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.

Six:


A thin beam of sunlight cut across the room, highlighting dust particles floating in the musty room, coming to rest on Giles’ stooped back. The watcher had fallen asleep reading, his glasses precariously balanced on the tip of this nose.

There was a knock - a heavy handed thump which startled Giles into consciousness. In his groggy state, the glasses fell from his face onto the desktop then bounced once on the floor, losing one of the lenses. He cursed under his breath, feeling around his feet with one hand.

“Who is it?” he shouted, locating the metal frames and the missing lens.

“’S me,” came the muffled reply.

For once in his life, he was early. He felt proud of the fact, so proud that he felt it should be remarked upon but here was Giles, sitting in front of Xander, plainly ignoring him. He’d never seen Giles so distracted before - and this was a guy that hardly batted an eyelid over an apocalypse.

Giles swept the remnants of Xander’s candy bar from his morning paper. “I’m worried about Willow,” he said, as if reading Xander’s thoughts, “being inside such a creature’s head must be traumatic to say the least.”

Something whirred and clicked in Xander’s mind. “I thought you couldn’t read vampire’s thoughts.”

“That’s right, you can’t,” Giles said, without looking up from the Sunnydale Guardian.

There was a moment where Xander backtracked, going over the last few moments carefully. “But I thought you said Willow was reading Spike’s mind.”

“Well, I was simplifying the issue slightly. The spell opens a gateway, an empathy if you will, which allows Willow to share Spike’s experiences and, ultimately, interpret his thoughts during those experiences through a deep mental connection. It’s very complex and hard to explain.” Giles picked a volume from his bookcase, seemingly at random, and flicked to a page. “The problem with this spell is that the more you understand someone, the more power you have over them… and I don’t want to think what Spike would do when he finds out that an eighteen year old girl knows his innermost secrets and, dare I say it, desires.”

“But that’s not what’s worrying you?” Xander said, reaching out for the book in Giles’ hands. It was passed over reluctantly and he looked down at the pages. The impregnable Latin text was accompanied by a faint, line-drawing of the same man, over and over again, except, when Xander looked closer, he saw a slight change in each of the pictures. In fact, in front of him was a monk’s meticulous impression of the gradual change between human and demon. “And what has this got to do with Willow?” he asked, half-knowing the answer.

Giles rubbed at his forehead. “As Willow’s mind becomes open to the evils that Spike has inflicted, as she gains insight into his cold mind, she’ll become desensitised to… to everything.”

“Like violence on TV.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Giles removed the book from Xander’s right hand and replaced it on the shelf. “Every day she spends in his head, she becomes more like him. Whoever wrote the book she used for the ritual was very vague on the consequences of complete empathy.”

“So, we dust Spike and she’ll be fine,” Xander reasoned.

“I don’t know what effect a complete severance from him would have on her. It could be something simple like a light headache but, then again… I don’t think we should take the chance.”

Willow awoke with a start, roused from a strange dream - except, on opening her eyes, the dreamscape remained. She sighed as realisation ploughed through her mind, hitting a few stones along the way.

She could see the ceiling of Spike’s crypt and feel the cold sheets beneath his body. As he turned over, sensing her presence in his mind, she could hear Harmony’s voice nearby.

“Come on, Spike, I’ve never seen you like this before,” she touched his hair but he swept her hand away.

“Go away.”

“Is it Dru? It is isn’t it?” Harmony said, unthinkingly.

Before she finished the sentence, he had pinned her against the headboard. “You know how I feel about you mentioning that name.”

Willow’s revulsion at the scene was felt by Spike. He let Harmony slip from his grasp.

“I’m leaving,” she shouted, ignoring the fact that he was only a couple of feet away, grabbed her jacket and, holding it over her head, slipped out of the crypt.

Spike fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “How long will you be in here, Red?”

She shrugged, trying to concentrate on the wall in front of her to stop her crying.

“It’s no use pretending to hold it together, love,” Spike whispered. “When you feel like crying, I want to sob my bleedin’ heart out.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered back.




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