"See, this is what I hate about you vampires. Sex and death and love and pain... it's all the same damn thing to you." - Buffy
Author's note: Fair warning – as we all know, vampires' sex life/family life is complicated (since they're usually one and the same) so this will get slightly icky. (And I know this is moving slowly and there's not much plot in this one either, just character development which will come into play soon. I promise. There WILL be a great big cliffhanger next time.)
Spike sat awake as the sun rose outside the mansion where they'd set up, staring at the bed he supposedly shared with Drusilla. He wanted to just get up and crawl into it – no, actually, he wanted to stand up, walk into the next room and kill them both. But since he still wasn't strong enough to do that, he sat in his wheelchair. After all, if Dru came in and found him in bed, she might wonder just how well his legs were healing. And he couldn't trust her not to tell Angelus.
He couldn't trust her. For 118 years, she'd been his entire unlife. They'd shared everything, he'd done everything to please her. And then HE shows up and it takes her all of five minutes to... He put his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sounds from the other bedroom, but vampire hearing is a powerful sense and he could hear every moan, every squeak, every contact of cold flesh on cold flesh. It seemed to take hours before they were finished and she came back.
As she helped him undress and lifted him into bed, he could smell every place he had touched her – another vampire sense kicking in. Her blood where he had bitten her, right where she liked it – he wondered if she had shown him, or if he had known since before. His essence still dripping down her legs.
She got into bed next to him, exhausted. "You're not cross with me, Spike, are you? It's only Daddy..."
"Of course not, Ducks." He didn't bother to hide the hate in his voice; she wouldn't hear it anyway, she was lost in her own thoughts.
"And he misses her so, hates her so... golden hair, pretty nose, tiny little girl with power to make him whole. When I look in his heart, she's all I see. When he's in me, she's all he wants. Her face, my flesh, her fire, my juices. She gave him life, and he killed her. He dreams her life, her death..."
"What are you talking about... the Slayer? Darla?"
"Two little golden girls he had, and now he has none. Filthy Slayer made him fall in love, made him kill Grandma, made him forget himself. Poor Daddy. He cannot forget... have to keep him... happy..."
He listened to her mumbled words fading away as she fell asleep, hating her. She was lying perfectly still and peaceful right next to him and didn't belong to him. Do it now, Spike. It would be so easy. She's asleep. You keep the stake right under the bed for easy access. Do it, take it, plunge it in the treacherous bitch's heart and be done. But vampires see in the dark, and he could see every line on her face, every curve of her body, that little wicked hint of a smile that was the first he'd seen of her. That he'd seen every night for 118 years. His love, his goddess, his...
"I love you, Dru."
God help him, he meant it. Spike lay back down and pulled her close, wishing he could sleep.