“My most embarrassing moment?” Willow repeated Anya’s question. “There have been so many,” she laughed. “But probably the funniest was when Buffy, Xander and I were in the school Talent Show.”

“You three were in a talent show?” Spike asked incredulously. “What was your talent, a dramatic scene?” he scoffed.

“Hey, we were good,” Xander protested. “Well, at least, we didn’t suck. Not until Wills ran off the stage, and I forgot my lines... okay, we sucked,” he finished.

“Yes, you certainly did,” Giles agreed. “What?” he said defensively as the three friends glared at him. “You lot were terrible. It’s not like I’m telling you something you don’t know. At least you didn’t have to be the faculty member in charge of the whole bloody mess.”

“This is very true. And you even did a Power circle,” Buffy teased him.

“I was doing what Sid instructed me to do,” Giles reminded her.

“Do you always listen to dummies?” Xander joined in on the teasing.

Giles turned to glare at the boy. “I listen to you occasionally, don’t I?” he asked, deadpan.

“I really left myself wide open for that, didn’t I?” Xander muttered as everyone laughed. “And who told the G-man he could make a funny?”

Spike groaned. “I really don’t mind you on my lap, luv, but do you have to bounce?” he asked.

Willow nodded, taking another sip of the drink he had fixed for her. “What’s in this again?” she asked for the fourth time.

“Malibu rum, pineapple juice, and cranberry cocktail,” he reminded her. “And if you ask me again, I’m writing it on your forehead with a permanent marker,” he threatened.

“Right here?” Willow asked, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she pointed in the general direction of said-forehead.

Spike chuckled. “Yes, right there, ducks,” he confirmed, tapping her forehead lightly with his index finger.

Willow giggled and looked up at his finger, going cross-eyed with the action. “Okay, I swear I won’t ask anymore,” she promised. Then she went back to bouncing.

“Luv, why are you bouncing?” Spike asked.

“Ssh, I’m concentrating,” she admonished him, her attention on something across the room. Spike followed her gaze and watched as she levitated a novelty pencil with a pink troll on the end of it, it’s neon hair waving wildly as she began to spin it.

“Very nice, kitten,” Spike said, eyeing the pencil warily. “It is going to stay over there, isn’t it?”

Willow nodded and concentrated some more, picking up a second troll pencil and lowering both of them behind Giles’ new bean bag chair (a Christmas present from Xander) until all that could be seen was the trolls’ tiny bodies. “Look, I can do a puppet show from across the room,” she giggled, looking up at Spike. At the loss of concentration, one of the trolls dropped onto the chair, it’s body vibrating slightly with the remnants of power moving through it. Rebounding quickly, Willow turned the pink-haired troll towards the one on the chair and raised her voice into a squeaky falsetto. “Igor,” she named the fallen troll, “What on earth are you doing to the furniture?” she cried.

Spike laughed and applauded as she made the trolls take a bow. “Lovely puppet show, ducks.”

“Thank you, thank you,” she grinned, then looked up as Buffy walked over and crouched down next to them. “Hey Buffy!” she greeted her best friend.

“Hey Wills,” Buffy smiled at her friend, then motioned towards the drink Willow was still holding. “Whatcha got there?” she asked.

Willow’s eyes widened in panic. “Umm, I can’t tell you,” she whispered dramatically.

The Slayer quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why not?” she asked.

“’Cause I forgot, an’ Spike said if I ask him again, he’d write it on my forehead with a permanent marker,” the redhead wailed, then leaned in conspiratorially towards Buffy. “Did you see the puppet show?”

Buffy shook her head, and Willow grinned. “Igor did naughty things to the furniture,” she giggled.

Spike snorted in laughter at the look on Buffy’s face, until the Slayer turned and glared at him. “Will you please make sure she gets home safely?” she asked him. “Riley and I are leaving now.”

“Bloody hell,” he swore when he realized he wouldn’t be able to go inside without Willow’s invitation. “Willow,” he called softly, not wanting to wake her up, but needing to if she was going to stay here for the night.

Willow just sighed and snuggled against his chest. “Bugger,” he said softly, then turned around and began walking towards the mansion.

A cold arm.

“Eep!” she squeaked, sitting up quickly, then immediately regretting it as she groaned in pain.

“Morning, pet,” Spike chuckled, awakened by her movements. “Hangover?”

“Yes,” Willow moaned, trying hard not to make any sudden movements.

Pushing her gently back into the pillows, Spike crawled out of bed. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, then went out to the kitchen to get her something for the hangover.

“Thank you,” Willow smiled up at him when he returned with aspirin and fresh orange juice.

After taking the aspirin, she quirked an eyebrow at him. “Thelma sheets?” she teased. “And how did I get into this shirt?” Willow asked, looking down at the soft white t-shirt she was wearing.

“Oh, come on, luv, I can’t believe you don’t remember the night of wild and crazy monkey sex we had,” he teased her.

“No, we didn’t,” Willow giggled, then blushed. “We didn’t, did we?” she asked.

“No,” Spike sighed. “You woke up as I was taking off your shoes and insisted on changing by yourself, unfortunately.”

Willow giggled even harder at the pathetic look on his face. “Oh goddess,” she moaned, holding her head. “Is it okay if I go back to sleep until this wears off?” she asked him, her green eyes pleading.

“Of course, luv,” he said, taking the glass from her as she closed her eyes. He went to the kitchen to rinse it out, and when he returned, she was already asleep. Climbing into the bed, he scooted close and snuggled into her warmth, his arm thrown across her waist. As he drifted off to sleep, he murmured one last thing. “Merry Christmas, luv.”