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.
Aftermath:
“Where the hell’s my television?” Giles yelled in frustration, pulling aside yet more boxes of books and LPs in search of his battered colour tv.
Willow had pleaded with Xander, asking him to stop and reconsider, but no, he barrelled past her, throwing open the door to Spike’s crypt.
The vampire was smoking quietly in a corner, enjoying the afternoon. His eyes kept wandering over to his new television, which he had given pride of place in the middle of the room. It was a little dusty and the picture sometimes became fuzzy but still, he loved it dearly.
When Xander burst in, Spike wasn’t surprised. In fact, he had been expecting the confrontation for a few days now.
“I’ve come to kill you,” the dark haired boy said dramatically, waving a stake at Spike.
Willow stepped into the crypt, hanging her head. “And I’ve come as the voice of reason,” she said, refusing to meet the vampire’s eyes.
“You bit Anya,” Xander said, faltering slightly. In his mind, there had been some reaction from Spike, a little panic, the movement of an eyebrow - anything. He was disappointed to say the least. “You know, my girlfriend.” Still nothing.
Xander shrugged, turning away, defeated. “I can’t kill him now,” he whispered to Willow.
She nodded, “I know, it’s those puppy dog eyes of his isn’t it?”
The comment solicited a raised eyebrow from Spike. He smiled slightly, taking another drag at his cigarette.
“Well,” the teen turned back to his adversary. “Just… just don’t do it again, okay?”
Spike shrugged, still staring intently at Willow.
“Alrighty then, I’ll leave now,” Xander started to shuffle out the door but his friend caught his eye. ‘Wait for me,’ she mouthed, then turned her attention to Spike.
When Xander had stepped outside, she pulled up a chair and sat down opposite the blond vampire.
“I know you’re not exactly happy with me,” she started, for the first time meeting his cold stare. “I just hope we can go past it - you know, make things right.”
He stubbed his cigarette out on the chair then stood up, breaking eye contact. “I’m angry - y’know. I’m a person, not a bloody fairground attraction. Was it fun? Playing with me?” he spat. “Having ‘The Spike Experience’ - witnessing firsthand the innermost desires of a real, live vampire? Well, ha, bloody, ha, you’ve had your fun - now I’d appreciate not seeing you, for a while.” He turned away from her, fists clenched in anger.
Willow stood, moving forward to touch his shoulder, but he remained in the same position, standing with his back to her. “Spike, it’s okay to have feelings. I mean, you’re more human than most of the people I know.”
He gave a bitter chuckle. “In this town? Why am I not surprised?”
“I know you’re not as bad as you say, Spike. I know what you feel and, to tell you the truth, I feel the same way.” She felt his shoulder heave under her hand. He was laughing silently.
“Wait, I’ve seen this film - it’s where she begins to think of him as a man, not a demon. There’s a little angst, then a period of soul searching which is swiftly followed by a lot of shagging. Am I right?”
Willow’s hand connected with his jaw.
Xander’s head had snaked around the crypt door, “For a guy with a psychic connection you sure get bitch slapped a lot.”
Seeing the looks he was getting, Xander grimaced and disappeared back around the door. “Sorry,” they heard him mutter.
“You were right to hit me,” Spike said, opening his arms wide. “I was out of line and if you want to do it again, feel free.”
Willow smiled a little. “No, I think I’m done now,” she started to move towards the door. “Gotta get back to being boring, old Willow.”
“There’s nothing boring about you, Red,” he said, quietly, hoping Xander was too far away to hear. “Your friends - they all think you’re good, ol’ Willow. Slow yet reliable. Always there for someone to lean on, never a bother.” He took her hands, “When Oz left, they didn’t give you the time of day but when Angel sauntered off to Los Angeles, it was a bloody ‘support-fest’ for the slayer.”
She nodded. “It’s just something that I have to deal with - it comes with being one of the gang.”
He laughed a little. “You have so much to deal with, I’m surprised you didn’t snap long ago. You have serious issues.”
“I’ve got issues?” she sounded hopeful.
“Lots and lots of issues - so many, in fact, that your mind’s like the archives of Rolling Stone magazine.
“I can always help you work them out. You could come round and… and be helped,” the sentence rolled off into silence as she stepped closer to him.
“I’d like that.” Her breath was warm against his skin.
There was a moment, where they both stood in comfortable silence. At length, Willow broke away, freeing her hands from Spikes’.
“It’s weird not having you in here,” she tapped her head. “I feel normal again - except I have memories of nineteenth century England… and… and of killing people.”
Spike nodded. “At least you took the scenic route. Me? I’ve still got memories of shagging wolfboy - you could have at least packed them up when you moved out.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, scuffing her shoes on the stone floor of the crypt.
There was another long pause but this time, the silence was awkward. They both stared at their feet.
“Well,” Willow said, at length. “I better be going.”
“Yeah,” Spike muttered, turning back to his new tv.
“I’ll miss you, too,” she said, moving to the door and then she was outside in the sunshine, after what seemed like an eternity in the dark.
Spike went to the door of his crypt and, standing in shadow, watched as she made her way through the graveyard, Xander in tow.
“Turn back,” he whispered, but she walked on, out of the cemetery and out of his sight.
He paused for a moment, glancing at the clock above the mantle. Ten minutes before “Passions” - if he drove fast, he could make it to Xander’s house in five.
“So much trouble over a soap opera,” he chided himself, pulling on his coat and locking the apartment.
The End of “The Spike Experience"