|
|
Twilight -- by Luisa
Rating: G
Description: Willow and Spike fight.
Note: Dedication - ToJenny again, cause she's great.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Almost dark. And not even six yet. Stillness hung on the face of things, transforming them into non-beings. Nothing. Willow watched the darkness and then the moon. Almost full. Where is he now? Oz...where are you? Walking faster, she reached her destination. A small, Italian-looking villa with a courtyard. Where Giles sometimes sits. And researches. And waits for Buffy. Who doesn't come over very often. Sigh. Poor Giles. The moon doesn't help. It makes poetry and poetry hurts. Does it hurt Spike too? I wonder...Willow stopped, gazing at the creamy exterior of Giles' house. Silence. Why am I sad? Do I ring or knock? Does it matter...let magic deal with it. I'm tired. Willow took a deep breath, gulping down the outside air and entered. Silence still. Indoor silence. Different...Spike was sitting in front of the TV. It's switched off. Why is he sad? No. He is not sad. Looking up to confront the intruder, Spike cramped his muscles. It's her...Red hair, small face, strange clothes. Foreign to me. Come in, stranger. Willow looks at the vampire. Alien. I can't read you. Willow steps inside the dusky living-room. Giles is already by the corner, pouring his attention over an old manuscript. Tired...old. Poor Giles. Smiles as he sees her. Familiar, safe. Comforting. Grown-up, but still a child. Hello, Willow. Make yourself comfortable. Willow smiled at him and turned her attention to Spike, after having lost Giles'. He is still gazing at her. Why does he do that? Willow moves to an armchair and sits down heavily. I'm dissolving into a chair. Pet. Huh? Red. There he goes again. Grinning. Oh well, as long as he's not moody. Hate moods. Vamp moods. Loved Angel, hated his moods. Willow stared at the empty TV for a few minutes before returning Spike's look. He seemed content with staring, not in the least disturbed by the fact that it's impolite. Politeness, pet? What the hell for? I know you, you know me. Why be bloody polite? Willow sighs and gets up. Why do I bother? Moves over to the TV and switches it on. Spike frowns, then shrugs. Spent all day alone. Giles left him there, like yesterday's paper. Thanks, mate. For bloody nothing. Spike glares at the Watcher. Why does the man bother? Monsters, ghouls, vampires, demons, werewolves...Spike glances at the girl. She looks sad. His gaze rests on her quiet profile for a moment, then floats to another. Less quiet. Impatient. Giles couldn't decipher the manuscript this morning. Is at it again. Poor wanker...instead of enjoying the witch. Pet, get me something to drink. Made her angry. Willow swiftly turned on her heel and frowned at him. I am not your personal maid, Spike. Spike smiles. My personal maiden. Doesn't say it. She's another's. Gra...Gra....what is his name? It's Graham, Spike, and please stop staring at me. I'll get you a beer if you stop it. Spike shrugs. OK. The room shrinks when she's not in it. She filled up this hole with light. I can't look straight at it. My head hurts. Pet, and an aspirine too. Heard her gasp. Rushes back into the room. Concerned. Spike, don't mix aspirines with alcohol. It's dangerous. Spike was startled by her vehemence. Green eyes shone in the dimness like two pools of liquid jade. Persuade me, pet. Willow looked at Spike, half puzzled. Is he even listening...oh hell. She doesn't bring him a beer. Brought water. And aspirine. Spike glows. Does she care? Willow in turmoil. Green eyes take in the room. Dark. Giles in a corner. TV off. Buffy not here. He is. Anxious, she smiles. Always smiles when she's anxious. Cover-up. Spike saw through it. If I try a bit, I can hear her mind. Graham...where's Graham? Hm. No. Try again, Spike. Willow is smiling thinly, nervously. Fiddles with the zipper on her blue jacket. Buffy! Spike focused, bringing his mind into fusion with hers. Aha! Eureka. The werewolf. Willow lowers her gaze. Hiding tears. Spike looks away, embarassed. Vampires don't cry. Salt water...dropping...softer than rain. Spike, turn on the TV. He gave her the remote. Let her have it...hands busy. Sound and images. Just like us, pet. Only less interesting. Willow looks at him once more. He's inside her head. Triumphant. She got angry and stood up, pacing like a trapped