He looked back, met her gaze, and felt a rush of shame.
For a moment, her eyes looked hazy, her mind seemingly somewhere else, before she saw what he was doing and frowned. “Are we leaving already?”
“Yeah,” Spike replied, looking away from her. He shoved a dirty shirt into his bag, then pulled the drawstring closed.
Drusilla sat up, the blanket falling from her body and leaving her gloriously nude. She pouted. “But I like it here. And it’s Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t we spend Christmas with Daddy?”
“No. Coming here was a mistake, Dru. Let’s just go now. I’ll take you someplace nice—we can spend the next couple days in a posh hotel. Get dressed.”
Drusilla crossed her arms over her bare chest, her dark hair falling forward. “I don’t want to go to a hotel, William. I like it here.”
“Don’t pout, Dru. I’m fucking hung over and not in the bloody mood.”
She whimpered in response, ducking her head down, and Spike immediately felt bad for snapping at her. He knew he had no right to be angry with Drusilla. After all, he had been the one to cheat. But he was frustrated, furious with himself, and no one else was there to bear the brunt of it.
He needed to get away from this place, needed to go back to the life he’d made outside of his father’s shadow. And Buffy… She’d never bring him a damn thing but trouble—the further away from her he was, the better.
Spike knelt in front of the bed and reached up to cup Dru’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you want to stay, but I can’t, all right? I’ve told you how things are between me an’ Liam. And I thought…I thought I could be here, show him I’m not a boy to push around anymore, but I can’t.” He dropped his hands. “So let’s just go, yeah? I’ll buy you a pretty new dress. Would that make you happy, pet?”
“Can it be satin?”
The corner of Spike’s lips twitched up. He was relieved he seemed to have placated Drusilla, at least for the time being. Sometimes when she got into one of her petulant moods, nothing would goad her out of demanding her way.
“I want a necklace to wear with it, too,” Drusilla added. “And something pretty for my hair.”
“Of course, dove.”
Drusilla’s smile was slow. “I’ll go.”
Spike jumped to his feet. “Up with you, then. Put your clothes on and get your things together, and we’ll head out.”
Immediately, her pout was back. “Right now?” Drusilla asked.
“No point in wasting time,” Spike replied. Granted, he probably wasn’t in the best condition to drive at the moment, but he wanted out of there as quickly as possible.
Drusilla thrust her breasts forward, shimmying against the sheets. “But you never gave me a proper good morning.”
Spike swallowed, finding the idea of sex surprisingly unappealing at the moment. “I’ll make it up to you as soon as we find a new place to crash, all right? Shag you for hours. But right now, I just want to go. I’d like to get out of here before Liam wakes up.”
Drusilla didn’t stop pouting, but, much to Spike’s relief, she did get to her feet. “You’re lucky I’m not more cross with you, my William,” she said as she retrieved her clothes and started to dress.
Spike turned from her, hiding the shame in his eyes. She had no idea how true that statement was…
He had no real response for her, so all he said was, “Let’s just get out of here.”
They’d made their way out of the mansion without incident. The house was still quiet in the early morning hours, and Drusilla had found “sneaking out” to be a fun game, which inspired her to stay quiet—something for which Spike was grateful.
However, his luck apparently only ran as far as the garage. Before he even managed to get to his car, he heard her—calling his name.
He stopped, his entire body tensing as his jaw clinched. How could he turn around and look her in the eye after what he’d done?
And then she was there, so close he could feel her even with the air between them. “Will?” she said, panting, clearly out of breath from running after him.
He turned, slowly, saw her wrapped in a robe, her legs bare despite the fact it was December, her hair tousled from the bed, and for a moment, he forgot Drusilla was standing beside him.
She’d run outside to catch him, clearly hadn’t given a thought to how she looked or what she was doing. Bloody hell…
Buffy tucked a strand of blonde hair nervously behind her ear, her eyes darting to the woman standing at Spike’s side. She knew she shouldn’t be here, that she should have been grateful he was leaving, but when she’d caught a glimpse of him out the window, heading towards the garage with bags in hand, she hadn’t been able to stop her feet from taking her to him.
“You’re leaving?” Buffy asked, hating how small her voice sounded. “I thought you were staying for Christmas.”
She sounded like she wanted him to stay, which Spike couldn’t even begin to understand. He would’ve thought if she’d come running after him like this, it would’ve been to make sure he knew never to come back…
“I think I should.”
Buffy knew he was right. He should leave—no two ways about it. But something about that terrified her. Last night had been the first time she’d felt anything since he’d left before, and wrong as it was, she wanted him there. Just for a few days, just long enough to maybe mend things between them.
It had to end, but she didn’t want it to end like this.
“I know…” Buffy ducked her head. She knew she was being needy, and probably more than a little pathetic, but… “It’s Christmas, and I don’t…” She didn’t want to spend it alone. “It would be nice, you know, if the family was together.” She winced. How wrong did that sound?
