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Stuck -- by Luisa

Rating: R

Description: Spike and Willow are trapped in a basement. They converse

Note: Dedication - To Claudia and my Mom, for being such great people.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. Joss Whedon owns it all. Except this play, of which he "merely" owns Willow, Spike and some words. Charles Schulz owns Charlie Brown and co.

~ A dramedy in 100 acts (somewhat similar to Saber's Sillyfics) ~

A dark basement with no windows. A few dusty boxes and piles of old newspapers litter the place. A flight of stairs leads to a rust door. It's closed. Willow and Spike are there, looking glum. They each sit on a carton box turned upside down.

Spike (exasperated): This is just...fab. (gets up and walks across the room)

Willow (anxious): Are you sure the door won't budge? Let's try again.

Spike: What, I haven't dislocated enough bones for you?! Of course it's fuckin' shut! Face it, we're trapped. In a fuckin' cellar. With no booze to go round.

Willow (sighs): OK, OK...don't get mad. Jesus...what are we gonna do?

Spike: You're not gonna start screamin' your guts out, are ya? My conk can't take it right now...it's fuckin' poundin'! Besides...they're outside.

Willow (pensive): Have you tried rubbing your temples? It sorta helps. At least on a human head...(her eyes stray away from his face)

Spike: What, like this? (rubs his fingers on his forehead from side to side)

Willow: No....(frowns and gets up, walking over to where he is standing)

Spike (turns eyes upwards in a frustrated gesture) How then?!

Willow (hesitantly taking his arm and leading him back to his seat): Sit down. (starts rubbing his forehead using small, circular finger movements): There.

Spike (relaxes): That's smashin', pet...don't stop.

(Willow smiles.)

Spike: So what is it that scares you most about bein' down ere with me?

Willow (confused): I'm not scared! It's not like I'd being doing this if I were afraid of you...(continues rubbing vigorously)

Spike: No....but you're not completely at ease either, are ya, pet? (smiles mischievously)

Willow doesn't answer.

Spike: So what's this thing between you and Xapper, the teenage loser?

Willow (annoyed): His name's Xander, OK?

Spike: Xander, the teenage bozo then.

Willow (frowns): There's no thing between Xander and me. (rubs on) I mean...I guess there'll always be something on my part, but....(arches her eyebrows sorrowfully) I'm not going anywhere with it.

Spike (whistles softly): Hm....sounds bloody familiar.

Willow: What? How?...

Spike (shrugs): I don't wanna talk about it.

Willow (sighs): Fine...

Spike: So there you have it. Dru dumped me, even though I was ready to...compromise. I mean...I was willing to share, for fuck's sake. Not that she cared...(sighs)

Willow (solemnly): And she wouldn't even slice your head...

Spike (bitter):...and toast it on a rack...No.

Willow (sad): What a world...

Spike: You're bloody right, pet. But we're still up and about...so I guess it's not as fucked-up as all that..

Willow (smiling): And, besides, there are still a lot of things I wanna do before I leave it, so...

Spike (curious): Yeah, pet? Like what? What do you like doin'?

Willow (dreamy): Studying. Surfing the Net. Kissing Oz. Listening to Xander's stories. Holding babies.

Spike (distracted): Drain' em while they're young, I always say...

Willow (punching his shoulder): Spike!

Spike: Ow! (rubs his shoulder, looking reproachfully at her)

Spike: Do you think there's a God, luv? You know...floatin' up yonder, having a fuckin' blast...

Willow (pensive): Yeah, I believe in God...(silence)

Spike: But?

Willow: But....he's somewhere in the Bahamas, drinking tequilla and his...his mobile's disconnected.

Spike (bursts out laughing): HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh pet....you just knock me off!(wipes tears from eyes)

Willow (bleakly): It's not that funny when you dwell on it...

Spike (seriously): No, it's not. (bursts out laughing again) Oh....fuck!

Willow (stops rubbing his head): You're lucky there's no stake lying around here somewhere...

Spike: No...but there's an umbrella in the corner over there, Mary Poppins.

(Willow exasperatedly sighs and starts rubbing again. Violently.)

Willow: What about a Devil? If there's a God...

Spike: Oh yeah, he's around too. I met' im.

Willow (confused): Huh?

Spike: Yeah. He's an appalin' dresser. I'd be ashamed to be seen on the street with the bloke.

Willow: You're nuts.

Spike: Maybe it's the vicious rubbin' kickin' in...pet. Ouch!

Willow: In a chess game between the two, who do you think would win?

Spike: God.

Willow (puzzled): Why?

Spike: He plays dirty.

Spike: So you're afraid of what, pet? Missin' a dot on an i?

Willow (smiles, then becomes serious): I'm afraid of many things...losing my parents, being run over by a school bus filled with frogs-just a dream I had once-disappointing Oz...Disappointing Xander.

Spike (arching eyebrows): What, that dolt again?

Willow (ignoring him): I keep making these stupid... lists...Xander's pros and cons. Oz's pros and cons...

Spike (smiling): Dru's pros and...no, wait. There are no pros...(becomes serious)

Willow (frowning): There must have been. Otherwise...

Spike: Don't kid yourself, pet. It's not people's pros we fall for.

Willow (confused): Then what? If not...

Spike (interrupts): It's that... that half a grain of the twisted, the weird, the downright bizarre we go breakin' our necks for. We pride ourselves in havin' found the thing that makes someone different, out-of-this-world...the thing nobody else has found.

Willow (curious): And...

Spike: It turns out everybody else have their heads screwed on tight and you're the one wearin' yours on your bloody sleeve.

Spike: Smokin', drivin', feedin', fuckin'...

Willow (redder with every word): Uh-huh.

Spike: The usual, I guess. I read a bit too.

Willow: What do you read?

Spike: The Bible.

Willow (startled): Huh?

Spike: And the sport's section in the paper...Too bad there's no Page 3 here though. That's the one thing I miss about pervy ole Britland...(sighs dramatically)

Willow: Page 3?

Spike: Yeah! The girlie page.

Willow (clueless): Oh I see.

Spike (amused): Of course you do, pet.

Spike: Aren't you tired, pet?

Willow (miles away): Huh? Oh! No, it's OK...

Spike: No, I mean aren't you tired of life?

Willow: Sometimes. I get all tied in knots over nothing...

Spike: You should try undying. Really clears your nasal freeways...

(Willow laughs.)

Spike: No, really! Puts things in perspective, sheds some light on' em. Life's overrated.

Willow (arching an eyebrow): Really?

Spike: Yeah. It's like one of those movies everybody's hyper about and then you go see it and wish you'd wiped your ass on the five bucks instead...

Willow (shrugs): Makes sense. (stops rubbing)

Spike (not noticing): Yeah...

Willow: Favorite fashion designer?

Spike (frowning): None. They're all sick, overpaid fucks.

Willow (startled): Okay......favorite writer.

