Chapter 16 The Right Thing
Los Angeles
Spike was wearing a hole in the ground as he walked up and down the length of the hallway. He was itching for a smoke and his hands were nervously twitching as he scratched his head in frustration and nerves. Being in front of Drusilla’s doorway was one of the last places he wanted to be and he was milliseconds away from bolting.
“Real simple,” he tried convincing himself, “just go in, rip her contract up, throw her key at her, run away.”
Yeah, real simple. He gulped and positioned himself in front of the door, squeezed his eyes shut, and gave the wooden door three sharp raps.
The door immediately swung open. She had been waiting for him. Sodding fuck. Drusilla was looking up at him with a devious glint in her eyes and her hands on her hips. The moment his brain took in the sight of her, he realized why he was so hesitant to do this.
He was scared.
Big bad, rebel, hard-shelled, sneering, William the freaking Bloody was scared shitless of one dark-haired, pale-faced woman. Namely, the one standing in front of him with a knowing smile on her lips.
The problem was that he didn’t know why he was so frightened of her. He didn’t know why his blood boiled and his stomach felt like lurching every time she turned her lips up wickedly and leered at him as if she knew what was going on in his mind.
“Finally, my boy’s come back to mummy,” her smile grew wider and she clapped her hands with sickening glee.
“N-no – “
She grabbed his arms and yanked him inside.
“Now, now,” she tsked him when he tried to push her off, “we’ll have none of that! My prince has been a very naughty one, hasn’t he?”
Spike backed away from her and tripped over the armrest of the sofa, landing on the soft cushion. She followed after him slowly, lowering her head to look him over provocatively under her eyelashes.
“Drusilla, love, I didn’t come here for – “
He struggled to sit up but she pounced on him and pushed him back down onto the couch.
“Shh,” she cooed, gently placing an index finger over his lips. Then, looking deep into his eyes, she moved a little closer and pulled her index finger down until it tugged at his lower lip. Spike’s breathing grew staggered and his skin started heating up. “Let mummy take care of you. I know what you need… what you want… what you live for – “
She closed the distance between them and stuck her tongue out to lick his lower lip slowly and seductively. His head involuntarily moved forward, trying to kiss her back. Drusilla pulled back sharply and gave him a little slap, laughing when he yelped.
“Bad tosser, did mummy say you can do that??”
He shook his head vigorously and she giggled to herself.
“What do you want, my prince?”
She purred into his ear. His mind was reeling in the heated argument that was taking place in his head. A part of him that hated her shouted ‘No!’ …It told him to push her off of him as roughly as possible and run away. Run away and never come back.
Another part of him, said in a more enticing tone of voice ‘Tell her to take you to your place… the happy place. You want to be in the beautiful place where nothing can hurt you. She can take you there. Tell her to take you there. He opened his mouth to answer her when another voice invaded his head.
This voice was softer, timid, more gentle than the two overpowering ones.
‘What about me?’
The little boy trapped in his mind was on his knees, crying in an isolated little room that was locked away and hidden behind the monsters and misery of his past.
‘Help me… please?’
He closed his mouth and widened his eyes. Drusilla reached out to grab a little vial from a box lying down on the floor next to the sofa. She swayed the white powder in front of him tantalizingly. His eyes followed it to and fro, hypnotizing themselves in its appeal.
It held so many promises of a beautiful place. It told him to take it and escape to his place where he didn’t have to face the hardships of the world. He could lock out the cruelty that called itself life.
He did the only thing he could.
He nodded his head.
Drusilla’s smile widened as she handed over the little clear tube.
“That’s my good boy,” she cooed.
…………….
Five minutes later.
He couldn’t do it. It was on the table in front of him, all poured out in a neat little trail. All he had to do was bend his head down. A few month ago – hell, even a few weeks ago – he would have been in a state of euphoria already.
But he hadn’t lived through the months for nothing. Everything that Angel, Oz, and even Dr. Travers was beginning to finally sink in and he couldn’t do it.
The voices were raging in his head again and he decided to listen to the very first one. Before he could let himself think, he brought his hand down to the table and swiped at the white powder laying enticingly before him. It flew everywhere, the table, the carpet, Drusilla’s hair.
She jumped up, surprised and angry. But before she could scream, he ran from her, out the door, down the hallway, and then he was gone.
He couldn’t do it. The only thing on his mind was to find Dr. Travers. He wasn’t sure why he needed to see him, but he knew that if he didn’t, the dueling demons in his mind would go crazy and kill each other. He needed someone to talk to.
…………….
Spike didn’t even remember running through Los Angeles. All he could comprehend at the moment was that he was staring at two clear double-doors with the white words “Apartment Complex Building B” printed on them. He buzzed Dr. Traver’s room number.
After a few seconds, he tried pressing the button again. And again. And again. But there was never an answer.
He slid down to the floor and brought his knees up to his chest.
He would wait for him.
…………….
It was the same trail. It was always the same trail even though sometimes it was foggy, sometimes it was rainy, sometimes it was blizzarding, and sometimes it was even sunny. But nevertheless, the trail was the same, the same trees that towered over him and the same rocky pathway. He had grown to know it by now and was not surprised.
This time, it was at night. The sky was black and millions of stars were splattered across it, blinking and twinkling in anticipation. An owl hooted a few yards away from him and the sound of a twig snapping got his attention.
“Hello?” he asked out to the darkness. “Anybody out there?”
A draft of cool, night breeze answered him and he took a step forward, blindly.
“Any creepy crawlies? Any nasties lurking about?” he sing-songed boldly.
Again, there was nothing.
Until there was suddenly something.
Spike whirled around and jumped back in shock at the sight of a pale Drusilla standing behind him, not two yards away, hands on hips, pale skin glowing, and eyes dangerously flashing. Her hair was black in the night and flew out dangerously behind her.
“Go ‘way!” he yelled at her, backing up. “This is MY dream! And I sure as hell didn’t invite you!”
His last words were silenced by a fierce snarling. Turning around, he saw a wolf approach him slowly, stealthily. It’s yellow eyes were gleaming and its fangs were bared. As it drew closer, it dawned on Spike that it was the biggest wolf he had ever seen… it was huge… it was like a bear. A giant, oversized, SUV-sized bear.
“Good doggy,” Drusilla sang out from behind him. She tossed the wolf a human-sized bone and he caught it in his salivating mouth. She giggled and clapped her hands like a child who had received a birthday present.
The bone was gone and its eyes were fixed on Spike again.
“Uh,…” he backed away, “There’s a good fellow. You’re a very nice doggy now, aren’t you? Good right chap you are, eh? Now back away, yeah, slowly, over there…”
The wolf kept advancing. Spike looked around frantically… something… anything.
“Look! A little lamp, all nice and ripe and good for you to gobber right up!” he shouted suddenly, pointing over the wolf’s shoulder, hoping to distract it so he could run for his life.
It worked. The wolf turned around and Spike made a dash for it.
Until he heard three words coming from down the trail where he had directed the wolf to.
“Help me… please!”
He stopped dead and turned around, slowly. There was a little boy huddled in the middle of the trail and the wolf was licking his chops, hungrily…
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Author's Chapter Notes:
(I POSTED TWO CHAPTERS UP - for those of you who automatically click on the last chapter. I posted the chapter before this one up at the same time) The dreams are all very symbolic... and they WILL be unravelled. Spike has a past... something secret that will be revealed in the next few chapters. I'm not letting him off easily by throwing in a couple of pity lines... i'm just trying to explain some psychological, historical background that lead his very bad decision-making skills. We'lll catch up with Buffy next chapter. A bit more light and happy.