Disclaimer: The almighty Joss Whedon (bows, worships) owns these
characters, I do not.
A/N: - - denotes italics. BTW, to all those that were reading my stories,
and wish to continue with them. They are at , under the
pen name Lúthien Silimaurë.
Summary: Dru muses on faeries, Spike muses on love.
Dru knew a thing or two about faeries. Humans thought they were little with multi-coloured wings and golden hair, like her Dark Knight, Spike. But they weren't. Faeries were small, but too small for a normal person to see. Dru saw them, though, saw their red little eyes, and their black iridescent wings. They carried tiny little swords, and wore tiny little tunics, and tiny little boots. They shined like stars, except they shined red. Like blood.
"Baddies and beasties," she cooed to her dolls. Yes, they were naughty beasties. They liked to try and eat her hair, or cut it off with their little swords of black metal.
She could feel Spike before he even put his arms around her, like electricity coming into the room. The essence of chaos around him, everything dark, and evil, and when he came into a room, the air around him shimmered. Like he was warping reality. And he was like the faeries humans thought of, small with golden hair, and his multi-coloured wings that only she could see. Wings that left feathers in their wake, as he was constantly losing them. Oh, how she loved him.
"Spike," she sang softly.
"Hmm?" He nuzzled her neck, buried his face in her hair. Dru always smelled of lavender, and lilac, and roses and sunshine, even though she relinquished the sun long ago, and she didn't even know that was how she smelled. Her skin was soft like the velvet she loved to wear, her beautiful flowing gowns of red, and black, and virginal white.
"Sometimes I think all my hair will fall out," she ran her hands through her hair, then down over Spike's arms.
"Never happen," he said against her neck, it was the second time he'd told her that this week. Dru turned to face him, and rested her head on his shoulder. Spike smelled so good, like cigarettes and leather, and naughty but nice, warm feelings that started down there, and blood, and there was a hint of flowers on him. Had he sent a poor minion out under a blanket to pick her flowers? Dru smiled, and licked his neck, sending tingles down his spine.
"The faeries are keepers of hair, Spike, and they like to cut it off...or eat it." She swayed her hips, and danced to music that only she could hear. Another reason Spike loved her. Always dancing to her own tunes.
"I won't let them touch my Princess's beautiful long locks," he said with a false anger that she believed, and gave the two finger salute to no one in particular. Dru laughed and clapped her hands.
"My Dark Knight," she said lovingly, and he took her into his arms.
Who said vampires couldn't love? He'd always wondered this. For, he loved Drusilla with all of him, loved her hair, and her eyes, and her hands, all of her. He loved how mad she was, loved that she could usually predict the future, loved how she played with her dolls. He bloody loved her, and would kill the person that said vampires couldn't love because they didn't have souls if the git was still alive.
All things can love. Demons can love, humans can love, beasts and baddies can love. He'd listened before to Drusilla as she'd told him of faeries, and even faeries could love, she said, because all things can love. Spike believed this. He believed that even those with no souls could love, because what else was there besides the killing? You still went back to the place you called home, and you had love in you. You had love for the kill, love for the blood and destruction. See, not all love is roses and chocolates.
Dru ran one painted black nail over his cheek, drawing blood and licking it slowly off. Spike let out a ragged, unneeded breath, she chuckled and kissed him, the taste of his own blood sending zings of pleasure through the blonde. "Mmm, Dru, love."
"Does my Spike feel the tingles down there?" Spike chuckled, and pulled her flush against him, letting his Dark Princess feel his hardness. He loved how she referred to it, as if she'd never done it before and it was something new. "You naughty, naughty boy," she cooed, and he kissed her deeply.
"Only naughty when I'm with you, kitten." With swift hands he undressed her, and placed her softly on the bed. His own clothes were off as quickly as hers, and he lay down beside her, smooth hands roaming over soft skin. There were more kisses, heated, and he moved over her, sucking and licking at any space of flesh he could reach.
Soon, she was mewling beneath him, cooing her dark and nonsensical sweet nothings dipped in honey and sprinkled with sugar. "Mmm, please, Spike, please make the sun burst above the horizon and the ocean crash...make the birds stop singing to listen to our own music."
The blonde had to smirk, he loved her pleas the best, they were so poetic, and he was sure she didn't mean for them to be. God, how he loved her.
They found a rhythmic union, moving, climbing to her sun burst and her ocean crash, and in that moment he believed that sound did stop, that the birds did listen to their music, and he believed that their music was beautiful. He adorned her with endearments, whispering that he loved her, stroking her hair, promising her the world as she calmed down.
He threw back the covers, and they got under them, and he drew his Goddess to him, trailing long fingers over alabaster skin.
Spike believed a lot of things, but most of all, he believed he loved Dru, and that he could love, no matter what anyone said.
Miss Edith knew a thing or two about faeries, knew what her lovely Drusilla knew. But Miss Edith also knew that faeries could also be wonderful and bright, and full of dark promises and betrayal. Spike was a faery. Miss Edith knew this. Perhaps she'd tell Drusilla, but not now, in this moment, as her Dru was so happy. Miss Edith left her musings on faeries unsaid, and let the couple sleep.