Spike: Wri-ters. Brett Easton Ellis...

Willow (stops rubbing): What?!

Spike: Just shittin' ya. Poe, Conrad, Faulkner, Wilde and Homer.

Willow (surprised): You like Oscar Wilde?

Spike (arching eyebrows): Doesn't everyone?

Willow: I guess.

Spike: I think he'd have made one helluva vamp...

Willow (smiles): Favorite cartoon character.

Spike: That would be Homer.

Willow (confused for a second): Huh?

Spike: Homer Simpson. He's a man of the Nineties.

Willow (sighs and looks away): Whatever you say, Spike. (keeps rubbing)

Spike (smokes): Have you ever noticed how people always toss their fags away before they reach the filter?

Willow (clueless): No....actually I haven't.

Spike: Just look at' em. You'll see.

Willow: So?

Spike: That's what they do with their lives too. They screw' em up before the good part's actually started.

Willow: What do you mean by good part?

Spike: The part that starts with your gettin' it into your thick, anemic skull that it's not gonna get any better.

Willow (smiles, then becomes serious): What if you're already born knowing it's not gonna get any better?

Spike: Then you've got it made.

Spike: Your turn now. Favorite...shag-toy?

Willow: What?

Spike: Who'd you wanna fuck?

Willow (scarlet): Um...Brad Pitt.

Spike (turns eyes upwards): Why did I bother askin'?

Willow: Why, who's yours?

Spike: Mother Teresa.

Willow (laughs): What?! Oh...gross!

Spike: What, did you ever catch that smile? A million bucks, I tell ya.

Willow: What, you'd 've slept with her for a million bucks?

Spike: That too.

(Willow's in stitches)

Spike: Where were we? Ah...favorite snack.

Willow: Make that favorite meal. Ice cream.

Spike: And snack?

Willow: Oz.

Spike (smiles): Okay...sounds scrumptious.

Willow (suspicious): Don't get any ideas.

Spike (eyes open wide): Who me? Nah, I prefer my snacks with no fur.

Willow (annoyed): Yeah, I'm sure your snacks'd prefer you...unfanged.

Spike: I've never asked.

Willow (looks away): Favorite sin?

Spike: Sodomy.

Willow (incredulous): You?!

Spike (absent-minded): In another unlifetime...

Willow (eyes popping out): Really?! With Angel???

Spike: Angelus, if you please. I wouldn't touch Soul-bloody-wanker with a ten-feet pole.

Willow: Did Dru know about it?

Spike: Hell, NO! She'd order Miss Edith and her dolly lynch mob to string me up from the nearest sequoia...at 6am.

Willow (hesitantly): What's it like?

Spike (confused for a second): What?

Willow: It!

Spike: Like shoving a fuckin' walking stick up a...

Willow (quickly): OK, OK, I get it...

Spike: Crackbrained sheep's ass. In this case...yours truly's.

Willow (confused): Crackbrained?

Spike: Dolty, dozy, dopey, dim... generally fucked-up.

Willow: Nice to know you're not lacking in self-esteem...

Spike (smiles): Not me, pet.

Spike: What is this, a one-vampire-show? What about you?!

Willow: What, favorite sin?

Spike: Hm, let me guess. Gettin' the teacher an apple behind your classmates's backs.

Willow (annoyed): No! I'm sinful...!

Spike: Yeah, as sinful as Shirley Temple. On a good day.

Willow: What, Shirley Temple had bad days?

Spike: Sure! Not enough frills on the dress, curls won't bounce high enough...that sorta thing.

Willow (laughs): What a...bitch!

Spike: You said it.

Willow: Bus. No, wait...Train!

Spike: Why?

Willow: There's something romantic about it. The Casablanca thing...

Spike: I doubt ole Rick found the train very romantic that day...

Willow (frowns): Even so...

Spike: And short-distance?

Willow: Bike, I guess.

Spike (incredulous): What, even uphill?

Willow (philosophical): Yeah, cause there's always a downhill afterwards.

Spike (amused): You wild thing, you...

Willow: You're not the only one full of surprises...

Spike: God strike me alive if I am!

Spike: And why is that?

Willow: I don't know...they're just too caught up in their...careers, I guess.

Spike: What about their careers as 'rents?

Willow (sad): They see it more as a stint. Something that perked up their CV once...

Spike: Have you talked to' em yet?

Willow (impatient): What's the point? "You're so self-centered, Willow. We've got to earn a living, Willow. You should try to do more stuff outside the house, Willow!" ARGHHHH!!!

Spike: So I guess it's neon-sign time.

Willow (confused): What?

Spike (didactic): Neon-sign. Try jumpin' off a 97-storey-building.

Willow: Nah, they'd say it wasn't high enough...

Spike: OK then... Undie. And then pay them a bloodthirsty, highly stimulating-for-all-parties-concerned visit...

Willow: You come up with the sanest ideas...

Spike: I didn't spend 205 years in a nuthouse for nothing.

Willow: What? What nuthouse?

Spike: What do you call this planet?

Willow: Parking-lot for the chemically-imbalanced.

Spike (enlightened): Oh.

Spike: So the Slayer's your bosom buddy?

Willow: So to speak.

Spike (wistful): And what a lovely bosom to have as buddy...

Willow (slightly annoyed): Join the club! Everybody's gotta thing for Buffy...

Spike: What thing?

Willow: Oh I don't know...they all drool and keel over every time she walks by. Or wields a stake.

Spike (frowns): Well, I can get the keelin' over part then.

Willow (miserable): It's just a figure-of-speech....I'm not really jealous, just tired, I guess.

Spike: Why does it get to you? You've got the coyote... Don't tell me he´s...

Willow: Caught him looking down her top the other day. Nearly locked him up him a week earlier than usual...

Spike: Ouch! Well, the guy's matin' instincts probably...

Willow (interrupts): Oh don't give me that! Then every man on this god-forsaken planet goes nuts during full moon TOO!

Spike (ill-at-ease): And on the other twenty-seven days as well...

Willow (sighs): Good grief...

Spike: What's your favorite cartoon character?

Willow: Charlie Brown.

Spike: What, the premature bald head?

Willow (seething): DON´T call him that!

Spike (winces): OK, OK...sorry, pet. What do you like about b....Charlie B.?

Willow: He spends his days fretting over things that are beyond his control. Like I mean... Lucy's always gonna be mean and over-charge him for psych-sessions. Linus is always gonna be carryin' around a nerdy blanket and being clueless. Snoopy´s always gonna write bad novels and want food. And the little redhead...she's gonna end up in some millionaire's arms, forgetting Charlie Brown's name before she forgets his face...

Spike: What about the Patty chick? The one with the nose?

Willow: Peppermint Patty...she's gonna end up living with Marcie and doing the artificial insemination thing.

Spike (laughs): You've got it all figured out, pet.

Willow: No...there's still Spike.

