NOTE: THIS IS THE PREMIERE DRU POV FIC FROM ME! BE KIND AND SEND FEEDBACK! This fic is a companion piece to go with my Spike piece. There, hopefully, will be an Angel one next.

TITLE:  the Lemons  1/1

COMPANION PIECE FOR: i am what i am

SUMMARY: DRUSILLA reflects.

RATING: R (character death)

CATEGORY: Angst

SPOILERS: Fool For Love, Darla and general buffy season 2

DISCLAIMER:  Joss Whedon owns all. Alanis Morrisette owns "Can't Not".

DEDICATION: For Rabbit. Thanks SOOO much! And to Tali for the encouragement.

FEEDBACK:  PLEASE! It means SOOOO much! PLEASE PLEASE!

THANKS TO: James, Juliet, David and Julie. AND TO: Ryan, Ash, Evil Willow, Michelle, Alee, and my two bitches.

FOOLS FOR LOVE

-the Lemons-

                I used to eat lemons. They would tickle my tongue. Me mum would get them for me once a week when I was little. When I was older, she cursed me. She said it was the lemons that cursed me. I wonder sometimes if she was right. I miss the lemons so. Such a sour, wretched, wicked fruit. Mum said too many lemons would eat the sweetness right out of a person, and she said it was the devils work. She said Satan lived in those lemons, and when the pictures stared coming, she said it was through the lemons that they'd gotten me. But I've met Satan, and he didn't look like a lemon.

                We used to have such wonderful parties. Satan and I would dance, and drink, but I always felt left out. She had his heart, I didn't. Sometimes he wouldn't even play with me, he'd want *her*. Not that I didn't like grandmother, but she was no lemon. I miss those parties. I can't help but come to them now. Spike always promised me a party, but we never had one. So I come and play at someone else's party and I don't understand why they always scream when I was invited. But no matter because the screams sing to me above the music.

                Oh the screams! They fill me up and make me tummy grumble. I like the bear that gets all grumbly in his tumbly. I used to dance on Saturday and Spike would be Tigger. And he'd try to pounce on me, but the bear and Tigger just weren't friends like that. But Spike couldn't see that because he and my Angel were friends like that and sometimes I'd get to watch.

                I'd watch Satan sometimes. He was vicious and heavenly. He was purely divine. He was my Angel. He was my savior. He set me free. He was my world, but the work came tumblin' down, like Mum said would happen one day. Damn those lemons!

                I watch the stage where the music comes from and the woman's eyes are much like my Angel's. Dark. Mysterious. Angry. And he was angry, not like Spike. Spike liked to get angry and kill everyone, which was fun. He would clean the red off of me. He used to give me baths, but I always remembered me mum bathing me in a tub, not with her tongue. But no matter because I was always so clean. But my Angel was from the heavens. He didn't get angry like Spike. He got worse.

                And I loved it.

                Spike used to tell me that sometimes I was crazy, and that sometimes I was confused, and that it was hard to tell the difference. He told me that the years after my Angel left, I got worse, but that I was starting to get better again. But I don't want to be better again, because without the moon songs, it would hurt too much. It's so empty inside when it's just me. Sometimes the songs stop, and the whispers stop, and I can just be me. Like now. But I don't know who I am, because everything I was, is no more, and everything that I am, isn't either. Because everything I was and am isn't here anymore. He went away.

                Sometimes I can see him in my head or hear him in the wind. I can close my eyes and see him staring back at me. I can see him and hear him when he took me. I can see his eyes when he showed me how much he loved me. And oh how he did love me! Not as much as Spike. Spike didn't want to hurt me and it wasn't fair. After my Angel left, my body sang to him but he would not hurt me, not like my Angel.

                My precious Angel rescued me. He set me free. Some days I wouldn't be able to walk. Somedays I spent chained to the bed listening the birds just outside my reach. He used to bring me birds. My Angel always knew what I needed. He knew what I craved. I miss him so. My body cries for him, it weeps for him, it sings for his fingers, for his manhood, for his fangs. It calls for his blood, which he never gave, only once did he (when he set me free.) Oh my Angel!

                If I close my eyes, I can see beyond the walls and humans. I can see beyond time. I can see him walking towards me. I was shaking. I always shook. My body would tremble and the moon would make me cry. And he hated when I cried, and I always did and he would just hit harder and I would love it. I loved it because he wanted me to and he was everything to me, so I loved it. And after a while, I wanted it. I'd strip, and carry the whip or mace to him, and he'd hurt me. He'd punish me for being naughty. I miss my Angel!

                *Drusilla.*

I hear them. They're back.

*Drusilla. Go. Shh.* She sings. *Remember Drusilla.* She whispers. *God doesn't want you.*

My Angel told me that. My fingers slide down my body and I wish they were his.

