Okay, so posting part one obviously kicked something loose because Dru started talking to me while I was in the kitchen making hot chocolate (banana flavoured, yum!) and this is what happened. It's completely unbeta'd so if you see any errors, let me know so I can
(Previous part[s] can be found here.)
Dru knows they’re coming long before they arrive, and has her dolls all lined up for a tea party, waiting to greet their guest. She’s clapping in delight even before the door is completely open.
“Have you brought me a present, my Spike? A pretty dolly to scream for me until the whispers stop? Is that why you’ve been gone so long?”
She slides from the bed, all lace and silk, and runs towards them, eager to claim her gift, then stops. Frowns. Approaches more cautiously, a puzzled expression on her pretty face.
“Oh, my Spike, you’ve caught yourself a very special kitten. He’s not for me at all, though his pain sings to me so prettily, my sweet boy. I smell innocence and grief and guilt and… Oh! Spike! I can smell Daddy!” Fingers hooked like claws reach out and grasp at Xander’s arm. “I smell Daddy on you, Kitten. Did he send you here, a present for his bestest boy and girl?”
And Xander cannot answer because he doesn’t understand a single thing she’s said so far, except the bit about the grief and guilt… and pain? But Spike is reaching out and prying her cold fingers from his arm, and drawing her away, back to the bed. He settles her in and rearranges the pillows and the dolls, and Xander can tell this is a regular thing.
This evil, soulless demon that has taken control of his life, such as it is, obviously cares a great deal for the strange, exotic beauty he is catering to. Xander knows that she is damaged somehow, almost childlike; though he doubts her ability to kill is much impaired. And he wonders again what Jesse had felt when the stake slid through his flesh. Did he have time to think, to regret that it was Xander who was responsible for taking his life? Had his, their, life flashed before his eyes, or might that even have happened before, when he was turned? If he had survived the accidental staking, could he have shown the care and love this unfamiliar monster now displays?
“Your kitten’s tearing tiny little holes into his soul, my Spike. I see them, full of dirty dark brown poison and they weep the purest blood-red rage and fury. He’s a strong one, is your kitten, but he doesn’t know his fate has been rewritten. Someone moved the picture, changed the clocks and made the moon go black. His coming here has altered all the truths I’ve seen so now I must see more.”
Dru pulls Spike down and kisses him quite delicately, then snuggles down into the heaps of comforters and pillows. “Your kitten’s hurting, Spike. So purple-pretty and so raw. I think you need to go and help him grieve and ease his guilt and let him bleed a little, just to let him know he’s still alive. But not too much or else he’ll leave us, and my Spike, that just won’t do. I could smell Daddy on him, so he’s special, just for us, so keep him safe and keep him close and make him ours, not hers no more.”
Xander hears her whisper, knows it’s likely about him but cannot find it in himself to give a damn. He’s taken all these possibilities away from Jesse, not on purpose, true, but in the end his friend still turned to dust and he was told that that was best for all concerned. How do they know? How could they know? They didn’t see his eyes, or hear his words before he died that second time. They just assume that demon equals bad; that vampires only want to kill or turn. And yet he’s here, right now, with two of them, and he’s feeling pretty confident that they don’t mean him harm, or not the lethal kind at least, although the thought of even that won’t make him turn and run in fear.
His memories of Jesse are interrupted by a cool hand taking his, and he looks up into eyes of purest blue that seem to burn a hole right through him to his soul.
“My princess needs her sleep, it’s almost dawn, so let’s adjourn this pity party for the night, okay with you, Pet?” And he’s led, unresisting, out of the bedroom down the hall into another room, not quite as large, but just as dominated by the black silk sheeted double bed and crimson drapes that stretch from floor to ceiling.
“I’m feeling pretty tired myself, so let’s just get you comfy, yeah, and then we’ll get some sleep and talk some more when evening comes.” And nimble fingers strip away his shirt and boots and socks and jeans. They linger on the waistband of his shorts before withdrawing with reluctance, which amuses, for a moment, till the apathy returns.
He’s pushed back on the bed and nudged and turned and just allows the vampire, Spike, to rearrange him as he wants before the blue-eyed blond slides in between the covers, right up next to him, and wraps his arms and legs around him tight.
“I could get used to cuddling up to you at night like this, so warm and cosy. You won’t try and leave us while I sleep, now will you, pretty? Won’t try to sneak out in the sunlight when you know that we can’t follow? You’d best not try it, pretty, cos I’d hate to have to hurt you but I would. You’re mine now, mine to keep and care for, hurt or harm. And you know it, deep inside you, where the pain is sharp as knives. So sleep now, and I’ll chase away the nightmares that won’t leave while you’re awake.”
And Xander sleeps, entangled in the limbs of something he’d been told to hate. And he sleeps well.