The Game 24

Edited by Karen Leigh

The two returned to the gates of the compound and were let in, the guards eyeing the weapons dangling from two mouths. As they got closer to the front door a shape in the darkness stood up and Michael moved towards them. Baines dropped the weapon at Michael's feet and lifted his nose to Michael checking out his emotions through his scent. Michael put a hand on Leigh's head and asked, "What have you two been up to, where did you get the weapons?" Of course, he didn't expect an answer but could not hold back the questions.

Baines picked up the weapon again and nudged Michael into letting them into the house. Alexei, Sasha and Johnny were waiting in the large foyer. They came forward and Alexei and Sasha took the weapons from the wolves.

~I'm going to go dry off and rest. Can you take care of retrieving the rest of the weapons?~ Jess had moved closer to Johnny.

~Yes, you take care of yourself and, Jess, thank you. I enjoyed myself tonight.~

The wet black wolf moved closer and gave a quick swipe of her tongue across his muzzle. ~You're very welcome. It was nice to have company." With that she went back to Johnny and with a toss of her head walked away from the group. Johnny followed.

Baines stood wondering how to communicate what he wanted to the three remaining. As he stood pondering, Alex Krycek looked into the room just as Jess and Johnny moved past him. Looking from Jess to Baines to the weapons in the hands of the two androids, his eyebrows rose as he watched the wolf take the weapon from the android and put it on a chair. He shook his head and continued on.

Baines watched the man pause and stare and he took in the scent and filed it in his memory. Keeping an eye on the man, he moved closer to Alexei and took the weapon from his hand and placed it on a chair. He watched the man leave and catalogued his movement too. He repeated his actions with Sasha. Taking Michael's hand in his mouth with unbelievable gentleness he tugged and backed towards the door. He released him and looked into the eyes of the others and swung his great head in what he hoped was a follow me gesture. He turned and trotted to the door. The three followed. He led the way to the gates and once more the guards opened them. The four oddly assorted beings closed ranks and walked through the moon lit night. It took a half hour at a steady pace before they came upon the van partially hidden at the side of a lane. A bunch of ravens scattered as they approached. Baines led his troop around back where they saw two bodies on the ground and a cache of weapons through the open rear doors.

Baines ignored the bodies, though the blood scent in the air rang through his body, and stepped up to the van. He picked up a weapon and moved to Michael and pushed it into his hand. Alexei and Sasha were examining the bodies, noting the manner of death. The ravens hadn't gone far but lit in surrounding trees and watched and waited cawing faintly. Wolves always shared their kill with ravens and tolerated them. Ravens frequently scouted for wolves by congregating near prey animals. It was an interspecies communication that benefited both.

Alexei, Sasha and Michael understood what Baines wanted and loaded their arms with weapons after checking the bodies for identification and collecting more stuff from the front section of the vehicle. A weapon in his mouth once more, Baines led them back to the compound. Again the guards opened the gate to let them in and this time one of them sent a message to Skip reporting what they had seen.

Back in the house once again, Alexei retrieved the two weapons left behind and led the way to Skip's weapons room where they left the pile of guns and documents. Passing the kitchen on his way to his room, Baines stopped and sniffed loudly. He looked up at Michael with such speaking eyes that Michael laughed and said, "Hungry huh? Okay, wait here I'll go filch a few raw steaks." Baines nodded, tongue lolling. While Michael was busy in the kitchen, Alexei and Sasha both crouched down and looked at Baines. Reaching out to touch his fur, which had dried in the warm night air, they ran their hands over his body. He leaned into the touches tail gently swaying from side to side. When Michael returned, a plate piled with thick sirloin steaks, they went directly to Baines' room.

Alexei and Sasha after seeing him safely behind the closed door went looking for someone in authority to tell about the weapons, the van and it's now dead occupants.

Michael placed the plate on the floor and watched as Baines wolfed them down. When the plate had been licked thoroughly clean, he asked, "What now?"

In answer, Baines leapt onto the bed and circled once and lay down. Michael climbed up behind him fully dressed and tried to curl around the very large body. A whoof of air from Baines and Michael felt the body beneath his arm relax. He closed his own eyes and drifted.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

He stood over his kill, blood still dripping from his jaws as he tested the wind, making sure no others of his kind were about.

Earlier, he had smelt Her - had seen Her! - with Another. He had felt his fury rising, rising and had made cover in the thicket.

His hackles had risen but he forced himself deeper, and away. He would dominate the Other, as he had in the past, and She would be his.

As it was meant to be.

As he lowered his head to the buck he'd killed with a bite to the neck, he imagined for a moment that She was with him. They would have eaten together, killed together...

Her eyes glowed from within. Her lithe body, in his mind, ran with him, alongside him as they chased Freedom, and dreams beyond. She had been meant for him. He knew this. The handlers had spoken about it. His hackles rose at the memory of those men...

Men who'd thought that werewolves couldn't understand human speech in wolf form.

Fools. They were all fools. Even Sh - no, no, She wasn't a fool. She'd only been fooled.

But in the image, the idea, that they had had, the one he had picked up, was true and correct.

She was perfect. His only Mate, or the only true one.

He'd watched her and her companion as they slipped through the woods, anger and jealousy building.

Not yet, not yet. But maybe soon.

Did She even know he was still alive? Did She care? No matter. He'd come to claim his rightful place at her side, and, when the time was right...

Looking up, he noticed the moon dashing out from behind a cloud. Full, and bright, it called to him, as the moon calls the sea, and the earth...

Lifting his muzzle to the sky, he let out a long, low howl. The moonlight illuminated his sable fur, and his eyes glowed with yellowish pinpoints, though usually they looked like the darkest obsidian...

Soulless. Limitless. Free, unbound.

Finally.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Now what? He had wolves running loose on the grounds. He had who the hell knew how many androids, all, well, almost all, green eyed and gorgeous. Okay, chalk that one up to the plus. However, he had a damaged cyborg in one room. A crazed one in another and that sanctimonious asshole who seemed to think he was Galahad occupying the attentions of the compound's only doctor.

What to do now? Well, when the going got tough, the tough got going...Skip had to take a powder. Grabbing Mac Smith because he might want to get dirty in the shower after he relieved himself, Skip headed for his private suite.

But first, Skip grabbed an android...oh, it was Trey-Trey MacDuff, a cool head, thank God. He said, "Trey, make sure they bring Wraith and what's his name to the special room. You know the one I set up if Langly ever really caught the Bat Boy? I want to make sure that I can contain those creeps if I have to."

Trey-Trey nodded after a longing look at Anne who was again having dog trouble. The malamutes seemed wildly restless, lifting their nose longingly to the wind. First the male then the female gave voice to a primal sound.

Skip could feel the urge come on him. He was thinking seriously about hanging out a "Ve are closed now" sign.

Holding Mac Smith's arm, Skip headed for his apartment, trying to think positive thoughts, but thinking sadly of lost income from all the lost sheep he should have been fleecing...hmm, must remember to call Philip and see how he was doing, the old snake charmer.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Jess padded back towards her room. Johnny thought she looked exhausted. Physically she looked fine, but he suspected that the events of the last few days had taken an emotional toll on her. Plus there was the question of how and where she and Baines got those weapons...

Some sort of commotion was taking place in front of the house. Jess's ears perked up and she turned towards the noise. "Jess," he called softly. "Are you sure you want to get involved in that right now?"

Her ears went back and she snorted, but Jess continued onto her room. Johnny opened the door and Jess padded in. She jumped onto the bed, not bothering to deal with the sheets. Johnny sat down in the chair by the door as Jess shifted around, nesting before settling down. When her breathing indicated she was asleep, Johnny allowed himself to initiate a rest cycle.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Purring in admiration, Drusilla watched the life end with exquisite abandon. Not just the body as it gave sleeping moans of both protest and happiness against Samantha's fangs, but the light she could see departing it in death. A moment in time she herself truly excelled in.

"There now... Would've been nice to hear a cry. It's like a dance you know - when they struggle n' squirm against you." Using a handkerchief to wipe away what blood remained on Samantha's mouth with a smile, Dru took a hairbrush that used to belong to a girl called Sarah. Using it on Samantha's dark hair that seemed so much like her own. "I'll have to hold one for you. It's ever so sweet when you can taste the fear. I liked you though - it's never as nice when it comes from love. Now I get to love you forever!" Sweeping her little girl into a tight hug of loving, Dru sighed like a mother cat with a kitten.

Samantha smiled as her Mother brushed her hair. "Fear can be a good thing," she murmured. "It can quicken the mind, dull old hurts..."

Samantha sighed. "But love is so much nicer. All fluffy and soft..." So saying as her mother drew her into a tight embrace.

"Can go out soon. Gettin' dark," one vampiress said to another with a look over shoulder to the window covered by curtains. Sarah had been taking an afternoon nap from boredom and would stay looking that way until someone noticed the rising stench. In the first room though laid several corpses mutilated beyond repair after death. Their innards torn out like bacon to play with as toys. When that room was discovered, fear would no doubt run through the shelter like a living nightmare... "Can have a nice stroll outside then! Talk to the moon an' stars. Would you like that?" She asked with a lift of childe upon her seated mothering lap. "We can run and play and find somewhere to dance."

At the mention of 'stars', Samantha stiffened. "Seen 'em already, mother. Seen 'em all too much... I know what they're planning," she finished solemnly.

"He knows, too," she said suddenly, with a bitter and wise edge to her voice - incongruous to her young body. "He just doesn't want to face it yet." "Or won't..." "There's a place he used to take me... not too far from here. With swings and slides and..." Standing up, she pulled her new mother across the room with her. "Jungle gyms!" she exclaimed happily. "Monkey bars..."

She led Drusilla down the hallway. "An' a place nearby for hot fudge sundaes..." She looked at her mother, wondering about her new (un)life. She had much to learn..."Do vampires - can vampires - still have ice cream, Mother?"

Letting her girl take on the lead, Dru still held her calmly. Arm of sire around the now-eternally youthful back of favored new-turned. Hand upon shoulder to let her know that she would now always be there. "So much to learn now for you. So much you've still yet to see. And you will..." She said in happy-filled sigh.

Eyes looked up to the new night sky and vampiress now felt other games to be afoot. "What's it like? This place we're goin'? Will there be people? Lots of people? Hope they'd be nice and want to be our friends. I'll turn 'em inside-out if they want to be nasty."

The information had been correct. Vampires. There weren't many in Washington, and they'd learnt to be discreet. Dru was never discreet, and Dru was the last person he'd expected to see in the moonlit playground. Still, there she was, and where there was Dru, there was a bloody mess, and there was the evidence, trailing behind her. A bloody kid. Dru, and her kittens, and *all* her sodding pets. Spike gave an exasperated sigh, and waited for the kid to get engrossed in the swings. If Dru had turned her, he might deal with her later. On the other hand, maybe they'd pay more if he dealt with Dru's bastards. Spike smiled. Perhaps this night wasn't going to be as boring as he'd feared.

"There. Do you feel? Moonshine's what that is!" But with one last push of the swing, Drusilla's happy smile changed to fallen frown. There was something around her. Something... She couldn't quite place. A familiarity of some sort that never broke the silver string between them.

Them? Who?

They.

A couple eternal.

Blinking in unknowing curiosity, even her nocturnal gaze of foresight failed to place exactly what that feeling was - yet it was there and had never really left her. Fingers left the chain of swing and she slowly turned, yet not quite fast enough. Not fast enough by any means.

At last the girl was squealing with excitement, kicking her legs high to increase the motion of the swing. Spike crept, quiet as a falling spider-web, up behind Drusilla. Her scent was as he remembered it, attar, and incense, and fresh, iron-fat blood. Swiftly winding her thick dark hair in one hand, and clamping the other to stifle her cries, he dragged her behind a wooden shelter, and threw her to the ground. She was pale, slim as a reed bent by the breeze in the fens, and more beautiful than he could imagine. But she had hurt him, betrayed him, and after he had shagged her, she'd be dust. Perhaps then, he'd have the girl too, if she were a vampire. She could take it, child or not, and be stronger for it.

Samantha had stopped swinging by now, and was quite alarmed. She jumped off her swing. "HEY! Let go of my Mother..."

Holding his hand over her mouth, he grabbed the neckline of her delicate dress with the other, and ripped, tearing through it like wet bread, revealing her tiny pointed breasts and full, rosy nipples. He grinned in satisfaction, and pulled off her panties, thrusting his hand roughly between her slim thighs and delving his fingers inside her cool, tight cunt.

She had kicked, growled and tried to bite. Above all trying to tell Samantha to run far away. He was... It was rough. Reminding her far too much of a time when mortal family was stalked and murdered by the one she would come to know as Angelus. But even when violated in such hostile manner, her gaze was full of even more heightened surprise. Attacker's identity was known by everything but sight and now she knew.

Samantha stood, frozen, afraid. Who was this man, and why was he hurting her mother? She saw a small tree limb lying nearby.

"Spike?" The voice trembled, but not totally out of fear. They had well over a century of sexual experience together and he knew every intimacy her body craved.

"You get the prize, sweetheart," he replied. "Can't say as I was expecting to see you, but seeing as you're here..."

"I've been looking forward to this, my little poppet. Nothing like the feel of my delicious Drusilla, when I'm getting all unnaturally hot and bothered."

Samantha stopped on her way towards the limb. Her mother knew this man? Was that... a slight tease in her voice, like playfulness?

Extracting his fingers with obscene relish, he unzipped his trousers, and pulled out his dick, which was dripping with frosty eagerness to plunge inside his erstwhile mate. Bending down, his game face snarling at her, he sank his fangs into her white neck and took a deep draft of her precious blood as his thighs thrust down mercilessly, impaling her on his hard, cold and pulsating shaft.

"Mother... what..." Samantha reached once again towards the limb.

Throwing her head back in wild abandonment, Dru saw the stars clearer than they had been for a long time. It was animal, it was fury and above all else... It was passion. Pure, hard and unbelievably rich passion. Far from twisting away in revulsion, vaginal muscles gripped instinctively to her reunited lover's rock hard member. Long before she had made him, Drusilla had come to love pain whether giving or receiving and their impassioned sex-unlives could be brutal in torture or as gentle as a butterfly.

Grabbing the limb with strength borne of adrenaline, Samantha ran towards the man, swinging the limb and ... MISSING him!

Bugger, thought Spike. I should have staked her while I had the opportunity, before she noticed me. What the fuck am I thinking to give this nutcase another chance? Still her blood had the spicy depth that modern blood lacked, it had the strength born of hardship, and disease, and struggle. It was nectar... not that excuse for plasma, not that poisonous shite that Americans had in their veins, full of additives and vitamins.

And that lithe figure, her white delicacy, the sweetly-sad face that belied the terrible strength and savagery, the joyful immersion in the demands of her own greedy body, uncontrolled by conscience or by rational judgment... how he'd missed it! The way she responded to him, totally. Childlike, the moment was all.

Pushing common sense aside he gulped another mouthful of the thick, heady wine she carried in her veins, and plunged his cock eagerly into the clasp of her tight vagina. Well, now, he thought, dragging his sucking lips from the rip in her neck, my night-blossom does seem pleased to see me.

He ran his bloody tongue up her snowy throat to just touch her still-human lips, then pulled back a touch to grip her thighs and tilt her hips a little to drive himself deeper into her welcoming cunt, battering against its very limit with cruel strokes as if he could invade her cold womb and pierce her slight body to pin it to the ground

"You ARE Spike...!" She cried in total happiness. His bite was deep as ever and ignited, craving flared in a furnace of exquisite delight as vampiress wrapped herself around eternal childe, with a writhing sensation of absolute need. A gasp, fully fledged and enflamed of naked devotion, soared its merry way to the surface and Drusilla buried fingers so tightly in his blonde hair that nails began to colour it red in the scratching of scalped blood. She wanted - needed him so badly like this and now her beloved William was truly back to have, to hold and do so much more in sheer and tantalizing exploration. "Mummy's missed you so much, my Prince! Oh so much..."

Now Samantha was more confused than ever.

"Damn it Dru, you were the one that buggered off and left me," he panted, as the pain of her relentless grip sliced into his brain, sending a surge of tingling sparks down his spine and into his loins. "I loved you, cared for you, got laughed at by every demonic wanker from here to Transylvania for being such a fool, and you dumped me. If you've missed me, it's your own sodding fault." Angrily, he threw himself down onto her and tore into her flesh again with his teeth, taking comfort in plundering her body.

But that wasn't where it ended - not by a long shot. There was many a time when her submissive talents could drive him wild, but taking a more possessive hold, the vampiress Drusilla tore him from the feeding wound on throat that would soon heal to perfection once more. Then, thrusting him deep inside her again in final rhythmic interlude, growled the purr of lioness in satisfaction and rolled him eagerly beneath. Her face changing to a demonic crown and fangs, while she kissed unashamedly with open-mouthed fury and tongue. A delightfully expressive organ that slid around in luxurious massage of his own salivating cavern.

"Kissing? Oh, yuck..." Samantha made a face, and ran back over to the swings. Her mother was kissing this guy. Gross. Disgusting. Eww...

She would leave her to it, as she didn't seem to be in real danger.

Groaning now, the need built in him to pump harder, faster. He slipped his hands under her chest, cupping her soft breasts and squeezing them mercilessly as he gave way before the power and terrible beauty of her demon self. Thrusting up into her sweet channel as she, in turn, claimed his mouth with her slick tongue, he threw himself heedless, into a river of lust and sensation.

In blood and torn clothes she embraced and returned every naked impulse he could give and more, until he came free of the black leather duster he had coveted from a Slayer kill in 1977. Channel slick and wet, now slid around at her pace and her William's front was scratched in deeply crimson rivulets. With one hand firmly at his throat, there was no doubt she could kill him in a second, but instead she withdrew from kiss and arched above him in all her vampiric glory.

There was just enough reason in him to wonder why he hadn't turned tail and run as soon as he'd seen her. He should've known he was too soft on her to stake her. While she'd been weak she'd been containable, but he was going to get himself in dead stook if he took up with her again, now she had all her power.

"No more lusting after Slayers?" Asked his one and true physical sire. The one who had transformed a broken, upper-class poet of London into the man he was today. A roguish devil if ever there was. "I can't see 'er round you so much now." Even here in the night where they bloomed as jasmine, those memories of drowning in the very obsession that had mentally suffocated her, ran strong and true. "Is it true? Has my Spike come back home to Princess?"

"I never did, luv," he gasped, "never anyone for me but my Drusilla"

With a final desperate shudder he spasmed violently in glorious release, howling bestially at the misted moon, and silver glowing through the strands of Dru's hair.

Climax took swift hold of Drusilla in unison with his own. An open-mouthed silent cry that only hissed with its last intake of air inside lungs, no longer serving any other purpose but a physical illusion brought about by the need for expression. The entire curvature of her spine stretching with regal grace above him. Staying locked until the combined exhilaration released itself drunkenly to the ether.

Resuming her look back at lover and eternal love for well over a century, the vampiress looked almost inebriated in the immediate afterglow of sex. Now all the benefits of making love to a psychic would have come flooding back to Spike, as he felt the amazing grip of his own sire's orgasm now shared in pure telepathic delight. The very awe of it causing vampiric crest to relax happily back into the features of humanity.

Samantha watched from the swing-set, only mildly interested. What was a slayer? she wondered idly.

Spike's face slowly reverted to its human form as his mind cleared of the passion that had carried all before it. He'd forgotten how strong she was now. He hadn't forgotten how crazy she was, though. She could kill him in a tantrum, and then cry over her actions, in genuine grief or puzzlement. Her logic came right out of Alice in Wonderland.

He had to tread carefully, very carefully. Shag her and stake her... that's what was on the agenda, you prat, he reminded himself. Dru was dangerous, and unless he caught her unawares, could easily overpower him. But she was looking at him so hopefully. There was affection in her voice, and all the years he'd spent protecting her stacked up behind her. You're going to give her another chance, aren't you? he told himself ruefully. Love's bitch, that's what you called yourself, and that's what you are still.

He pushed he off him gently, stroking her tangled hair back from her face. "Yes, Princess, I've come home to you."

"Good boy...!" She replied in happy purr. A sound that resonated in throat as only one made demon could. Try as he might to deny it, Spike knew fully well it was the reason for their break-up: That her intuition had uncovered those growing, deep-rooted feelings of obsession with Buffy Summers which he loathed to admit even to himself. Whatever the reason for his apparent spiritual cleansing of the Slayer's specter, few things could bring her more joy than reuniting with her boy now. Her Spike and forever hers, just as it was always meant to be.

Foreheads pressed together in that marvelous moment of intimacy and Drusilla slid herself luxuriously from his softening organ. Feelings of nothing but elation now swimming in her unbeating heart, for the sake of such an intensively passionate reunion.

Pulling her up to her feet with him, he picked up his coat, and wrapped it round her to cover the rags of her dress. "You're coming along with me. You've caused a bit of a stir, my precious peachlet; people have noticed my Drusilla's table manners, and they're going to get her into trouble. You were lucky they sent me to clear up, not the local hit squad, or the slayer. I've got an old friend staying here in Washington at the moment. I was going visiting, but I'm sure he'll be pleased to meet my pretty Dru." He kissed her tenderly, and wiped some of the blood from her face with his handkerchief.

Appreciative of the small romantic gestures in tenderness, she enjoyed few things more than simple togetherness with a man once called William. "We've to be careful my love," she said as though not a single bump had ever caused their relationship to so much as waver. Until the events of 1998, there hadn't been a longer-unlived and monogamous vampire couple. Things had changed then, but now the breaks felt as though mended and Dru did nothing if not act impulsively. "There's twins of metal men round 'ere. All look the same with not a blemish between."

He looked at her, puzzled. He knew she'd seen something odd, but Dru's descriptions were bloody hard to interpret sometimes. Well. He was careful... that went without saying. Drusilla being careful? Yeah, right... not in a month of Sundays.

Suddenly he remembered. The kid. Dru had a kid with her... there it was, amusing itself on the swings. He licked his lips. Nookie always gave him an appetite, and if Dru did it in, he could share the feast without getting zapped by his pesky implant. "I'm hungry, luv. Is that supper?" he asked, hopefully.

"Spike!" Slapping him around face and then kissing it better in characteristic contradiction, Drusilla acted in a bizarre yet familiar mix of scolding with care as they walked back towards the swings.

"Watch it, petal," he muttered, scowling, and rubbing his face. "That hurt."

"I'll not have you talking about your new little sister like that! I'm Samantha's mummy too now, just like I made you." No doubt that one came as a severe shock to the bleached blonde bad-boy.

New little sister? thought Spike. Give me strength! Not again. He thought of the stake in his coat pocket. Bit obvious. Even Dru would catch that one. Maybe a broken railing? He could shove the kid, pretend it had stumbled. Get her a puppy or a fluffy rabbit tomorrow and she'd forget instantly.

Still, Dru always had a knack for the unexpected. Someone who spoke in terms of family relations as though still human: Of 'daddys', 'mummys' and 'makers' rather than such formal terms as 'sires'. Darla herself had more than once been annoyed by Drusilla's label of 'grandmother' and it was just such an occasion that had led to her finding him, that one night in London back in the year of 1880.

'Well, if you're lonely Dru, why don't you make yourself a playmate?' 'I could! I could pick the wisest and bravest knight in all the land and make him mine forever with a kiss!'

And with those words a distraught young man, named William the Bloody for his 'bloody awful' talent with poetry, marched straight into Angelus on the street with a warning to 'watch where you're going'. Sad and tearful in heart was he and on that night her fair beloved was then chosen. Eyes fixed on him in wonder before following him inside a stable meant for coach and horses. Describing with intuition William his own inner feelings, for what he himself could not find the words to voice.

A supreme irony in a way, that her dark gift of fanged immortality could bring such happiness and long decades of loving, lit devotion.

"Samantha she's called. I promised she could be like Sleeping Beauty an' that's how it was." All in all, when Dru had her undead heart set on something there was little chance of swaying her mind from it. Parental care for Samantha as a daughter, at least for the moment, being precisely one of those things.

"Samantha. Fine." He looked at the child on the swing with disgust. "What about its sodding parents, darlin'? There'll be a search. Police. This isn't bloody Sunnydale, with its play-coppers, and so many missing kids no one gives a toss anymore. We need to get out of here."

But Drusilla only smiled with a knowing shake of the head. "Orphan girl that one is. Won't find her 'cause no one cared. I cared though," she finished with happy parental pride. Looking for all the world as if she expected to be fed a dog biscuit for her trouble.

No matter Spike's thoughts on the matter, vampiress snuggled in contently against him in the jacket now covering what parts of her dress had since become tatters. "We'll be a family, hmm? Together like we should be proper."

He looked down at her, pursing his lips in exasperation. The kid would be dust, just as soon as her back was turned. He'd lumbered himself with Dru, but he couldn't be arsed with a kid tagging along. Knowing Dru, she'd want all the kit that goes with a kid, too. It had happened before. Toys, clothes, lullabies... parties. His stomach turned at the memory of them. Vampire children at kids' parties; fucking nightmare. He enjoyed carnage as much as the next demon, but spending days scraping gore off the walls? Not again.

Then, still with head resting with smile on his shoulder, Drusilla frowned and looked up. "Haven't you eaten already? You - oh... Screams isn't it? Not theirs. Yours." A mothering look of absolute concern came over and arms slipped from its link in Spike's to around his torso to hold him closer still. "My poor Spike. Me an' Samantha'll make it all better, you'll see. Mummy's always got games to make everything better," she ended in mischief with a lick of tongue over lover's face.

That was another question. Should he tell her he'd been got at? Gelded, evil demon-wise? She was so unpredictable - she might turn on him. Or she could be useful. The taste of bottled blood was foul, and his sweet Drusilla would be happy to bump off a meal for him, he knew. He wouldn't get the fun of the kill, but at least the blood would be hot and fresh. Shrugging, he pulled her away, and took her hand, grinning.

"Come on then, precious princess. Call your little daughter, and let's go."

Not totally oblivious to his potential hostility towards the new little sister, Dru still thought there was time for Samantha to grow on him. And if he dared to make her dust, Spike knew fully well that a vicious and angered Drusilla was not something to be taken lightly. All the more so for a mother's protective instinct. She would avenge anyone who tried to take him from her, after all. Only fair that she should feel the same about others of her making.

"Samantha...!" And at her call, unbeating heart was filled with smiling joy as newly sired daughter rushed into open arms. The dress was torn by earlier sexual satisfaction, but it did nothing for her ability to hug Samantha tightly.

"That's Spike. My Knight returned all over again," Dru explained with a playful touch of fingertip to her girl's nose. "Made 'im just like I made you. Brother an' sister now, you are. Mustn't make my Spike angry though. You keep safe with me, hmm?" She urged with a protective squeeze of smaller hand. "Gets awful touchy round children sometimes

The old black car was nearby. Spike opened the door with a flourish, and ushered them in, then set off at a careful pace down the dark, quiet street. Defenseless vampires are sensible vampires, he'd decided a while back. Better not to make waves than be on the bloody run the whole time.

"We're going to look up an old mate called Cory, luv," he called to the two in the back. "It's been a while since I saw him. Hundred years or so, I think. Remember? We had that game? Kept killing him, he kept coming back to life. Bloody funny. Even he ran out of ideas in the end. I heard on the grapevine he's in town, so I thought I'd look him up."

Eyes flickered in response. Drusilla cocking head at the dim and distant memory. So many murders and so little time in which to count them... "Oh! Mister Kill-Me-Not!" The change was dramatic to say the least: Eyes lighting up, smile curving upwards in delight and aura radiant in glee. Wrapping herself tighter in the black leather jacket bestowed to her for temperature's sake, Drusilla hugged the vampire-child on lap momentarily tighter. Tickling between ribs and ending the brief game with laughter for both. "We're Kill-Me-Nots too... Had the most delightful taste of magic in his veins. Never ran out either!"

Cory... How much fun that they had with a body that simply could not die! It was almost like Christmas. A man that felt pain but would not crumble. She had even let him keep that handcuffs afterwards as a memento for being so marvelously sporting. Whether or not he had consented to the pain was another matter altogether. All that mattered was that there were laughs aplenty that night and thrills made in pretty red pictures with knives and such things.

"And there was... Matthew? No... No, that's not right." Eyebrows knitted as Dru tried to remember the other man's name beginning with the letter 'M'. "Oh Spike, who was it again? The other - oh! Methos!" More laughter rang out as the black family car drove through the streets of Washington. Vampiress thinking of yet another immortal who had no fangs but was friendly all the same. "A Mister Methos, mmm... You two 'ad such a laugh down the pub, didn't you love? Played a tune for us on the piano while we danced an' felt all funny. I think it may've been the drink. It got to me that night."

Bugger, thought Spike. He'd slipped my mind. His memory of that evening was also vague. Too much stout and, later, mother's ruin had left just a few memories, which differed from Dru's by more than a little. He remembered Methos as a bloke with a big sword and sod all sense of humour. Unless you call it humorous if someone threatens to decapitate you; after all, the wanker was laughing when he'd said it.

Narrowing eyes, Drusilla couldn't quite remember everything she had done that time. Things had got remarkably fun-filled after her fifth glass of... Something. Quite what it was she didn't know, but it started to taste nice after a while and her head felt decidedly lighter because of it. The distinctive tunes of some old cockney song interspersed with lyrics from a church hymn had come to her lips and everyone laughed with her when she burst out in song. Or was it an ad-libbed rendition of the Can-Can dance?

No matter.

Turning her attention back to the present as they reached what looked like the outside of a large hotel, Dru swiftly came back to reality after what felt like an age staring blankly out of the window, fondly remembering distant times past. "Oh look. We're here. Out we come poppet," she mention to Samantha. Exiting the door that Spike held open as a proper gentleman for his lady. Except that it was ladies now; as in plural. "Your big brothers like a daddy now and he's going to get us a room now. Somewhere him and mummy can catch up on old times." The words were directed at Samantha but the hungry, almost rapacious look was saved for Spike's eyes only.

"Old times?" Spike gave a snort of laughter. "A nice cozy chat over a cup of tea? Lovely." She looked wild, and he wondered again what he was playing at, encouraging her. Then he looked at her harder, and shook his head ruefully. Smothering or no, powerful or no, she was still his Drusilla, still needed looking out for.

"Not quite, love. Not quite." Her expression was something akin to amused arousal, if such a thing could be said to exist. An interchange of play and knowledge that they could have the old times back once more again. "Although we could have a tea party after. I think I shall! And cakes too!" Hands were clapped together in anticipation of the moment and many a planned fantasy was already going through Dru's head. "We need an announcer Spike. Someone to tell 'em out loud who we are. Just like royalty in a ballroom. Remember those?"

There she was, thinking she was all evil vampire incarnate, looking like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. Hair like a rat's nest, smudges of mud and blood, her tattered dress barely hidden by his coat, and she was going to march into a smart hotel as if she was a bloody duchess. He took a gander at himself in the wing mirror. Not much better, but he had spare clothes in the boot. He scrubbed his face clean and threw a jacket on to hide the rest of the mess.

"Wait here a sec," he told the two, and dashed in to book a room. Shortly he returned, and handed the keys to a suite to Samantha.

"Run on inside, kid. Get the door open, and the bath running... and bung in a bottle of bubble bath. Your mummy here needs a bit of pampering. As for you, my disheveled darling," he said to Drusilla, "we'll have to sneak you in. Don't want anyone seeing you looking like Waynetta Slob, do we? Spike wants to be proud of his princess."

Turning head slowly on one side in a manner that would have seemed haunting to anyone but him, Drusilla's need to burst in the hotel in song and fancy had since calmed. Emotions that now gave way to a smiling nod of distinct understanding. They could have their honeymoon of blood back again... Could have it back for good now. "Black Knight knows his Princess he does," she politely enthused. A finger tracing its appreciative way over former poet's distinct jut of cheekbone. "And I'll make you proud my Spike. Just you wait an' see. Always did it before, didn't I?"

He smiled at her, and leaned in to give her a lingering kiss on her neck, just under her ear. His mind was elsewhere, though, wondering how to find her some new clothes. Well, he could probably leave that to Dru, but while she was bathing he and the kid could go for a stroll, get to know each other, and find a jeweler's to rob. He wanted to see her in pearls, tonight. Pure, flawless pearls around that long, perfect throat. Perhaps the kid would like pretty things, too? Girly things... A plan was knitting in his mind. Get pally with the kid, give her presents to win her over, and use her to find him food, like a fucking retriever. He might never have to tell Dru about his problem. Maybe the little tyke had a use, after all.

Moving with the speed and stealth that only vampires can, Spike escorted Drusilla up to the room unseen.

Jumping up into his arms to be cradled like a virgin bride with husband at the threshold to their room, vampiress laughed aloud at the sheer majesty of it all. Not that she could plausibly be described as an actual virgin itself in the tattered, ravished state her clothes were in but she never lost that look of perfect innocence and naivet. How could she when it was preserved for eternity by the demon that had driven her to what most called insanity?

"Spike...!" Indulging their carefree spirit that made them the most passionate undead couple known in all of surviving history, Dru wrapped arms around his neck. Hands linking by wrists from behind as she felt herself whisked along on their reunited perpetual honeymoon. Oh, how grand it was to feel loves young calling again. "You are a sort! I'll have to put you in shackles and smack you silly!" But the words were only meant in jest and she wouldn't have thought of passing any of it up for a second. Things were how they used to be again and with that she was more than happy to be content. Actions spoke louder in any case and lips soon came over his in a dramatic, open-mouthed kiss of lovers who could truly never die. A long sighing moan came out from throat while the door closed behind them and Drusilla languished writhingly in his arms. She wanted it all and now, with him, they could take it again.

When they weren't busy taking each other, at least...

Feeling herself slowly placed onto the floor, Spike's loving sire ended the kiss with a lioness purr. Satisfaction given that would keep her content for the moment. "My poor Spike... All the tin soldiers makin' it so that you can't kill. Can't hurt. Not a living soul." Yearning pity was all that she bestowed on him, rather than any measure of foreseeable revulsion. One hand running through short blonde hair that in its natural state had once been of a decidedly browner hue. Drusilla had already known by intuition about the obstacle that remained in front of his killing destiny. Had dropped the hint earlier but only wished to fix it for him. "Mummy'll make it better. You'll see. I'll run and catch so you can eat the lamb in the blackberry patch, hmm? Then," she decided with sly grin and curvaceous form pressing itself with a seductive slide against him, "I'll make it so's you can be what I made you again." Fingertip trailing from his nose to mouth, thoughts danced creatively in mind as she teased with the foreplay of suggestion and kill.

"But not before I bathe."

Samantha had followed her mother, staring uneasily at her new brother. She wasn't sure she entirely trusted him... but he seemed to make her mother so happy. She skipped ahead of her into the bathroom, starting the water as Spike had asked.

"Mother, where is this friend of yours we're to meet?"

"M'not quite sure yet, dearest. Friends always tend to meet again," she mused. "Even if it is just in dreams." Entering the bathroom with a glide of feet and stretch of shoulders, vampiress gathered daughter up in arms for the simple sake of togetherness. Now that Spike was back and thinking of her instead of the Slayer, things could all be well again. Especially when they met Cory again. It would be fun to kill him over and over and over again. Drove her quite mad in a fit of giggles the last time they had tried it.

She ran a hand through Drusilla's hair. "Spike's like you. Old, yet young. Tell me about him? Was he lost, like me?"

Patting Samantha on the back and then releasing from the hug, Drusilla frowned for an instant as she remembered that first meeting between vampiress and living poet. "Yes. He was," she said in simple candor. The torn and tattered dress falling off with gracious ease to reveal a lithe, pale body of preserved and youthful perfection.

"They all laughed at my William's words. Called 'imself Spike later on that year. After he was mine..." As underwear too came off in complete openness with vampiric family, Dru's mouth curved dreamily upwards in a smile at what young love had once brought. "Such a passionate man, so 'ee was. Always with a passion for something. Someone. She never saw in 'im what I did though." Indeed, it had been rejection from the girl called Cecily, which had brought a man then-called William to Drusilla's notice. "I never quite fit until then. Always evil daughter I was. But I found love! I did!" Beaming excitedly at her own newfound daughter who would be far more loved than she would ever be neglected, Dru slipped into the soapy water with delight. Submerging her face beneath it without the need to breathe and then rising back above it like sea-nymph of legend. Skin now almost totally healed of all and any marks from the earlier sexual conquest and reunion.

Raising one arm out in Princessly self-admiration covered by bubbles, Drusilla felt once again at ease. The puzzle was slowly fitting back together and the vampiress looked far more alive than her undead body would have suggested. "Mmm, I feel free again now...! You'll see pet. Spike'll make everything better again now. Better again 'cause that's what mummy's gonna' make it for him."

On to Chapter 24

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