Title: The Spike Experience
Author: Blue Zen
Email: i.love.spike@bloodyhell.co.uk
Distribution: Any archives that want it, take it! I’d love an e-mail with your site address though…
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Willow casts a spell, Spike has to suffer
Notes: Thanks to everyone who’s responded to this fic. Like every fanfic writer, I live off feedback so drop me a line.

Okay, onto the story…


One:

He reached out for her, drew her close and then… the screen went blank.

Spike stared in disbelief at the TV, his mouth opening and closing silently. After a few moments of quietly cursing the broken set, he rose, grabbing a black comforter from the corner of his bed. Glancing at his watch, Spike threw the blanket over his head and stepped out into the sunlight.

He hated moving outside during the day - even under the cover of a thick sheet, the scent of singed flesh assaulted his senses. If only he hadn’t lost that damn ring to the Slayer, he could walk tall in the sunshine, instead of hiding under a tarp of a foul smelling wool-blend.

People stared at him as he ran down the main street, hugging the blanket to his torso. On other days, he may have scowled or shouted at them but today he was focused. Never breaking stride, he hustled along the edge of the shopping district, past the empty bars and closed nightclubs, where the smell of young, pure blood used to tempt him nightly, and onto the tract of housing that separated the good side of town from the bad.

He knew the house immediately - it was a testament to the taste of those who owned it. Bronzed squirrels clung helplessly to the roughcast wall, arranged in what Xander’s parents may have believed looked like a playful, careless manner. He leapt the small side gate, almost catching his blanket on a twisted, ornamental spike.

Muttering over his carelessness, Spike moved along the side of the house, stopping above the small, slanted basement window. He looked at its width then at his waist. He could get through - if he cut off his arms.

“Why do things have to be so bloody complicated?” he breathed, stalking around to the back of his house. He tried the door handle then he knocked.

The smell of burnt skin was getting stronger and he was beginning to feel pin pricks of heat on his hands and back. He knocked louder then, satisfied that no-one was home, backed away from the door, ready to break it with his shoulder. He counted to three before launching himself at the imitation oak. It swung open, taking him by surprise.

He barrelled into the kitchen, knocking his saviour to the floor. “Bloody hell, you took your time,” Spike said, stepping over Willow. “Now where’s the TV?”

She stood up, straightening her skirt. “Uh, Xander?” she called, keeping her eyes fixed on Spike.

The blond vampire raised his eyes skyward. “Look, Red, all I want is -”

Xander appeared in the doorway. He was trying unsuccessfully to hide a splintered chair leg behind his back. On seeing Spike, he discarded his weapon. “Oh, it’s only you.”

“We’re wasting time.” Spike opened the refrigerator, looked inside then let the door fall closed, “All I want is a TV and a bag of crisps or something. Is that so much to ask?”

Xander and Willow exchanged looks.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you - pretend I’m a guest, pretend-”

“That you’re someone we like?” Xander raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, piss off.”

The vampire breezed past him into the lounge, drawing the curtains and switching on the television in one deft movement. “Got any food?” he yelled before collapsing in on Xander’s settee.

“Why did I keep putting off that ‘uninvite spell’?” Xander asked, reaching into a cupboard.

Willow glanced into the living room, “I think now’s the time where I say ‘I told you so.’”

The two were interrupted by Spike shouting at the TV. They both looked around the doorframe, watching as he yelled instructions at the characters on screen.

“What I wouldn’t give to have a few minutes in that beady little mind of his,” Xander smirked, popping open a can of Coke.




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