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.
Fourteen:
Buffy threw herself down on Willow’s bed, burying her face in the pink sheets. She lay still for a few moments, collecting her thoughts, then as if in a dream, she slipped her hand under the pillow, where it collided with a hard, cold object. Her breath caught in her throat as she sat up slowly and opened the pillow case, pulling the spell book out.
His eyes flew open as pain flowed through his body.
Above him, he saw Willow standing, her arms crossed and his hipflask dangling from one hand.
“Welcome back,” she said, watching with amusement as he struggled against the chains. “As you might guess, I’ve acquired some pretty handy life skills from our little connection.” She gestured to the manacles. “And,” she continued, smiling as Spike’s panic washed over her. “I’m not at all pleased with you attacking my friends.” Willow raised an eyebrow, her head cocked to one side, “Although I don’t really like Anya much, so I might forgive you for that. In time, of course.”
He gave up fighting against the cold steel, feeling the last of his strength fizzle out. “I don’t understand…” he said, weakly.
“Well, you’re the one that knows all about these empathy spells, aren’t you, Spike?” She sat down on the edge of the tub. “Didn’t you think I’d notice you holding out on me? I mean, I am inside your head.” Willow tutted a little when he looked shocked. “Maybe you thought you could use your looks to detract from your lies. Poor, poor Spike - thinks everyone’s in love with him. Even the slayer.”
He paled at her last comment. “I don’t know what your talking about.”
“Please,” she frowned. “How dumb do you think I am? I’ve seen you chasing her, touching her when you thought you could get away with it - and a couple of times, you were close to smelling her hair. And all the time, I knew the truth - that she hates you.
“Just because you’ve been controlling what you think around me, doesn’t mean I can’t see the full picture. Especially now I know how your beady little mind works.
“You following this, Spike?” she asked, patting his leg. He growled at the touch.
Her smile widened as she continued, “When I was drunk it opened more gateways into your head, instead of shutting them down. It made me stronger,” she nodded at his disbelieving stare. “And for everything I took from you, you got a part of me. You got my guilt, my conscience - all my weaknesses - and, in return, I received your strengths.”
There was a moment of silence when the words hung in the air, waiting to be processed by Spike’s pain-dulled mind.
“Oh, and I forgot,” she said, reaching into her trouser pocket and pulling out a lipstick case. She popped it open and thrust the tiny mirror into his face. “You have a reflection now because you have a real, live soul.” She snapped the case shut and returned it to her pocket. “Aren’t you the lucky one?”
Spike was speechless, everything was starting to fall into place. “But you let me… I found out how to kill the slayer...”
Willow stood up, shaking her head. “You think I would tell you how to kill my friend? No, it was all an act. I’ve gotten really good at it throughout the years - y’see, Spike, it’s something I do often, lying to myself.”
He felt her sadden for a moment and fought back an overwhelming urge to comfort her.
“That’s a good vampire,” she cooed, stroking his hair. “You just sit here being nice and I’ll go out for a while. If you’re especially good, I might let you indulge a couple of those thoughts you tried so hard to hide.”
She breezed out of the room, leaving him frustrated and alone.
“‘A Gateway to the Mind,’” she read, her heart pounding. “‘A collection of empathy and sympathy spells for the modern warlock.’” Tears of joy worked their way down her cheeks, “I don’t believe it.”
She jumped off the bed, almost tripping in her haste, and was out of the room in moments, slamming the door so hard that the one of the girls in the dorm next door shouted, “Hey!”
None of it mattered as she flew down the stairs, through the reception area and out into the warm, afternoon air. Her thoughts were put on hold until she found herself in front of Giles’ apartment.
Buffy stumbled into the living room, clutching the book with a vice-like grip. “I got the book,” she panted, suddenly feeling the after-effects of her mile run.
Giles looked up from where he was kneeling next to the couch.
For the first time, Buffy noticed Anya, lying on the sofa, holding a wad of bandages to her neck.
“I found her when I went to the magick shop,” he explained, standing up and guiding the slayer away from where Anya lay. “Spike attacked her,” he said quietly. “He came into the shop with her, waited until her back was turned then pounced, as it were.”
“Is she badly hurt?” Buffy asked, glancing over at the couch.
Giles shook his head. “That’s the strange thing - he’s hardly broken the skin. I mean, yes, he took a little blood but he seems to have been… been gentle, almost. She’s in shock now - that’s really the extent of the damage. She’s… she’s just been nibbled a bit.”
“Weird.” Buffy frowned, then remembered the purpose of her visit. She handed the book to Giles. “I think this is what we’ve been looking for,” she stated.
He read the title and then skimmed through the pages. “Well done, Buffy,” he said, closing the volume. “We’ll need some supplies, of course, and a little time - but we’ll get her back."
Buffy tried to smile but a voice at the back of her mind kept taunting her.
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