Debts VII: Tribe Thing by Te July 1999 Disclaimers: If I owned them, I'd hand over the leash immediately. Spoilers: None. Summary: Redecoration, etc. Ratings Note: NC-17 for language, smut, violence, and imagery some may find disturbing. Acknowledgments: To Rae for continuing to put up with me against all reason *and* audiencing, and to Spike for working me like the cheap slut like I am with her stories. Again. And to Hal for timely word-choice help. And to Dawn Sharon for many helpful suggestions... * When the glitter fades in morning Turn away and you will find my empty eyes Your beauty blinds. * The first thing I did when I finally left Drusilla's home for more than just take-out was to start looking for someplace new. It wasn't that I didn't like the place -- it really did feel like it could become a home for me, too -- it was just... Well, for one thing it fucking *reeked* of a vampire that wasn't us, and therefore had to be her ex. Spike. So obviously he knew the place, and since Dru was sure she hadn't killed him... So I'm out there, and I'm not even trying to figure out whether Dru would go where I'd take her, because that's just way too simple a question. Not because I can answer it, but because... well, I talked with her last night. Or she talked to me while I was going down on her. And I think it's like she's one of those crazy expensive locks they're making now. Not the electronic ones -- the mechanical ones the manufacturers are getting all crazy with to keep people from buying the electronic ones. You can't use just any pick on those things. It'll break off on you, probably set off a few gazillion alarms while it just sits there gumming up the works. I don't want to ask Dru too many questions. I'd rather just do and learn by doing. I know that's probably more likely to fuck things up but... well, it feels right. Dru has too many things coming into her head to worry about the small shit. She hears things. Knows and can do things... She's revising my attitude toward witchcraft hugely. I mean, I knew they couldn't *all* be like Willow but in Sunnydale... it's like they were all gonna try to be like her *anyway*. I never got that. No, I know everyone wants to be a Good Person at least once in their lives. That I understand. It's just those people who aren't built for it but keep *trying* that I don't get. They fuck up, they get punished for it, and then what do they do? Try again. Yeah, I know you're supposed to try, but it's just fucking *stupid* to think that you have to try *everything*. More than once. It's human nature to kick out the ones who don't match. People want to think it's different now, just because we don't *officially* group up people anymore, but I see... I see that all this "different... but the same!" crap has just made it easier for us to find who we *really* belong to. We're all reorganizing our tribes and the only time it sucks is when you can't find yours. Or when your instincts lead you *right* to a tribe member who has decided she's really something *much* different. And better. Huh. If I'd known vampires could be bitter I might have tried to kill them faster, more humanely. I come across one draining some old woman in an alley. It's only then that I realize I've been carrying a stake in my jacket. Well, it's not really my jacket. It smelled like Spike until Dru and I fucked on it a few times... I remember running the sleeves up between her legs and making her slide on it like a stripper. And fuck but she got into it. Ripped the jacket out of my hands and got off that big ass bed and whirled it around her, rubbed and just.... danced. When she spun, her dress would flare out toward me. I'd grab, tear off a scrap, and get this... this flash of her bare legs beneath. Imagine her bare sex. I thought her hair was black on that roof but it's really this brown... The only word I can come up with for it is "rich." Her hair is this thick, silky mass of... I can't. It's red and mahogany and this blond that isn't so much yellow as it is... like the inside of a living tree. Fuck, that's just more wood. I'm bad at this. But I don't care what I say when she's fucking me. Taking me. She's got a fucking strap-on. I wasn't sure whether I was shocked or not, and she didn't give me time to really figure things out, either. She'd had me on my knees, shoulders pressed down into the mattress. The sheets were silk and doing crazy things to my nipples and she had her tongue up my ass and I realize *everything* is like the first time with her, only now I know just how good it's gonna be so I can feel each little wet thrust almost before she does it. And then I have a second where she's gone and then there's something hard and cold against me and before I can think anything else she's slipping in me. Some kind of lube on the thing, too. Then her wrist is pushing up under my face, wet and sticky. She'd ripped herself open to bleed on the dildo for me. I wanna laugh and I wanna scream but all I do is try to keep the wound open while she's fucking me. Fucking the hell out of me... I was screaming by the end. All that came out was "oh god oh yes please Dru" and fuck-drunk shit like that but Dru curled up beside me after and told me what I'd really said. Need, love. Devotion, she said and I think that's the one she liked the best. Told me I shouldn't say things like that if she "wasn't to be my sweet." I turned over and tried to hold her, crush her into me like... like some sort of fruit