Sweet Dreams




Drusilla curled up, drowsy and replete, her face as white as the linen pillowcase it rested on. The wild-rose flush from feeding had faded as dawn approached and she was ready to sleep. First though – “Spike? I need a story. Can’t go to sleep without a story.”

Spike smiled at her lovingly, possessively. She never asked Angel for a story, he’d wager. That dolt would most likely regale her with tales of slaughter and bloody entrails. Fine fare for a rainy afternoon but to lull his beloved into sweet slumber, something else was required. A lighter touch.

“Once upon a time,” he began. Drusilla’s eyes sparkled and she brought her hands together, patting them in silent applause. “There was a princess with hair like night and eyes of ebony.”

“Like me, Spike?”

“Just like you, pet. This princess was so beautiful that all who saw her were struck dumb –”

“Ooh; they’d had their tongues ripped out then? I like to do that. It makes them hard to understand when they beg but I don’t listen anyway.”

“Umm, no, my sweet, it’s more of a figure of speech. Where was I? All who saw her loved her, but her father was determined that only the best and bravest could claim her hand. No, Dru. It stayed attached to her. Hand in marriage, see?”

“A love story...” Dru sighed ecstatically.

Spike’s eyes kindled and he leaned forward to kiss her, his hand cupping her breast. She pushed him away, wagging a reproving finger. “Story. Spike’s being a naughty man and shall not have a reward.”

He leaned back with a frustrated groan and carried on. “Princes came from all around and fought for the right to claim her. Eventually, there was just one remaining, as bright as the sun, blue-eyed and handsome.”

Drusilla raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Indeed,” she purred. “And what happened then?”

Spike grinned. “He killed the king, ravaged the princess and nicked the crown jewels.”

“Spike! That’s not a proper story. Try again.”

“Nearly sunrise; sure you’re not feeling sleepy? No? The king didn’t want to let go of his daughter, no matter how much of a champion the prince was. So he sent him to a far off part of the kingdom to slay a monster, one who had killed many of his subjects.”

“He didn’t want them to be killed?” Drusilla asked with a frown. “But that’s the fun part. The prince isn’t going to hurt the nice monster is he?”

Spike paused and hastily rewrote the story in his mind. “Uh, the prince found the monster living in a beautiful valley, full of –”

“Corpses?”

“Littered with them, my sweet. Rivers of blood, bones everywhere.”

“Can we go there, Spike? Can we? Miss Edith thinks that would be a delightful excursion.”

“One day, maybe. Anyway, the prince found the monster and they began to fight. He had a sword and he used it to –”

“No hurting the monster!”

“Tickle him on his tummy. This monster had itchy scales, you see.”

Drusilla smiled, her eyelids fluttering down.

“So he and the monster became great friends and he went back to the palace with the prince, the monster ate the king, the prince married his princess and –”

“They all lived happily ever after?”

Spike brushed his lips against her forehead. “For ever and ever.”

Drusilla sighed. “Can I have a monster, Spike? If I’m a princess, I need a monster.”

Spike’s gaze rested on the huddled figure in the corner of the room, throat ripped out, eyes missing. “Angel took care of that, love, a long time ago.”


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