143 Ficlet: The Grave Of A Bird
Nov. 10th, 2009 01:28 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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still_grrrTitle The Grave Of A Bird
Author Ersatz Fiction
Rating R
Word Count 451
Prompt 143: Lie to Me
Characters/Pairing (if any) Spike/Dru
A/N: Title and quote from Pablo Neruda.![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tiger_bri_duck ,you inspired me to write this.
---
"And what has become of it, where
is that
onetime love?
Now it is
the grave of a bird, a drop
of black quartz,
a chunk
of wood eroded by the rain"
Pablo Neruda, “Loves: Terusa (I)”
---
There were many ways for this to end, and Drusilla dreamed them all. Some had running, some had hiding, some had dancing around the mulberry bush. One ended in hell and one in heaven. On in sorrow and two in joy. All of them had her adrift, her lover scorched in sunshine.
She would cut these visions off at the pass; she would strike before the moon could cry. So the night he buried his sickly puppy she waited, until the sun was at its zenith, her darling still with sleep.
The chains looked pretty around his slender writes, like dancers in sliver. Kneeling over his legs, she caressed the notch of his hip and the not so perfectly smooth skin around his manhood. He needed a shave, but there was simply no time.
He was already lost to the Slayer. She knew how this would end.
The smile as he tugged on the chains melted away as he opened his eyes to her.
“Dru…” he warned, rattling the chains so the bed shook.
“Hush. Mummy is very cross with you. The pixie has shown me many things, many horrible things about you and the Slayer.”
“Is this about her not being dead? Dru, I promise you the streets will flow with her blood…”
“Pretty lies,” she snapped. “All you do is dance with her. That is why this ends before the orchestra warms up.” The stake in her right hand is pressed to his heart now.
Even in her weakened state, she held his struggling body down easy. Over his frantic pleading, she whispered, “I already fear the music has started and no one will ask me to dance.”
With a kiss to his cheek and the brush of one black tipped fingernail over his sire scar, she said, “Goodbye my sweet Spike. In my heart, there shall never be another like you.”
She pushed the stake harder and he fell to ash with her name on his lips.
Hours later, she emerged from the bedroom dressed all in black. She snapped impossible orders to the minions and beckoned Dalton forth.
“Yes-s mistress?”
“Prepare the car, pick the cleverest minions and leave the rest. You shall wait for me at the park at the edge of town. We leave at midnight."
Dalton hurried away like a good little minion. Drusilla slipped one of the dragging chains over her shoulder. Still so weak, but all starlight shines on Daddy: he will help her become strong.
Fin
Author Ersatz Fiction
Rating R
Word Count 451
Prompt 143: Lie to Me
Characters/Pairing (if any) Spike/Dru
A/N: Title and quote from Pablo Neruda.
tiger_bri_duck ,you inspired me to write this. ---
"And what has become of it, where
is that
onetime love?
Now it is
the grave of a bird, a drop
of black quartz,
a chunk
of wood eroded by the rain"
Pablo Neruda, “Loves: Terusa (I)”
---
There were many ways for this to end, and Drusilla dreamed them all. Some had running, some had hiding, some had dancing around the mulberry bush. One ended in hell and one in heaven. On in sorrow and two in joy. All of them had her adrift, her lover scorched in sunshine.
She would cut these visions off at the pass; she would strike before the moon could cry. So the night he buried his sickly puppy she waited, until the sun was at its zenith, her darling still with sleep.
The chains looked pretty around his slender writes, like dancers in sliver. Kneeling over his legs, she caressed the notch of his hip and the not so perfectly smooth skin around his manhood. He needed a shave, but there was simply no time.
He was already lost to the Slayer. She knew how this would end.
The smile as he tugged on the chains melted away as he opened his eyes to her.
“Dru…” he warned, rattling the chains so the bed shook.
“Hush. Mummy is very cross with you. The pixie has shown me many things, many horrible things about you and the Slayer.”
“Is this about her not being dead? Dru, I promise you the streets will flow with her blood…”
“Pretty lies,” she snapped. “All you do is dance with her. That is why this ends before the orchestra warms up.” The stake in her right hand is pressed to his heart now.
Even in her weakened state, she held his struggling body down easy. Over his frantic pleading, she whispered, “I already fear the music has started and no one will ask me to dance.”
With a kiss to his cheek and the brush of one black tipped fingernail over his sire scar, she said, “Goodbye my sweet Spike. In my heart, there shall never be another like you.”
She pushed the stake harder and he fell to ash with her name on his lips.
Hours later, she emerged from the bedroom dressed all in black. She snapped impossible orders to the minions and beckoned Dalton forth.
“Yes-s mistress?”
“Prepare the car, pick the cleverest minions and leave the rest. You shall wait for me at the park at the edge of town. We leave at midnight."
Dalton hurried away like a good little minion. Drusilla slipped one of the dragging chains over her shoulder. Still so weak, but all starlight shines on Daddy: he will help her become strong.
Fin
no subject
Date: 2010-01-06 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 07:33 am (UTC)Saving Spike is just one of Dru's motivations, in the end. As to the if she succeeds in saving him, I think depends on one's feelings of Spike's canonical character arc and the movement therein.