Title: Death Wish
Author: silverthorned
Rating: R
Category: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, creator.
Summary: Set during "Crush" but very AU after Spike walks in to
find Drusilla. Death comes in many ways, sometimes with a
choice.
Note: I know this has been done before, but I hope you enjoy
my take on it. For everyone who has checked out my website,
the stories I'm posting here at ff.net are almost the same.
I've taken the liberty of updating and correcting them as I
post here.

*

She was once so beautiful to me, with her dark hair, her heart-
shaped face, her tilted eyes. She is a broken girl in a woman's
body. I can still remember the feel of her breasts, the taste of
her mouth, the smell of her skin, like rose petals dried in the
sun, dead and warm.

So black and lovely, the only one who saw me, and I loved her so
much, that every night, I would gaze at her, sleeping, and wonder
why she chose me. She was my salvation from a life of rejection.
She gave me courage, fearlessness, and love, a love that was
never entirely mine.

She left me.

I hated her for it, with even more passion than I'd loved her
with.

I knew the moment I walked in that she was here. I could smell
the brash scent of the undead rose and the subtle scent of her,
my dead one.

I wanted to take her, crush her lips with all the intensity and
fierceness of the hate I felt. I wanted to make her moan, make
her come, and then kill her, watch her dust cover my hands, but
I couldn't do it. Over one hundred and twenty years of memories
wouldn't let me do it.

She said, "I have a gift for you, my William."

Then I smelled it, blood, fresh, human and on the verge of death.
There was something strange in the blood itself. It was...sweet
and spicy, heady and intoxicating.

I stared at Dru in horror.

"How?"

"I called her and she came, little kitten to be petted. I
brought her for you, she can be yours now, all you have to do is
save her."

She moved aside, and I could see Buffy, blood all around her.

I couldn't move, and although I knew I should take her to a
hospital, I also knew she wouldn't make it there.

Drusilla had moved closer to me and she took my limp wrist in her
hand.

"Make her drink, Spike."

I looked down and saw she had sliced my wrist open. Cold blood
sluggishly dripped to the floor.

I looked her straight in the eyes.

"Why, Dru?"

"They said it's what you want, what you need. My dance is done
and hers has begun."

Blood still dripped. Drusilla didn't blink.

I stepped to Buffy, knelt and offered her my wrist. I felt sure
that what little consciousness she had left would rebel, so I
didn't force. She would make the choice for me. Her eyes
focused on mine, glazed, and then they went suddenly clear.

I saw something I'd only seen twice before, in the eyes of two
women--the gratitude of relinquishing a spent life.

I saw her death wish.

She started to drink.

I shut my eyes.