The room smelled of cigarette smoke and peaches. Spike woke up to a gentle breeze on his face and the sound of a car incessantly honking its horn outside. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath.
Drusilla was dancing on the balcony, twirling like a gypsy, her pale hands creating patterns in the air, her ebony hair and burgundy skirt being blown in all directions by the wind. Spike got up and walked towards her, the strong muscles of his legs straining against his jeans. As he got closer, he heard the sound of loud music coming from somewhere across the street. Someone was having a party, and Guns N Roses was blasting out into the night. Spike knew Dru was dancing to the music she heard in her own mind and not Axl Rose’s passionate wailing.
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that
special place
And if I stared too long
I'd probably break down and cry
As he stepped out onto the balcony, Dru stopped dancing and looked up at the sky. “What is it, love?” he asked her.
“The moon asks ever so many questions,” she told him. “But there are never enough answers.” She turned her head to look at him as he stood there, half his face in shadow and the other bathed in moonlight, his bleached hair captured in its soft glow. “Spike, how long will you love me?”
“Forever, Dru. You know that.”
Dru touched her temple with one hand, the black lace sleeve of her blouse billowing in the wind.
Sweet child o' mine
Sweet love of mine
“Baby, come here.” She came over, and stepped into his arms, pressing herself up against his bare chest.
“My sweet girl,” he whispered, burying his face into her hair.
She's got eyes of the bluest skies
As if they thought of rain
I hate to look into those eyes
And see an ounce of pain
They stood like that for a moment, until Dru broke away from him and wandered over to the other end of the balcony. Spike followed. Drusilla’s blue eyes flashed up towards the sky, looking dark and troubled. Eyes were the windows to the soul, and even if Drusilla didn’t have one, Spike could still read her feelings through those shining midnight blue orbs. He could always tell when his black goddess was distressed. “The moon tells me nothing lasts forever,” she said in a weak, almost child-like voice. She gently placed her hands on the railing. Looking out onto the street, she whispered, “I don’t want to believe him.”
Spike pressed his body up against her from behind. Leaning on her, he almost pushed both of them over the balcony, but he caught himself and managed to steady Dru by grabbing her tiny waist with his strong hands. He brought his lips next to her ear and growled in a low whisper, “The moon’s a bloody fucking idiot.”
Dru giggled and turned to face him, still locked in his embrace. Any sign of despair had left her eyes. “I’ll tell you a secret, my William,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to touch his face, running her fingers down his sharp cheekbone, before coming to rest on his soft lips. “I believe you. My love is forever…effulgent…like the moon…”
“And who do you love, Dru?” he murmured against her fingertips, his icy blue eyes staring at her intensely.
“Silly William,” she replied. “You already know the answer.” Spike smiled.
“My Will—” Spike cut her off with a passionate kiss.
The moon was still shining, they were dangerously close to falling over the balcony again in the heat of passion, and Axl kept on singing.
Sweet child o' mine
Sweet love of mine
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