Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

The hurt was gone from his eyes, but Drusilla knew it was still there. She couldn't bear that and would do anything to make Spike trust her, to make him belong to her completely again.

The screaming bridge was suddenly eerily quiet, then began a new, more mournful dirge. Drusilla pulled away from Spike and listened.

"Do you hear it, Spike?" she asked as she began to spin in a delicate pirouette. "They're singing our song, the heads are."

She watched him as she danced. Spike did not seem as enthralled by the song as she, but Drusilla suspected there were often times her man did not quite see things the way she did. She was just about to call to him, to promise on the stars above that had grown plump with blood, that she would be forever his when a voice called her name.

"Drusilla," said a sibilant whisper in her ear.

She stopped her dance and turned to peer into the shadows of an alcove away from the river.