*He doesn't love you.*

Yes he does.

*Never.*

Don't say that. I cry, I plead to the moon when she sings.

*No he didn't. He hated you. He hurt you. He raped you.*

NO! I growl and grab the first girl that walks by. She screams and makes me happy again.

*You're bad.*

They'll never be quiet. They'll never stop. They come and come and come and they'll never give up.

*We're everywhere.*

Go away. Let me be. Don't tell me such nasty things.

*We're everywhere. We're in the blood.*

No. I stand up. Sometimes they're mean, sometimes they tell me wonderful things. It all depends on the moon. They were mean the night my Angel went away. I can still remember going to Spike and weeping. I felt my Angel leave. I felt empty inside. I still do. And no matter what I do, I can't get him out of my body. I don't want to. If I did, what would I be? What would I have left.

*Nothing. You are nothing. You'd have nothing.*

                NO! I stand up and grab someone. My teeth sink into them and it tastes so delicious. So bitter. Like my lemons. And when I think of my lemons, I can think back to Satan. And when I do, I am whole. And I like being whole.

                The voices are new tonight. I knew they'd be coming. Every night I heard of them more and more. They threaten me. They want to take the lemons and I can't let them. The lemons are all I have left.

                *Go to him Drusilla.*

                I don't wanna listen, but it calls to me. I have to. I have to abide. I can't not. How can't I not?

                I sit in the car. He sits besides me, not knowing his fate, not knowing why I made him drive me here. I've been listening to the voices and they've been singing and I can't stop them. I can't not listen. I can't stop and I can't not listen and I can't sit here any longer. I can feel him inside. He's so close. My Satan, my everything is so close. And I wonder what he will say, or what he will do, and I wonder if things will ever be the same.

                But I can't move. So I sit and listen to the music, whether in my head or not, I like it.

//I'd be lying if I said I was completely unscathed,

Would I be proving you right with my silence or my retaliation?

Would I debilitate you here in my nonreaction, yeah?

And how would I explain?

And how would I explain this to my children if I had them?//

                My children. I clutch my abdomen. I never had children from my body. Mum said it was the lemons. She said no sweetness could come from my bitter body. But she was wrong. I did have something sweet. I did give life to something sweet and pure. And as much as he hated my Angel, he loved him as much. I know he did. My Spike. William. My poet. My childe. I know it hurt him when my Angel claimed him as his childe. As much as Satan loved me, he hated me. I was no childe. And I know that.

                Spike was my childe. Spike is my childe. But I can't forgive him. He hurt me far worse than the lemons.


//Because I can't not, because I can't not

Because I can't not afford to be misread one more time

Would it be whining if I said I needed a hug?

Would you feel slighted if I said your love's not enough?

And how can I complain?

And how can I complain when I'm the one who reaches for it?//

                And I didn't complain. I couldn't. How does one fight Satan? How do you wage war on the lemons? The Queen of Hearts couldn't. She tried. I can't not crave the pain. I can't not crave his fingers. My Spike tried to understand. But he couldn't.

//Because I can't not, because I can't not

Because I can't not walk without my crutches

Because I can't not, because I can't not

Because I can't help wonder why you ask me

To all the unheard wisdom in the school yard//

                I often think and wonder what it would be like to be just me. I wonder what it would be like to be normal again. I know I'm not right. And most days, I don't feel it. Most days the voices only whisper. Most days the moon doesn't sing, and Miss. Edith keeps quiet. And some days they scream. But today, they don't say anything. They make me ill. They think they have the answers and perhaps they do.


//You think you're the right ones

You think you're the charmed ones I'm sure

But how can you go on with such conviction?

Who do you think you are why do you question me?//

                I never questioned him. I never stopped him from taking my childe from me. I never stopped him because I knew it useless. The voices screamed that day. I can still hear them. They told me I'd die if I dare say anything. So I didn't. And I've regretted it ever since.


//Because we can't not, Because we can't not

Because we can't help laugh at under estimations

Because we can't not, because we can't not

Because we can't not afford to be misled one more time//

                And I won't. The voices are quiet, and for once, I won't listen. I turn to the man and snap his neck. I step out of the car and walk inside.

//Because we can't not, because we can't not

Because we can't not help without your willingness//

                I open the door and step inside. It's beautiful inside. And I see him, my Angel! He can't say anything and all I can say is, "Why do you affect me? Why do you affect me still? Why do you hinder me? Why do you hinder me still? Why do you unnerve me? Why do you unnerve me still? Why do you trigger me? Why do you trigger me still?"

And he stares at me and says, "because I can't not."

And behind my Angel, always behind him, is my sweet wicked William. The sugar for my lemon.

CONTINUE ON