Title: Reds, Blues, and Greens

Author: MAC/Undead Euro-Trash

Feedback: W_U_L_L_F@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: so not mine

Rating: dunno, don't do ratings... R?

Summary: Flicker won't let you taint the glow... 2nd in the 'They Cry' series

Spoilers: Everything up to some point in season 7, somewhere after 'Lessons'

"Now, now," she chided in an airy tone. She was flitting around, her long skirts rustling as she danced around him. "I brought you a gift," she giggled, batting her eyes teasingly. "It's a special one, like the one you open on Christmas Eve. But you needn't of shaken the box," she smiled at him, wiping the blood from her split lip.

"Mummy never took care of her boy right, here to fix it though." She absently twirled a strand of hair around her finger; "Head's all a flutter with guilt and love. My poor Spike, always was Romeo, but the poison's not strong enough." She suddenly straightened; her eyes like tiny daggers, flicking over scorched skin. "*Your* poison's never strong enough."

"Mine kills, mine makes widows, mine makes orphans... mine's still strong. Your poison used to burn- -" She bit her bottom lip and ran her fingers excitedly through her curtain of dark hair, letting it fly in a mess over her eyes. "- -going down the throat, was like mine. But locked up in a bottle it weakened, like wine kept too long..." flipping her hair back, she gave him a knowing look. "Turned to vinegar."

"Yeah, m'not what I was, can you piss off now?" Spike growled, turning away from Dru. And this time it was Dru, had felt her face against his knuckles. Needed to get back, had to guard against trespassers, had to check passes and mark them accordingly. Things were pouring out onto the floor the more she talked; memories or just blood- -he didn't know. They were all the same anymore, blood and memories. His memories were all coated thick in blood, and the soundtrack was filled with sobs and screams. Sounds that used to be lovely, things he had enjoyed, things he now hated himself for.

"Naughty mouth," Drusilla's smile widened, "Ought to be washed out with soap. Used to scrub and scrub, till my skin broke, till the water turned pink, never liked pink after that... liked red. You liked red," she tilted her head, obviously remembering some moment she was fond of. "Liked blue too."

Spike nodded, but his face lacked the smile hers had, "Blue of bruises, of blood without air... of eyes filled with so much fear. We mixed blues and reds, poodle, like paint," he ducked his head. "God Dru, the things we painted," his voice cracked, making the red of blood mix with the blue of sorrow.

"Lovely, weren't they?" she let out a happy sigh, "Our paintings."

"Were artwork," he softly agreed. "But not anymore, just horror and the crust of spilled blood." Spike let out a shudder and looked down at his hands. "It never washes Dru," he looked up at the woman who he had once loved. "The things we did... can't cry them out. No matter how deep I fucking cut," his hands ran over the fresh slashes along his chest. He shot up from the floor, a growl pouring out from his lips. "I *can't* bleed the bad out!" Blue eyes blazed gold, fangs elongated, ridges protruded... "The screams are always there, always there, and I can't be rid of them."

"Got a light," she nodded somberly, "Your soul... nasty flicker, telling my boy that he's beneath lit'l girls, letting him be stomped on by their shoes. *He* used to do the stomping. Was a wolf in a world filled with sheep." She spun ecstatically in a quick circle, her skirts fluttering up. Coming to a jerky stop, she moved close to his side; leaning in and absently running her fingers down his chest as she nibbled at his lips. "The big bad wolf, not the one in the fairy stories, the other. The one that snatched up Lit'l Red Riding Hood and left her body for her gandmummy to find."

"Yeah I was." Spike let his forehead lay against his mad darling's crown, letting his demonic visage melt away as his shoulders sagged in defeat and his hands fell to his sides. "Soiled their flesh, poisoned their minds, and broke their hearts."

"Just like you should have," Dru's arms snaked around him, pulling him closer into her embrace. "Dropped all the dollies, smashed and broken, crunching under your feet as you walk. Found out they have, box your ears for it, they're cross with you, Spike."

Spike chuckled slightly, it bordered on tears, "I must be crazy as a jay," he laughed brokenly. "Have to be, seeing as how you're making perfect bloody sense."