Spike (excited): What, there's a gorgeous hero with my name on' im? That goes 'round drivin' fast cars and gettin' blowjobs while at it?

Willow (perplexed): You can call it that. He lives in the desert and makes rugs.

Spike: You really know how to burst a man's bubble, luv.

Willow (contrite): Sorry.

Spike: If you keep rubbin' me like that, my skin´s gonna drop off real soon.

Willow: Sorry. OK, I'm done. (moves towards her box)

Spike (startled): No, you're not! What about my neck? My shoulders?

My bleedin' collarbone?!

Willow: What am I, one of those 1-800 girls that give you a happy if you call' em?! You've got hands!!!

Spike (sulking): Women...

Willow: Anyway, my fingers'd need high-tech surgery really soon if I kept at it like that.

Spike (frowns): OK...let's see. Favorite f...curse-word.

Willow: Um....damn.

Spike: Come on!!! You can do better than that!

Willow (annoyed): No! Damn is a damned fine word to go around damning people with!

Spike: You should try real swearin' sometime. Does wonders for your joie de vivre!

Willow: Yeah and puts your family life six feet under! That is...if you have one.

Spike: OK, let's just try "fuck" since you're new at this. You're learnin' with the best, so take advantage of it!

Willow: No.

Spike: Come on, luv. I'm the only one here... (impersonates five-year-old) I won't tell...

Willow (fearful): F.....

Spike (leans over and frowns): What?

Willow: Fu........

Spike (excited): You can do it, baby. I'm right here with you, holdin' your hand all the way!

Willow: Fuck.

Spike: YES! THERE! Doesn't that give you a happy or an ecstatic or whatever you wanna call it?

Willow (shrugs): I guess...(her face is crimson)

Willow: Favorite sing-song?

Spike (sing-songs): So-meone's-on-the- cei-ling...

Willow (frowns): Don't remind me! I had to be stuck with Cordelia inside a broom-closet all night because you wanted to play!

Spike (shocked): No, not play! Crush, torture, crucify. You really should be more accurate in your accusations...

Willow: Whatever. You should try a dose of Cordelia Chase in turmoil if you wanna know the true meaning of "crucify"...

Spike (smiles): I wouldn't mind givin' Cordelia a turmoil...or twenty.

Willow: Too bad you weren't around a few months ago then...I could've used someone like you to keep her off Xander...one look at your car and she'd probably have shrieked and died, but...

Spike: WHAT?!? What's wrong with my car???

Willow (winces): Nothing, nothing. Just...

Spike (glares): Just what?

Willow (smiles): Nothing that a new car wouldn't fix. (jumps off the box when Spike lunges at her)

Willow: Ermmm....favorite after-shave!

Spike: Scotch.

Willow (startled): Huh?

Spike (smiles): Vampires don't shave, pet. At least not themselves.

Willow (puzzled): Huh?

Spike (dreamy): I've done my fair share of shavin'...Ask my beloved paramour.

(Willow shudders.)

Spike (smiles): Those were supremely delectable fifteen-minute-sessions...

(Willow cringes.) SPIKE!

Spike (startled): What, pet? What?

Willow (sighs): Nothing...

Spike: Poison of choice.

Willow: That's easy. Frog-poison.

Spike (sighs): I meant a drink, pet.

Willow (red): Oh. Hot-chocolate with marshmellows on top. Have you tried it?

Spike (disgusted): Liquid detergent...

Willow (startled): What?

Spike: Tastes like bleedin' Fairy Ultra to me.

Willow (annoyed): How do you know what Fairy Ultra tastes like?

Spike: I once guzzled a whole bottle of the stuff to show Dru I had it up to' ere with one of 'er tantrums...

Willow (shocked): What happened?

Spike: I was fartin' bleedin' bubbles for a week...

Willow (solemn): What an image...

Spike: What a week, you mean.

Willow: What's your favorite concept?

Spike: Simple. Free love.

Willow: I thought that Dru wasn't really keen on any of that stuff...

Spike (smiles): Who says she was in on it?

Willow (red): Okay....

Spike (teasing): Is there a lot of free love goin' on in your life right now, pet?

Willow (sorrowful): Not even a lot of bound love going on at the moment...

Spike (shocked): PET! I didn't know you were into that sorta frolickin'...!

Willow (startled): What?!

Spike (enlightened): Nothin', pet.

Willow (frowns): Oh and then she goes and ta--

(Her eyes widen as Spike starts contorting his body in a frenzy) Oh FUCK! Pet! Pet!!!

Willow (startled): What, Spike?!

Spike (bending back and forth): I NEED YOUR 'ANDS ON ME RIGHT NOW!!!

Willow (shocked): HUH???

Spike (getting more desperate): C' MON, PET, GIMME A HAPPY!!!!!

Willow (eyes popping out): SPIKE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!!!!!

Spike (deflates, completely worn-out): Nothin', pet. Just a bloody itch on my rump...

Willow (smiles): Xander had a blast thrusting the Kama Sutra under my nose during Chem class the other day...

Spike (dreamy): Ah.....the Kama Sutra (frowns) That fuckin' ole war-horse.

Willow (mocking): What, I thought you of all people (dead and alive) would appreciate its charms...

Spike: It's not that, pet. Actually me and Dru once had a go at all of' at fancy square-dancin'...(smiles)

Willow (eyes popping out): All of it?...

Spike: Yeah, but we never graduated...

Willow (arches an eyebrow): Did you pull a muscle or something?

Spike: Nah. Dru looked at me, I looked at' er, we both shrugged and ended up watchin' the bleedin' Weather Channel instead...

Willow: If you hate hot chocolate, what's your favorite drink?

Spike (arches eyebrows): Take a wild guess, luv...

Willow (looks away): Oh.

Spike (dreamy): Sizzlin', fruity, seasoned...

Willow (puzzled): Seasoned?

Spike: Sure! It's like bloody Port Wine...needs fermentation...and then, of course there's the package.

Willow (fearful): Package?

Spike: Young, ole, pretty, ugly, virgin, slut...

Willow (interrupts): Spike!

Spike: Yes, luv?

Willow: Shut up.

(Spike frowns.)

Spike: So what's your ambition in life, pet? Besides doin' the naughty with Wolfie?

Willow (crimson): Watch it, buster...

Spike (apologetic): Sorry, pet. Wolfie and Xapper.

(Willow tries not to smile) I don't know yet. I guess now it's more about getting through life without major heart surgery than actually having any lofty ambitions...or expectations.

Spike: I know what you mean, pet. Once I've scoffed the first couple of mucky necks, the rest's just "been there, severed that"...

Willow (solemn): Nobody grasps me quite like you do, Spike...

Spike (grins delightedly): Awww, pet...

Willow (unsure): I don't know...I guess my computer (smiles) It's like some sorta magic mirror into things...

