A Family Again

by VampireVixon

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the plot or dialogue of "Crush" (or any other phrases that seem familiar). I also don't own the characters. But can you imagine if I did? Two gorgeous vampires lying in wait in my bed...Hell! Let's pretend I'm bi for a teensy sec...Four gorgeous vampires lying in wait in my bed...yum...Okay, sorry, I'm back. Joss, ME, and all the other brilliant gods we worship own it all...I just fantasize and type.

PAIRINGS: FFFF (Fanged Four Family Fun)--S/Dru, A(us)/D, S/D, S/A(us), A(us)/Dru, D/Dru and any combination of the above (that means orgies, people, so if you're not comfortable with that--well, ask yourself why not because, in all honesty, you may need a doctor).

RATING: NC17

WARNINGS: sex, BDSM, bloodplay, het, slash, femslash, some violence and course language, and character death (none of the Fanged Four die...again...don't worry)

SUMMARY: What if Harmony's fingers had slipped on her crossbow in "Crush" and her arrow hit Buffy instead of Spike? This story starts off as Spike/Dru, but will soon develop into a Fanged Four reunion piece (a completely plausible one, or so I hope).

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am open to a wide variety of pairings--it all depends on what mood I'm in. One of my all time favorites, if not my absolute favorite, is FFFF. I also firmly believe that Drusilla is the best match Spike has ever had, and will be until the glorious day when the walls between realities shift and Spike meets me. But in the mean time, I just want him to be happy. Whenever I watch "Crush"--one of my all-time favorite episodes--I always want Spike to end up with Dru. He would be so much happier! I finally decided I couldn't take it any more--I had to change the ending. The bit between the lines of *** at the beginning of this story is just the transcript of the scene from "Crush" that I'm so politely interrupting (thanks, buffyworld.com!). Feel free to skip that if you already know all the dialogue (don't be ashamed--I do, too). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it! Thanks to all my dear Betas: G.I.A.T.W.T. (Glee, In All The Wrong Things),Cold-blooded Jelly Donut, and Tragedy Beckons for your encouragement!

DISTRIBUTION: Want. Take. Have. Just please be sure to let me know so I can have a happy!

FEEDBACK: Please is not a strong enough word! This is my first fic ever, so I need the support to keep me going. I have been an avid BtVS and AtS fanfic reader for a few years now and have always wanted to write something. Now I finally am, and I want to make sure everything is completely canonical, in character, and 100% believable (redundant, I know, but I wanted to clarify). All it takes is a quick email to vampirevixonbtvs@yahoo.com and I'll love you forever!

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Chapter One 

"There she is," Spike said as Buffy--who was chained by her wrists to a stone arch in the lower level of his crypt--returned to consciousness. "Beginning to think you'd sleep the night away."

"Dru ... Drusilla?" Buffy asked, remembering.

With a slight grin and raised eyebrows, Spike stepped aside to reveal Drusilla with her hands tied behind a pillar.

"Not nice to change the game in mid-play, Spike. You've taken my chair and the music hasn't stopped," Dru whined. "Sorry, pet. My house, my rules."

"I think I shall be very cross with you when I'm free again."

"What's going on?" Buffy broke in.

"Simple. I'm gonna prove something." He walked right up to her. "I love you."

"Oh my god," the Slayer replied with a grimace.

"No, look at me!" He said firmly, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. "I ... love you."

Buffy jerked her chin away from his hand, but he continued. "You're all I bloody think about. Dream about. You're in my gut ... in my throat ... I'm drowning in you, Summers, I'm drowning in you."

Drusilla began to laugh wildly.

"I can do without the laugh track, Dru."

"But it's so funny. I knew ... before you did. I knew you loved the Slayer. The pixies in my head whispered it to me..."

As Dru continued to mumble, Spike turned back to Buffy. "You can't tell me that there isn't anything there between you and me. I know you feel something."

"It's called revulsion. And whatever you think you're feeling, it's not love. You can't love without a soul."

Drusilla piped up at that: "Oh, we can, you know. We can love quite well. If not wisely."

"You still don't believe. Still don't think I mean it. You want proof, huh? How's this?" Spike stalked over to his Buffy Shrine, grabbed a stake, turned, and pressed it against Drusilla's chest.

"I'm gonna kill Drusilla for you." The hysteric laughter escaped Dru's lips again.

"That doesn't prove anything ... except that you're a sick miserable vampire that I should have dusted a long time ago. And, hey, already there," Buffy said sarcastically.

"Don't mock this."

"Go mock yourself."

"This is Drusilla, girl! You have the slightest idea what she means to me? It's the face of my salvation!" Spike looked at Dru and smiled slightly. "She delivered me from mediocrity. For over a century we ... cut a swath through continents. A hundred years, she never stopped surprising me." He caresses Drusilla's cheek and she leaned her face lovingly against his hand.

"Never stopped taking me to new depths." He said quietly, "I was a lucky bloke just to touch such a black beauty."

"Aw..." Dru murmured as her childe continued to stroke her cheek. Suddenly, Spike lifted the stake to her chest again, and she replied with a gasp and a wince. "Ow."

Spike turned to look at Buffy. "So you see, it means something."

"Not to me. Kill her, why do I care?"

Spike lowered his hand. "Here's why," he walked toward Buffy. "If you don't admit ... that there's something there ... some tiny feeling for me ... then I'll untie Dru, let her kill you instead."

"Yes, please. I like that game much more." Dru interjected, eagerly nodding her consent.

"Just ... give me something ... a crumb ... a barest smidgen ... tell me ... maybe, someday, there's a chance."

Buffy looked at him intensely and his hope shown in his expressive eyes.

"The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious."

Extremely confused and outraged, Spike shouted, "Oh, what... Ohh!" as he turned away, threw the stake to the ground, and gave a loud, angry, desperate yell. "Gaaah! What the bleeding hell is wrong with you bloody women? What the hell does it take? Why ... do you bitches torture me?"

"Which question do you want me to answer first?" Buffy asked smartly.

"Look, I, I'm at the end of my bleeding tether. You know? I don't even know why I even bother, you know." He pointed accusingly at Dru. "This is your fault. You're the one to blame for all this."

"Am I?"

"Bloody right you are!" he continued to shout. "If you hadn't left me for that chaos demon, I never would have come back here! Never would have had this sodding chip in my skull! And you," he looked at Buffy, "wouldn't be able to touch me, because this," he gestured between Buffy and himself, "with you, is wrong. I know it. I'm not a complete idiot." He stomped past the captive Slayer and then turned back. "You think I like having you in here? Destroying everything that was me, until all that's left is you, in a dead shell. You say you hate it, but you won't leave. You know, what I should just do, is get rid of both of you. Burn you," he said to Dru. "Cut you into little pieces," he made a cutting scissors motion with his fingers, "so there won't be any more bints to cock up things for Spi-"

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"You know, what I should just do, is get rid of both of you. Burn you," he said to Dru. "Cut you into little pieces," he made a cutting scissors motion with his fingers, "so there won't be any more bints to cock up things for Spi-" He stopped dead as he heard an arrow whiz past him and strike Buffy in the chest.

"Oopsies!" Harmony squeaked from where she stood behind Spike.

"Buffy!" Spike breathed, running up to her and looking critically at her wound. It was bleeding heavily. He knew a fatal puncture when he saw one.

Buffy stared in horrified shock first at her chest and then at the man in front of her. She saw only the monster who bound her in the chains that had left her chest open to Harmony's arrow. "Get. The Hell. Away. From Me." She spat. His gentle blue eyes widened in surprise and shown with hurt. He stood silent, taken aback, as he heard her heart beat slow. She slumped in her chains and closed her eyes for the last time.

Just before the first tear had a chance to fall from his wet eyes, he turned his anguish to anger and spun around to face Harmony with white-knuckled fists and clenched jaw.

"My Bad! It's those slippy strings--first that penny doctor and now the Slayer. Hey! I killed the Slayer! Isn't that, like, a big deal, or whatever? Ooo, do I get a prize or something--like a tiara--'cause that would be totally cool--"

After glaring at her in silent fury during this ramble, Spike finally lunged at Harmony, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pushed her against the wall violently.

"What? Shouldn't you be happy--I mean, you've wanted Buffy dead for, like, ever." Spike's jaw ticked.

"I loved her, you. Stupid. Bitch."

"You...Oh! That's why you had me make with the major kink fest, isn't it? Eww! Gross, Spike!" Then the animal glean of pure anger in his eyes penetrated even Harmony's thick skull, and her fear set in. She began to ramble in panic, "Look, Spikey, I didn't even mean to kill the Slayer. I came in to kill you--y'know, for dumping me. I was gonna say, 'You forget about me again? The *actual* girlfriend?', but then my finger slipped and--

"Slipping...slipping back into darkness," Dru murmured. Then she grinned mystically. "Everyone."

"God! What is that crazy cow babbling about now?" Harmony looked at Drusilla in annoyance. "Can't you see I'm apologizing here? I don't really know why, though. I mean, Spike, how could you love Buffy anyways? She's not even dead!"

Overwhelmed with annoyance, pain, and confusion, Spike couldn't listen to her any more. He let her go with such force that she crumpled to the ground.

"Is now...she is now," Dru laughed. "We all are. Slipping back into place...triangles and squares in the nursery."

Spike turned his back to Harmony and took a step toward Dru, where she still stood, with her hands tied behind her back against the pillar. "Dru, luv, please...I just need some quiet." He paced away from Dru and Harmony toward where Buffy's body was chained. "I can't believe she's..."

"'Luv?' 'Luv!'" Harmony shouted. Angry tears started streaming down her face. "You throw me, wearing a brand new Dior outfit, onto the ground, and you call her 'luv'? Do you have any idea how expensive Italian designers are? I'm sick of it! How could you like that insane, flat-chested, Elvira wanna-be more than me? I'll tell you one thing: You're a couple press-ons short of a manicure set!" As she spoke, Harmony retrieved the cross-bow from where it had fallen and carefully placed her fingers on the strings; she was determined to hit her target this time.

Spike's head whipped around just in time to see the snap of the string and the arrow shooting through the air, directly at Drusilla's heart.

"Dru!"

He instantly leapt in front of her in a flash of leather.

"Spike, no!" Dru cried.

As Spike blocked his sire from the arrow's bite, the weapon pierced his chest. For a moment, Spike really believed his time was up, and his first thought was that he was glad it was him and not Dru. The next second, when he realized he was not a big pile of dust, he peered down at his chest and saw that the arrow had not in fact punctured his heart, but the area right below it. With literally imperceptible speed, Spike was inches from Harmony's face.

"No one. Hurts. Drusilla."

With these words, Spike clasped Harmony's head in his pale hands and twisted it clean off. Before she had even combusted completely into ash, Spike was at Dru's side.

"You alright, kitten?" Spike asked as he glanced up and down her body for wounds (he found none except the already-scarred-over burn marks, courtesy of Angel).

"Meow," she replied, nodding. "but you're a blood-flavored popsicle."

Spike glanced down at the arrow still piercing his chest and his bloodied T-shirt. The adrenaline brought on out of his fear for Dru had kept him from feeling the pain, but now it suddenly hit him in waves. He fought the moment of dizziness and, once it had passed, he walked behind Dru. He tried to ignore his pain as he gently untied the ropes that bound her and massaged her wrists. "Dru, I'm so s--"

"Shhh," she murmured, putting a finger to his lips as she turned to face him. "This will sting. Hold on," she told him, placing his hand on the pillar she'd been tied to as she gripped the arrow that protruded from his chest with experienced fingers. Their eyes met, and her gaze gave him strength. "A...B...C," she counted. Then she pulled the arrow from his flesh in one quick motion and threw it to the floor. Spike hollered and squeezed the pillar. Drusilla stroked his hand for a moment before guiding it back down to his side and pushing his duster off his shoulders.

"Least it didn't pierce my coat," he remarked quietly, smiling.

She smiled back as she picked the duster up from the floor, folded it neatly, walked over to the dresser by the bed, and set it down, saying matter-of-factly, "Nothing hurts Robin."

"Robin, luv?"

She gestured to the duster and said in a duh tone of voice, "Wood."

"Right then..." He decided to let it go.

"Now don't move," she instructed. She took hold of the collar of his T-shirt and ripped it down the center. She worked the shreds of material down his well-muscled arms and then danced her fingertips back up to his shoulders. She guided him by the shoulders to the edge of the bed and gently pushed him to a sitting position. She knelt down between his denim-clad legs, rested her hands on his thighs, and began to lean her head in toward the puncture in his chest.

"Dru, wait..." Spike reluctantly hesitated her. After everything that had happened in the last half an hour, a thousand thoughts were racing through his brain. Actually, they weren't. He was lying to himself. He knew he *should* be confused; he *should* be thinking about everything that had occurred. But his blood wasn't exactly rushing in the direction of his head. Well, not the head one would first suppose. All he was honestly aware of was the feel of her delicate hand's on his upper thighs, the presence of her body kneeling directly between his legs, the scent of her hair as she leaned in, and the fact that he *should* stop her. He made a feeble attempt.

She peered up at him through smiling eyes and shining sheets of chestnut hair. "Must lick the popsicle." Then she said seriously, "I must clean my boy's wound. Specks in milk don't belong." He felt the shot of electricity the instant her cool tongue touched his skin. As she lapped at the wound, Spike let out a groan. The feel of her mouth sucking the blood off his skin was sending indescribable tremors of pleasure through him. This pleasure was greatly enhanced by the slight pain caused by the periodic scraping of blunt teeth against tender, open flesh. He had missed the unmatchable sensation of the mingling of pain and pleasure spiced with blood. An occasional PG-13 rated sex game aside, Harmony had never been into kink. She flatly refused to go anywhere near bondage, and bloodplay "grossed her out." He had so missed this. He had so missed her. He missed her intelligence, her insanity, her playfulness, her wisdom, her classic beauty, her scent, her feel, her mystery, her magic. He missed how she knew everything about him and was so comfortingly familiar, and yet never stopped surprising him. He missed what it felt like to love her and be loved by her. Fuck--he missed her tongue.

She had now licked his wound so thoroughly that it was clotting and began to move down his chest to his stomach, cleaning off the blood that had dripped down. As her talented tongue worked its way over his muscular stomach and slowly dipped into his navel, he could feel his already prominent erection pressing almost painfully against the denim of his jeans. When her mouth finally reached the sensitive area below his navel to capture the last drop of dried blood, Spike moaned loudly.

"Dru..."

At that point, she stopped her ministrations, rose gracefully, and sat next to him. "All clean," she breathed. "Time to drink." She held out her bird-like wrist to him. As he stared at the tempting blue veins below the perfect white skin, he hesitated for a moment. "Spike, drink," she said with a pleading note in her voice. She added knowingly, "Family blood will fix you."

He knew she was right on so many levels, and he couldn't deny himself any longer--from any of it. Bringing her small wrist to his lips, he shifted face and sank his fangs into her.

She moaned and laced her slender fingers into his hair, holding him to her. The instant her blood touched his tongue, he felt as if he was being drawn back in time--drawn back home. He could taste the richness of age and the distinct flavor of the Aurelian line. Above all, he could taste the power and sweetness that was uniquely her, his sire.

He sucked harder and harder, unable to stop himself from reveling in a pleasure so long denied. As he drank deeper, he could feel his strength returning. The passion, the confidence, the very force that had saved him all those years ago flowed out of her veins and into him.

"That's enough," she whispered, stroking his hair. He reluctantly withdrew and lapped at the bite mark until it closed. "Good Puppy."

A bit woozy from first the loss of his blood and then the large dose of sire's blood, Spike let Drusilla bandage his chest (with fabric she tore from a clean bed sheet) and guide him to a comfortable position lying back against the pillows.

"Go to sleep now."

"But, luv," he protested, "we're both..." He lifted his eyebrows and his nostrils flared as he caught the scent of both their arousal.

Dru shook her head. "You need sleep. The shadows have been long today...and perplexing."

He began to settle back when he remembered: "What about Bu...the body?" Spike couldn't believe it had escaped his mind for as long as it had.

"Shh. Mummy will take care of everything."

Spike's eyes closed to the sight of Drusilla gently taking Buffy's body down from its bonds, handling it as gently as she would one of her dolls and murmuring softly to it. Before drifting off to sleep, Spike considered the events of the day. Buffy had hated him; he had obsessed over her and had truly believed he loved her, but she had despised him with her very last breath. Now, Buffy was dead. He knew that that thought should bring him more grief, but whenever he thought about it, his thoughts drifted back to Drusilla. His Dru, his sire, his mate--she had returned to him and they had hunted and fed together on human blood. Nothing had felt so right in a long time. She had reminded him of his true urges, his true nature as a creature far superior to the human race. And he had hurt her. He felt so guilty; he had almost gotten her killed. But he had taken the arrow for her. He had been willing to die for her, just as he always had been. Spike did not try to hide it from himself any longer: He was still in love with her. >From the way she had tended to him and let him drink from her, Spike knew she loved him, as well. So that was it then. Spike fell into a peaceful sleep with a single thought on his mind: He and Dru loved each other, and they were back together--as it should be.