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.
Three:
“It’s mine and you’re not taking it without a fight.” There was a pause while Xander slapped his head in mock realisation. “I’m sorry, I forgot - you can’t fight me. Oh, well, that saves some time.”
Spike scowled at him. “Look, I’ll just sneak in one day when your not here and take it.” He lifted the television once more, “You may as well let me have the damn thing now.” He strode towards the door but Xander moved to block the way.
“Give me the TV.”
“You come any closer and I’ll drop it,” Spike threatened.
“You wouldn’t.”
The vampire raised an eyebrow, “Try me.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting your male bonding,” Buffy said, prying Spike’s fingers from the sides of the TV and then pulling it out of his grasp.
Xander smiled in triumph. “Didn’t hear you come in, Buff.”
"Your mother let me in.” She placed the set back on its stand, “She said Willow was here a while ago, I was just wondering if you knew where she was going?”
“I think she was headed over to Giles’.”
Spike, who had been observing the interchange with little interest, slipped out of the basement and, pulling the blanket over his head, stepped into the evening light. Now, Giles - there was someone who wouldn’t even notice his TV missing…
He strode along the suburban street, back into the town centre then, turning sharly off the main route, he ducked under a garden fence before finding himself in front of Giles’ apartment. By this time, the night had taken hold, eliminating the last rays of afternoon sunshine.
The sky was dark blue with ripples of red and ochre on the horizon. Spike looked carefully at the sky, judging the time, then cast aside his woollen shawl, throwing it over a nearby gargoyle, before striding up the steps to the apartment, taking them two at a time.
Hopefully, this would only take a few minutes and he would be back in his crypt in time for the weekly Days of Our Lives omnibus. He was contemplating the easiest way in when the door swung open and Giles pulled him inside.
“What the-”
“Oh, do shut up,” Giles commanded, dragging the startled Spike over to his couch then shutting the door. “I need your help.”
There was a flicker of hope in the vampire’s eyes. “Fighting the forces of darkness?"
Giles stared at him for a moment, retracing his line of thought. “No, I wanted your opinion,” he held up two ties, “black or red?”
“Red,” Spike said automatically, then frowned. “You need my advice on fashion. That’s all?” Then it sunk in: to the watcher, slayer and her slayerettes, he was simply Spike, a very blonde, very harmless, very pale, waste of space.
“Yes, well, thank you.” Giles threaded the red tie through his collar and started the knot, “Is there something you came for?”
Somehow, ‘your TV’ didn’t quite sound right, so Spike did something he was unnervingly good at - he lied. “I heard a rumour about a nest near the old school, I was wondering if you had it covered.”
“Yes, Buffy took care of that last night,” Giles started. “Is that all you’re here for?”
Spike avoided the question. “Do you have any blood left over from when I was here? It’s just I’m finding it harder and harder to find seven eleven’s that stock pig’s blood,” he swept past Giles into the kitchen. The watcher followed close behind.
Spike’s eyes settled on the fridge.
“I’ll get a mug for you,” Giles said, opening a cupboard door. “Buffy’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed, deciding now would be a great time to flex those evil muscles. Even if he couldn’t physically hurt anyone, he could still take part in the age old sport of ‘mixing it’. “You all must think I’m blind. I see things as they are, it’s like a sixth sense - hell, it is a sixth sense.” He paused, waiting for Giles to take the bait.
“What do you think you know?” Giles intoned, reaching for a cup.
“I know all about you and Buffy.” His lips curled into a smile, watching as the watcher’s back tensed.
Giles closed the cabinet door gently then turned to Spike. The vampire was lighting his first cigarette of the day, his pale fingers shaking slightly.
“I’ve seen the way you look at her, Watcher. She’s your reason for living - always has been, always will be. And y’know what hurts?” He flicked his lighter shut, “You don’t even feature in her top ten things to do. She’d rather chase farm boys and vampires than spend time with you - a useless, boring, old man.” Spike replaced the lighter in his inside pocket. In retrospect, if he had been paying more attention, he may have avoided the blow.
“My God, Giles, you’ve killed him,” Xander said, kicking Spike’s prone form. The three watched in morbid fascination as his head rolled lifelessly to one side.
“Don’t be silly, he’s already dead.” Giles stammered, rubbing his glasses furiously with a handkerchief. “I didn’t hit him hard… I…I must have just… caught him off guard.”
“I’ll say,” Xander slumped down in a nearby chair, his eyes fixed on the lifeless Spike.
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