...I feel all sweaty...that's all.> Taking out a blue top that she'd left behind, she pulled it over her head, enjoying the feel of it on her skin. Then she returned to the mirror, anxiously looking for creases and stains. The garment looked quite unharmed. <Good.> She didn't analyse her anxiety. She tried quenching it instead, by opening the bottle and drinking from it carefully. Her plan was to do all the gasping and coughing inside her own realm instead of enduring Spike's arching eyebrows on her pathetic efforts later on. <Argh....>, she grimaced. <Can this suck any worse?> After a few sips, it seemed her throat had got used to it. Either that or she had ceased to have a throat, which was also possible. Willow shrugged and moved towards her desk, where she opened a drawer. Picking up the most precious thing she had ever owned, she slipped it into one of her pockets along with her keys and left the room, heading downstairs. The door banged. Everything looked brighter outside.
2.
<Should I knock?>, Willow hesitated. She frowned, unwilling to lose an opportunity of using her recently acquired powers. <If I don't, he'll probably hit the roof...> She had realised that Spike was still very much the vampire, even if his senses seemed a little dulled by lack of fresh blood and violence. She knocked, sighing in frustration as two minutes went by with no answer. <Is he asleep?> She banged on the door. It suddenly opened, revealing a very disgruntled Spike in a Hawaiian shirt. <So this is what he looks like in the morning...hmm...>
"Didn't your 'rents teach you any manners, Red?". His scowl gave way to a welcoming grin as she lifted the bottle between them. "Well....that's better."
"I thought so.", she smiled. She followed him into Giles' living-room, blinking in the dimness.
"You know, Spike, there are ways of keeping out the sun without turning this place into a tomb."
"Pet, I'm dead. I dig tombs.", he sighed. "Anyway, what are we celebrating?". He quirked an eyebrow, inviting her to sit down with a careless sweep of the hand.
"Tara.", she grinned.
"Long may she live.", he chuckled, reaching for the bottle with enthusiastic fingers.
Willow chuckled, watching him guzzle some of the whisky without so much as blinking. He handed her the bottle, a gleam of challenge on his normally expressionless eyes. Willow returned the look with a fierce grin of her own, taking the bottle and carefully sipping from it. A scorching wave of alcohol crashed down on her stomach, flaming everything in its path. All of Willow's heroic efforts were useless, as she reached a hesitant hand to her throat, coughing helplessly. Spike burst into genuine laughter, taking the bottle from her very willing fingers.
"Little girls should stick to orange juice.", he smirked, leaning back. Willow frowned.
"Yeah, 'cause you've never looked manlier in that shirt you're wearing." Spike scowled. "That sodding washing-machine took its revenge on my things." Willow giggled. "And I thought Xander had actually offered you some style counselling."
Spike looked unhappy. "He tried to, but I threatened him with a screwdriver."
Willow winced. Spike smiled. "He looks cute when he's scared witless." Willow grinned. "Yeah...". Then became serious. Reaching inside her pocket, she took out Tara's crystal, gazing at its faint sparkle in the darkness. Spike was startled.
"Whoa, pet, that must've cost a pretty buck!"
"No, it was absolutely for free.", she smiled dreamily.
"What is it? Some sorta demon-taming orb?", he mocked.
"I see nothing that needs taming around here."
Spike winced. "Ouch!" He drank some more of the whisky.
"Tara gave this to me. It's the best thing I've ever had. You know, Spike, I actually feel like a witch now. It's like Tara is showing me the real Willow. The Willow that can make stuff happen instead of waiting for things to fall from the sky." She blushed, afraid of having bored him out of his skull. But he seemed reasonably alive.
"Usually when things fall from the sky, they're big and heavy and they land on you."
"I know. Oz fell from the sky...", she murmured. Her eyes filled with tears for a second, but she looked away, reaching for the bottle. Spike gave it to her, looking grave. Suddenly he straightened on his seat, rubbing his hands together.
"Right! So I gather my sex...errm...love advice was successful.", he grinned.
Willow looked up, smiling radiantly. "Oh yeah! But that's all I'm sharing."
"Come on, pet, give me something to get my phantasy rolling...!", he pleaded, looking very much like a blond puppy-dog.
"We talked."
"Nope. Didn't feel it roll."
"We...bonded."
"Ah...that's better.", he smiled, gleefully reaching for the bottle once more.
Willow frowned. "There was no-no...", she stammered.
Spike arched his eyebrows in mock-horror. "On a first date? I should think not!"
Willow laughed, merriment bubbling to the surface.
"Yeah, right. I can imagine your first dates..." Spike smirked.
"No, you can't."
"Pounce and run.", she quipped.
"Well, I do give flowers first.", he sighed.
"Oh, that's a relief.", she mocked. She got up. "Anyway, I have to go. Shakespeare awaits."
"What, you're doing him in class?"
"Yeah, it's actually great fun."
"I know. For someone who wasn't undead, he sure had a grasp on the subject."
Willow was puzzled. "How's that?"
Spike smiled. "Blood, guts, mayhem, sex...it's all there. Poetry in motion."
Willow shrugged. "I guess." She gave him her best smile. "See ya. Don't watch too much TV." Spike grinned. "Make sure I don't by coming over tonight." She laughed, closing the door behind her. Spike took the bottle and looked at its label with a satisfied smirk.
"It's vintage, alright."
The End
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