Blood Flows There Like Wine

Author: CrimsonFuchsia

Rating: R
Pairings: Spike/Drusilla
Summary: After Angelus is cursed, Spike and Dru travel to Transylvania but run into Dracula, a Slayer and Anyaka
Spoilers: Umm...it's pre-Buffy but it has Drac in it (how did he owe Spike that £11?) and Anya's a vengeance demon...
Timeframe: Pre-Buffy
Warnings: Violence and sex...oh yeah if you don't like Spike/Dru PLEASE don't read it - you won't like it. Thank you ^_^
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. I'm just borrowing them for fanfic purposes, please don't sue me.
Dedication: This 'fic is dedicated to all the S/Ders at the S/D board - I'll miss you guys so much! Kerri, Duckstew, Omnibeast, Angel Sacrifice, Bullocks, Karnstein, loonylady, Dru17...everyone - this is for you! All my love; xxx
 

9. Half-Light
 

The carriage was small. Small and cramped. Faded threadbare scarlet material with a gold pattern adorned the seats. Seats that itched. The carriage was full of the smell of humans, humans everywhere, their musk- like scent wafting upwards towards the dusty ceiling of the carriage from a floor dirty with mud from a hundred different shoes. The vampire lovers were grateful for breathing not being a necessity and the overpowering presence of sweat and blood could not reach their noses a second time.

Outside, the silvery blue mist wafted and rolled across the deep green of the land, consuming all in its path, wrapping the world in its hazy blanket. The only sound was a distant howling of wolves and the sound of loose pieces of dirt being carried along with the carriage before being mercilessly crushed under its unforgiving wheels of black metal. The air itself was ominous as the vampire lovers neared their destination. The shadows of the land licked their lips of dust in anticipation.

Spike and Drusilla were however blissfully unaware of this fact, only that soon they'd be at their temporary home and could have a marvellous time. Drusilla leaned against her lover, her strong Spike; her delicate ivory hands that were in actuality strong enough to snap necks, break through doors and shatter frail human bodies fidgeted with the fiery red lace that hemmed her velvet dress. Her obsidian eyes smouldered in the atmosphere that was neither night nor day. Spike put an arm around his ladylove protectively, mumbling obscenities to the ever-nearing dawn, not noticing his hands absently stroking Drusilla's ebony locks of darkness. Normally they might've made mad, passionate love in the carriage but the idea of daylight hovered restlessly in his mind and ruined the mood. The two lovers settled for a bit of bloodplay, their suggestive laughter and sighs unnerving the weary driver, before settling into each other's arms, finding a surprising feeling of security in them. All thoughts of a sunny cremation slipped from Spike's mind as he held Drusilla, watching her lovely hands glide across the pattern that suggested leaves on her fiery crimson, humming an old nursery rhyme to herself.

"Almost there now," Drusilla whispered. "Horses will take us home. I can hear the town singing to me, trying to lure me. I can smell the blood on it. We'll fit right in, you and me, my Spike, the dark things play like children in corners, flying through the air like clouds..."

"That's right, pet, there's some big noise in these parts so I guess we'd better introduce ourselves once we get there," his voice was threatening but amused.

"Naughty Spike, he'll be angry and he doesn't play nice either."

"Well, whoever's in charge, he better had play nice or he'll find himself out of a job. So once we get there, if there's any trouble fitting in, we find whoever's in charge, kill him and take over. How's that sound?"

"Ooh, lovely. Like a harp in my head. Such sweet little notes swirling around."

"You bet. The only thing that doesn't play nice is that bleeding sun out there." Spike spoke as a reminder of the danger they were in. Drusilla realised but it didn't seem to bother her. Which was fine with Spike; living on the edge never hurt anyone, especially him. Just as long as Drusilla was safe. Threats to him weren't taken very seriously but danger to Drusilla was something different. But she seemed fine. Spike smiled and kissed her forehead; his lover smiled and made a comment about leeches before gazing out of the small, round carriage window at the misty half-light surrounding them.

"The night and the day are all mixed up now, can't tell which is which. Such terrible confusion..." she whispered in a low, quiet tone "When Miss Nancy and Miss Victoria came to me there was such strange confusion too because they sometimes looked so similar, just like the night and day do now. I couldn't tell which was which and sometimes I'd talk to the wrong one and I'd get such a scolding from Miss Edith later for upsetting her dear girls and I had to sit in a corner by myself and no-one was allowed to talk to me. I was so alone then and I tried to make no more mistakes. Miss Edith can be a cruel companion; her anger is as harsh as the light of day. That's why we ought to be careful. The sun is always cruel and shan't play nice at all, it'll burn us for our silly mistake, naughty, vindictive thing. I don't like it at all."

"That makes two of us, love." Spike muttered under his (metaphoric) breath.

"Why can't we just blot it out with lots of black, black ink, like a thousand raven feathers?" Drusilla asked, her narrowed eyes as dark as the raven feathers she spoke of, yet animated with passionate emotion.

"If there was a way, believe me, I'd be more than happy to find it. You're right, Dru, the sun can be one hell of a bitch and a killjoy."