Spike (dreamy): Yeah...I've 'ad a few m'self. Grand things, computers...Mine has its own, worthy place in the joint.

Willow (curious): As what? Nintendo provider?

Spike (shocked): Paperweight, pet!

(Willow sighs.)

Spike: And flicks and stuff, pet? What gets you all hot' n' horny?

Willow (red): War Games. Matthew Broderick's in it...to use one of your words, seasoned special effects and a brainy computer nerd make for one earth-shattering, spasm-inducing Big-Bang...What about you? What do you like?

Spike: Japanese cartoon flicks. They kick some weighty ass, but still nick a time-out to spout off psychadelic pearls of unruffled wisdom that have me on the bleedin' floor with my guts out...(smiles)

Willow (smiles): Yeah....

Spike (excited): But Martha Stewart's first-rate too!

(Willow bursts out laughing. Spike shrugs.)

Spike: What's your favorite memory from when you were a tot?

Willow: Playing with Xander under the pear-tree in my garden.

Spike (smiles): Playin' what? Horny doctors and giddy nurses?

Willow: It was more like pitiable geeks and deplorable ghouls...What's yours?

Spike (pensive): Hm...Dunno, really.

Willow: Come on, you gotta have one!

Spike: Busty Belinda and Naughty Nadine behind The Crown Leaf on my birthday.

Willow (red): How old were you?

Spike (unsure): Eleven?...

(Willow shudders.)

Willow (frowns): Doesn't it just drive you nuts when you go into a store and the people there act as if they're the ones doing you a favor?

Spike (pensive): I dunno, pet...they're usually too busy beggin' for mercy to be anythin' but charmin' to me.

Willow (annoyed): So I guess all it takes is a snap of the fangs and it's--

Spike (grins): Customer satisfaction guaranteed, pet.

Spike: You know, pet...I once went bleedin' beserk and tried to choke Miss Edith into kingdom come.

Willow (arches eyebrows): You did?...

Spike: Yeah, pet. I told Dru that if I' ad to go through another of' em bloody tea-parties, the dolly'd be toast.

Willow (eyes popping out): How did she take it?

Spike (grim): She pointed to the bleedin' teapot, sayin': You be mother, Spike.

Willow (sad): One healthy, happy family...

Spike (dreamy): Your cheeks are like blood-red apples, pet...

Willow (uneasy): Thank you, Spike. I guess. (smiles) Yours are more like silky white chocolate.

Spike (frowns): You're makin' me hungry, pet.

Willow (practical): You can always go bite a wall, Spike.

Spike (sulky): Not enough fibre, pet...

Willow (dreamy): I really love it when we get the paper in the morning and it's all smooth and crisp...

Spike: I know the feelin', pet. Now why can't unlife be like that?

Willow (solemn): Your answer's out there, somewhere, Spike.

Spike (pensive): Waitin' to be nabbed by the neck, I'm sure...

Willow (quickly): I always read the fun page first. What about you?

Spike: The obituaries, pet.

Willow (frowns): Why? Does a great, big body-count make the day seem

bright' n' cheerful?

Spike (smiles): Nah, just like seein' my work nicely advertised...

Willow (unhappy): So you see, there's just so much pressure to be the best right now...

Spike (pensive): Yeah, pet...

Willow (distressed): I mean...my midterms're coming up and I'm sure my parents'll go nuts if the colors don't go flyin' off into stratosphere...

Spike (sympathetic): That's rough, pet...

Willow (frowns): I bet you never had any such problems...

Spike (cocky): No, pet, I didn't.

Willow (mocking): So how did you get to be the Yoda of Sunnydale's finest?

Spike (cool): I just neck-broke my way to the top, pet.

Willow (curious): When were you born, Spike?

Spike: November 13th, 1794, pet.

Willow (frowns): Hm...that makes you...a Scorpio!

Spike (arches eyebrows): Nah, pet, that makes me exactly 205-years-old.

Willow (amused): What, you don't believe that stars can pull strings? (pompous) That a certain alignment of the planets can decide whether you're run over by a car on your way home or live to get an A- in Maths the next morning?

Spike (philosophical): I believe in things I can sink my fangs into, pet.

Willow (deflates): That actually sounded reasonable to my sick, tired brain...

Spike (emphatic): Munchy, of course!

Willow (clueless): Huh?

Spike (wistful): Manchester United. My boys in glitzy red, my very own kick-ass army, my reapers of blazin' glory, my gu--

Willow (quickly): Uh-huh. So you used to buy tickets and all?

Spike (frowns): Fuck, no! I wouldn't give those sick bastards tuppence!

Willow (sad): That's love for ya...

Spike (pensive): Pet, have you checked out the way chicks roll up their eyeballs and holler your bleedin´ ears out when they hit the jackpot?

Willow (clueless): Huh?

Spike (frowns): When they come, pet...

Willow (crimson): Oh. No....

Spike (turns eyes upwards): I figured as much...but nevermind, they do. (warms to his subject) It's like they're bein' injected with bleedin' nerve gas the way they carry on...

Willow (brooding): They're being injected with something, alright...

Spike (smiles): Yeah and when they come (gets excited), it's like (moans) Oh baby...yeah, oh, oh, oh, Oooooohhhhhhhh (squeals) BABY!!! NOW...NOW, NOOOOWW!!!!!!! (hollers) AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Willow is on her knees, cringing, hands over ears) I DON'T NEED TO KNOW THIS, SPIKE!!!!!!!!!!!

Spike (deflates): Sorry, pet, I guess I just got a mite carried away there for a sec...

Willow (exhausted): Yeah...I always thought you should've been an actor...

Spike (delighted): You did?

Willow (cryptic): And there's even a certain industry that would welcome you with open arms...

Spike (excited): Which one, pet? Pet? Pet! Pet?!!

Willow: You could actually be on TV, Spike...

Spike (cocky): Don't I know it, pet? There's a lot of untapped talent underneath this crop...

Willow (pensive): Yeah, I can actually see some trickles of it...So, what would your show be about?

Spike: Necks, chicks, kicks and dicks.

Willow (red): Sounds like a shoo-in...

Spike (excited): Yeah and wait till ya hear what I'd wanna call it, pet!

Willow (curious): What?

Spike (stately): The Spike Almighty Show!

Willow (solemn): I guess the word "yikes" just about sums it up...

Spike: Coke, weed, acid, Pop-tarts...you name it, pet.

Willow (eyes popping out): Really?

Spike (cocky): Sure, pet.

Willow: Did you feel anything?

Spike: Just bleedin' thirsty, for the most part. But one time me and Dru got more out of it than we'd bargained for.

Willow (curious): What happened?

Spike (cryptic): Let's just say the bleedin' junk put the spice back into our unlife together...

Willow (frowns): How?

Spike: We were at it like bleedin' rabbits for five days.

(Willow nods dazedly.) Oh.

