Summary: Drusilla and Spike are back in Sunnydale, and the stars begin
to speak.
Spoilers: Through Graduation, with a minor spoiler for Graduation 2. (At
least the way that I envision it.)
Disclaimer: Joss.
Rating: PG10; just the teeniest bit gruesome.
This is in honor of Karen-proclaimed Dru day. Happy Dru Day, kittens!
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To Shine With The Stars
by: Amy
Drusilla's eyes snapped open as soon as she heard the whispers. "The sun has just set," they were saying to her lovingly, "and tonight you will shine with us." She smiled, a smile full of dark promises, full of blood and bloodlust and whispers only she could hear. Her hand reached up and she untangled herself from Spike's embrace gently, disregarding his tightened hold on her before she got up from her place of favor in his arms.
She moved quietly, as to not wake him. No matter, he would be awake soon. Very soon, always soon. He would stand beside her as she twinkled and shimmered and dazzled the night. Slipping off her white silk sheath, she stood in front of the empty mirror for a long time, admiring herself as though she could really see her nude form. Her hands slid down her body, caressing it tenderly, marveling the milky skin that had been granted to her so many, many years ago.
With a sigh, she turned away from the mirror and sat down at her vanity table. She carefully applied rouge that the shopgirl had told her looked wonderful before Dru had gotten hungry and decided to eat her. The gloss drifted over her lips and she rubbed them together delicately, shivering in anticipation. The whispers were insistent. "Goddess of the night shall conquer..." they resounded quietly in her head. She nodded to them, stroking her raven hair with her brush. She understood.
Standing again, she padded over to the closet and pulled out her loveliest black dress. The silver threads woven through it would make her shine, and would please the stars if she truly accomplished what she was told to. She let it fall down her body and settle into place.
When she turned, she was not surprised that Spike was watching his Princess. His voice was heavy with the Sleep of the Dead, and had a raspy quality to it.
"Ducks? What are you doing up so early, my love? The sun has barely set." His eyes took in her appearance, her carefully planned and exquisite appearance. She sat next to him on the bed and allowed him to take her hand. She allowed him so much now, now that he was hers again and all things wrong had been repaired.
He stroked the lily skin tenderly and she looked at him through lowered lashes. "The stars are whispering tonight, Spike. And I must be there. You must be at my side. We must kill together."
"Always, Love," he swore softly, leaning up to claim her lips in a kiss. Pulling back, he looked at her a little warily. "Who do the stars want us to kill?"
She smiled coyly. "They wish for me to tell you when we arrive. Now, my Prince of Night, prepare for their doom."
Smiling in amusement at the drama of her statement, he rolled his eyes and got out of bed to get ready. After all, she *was* his dark goddess, and he loved her dearly.
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When he arrived at their destination, his eyes widened in disbelief. "Dru, are you mad?" He paused and then he corrected himself. "I mean, are you sure about this?"
She nodded, staring intently at the heavy cement door. She whispered the whispers in her mind. "In there right now. Weak, hungry, dying. The stars will dance for me." Spike faced her in the car, flicking his cigarette butt out the window.
Seeing the dreamy, determined look on her face, he nodded slowly. The voices were almost always right. And the voices loved her, very nearly as much as he himself did. They would bring her no harm.
He got out of the car and walked around to open her door. She lifted herself out as well, humming an un-named tune and wrapped her hand over his elbow as he guided her to the door. He suppressed a shudder. At least he hoped they wouldn't bring her any harm.
She was their most-loved child, to hear Drusilla tell the story.
Giving her a smirk, he knocked lightly on the door. When no answer came, as they knew it wouldn't, they entered their former home easily. Silently, stealthily, hunters of the most deadly kind.
"Would Princess like the more tender piece of meat?" Spike asked in a hushed tone. She shook her head.
"No." Her eyes were suddenly hard, and the dreamy look disappeared. "You may have that. I want... I want..." she trailed off as they stepped into the room, and stopped at the sight before they're eyes.
Angel was lying there weakly, his arms slung around an unconscious Buffy. Spike turned to Dru, delight in his eyes. "You want your daddy? Go on, ducks. Take a bite."
She smiled viscously and then went forward and yanked him out of Buffy's limp embrace. Her hands faltered when she saw him in his demonic visage, when she noticed that his fangs were covered in Slayer-smelling blood. Why hadn't the stars told her about this? No matter. Before she could snap his neck or sing her teeth into his collarbone, or inflict any sort of punishment on him, he looked up at her with terrified eyes, eyes that didn't recognize her, eyes that begged for an answer.
His voice was powerless, the blood of his true love not having taken affect yet. "Did I... Did I kill her? Please tell me that she's alive. Please tell me... I love her. I love you, Buffy."
Drusilla's face remained stone, and she looked over at Spike, who was leaning over the Slayer and slowly beginning to grin. Her eyes focused on the little girl, who was full of so much sunlight and was angry when the girls eyes fluttered open, and when she began to cough feebly. Drusilla's gaze snapped back to her father, the creator of her death and her one-time lover, the demon who had made her love pain, and the man who had taken her daddy away from her.
Her mind settled into a very soothing place. She stroked Angel's cheek.
"Yes, father," she whispered. "You killed her. She is dead and you are to blame. She saved you by dying, and you let her. Everything will be okay."
His dark eyes became heavy and stung with tears that leaked out of them. He blinked rapidly, hating himself, hating everything that he had become, hating what he had done to his one true love... Hating life. At last he recognized Drusilla and bent his neck back obligingly.
Her smile was fierce and she swooped down to sink her fangs into his throat. The blood leaked into her mouth, blood that belonged to a Slayer and a Vampire, blood that was mixed with love and loyalty and deep, longing sadness. The blood of her father began to seep through her veins, and as his skin became wilted and paper-y, she smiled, still drinking.
She was still drinking the air when she looked up.
The dead form of the Slayer dangled in Spike's arms and he smiled at his love broadly, acknowledging his love for her, knowing that she was the ruler of his heart and always would be. She stood, dusting off her magnificent dress and he looked at her inquiringly, unceremoniously dumping the small body of Buffy on the cold floor, next to her lover's ashes.
"Was it everything that you had hoped, love?" He asked warmly, the Slayer's blood rich in his stomach and strengthening his body.
"All that the stars had told me it would be, my sweet," she answered. "Daddy became dust from his most adored childe and his eyes held such incredible pain... I like pain, did you know that Spike?"
He nodded seriously, his eyes lighting with gaiety.
"Come now," she she told him, suddenly joyous, still listening to her whispers.
He took her hand and led her outside, to watch her dance under the stars that were glowing more brightly than they ever had before. He watched her and he loved her as she moved with the strength of stolen blood. Laughing, he moved to the center of the street, where she was.
And he danced with her.
The End