Spike and Dru

New York, 1977

"I want to fly like a bird," Dru said. She stood on the crumbling roof of a mausoleum, overlooking the ancient cemetery. The moon was full, barely touched by the clouds that covered the rest of the sky like a shroud. Spike stood behind her, holding her around the waist. "How can I fly?"

"Dunno, love. I never tried," he whispered into her ear. She laughed, turning to face him, drawing her sharp nails across his flesh and licking the blood that oozed from the wounds, moaning slightly. Spike closed his eyes and smiled at her. He loved his dark princess, more than anything else in the world. She had beauty beyond the description of mere words, like someone from a fairytale. But what a dark, twisted fairytale that would be!

Spike could imagine it in his head. A beautiful vampiric temptress, luring children to the woods to drink their blood, drain them dry. The children hearing that story would be too scared to venture into the woods again. On second thoughts, that fairytale wasn't too different from all the others at all. The main difference was the beauty of the villain. Fairy-tales often seemed to forget that beauty and goodness were not one and the same. Leading to little children believing that if someone looked nice to them, they were worth trusting. Big mistake. Considering that a lot of vampires were sired merely because some vampire came along and liked the look of them, that was an even worse assumption that it sounded. Sure, if you can tell someone's a drug addict by looking at them, then you most likely are better off not trusting them, but you should never judge a book by its cover, and looks could be deceiving.

"Can I fly?" Dru wondered aloud.

"What does Miss Edith say about it?" Spike asked her. Drusilla appeared to ponder for a minute.

"I'll go get her," She said, hurrying back into their home. Spike sat down on the edge, dangling his legs into the air like a child, waiting for her to come back. She seemed to be taking a while, and a frown crinkled his brow at the thought. But soon enough, he heard her light step dancing behind him on the mausoleum's roof. She knelt down to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"She says I can. What do you reckon? If I try hard enough…" she whispered to him.

"Go ahead and try, pet. It'll do no harm," Spike said to her, his lips as close to hers as possible without muffling the words. Dru giggled and drew back quickly, teasingly. She glided to the edge of the roof, arms outstretched, head leant back, staring at the moon, at the absent stars. They might not be there tonight, but she could certainly see them just fine, twinkling like diamonds in the sky, speaking to her, singing. She sang back to them. Her voice could never be compared to theirs, she knew, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.

She took a step back, preparing, then sprang up from the mausoleum. And came right back down a moment later, only managing to leap a few feet in the air before landing gracefully on the ground. She looked back up at Spike, crestfallen.

"I can't fly," she told him, pouting, like a little girl. Spike put his cigarette out, jumping down to land at her side.

"Sorry, love, it's not my fault. If I knew how to fly, I'd tell you," he said to her. She sat down on the ground, and lay down among the roses, enjoying the prickling sensation on her skin. She glared at Spike. He honestly didn't know what he was supposed to do. He could hardly tell her how to fly, they weren't in some bad movie, and in the real world, vampires couldn't fly. He thought hard for a moment, crinkling his brow in frustration. Then an idea came to him.

"Hey, I saw these little orphan siblings, street kids, all alone, on, well… the street. Not too small for homeless kids either. Look they'd be just right for eating," he said to her, hoping it would please her. She stopped pouting, at least, and got up, dancing over to him gracefully. She ran a hand through his spiky white hair.

"Show me the little ones. Please?" she said, leaning closer to him.

"Anything for you, Dru," he responded. "Anything."

Dru smiled widely, grinning like one of the eight year olds she so loved to kill. She took Spike's hand, and they strode off out of the cemetery, looking for all the world like the mundane couple they certainly were not. As they passed through the streets, they did, however, get some stares and whispers. They seemed to have become rather well known in the area of New York in which they lived; something of an urban legend, perhaps, though, urban legend would indicate no truth, and there certainly was a great deal of truth to these so called 'rumours' about them.

They finally spotted the children Spike had mentioned huddling in a corner of a street, shivering. Their clothes were torn and dirty, their hair greasy, their eyes frightened. The smallest looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Drusilla smiled at them as she drew near, kneeling down to face them eye to eye.

"Do you need somewhere to go, my pretties?" Dru asked them, staring at them intently. "We could take you back to our home for dinner. Does that sound nice?" The children — there were three of them, brothers — agreed that it sounded good, even going so far as to smile, unaware of the devilish glint in Drusilla's eye. She and Dru led them back home, Spike seeming — and being — incredibly bored. But he didn't mind. Dru was happy, and that was all that mattered.

It was only when they arrived at the cemetery gates that the brothers realised something was wrong. More specifically, the eldest noticed it. He tried to run, tried to get away, but Spike was simply much too fast for the little boy. He broke his neck instantly. This was when the younger ones noticed something was happening. They backed away from the now fully fanged vampires.

"Ooh, I love it when they run. Builds your appetite chasing them before dinner," Dru said.

The frightened children ran as fast as their legs could carry them, but it was no use. Drusilla pounced on one of them, caressing his face gently with her long nails. He looked back at her with wide eyes, pleading, imploring her to let him go. How sweet! He held his shoulders gently yet firmly, and for a moment, he actually believed she would let him go. And then she sank her fangs into his throat, savouring his screams and the sweet taste of his blood — like chocolate, it was. She dropped him body to the floor, and turned to her Spike.

"We should give them a burial," she said. "Or maybe hide them in our little house."

"They'll smell, love. We gotta leave them here," Spike pointed out, reaching an arm around her neck. "Besides — why waste time burying our victims when the night could be spent in much better way?" He kissed her gently, licking some of the blood that remained. As soon as he pulled away, she put a finger to her lips, and pulled him to one side, behind a tomb.

He peered out, immediately knowing why she told him to be quiet. A dark-skinned young woman was striding confidently through the cemetery, wearing a leather coat and carrying a stake.

"The Slayer," Spike breathed, his voice audible only to himself and Drusilla. "Well; I think we'll be staying here a bit longer than was planned, my dark princess." He added, in his mind: I want that coat.

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