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Weekend Fun -- by Luisa
Rating: G
Description: Willow and Spike play Poker.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Giles was sick of Spike. The sentiment was mutual, but glossed over by a heavy dose of amicable sarcasm. The thing was, the house wasn't big enough for both of them and there was no spell that could break down some walls and create uncharted territory. So Spike paced and bemoaned his fate and Giles frowned helplessly and drank considerably more brandy than usual. Willow witnessed the status quo amusedly, but said nothing. Listening to Spike's mutterings had become a highly entertaining part of her weekends and she didn't wish for things to change. Parachuting on Giles' place for a dose of Spike was taking her mind off the pain she'd rather forget or, at least, numb down for a while. Spike's comments on her homework were decidedly funny as well. He never understood what essays were for, even though he was quick to point out that her handwriting was illegible and that if she wanted good marks, sucking up to the professors would do the trick.
"You gotta be subtle, though. Don't go kissing their ass too noisily or anything like that. Play it cool, be sweet...I think you can do that, eh, pet?" Willow had a terrible time trying to contain her rebellious laughter, so she usually got up abruptly and headed towards the kitchen, praying that Giles had remembered to buy some Coke.
"Spike! Do you want anything?", she shouted.
"Yeah! My bite back, please!", he shouted back.
"Sorry, I don't perform miracles. If I did, you wouldn't catch me at UC Sunnydale.", she laughed.
"I thought you were one kick-ass Wicca! What happened?", Spike sulked.
"Nothing. Even kick-ass Wiccas have their limits. Besides, I like you when you're tame."
"You're just about the only one who does, pet.", Spike muttered.
"Look on the bright side: you're living at Giles', you don't pay rent and you have your own mug. What could be better?"
"Living in a five-star crypt with a minion-butler, having the Slayer polish my boots every night and sinking my fangs into every Sunnydalian entity on two legs."
"Demons included?", Willow shivered.
"Yeah. I have a special talent to break necks without getting my fangs wet.", Spike smirked.
"Hm...maybe that'll be useful one day. In the very distant future."
Giles sighed with the whole nonsense. "Don't encourage him, Willow. He'll just grow worse and worse."
Spike lifted his head from the TV Guide comically. "There's always room for improvement, G-Man." Giles gasped at the name. "Not you too?!"
Spike shrugged. "It was actually the first smart thing that came out of Xapper's weak-lipped mouth. Damn, Passions' not on till 6...", he growled.
Willow came back with a steaming mug of elixir, with a half-smile on her lips. She handed him a Coke. Spike frowned. "What's this?" Willow grinned.
"In Rome do as the Romans do. Get used to it." Spike jumped up and grabbed the mug from her fingers. Willow laughed. "Hey!" Spike leaned back, glaring at her.
"You're becoming too much like the Slay-ermm, Buffy, little girl."
"Good for me.", Willow smiled back.
"Nightmarish for me.", Spike groaned. Willow went back to her homework reluctantly. "Red, won't you play cards with me?", Spike begged. "I'm so bored...". Willow looked at him pityingly. "Spike, you should read a book. Do something nice for your mind today. Give your brain-cells a happy." Spike growled menacingly.
"My brain-cells aren't the intellectual type. They never went to UC Sunnyhell."
"Well, maybe it's time they did."
"Nah...they've graduated from draining university with honours and are now taking a year off."
"Well, let me finish analysing this poem and then I'll play." Spike leaned forwards, curious about her doings. "What's it about? Some nancy-boy who's dying to get into his chick's knickers but has a helluva lot to whine about first?"
Willow frowned, puzzled. "Yeah, you could put it that way." Spike smiled.
"How would you put it?"
"Well...there's this guy who just dumped this girl who was madly in love with him and now he's grovelling for her attention again." Spike was at a loss.
"That's not what it says there. At least, if I can still read right..."
Willow glared at him. "I'm giving it a personal interpretation, OK?"
