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.
Ten:
Buffy pulled Willow’s dresser away from the wall and glanced down the back. Odd earrings, long lost brushes and little balls of lint were nestled in the space.
“It could’ve been… uh, I could have left it somewhere,” Willow ventured from her chair. She watched helplessly as Buffy tore the room apart, pulling out drawers and scattering their contents on the bed. Her friend had no idea that Spike was providing a little commentary on what he saw through Willow’s eyes, <…Don’t forget the wicker laundry basket. Yup, that’s it, pull that puppy apart. Go on, slay it…>
It seemed she was becoming more adept at filtering his thoughts out… or perhaps he was thinking less, whatever it was didn’t matter.
The slayer watched Willow out of the corner of her eye - she was sitting silently, her face filled with expressions. Buffy wondered what thoughts the vampire entertained - she was about to ask Willow but noted she was still having internal conversations with Spike. Why can’t I have normal friends? She thought, turning back to the laundry hamper.
Spike’s laughter filled Willow’s head.
“Jeremiah was a bullfrog, Was a good friend of mine,” Willow burst out, waving her hands, trying to encourage Buffy to join in.
Her friend frowned a little and joined her tone deaf rendition of the kid’s song.
“I never understood a single word he said… But I helped something something something wine!” Willow concluded at the top of her voice.
The two girls looked at each other, smiling at the insanity of the situation.
“What was that?” Buffy asked.
A feeling of hilarity washed through Willow.
< Is that the best you can do, Red? I think my sides have split.>
“He’s saying nasty, yucky, terrible things to me, Buffy. I think you should go over and -” She made a stabbing motion with her hand, a grin spreading across her face.
< Woah, wait a minute now, I’m being punished for being a man?>
“And now he’s saying these awful things about you - about… about how silly your hair is,” Willow looked at Buffy, “Yes… yes, and how that sweater really doesn’t go with your pants.”
< Liar, liar,> he sang in her mind.
“And he’s making remarks about the dorm room,” Willow continued, on a roll.
Buffy raised an eyebrow, “Yes, and what is he saying?”
“Uh, that ‘what kind of college girls are we? We don’t have any tequila or shooters and we’re all out of Marlborough Lights’. Terrible, terrible things, Buffy.” She looked over at the slayer, who, surprisingly, was buying every single word.
She could hear Spike murmur approval, it was as if he was whispering in her ear.
The slayer returned to ransacking Willow’s side of the room, only pausing briefly when Willow suddenly jumped out of her chair.
“I’m all out of cigarettes, Buffy, I really need to go to the seven eleven - be back in a couple of hours okay?” she said quickly, shutting the door behind her.
A couple of beats later, Buffy straightened up from looking under the bed. Willow didn’t smoke and Sunnydale didn’t have a seven eleven.
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