Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Buffy, this is only profitless fanfiction. Please don't sue.

She had been searching.

Candle clutched delicately in one hand, the other tore through the bookshelf in the pitch darkness, only illuminated by the flame. Her body, her mind. All were pieces to a puzzle she had yet to put together – had yet to figure out. Angelus' torture only made that imagination bury her, suffocating Drusilla's meaning rather than revealing it. How was she supposed to see her soul with all this helpless dribble?

Cold fingers touched her shoulder - only they never felt so warm. Many nights had this flesh seen passion beyond description, melded with her own thoughts and existence. She loved them for it, as did the person they belonged to, Spike. His breath brushed her cheek as he gaped upon her.

"Drusilla, what are you up to?" He asked, husky voice smoldering her insides.

She told him that she was searching, not at all a lie. She hated not seeing what went on beyond her crystalline walls of quiet reflection. A hunger for knowledge singed her mind as she tore through the novels, page after page flipping from her painted fingernails. Where was she? Spike seemed to know, yet she knew he didn't. Dru' was caught in the land of in-between and she hated it's contingency.

A trail of wax dripped from the candle top, slinking down it's milky base.

He bid her back to bed. Placing a light grip on his beloved's shoulder, sleep wore away at the edges of his coherency as he tried to lure her away from the bookcase. How beautiful she was, William could see this through even his sleep worn eyes and partial consciousness. He knew she saw him the same way, at least she would have if her eyes weren't glued to the annals. Even her second sight was polluted with insanity.

"I need to know where I am," pleaded the femora, intently searching for an unknown destination. Ignorance is a blade you're not aware of until it kills you.

His fingers slipped down her back, pressing the lace against her ivory skin. The longing to have her sleep at his side was unbearable. Spike told her that the only place she needed to be was in his arms, and she turned to him with a knowing smile. Dru knew he was right.

The wax made it's way down her grasp, heat tickling like butterfly wings. Drusilla didn't even notice, the potency of their love dwarfing the feeling of temperature by far.

Luscious kisses met her lips as the darkness cloaked the couple, wax dripping on the mountain of pages below. Passion burned it's way through the couple's hearts, and there was nothing anyone could do as it melted them together. Who could steer loves course, even in the middle of the night? Love is not obedient, but rather possessive as a most pleasurable host. Untamable. Irreversible. Crickets chirped beyond the stone walls yet neither seemed to care, lost in eachother's touch.

The candle clattered to the floor, their fire growing with passion as the wick was extinguished. No more searching, she found what she was looking for, Drusilla knew where she belonged. Right there in Spike's arms, breathing in the darkness like there was nothing else, believing in madness like an oath of sanctity, existing in one realm as well as her own.

And rejoicing in their eternal love, even if just one more time ...