Spike (wistful): I couldn' walk for a we--

Willow (crimson): Yes! Thank you, Spike.

Spike (startled): For what, pet?

Willow (puzzled): So how do you know who's who in your world?

Spike: What do you mean, pet?

Willow (didactic): Well, we humans have to carry around something that says who we are and what we do. It saves us the hassle of feelin' too free.

Spike (amused): Who says I don't?

Willow (curious): You have some thingy that marks your place in polite society?

Spike (cocky): Yeah, pet. Two actually.

Willow (arches eyebrows): Where are they?

Spike (grins, showing fangs): Right here, pet.

Willow: So, if you hate hot-chocolate, what's your favorite drink?

Spike (smiles): Take a wild guess, luv...

Willow (red): Oh.

Spike (dreamy): Sizzlin', fruity, seasoned...

Willow (frowns): Seasoned?

Spike: Yeah, pet, it's like bleedin' Port Wine... Needs fermentation. And then of course, there's the package.

Willow (fearful): Package?

Spike: Young, ole, pretty, ugly, virgin, slut...

Willow (cringing): Spike!

Spike (startled): Yes, luv?

Willow: Shut up.

(Spike frowns.)

Willow: What do you feel when you look at a cross?

Spike: Pain. Like I was bein' staked or somethin'. And a great deal of pleasure, too.

Willow (puzzled): Why?

Spike: 'Cause it's bleedin' beautiful. I'm attracted to extreme things, I guess, and he was an extreme human bein'.

Willow (arches eyebrows): Because he died for us?

Spike: Because he died for nothin', luv.

Willow (dreamy): Her songs always make me happy. I guess they'll keep on doing it even when I'm 100 and can't get out of bed...

Spike: I know the feelin', pet. Rock' n 'roll gets ya high no matter what.

Willow: Yeah...who's your favorite songwriter?

Spike: Billy Idol. His stuff makes me wanna get the bleedin' car-keys out and 'it the road.

Willow (curious): Why haven't you? Hit the road, I mean.

Spike (bleak): There's no Dru to hit the road with, pet.

Willow: I have this diary I've writing in since I was 12.

Spike (curious): Yeah, pet? What's in it?

Willow (smiles): Thoughts, feelings, drawings and of course some pictures of actors....I usually write in it when I'm upset about something (becomes serious)

Spike: Yeah, I tried that too once.

Willow (curious): Really? How did it go?

Spike: The pen went through the bleedin' paper and ripped it in half.

Willow (worried): You know, Spike...maybe you should quit smoking. It's really bad for your heart.

Spike (amused): Pet, I don't have a heart. Not one that bitches anyway.

Willow (red): That tiny detail somehow slipped my notice...

Spike (reminiscent): I burnt Dru with a bleedin' fag once...

Willow (cringes): Ow! That must have hurt!

Spike (dreamy): Yeah...

Willow (eyes popping out): What did she yell?...

Spike (shrugs): Whoa baby, etc, etc.

Willow: So what's your favorite snack? (frowns) Apart from ditzy blonde cheerleaders...

Spike: Hm....that narrows the field, pet...Peanuts, I guess.

Willow (surprised): Really? To eat?

Spike (rolls eyes): Nah, to race 'em against each other...

Willow (crimson): I thought so...

Spike: You like 'em too, pet?

Willow: Not really. The only Peanuts I'm into have deep existential issues...

Willow: Best invention, Spike.

Spike: Brandin' irons. When the telly's not on.

Willow (shudders): There's fun for the whole family...

Spike: Your turn now. Best invention, pet?

Willow (fierce): The Frogometer! Let's you know when there's one of 'em on the same hemisphere...

Spike (frowns): I never 'eard of no Fr-

Willow (grim): Yeah, I wish they'd hurry up and invent it...

Willow: You were in a wheelchair for three months?!

Spike (grim): Yeah, pet...I've rolled to hell and back....

Willow: When was this?

Spike: After the bleedin' Slayer hit the roof over 'er lap-dog makin' imself useful...

Willow (frowns): Oh. (sad) Well, soon after that he wasn't her boyfriend anymore...

Spike (frowns): Don' I know it...the wanker spent 'is days messin' with Dru's 'ead and kickin' my chair all over the place...(smiles) One time I rolled straight over 'is feet, I did...

Willow (startled): You did? What did he do?

Spike (smug): He got off 'is moronic ass and came after me.

Willow (eyes popping out): What did you do?

Spike (ill-at-ease): I hid behind Dru...

Willow: Doesn't it bother you when you look in a mirror and there's nothing there?

Spike (shrugs): Not really. I don't need a bleedin' mirror to tell me I look smashin'....

Willow (smiles): Okay....

Spike: In fact, Dru used to serve as my mirror. We even 'ad this little game we played...

Willow (fearful): Oh really? (reluctant) What was it?

Spike (dreamy): "Tell me 'ow gorgeous I am and I'll let you use the horsewhip."

Spike: But, pet...wrestlin's bleedin' amazin'!

Willow (disgusted): If you're not having dinner at the same time...

Spike (dreamy): I once got some moves outta one of' em challenges...(grins) and then practised' em on the Slayer for some laughs.

Willow (pensive): Yeah...I remember her saying something about that.

Spike (excited): Yeah, pet? What did the chit' ave to say?

Willow (solemn): I believe the exact words were: that one really needs his ass kicked more often...

Spike (grim): Bloody women...

Spike (pensive): You know, pet, I read in the paper yesterday that a man crashed cause his parachute wouldn't pen.

Willow: Yeah...I read that article too. Poor guy...

Spike: Probably couldn't believe his senses till his brains splattered all over the ground...poor devil.

Willow: Life sucks. You go relyin' on something to happen and are left hangin'...

Spike: Yeah, one of God's little jokes...

Willow: What is?

Spike: That he forgot to make us wings.

Willow: I want to believe...but it gets harder every day.

Spike: I wouldn't let' Im gobble up my faith...

Willow: Do you think I'm stupid for believing?

Spike: No, pet, not stupid. Believers aren't stupid.

Willow: Then what are they?

Spike: Desperate.

Willow: What was it like when you first set eyes on Drusilla?

Spike: Pitiful. She was all cut up and bruised...

Willow (winces): Angelus?

Spike: Yeah...he'd messed with her so badly she didn't know right nor left...

Willow: What was it like, living with him?

Spike: It did strange things to me. I....(hesitates) loved Dru. But I was so fuckin' jealous of her as well....

Willow: Jealous?

Spike: Angelus was blind to everyone but her. I wanted him...(looks away)

Willow: Even though he--

Spike: Even though, because, whenever...who knows?

Willow: About Angelus...did you ever confront him?

Spike: Oh yeah...

Willow: What did you do?

Spike: I lunged at him with a blade one night.

Willow: And?

Spike: He was on the bleedin' floor laughin' like mad..."Spikey", he said, "you don't have the guts..."

