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Halloween Gifts
By spikeNdru, September 7, 2004
Written as part of the Spike/Drusilla Ficathon.
Pairing: Spike/Drusilla, PG-13
The assignment:
Requirements (limit of 3): A book of poetry, a surprise for Dru, and one of the Buffygang - either mentioned in passing or as a major character in the storyRestrictions (limit of 3): no slash, no major character deathGenre: romance, drama, humor or angstTime Setting: First half of season 2, pre-What's My LineWhat rating level you would like the story to be: AnyThanks, as always, to my super-betas makd and denny for the great work, and special thanks to “eagle eye” Painbow for catching the “Von”!
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Spike prowled the night with only a whispering creak of leather to mark his passage. He grinned. Sunnydale was a bit of alright. It was here—he knew it was here; the key to restoring his ripe, wicked plum to health.
Spike shifted into game face and growled. The streetlights caught the golden gleam in his yellow eyes. That filthy bugger had tried to stake his dark princess! Bloody Czechs! A slow, evil smile spread over his demonic face at the memory of his retribution.
A sliver of wood had lodged in Dru’s breast, near enough to the heart to slowly sap her strength, and Spike’s first priority had been to get Dru the hell out of Prague. He’d stashed her in a villa in the countryside, on the far side of the Vitava River, after first doing his bit for intolerance by thinning the ranks of the Velvet Revolution, the previous tenants of the villa. Then he’d gone back to Prague, tracked the Van Helsing wannabe and delivered the bastard to Dru for breakfast—she’d managed to torture him long enough to last through lunch and dinner, too, come to think of it!
Yeah, Sunnydale was the place to be! He could feel the throbbing energy from the Hellmouth and gloried in it. And the fact that Sunny D was protected by a Slayer? Bonus!
A couple of the locals left The Fish Tank and staggered down the street, laughing and holding on to each other. The woman stumbled and fell, as her support was removed.
Bugger! He hated American beer! Spike sighed as he tossed the man aside and, returning to human face, picked up the woman in his arms to take her home to Dru.
Look out, Sunnydale. Here comes Spike!
~*~*~*~*~*~
Spike chuckled to himself. He and Dru had ‘minions’ now! Not a state of affairs he’d have thought of on his own; he and Dru traveled fast, light, and alone. Well, alone-together, that is. But it looked like they’d be stayin’ in the ’dale for a bit, so might as well put the minions to use.
Spike put Dalton in charge of researching Dru’s cure. Bookish, Dalton was. Bit of a tosser, but he actually seemed to enjoy poking around in all those musty old volumes. He’d get the job done. Spike had better things to do with his time than research. He had to shop for Halloween gifts for Dru! ’Course, the very best gift would be the blood of the Slayer, but that would come. In the meantime . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~
It was nearly Halloween. All Hallows Eve. Sort of like a Bank holiday for the undead, Spike thought, with a smirk.
He and Dru had made the holiday their own, over the years, sometimes traveling to exotic locales, sometimes spending it quietly by themselves, and sometimes with a blow-out bash.
There had been that huge party they had thrown in Vienna . . . complete with dancing, gaming and the Vienna Boys Choir for entertainment and dinner. He smiled reminiscently. The boy sopranos had even screamed in harmony. Dru said it was the most beautiful music she had ever heard. Everyone who was anyone had come to that party. Even Darla and Drac had shown up. Spike had beaten the pants off Drac at the faro table, and the poncy bugger still owed him eleven pounds!
This year, though, it would be a private party—just him and Dru. That was fine with him. There were times when you wanted to paint the town red, but sometimes a bloke just wanted a bit of a private celebration with his lady. Time enough for a party when he’d managed to restore Dru’s strength. Didn’t mean things couldn’t be special this year, though—and fun.
Spike tapped the pen against his lower lip as he began to prepare a list of gifts.
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Gift, the first.
“What d’you mean, you don’t have a screwdriver? You were in charge of the bloody tools!”
Lenny searched the battered toolbox again. “There’s no screwdriver, Spike. There’s a set of wrenches and pliers . . .”
Spike’s fist clenched around a handful of Lenny’s shirt.
“Excuse me?” Dalton tugged on the sleeve of Spike’s coat.
Spike swatted his hand away.
Dalton tried again. “E-e-excuse me? Spike?”
Spike glared down at him. “What? Can’t ya see I’m in the middle of chastising this worthless git that was supposed to be in charge of the tools, an’ stop touchin’ m’sleeve. Well?”
“I-I-I beg your pardon, but I t-t-thought you should know. A screwdriver won’t help. You said you wanted a real antique, and it’s put together with pegs.”
Spike scowled at the large, four-poster canopied bed, and then looked back at Dalton.
“Then how do we dismantle the bloody thing?”
Spike, and four of the minions he had inherited from the Annoying One, stood in the restored second floor bedroom of the Sunnydale Historical Society Colonial House. They were in the process of attempting to steal the antique bed. Spike wanted the bed for Dru, and he was determined to have it.
