Disclaimer: None of it's mine. Spike and Dru are Joss Whedon's. The song belongs to the Grateful Dead, or whoever currently has rights to their music.
"Lady finger, dipped in moonlight, writing 'What for?' across the morning sky. Sunlight splatters, dawn with answer, darkness shrugs and bids the day goodbye," she pauses for a moment, solely for dramatic effect, and then, "Speeding arrow, sharp and narrow, what a lot of fleeting matters you have spurned."
"That's enough, pet," He says soothingly, stroking her hair, "We wouldn't want to disturb the people."
"They need disturbing," She protests, "Look at their eyes, all red and sorry. Like they haven't slept in days. So dazed and lost. They wouldn't notice if all the stars fell out of the sky. And that would be dreadful!"
"They're Flower people, Dru. Bloody Hippies. They're all high, the whole lot of them. You see that one over there-"
He breaks off and points to a girl waving her arms. She is positively giddy, and her arms are up over her head. Like everyone else, she is swaying back and forth, but she is out of synch with the rest of the crowd. She is singing at the top of her lungs, and throwing flowers into the air.
He grins. She inspires a sense of familiarity.
"Do you see her, luv?" He asks again, wrapping his arms around his companion.
"What do you think, then?"
She ponders a moment, watching the girl, and then turns to him and says, "Easy."
He grins, and grabs her hand, pulling her through the throng of people, over to the girl. They stop directly behind her. Dru giggles, and reaches out for her, but he grabs her hand to stop her.
"Not fair!" She says, "I'm hungry! And you promised."
"In due time, pet," He says, "But it's finders keepers, yeah?"
Dru crosses her arms and turns away from him, pouting. He chuckles, and then changes his face, and feeds. He drains her, and then, when he is finished, finds someone else for Dru.
"Are you finished, duck," He asks after a moment, feeling slightly woozy.
"Don't rush, prince," She replies, "It'll all wait for you."
"Right, yeah." Is all he has time to reply before he collapses on the ground. The world starts to spin before his eyes, all sorts of different colors. In an attempt to move, he raises his hand up, but gets distracted by the movement of his fingers.
Above, Dru happily sings, "What a lot of fleeting matters you have spurned. Several seasons with their treasons, wrap the babe in scarlet colors, call it your own. Did he doubt or did he try? Answers aplenty in the bye and bye. Talk about your plenty; talk about your ills. One man gathers what another man spills."
A/N: Don't forget to review!