AUTHOR: Goddess Isa
EMAIL: goddessisa@aol.com
SUMMARY: Max takes a much-needed trip to Spikeland
SPOILER: Slight for the first season of Roswell. SLIGHT.
DISTRIBUTION: Sure, just email me & lmk where it's going - I like seeing my name in print =)
FEEDBACK: Please, I'd hate to have to Slay for it. =P
RATING: TV-PG
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon owns Spike. Jason Katims owns Max. That's all. I think.
5/17/00
Billy Idol CDs were everywhere.
Max Evans looked around and saw leather jackets sailing through the air. Guitars, smokes and trashy novels also filled the cloudy space. Max looked around and tried to figure out where the Hell he was and how the Hell he got there.
"You're in Spikeland," a British voice said from above him.
"Huh?" Max looked all around but saw no one.
Suddenly, a leather-clad blonde guy appeared before Max's eyes out of nowhere.
"Who are you?" Max asked.
"Duh mate. I'm Spike! Can't you bloody use the brain God gave you?"
Max was speechless. "I--"
"Lemme clue you in on why you're here."
Max just stared at him. His head was starting to pound and he was very confused. Did I have anything to drink last night? he asked himself.
"This is a favor I'm doing your sister Isabel," Spike explained. "Well, sort of. It's a favor I'm doing for Red and it's Red's favor to Isabel."
"How do you know Isabel?" Max demanded. "Where is she? Is she all right? And who's Red?"
"Red is my little Witch, and your sister is bloody fine. Prolly out with that stupid mortal bloke Alec."
"Alex," Max corrected. "And he's not stupid."
"Whatever," Spike shrugged. "Look, you've got things all wrong. We gotta right 'em before it's too late."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your destiny," Spike grabbed a cigarette as it sailed by. "Don't mind if I smoke, do you?"
Max shook his head wordlessly as Spike touched the tip of the cancer stick to light it. After taking a few puffs, he started talking about.
"Now, about this bloody destiny of yours--"
"I don't believe in destiny," Max interrupted.
"Who the fuck does?" Spike demanded. "Bottom line is this; that girl of yours is hurting."
"Tess?" Max guessed.
"No, not Tess! What kind of a bloody name is Tess?"
"It's--"
"Oh forget." Spike threw his cigarette into a cloud and rolled his eyes. "Red is gonna owe me big for this one," he muttered. "Look. Either you smarten up, find Liz, claim her as your own and live happily ever after, or your sister's gonna kick your lazy ass. And if that happens, then Red'll kick my ass and I'm really not in the mood to get whipped because you're too lazy to get your act together."
Max could only stare at him. The guy was crazy. "I don't understand," Max finally said. "Am I asleep?"
"Are you gonna do as I said?" Spike asked.
"I--"
"If you don't, I'll make bloody sure all you hear in your head is Billy Idol music for the rest of your bloody life," Spike threatened.
"I'll do it," Max muttered.
Spike handed Max a pair of leather pants and snapped his fingers.
*****
When Max woke up, he was lying on his bed, the leather pants still in his hands.
The first thing he saw when he sat up was a picture of Liz, and he knew then that he had to go find her.
Now.
In the pants.
And after successfully reclaiming Liz, he'd have to kick Isabel's butt for sending Spike to torture him.