Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike, Angelus, hints of Spike/Drusilla, Darla/Drusilla,and Spike/Drusilla/Darla
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike: Blonds Have More Fun
Word Count: 898
Date Written: 11 September 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
“One hundred,” Angelus announced triumphantly as he tossed another drained, human body into the ditch.
“It’s not about the numbers,” Spike said as he looked up with blood dribbling down his chin.
“Humor us,” Angelus snarled, looking pointedly down at him despite the distance that separated them. “What do you think it’s about?”
“Having fun.” A slow and sinister smile spread over Spike’s bloody mouth. He licked a droplet from his lips, his yellow eyes practically glowing. “It doesn’t matter if it’s one, a hundred, or a thousand as long as you’re having fun.”
“What are you trying to say?” Angelus snapped. “Don’t tell me you think blondes have more fun.”
Spike laughed, a sinister sound that would have sent chills down any human spine, if there had been any mortals still alive in the village to hear them. “No. It’s just like I said: the focus shouldn’t be on the numbers. It should be about having fun.”
“The boy has a point,” Darla remarked, looking up from where the once-strong human General she and Drusilla were sharing. “It’s not about the numbers.”
“You say that now,” Angelus snarled, his anger clearly building, “but when they write the history books, they’ll be sure to mention who killed the most!”
Darla laughed, actually laughed at him, causing her childe to fume even more. “My dear boy, we’re not going to leave any of these humans alive to be able to write the history of this place’s downfall! Angelus, darling, I’ve explained this to you before: Their disbelief in our kind makes things easier for us. We don’t want them believing. It would spoil part of our fun!”
Drusilla looked up from where her teeth had been digging into the General’s flesh. “Party pooper!” she sang out. “Go poop somewhere else!”
Angelus’ hands curled into fists at his side. He glared at Darla, who glowered back at him over her prey. He thought of slapping Drusilla, but Darla had taken a certain liking to her. Striking the girl would not sit well with her mother, who often doubled as her lover. Angelus snarled.
He looked at Spike, but Spike was already ignoring him. His arms were full of three beautiful, dead women, one blonde, one brunette, and one redhead. He kept moving his mouth from one neck to the next. Feeling Angel’s heated gaze upon him, Spike lifted his blonde head again. “Being blonde doesn’t make a difference,” he told him. “Look at these three. Two of them taste about the same, but the little brunette actually tastes the sweetest. I think the poor thing still had her virginity in take.” He laughed, then silenced his own laughter by digging his fangs into the brunette’s neck again.
“You don’t want to hear it,” Darla told him, “but Spike’s right. If you’re focusing on the numbers, you’re focusing on the wrong thing! Just have fun, Angelus! You do remember how to have fun, don’t you?” she snapped.
“Of course I do!” He grabbed the nearest of their female victims and ran a hand underneath her blouse. He tore the buttons off, freeing her breasts and caressed them as he drank of her in front of Darla.
She sniffed disdainfully and rolled her eyes, knowing full well that he was trying to make her jealous. “Men. They’re all alike,” she told Drusilla.
It was rare that Dru disagreed with her, but now was one of those times. “No,” she whispered softly as the night wind caressed her pale face and long, dark hair and she watched Spike feeding, “they’re not all alike, Mummy.” She bent her head and went back to feeding on their General as she watched the Vampire she had sired.
Darla followed her gaze with her own. She knew Dru was wrong. Men were all alike, but it would take her girl a couple more centuries to learn that lesson for herself. She knew she would. She knew Spike would disappoint her one day. Yet, even then, Darla could not imagine what their world would be like when that finally happened. She could never see Angel going good, especially when he was so enchanted with his own wicked reputation, and she certainly would never have thought either of their men would fall for a Slayer, but that was exactly what would happen over two hundred years later. They would lose their men to the Slayer not through death but through love, and that loss, in the end, would cost them everything.
Drusilla looked up again at her mother. “The night wind whispers,” she murmured, “of loss and heartache.”
“Well, it’s not happening tonight unless it’s speaking for these dead fools.” Darla snarled, then dug her fangs even deeper into the General’s neck.
Drusilla watched her childe for a moment longer. The stars spoke of how he would one night break her heart, but they had to be wrong. Her William would never break her heart, not like Angelus. He was going to leave them one night, but William would never leave her. He’d stay with her forever; he’d already promised her time and again, even when she left him to himself to sleep with Mommy and Daddy and when Daddy left him completely broken. He would never leave her! Convinced the stars had to be wrong, and that she was truly loved at last, Drusilla returned to her feast.