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Willow drinking whiskey makes as much sense as... a gothed-out Willow destroying the world. Granted, she can surprise.
Yet there she was, slumped over the bar at Toby's with a bottle she could've got drunk just looking at. I should get her home, but I didn't know where that was, so I dragged her back to my place. She kept crying about Kennedy.
I dropped her on my bed, and was thinking of calling a witch-sitter when she looked at me with those big eyes and I knew it was confession time. I sat on the bed and she told me about the break-up. I nodded and smiled, getting slowly bored until she said something important.
'They all leave.'
You'd think this was just normal break-up whining, but it's a big point.
'Yeah, they do,' I told her. 'They don't mean to, but they do.'
I patted her hand and started to get up, since we'd got to the point, but she pulled me back down and out of balance. I fell on top of her. 'Don't you dare,' she hissed, and there's a bit of the dark goddess in her then. I laughed and said 'Okay.'
It's not my thing; I'd tried it, but I still prefer a guy. But this time – this was beyond anybody else. Later she swore it wasn't magic, but I don't believe it. It was, one way or another, though she smelled like whiskey and tasted like tears. Willow Rosenberg. She really can surprise.