I could just squeeze everything I needed out of, but she just draped herself in my arms. Like that was exactly the way I should hold her. It took forever before I could make myself release her for long enough to fetch dinner from out of the wardrobe. I'd cleared it of Spike's clothing but it still smelled like him. I figured food storage might fix that. I would've kept some of his things but they were too small for my hips, my breasts... My. It such a joke. Nothing here is mine... or it wasn't, but Drusilla... she makes everything so right. I'm ripping every dress she owns to shreds one at a time. I've got this jacket of her ex-lover's that smells like nothing but the two of us fucking and Spike's burnt clothing and posters. I've got all of these wonderful things and I'm wondering when I start paying for it, but that's a lie, too. I'm not thinking about payment, I just think I *should* be. Because this vampire I'm beating now is no one I know, and he still smells like fucking grave dirt, and the old lady is dead on the ground and there is *nothing* stopping me, or trying to. There's not even the buzz I woke up with. There hasn't been since Dru... since she did whatever she did. There's nothing here but I what I make and what I take. And when I bury the slim metal spike that was in this jacket in the stupid bastard's chest he *still* looks surprised. The blowback feels as good as it ever did. And I slam the old woman, too, before she can do more than snarl up at me. When I get back home I see Dru's been out hunting, too. She smiles up at me with her whole face, her whole body, before turning back to the remains. Cracking, ripping sound and she has removed the lower half of the face entirely. What's left stares up at me. Seems to still be pleading. I close its eyes, hold them there until they stick on drying tears. I wonder if I need silver for this and then I just give up. Lean in and nuzzle Drusilla's face until I almost get lost in the slide and bump of my too many bones against her perfect smoothness. Would she prefer me human-looking? I think the old ones must stop caring after a while. Me, I think I'm stuck with the ridges until at least tomorrow night. I didn't bother hunting for food after my kills, just looked at likely buildings Dru and I might be able to use for our own. I used the spike to scrape X's on the older ones I knew would probably have bomb shelters. After that I just went home to Drusilla, and even though it was fear and insecurity and all that other shit that led me back here so early it still felt *good*. When she smiles it hits me like I'm some kid at the beach for the first time, blindsided by a wave. I remember getting freaked that the waves never stopped moving. I guess I would've been freaked by Dru back then, too. I'm watching the light on her hair again. I'm addicted to it, and this whole scene makes me think of the day the Boss showed me my new apartment and those few moments I thought he'd might stay before he shut down *that* train of thought. Dru... I'm right here with her and I'm still fantasizing about her. I see her before a wall of switches and buttons just setting everything to *on* and beaming... She's pure moonlight and I'd be stupid if I didn't admit how badly I'd needed to get out of the sun before... before any of this. I know and she knows and her brightness is the kind that just reassures me that there's nothing but darkness all around. I look over at her from the mussed up bed and she's got this needle and thread. She's stitching the new body's upper jaw to the old one's lower jaw... it's... it's really pretty disgusting. The old one... well, it's old. I'd been wondering why she hadn't let me clean it up a little more. I guess I started this one, though, so I just watch. It's just bones with a little meat left, but the teeth... There's something so ridiculously human about human teeth. And the lopsided grin Dru's stitching through those bloodless gums is just... "You shouldn't let it grin at you like that," and I don't know where that came from, but it's the sort of sentiment that feels right at the moment. Her response is to frown at her creation for a few moments before jabbing it viciously -- but carefully -- several times with her needle. Then she just goes back to stitching and soon she's done. I don't know what I'm waiting for, really, but when she picks the thing up by the hinged up back and turns the dead grin on me I can't keep myself from shrinking back a little against the headboard. I have a moment to wonder where they found a headboard in *this* neighborhood and then the jaws open. "Faaaaiiiiith...." My skin crawls, but it was Dru's own voice, not... anyone else's. I snort laughter and rummage for something to throw at her but then I see Dru's eyes and they're so blank I want to scream. The jaw opens wide again: "Nothing ever forgets, Faith..." I do scream a little that time and then I'm up and moving, knocking the damned thing to the floor, watching it lose a few teeth. I've got my boot up to stomp it to powder but Dru catches me by the hair and yanks me off balance. "Ah ah ahhh... you mustn't break the prezzies until you break the birthday-girl." I twist out of her grasp and search her face but she's back to herself, I know it inside me. I push her away from the jaw, back to the bed. We're getting out of here *tomorrow*. End. Endnote: Title stolen from "Born To Get Busy" by Cypress Hill, lyrics stolen from "Boys On the Radio" by Hole.