Bad Dog

The factory was none too homely, but they'd made the best of it. It was safe and deserted, and however irritating and stupid the Aurelian minions were, at least they kept guard and made the place reasonably secure.

He found Dru in the bedroom, chatting with her dolls. "'Lo, darling."

She swayed towards him, that faraway look in her eyes that said she'd been off playing with the stars and the fairies and whatever else'd called to her broken mind.

He hung his catch out of the way and opened his arms wide. He'd make sure she ate in a bit, but first off he just wanted to gather her in and hold her close, remind her how much she was loved.

"Spike... my little Spike." Her face lit up as she studied him, then dropped like a child who'd had its favourite toy taken away.

"What's wrong, love?" He reached out to embrace her, eager to comfort her over whatever had her rattled.

A resounding slap around his face. Spike reeled, more in shock than pain; his princess was still so weak.

"Baby?"

"Bad boy. Bad boy's been playing in the sunshine." Dru looked both hurt and angry. "Wicked Spike all covered in gold."

He clasped his hands on her shoulders, then rubbed one up over her neck to caress her cheek. "What's got you all upset, love?"

She turned her face into his hand, then vamped out and nipped his palm.

He was startled, but let his thumb brush against a fang. If Drusilla was feeling mischievous, that was a good sign for sure.

"Eat first, Dru, play after."

She caressed his thumb with her tongue, then bit down on it, hard.

Spike yelped. That was not playful. He gritted his teeth and barely resisted the urge to belt her around the head. Dru liked, sometimes needed, a bit of violence, but in her fragile state he was taking no chances, no matter how much she riled him or how much she wanted it. (He was not Angelus. He cared far too much to truly damage her.)

"Dru?" he managed. At least it might get a bit of blood down her throat, and he hadn't been with her for over a century without being used to getting roughed up, but he could see something was wrong for her to be glaring at him the way she was.

She let go, shook away her game face, and now her eyes were wet with tears. "My poor Spike, all burned from the brightness and you don't even know. Burned up, dust and ashes in my mouth."

"Drusilla..." He couldn't make head or tail of what she was saying, but it was obvious she was distressed. He shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders before pulling her into his arms. She didn't resist this time, collapsing into his chest like someone had cut her strings, but she whined softly and wouldn't stop shaking her head.

Gently, Spike gathered her up and carried her to bed. She slumped into a pile of leather and cotton, wrapping his duster more firmly around herself, then sobbing as if something about it was distressing her even more. She was quiet, almost drowned out by the chanting from the minions who were tending to the Annoying One, but it was still painful to listen to.

For a few minutes Spike sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair back from her face and wiping away her tears. He got such pleasure from doting on her, running his fingers through her curls. So different from Buffy's. Cool and dark, not liquid sunlight. Though both were scented with danger and death...

He pushed the thought away; the girl wasn't 'Buffy', she was the Slayer, and she wasn't his concern. Siren song of her blood aside, she was just a pretty lass with a few unearned superpowers, and he was going to kill her before too long. Besides, he preferred brunettes.

Dru started whimpering again.

"What's wrong, love?"

"I think sometimes that all my hair will fall out and I'll be bald."

"Never happen, sweets. You know that."

She just shook her head, eyes wide and sad. "Would you still love me, Spike? Inside and outside?"

"Always and forever, pet. Eyeballs to entrails."

She didn't look convinced, and his repeated assurances and promises of devotion didn't seem to soothe her the way they always had before.

Eventually he gave up trying to draw her out, gesturing to the meal he'd caught instead. "I brought you something young and fresh to eat, Dru. Will you eat for me?"

She studied him solemnly. "Poor William," she said. "Lost in the light and can't find your way home."

He couldn't recall the last time she'd used his given name. He hadn't a clue what'd made her say it now, nor why she thought he was lost when he was sitting right here next to her.

She stroked her fingers over his cheek, and the look in her eyes was almost pity. "You should go up and cleanse with the others. Wash off the sunshine."

Spike considered reminding her he'd not been near the sun, that it was nighttime and he'd been sussing out the Slayer and getting some food for his beloved. But it seemed like a lot of effort to state the obvious. "Rather be with you than poncing about with those wankers."

She pouted and whined again.

"Now now, kitten, you know I'd do anything for you," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll go get chanty with the fellas. But you got to do me a favour, too." He unhooked the girl from the wall and brought it to her. "Promise me you'll eat something."

Dru didn't look happy, but she vamped out again, and he was so relieved to see it, he didn't even mind what she was making him do. A boring ritual with a bunch of hidebound traditionalists was his idea of torture (and not the fun kind), but if it got his dark princess eating, he'd chant all bloody day.