"Too personal, apparently. It's an Ozified approach to literature, eh?"
"Yeah. With a dash of Willow." Spike shrugged.
"Well, they go for that sort of thing these days. Your professors'll probably applaud.", he answered, taking a big gulp from his hourly snack. Willow scribbled rapidly on her notebook, green pupils travelling over the lines. There was something bothering her. Something burning on her forehead. Eyes. She looked up and saw Spike staring at her with a highly diverted expression on his cocky face.
"Next time remind me to put some rat-poison into your mug, OK? I tend to be forgetful about committing murder."
"Rat-poison doesn't do it, pet. Rats and vampires have a lot in common. We both have fangs and like to use them, for one."
"And you both dig sewers and other interesting dwellings."
"Right now, I wouldn't mind a nice, cosy sewer. Anything's better than Tweedy's dungeon. The only thing I get to play with is that old cross-bow over there. I mean, bloody hell, doesn't the man know they went out of fashion five centuries ago?"
"It's a revival thing, Spike. Besides, it goes well with Buffy's leather jacket."
"It goes well with mine too, but you don't see me slinging one over my shoulder."
"You're not a Slayer."
"Thank God for small mercies.", he muttered.
"Now, are you gonna let me finish this or not?", Willow sighed impatiently.
"Hm...I'm inclined not to, pet."
"You're a spoiled brat.", Willow moaned, shutting her book with a thud.
"There's nothing spoiled about me, Red. Maybe a little damaged, but still in working condition.", Spike smirked.
Willow had a feeling the conversation had gained new undertones of something she'd rather not delve into. She got up and fetched a battered pack of cards. Spike was grinning like a young boy. "Poker!" Willow was impatient. "You always win!"
"That's cause you never pay attention."
"I always end up owing you money. It's not fair!"
"We can always play for something else, if you want. I, for instance, don't mind playing for those little numbers you're wearing today.". Spike licked his lips provocatively. Willow was alarmed. "No way! I'd rather go bankrupt!"
Spike shrugged unconcernedly. "Suit yourself."
Half an hour later, Willow was grinning delightedly. "I can't believe I'm winning. Giles, I'm kicking Spike's ass at cards! Come here!", she shouted at the relaxed Watcher. Giles looked up lazily from his "Country" magazine. "That's great, Willow...", he replied vaguely. Willow stared at him eagerly. "Come witness my victory! Come on!", she begged. Giles could never resist the red-headed witch. Sighing tiredly, he got up, heading over to the game-table. Sitting down, he decided to watch the challenging game for a few minutes, though with long, mournful looks at his beloved "Country" magazine on the couch. After ten minutes of Poker, he could barely believe his eyes. Spike was cheating. Against himself. And he knew Giles had noticed. As Giles opened his mouth to utter some perfectly innocent comment on the addictive nature of card games, he felt a heavy boot come down on his foot. The pain wiped the words from his brain. He said nothing, presenting Spike with one of his blackest glares. Getting up, he returned to his weekend reading, ignoring the two nonsensical youths. The game ended with a thumping victory for Willow Rosenberg and a bitterly humiliating defeat for Mr William the Bloody. Willow was ecstatic.
"Pet, if you're not careful, you'll fall off your chair under the weight of happiness.", Spike murmured, contemplating his little witch's glee.
"Don't worry, joy prevents me from feeling any pain.", Willow grinned back. "This calls for a celebration. Another mug?", she smiled charmingly.
"Poisonless, if possible. Though I guess murder is kinda out of your mind, at least until I thump you next weekend.", Spike smirked. "No mercy, Red."
"Ha! You couldn't thump a stuffed koala bear right now.", Willow tossed back and then ran away as a very angry-looking Spike jumped up from his comfortable chair and lunged at her. Giles looked up dazedly. "Kids! Watch the furniture!", he shouted lamely, burying himself in the countryside's delights once more.
The End
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