[End]
Dru knew a thing or two about faeries. Humans thought they were little with multi-coloured wings and golden hair, like her Dark Knight, Spike. But they weren't. Faeries were small, but too small for a normal person to see. Dru saw them, though, saw their red little eyes, and their black iridescent wings. They carried tiny little swords, and wore tiny little tunics, and tiny little boots. They shined like stars, except they shined red. Like blood.
"Baddies and beasties," she cooed to her dolls. Yes, they were naughty beasties. They liked to try and eat her hair, or cut it off with their little swords of black metal.
She could feel Spike before he even put his arms around her, like electricity coming into the room. The essence of chaos around him, everything dark, and evil, and when he came into a room, the air around him shimmered. Like he was warping reality. And he was like the faeries humans thought of, small with golden hair, and his multi-coloured wings that only she could see. Wings that left feathers in their wake, as he was constantly losing them. Oh, how she loved him.
"Spike," she sang softly.
"Hmm?" He nuzzled her neck, buried his face in her hair. Dru always smelled of lavender, and lilac, and roses and sunshine, even though she relinquished the sun long ago, and she didn't even know that was how she smelled. Her skin was soft like the velvet she loved to wear, her beautiful flowing gowns of red, and black, and virginal white.
"Sometimes I think all my hair will fall out," she ran her hands through her hair, then down over Spike's arms.
"Never happen," he said against her neck, it was the second time he'd told her that this week. Dru turned to face him, and rested her head on his shoulder. Spike smelled so good, like cigarettes and leather, and naughty but nice, warm feelings that started down there, and blood, and there was a hint of flowers on him. Had he sent a poor minion out under a blanket to pick her flowers? Dru smiled, and licked his neck, sending tingles down his spine.
"The faeries are keepers of hair, Spike, and they like to cut it off...or eat it." She swayed her hips, and danced to music that only she could hear. Another reason Spike loved her. Always dancing to her own tunes.
"I won't let them touch my Princess's beautiful long locks," he said with a false anger that she believed, and gave the two finger salute to no one in particular. Dru laughed and clapped her hands.
"My Dark Knight," she said lovingly, and he took her into his arms.
Who said vampires couldn't love? He'd always wondered this. For, he loved Drusilla with all of him, loved her hair, and her eyes, and her hands, all of her. He loved how mad she was, loved that she could usually predict the future, loved how she played with her dolls. He bloody loved her, and would kill the person that said vampires couldn't love because they didn't have souls if the git was still alive.
All things can love. Demons can love, humans can love, beasts and baddies can love. He'd listened before to Drusilla as she'd told him of faeries, and even faeries could love, she said, because all things can love. Spike believed this. He believed that even those with no souls could love, because what else was there besides the killing? You still went back to the place you called home, and you had love in you. You had love for the kill, love for the blood and destruction. See, not all love is roses and chocolates.
Dru ran one painted black nail over his cheek, drawing blood and licking it slowly off. Spike let out a ragged, unneeded breath, she chuckled and kissed him, the taste of his own blood sending zings of pleasure through the blonde. "Mmm, Dru, love."
"Does my Spike feel the tingles down there?" Spike chuckled, and pulled her flush against him, letting his Dark Princess feel his hardness. He loved how she referred to it, as if she'd never done it before and it was something new. "You naughty, naughty boy," she cooed, and he kissed her deeply.
"Only naughty when I'm with you, kitten." With swift hands he undressed her, and placed her softly on the bed. His own clothes were off as quickly as hers, and he lay down beside her, smooth hands roaming over soft skin. There were more kisses, heated, and he moved over her, sucking and licking at any space of flesh he could reach.
Soon, she was mewling beneath him, cooing her dark and nonsensical sweet nothings dipped in honey and sprinkled with sugar. "Mmm, please, Spike, please make the sun burst above the horizon and the ocean crash...make the birds stop singing to listen to our own music."
The blonde had to smirk, he loved her pleas the best, they were so poetic, and he was sure she didn't mean for them to be. God, how he loved her.
They found a rhythmic union, moving, climbing to her sun burst and her ocean crash, and in that moment he believed that sound did stop, that the birds did listen to their music, and he believed that their music was beautiful. He adorned her with endearments, whispering that he loved her, stroking her hair, promising her the world as she calmed down.
He threw back the covers, and they got under them, and he drew his Goddess to him, trailing long fingers over alabaster skin.
Spike believed a lot of things, but most of all, he believed he loved Dru, and that he could love, no matter what anyone said.
Miss Edith knew a thing or two about faeries, knew what her lovely Drusilla knew. But Miss Edith also knew that faeries could also be wonderful and bright, and full of dark promises and betrayal. Spike was a faery. Miss Edith knew this. Perhaps she'd tell Drusilla, but not now, in this moment, as her Dru was so happy. Miss Edith left her musings on faeries unsaid, and let the couple sleep.
[End]