Author: Bitch Willow
Email Address: bitch_willow@willowymail.zzn.com
Rating: PG-13 maybe, for disturbing stuff.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss and Co., none of whom are me. Various lines are from the episode ‘The Initiative’ written someone else who is not me. The title is from Monty Python.
Summary: Spike loses his bite. (Or, ‘The Initiative’ in the Paradise Universe.)
Spike walked casually up the campus of Sunnydale University, hands in the front pockets of his tight jeans. Willow had finally convinced to him to give up his signature black for some occasional color, although she still couldn’t break him of his jeans-and-a-t-shirt habit.
The thought of the sweet redhead brought a smile to his face, heartfelt and bittersweet. Since the wolf had left, Willow had been spending more time with him, although not in a romantic context. They mostly watched movies, joked about Buffy, who had been a steady friend to both Spike and Willow lately, and steadfastly ignored their feelings for each other. Spike, king of bad breakups and stupid solutions to them, knew that taking advantage of Willow now, or even professing interest, could destroy their friendship. So he had tried his best to avoid even thinking of her in anything but a friendly manner.
As a result, they had been spending less and less time together, Spike retreating into his small apartment to mope and watch bad movies, and Willow retreating to the dorm room she shared with Buffy to listen to sad music and cry her eyes out. According to Buffy at least, who had been stopping by with Spike’s daily blood supply.
Not much had been happening lately. Thanksgiving came and went, with a protesting Willow celebrating it at a dinner cooked by none other than the friendly little Slayer. Spike had been invited, but the thought of watching Willow eat an entire meal had given him chills. He had given her a carton of ice cream last time she’d visited him, and he’d barely gotten her out of the room before he rushed into a cold shower. Damn voyeurism. Besides, the only thing he had to be thankful for…was Willow.
He scowled a little. Now if she could only get over damned Wolfboy. < And come running into my arms, > he thought wistfully. Then he rolled his eyes. < Not bloody likely, chap, > he thought. But maybe…just maybe…
All of a sudden, he felt a blinding pain hit him, running through his sluggish blood and causing his eyes to roll back in his head. He fell over onto his back, panting at the pain. His boots were smoking, the laces singed.
Two men in commando gear stood over him, holding some sort of…well, they looked like ray guns. One of them turned to the other. "He’s not out yet."
The other one shrugged. "Shoot him again." Their voices were muffled by the ski masks they wore.
Spike felt another wave of pain roll agonizingly through him as lines of blue electricity snaked over his body. The last thing he saw before blackness hit him was Willow’s face, on the inside of his eyelids.
* * *
When Spike awoke, he was disturbed by the pure, clean whiteness of everything surrounding him. He felt as if he were inside of a toilet. "Oh, there’s an appealing image," he muttered to himself. He felt vaguely nauseous, and hungrier than he could ever remember being. His head hurt.
All of a sudden, a tile in the ceiling opened, and a bag of blood dropped onto the floor. Before Spike could even contemplate escape, the hole closed. He sighed and picked up the plastic bag, preparing to bite into it.
"Don’t!" A voice cut into his hunger, prompting him to pause. "It’s been drugged."
Spike cocked his head, trying to figure out where the weak voice had come from. Apparently, the walls weren’t that thick, or had holes, or something. He sniffed the blood, instantly smelling the knockout drugs he’d missed earlier in his mindless hunger. Enraged, he threw the packet to the ground, then spit through his teeth, "Uh-huh. And who are you, mate?"
The hesitant voice came fast this time. "I’m a rat. I’m a lab rat, just like the others. They’re gonna kill us, you know." The (Spike was assuming) other vampire’s voice rose in hysteria, causing a shiver to run down his spine.
He shrugged, he hoped nonchalantly, in case those army guys had secret cameras or whatever. "And how are they gonna do that?"
"They starve you. When you’re ready to bite your own arm, they shoot out one of those packets. You drink, and the next thing, you’re gone. And that’s when they do the experiments."
Once again, Spike felt a trill of icy fear shoot down his already cold body. < Experiments? Where the bloody hell am I? >
"And, uh, they are? The government? Nazis? A major cosmetics company?" He smirked. < Well, at least I can keep my sense of humor in times like these… >
The other vampire was beyond humor, even beyond reason. "Who cares? All I know is, one minute I’m running from the Slayer, And the next thing, I’m here."