creature. Spike didn't bat an eyelid. He knows. Willow shut down her mind, barred her feelings. Alas, poor lamb, I'm in. NO! Willow flees from the discovery. Spike is not looking at her. He gazes at the TV, seemingly immersed in a flood of flashes. Willow stares at his cool profile. I can read you too. Spike's eyes snap back to her. Depthless, cold. Violent. Willow had the upper-hand now, it was hers. Eyelashes hide nothing. Limpid gaze on his face. Go, mind! I'm in, too. Spike is furious. Gets up abruptly, startling Giles. The Watcher stares. What is going on, you two? Willow sits down on the arm-chair, quiet as a mouse. No gloating. Spike is pacing like a restless animal. Glanced at her just then. Witch. Willow stares at the TV, absorbing the superfluous. Trash, pet. It's trash...look at me. Willow doesn't look. Spike is getting desperate. Do I have a heart? Willow looks at him. You do. Giles has returned to the manuscript. Less complicated than the rest. God...I feel old. And Buffy's not here. There is a war inside the room. Willow is winning. But Spike doesn't mind. My heart's a liar. Willow took the remote and switched off the TV. No more fiction. Gets up and moves towards the vampire. Glides as if on ice. Blues eyes swallow her. Come in. Giles doesn't look up...too busy. Buffy needs this tonight. Red is next to the vampire. Willow looked up at Spike and smiled. Then stepped away, putting a safety-distance between them. Graham. Ha! That fool...Willow's eyes burn for a second. Don't! Spike lowers his mockery. Shields off...Willow knows. She knew it before. A year ago. Spike banged the discarded remote on the table. Giles jumps. SPIKE! I'M WORKING! Spike simmers, tosses him a contemptuous glance. Eyes dart to the witch. She is tidying up. Hands flowed from object to object. If I focus...Willow halts. Don't even try it, mister. Too late. Hands rest on a book, Spike moans. Willow is alarmed. Dropped the book. Spike jumps, startled. Breathe, mate. Willow picks up the book, eyes lowered. Wrath. The air crackles. Giles glances, lost...Willow? Willow moved towards the Watcher, eyes concerned. Giles smiles. Good girl. Fetch me some brandy, would you...please? Spike looks out the window, at the night. Heavy, dull...bright. Willow watches his back. Outlined by stars. The vampire turned around. Gotcha! Willow shrugs airily and obeys a request. Here, Giles. Go easy on it. Spike snorts. Yeah, right. He's an old sponge. Willow's boiling. Turning away from the table, she dropped herself on the couch. Spike joins her there. Why so nervous, pet? Willow glares darkly. Don't come in, Spike. Spike smirks. Why, are you indecent? Red-hot blood under my skin. Can't help it, he saw me. Sees me now. Spike lays back on the pillows, sighing contentedly. Stop it, stop it, stop it...Blond hair turns to red one. Why should I? Still fiddling with the zipper, Willow considers her options. Go ahead, I'm all ears, Red. SPIKE! Slender body off the couch, slipping away into beyond. Spike whistles a tune...eyes on the starry window. the vampire got up and hunted down a beer. Snaps it open with his teeth. Willow stared...Spike grinned. Fangs. Useful. Willow snorts and turns away. Kept your victims satisfied. Red! Green eyes flash merrily against blue ones. What? Spike got up and moved towards the girl. Giles is drinking. Oh Lord, I've spilled some on the manuscript. Use your sleeve, you moron. Giles's eyes brim with frustration. Yes, thank you, Spike. Please shut up. Spike wasn't looking at him. Giles bowed his head in exhaustion. Buffy...Willow is calmly waiting by the window. A tiny star...Oz? Do you hear me? The vampire stands next to the girl. No! Graham! The witch turns away from the casement abruptly and is scared. Wall. Look at me, Red. No! Pupils search for Giles...not there. Spike waits. Stalks. Willow had enough. Trying not to collide with the menace, she grabbed on to Graham for support. Spike rolled his eyes. Whatever. Silly litle girl. Willow looked away...furious. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME???? Spike dropped down on the couch, arms behind neck. Silence invades darkness. Willow is getting desperate. Green searches blue. Please...Spike has won the war. Looking at her, he crushed. A net over your mind, pet. Willow shrugs and smirks. I don't give a damn. Giles looks up slowly. Who won then?
Tell the author what you think: