Sixes and Sevens
Nov. 28th, 2008 01:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Spike/Drusilla (Drusilla-centric)
Rating: R
Summary: Spike never felt the heat, the flames, that licked at her heels. Hellfire come to snatch her up and place her on the throne.
A?N: A fractured fairytale, based on Hans Christian Andersson's The Princess and The Pea. Inspired by the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fantas_magoria Flash Friday Reptile Boy prompt.
She could feel the weight and press of it inside her. Tripping feet pushed her around the room, a soft wail lodged in her throat. The crackle of the flames, the muted explosions of guns, the shrill screams of the dying spun her around, sent her swaying to the floor.
“Unclean,” she murmured, wiping a hand in front of her eyes. “It crawls, belly down. The snake has found us, sweet.”
“What’d d’you mean, luv?” Spike asked softly.
She tilted her head, shoulders squirming as she tried to escape the heat. Spike never felt the heat, the flames, that licked at her heels. Hellfire come to snatch her up and place her on the throne.
“Queen of the damned,” she told him sadly. “But I’m only a princess, so who shall reign by his side now? Oh but he’s a clever jack, he is, to have his cups and balls so neatly arranged.”
“Who, luv?” Spike asked, staring at her with narrow eyes.
“You’re clever, too.” She smiled slyly. “When I brought you in out the rain, Angelus meant to throw you out. But you showed him your cleverness and he couldn’t refuse you.”
“I couldn’t refuse him, you mean,” Spike said bitterly.
“Sweets to the sweet,” she reminded him, shuddering against the hand that trailed across her cheek. “She won’t have it. I can feel it, under my skin. She’ll feel it, too and send him off to whistle for his supper.”
Drusilla shoved him away. He pressed at her, his fingers finding every bump and bruise on her abraded flesh. Standing, she stumbled her way towards the bed.
“So, something’s got the wrong end of Angelus, has it?” Spike asked, voice gone shrewd and hard. “Can’t imagine himself running into any bother he couldn’t bully his way out of.”
Her head shook, almost rattling off her shoulders. “Spiders,” Drusilla told him. “I can hear them. They gnaw until he’s naught but bones, all hollow.”
“Spiders?” Spike replied skeptically. “Old Gripe and Groan’s got spiders?”
Her eyes flew open almost before the words flew free of his mouth. She felt the press and push of bone and muscle, felt her face shift. Spike stared at her for a moment, then he too brought his demon forward.
The smell always caught her first. Burnt sugar and the sharp bite of lemons stung her nose, tugging at her belly. The whine always followed, some strange bit of need and fear she couldn’t control.
Darla opened the door, staring at them with strange, dead eyes. Drusilla held up a warding hand, fingers twisting in half-remembered gestures of supplication.
“We’re leaving,” Darla snapped. “Be ready at sundown or you can find your own way.”
As she turned to go, Spike asked, “Own way where?”
“To The Master,” Darla replied softly, her back to him. “We’ll seek shelter with him.”
“Can’t imagine Angelus is happy about that,” Spike said, his own voice equally soft.
“He isn’t coming,” Darla informed him flatly. She swept out, the door clicking behind her with a dreadful finality.
Dru stared at the door, the whorls and arches taking her thoughts along their winding paths. She felt Spike touch her, tentatively, a breath of air against her skin. She turned to stare at him from under her lashes.
“Dru,” he asked gravely. “What the bloody hell is going on?”
“The lamb is caught in the blackberry patch,” she said mournfully. “It’s all muddled, Spike.”
“Yeah,” he agreed with sigh. “What’s say we go our own way, pet? You and me, see the world? Don’t fancy a stay underground.”
She nodded, reaching out to catch his chin with the tip of her nail. As the rich scent of his blood washed over her, she felt the last lingering traces of pain and fear slip away. Her Prince, her wicked wicked Spike, and he’d made her better.
She smiled at him, a cruel tilt tipping the corners of her lips. “Time for a bit of fun, my sweet.”
Rating: R
Summary: Spike never felt the heat, the flames, that licked at her heels. Hellfire come to snatch her up and place her on the throne.