< Wha… > Spike’s head shot up. "You think the Slayer’s behind all this?" He nodded to the walls of the military/hospital-looking place he was apparently a prisoner of.
"Yeah, she took apart my crew, and led me straight to these guys. She’s gotta be—"
"Doesn’t add up," Spike found himself saying immediately. < Oh, hell. Now the Slayer’s got me trusting her. > "I mean, this ain’t Slayer digs. She just kills ‘em. Wouldn’t worry about her experimenting. I’ve had a few run-ins, and she’s all stick, no think. This," he said, looking at the pure white surroundings, "is something completely different."
The other vampire gulped. Something else…could be worse.
* * *
Willow walked up to Giles’ apartment, knocking worriedly on the door. < I’m sure it’s nothing, > she said to herself. < I’m sure he hasn’t opened his door or even called me in two days because…um…> Another part of her brain immediately jumped in. < Because he’s a pile of dust? >
Before she could let that thought worry her too much, Giles opened the door, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Ah, Willow. What can I help you with?"
He seemed nervous, but Willow barged on in anyway, pushing past him and talking all the while. "Spike’s gone! I mean, way gone. I checked at his apartment last night and then this morning. He wasn’t there. and I’ve been calling him…" She turned to face Giles. "But I couldn’t find Buffy, so I figured maybe she was—"
"Rupert?" A pretty black woman, clothed only in one of Giles’ shirts, wandered out. Seeing Willow, she stopped short. "Oh…uh, hello."
"Hi," Willow managed to squeak.
"I think I’ll just…goodbye." The Englishwoman wandered back into the back part of the house.
Willow and Giles, generally the two shyest Scoobies, stared at each other uncomfortably. Then Willow blushed, heading for the door. "Okay, you’re obviously busy. So I will just. Go away now. Bye."
Before she could make it out the door, Giles seized her by the arm. "That’s quite all right. She’s a friend from England, and I’m quite sure she’ll understand—"
"Why college girls keep popping up in your house?" Willow asked slyly, amused at Giles’ blush. "That is Olivia, right?"
Giles nodded, face red. But he sat Willow down on the couch, sitting across from her in a soft chair. "Now what is this about Spike having gone missing?"
Willow immediately went back to business. "Spike. Gone. Missing. That’s pretty much all I know." Her worried eyes told him a lot more than that, but with his usual tact he decided not to enquire further.
"Of course. I’ll call Buffy immediately and have her bring everyone around." He headed for the phone, but was stopped by Willow’s gentle hand on his arm. "Yes?"
She pointed to his robe. "Shouldn’t you….maybe…get dressed?"
He looked down at himself, blushing. "Oh, yes. Quite right."
* * *
Spike lay on the floor of the lab, totally devoid of movement. Next to him lay the packet of blood, now empty, only a smattering of blood left to tint the plastic red.
Suddenly, a door at the end of the wide room opened, and a gurney was wheeled up to Spike’s cage. Two men in doctor’s coats followed a man in military garb, carrying another taser.
When the army guy opened the large glass door with his I.D. card, the two doctors carried Spike out of the room by his armpits, lying him on the gurney.
As the first doctor began to strap him down, Spike’s eyes opened. He grabbed the man by the wrist, throwing him back against the military garb. He felt his face come out, and he hissed at the second doctor, who was recoiling in terror.
A part of him was disturbed at how easily he fell back into the habit of violence; the part that loved Willow. The demon inside of him, however, was growling and exalting at the crack of flesh against glass. The military guy had bumped into the glass of his former containment cell, and he was currently passed out.
One of the doctors jumped at him with a dripping needle, and he redirected the man’s hand to the other doctor’s chest, where the needle went in, right at heart level. The man grimaced in swift and shocking pain, then quickly slumped to the floor
Spike could smell the fast and erratic beating of the hearts around him. He could tell when the second doctor’s heart began to slow, and finally stop. With a grin, he smashed the glass wall and watched in fall on the body of the fallen soldier, slicing his flesh and making blood well up quickly from the gaping wounds.
Spike laughed, his voice contorted by the fangs. The doctor with the needle looked at his colleague with horrified eyes, then simply ran.
Spike took off next, in the opposite direction. His blood was pumping through his veins, and all he felt was the pleasure of the kill.
THE END
Ha ha! Weren’t expecting that, were you? Sorry for the delay, much writer’s block.
‘Hostile and Hungry’ (Part 19) should be finished soon.
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