Spike grimaced a little as well, though he certainly wasn’t going to start discussing anything pertaining to the truth of their relationship, not in front of Drusilla. He’d caught a glimpse of his girlfriend out of the corner of his eye and already knew she was reading more into this exchange than he was comfortable with.
Which was why he was going to tell Buffy no. He didn’t need to be there. What he’d done to her the night before had more than proven that. He still didn’t understand why she wasn’t throwing him out instead of asking him to stay, but that didn’t really matter at the moment. What did matter was that he needed to leave before things got any worse.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll stay.”
Drusilla gasped. Buffy beamed. Spike knew he was in all kinds of trouble.
“Great,” Buffy said. “So, Christmas, family—all of the good.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah. Good.”
Buffy took several steps backwards. “So I’ll just be…going back in now. I’ll see you inside?”
“Yeah.”
Confident she’d stopped him even as she lamented her own weakness, Buffy walked back towards the house, leaving Spike alone with Drusilla.
As soon as Buffy was gone, Drusilla turned towards Spike, shrieking as she pummeled him with closed fists. Spike threw his hands up defensively, trying to protect himself as she rained blows down on him.
“How could you?!” Drusilla yelled, hitting him harder. “You bastard!”
“What did I do?” Spike asked, not willing to admit to anything unless she accused him of it in no uncertain terms.
“Fucked pretty little step-mummy!” Drusilla snarled. “That’s where you were last night. When you left and I waited. I waited for you all night, Spike, and you were fucking her!”
“No! Dru, I didn’t. I promise you I didn’t have sex with her last night,” Spike replied, covering his head as her fists moved up. After all, it was technically the truth…
“Liar!”
One of her blows landed especially hard, and Spike moved quickly, grabbing her wrists and stilling her. Drusilla struggled, her hands flexing maniacally as she still tried to reach for him. She screamed and her feet shuffled. Spike held her as so she couldn’t manage to kick him without falling over.
“Drusilla, stop it. I’m not lying.”
“I hate you!” Drusilla yelled.
It wasn’t the first time she’d told him that in a fight, and yet, it never stopped cutting. “Dru, please… Don’t say that. Come on, baby.”
“Let go of me!”
With a sigh, Spike did. Immediately, Drusilla was attacking him again, this time with renewed force. Her eyes were wild, and it wasn’t a look Spike was completely unfamiliar with. He needed to calm her down, get her to come back to her senses.
He grabbed her arms again, this time holding them behind her back and pinning her in against him. Drusilla whimpered in frustration, but Spike kept her in place.
“Let her go, William.”
Spike looked up sharply, his heart dropping as he saw his father standing in front of them. He didn’t know where he’d come from, or how long he’d been out there. Had Liam been watching them when Buffy had been out? Had he seen the way she’d looked when she’d run to him to stop him from leaving?
He realized that was the thought at the front of his mind while he was pinning the arms of his sobbing girlfriend behind her back. He dropped his hold on Drusilla.
She pushed away from him, whimpering, looking every bit like the victim and not the one who had instigated it all. Liam rushed over to her, concern Spike didn’t believe for a moment on his face as he inspected Drusilla for bruises.
“William, what’s wrong with you?” Liam asked with an expression of well-manufactured shock as he turned towards his son. “That’s no way to treat a lady. I know I taught you better than that, boy…”
Spike would’ve laughed if he’d been able to find more humor than rising ire in the situation. Instead, he said nothing, his jaw clenched tight.
Drusilla whimpered, and Liam wrapped his arm around her. “God, we better take you in and put some ice on that. Nothing’s broken, is it?”
Dru shook her head slowly, looking up at Liam with wide, hurt eyes, and Spike felt something roll in his stomach. She knew—she fucking knew—what sort of monster his father was, and there she was, playing this sick little game with him. Liam and Drusilla both had the same intention—hurting him.
And it worked.
“Dru?” Spike asked softly, pain in his words and his eyes. When they fought, she always did things to hurt him, but this…this was too much for him to take.
Drusilla, however, saw what she was doing to him, but threw him a smug look before turning her attention back to Liam, her eyes tearful again. She was punishing him, and Spike was well aware of it. He hung his head with a sigh. After what he’d done, he deserved it anyway…
Spike watched as Liam led Drusilla back towards the house, fussing over her imagined injuries. He didn’t bother to go after them, knowing Drusilla well enough to know it wouldn’t be well received. She was vindictive, his Dru, and given the things she’d done to him over the slightest error on his part in the past, he knew she’d be nursing this grudge hard.
He leaned against the side of the DeSoto, his head hitting the black metal as he swore under his breath. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d managed to fuck everything up more than he ever could’ve imagined. And to top it all off, he was still bloody hung over.
Spike reached into the inside pocket of his long, leather duster and pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. He lit up, savoring his first, long drag.
He never should have come back here…
Please review. And I’ll just say now, wherever you think I’m going with this story, you’re probably, at best, only partially right. *wink*