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Snow coated her vision, little specks of white amidst the dark. Except it wasn’t snow, not really. She didn’t remember snow making everything feel fuzzed, as if on the verge of sleep without the tiredness. Little fuzzies floating by, so pretty, so calming- always keeping her safe, always shielding her from herself, from the him that has conjured itself in her mind.
A figure emerges from the snow, gently holding her face. Ink and blood and snow hands, ink spilling, sounds so far away until the snow hands are on her face.
“You alright, pet?”
She stirs, feeling slightly less fuzzed. Smiles, tries to say words. She knows it comes out disjointed- it always does, always has since everything fractured. So frustrating , every time. He must think her simple. She tries to pick the pieces, tries to fix it. Spike helps- her Spike, her Knight who saves her from herself. He moves her gently, lays her head on his lap on their bed. Strokes her hair, murmurs soft nothings to her- something to listen to, something to focus on, something to keep her here.
Drusilla fiddles with the hem of Spike’s jacket of ink- soft, then crunches as it moves. She looks up at her love, moving her hand up to his head, cupping his cheek. He subconsciously leans into it, humming. Her thumb runs over his lips, and he kisses it. He loves her, and she’s glad for it. Easier to have a guardian when they respect you, even- no, especially when you’re weakened.
Spike leans down, kisses her cheek, then her lips. She smiles into it, kisses back softly. Lays back in his lap, head facing his stomach now. She wishes she could give Spike her thoughts, let him hear the words inside her head rather than the ones coming from her mouth. Broken, disjointed things, fractures that come out of her mouth, falling to the floor. The inside words are so much more pleasant- they don’t stab, don’t hurt to use. Soft, like feathers floating down. She wonders if the words are sharp now because she herself fractured. She’s never been the most communicative even Before, but at least then the words didn’t have edges.
“Luv?”
The snow fades again- she hadn't realized she had gotten lost. She smiles, says something about how pretty he looks from down there. He gives a silly wink, smiles back, makes a dirty joke. She laughs, her laughter sounding like bells to her. She wishes she was a bell. Bells were so pretty, and always did their job very well, which was to sound nice.
“Chop chop chop,” She mutters, now having moved a hand under her lover’s shirt and tracing designs on his skin.
Her knight hums in response- raised, as though a question.
“Chopping after the bells- shall I be chopped? Spike?” She looks up at him, eyes filled with worry.
“No, never. I swear it upon my shitty undead life. And, if anyone does try to, however stupid of an idea that is-“
Spike moves a hand on her spine, running up the length with a nail and making her shudder and giggle.
“They’ll have to go through both of us. Cuz what are we without the other, mm?”
The girl trapped in her mind smiles, reaching up with surprising speed to grab his face, kissing him solidly on the lips, her nails drawing blood from his cheeks. He smiles eagerly, returning the kiss and holding her back up with an arm, letting the rest of the world fall away for them both.