Lily looked up as Spike walked slowly into the conservatory. The glass room--a death trap during the day--was filled with night blooming and perfume producing flowers--a winter garden of white. Snipping another white rose and lifting it to her nose, Lily felt her heart sink. Ten minutes earlier the phone had rang and a bad feeling had filled her.
Spike sank down onto a bench, staring into the burbling fountain, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world were upon them.
Lily knelt beside him, resting her cheek on his denim covered thigh. "Tell me."
His hand ran over her head and down her neck to her bare shoulder, his fingers catching the thin strap of her sun dress. "She's dying," he finally murmured. "Dalton thinks...she won't see the sun rise tomorrow."
Raising her head, Lily saw the pain on her lover's face, the tears in his expressive eyes. "Go to her," she urged gently. "She needs you."
One trembling hand cupped her chin and Lily gave him a tremulous smile. Leaning down, Spike brushed her lips with his, then nodded and rose to his feet, heading quickly back into the house.
Lily rose gracefully and walked over to the portable phone laying on a wicker table. She entered a code and put the phone to her ear. "Angel...it's Lily..."
*****
Spike knocked on the door and it was quickly answered by an elderly man. "John, is she...?" He couldn't finish the question to Dalton's long-time butler.
John shook his head, stepping back to allow Spike to enter. "Master Dalton is waiting for you upstairs.
Taking the steps two at a time, Spike quickly found himself at the door to the suite he'd visited faithfully once a week for the last two years. Now...he was truly frightened to enter those rooms.
Slowly he forced himself to turn the knob and step into the sitting room. Blindly crossing the elegant room, he walked into the bedroom and came to a dead stop ten feet from the lace covered bed.
Rose scented candles burned on every surface and the familiar scent brought fresh tears to his eyes. Blinking them back, Spike focused on the figure laying so still on the bed. He was only dimly aware of Dalton slipping past him, closing the door behind him as he left the bedroom.
She was so...fragile looking. Pale, of course--not a hint of color in her cheeks. Dark lashes brushed those cheeks. Her eyes were closed, the lids nearly translucent. Her lips were pale, not their usual vibrant red.
She was thinner, thinner than he'd ever seen her, as if the blood was leeching out of her and taking with it the very fibers of her being.
Her lips parted, her eyelids fluttered...and Spike drew an unnecessary breath. "Spike?"
He was at her side immediately, sinking onto the bed carefully, not wanting to jar her frail body. She wore a simple white cotton nightgown. It covered skin of nearly the same color, making her look ghostly in the dim light of the candles and the one lamp.
Taking her hand, Spike brushed his lips across her forehead. "I'm here, Drusilla."
Drusilla's eyes opened and she looked up at him. Even there the color was fading, the once lustrous brown now a dull tan. As she focused on him, a small smile formed around her lips. "You came."
"I promised I would."
"I remember. I said, 'Be there when I die. I want to die in your arms. You still care...' and you said..."
Spike continued, the promise he had made her indelibly burned into his mind, "'Yes, I do still care, Dru, and I'll be there, I promise'." He lifted one pale, limp hand to his lips and kissed her palm. Drusilla smiled.
"I've missed you, my Spike."
"I was here just four days ago, pet."
Her hand squeezed his--it was a feeble squeeze but it sent shivers through him. "But your heart belongs to her." There was no bitterness left in her voice, only sorrow. "Spike?"
"Yes, luv?"
"The stars are fading behind my eyes." She blinked and Spike looked into her eyes, seeing the cloudiness covering them. His hand tightened on hers as he felt his heart's need to pound in fear. "Will you lay with me and hold me? I'm so cold."
Kicking off his shoes, Spike slid down on the bed next to her, carefully wrapping her in his strong arms, turning her so that her head was pillowed on his chest. She WAS cold, unnaturally cold, and Spike tightened his hold, wanting to warm her, wanting to bring her one more night of life.
Drusilla's eyes drooped shut and her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. "Spike, do you remember the summer we spent in Barcelona?"
*****
They talked for nearly three hours, taking short breaks every now and then to just lay quietly. Drusilla talked of the past, of the happy times they had shared after Angel's departure, never once mentioning their sire, never once mentioning Sunnydale.
"...and we danced all night in the rain in Trafalgar Square. Remember? We let the musicians live because their music was so haunting."
"I didn't think we'd ever be dry," Spike responded, smiling at the memory of how their rain-slicked bodies had come together in the catacombs of St. Martin's in the Field as the sun rose above the square, drying the pavement and the statues and the pigeons, but not the vampires hidden in the darkness, making love for hours, never drying in the dampness of the crypt.
Drusilla fell silent, her fingers stroking his chest through his thin shirt.