They had crawled one at a time through the basement window and made their way up the narrow pie wedge shaped circular stairs to the second floor. The plan was to take the bed apart and carry it piece by piece to the factory and reassemble it. That didn’t seem to be happening.
“They got the bloody bed up here, we can soddin’ well get it back down!”
“Stubborn, isn’t he?” Marissa whispered to Dalton.
Spike’s lips twitched as he held back a laugh. “I like to think of it as . . . focused.”
“I-I-I didn’t mean . . .” Marissa stammered, ducking her head so her fall of long, platinum hair hid her face, and then began making herself useful by carefully taking down the hand-crocheted canopy hangings. She avoided Spike’s eyes as she folded the quilt and removed the tester and pillows in their crocheted shams.
Spike heaved off the mattress and grinned. “ ‘Light as a feather’ ’s a misnomer, innit? Bloody thing weighs a ton!”
Lenny and Andrew each picked up an end of the feather mattress and began wrestling it down the narrow stairs. With a final glance at Spike, Marissa followed with the bedding.
Spike laughed as he glanced out of the window. His minions were staggering down the street, like zombies on a mission, trying to control the recalcitrant feather bed.
“What we have here, is a failure to cooperate,” he intoned, as the bed seemed to be winning.
With a sigh, he turned back to study the remainder of the bed. No box springs. The mattress had fit into a frame that supported it by an intricate series of criss-crossed ropes. Now, if he could just figure out how the posts were attached. . .
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Gift, the second.
Willow’s eyes flicked rapidly back and forth across the computer monitor. Fascinating! She’d never realized—was that a noise? Some subliminal sound had caught her attention.
She stretched and looked around the library.
“Giles?”
She’d never felt uncomfortable working in the library before. It had become her home away from home, but now there was something different—not right. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.
Where were Xander and Cordelia? Oh, right. Donut run. Although she didn’t understand why it took two of them to pick up coffee and donuts. Buffy was patrolling, but Giles had been right here, in his small office . . .
Willow pushed back her chair and stood. “Giles?” She peeked into the inner sanctum. No Giles.
She turned back to return to her chair, when, instead, she opened her mouth, taking a deep breath to scream.
“Make one sound, lit’le girl, and I’ll gut you like a fish.”
Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, it’s Spike. Spike is standing right here thisclose!
Willow focused her eyes on the black leather, because she really didn’t want to see his face. Her voice was a terrified squeak.
“What do you want, Spike?”
She had to look. He looked human. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Maybe he wouldn’t kill her right this second.
Oh, wait! Is that a good thing? ’Cause with the railroad spikes and the torture and all . . .
“You know who I am. Good. You’re gonna go on the computer for me, an’ maybe I’ll let you live. This time.”
“The computer? I can do that! I’m really good with computers. Uh, what do you want me to do? I’m good with the research and stuff . . .” Willow trailed off as she realized she was babbling. But she was just so nervous. She’d never actually been this close to a vampire before. Not to actually be having a conversation with one, anyway. Oh, well sure, Angel. But that was different.
“Hear they have a kind of swap-meet place where you can buy just about anything.” Spike tilted his head in the direction of the computer.
“A place where you can buy . . . E-Bay! You want me to go on E-Bay for you?”
“Well, yeah. ’M lookin’ for a nice piece of amber. Not just any piece, mind you. Gotta have bugs in it. Makes it special, like.”
“You want me to buy you amber on E-Bay?”
Spike growled. “Just said so, din’t I? An’ no tricks! Or I’ll make you wish I’d already killed you!”
“No tricks! No tricks, I promise. Please don’t kill me! I can do this. See? Going directly to E-Bay. No tricks!”
The next three minutes were the longest in Willow’s life. She finally breathed a sigh of relief.
“Okay. There’s two choices here. Here’s one with a bee and Oh! A dragonfly! Pretty. But—how were you planning to pay for this?”
“Pay?” Spike asked incredulously.
Willow sighed. “The dragonfly is $2500, and I don’t have that much in my Pay-Pal account. But, I think we could just manage the bee . . .”
“Right then. The bee it is. An’ if you tell anyone about this . . .”
“No! No, please! I won’t tell anyone. I promise!”
“Take the secret to your grave, eh?”
Willow shuddered at his wicked smirk.
“Do me right, lit’le girl, an’ I’ll do right by you.”
For some strange reason, she believed him.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Drusilla drifted through the cavernous space of the factory. She was bored. She wanted to go out. Her lips formed a pout. Spike was so often gone. Of course, he’d brought her those lovely presents—the bed, and the amber that felt warm and alive in her hand. If she looked closely, she could see the bee move. She often heard it buzzing, and it was summer and she and her sisters sat on the grass by the lake, the warm sun beating down, and Mummy refused to let her remove her hat. Said the sun would make her complexion all blotchy and freckled and she had such lovely, porcelain skin. Drusilla closed her eyes and swayed as she touched her hand to her cheek. Mummy would spread out the picnic lunch and they’d have tea and honey cakes and the bees buzzed. Trapped. Trapped in amber as she was trapped by her weakness and surrounded by Spike’s protectiveness. The bee talked to her. She could be a bee. Buzzzz, buzzzz, buzzzz. Flitting from flower to flower.
