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.
Twelve:
Across town in the Sunnydale public library, Spike laughed. The sound echoed around the deserted stacks, crisp and clear like Willow’s thoughts in his mind. The emotions that Willow felt running through her were extreme to say the least. Before the bottle and a half of tequila, she had been able to make sense of the feelings but now that the liquor had clouded her mind, she had lost the ability to hear Spike’s thoughts.
A loud thumping roused Giles out of his sleep. He awoke with a start, his muscles screaming in pain as he jerked upright on the couch, where he had been dozing.
When Willow opened her eyes, it was almost morning. A strange, half-light illuminated the crypt, creeping in through the cracks in the door and a small hole in the masonry.
She struggled with consciousness for a moment, her head heavy with stagnant thoughts and alcohol. The room, blurred and misshapen, came gradually into focus and she smiled to herself.
He chuckled a little before turning his attention back to the computer screen.
His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard as he recalled the stories that Willow had recounted last night.
Spike allowed himself a moment of gloating, watching as the newsgroups updated themselves to include his message… but when he saw it on screen, his smile faded.
When she first sat up in bed, a wave of happiness had assaulted her, causing Willow to laugh out loud. Then came an immense feeling of pride but now, her whole body was shaking and vast and black depression had settled on her mind. Underneath it all flowed loss and regret.
It was still dark in his apartment: thick blackout curtains hung in the living room, a reminder of Willow’s current condition. He had been hoping that she would drop in, reassure him that she was coping with the thing living inside her, ask him for help - anything, really. Giles just wanted to see her face, to make sure that, while they pottered around in the dusty volumes of his book collection, that she was still there, as warm and human as always.
Giles struggled to his feet as the din continued, steering his aching body towards the door.
He fumbled with the key for a moment before the lock clicked then he was knocked on his back as the door swung open violently. Giles had hardly touched the floor before a hand caught his shirt, pulling him upright and pinning him forcefully against the wall.
It was then that the world swung back into focus, leaving him staring Spike. The vampire had a look of grim determination on his face and his clothes were more tattered than usual.
“I need help,” Spike stated, emphasising each word. “You need to get Willow out of my head now or I swear, I’ll kill her.”
Giles opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
“I was fine until you lot started messing around here - because of you, the slayer and that bloody witch, I’ve been humiliated so many times I would die of shame if I had any breath left. I used to have a great life,” his grip loosened a little as he slipped into a reverie. “I could feed when I wanted, kill whoever I pleased and Dru loved me. You took all that away and now,” he paused, clutching Giles’ shirt with renewed purpose. “Now, my thoughts aren’t even my own. The one thing I believed you people couldn’t touch - but, hell, was I wrong.”
“Y… you’re hurting me,” Giles breathed, but Spike wasn’t to be stopped.
“One minute I’m uploading files to www.how-to-kill-the-slayer.com and the next, I’m all weepy and guilt ridden.”
The watcher saw the redness around his eyes and smelled the blood on his clothes.
“I like being evil,” he stated, his face inches from Giles’. “I love the fact that, no matter how good you people are to me, I can still stab you in the back - in a heartbeat. I don’t want to be some prissy soul-searching underdog that crawls around the sewers, looking for meaning in my life. I have meaning - my purpose is to be bad.”
With that sentiment, he let go of the watcher and Giles slid down the wall, surprise etched on his features.
“I want you to take this thing out of me now, or the next time you’ll see Red, there’ll be pieces missing.” He stepped away from the watcher and pulled his leather duster over his head. “Don’t bother looking for us,” Spike spat. “I know how to lie low for a while.” Then he was gone, stepping into the morning light and slamming the door behind him.
Next Chapter