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writers_muses Prompt 63
Nov. 24th, 2008 09:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_pretty_fireSpike and the Slayer were fighting.
Cat and mouse, lion and mouse, tiger and mouse. Her Spike was going to rip the Slayer’s lungs out. Tear her heart straight from her chest and give it to Drusilla. A present for Princess. They’d been allies once, the Slayer and Spike. Just for a little while. But Spike knew who he was. Who he was, and where he stood.
The Slayer was the enemy.
No.
The Slayer was kissing him?
The Slayer was kissing Spike and Spike wasn’t pushing her away. Spike wasn’t even biting her tongue off.
Spike was kissing her back. Kissing the Slayer. Kissing and kissing and falling to the ground and ...
... and Drusilla woke up with a start, the pixies chasing the nightmares away. Spike was slumbering beside her, one arm behind his head and the other thrown casually across her waist, but she rolled away from him with a choked scream.
“Dru?” he yawned, half opening his eyes, “What’s wrong?”
Clutching her head, Drusilla untangled herself from the bed sheets and stumbled across the room. She was making a low, keening sound from somewhere in her throat, halfway between a sob and a whimper and leaned on the wall for support as she staggered towards the exit.
Not her Spike. Her sweet little Spike, as broken as Angel. The Slayer infesting his heart. Infesting his soul. No, no, no.
“Did you have a vision, pet?”
She replied with a sob and a nod, staggering towards the door.
“Got to get outside. Need the wind and the sky. Need the stars.”
“You can’t go outside, Dru,” said Spike, propping himself up on his elbows, “It’s day.”
“Stars!” she exclaimed, hands fumbling with the latch, “I need the stars! I need to hear them talk to me ...”
They can tell me it isn’t true! They can tell me it isn’t true!
“Dru! Drusilla!”
Spike was there, suddenly, arms around her waist as he pulled her bodily away from the door. She’d been so close, but, before she knew what she was doing, Drusilla was clinging to him instead, weeping helplessly against his cold skin. He stroked her hair, communicating love that went far beyond words with silent gestures.
Love. For now, for now. It was supposed to be eternal. Until the stars burn out, until the moon dies, until the ends of the Earth.
“Sweetheart, what did you see?” he asked, cradling her close.
She whimpered again. The tender concern in his voice made her heart ache. Metaphorically speaking. Her heart had died a long time ago.
Should have died, could have died, would have died. Why do I hurt? Why is it so cold?
“I was thinking,” he said, when he finally realised he wasn’t going to get a response, “We should leave the US. Go somewhere exotic. A carnival in Brazil? Moonlit strolls along the beach. Lots of uninhibited tourists. Plenty of rum.” He pressed his lips to her hair. “Yeah, South America is the place for us, pet. You’ll be happy there.”
“South America?” repeated Drusilla, tilting her head to look up at him suddenly. She could still see the Slayer in the back of her mind, but he loved Princess for now. For now.
For now. Cursed Sight. Cursed Sight, wicked Drusilla, poor broken Spike, swallowed up by the Slayer.
Before Spike could reply, she kissed him. Hard, desperate kisses, drawing blood for her to lap up with a cat-like tongue. Even Spike, who was used to Drusilla’s often erratic mood swings, was a little thrown.
“Take me to bed, my Spike,” she whispered, “Make me forget.”
She knew what he was thinking. He was wondering if he should persist and ask what it was she wanted to forget. But a slender hand drifted down his body, and he decided that cognitive thought processes could wait for now.
Kiss him and kiss him, hold him close. Before long, Princess won’t be able to do it at all. Princess won’t even be a princess anymore.
Prompt: “You do not choose the life you will experience ahead of time.”
Word Count: 665
Cat and mouse, lion and mouse, tiger and mouse. Her Spike was going to rip the Slayer’s lungs out. Tear her heart straight from her chest and give it to Drusilla. A present for Princess. They’d been allies once, the Slayer and Spike. Just for a little while. But Spike knew who he was. Who he was, and where he stood.
The Slayer was the enemy.
No.
The Slayer was kissing him?
The Slayer was kissing Spike and Spike wasn’t pushing her away. Spike wasn’t even biting her tongue off.
Spike was kissing her back. Kissing the Slayer. Kissing and kissing and falling to the ground and ...
... and Drusilla woke up with a start, the pixies chasing the nightmares away. Spike was slumbering beside her, one arm behind his head and the other thrown casually across her waist, but she rolled away from him with a choked scream.
“Dru?” he yawned, half opening his eyes, “What’s wrong?”
Clutching her head, Drusilla untangled herself from the bed sheets and stumbled across the room. She was making a low, keening sound from somewhere in her throat, halfway between a sob and a whimper and leaned on the wall for support as she staggered towards the exit.
Not her Spike. Her sweet little Spike, as broken as Angel. The Slayer infesting his heart. Infesting his soul. No, no, no.
“Did you have a vision, pet?”
She replied with a sob and a nod, staggering towards the door.
“Got to get outside. Need the wind and the sky. Need the stars.”
“You can’t go outside, Dru,” said Spike, propping himself up on his elbows, “It’s day.”
“Stars!” she exclaimed, hands fumbling with the latch, “I need the stars! I need to hear them talk to me ...”
They can tell me it isn’t true! They can tell me it isn’t true!
“Dru! Drusilla!”
Spike was there, suddenly, arms around her waist as he pulled her bodily away from the door. She’d been so close, but, before she knew what she was doing, Drusilla was clinging to him instead, weeping helplessly against his cold skin. He stroked her hair, communicating love that went far beyond words with silent gestures.
Love. For now, for now. It was supposed to be eternal. Until the stars burn out, until the moon dies, until the ends of the Earth.
“Sweetheart, what did you see?” he asked, cradling her close.
She whimpered again. The tender concern in his voice made her heart ache. Metaphorically speaking. Her heart had died a long time ago.
Should have died, could have died, would have died. Why do I hurt? Why is it so cold?
“I was thinking,” he said, when he finally realised he wasn’t going to get a response, “We should leave the US. Go somewhere exotic. A carnival in Brazil? Moonlit strolls along the beach. Lots of uninhibited tourists. Plenty of rum.” He pressed his lips to her hair. “Yeah, South America is the place for us, pet. You’ll be happy there.”
“South America?” repeated Drusilla, tilting her head to look up at him suddenly. She could still see the Slayer in the back of her mind, but he loved Princess for now. For now.
For now. Cursed Sight. Cursed Sight, wicked Drusilla, poor broken Spike, swallowed up by the Slayer.
Before Spike could reply, she kissed him. Hard, desperate kisses, drawing blood for her to lap up with a cat-like tongue. Even Spike, who was used to Drusilla’s often erratic mood swings, was a little thrown.
“Take me to bed, my Spike,” she whispered, “Make me forget.”
She knew what he was thinking. He was wondering if he should persist and ask what it was she wanted to forget. But a slender hand drifted down his body, and he decided that cognitive thought processes could wait for now.
Kiss him and kiss him, hold him close. Before long, Princess won’t be able to do it at all. Princess won’t even be a princess anymore.
Prompt: “You do not choose the life you will experience ahead of time.”
Word Count: 665
