Chapter Five

"Destroying the Gulch"

Most of the blood on his hands was not his own. In fact, he was pretty sure none of it was. But, he scrubbed away at the thick layers like they were going to eat away at his hands until there was nothing left but bone.

"Your colors are old gone. Washed away." Drusilla said sharply from the doorway of the oversized washroom. Spike shut his eyes and shook his head.

"Don't know what you mean, pet." he said softly, scraping his fingernails over the tops of his knuckles. Drusilla sighed and padded softly up beside him. He looked up into the mirror, only to stare at the bare blank wall behind him. With a sad sigh, he turned off the scolding water and dried his hands on a towel beside the sink.

"Look...Dru..." he took her by the shoulders as if he was going to kiss her. But, something flashed across his face and thought better of it. He was feeling something, but he couldn't place it. It was eating away at him, like a disease. But, Dru told him he could never ever get sick. He was immortal. He was born to kill.

"Why are you frightened?" Dru asked, still leaning against the washroom door. Spike turned to face her as he picked up his shirt from the bed.

"What?"

"You're scared, Spike. What are you afraid of?" she asked, cocking her head and taking a few steps forward.

"Scared?" he asked, horrified. He shook his head and set his jaw. "I'm not...I'm not scared of anything." he growled through clenched teeth.

Dru giggled and swayed lightly on her feet. "Little lies on your tongue." she whispered, bringing a finger to her lips.

"I'm not afraid, Dru." he tried, his anger bubbling inside like a boiling kettle. Dru laughed harder, still swinging her slight hips. Spike suddenly vamped out and lunged at her, throwing her against the wall.

"That's more like it." she whispered, showing him her throat. Spike breathed in and out heavily, his eyes burning into the flesh at the top of her shoulder. He still felt it. He still felt as if he had done something horrible. But, the demon muted it. The demon masked the emotions he wasn't supposed to feel. But he knew they were still there. And so did Dru. What's wrong with me...?

Nothing, you prat. Go kill something. a small voice told him. He smiled and let his features wander closer to Drusilla's wonderful neck.

"Not afraid..." he breathed, trying to convince himself the feelings weren't real. "I'm a killer..." he said, again to himself. Dru nodded slowly. Bloody right you are. The voice replied.

"My killer." Dru hissed.