Note: This was inspired by a prompt on my LiveJournal from a friend who wanted a drabble starring Spike, in which he had to use the phrase "nipples are honest". This is what came out after my 45 minute limit was up.

The lace skirts of one of Dru's sightless dolls scratched at his thigh as he rolled over. He reached down, grabbed the thing by the hair, and threw it carelessly, hearing a satisfying shatter as its porcelain head connected with the stone wall.

Dru stirred, and opened her eyes.

He once had entertained the idea that Dru was just a bit more lucid after sex, but as the decades had mounted into centuries she had proven that her madness was constant and pervasive. Not that that had made a damn drop of difference to him, one way or another. She was always his white queen, and her madness translated into a creative cruelty that he could only snag at the edges of.

"I heard her scream when she smashed." Dru's lilty sing-song filled the room. "Dolly's always been a screamer. Jack fell down, broke his crown. Jill's falling..."

He could smell last night's kill on her mouth, and imagined traces of blood between her white teeth.

When he kissed her, he could taste the girl's last gurgley scream before he sank his teeth into her sun-kissed throat. He fancied that California girls just tasted better, their blood packed with all those nutrients and minerals and sunbeams that he would never feel again. Made a vamp almost buzz with energy, like drinking liquid batteries.

He disengaged himself from her tongue, and lowered his mouth bruisingly on her left breast.

"Angel" Her sigh was delighted and breathy, and put him off completely.

"Dru." He gave her a withering look that she smiled at. "I'm going out."

He had pulled on his old black jeans before Dru's exquisitely manicured hand gripped his wrist, dragging him back onto the bed. He landed so that his back was at her face, but her hand released his arm and began to travel up his side, cold as ice.

"My Angel's coming back to me." He could feel her lips at the nape of his neck. "And when he does, we'll have a tea party. With all the Dollies. And crumpets."

Bloody hell. It always did come back to sodding, sodding Angel, didn't it.

"Secrets and lies, throw away the key." Dru was off again. "But he'll be more honest to us, won't he."

Her hand traveled upward, her cool fingers skimming his shoulder and resting on his face in the dark. "He won't have a soul to blind his eyes." Her sharp nails grazed his ear. "Nor to deafen his ears from the music of blood." She continued, her soft voice echoing in the stone room. "He won't have a mouth that will love the precious Slayer, nor a nose that reviles the sweet smell of blood."

He shivered a little as her hand roamed across his chest, and he felt Dru smile before she bit him lightly on the nape of his neck.

"A night-heart with a winter breeze blowing through his lovely little tree-branch veins." She rolled him on his back. "Uncomplicated. Not like me. Not like my sisters, pretty maids all in a row."

Her eyes glittered, and he caught the flash of a full-blooded smile on her teeth before her mouth decended onto his chest.

He played along, as he always did. "Sure, Dru," he folded his arms behind his head. "Even his bleedin' nipples'll be honest as anything."

There was no more talk of Angel, which was good enough for him.