Black, black, black.

Pleasant soothing blackness. I can't hear anything, I can't see anything...I inhale, and a musky rose scent fills my nostrils. I open my eyes and lean forward, running my tongue over Drusilla's soft, soft cunt. Her fingers tighten in my hair and her inner thighs flex, and I smile smugly, nudging the hood of her clitoris with my tongue. Two seconds later, she comes hard, squeezing the sides of my face until I see sparkles in front of my eyes.

She relaxes and I come up for air, looking up the length of her pale corpse into her flushed face. Corpse...she's cold and pale and dead...for one split second, I see her in his arms again, her dark hair flowing over his shoulders, starkly contrasting with his white blonde.

Those thoughts fly away as she draws me up to her, resting her head on top of mine. "Lovely, lovely little girl," she whispers into my hair, and I close my eyes, feeling safe and sheltered as goosebumps prickle up and down my arms.

"218." The manager hands me the key and I leave the tiny stuffy lobby. The humidity wraps around me like blanket as I go out. Standing blankly on the sidewalk, I realize that I've forgotten the number. So quickly...

The guy gives me a strange look when I ask again, but it's not my fault I can't remember...I write it down on my hand so I don't forget and head out to the car.

The sun's almost finished setting as I pop the trunk on our shitty car. I smile as I look down at my sleeping girl, then scoop her up and run inside as quickly as I can, making sure the last few rays of sunlight don't touch her. I lay her down gently on the bed and sit beside her, tracing her ribs with a finger. I'm counting them when she wakes up.

"Faith," she whispers in that little baby doll voice that sends shivers down my spine, "I want to go out dancing tonight."

Dancing...the word triggers a memory inside my head...about a month after we first met up, we were at some bar...I can't even remember where, just some nameless bar with a song Drusilla had liked as we walked by it. She started swaying on the sidewalk, then drifted into the smoke and darkness of the little dive, completely unaware of the gaping stares of the patrons.

I followed her in, with my best sneer plastered across my face. When you're the "boyfriend", you have to look out for your girl.

I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching her, the sway of her hips, the graceful rise and fall of her arms. And it's for me, all of it. There's no else on the dance floor-hell, there isn't a dance floor-but she's dancing, all pale skin and dark hair and blood red lips.

I slide off the bar stool and onto the floor, a little awkward in my boots. But she's calling me, and I have to go to her. I have to wrap my arms around her back and pull her close, letting her sway against me. I'm sure every cock in the place is hard now at the sight of us, but I don't care. If anything, it makes it better, the thought of fucking everyone's mind. Damp hot moisture surges between my legs as I imagine what they're thinking. Two girls, entwined, the brunette between the blonde one's legs...no, wrong.

I kiss the side of her neck and unwrap myself from her. "I'm going to get a drink." She nods, her eyes still closed.

God, I thought she was supposed to keep me cool. I can't stop from grinning as I head to the bar, but then someone gets in my way.

"Hey, baby...you and that girl really put on a show. What's your name?" Fuck, do all drunken lechs look alike?

I lean forward, letting my tongue trace my lower lip and making sure he gets a good view of my cleavage. "Lick. Me," I say slowly, enunciating every syllable. "Fuck off," I growl and move to brush past him, but he grabs me around the arm with surprising strength. Vamp? No, not the right feel, just drunk, fucked up, brute 'I'm a man' strength. "Get your hands off me."

He laughs and pulls me up against him, and I'm about to show him just why you don't mess with this particular girl, when suddenly he drops to the ground clutching his neck. Dru smiles from behind, licking her nails.

"He doesn't get to touch you, precious. You're mine." I look down at the man on the floor and I realize he's not breathing. Oh shit. Drusilla just steps him over and gently pushes me toward the exit. We fall out into the night air and she runs down the street, giggling, her face open and happy. I catch her and press her up against a building, kissing her recklessly. She pushes me away, laughing cruelly. Her lipstick covers the lower half of her face, smeared, sticky red..

snap "Of course."

"I had a vision...while I was sleeping." My throat clenches at the thought of her in pain, holding her stomach in the trunk as I drove on blissfully unaware.

"What did you see?"

"An pale rider on a black horse...like Death...coming to visit us." She rises gracefully from the bed, takes my face in her hands, and gently kisses me on the forehead. "A familiar death...an old lover."

"No." I say harshly. "I'll kill her, that fucking bitch." Drusilla just smiles, that knowing smile I've come to hate.

She's still wearing it at the club, and her dancing is different, more raw. It's not for me, it's taunting me. She's provoking me deliberately and I can't fucking deal with it with my head messed up like this. I storm into the bathroom, splashing water on my face.

All right, Faith. Suck it the hell up.

I take a deep breath and walk back into the main area of the club. It takes a minute to adjust, but I finally pick her out of the crowd. Her back is to me, and I head towards her. I reach her just as the song ends and I realise she's dancing with someone...probably another victim. But he chooses that moment to lift his head, and I realise I'd completely misunderstood her vision. An old lover, pale, familiar death on a black horse. And how could I have possibly thought that was Buffy?