Whenever she saw fireworks, Dru wanted sparklers, those little fireballs that shot off vamp-killing sparks. He tried to keep her away from major celebrations, but it was hard to keep track of what country would be doing what when.

"They're like little suns. I never get to see the sun anymore, Spike."

"And they're just as dangerous as the sun, pet." He took the sparkler away and tossed it to the ground. When she started to whine, he tried to placate her. "How about a nice toddler, one who's been out in the sun all day? You can drink down the sunshine."

"I don't want sunshine. It gets caught in my gullet and makes my eyes bleed." She started scratching at her face, her sharp nails cutting into the skin.

Spike grabbed her wrists, pushed her arms down, and drew her in close, shushing her as she whimpered against him. "You're all right, pet. Everything's fine, my love."

As three children, each carrying sparklers, ran by, Dru followed with her eyes. "Oh so pretty. May I have them please?"

"Dru," he said, the reprimand clear in his voice. "You know they'll burn you."

"Not the shiny suns, I want the little ones. Please?"

"All right." Spike let her go. "But you leave those little firebombs alone, got me?"

"Of course, my Spike."

As she chased after the children, Spike followed behind. No matter how many promises she made, he didn't trust her word. He knew she couldn't resist the sparklers.