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Author's Chapter Notes:
Just as a head's up, this chapter features some Spike/other references and interactions. It also features Spike's trigger from the Season 7 episode 'Lies my Parent's Told Me'. So, consider yourself warned.
“You're such an inspiration for the ways that I will never ever choose to be.
Oh, so many ways for me to show you how your savior has abandoned you.
Fuck your god, your lord, your christ, he did this, took all you had and left you this way.
Still you pray, never stray, never taste of the fruit, never though to question why …
Oh so many ways for me to show you how your dogma has abandoned you.
Christ, dear christ, dear god, never taste of the fruit, never stray, never break, never choke on the lie.
Even though he's the one that did this to you, never thought to question why.
It's not like you killed someone, it's not like you drove a spiteful spear into his side.
Talk to Jesus Christ as if he knows the reasons why, he did it all for you.”
- A Perfect Circle, “Judith”

* * *

It was the sound of a light rain beating against the windows that jolted Spike awake. For a long moment he couldn't remember where he was but, slowly, memory returned and he found himself examining his surroundings eagerly in the pale evening light. The dimness of his original memories left Spike feeling empty and dismayed. He had the distinct impression that the young man who had lived her had known a life suffused with comfort and security, blissfully unaware that the bogies under the bed were real until the swallowed him and all he'd loved. The most bitter irony was that in his desperate wish to cling to that old life he had cut the final thread and sealed the fate of his family and himself forever.

Pushing away memories he'd rather not explore, Spike stood and forced his mind to return to the present. Every visible inch of the small parlor was covered in a thick layer of dust and he had a sneaking suspicion that if he lifted the dust cloths the furniture beneath would bear little resemblance to actual sofas and chairs. If asked he wouldn't have been able to explain to anyone why he still kept the place and he was sure that in doing so he was condemning this house that had known such life and love to an eternity of emptiness and silence. Ashamed as he might be to admit it, part of him still remembered the silly, romantic dreams of William; fantasies of one day carrying a blushing bride over the threshold and populating the halls and rooms with children. For a brief moment he imagined telling Buffy about the place, perhaps even taking her and the Bit to come see it for themselves, but the idea crumpled against the weight of reality. She would never come here, would never want to, and if she did she wouldn't see the beauty that was once here, only the glorified tomb that it had become. Even now he could see the clear hazel eyes he loved so much leveling him with a look of condemnation and pity. No, he would never show Buffy where he came from.

Dru had never wanted to spend any time here either. She had been uninterested in watch him “play with broken toys”. She had understood the matter better than him and had not appreciated his sentimentality. Life with her had always been about the simple and the immediate. He had chased after what had fascinated her for a second, his inner compass constantly turning to follow her whims like the wind. It had been romantic and adventurous and had led to nothing but Brazil. He would be a fool to believe that it had ever led anywhere else.

Buffy was another matter entirely, steady, grounded, too damn serious for her own good, and very much in trouble. After the incident last night, he was more than a little suspicious of the errand he was running. Rupert, has seemed to leave out more than a few pertinent facts and Spike found himself wondering exactly what the Watcher's motives had been. He was committed though now, come hell or high water, and he would not return to the Slayer empty handed. It was then that he caught the first tell tale whiffs of Jasmine and wood smoke. For a moment he dismissed it as the product of his reverie but the smell persisted, grew stronger, and was alarmingly accompanied by the crackling of a fire. Quietly, he crept into the hallway, his had hovering over the knob of the half opened library door before he pushed it open all the way and beheld her standing stark naked before the bay windows.

It was not something he would've anticipated in even the most far-fetched attempts to plan ahead. But there she was, an undeniable alabaster column, a stretch of long legs and long black hair and long fingers counting the rain drops that tapped against the glass in an increasing frenzy. If she noticed him she gave no sign, but he did not doubt that she was aware of him. He seeming indifference was not due to inattention but simply to the fact that his arrival, though anticipated and sought after, was devastatingly mundane when compared to the maddeningly colorful vistas that currently absorbed her. What was the arrival of an old flame when compared to the fleeting beauty of the storm? It would be useless to try and get her attention now until she was good and ready to give it.

In it's own way it was strangely comforting to know that even as his world tilted on it's axis, Dru would always remain the same: untouched by either time or sanity. She was so predictable for him in her unpredictability and he felt a rush of tenderness for the creature who had created him so long ago. She turned to face him then, her brown eyes sad behind all the madness that glittered there, “My dress was wet.”

“Of course.”

She smiled at him, before executing a sloppy twirl into his arms, “My Spike.” The smell of jasmine in a cloud about her ad her skin, cold and hard beneath his hands unsettled him. Before he could question her though she leaned forward and, with the ease of long practice, sunk her teeth into the sensitive apex of his neck. His groan was impossible to help, as was the involuntary shudder of his hands against her flesh as she fed carefully. Just as quickly as she had initiated it it was over and she stood before him, licking her lips in a delighted feline manner.

“Why are you here, Dru?”

She pouted and made a sound of her displeasure, turning back to the window as if to ignore him, “I've come to say good-bye of course. The stars have told me you're going on a long journey and you won't come back.”

Well then. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand before he could ask her what she meant. Desperate, he reached out and grabbed her only to receive a smack across his face that drew blood, “Naughty boy! Thinking to pull a thread from the tapestry and remake it your own way. Atropos always has the final word.” She wilted instantly, her head turning upwards as her body bowed to the transmissions she was receiving. Her eyes fluttered closed as a low laugh burst forth from her mouth and sent her into a slow dance. Her laughter died away easily into a low hum and she began to sing a tune that turned Spike's blood to ice, “Early one morning, just as the sun was rising I heard a maid sing in the valley below / "Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me, How could you use, a poor maiden so?" / Remember the vows that you made to me truly / Remember how tenderly you nestled close to me / Gay is the garland, fresh are the roses / I've culled from the garden to bind over thee."

It had been a favorite song of his mother, one she would hum or sing absently throughout the day and the night. His hands trembled as the memory of her hit him like a ton of bricks and the pain of losing her washed over him again as if new. Before him, Drusilla continued to sing, “Here I now wander alone as I wonder / Why did you leave me to sigh and complain / I ask of the roses, why should I be forsaken, / Why must I here in sorrow remain?”

“Ghosts,” she muttered wearily as she sank onto the carpet, her hands twining through her hair as she moaned, “Why am I always surrounded by the dead?”

There was no answer left for her but the silence.


Chapter End Notes:
For those who don't know: the song Drusilla is singing is Spike's trigger from season 7. The song is called Early One Morning.

I just wanted to say thanks again for the reviews I received on the last chapter. Hopefully I haven't chased away any of the people who loved the story with this chapter. If so, it may comfort you to know that this is the last of Drusilla and of Spike/Other. Unlike Odysseus, Spike won't be sleeping with every single woman he meets on the way back to his Penelope. I hope that even if you didn't like this chapter those of you who've enjoyed the story so far will keep reading and reviewing.



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