"Spike..." Her voice was soft, hesitant, and held a hint of wariness. He didn't turn around, only acknowledging her presence with a slight nod. For a long moment, they both held still, and he was suddenly desperately frightened that she had left him there. His hands clenched against his thighs, and his head tilted back. The stars were so bright that his vision blurred.
She sat next to him, her warmth reaching out towards him across the distance that separated them. "Talk to me, Spike..." she murmured. Her hand shifted, reaching out towards him, only to withdraw. She wanted to hear, and was afraid of what his words would mean to them. She wanted to reach out, and was afraid that her gesture would be rebuffed.
"I know that you don't like hearing about Drusilla, luv," Spike said harshly, his voice thick with emotions. He didn't look at her, didn't dare watch the emotions laid bare on her face.
"You need to talk. I'm willing to listen. That's what... friends do." The slight hesitation that marked her words spoke volumes about the uncertainty she felt. He had come back, to _her_, and she had allowed herself to think that it meant something special. Despite that, she couldn't deny what Spike felt for Drusilla. It had been there, clear on his face, when Drusilla had slipped back into the shadows.
He knew Willow was hurting, but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed this. "Over a century and she still manages to make me weak inside," Spike said, his eyes latching onto the stars. "My Dark Goddess always loved the stars. Talked to them, sang to them... She couldn't be touched by the light of the sun, so she danced beneath the light of a thousand stars..."
"She was so gorgeous at night, her eyes glittering, playful and deadly in one hell of a beautiful package. I would just look at her and want nothing more than to take her into my arms and stroke every inch of her until she screamed."
Willow flushed at his side but remained silent. She rubbed at her stinging eyes before following Spike's eyes upwards. She hunched over her knees, her chin propped in cupped hands. Her dark curtain of red hair fell across her face, obscuring Spike's rapturous face from her sight. She would listen, but there was no way that she would watch the passion he held for Drusilla played out across his face.
"She was _perfection_. Beauty and grace and the daintiest eater I've ever seen..." Spike grinned reminiscently before his words trailed off.
"What happened to her? I mean, that star on her neck. You and Angel both know what it means," Willow said when she finally found enough control to speak. She was ashamed to admit, even if only within the deepest depths of her own mind, that she hoped that Buffy would stake the looney bitch.
Go and come back, go and back again. The vampiress seemed unable to make up her disjointed mind about exactly what she wanted, and her indecision was turning Willow's world around with alarming frequency.
The softness in Spike's eyes slid away, leaving the bright orbs hard and cold. "Sidhri," he said shortly. His eyes pulled away from the heavens and he glared at the pavement. "She gave herself to a _Sidhri_," a sneer marred Spike's features as he pronounced the unfamiliar word.
"What does that mean?" Willow questioned. 'Let it mean that she'll go away again and _stay gone_.' She flinched at that uncharitable thought, glad that Spike was looking everywhere but towards her. Willow was wildly confused by her emotional swings when it came to Drusilla. She hated her and pitied her, the feelings shifting back and forth unpredictably. The hatred was especially frightening. She had forgiven Angel for what he had done, she had accepted Spike's darkness... why could she not find it within herself to understand Drusilla's actions?
It couldn't just be because of Spike, could it? She had loved Xander with all of her heart for as long as she could remember, but even when he had bypassed her for someone else, she had never felt such deep dislike for the other girl.
Maybe... _maybe_, that was because she had always known that no matter what would happen, she would always have Xander in her life. She was as much a part of him as he was of her. It was different with Spike. Drusilla was to him what Xander was to her. They had shared things that Willow could never hope to be a part of. She bit her quivering lip furiously.
"The Sidhri are demons, luv. Bloody cowardly ones, at that. Instead of fighting on their own, they put their mark on others and work through them... Why'd you do it, baby?" His words ended on a low roar as Spike surged to his feet. Game face sliding into place, Spike's clenched hands pounded against the iron rail of the stairs on which they had been siting.
Willow pulled back at the show of enraged violence, wincing at the sound of his flesh hitting against the metal. "Spike?" He didn't listen, his fists still pounding furiously, incoherent snarls breaking past his curled lips.
When the surging rage inside him had waned, the first sound that drew Spike's attention was Willow's soft sobs. His chest heaving with unneeded gasps of air, he turned towards her, slowly and deliberately. She was _crying_? What did she have to cry about? It was his pet who was nothing more than a puppet, dancing to the whims of another creature. It was _his_ undead heart that was being torn apart in his chest. How dare _she_ cry.
Her head lifted slowly, and she peered at him through red rimmed, watery eyes. "You're bleeding," she sniffled, her body unfurling. She rose to her feet, an awkward girl-woman with haunted, caring eyes. Willow shuffled forward uneasily, her hand reaching out to grasp at his. She hesitated, waiting for a warning growl, and when none came, her skin finally brushed against his torn flesh.
"I'm sorry, Spike. I'm so sorry. Nobody should have to go through this, not you, not her. We'll figure something out. I swear."
Spike looked at her incredulously. "'We'll figure something out'?" He leaned forward, his strong hands clamping down on her shoulders painfully. "You bloody little fool! There is nothing to figure out! Once a Sidhri sinks it's claws into someone, they're _never_ free again!" He pushed her away roughly, ignoring her startled yelp as she nearly stumbled.
He turned, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his coat. Shoulders slumped forward, head bowed, he moved away from her, not once looking back.
Willow's heart was pounding painfully, her throat tight and her eyes burning with renewed tears. As Spike's form slipped into the darkness, she tore the ring from her hand and threw it after him with an inarticulate scream.
The only sound that met her furious display was the hollow clinking of her ring against the pavement. Biting her lower lip savagely, Willow turned back towards the school, the ring untouched.
~End~