Besides, she hadn’t gotten anything for him. Her dark prince was so good to her, treated her like a queen, he did. She wanted a special Halloween gift for her Spike.
Dru picked up her brush and ran it through her long, dark hair, again and again. Something special . . .
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Gift, the third.
“Drusilla! Dru, baby? Come see what I’ve found for you!”
Spike stashed the portable record player and cardboard box of records—albums, 45’s and even some 78’s—behind a pile of boxes and went looking for his love. Spike frowned. He couldn’t sense her anywhere.
Spike was worried—more worried than he cared to admit. Dru wasn’t rallying. She was slipping away before his very eyes and he bloody well wouldn’t let that happen! She was his world.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Drusilla wafted through the dark streets of Sunnydale, ethereal as mist.
Leaving The Espresso Pump after the Wednesday night poetry reading, Owen Thurman glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye. He slowly turned, afraid she’d disappear if looked at directly.
Swirls of fog, drifting in from the harbor, gave her a wraith-like appearance. She was . . . Ophelia, in a diaphanous white gown with raven-dark hair and wide, haunted eyes. She smiled a secretive smile and turned into the alley.
“Wait!” Owen called. He could not lose her as soon as he’d found her.
He hurried after her.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Spike paced the main floor of the derelict factory in an agony of indecision. He lit a cigarette, sucking the nicotine as deeply into his lungs as was possible. Bloody hell! Where was she? And where were the minions that were supposed to be watching out for her? If anything happened to Dru, heads would roll and this town would burn!
She sometimes forgot where she was. What if she was lost? What if she encountered the Slayer? In her weakened condition, she didn’t stand a chance.
Spike lit another cigarette. Should he go out and look for her? What if she was hurt and needed him, and came home to find him gone? Fuck!
Fuckfuckfuckfucksoddingbloodyhell! He didn’t know what to do!
As he inhaled deeply on the cigarette, he caught a whiff of her scent, and whirled to see Drusilla entering the factory, a delighted smile on her face. He wanted to kiss her and kill her all at the same time. He took an unneeded deep breath, and fought for calmness.
Drusilla glided over to him and stroked his cheek. His anger fled in a rush of relief that she was safe and had returned to him.
“I’ve brought you a present, my Spike. It came with a boy—I’ve already eaten him, but I did bring you this.” She handed him a volume of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. “’Appy ’Alloween, luv.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Spike’s unnecessary breath caught in his throat as he reached the top of the stairs leading from their bedroom. The scratchy strains of the old 45 rpm record filled the cavernous space.
“. . . Take this waltz, take this waltzTake its broken waist in your handThis waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltzWith its very own breath of brandy and DeathDragging its tail in the sea . . .”Swaying with the delicate beauty of a fragile stem of lily-of-the-valley in the spring breeze,Drusilla was attempting to teach Lenny to waltz. He looked like a huge, lumbering oaf,overpowering her sinuous grace. Spike couldn’t bear it.“May I have this dance, m’lady?”Her eyes glowed with liquid fire, reflecting the light from the dozens of candles that made thespace seem smaller, more intimate.“Spike. My dark prince,” she murmured, gliding toward him.Spike extended his left hand, and her right rested upon it with the delicacy of a small bird alighting.Placing his right hand firmly on the small of her back, he swept her into the waltz.“There's an attic where children are playingWhere I've got to lie down with you soonIn a dream of Hungarian lanternsIn the mist of some sweet afternoonAnd I'll see what you've chained to your sorrowAll your sheep and your lilies of snowAy, Ay, Ay, AyTake this waltz, take this waltzWith its "I'll never forget you, you know!"This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz ...And I'll dance with you in ViennaI'll be wearing a river's disguiseThe hyacinth wild on my shoulder,My mouth on the dew of your thighsAnd I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook,With the photographs there, and the mossAnd I'll yield to the flood of your beautyMy cheap violin and my crossAnd you'll carry me down on your dancingTo the pools that you lift on your wristOh my love, Oh my loveTake this waltz, take this waltz,It’s yours now; it’s all that there is.”One hundred and seventeen years, and his body still quickened at her touch. There were timeshe still felt like a gauche schoolboy when confronted with her ethereal beauty and grace. If hisheart beat, it would be bursting with loveand desire for his Black Goddess.Although he wouldn’t have known the meaning of the word, Lenny knew when he was de trop.He edged backwards toward the door, unable to take his eyes off the dancers whirling to thestrains of the waltz, totally focused only on each other.He’d find another lair to hang out in tonight. Bob had mentioned something about an Elviramarathon.“Happy Halloween, Spike,” Lenny whispered, quietly closing the door behind him.~*~ The End ~*~Lyrics from Take this Waltz by Leonard Cohen, which has always seemed like the quintessentialDrusilla song to me. Catatonic1242 made an absolutely wonderful video to this song, which canbe found on the Fanvids Recommendations page.
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