Willow: Did you? Have the guts to--

Spike: No. He was my sire...I shoved the thing through one of his shoulders. At least he couldn't hit Dru with that arm for a couple of days...

Willow: I see God everywhere. On my balcony, in my dreams, in my fish tank, in my Math test...

Spike (smiles): Must be nice...

Willow: It's not always the same God. He has strange forms...like a mutant.

Spike: I see things different.

Willow: How? How do you see things?

Spike: God doesn't wanna be seen with us.

Willow: Why?...

Spike: Cause we're socially inadequate.

Willow: I don't know what to do about it.

Spike: Stake' im.

Willow: I just know he's waiting for the right moment to break up with me...

Spike: Are you gonna let' im?

Willow: No....but he's going away soon and then...

Spike: You don't go for long-distance bonds, pet?

Willow: Define long-distance. He can stand there in front of me and still be miles away...

Spike: True...Dru turned away from me just like that. One night.

Willow: Because you were becoming good...

Spike: Said I'd developed a soul...like it was some malignant growth or somethin'.

Willow: Maybe she was right...I think there's half a heart in there somewhere.

Spike: Nah...it's just some people bring out the soul-monkey in me...

Willow (smiles): Aha...

Spike: Not that I thank' em for it.

Willow: How old were you when you were turned?

Spike: 18. Like a bleedin' comin'-of-age, it was.

Willow: How did you feel at first?

Spike: Pissed off. It's not like I'd asked for it...

Willow: No...

Spike: But there were some things I hated to do and got out of doin'.

Willow: Like what?

Spike: Hittin' the books...earnin' a livin'. And then there were things I didn't wanna get rid of...

(Willow arches her eyebrows)

Spike: The feelin' of the sun on my face.

Spike: What is it you've always wanted to ask Wolfie to do and never 'ave?

Willow: I don't know...what about you and Dru?

Spike: I never asked her to forgive me. Because I didn't know what I'd done.

Willow: I...(hesitates) wanted to ask Oz to--- to...(looks away)

Spike: Give you a tumble?

Willow: No! Well....yes. But not like that...

Spike: Like what, pet? (smiles) Tell me.

Willow (crimson): Let's drop it, OK?

Spike (becomes serious): No, let's not. Why don't you just freakin' say it? You wanted 'im to stick it into ya and you've never got 'round to askin' im.

(Willow is upset.)

Spike (sighs): Sorry, luv. Just statin' a fact, that's all....

Willow: I love stargazing. Me and Xander used to do it for hours, up on my roof...

Spike: Mind-blowin' things, stars.

Willow: Like tiny tears...

Spike: Makes ya wonder what you'd do if you could pluck' em.

Willow (smiles): I'd put 'em inside a jar on my desk and watch 'em glow in the dark.

Spike: Not me. (smiles)

Willow: What would you do?

Spike: Reach out and snuff' em, one by one...

Spike: Are you afraid of death, pet?

Willow (smiles): Why, are you offerin' it to me?

Spike: I could...but no, I'm not.

Willow: I don't know what's beyond death. Or how I'm gonna die, for that matter.

Spike: Good people die well.

Willow (smiles): What do you mean by "well"?

Spike: Inside their 'omes, with their throats intact.

Willow: Oh. And you, are you afraid of the cryptic hereafter?

Spike: Nah...I don't know what's gonna 'appen and I don't care.

Willow: I think it's supposed to be eternal bliss.

Spike: Just another form of bondage then...

Willow: Addicted? (smiles) Mom says it's to the Internet...

Spike: Why, do you spend hours in a state of virtual blackout?

Willow: There's nothing black about the Net...it positively glows.

Spike: Yeah...a little too much for my taste.

Willow: What about you? What are vampires addicted to?

Spike: Lots of things. The night, leather...and to somethin' that gives' em headaches sometimes. (smiles)

Willow: What?

Spike: The livin', pet.

Willow: I hate taking the bus every day...I wake up happy and it makes me miserable.

Spike: What, the school-bus?

Willow: No, I have to take another one...

Spike: What do you hate about it?

Willow: Those same old faces...worn-out, bleak. Waiting for something to happen.

Spike: And it never does.

Willow (sad): No, it doesn't.

Spike: I can run as fast as a movin' bus.

Willow: Can you make me run like that too?...

Spike: Not unless I...(arches eyebrows)

Willow: No, thanks.

Willow: I'm not sure...I'd say it's weakness.

Spike: Weakness?

Willow: I let people boss me around...I don't speak up.

Spike (smiles): Oh I think you do. But maybe you need to yell sometimes, cause the noise's so bleedin' loud...(becomes serious)

Willow (smiles): I guess. OK...Your turn.

Spike: I'm the most selfish person I know. Dead or alive.

Willow: Oh I don't know about that...you weren't selfish around Dru.

Spike (bleak): And look where it got me...

Willow: Some people's lives are so hard...

Spike: That's true...I wouldn't trade places with' em for anything.

Willow: They don't deserve it...

Spike: Some of 'em do.

Willow: How?

Spike: They're walkin' baits.

Willow: Huh? For what?

Spike: For God to play cat 'n' mouse with 'em...

Willow: Dream? Hm....that'd be Oz in a church, with no fur. (smiles) And Xander on his knees, clutching at my veil with loud wails of agony!

Spike (smiles): Sounds saucy, pet. I have one too...me and Dru used to go on and on about it...

Willow (curious): Really? What is it?

Spike (dreamy): I wake up one night with big, blazin' wings and go flyin' off over' em clouds like a jumbo jet, faster and faster...

Willow (smiles): Sounds very nice, Spike...

Spike (excited): And then suddenly I swoop down and nab me'self some meals by their scrawny necks, watchin' their legs squirm and hearin' em holler...

Willow (sad): Remind me not to be in it...

Spike: What do you think would happen if someone picked up the world and shook it real hard?

Willow (bleak): We'd all fall off and be sucked into a greedy, black hole...

Spike (smiles): Maybe...maybe not.

Willow: What's your theory then?

Spike: I think things'd be topsy-turvy for a while...

Willow: But?

Spike: But soon enough everyone'd crawl back into their usual roles...

Willow (puzzled): As what?

Spike: Jolly eaters and wailin' edibles.

Spike: Pet, you deserve a treat.

Willow (fearful): I do? Does it involve pain of some kind?

Spike (frowns): No! Well, I'll do my best anyway...

Willow: Okay...

(Spike gets up and starts rubbing her back)

Willow (jumps): Your hands are freezing!

Spike (sighs): Sorry, pet. I'll remind me'self not to die next time...

Spike: We live in a cracked world, pet...

Willow: What makes you say that? The fact that that half of the population is starving, that we're constantly breathing in toxic fumes or that Baywatch is still on TV?

Spike: I'm talkin' about money, pet. The ole, crafty buck.

Willow: Oh...it's not like I was totally off track then.