"Yes, he always ruins my parties..." Drusilla's voice was sad yet filled with deadly bitterness.

Spike held her face level with his own and kissed her. Dry always had everything sussed out; considering she was insane, she seemed to know more than anyone what was REALLY going on. They enthusiastically explored each other's mouths with their tongues, letting them cut themselves on their lovers' fangs, drawing cold yet passion-filled, stirring blood. Spike mused to himself that there was never such a thing as too much bloodplay for one night and appreciated this kiss as the best reason for not having to breathe. Sod all the other advantages; pleasing Dru and being pleased by Dru was still the best. After the kiss finally broke off he held her hands and said, "You know what, Dru, I'm feeling better already. To hell with the sun, we'll make it, and we can feast on that nice cabby to celebrate."

"Mmm... lovely my Spike, it dances and whips about in his veins like his beautiful wild horses, all darkness and night. His blood will feel so sweet, like honey in my mouth. And yours..." She smiled, seductive darkness shining through her like the brightest of stars.

Her hands found their way back down to her magnificent dress and resumed their game, her fingers darting through the velvet leaves. She leaned against Spike again, looking forward to when they arrived and pondering exactly how to celebrate. With blood and songs. So many people dancing together with throats as white as the moon. Like pretty primroses ready to be plucked and have all their lacy petals pulled off, one by one. Drusilla smiled to herself, she loved parties. And Spike loved her enjoying her parties too, her lovely, murdering, brave knight. She glanced at the window wishing the half-light would clear just long enough for her to spit in the sun's eye and put it out like a candle. She used to think it was a shame that Daddy took the sun away because it made the world turn blue but by now she didn't like the sun, not one bit. The sun was never invited to her parties but always came and ruined it. She smiled again despite herself - at least she had her Spike to look after her and protect her.

She remembered once when the sun caught her out and played very rough with her and hurt her with kisses of fire that scorched through her skin. It tried to pull her insides out with its searing cruel passion - tried to steal the lovely darkness, the moon, the blood, Spike, Daddy and Grandmummy all from her heart and burn it to a black broken crisp. She cried and pleaded with it to stop but it still ravaged her with whips of fire and skin that burnt her own with hot touches and she melted for him against her will. The sun even pulled her hair, burning the midnight out of her locks 'till there was nothing left! He made her scream like rolling thunder and burnt the part of her that liked pain away - she hated the sun especially for that, he made her hurt. But not afraid. Just hurt.

But Spike - lovely, brave Spike - saved her, carried her away to safety even though it meant he got burnt horribly himself. It was when she first realised she was very precious to him, extra-special in his icy eyes. He loved her. He saved her when no-one else would've. Daddy wouldn't have, he'd have killed a lot of people in such pretty, brutal ways for a long time after, always being angry, always missing her sometimes. But he wouldn't have saved her. Grandmummy always turned green when she loved Daddy but deep down she loved her just as much in Grandmummy's funny little way - she was always funny like that. Wanted someone else to take care of her, but being very good at looking after herself. Drusilla smiled, Grandmummy was so lovely, all dark and red with curls prettier than any sun. She would've tried to save her but would've given up before getting herself burnt too badly and she would've missed her if she was dust in the wind. But Spike loved her and rescued her even though it almost ended with both of them being burnt down into whispers on the wind. He made her better again with love, some wickedness and warm, dark blood, red and screaming. It stuck her back together again like sealing wax, red and hot. And whenever he was hurt after fighting too rough with one demon or another, she'd fix him too, 'till he was better and happy. Her heart expanded like a galaxy, full with the thoughts of dear, naughty Spike. She leaned in closer to him, nuzzling slightly, a playful smile on her face and an almost adoring look in her eyes before playing with her dress again.

They remained like that in blissful silence, not needing any words. Drusilla leaned against Spike, hands fidgeting with the crimson velvet, her large dark eyes wide open and staring at empty space in front of her, softly humming a song to the moon and stars. Spike held her, his cold hands stroking her hair or her cheek or her neck. Drusilla nuzzled against his touch. A ghost of a smile flickered across her alabaster face.

"You shouldn't play with your dress like that, Dru." Spike reprimanded her. "You'll tear it to shreds by the end of our trip, just like all your other nice dresses, then it'll be ruined and you don't like that, right, baby?"

"Oh yes, they always stop speaking to me after, don't they?" she replied, surprise coating her lovely voice as though it was something long-forgotten. "But I like it, my Spike, I do. All the pretty patterns swirl like leaves in the autumn. I used to love the autumn when I was a little girl, all pigtails and rosy cheeks. I used to play in the leaves; lifting them up, up in the air and watching them fall down around me like golden rain, like the sky on fire. We all used to, my sisters and me. We would laugh. We would and hop and skip and jump and twirl and play and dance then laugh some more, laughing like golden bells. I remember what we were wearing; all the little senses like pixies in the air and how I felt. Their ghosts still play in my dreams, still laughing. But when I wake up all the laughter stops and their ghosts twist my arm."

Her voice trailed off. Spike didn't reply and Drusilla saw no need to continue. She continued staring ahead at the space in front of her, lifting the gold pattern from the scarlet with her mind's eye. It made such pretty colours when it flickered in the half-light. Spike wondered how it must be for Drusilla, remembering every detail of her mortal life, however pointless and irrelevant it seemed. Personally, after so many years, he couldn't remember half of old Will's life and never cared much about it either. He only bothered remembering the big picture - bloody awful poet, laughed at a bloody lot by a load of upper-middle class poofs, feeling miserable, living with his mother. And Cecily. Queen Cecily more like, always thinking she was better than anybody else, never considering anybody else's feelings. Poor Will, such a sap, falling for a bitch like that. He knew how lucky he was now that he found someone a thousand times better.

Drusilla...

She saved him, made him a whole new bloke, one with balls and a spine. He remembered the joy of paying back Cecily and all her posh friends that made fun of him a little visit. With some railroad spikes. He smiled, relishing their screams of horror and pain and Cecily's begging and pleading, being reduced to saying she would be with him, if only he didn't kill her. His smile widened darkly, the look of defeat on her face when he told her that Drusilla was worth a hundred of her, that Dru was a real woman, someone worth loving. Besides, Cecily was beneath him. And by the time the night was over she was six bloody feet beneath him. That was a night worth remembering; all of William's mortal life paled in comparison.

He'd loved Drusilla since then, he was completely devoted to her; of course he had to be careful of Angelus and his 'my women are my property' attitude. But Spike was never one for listening to the voice of authority. Dru went hunting with him just about every night, was obviously fond of him and told him how different he was from her 'Daddy'. That he was nicer and naughtier. It wasn't long before an equinox, some babies as a gift for his princess and a night of bloodshed and laughter had her falling for him too. They snuck out a lot more after that. Of course the best occasion he could remember was the Boxer Rebellion. He'd just feasted on that deadly little thing's blood when Dru found him. He grinned; mad, passionate lovemaking ensued afterwards, both of them completely forgetting about the damned Slayer and just losing themselves in each other. It was fantastic. Well, it always was, they were doing something different all the time, it was bloody amazing but this was different, both of them covered in Slayer-blood, still hot... even the thought aroused him. Dru was amazing. He loved her for so many reasons, everything about her drove him wild and made him want to just hold her, care for her and protect her all at the same time. She was as much a part of him as he was himself - literally. She was in his blood, half of his vampiric blood stemmed directly from her own and her blood ran through his veins making him better, stronger, everything he wasn't in life. They were connected in a way no humans could ever be connected to each other, both physically and emotionally. Soulmates without souls. She was a part of him and as necessary to him as all of his limbs, as his mind, as his fangs.

As he thought those words, Drusilla stirred, breaking from her trance-like state to look him in the eyes, her own pits of darkness smouldering with feeling and a wide, wicked smile on her face. Her hands were still playing with the material of her dress. "My dress is covered in burning leaves, half dead from age and fire. See how they burn with blood-red lace as fiery as autumn leaves..." she mused, mostly to herself than to her lover. "I wonder what tree they belonged to. She'll be all lonely and despairing now that all her children are dead. She'll howl at the moon and clutch at her hair and rock their little broken bodies, sobbing, hoping if she cries enough, they'll cry back at her with life." She smiled, a dazed, far-away look sweeping over her features like a powerful wind.

Spike pulled her closer to him, his hands fingering the nape of her cold neck, causing his insane love to laugh warmly. "Will we burn things when we get to our lost little town? It's stuck in olden times, when there were legends and monsters everywhere so we'll fit right in. Evil crawls across this place like a beautiful hunting animal, sleek and deadly with eyes full of danger laced with poison. Everywhere else in the world it crawls like a blonde, blue-eyed baby with curls and dimples but not here. Here it eats babies for tea. Can we too, Spike? Can we eat babies and make their mother cry, howl and burn 'till the dark things inside her eat her up, insides out?" Her voice was sweet, wanting laced with the most silvery of linings.

Spike smiled and nuzzled her neck before answering "We can have the whole village for tea." His tone was dark, filled with the cruel suggestion that drove Drusilla wild. She smiled widely like a child with a present.

"Oh how lovely, it'll be like tea with the Queen then, won't it?"

"Yeah, Dru, like tea with the Queen," Spike replied.

Drusilla pulled him closer, her fingers delicately stroking his brow before she put her soft, cool as night lips against his ear, the brief brush between their bodies sending a warm thrill through them. Drusilla whispered seductively to her lover before biting ever-so-slightly into his earlobe. "Can we celebrate now, Spike?" He leaned closer to her, pressing her down, causing her smile to widen as he nuzzled her neck and licked her icy-cold jugular, her flesh tasting of the sweetest elixir, tinged with cold, powerful blood and the freshness of a mint-leaf. Drusilla moaned slightly.

"Make me burn like the dead leaves..." she whispered.

Spike smiled, charm pouring from every outlet. "You'll burn as bright as the stars..." he whispered before crushing his lips down her own. She responded with a fire matching his, both their hands exploring each other's bodies, each second that passed increasing the passion between as they lay down on the old seat of the carriage and lost themselves in lust and wicked passion, wanting more, wanting to get closer. Their dead hearts filled with feeling and desire and joined in love.