A?N: A fractured fairytale, based on Hans Christian Andersson's The Princess and The Pea. Inspired by the
fantas_magoria Flash Friday Reptile Boy prompt.She could feel the weight and press of it inside her. Tripping feet pushed her around the room, a soft wail lodged in her throat. The crackle of the flames, the muted explosions of guns, the shrill screams of the dying spun her around, sent her swaying to the floor.
“Unclean,” she murmured, wiping a hand in front of her eyes. “It crawls, belly down. The snake has found us, sweet.”
“What’d d’you mean, luv?” Spike asked softly.
She tilted her head, shoulders squirming as she tried to escape the heat. Spike never felt the heat, the flames, that licked at her heels. Hellfire come to snatch her up and place her on the throne.
“Queen of the damned,” she told him sadly. “But I’m only a princess, so who shall reign by his side now? Oh but he’s a clever jack, he is, to have his cups and balls so neatly arranged.”
“Who, luv?” Spike asked, staring at her with narrow eyes.
“You’re clever, too.” She smiled slyly. “When I brought you in out the rain, Angelus meant to throw you out. But you showed him your cleverness and he couldn’t refuse you.”
“I couldn’t refuse him, you mean,” Spike said bitterly.
“Sweets to the sweet,” she reminded him, shuddering against the hand that trailed across her cheek. “She won’t have it. I can feel it, under my skin. She’ll feel it, too and send him off to whistle for his supper.”
Drusilla shoved him away. He pressed at her, his fingers finding every bump and bruise on her abraded flesh. Standing, she stumbled her way towards the bed.
“So, something’s got the wrong end of Angelus, has it?” Spike asked, voice gone shrewd and hard. “Can’t imagine himself running into any bother he couldn’t bully his way out of.”
Her head shook, almost rattling off her shoulders. “Spiders,” Drusilla told him. “I can hear them. They gnaw until he’s naught but bones, all hollow.”
“Spiders?” Spike replied skeptically. “Old Gripe and Groan’s got spiders?”
Her eyes flew open almost before the words flew free of his mouth. She felt the press and push of bone and muscle, felt her face shift. Spike stared at her for a moment, then he too brought his demon forward.
The smell always caught her first. Burnt sugar and the sharp bite of lemons stung her nose, tugging at her belly. The whine always followed, some strange bit of need and fear she couldn’t control.
Darla opened the door, staring at them with strange, dead eyes. Drusilla held up a warding hand, fingers twisting in half-remembered gestures of supplication.
“We’re leaving,” Darla snapped. “Be ready at sundown or you can find your own way.”
As she turned to go, Spike asked, “Own way where?”
“To The Master,” Darla replied softly, her back to him. “We’ll seek shelter with him.”
“Can’t imagine Angelus is happy about that,” Spike said, his own voice equally soft.
“He isn’t coming,” Darla informed him flatly. She swept out, the door clicking behind her with a dreadful finality.
Dru stared at the door, the whorls and arches taking her thoughts along their winding paths. She felt Spike touch her, tentatively, a breath of air against her skin. She turned to stare at him from under her lashes.
“Dru,” he asked gravely. “What the bloody hell is going on?”
“The lamb is caught in the blackberry patch,” she said mournfully. “It’s all muddled, Spike.”
“Yeah,” he agreed with sigh. “What’s say we go our own way, pet? You and me, see the world? Don’t fancy a stay underground.”
She nodded, reaching out to catch his chin with the tip of her nail. As the rich scent of his blood washed over her, she felt the last lingering traces of pain and fear slip away. Her Prince, her wicked wicked Spike, and he’d made her better.
She smiled at him, a cruel tilt tipping the corners of her lips. “Time for a bit of fun, my sweet.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2008-11-28 09:55 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-12-04 03:49 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-28 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-12-04 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-28 03:13 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-12-04 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-28 04:12 pm (UTC)Surreal little episode. Great Dru.
no subject
on 2008-12-04 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-28 04:20 pm (UTC)xxx
no subject
on 2008-12-04 03:52 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-28 05:54 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-12-04 03:52 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-29 01:51 am (UTC)“Queen of the damned,” she told him sadly. “But I’m only a princess, so who shall reign by his side now? Oh but he’s a clever jack, he is, to have his cups and balls so neatly arranged.”
Perfect Drusilla.
no subject
on 2008-12-04 03:53 am (UTC)