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Author's Chapter Notes:
enter sideshow Dru...
I apologise but its going to be another chapter before I am finished with this recount. I feel though that it is important to establish Spike's POV as throughout the episode until he chains Buffy up, there is really a variety of interpretations to how he is feeling. Remember: //Spike's thoughts//
//Rejected.


The word seemed to stick in my mouth like barbed wire, cutting into my tongue whenever I tried to speak. As I trailed home, far slower than I ever had with broken ribs, it twisted forcibly inside my jaw, sealing any response shut. The Slayer had finally silenced me.


I couldn’t seem to function, my shoulders slumping physically downwards as my mind remained in turmoil. How could it of gone so wrong? And perhaps more importantly, what was I to do now?


Buffy was obviously a lost cause, once more hidden beneath her mask of cheerfulness and ‘Californian girl’ façade and I didn’t know whether I had the heart to face another cold dismissal. My demon didn’t relish the notion of coming across whatever it was that had slipped to the fore for just that split second either. It had scared both of us.


My crypt, fast becoming a haven after the Scooby’s constant jibes, loomed in the cemetery. It was bathed in pale moonlight, made more opaque through human eyes. It didn’t really matter though, even when pissed beyond all belief I could still manage to stumble all the way back home, bawdy songs a normal accompaniment. This time the whole cemetery was quiet, a particularly unnatural occurrence considering the noise fledglings make when rising. Too focused on blocking everything out and the amount of booze in my fridge, I ignored it.


Just one mistake of many.


I barely slid the door open when reaching the crypt, clambering inside like a child hiding in a closet. The room was covered in odd scatterings of stone and spider webs only adding to my mood, which at this point in time was focused on getting smashed beyond reason. Maybe a hangover would have snapped me out of this poofy brooding, at least I could forget ever having confessed loving the sodding Slayer.


I dragged my feet to the fridge, one hand resting on the handle when I heard the soft sigh.


“Who’s there?” I called out gruffly. I waited for a moment, part of me expecting to see the Whelp and Red clutching a toothpick or lopsided axe if I turned around. They had never been overly brave before but I could imagine them sneaking up on a chipped vamp with barely any effort. Knowing my luck, Buffy would have run home instantly, raising the cavalry with tales of her gross encounter.


“If you’ve come here to kill me for chatting up the Slayer then you better make it quick. I haven’t got all bloody night.”


I didn’t bother to look behind me, wrenching the fridge door open and staring angrily at the beer inside. Why was it taking so long? If they wanted to stake me so bloody badly then why were they hiding in the dark? It wouldn’t even take much effort to kill me, what with the mood I was trapped in.


The sigh this time grew to a laugh and for the first time since entering the crypt I scented the air. It was heavy with the aroma of Sire.


“Dru?,” I whispered, my jaw tensing in nervousness.


Only silence answered me.


“Is it you?”


My sire took pity on me this time, a sibilant hiss falling from her mouth as she stepped out of the dark. “It is my dear boy. I’ve come to make everything right again.”


I could only stare at her.


Dru’s form appeared more skeletal than ever before, wiry arms a pale cream tinged with blue from the windows. Her eyes, haunting and large with dark mascara seemed fastened wide, unable to blink and reminding me of twin bottomless pools. Both empty except for a strange primal nature which animated her frame.


I used to stare into them for hours. Now the idea slightly repulsed me, lines from Plath’s ‘Mirror’ coming unbidden to my lips. Drusilla’s very nature was like a mirror, laced with silver and exact in showing off her Daddy’s handiwork. She couldn’t be blamed for the acts she committed after Angelus had so viciously broken her. Dru, intuitively knowing that I was thinking of poetry, waited quietly, hands clasping together. She had loved to lie in my lap as I’d quote her sonnets of Shakespeare and Byron. So long ago I can’t even remember the words. Yet a sense of nostalgia seized me and I spoke the lines with a small sense of affection, my sire continuing to stare like a child.
“I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful.
A woman bends over me,
In me she has drowned a young girl”


Dru clapped merrily when I finished. “So my bad dog still reads and sings”, she said blithely. “They haven’t completely silenced you.”


Dru began to circle me, one blood red nail gliding across my frame. “Too bad you can’t sing songs for the sunshine though Spoike. All that talent is just wasting away.” Her lips, dipped in crimson, curved upwards then, as though finding some strange sense of pleasure out of my inadequacy. It suited her considering my sire was one of Angelus’ creations. There would be something wrong with the bird if she didn’t get off on suffering.


“What is it to you?” I demanded. “You’re the one who had to go off and snog a sodding Chaos demon! If you had just kept your bloody mouth shut about the infernal sunshine we could have been happy.”


Drusilla, still circling came closer then, the choker about her neck appearing to strangle her even as words slid out. “Not then. But we can now. Come to Los Angeles with me. I’ve brought back Grandmum and Daddy will soon be his old self.”


I barely showed a reaction but internally warning bells went off. So that was why the bint was here. Couldn’t take being by her lonesome and decided to do something about it. I watched her eyes glimmer unnaturally, probably imaging the blood which would flow if her dreams came true. It surprised me that she had managed to get to Sunnyhell without mishap, but then she had never stopped being full of surprises. This though was more than I could take. Dru’s idea of resurrecting the Scourge of Europe would never work, we’ve all become far too hot headed since our earlier days. Never mind the fact that I refused to be Angelus’ bloody whipping boy again. It was hard stomaching the fact that he only lived hours away from me, the idea of the tosser sharing my home and family, would be unbearable.