Spike; You said it....I think a fuckin' piece of paper is more powerful than any bleedin' demon that goes 'round causin' mayhem.

Willow: What made you reach that conclusion?

Spike: The fact that people'd rather 'ave me sink my fangs into' em than steal their wallets...

Willow (smiles): My parents took me to this Surrealist exhibition in New York once...

Spike: Yeah, pet? What did you think of it?

Willow: I was really young...I kept pointing my finger and giggling until my parents stuck an ice-cream into my mouth.

Spike: I always thought they got pretty close to the real thing...

Willow: Huh? How?

Spike: Rottin' carcasses, hunchbacked monkeys, mucky arms stickin' out of a toilet...all sounds downright logical to me.

Willow (worried): I really think you should see someone, Spike...

Spike: If you' ad time for a part-time job, pet, what would it be?

Willow: Hm...actually I have a part-time job. I incarcerate a nice, loving human and watch it turn into this large, growling beast.

Spike: Sounds familiar. Nah, I never wait for 'em to turn into large, growlin' beasts...

Willow: Yeah, I know how you don't like being thanked and all...

Spike: That's right, pet.

Willow: What would you like to do?

Spike: Nothin'. Well, I wouldn't mind bein' a nurse.

Willow (startled): Huh?

Spike: Yeah, that'd be smashin'! I'd wake 'em up at 3am to feel their pulse and take a little blood...

Spike: You know, pet...I think I've finally figured out what we're all afraid of.

Willow (curious): What is it?

Spike: Waste. We're afraid of wastin' our lives and we're terrified of bein' wasted by them.

Willow: That's kinda right...but a lifetime of unqualified waste appeals to some people, I guess.

Spike: True...but who can say what's a wasted life and what isn't?

Willow: I certainly can't. Anyway...what is it that scares you personally?

Spike: The fact that someday I might wanna remember what a sunrise looks like.

Willow: When that day comes, give me a call.

Spike (bleak): What for, pet?

Willow: I'll describe it to you in full detail.

Spike: I've always wondered what chicks talk about when we're not around.

Willow: Oh, I think you'll find it's more uncoordinated giggling that goes on than actual talking...

Spike: Yeah but some words're bound to survive in between the giggles, pet.

Willow: A few. They usually revolve around the same thing.

Spike (curious): What's that, pet?

Willow (grins): Men...and what we're gonna do when we get our hands on 'em.

Spike: Pet...if you were an animal, what would you be?

Willow: We are animals, Spike. With mobiles, of course, but still...

Spike: You know what I mean, pet...

Willow (smiles): I'd be a Bonobo chimp. The Bonobos live in peace, cause the female chimps are the rulers.

Spike (shudders): Now there's my idea of hell...

Willow: OK....what would you be then?

Spike: A roarin' lion...king of the jungle, throat-ripper of the meek...

Willow: I heard that male lions lie in the sun all day while their mates go hunting.

Spike (bleak): Something's definitely rotten in the animal kingdom...

Spike: "To be or not to be..."

Willow (smiles): I actually studied Hamlet a few years ago.

Spike: And what did you learn from it?

Willow (unsure): That Danish guys have a thing for their mothers?

Spike (sighs): Well, that too...but there's more to it.

Willow: What is it?

Spike (smug): That "To sleep, to die" is the only way to live...

Willow: Do you really think I'm desperate?

Spike (startled): Huh?

Willow: You said believers are desperate...and I'm trying to be a believer.

Spike (sighs): You're not desperate, pet...believers 'ave this house of dreams inside their 'eads...

Willow: And?

Spike: They've insured it against fire, put an alarm in it and bought 'emselves a dog.

Willow: But?

Spike: But it's no use...a breath of air's enough to make the whole thing tumble.

Willow: Why?

Spike: Cause it's made of bleedin' cards, pet.

Willow: You've actually had thoughts about killing yourself?

Spike: Sure, pet...They take up five minutes of every blessed day.

Willow: How do you snap out of it?

Spike: I go out and snuff someone.

Willow: Oh....better them than you, huh?

(Spike arches his eyebrows and smiles)

Willow (sad): So why haven't you done it yet?

Spike: Cause I don't wanna miss it.

Willow: Miss what?

Spike: Doomsday, Apocalypse, the Super-Bowl...whatever you wanna call it.

(Willow sighs)

Spike (dreamy): Yeah, I've got a seat on the front row and popcorn to boot.

Willow: I don't think cars are safe. I mean...one little bump and BAM!, you're ashes...

Spike (dreamy): Yeah...

Willow: What, you like the thought of it?...

Spike: Not the thought, pet, the real deal.

Willow: You've been in a car crash?!

Spike: Yeah, once. The bleedin' thing flipped over twice and landed in a ditch.

Willow: What did you do?

Spike: Well, after I'd stopped laughin', I remembered to crawl out before it exploded.

Willow (sighs): One of life's little pleasures, huh, Spike?...

Spike: You know, pet...I finally got cable a few days ago.

Willow: And...what's the verdict?

Spike: It just sheds more light on the sad, human comedy...

Willow: Yeah...I know what you mean. Mom got cable for us a few weeks ago and Dad spends his evenings zapping back and forth. Not that Mom minds, of course.

Spike: Why's that, pet?

Willow (sad): Says it's improved her marriage beyond all measure...

Willow (smiles): Xander and I used to have this fantasy that one day we'd turn on the taps and boiling-hot coffee'd come splashing out of' em...

Spike: Coffee, pet?

Willow: Yeah, Spike. (grins) Delectably tangy, delightfully dark, heart-stoppingly sweet...

Spike (smiles): You're referrin' to me, pet...?

Willow (red): No...

Spike (cocky): Nice to know that there's a little bit of caffeine-fueled darkness in you, pet.

Willow: There's a lot of it, actually. My anti-bodies 're probably wondering where all the black hyper-cells came rushing from...

Spike: This thing with your parents, pet...how do you handle it?

Willow: I don't. I bypass it.

Spike: But you've 'ad the odd skirmish with 'em, eh?

Willow: Oh yeah...with Mom mostly. It usually ends with her secretly wishing I'd never been born. It's the only thing we can agree on.

Spike (sighs): You're a tough little nut, luv...with a very mild core.

Willow: With all the ghouls and demons, it just feels as if life's a long and crappy horror movie...

Spike: With freakin' bad sequels attached.

Willow: Yeah...and it's all being sewn onto me with very tight stitches.

(Spike smiles)

Willow: Have you ever felt like that?

Spike: I used to, before Dru.

Willow: What changed?...

Spike: I got me'self a new skin. One the needle can't pierce.

Willow: Corpse that rises from dead to drink the blood of the living.

Spike: Huh?

Willow: That's the dictionary's definition for "vampire".

Spike: Sounds a bit dodgy to me, pet...

Willow: How would you define it then?