"Pet?"
"My body is tired, Spike, so very tired."
"I know, Dru, I know," he soothed, feeling the tears prickling behind his closed eyes as his hands caressed her trembling shoulders and back.
"The priests told us about Hell," she whispered. "Told us of the horrors and the pain, the eternal suffering. Do you think I'll enjoy it?"
"We're demons, luv. Hell is our true home." At that moment, Spike had never felt less like a demon, and Hell terrified him. He had never subscribed to Lily and Drusilla's beliefs, the Christianity that had been ingrained in them had never been real for him. Drusilla's demon had cast most of that out, but the body still remembered. Churches and religious icons had always been very painful for her, had caused her great fear.
Lily believed in Heaven, and to believe in Heaven, she had to believe in Hell. She believed herself damned. For her, Hell would be eternal torment.
But, for Drusilla? The demon in Drusilla would thrive there. The body would disintegrate.
And, Spike truly believed that her soul had long been in Heaven. Even a non-believer like him knew that.
"Can I be a princess there?" Drusilla asked, her voice taking on a wispy quality that frightened him in its weakness.
"You can be whatever you want, luv. You'll be strong and powerful again. Wicked and beautiful..."
"...Beautiful..."
*****
Shortly after two in the morning the door to the bedroom opened and a figure in black stepped inside the room.
Angel.
He walked silently towards the bed and Spike nodded a greeting. The two males would never be totally comfortable around each other, but they had long ago formed an uneasy truce.
As if sensing his presence, Drusilla, who had been silent for nearly an hour, opened her eyes and smiled. "My Angel..."
Pulling up a chair next to the bed, Angel sat and reached across Spike for Drusilla's hand, his strong fingers caressing the fragile flesh. "Drusilla..."
"You came to say goodbye?"
He nodded, his eyes filled with sorrow. Spike watched his sire carefully, noting the true emotions in his deep eyes. He did care for her, whether his caring was driven by guilt or not, Spike didn't really want to know.
If Angel's presence gave Drusilla a few moments of happiness, that was all that mattered.
"I'm dying," she said bluntly.
Angel nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes."
"Because of love...We were never meant to love." Her voice drifted off and her eyes fell shut again. "Demons who love...we're...wrong."
"No, pet, we're not," Spike replied. "Love is never wrong."
"I loved you both...and I lost you both. Will you miss me?"
"Always," Spike swore.
"Yes, Dru, I'll miss you," Angel promised.
"Good. My beautiful savior, my William...and my beautiful Angel of death," she murmured, her hand slipping from Angel's.
"Dru," Spike cried sharply.
"I'm so tired, Spike...and I can't feel you anymore."
"I'm here, luv. I'm not leaving," Spike choked out, holding her closer.
"...Daddy, I'm so cold." She was shivering, cold from the inside.
Slipping around the bed, Angel crawled up behind her and spooned against her, wrapping his arms around her, too. "Can you feel me, Dru?"
"...A bit. It's like old times...good times..."
"Yes," both men replied, in voices deep with emotion.
"I'm not scared..."
"I'm...happy..." And there was a strange joy in her weak voice as she made one whimper, almost like a sigh...
And dust filtered down, coating both males and mingling with their tears.
*****
Lily stared into the fountain, watching the water fall onto the smooth stones, her mind blessedly empty after hours of worrying and what-ifs.
Drusilla was dying. Lily...couldn't be sorry about that.
But, she knew how much it hurt Spike, how he blamed himself for Drusilla's condition. How...he still cared so very deeply for her.
A sound came from the doorway behind her but she didn't turn.
"The sun's rising, luv."
"I know. I can feel it." Rising to her feet, she turned to face her lover. She had prepared herself for anger, pain, grief, guilt, self-hatred...not peace.
Spike held out one hand and Lily drifted over to him, taking it tightly.
"Is she...?"
He nodded sadly and pulled her into his arms. "Hold me, luv and don't ever let me go."
Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him as he lifted her to carry her away from the rising sun to the safety of their darkened bedroom. "Never," she swore fiercely. "I'll never let you go."
Spike nodded in acceptance, in relief, in love, and he stopped in the middle of the foyer to kiss her tenderly. Lily felt his tears wetting her cheeks and her own spilled forth in sympathy for his pain and loss.
They clutched each other tightly, needing to feel the other's love, needing to know that the other would be there forever. In the midst of death, they needed to live.
Tears falling freely, Spike carried his lover up the stairs, listening to her murmur his name over and over, the love resonating in her husky voice. Too choked with emotion to respond, he set her on her feet next to the bed and clung to her like a child, his head sliding down to her breast.
Lily stroked his hair and murmured, "Cry, my love, just cry. It will be alright..."