My voice showed none of this however. Rather casually, I took a step back from my sire and fully looked at her, taking in the sight of burned skin. “It does sound fun pet.” I looked to the side of the wall as though bored. Maybe Dru would get the hint.


She didn’t.


Instead Dru graced me with a smile, hands ghosting over her chest in mimicry of a lover. “It t’is, like lollipops in the circus, although didn’t care for Angelus setting us on fire.” Her narrow shoulders quivered in outrage and I could see the dark edge of one burn peeking out from her hemline.


“And this has what? Got you all nostalgic now?” My tone was harsh but I couldn’t seem to care. All these women were driving me mad, constantly wanting me to dance around while they clapped changing beats. I was sick of it.


Dru did not disappoint. “I want us to be a family again William.”


I wanted to shake my head at her but couldn’t, suddenly finding my arms full of sire. Funny how they still felt empty. Her mouth was pressed against my cheek, gasping with unneeded air as she made her plea. “Please come back with me.”


“To Los Angeles? I’ve done the whole LA scene Dru, didn’t agree with me.” I shook myself free of her arms, needing some space. I could barely think when around her.


I sprawled into the same chair, which the night before I had used to fend off Harm unsuccessfully. Maybe this time it would work. I spread my legs wide, leaning back leisurely in order to maintain my air of calm. It wouldn’t have done to let her see my anxiety or shame.


“Besides, I’ve got a sweet set up here in Sunny D… decent digs not to mention all the tasty townies I can eat.”


Dru had caught on though. She bent down towards me, one lithe finger pressed against her lips as though scolding a child. “Naughty shhh. You make up stories.” Her voice was tinged with a trace of pity that made me want to scream. “I already know why you’re not coming, poor boy” she stated, making my demon shrink in embarrassment. “Tin soldiers put tiny little knick knacks in your brain.”


Her fingers before had been weaving through the air, yet she startled me when they suddenly clawed their way into her hair, mimicking my stance whenever the chip went off. Disgust tinged her voice as with each statement her head jerked to the left, fearfully lifelike. “Can’t hurt. Can’t hunt. Can’t kill. You got a chip.” She drew in close, whether to smile in wicked delight or comfort me I’ll never know. I immediately jumped out of the chair as though singed by fire, wanting to escape both her pity and my own sense of uselessness.


“So you’ve heard.” I spat. “Poor Spikes become a cautionary tale for vampires.” I began to stalk the room, slicked back hair turning to a mass of poncy curls. I had forgotten till then how inept and redundant the chip made me. I’m neither man nor monster with the bloody thing and whichever way I choose I’ll forever be met with opposition. It was just like Drusilla to remind me.


For once though, my sire comforted me, a rough pure crawling its way out of her chest as she stepped in close. Her eyes were fastened on me, the dark depths all that more intoxicating as my demon responded to hers.


“I don’t believe in science, all those bits and molecules that no one’s ever seen. I trust eyes and heart alone.” She paused, almost forcing me to draw breath as she grew ever closer. “And do you know what mine is singing out right now?” One clawed hand settled on my chest as I shook my head dumbly.


“You’re a killer. Born to slash and bash and bleed like beautiful poetry. No little tinker toy could ever stop you flowing.” Her grin of wicked glee was mesmerizing.

Unbidden the word slipped from my lips, “Yeah.”


And then I remembered why this whole conversation was pointless. As much as Drusilla is captivating she is also purely instinctual, learning to enjoy pain simply because she could not escape it. The chip and its qualities were beyond her and little Miss. Edith. “Luv you don’t understand. The pain… it’s blinding, searing.”


Much as I had expected, she tapped my head like I was a doll before tilting it downwards. “All in your head,” Dru replied. “I can see it. Little bits of plastic spider webbing out nasty blue shocks, and every one is alive.”


“But electricity lies Spike. It tells you that you’re not a bad dog but you are.” Her lips were inches from mine and I couldn’t seem to think let alone move away, every part of my demon striving to be closer to its maker.


Maybe I should thank Harmony for interrupting.


The stupid bint dressed in some infernal pink jumpsuit, had chosen just that moment to walk into the crypt. I suppose that, if remorseful I would have begged for forgiveness and kicked my sire flat out on her ass. I’m evil though. Particularly to sodding women who can’t shut up. Harmony found this out quite quickly when I dumped her, throwing a gaudy unicorn after her hasty departure.


Dru watched the entire scene with amusement. A blood red rose was clutched in her hand, the thorns causing rivulets of blood to drip down to the tip of each finger. A common image less than a decade ago, my demon reveled in appreciation. Drusilla was something we could understand. All she had ever asked was for entertainment and violence, something inherent in every psyche, whether disputed or not. The Slayer however, made everything feel twisted and out of sorts. When around her, I was constantly drowning, grasping for anything which could help me forget my emotions. Dru though never asked anything of me than just a show of brute force. I was her bad dog, her play thing, a protector. It was both appealing and degrading.


Dru opened her arms wide to me and I felt my heart snap for a moment even as the demon rushed forward. It was like embracing a corpse.


“There you are my darling deadly boy.”


My demon burst forth with possessiveness, sharpening my features into fangs and the low forehead. Dru’s lips clashed with mine and in kissing her I sealed my own fate and Buffy’s.//





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