Spike: Gutsy and fun-lovin' rascal that puts the livin' out of their misery.

Willow: I kinda like dictionaries...and CD-roms. They strip things out of their disguise and reduce' em to one-sided facts.

Spike: I don't care much for 'em me'self.

Willow: Why? They spare us the trouble of digging and defining...

Spike: If you want definitions, pet, check the ones printed on your bones. They're bound to be much closer to the truth.

Willow: This artist said once that without her art, she'd be dead.

Spike: So she was hangin' by a brush, was she?

Willow: Yeah...pretty much. Why do you think she said that?

Spike: She's the one you should be askin', pet.

Willow: I guess...

Spike: But yeah, we all have our art.

Willow: What's yours?

Spike: Body piercing. (smirks)

Willow: What kinda art is that?

Spike: Freedom of expression, pet...

Willow: Do you think all men are created equal?

Spike: Yeah, but life soon takes care of that.

Willow: What do you mean?

Spike: You're born naked, but someone comes along and puts clothes on your back.

Willow: And?

Spike: From then on, everything you own and don't own's gonna come between you and your so-called equal...

Willow: You really love driving, don't you?

Spike: Yeah, pet....the road's all there is.

Willow: What do you feel when you're driving at night?

Spike: Free and lonely.

Willow: And you like the feeling?

Spike: Like it no, respect it, yeah. It comes and goes as it pleases.

Willow: Long highways, distant fields, complete isolation...

Spike: Yeah, pet, that's pretty much it.

Willow: So being on the road means you're looking for something?

Spike: Not always. And anyway the road's not gonna give you any answers.

Willow: Why not?

Spike: You leave a place and drive to some other place you know you don't wanna be in even as you're speedin' towards it.

Willow: Coffee has the same effect on me as alcohol does on everyone else.

Spike (amused): Which is?

Willow: Nobody can understand a word I'm saying and everyone thinks I've had enough...

Spike (smiles): That's pretty accurate, pet.

Willow: Well, I got a taste of what alcohol does to a vampire...

Spike: That was nothing, pet.

Willow: Oh really? What's it like when you're really drunk?

Spike: Let's just say I usually ask the bartender if the place's insured before I sit down...

Willow: How considerate...

Spike: You know, pet, your hair's like a horses's mane. Glossy and all...

Willow: Thanks, Spike...yours is beautiful too.

Spike: It should be, it takes a lotta work to keep it like this...

Willow: Groomed?

Spike: No, pet, attached to my head.

(Willow laughs) You do know this is not my natural color, don't you?

Spike: Yeah, pet. I know something about dyeing...(smiles)

Willow (smiles): I'm sure you do...

Willow: Christmas...we don't celebrate it.

Spike: Not a great loss...

Willow: I guess...but I would still like to.

Spike: What for, pet? To fatten the commercial turkey?

Willow: I like giving presents...your knowledge of a person and your taste are both put to the test.

Spike: And you love tests...

Willow (grins): No, I love getting As. Nicely wrapped, of course...

Willow: Why do you hate Christmas?

Spike: On the contrary...I enjoy it.

Willow: You could've fooled me...

Spike: What could be more upliftin' than a bunch of meals filled with Christmas cheer?

(Willow frowns.)

Spike (smiles): Besides, I get to send God some Christmas presents of my own...

Spike: Christmas is OK, but without Dru...

Willow: Must be hard...

Spike: Yeah...she used to love it when I brought 'ome a big, fat Santa...

Willow: Uh-huh....

Spike: Used to grab' old of me and jump into my arms like a little elf.

(Willow tries to look sympathetic.)

Spike: I always 'ad a helluva hard time convincin' er to eat 'er present...

(Willow stops trying.)

Willow: Oh to me it's Disney...The Little Mermaid, actually.

Spike: Yet another hot redhead...

Willow (red): That actually wants to belong to human society...

Spike: Yeah, poor chit. Too much salt water in the brain.

Willow: What's your favorite Disney movies?

Spike: The Lion King. But I can't watch it anymore.

Willow: Why not?

Spike: One of 'em hyenas reminds me of Dru...

Willow (curious): Do vampires always morph when they bite into someone?

Spike: Yeah...the rottenness bursts through the cover.

Willow: What else changes besides the face?

Spike: We hear more, smell more, crush more...

Willow (bleak): So the victim doesn't stand a chance...

Spike: About as much as a cavity on a dentist's chair.

Willow: Does it take a lot to get a vampire to morph?

Spike: What do you mean, pet?

Willow: I mean...do you have to be hungry or angry or horny...? (blushes)

Spike (smiles): Nah...but it triples the fun.

Willow: So you could become a gruesome monster right here and now?

Spike: No, luv. (becomes serious) Not with you around.

Willow: If I could just spell my way through life, I'd be one happy witch...

Spike: So you're still tryin' to turn the odd frog into a prince...?

Willow: No! Not frogs...(shudders)

Spike (amused): What if one day your recipe says "frog's tongue" right there in bold letters?

Willow (ill-at-ease): I don't know...I'll get Xander to help me out.

Spike: What, that toad? He'd end up kidnappin' the frog and livin' happily ever after.

Willow: Every man should plant a tree, write a book and...what was it?

Spike: Break a neck?

Willow (annoyed): Have a kid, Spike.

Spike: Just tryin' to lend a phrase, pet...

Willow: So...have you ever thought of writing a book, Spike?

Spike: Yeah, but I don't think it'd sell...

Willow: Why not?

Spike: The first line'd make people kill 'emselves and the next one'd make 'em regret it.

Willow: Last week I started writing this assignment on "Walden"...

Spike: What's it about, pet?

Willow: It's about this man who leaves society and goes to live in the country, as a hermit.

Spike: Why? Was he lookin' for God among the haystacks?

Willow: More or less. He wanted to work the land and see if it would yield the meaning of life.

Spike: That'd never work for me, pet.

Willow: Why's that?

Spike: Necks don't grow on trees, luv.

Spike: So, luv...I guess this is it. We've hit the iceberg and we're going down.

Willow: That's a cheery way of saying we're finally gonna get outta here.

Spike: What if I told ya I didn't wanna get out?

Willow (surprised): I'd say the rubbing did you more harm than good.

Spike: How about dinner one of these days, luv?

Willows: It depends.

Spike (frowns): On what?

Willow: On your definition of dinner. Am I to be your date or the main course?

Spike (shocked): My date, of course! Lovely lady... (gives her a Casanova grin)

Willow: OK then, you're on. But I just wanna be friends, OK? No having or getting of any sort. And no shop-assistants and NO LOVE SPELLS!!!

Spike (shrugs): Whatever you rabbit on, luv. (Willow looks puzzled)

And now... (leans over confidentially) let me hear you say it again.

Willow (confused): Say what? (Spike arches his eyebrows eagerly)

Willow (rolls eyes and sighs): Damn.

The End...I guess

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