Summary: Spikes' pov after he gets Dru back.
Spoilers: Lover's Walk
Disclaimer: These characters are MINE! MINE MINE ALL MINE! HAHAHA!! Well,
okay, they're not, but I like to pretend sometimes.
Rating: PG10, It's a little bit gruesome.
This is for Karen and Laure, who are my inspirations for this kind of fic.
Really, (crazed look) don't be afraid that I want to be you guys....
Thanks to my wonderful beta reader Tracy, who is a goddess. :)
by: Amy
Eternity. I've found that sometimes, eternity is too long. Demons aren't supposed to be introspective, though. I hate myself when I'm like this.
Dru took me back. I knew she would. Once things snapped into focus and I realized what a pathetic, sniveling *Angel* I had become, I knew that she would take me back. Oh, she's always loved Angelus, the bastard. But likewise, she hates his soully disgusting counterpart, Angel. And that's who I had become. Makes me want to vomit.
So I did what I said. I went to her, and found her, and made her love me again. I could tell that as soon as she looked up from her dinner, an annoyingly squirmy girl, she recognized me for what I finally was again. But even though she knew, I did what I set out to-- punished her harshly and made her regret ever leaving me. I whipped her until her back was raw and bleeding, until I could see the muscles under the broken skin, I beat her until her face was barely recognizable, and then I made love to her until she sobbed with relief in my arms. She knew I was back. She would never make the mistake again. Neither would I. Progressive relationships.
She's angry with me again. Which, under normal circumstances, would be a great lead into the bedroom, but she won't touch me until I get someone else washed from my mind. She says it sickens her.
It sickens me as well.
But I still think about her. The fiery haired witch who was willing to help me when I needed it. Well, maybe 'willing' isn't the right word, but she would have helped in the end. Her glassy green eyes shimmering with tears of terror follow me, haunting me. I hate that I think about her so much; Hate that she's become such a big part in my thoughts.
Her smell is sometimes all I can think about. That scent coming off of her creamy neck in waves, peaches and strawberries. I've always had a thing for fruit. Dru, my dear, deadly Drusilla is a plum or a pomegranate, wickedly bitter and moist and somehow ageless. The witch is a peach, warmed by the sun, sweet and juicy. I don't have to wonder what her blood would taste like, I know. It would be hot and innocent and rich with life. Virgins are often like that, but she has the added temptation of being full of magic and strength and a dangerous mixture of dark and light. I can't deny I want her.
Believe me, I've tried.
When I smelled her neck, when I confessed that I wanted her, I saw something that she was denying even to herself. She wanted me too. At least, she wondered what I would be like, wondered at the vampire sitting next to her, wondered if his lips would taste like blood and how cold his hands were, if they would heat up on her skin. She's obviously never been taken and ravished-- She obviously wants to be. She knew, without knowing how she knew or even that she did, that I could be wonderful to her, everything she ever fantasized about as she lay in bed at night. She would make an extraordinary vampire.
I think of the feel of her hair in my hands as I threatened to mar her pretty face, as the tears streamed in tortured silence down her cheeks. So soft, pretty, as though conditioned by drops of pure sunlight. Dru is the same, and completely different, her raven hair is silky by touch of the moon only.
I know she is my greatest partner, my strongest alliance. My deepest love. And yet, I can't help letting my mind wander to the mouth of the witch... who, though I hate saying it, it nothing but a *mortal*. I used to wonder how Angelus could be so bloody obsessed by a human, though he certainly picked an extraordinary one. Now I know. But I still don't sympathize, we're both idiots.
I phoned her. Months of not hearing her voice finally drove me to the edge of insanity, and though I would probably see Drusilla there, it still wasn't something I fancied, so I dialed the numbers and called her. That's how I'm in such a mess.
Willow had dropped the phone. Bloody adorable. When she picked it back up, her voice was uncertain and I had the oddest feeling of being watched by her. "Sp-Spike?"
"Yeah, love, it's me," I growled, annoyed with myself for even giving into the temptation of calling her. I heard her suck in her breath and breathe out, long and slow, whistling.
"Is... Is there something you want me to *do* for you?" Perfectly polite, with the undertone of fear. Her fear is like an elixir.
"No," I muttered, a bit *too* nonchalantly. "I'm simply checking up on things, making sure you got out of the factory instead of being left there by the idiot who calls herself the Slayer. How long did it take for her to come in and save the day?"
She laughed, a quick, harsh sound. "She wasn't the one who found us. Some friends of ours came to the rescue. My boyfriend-- He's a werewolf. He followed the scent." I chuckled at the revelation.
"So you're fine?" Why did I care? Yet still I waited and gripped the receiver tighter.
"Yes... What's going on? Are you going to come back and try to kill us again?" she asked nervously.
"Not right now, maybe later," I laughed. "Thanks for asking." I could hear the tension flow out of her voice, she became almost relaxed talking to me over a distance.
I spoke to her for quite a while, listening about how she started in with magic, telling her about how I fell in love with Dru, laughing with her over some of the escapades the "Slayerettes" had been involved in. Was I crazy? Maybe, I decided. But I was past caring. I wanted her. I envisioned her body slowly blooming under my touch as her voice was, the simple caress of my voice calming her.
Over an hour after we had started the conversation, she broke off a laugh to ask me a question. "Spike, do you have a soul again somehow?"
I froze.
She sensed my tension and spoke in a softer tone. "I just meant... You're so funny and-- and nice, and I didn't know that you were, and a lot like... a lot like," she faltered.
"A lot like Angel?" I snarled.
"Well..." The fear was back in her voice, and though I loathed myself, I had loved the compliments she had given without thinking. I took the edge off my words, and regained my control.
"No, I don't. I'm a demon, Willow. Accept it. You've been talking to a demon. You've been having a good time with a demon." She sucked in her breath again, a sound I thought absently that I could get used to.
And then I turned.
Drusilla was standing there. I didn't know how long she had been listening, or how much she had heard, or what she could see in my eyes. She growled, low in her throat and headed for me, her hands twisted into claws.
I slammed the phone down into the cradle and caught her arms in the air. She hissed at me like a cat, like a damn cat who is fighting with a dog. I pulled her close to me and she stopped struggling. When she spoke, her voice was little and angry, and strangely sad.
"You're heart is hers. You think of nothing but fire and innocence. Spike? Why do you love innocence so? Am I not your princess?" She looked up at me with-- damn, I must be imagining things-- tears in her large blue eyes. I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat.
"Always, Princess," I swore. "Dru, I was just checking up on things in Sunnyhell. I wanted to see what was happening with the Slayer, and how better to do that than to get close to her friends?" It was a lie, a good lie, but a lie nonetheless and she saw right through it, yanking herself from my arms.
"Spike doesn't get to touch me until he washes her free of himself," she spat. "He's been naughty, unacceptable, and will be punished." She turned towards the door and, almost there, spoke, her back still facing me.
"Make up your mind, Spike." She exited, leaving me speechless. As much as I loved those moments when her sanity surfaced, I hated them too. They only came about when she was angry with me.
So now I lay in bed and wish for something I can't have, and wish for something I *already* have, but won't be given to me. Willow, the little witch so wise and innocent at the same time. I have to say, I loved talking with someone who was all there, someone who knew when to laugh and talk quietly and someone I had never seen dance naked with her dolls. And Dru, her infernal insanity that prevented us from having a meaningful conversation and was likewise what made me fall for her, that wanting to protect her. I hate it when I'm introspective.
Drusilla would be alive forever, unless I killed her.
Willow would die, unless I made her a vampire.
Decisions about eternity. They're quite the bitch.
Go on to the next part...Strange Ailments