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.
Eleven:
Spike searched in the crypt for some clean glasses and a cloth to cover the makeshift table. In the end, he settled with a novelty mug he’d stolen from Giles’ apartment and a tattered paper cup. He cleaned them carefully with an old shirt before spreading the garment over the square pile of gravestones and setting the cup and mug in the centre.
She was close to the cemetery now, weaving through the usual Friday night crowd that had gathered around the Bronze, instinctively looking over her shoulder now and again.
He shrugged, dragging two chairs from the back of the room to rest near the table.
He heard her laugh at his thoughts. It was a soft sound that filled him with waves, little ripples of… of… there wasn’t a word to describe it - it was purely sensual.
“If you’re going to start thinking those sort of thoughts again, I’ll just turn around and leave,” Willow said, standing in the doorway.
“Promises, promises,” muttered the vampire while Willow blushed scarlet. He looked at her turning crimson, his head cocked to one side. “You know, Red. Much as I love seeing you in full Technicolor, the first rule of embracing your dark side is not to turn beetroot all the time.”
She nodded, setting her shopping bags on the bed. “So what do you suggest?” Willow asked, starting to unpack the things she brought.
“We have to desensitise you,” he stated.
Willow shrugged. < I thought some plying with alcohol would do us both the world of good.>
“Quite right,” Spike said, unscrewing the top from a not-quite-full bottle. “Although, it looks like someone started without me.”
< Yes, Dutch courage.> Willow emptied the rest of the bits and pieces onto the bed, sorting food into one pile, bags of blood into another. “I brought you as much as they had, just in case Harmony doesn’t come back.” < I hope she doesn’t come back, stupid blonde bitch.>
Spike was surprised, “Willow, that’s the first nasty thing I’ve heard you think. We should celebrate - now you’re only a massacre away from being one of the gang.”
“Do you think I could be bad?” she asked, remembering the vampire version of herself with a shudder.
< You would be a stunning vampire.> Spike reached up and stroked her cheek, the feel of his cool hand on her warm skin made her body tingle, a sensation which carried over to him. “I can imagine you now,” he brought his hand down to cup her chin. “Luminous with an air of mystery. You could be ruthless. Seduce and destroy...” The words hung in the air for a moment then Willow pulled away.
< I don’t want to be ruthless.> “I just want a taste of what it’s like to be a little… you know, slightly wicked. I don’t want to destroy or… or seduce.”
“You’re babbling in your thoughts,” Spike stated. “How very endearing.”
“Endearing?”
The blond vampire edged around the table and took a seat, then invited Willow to do the same. “It could be the tequila you had earlier, dulling your senses.”
She nodded mutely. She was just beginning to understand the spell..
Spike poured them drinks while Willow mused. He was becoming a little anxious about her ability to over analyse things. Most people went out to have fun but Willow - well, she drew up a plan of fun, broke it down into parts, giving careful thought to each one, then, just as she was about to step out of the door, discovered that Saturday night was three days ago.
< Willow? Can you hear me or is the alcohol really stopping my thoughts getting through?>
He waited, trying to sense a change in her internal “good versus bad” ramblings but found none. He smiled, pretending to listen to Willow’s monologue on how liberating bribing an adult to buy spirits.
Willow sipped at her drink, oblivious.
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