by Lani Lane
Summary: Drusilla's thoughts about Spike.
Do you feel that? The way the wind just struck. That slight chill that just passed over your flesh?
That was what he was like.
A sweet shivering wind that made my flesh grow even colder then it was.
Violently, quickly, he made me move in circles.
Lost, dancing, and deliberate.
He was my prince.
My head would clear for these moments of pure perfection.
His eyes would glow, and I would be safe in the knowledge that they lit up just for me.
Oh, but can things change?
Sometimes the moon does a sweet number on me.
Confusing me so.
Hurting him, cruelly, a sweet whisper.
"But my love, the moon told me so…" I whispered to your silent face.
Silent face with eyes that still brightened the night sky.
Eyes that defied even the moon.
Sometimes, the moon would grow silent, giving me the opportunity to try out your imaginary warmth.
Blissful dancing, spinning, and clustered clarity.
Darkness bottled up for me.
But love, the moon always comes back and she isn't too sweet to you, is she love?
She likes to see a fade in your eyes.
A bit of pain.
Oh dear prince, is it my fault that the moon prefers daddy?
- fin -