"Someone moved the mirror," she let a kiss linger in his hair. "You can see more reflected in the background now that you've got all the pieces." Her fingers began to trace patterns on his shoulders. "But you still can't put it together, you like the mixed mess that you've made, Spike. You like the tears of it. Always did like what was bad for you..." her fingernails scratched at his scalp, "Like... green lit'l girls."

Spike stiffened, "Mustn't be as crazy as I thought," he backed away from her, "You're not making sense, luv."

"Liar," she smiled sweetly at him. "Got it all from your head, the girl is in everything. Kitten needed an owner, found her mewling for a saucer of milk, but the mean man wouldn't fetch her any. Took her home, set her in a basket... green, glowing kitten."

She made little jabbing motions with her index finger toward Spike, and playfully snapped her teeth at him. "Makes you see red, makes you cry blue; lit'l pet yanks your chain." Drusilla giggled happily, her hands moving to grasp at her skirts; "Flicker won't let you taint the glow." She scowled disdainfully down at his chest, "Sets everything in a tizzy."

"Don't touch the girl, Dru."

Abruptly his dark princess' mood changed, her face twisting in anger; she narrowed her dark eyes slightly. "But the kitten cried for her dinner, and- -" she reached out with her nails, clawing at the air in front of his eyes, "- -scratched the curtains, for she wasn't given any."

She continued to glare at him, "You want her, and lit'l girls always wanted you..." She smiled something horrible, "Least, they *thought* they did." She erupted into peals of laughter. The giddy sound filled the darkness around them, bouncing from wall to wall. The sound grew louder as he sunk to his knees, face buried in his hands. "Didn't want you *after*," she laughed, dropping down next to him. "Never wanted you after."

Reds and blues, the colours marked everything, stained and marred. Couldn't wash them and couldn't hide them under long sleeves. Things he had tried to forget, wounds he had tried to heal...

Dru used her nails to scratch him open, to spill his secrets out onto the floor. Let the world see what he'd done, let them judge and mock. Was all her fault things were red, her fault for making him this way; could've lived a short blue life. A life filled with tears and a dying mother, a life that would've meant nothing and would've been forgotten. Not even a sentence left scrawled out on a dusty page...

"Blood's all dried up," she told him, "Poetry's become nothing but lonely inverted rhymes on the tip of your tongue, Spike. You can't bleed the phrases to me anymore." Sadly she stood, "You don't want to."

She let her hands dance through his unruly hair; "Mummy will fix it, do it right. Can't make your flicker upset, must be good," she winked at him. "But only for a bit."

"Please, Dru," he looked up at her, too tired to really fight off her words. "Don't do anything, just leave well enough alone."

"No tears now, luv," she grinned, "Daddy's shouldn't cry, sets a bad example for the rest of the class. Just going to fix you, give you what you need, need a pretty of your very own. Need to be cared for, like you cared for me." She tilted her head to the side, like she was listening to something. "Oh!" she clapped her hands together, "So pretty."

Spike watched as Dru swayed around him, moving to a rhythm that only she could hear. Then, the words started falling from her mouth, and his blues began to turn to reds.

"'Early one morning,'" she sang, her eyes closing as she danced around the room. "'Just as the sun was rising...'"

As she continued on, Spike's world flew apart. Red and blue mingled, becoming black; and the blackness poured over his thoughts, filling and blotting out the light. Dru had always said that darkness was never truly dark, just like silence was never really silent; Spike guessed she had never been to this place.

The blues and reds slowly surfaced from the blackness, and he tasted the remnants of cold blood and ash on his tongue and lips. Sitting up, a cloud of dust rolled off his soiled clothing, drifting and combining with the dirt on the floor.

The room around him was quiet, and he rolled onto his side, tucking his head under his arms. As he lay there, he slowed his thoughts, relaxed his muscles, and forced himself not to breathe. The silence he was used to, and the blackness was expected. The life he had had with Dru, the one soaked in blues and reds; was in the past. Nothing was red anymore, and the blues had become gray.

"Spike?" his name was spoken, the girl walked in.

Looking out from under his arms, he smiled slightly. The reds and blues were gone, but now his life was bathed in a bright, glowing, green.

~END~