Part 5
The petite blonde walked into the chamber with assertion and authority, with hardly a second glance at the imposing antique chestnut bed. Her gaze rested on the two naked corpses asleep in it, resting in all tranquillity in each other’s arms, the rise and fall of each chest noticeably absent. Quietly she stepped forward to check how little they had changed. Drusilla at least. It had been many years since she had seen them, and, well, God only knew what had possessed him to do…. That…. To his hair. She gawped at him a little. He’d always been eccentric, she realised that… but really. Dru’s hair was still its beautiful deep brown, full as a red squirrel, and it lay strikingly over the icy milk of Spike’s compactly muscled torso.

She cleared her throat to wake them, yet they lay sleeping still, Spike’s loose hand lying possessively on his lover’s hip. Darla tried a little louder, but to no avail. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

‘Wakey wakey rise and shine, children.’ Not quite as subtle as she would have liked, but at least they were awake.

Spike had jumped up, startled at the old familiar voice. He lost his footing in the tangled bed sheets and promptly fell off the edge of the bed. Dru squirmed and opened her eyes with delight.

‘Grandmummy? Ooooh, look, Spike, it’s Grandmummy come home for Christmas.’

Spike’s head reappeared into view. ‘It’s July, Dru, there’s another 5 months til Christmas.’ He paused to pull on some pants, then straightened up to face the guest. ‘Bloody hell, Darla,’ he grumbled. ‘What’re you doing here? Is Ang…’

She raised an eyebrow to stop him short.

‘Not that I’m not glad to see you, I’m very very very glad to see you,’ he switched vein seamlessly. ‘How are you? You good? You look good. You look…’ He paused in the midst of his babble, and Dru, who had propped up her head to observe giggled. ‘Just great.’ He finished awkwardly.

He resisted the urge to shove his hands in his pockets, thoroughly embarrassed by his school boy reaction to her presence. He looked to Dru where she lay on the bed for reassurance, but she only glinted back at him unencouragingly. Oh God, he was outnumbered by women, and oh God, he remembered wha these two were like together, two women, one of him…. His thoughts changed track. Two women, one of him… He looked up at Darla, could not conceal his obscene leer.

Predictably she was not impressed, she dealt him a scathing glance, and he remembered his hatred of how tiny she could make him feel, as if he were a newbie to the biz, only recently eaten. The memories came flooding back, and he snapped out of his leer fast, vastly aware of quite how blonde he really was. She sidled elegantly towards him.

‘Thanks, really. You have no idea how much that means to me.’ She added dangerously. She looked into his face, her disappointed and perplexed frown speaking volumes. He was taller and better bult than the scrawny vamp in braces that had so grated on her nerves so many years ago. But there was no way she was getting over that hair anytime soon. ‘You look… different.’ She shook her head at him slowly. ‘And your newly found modesty in pulling your pants on is flattering.’ She moved closer to him, and he looked down at her, the composure in the rolling motion of the secured smooth corn-tassel strands of her hair entrancing him. ‘But next time…’ She moved her hand down to his crotch. ‘You might want to try doing up your flies at the same time.’ She looked up at him and zipped him up, and they leaned closer together, eyes locked. Spikes cool blood calmed, and the understanding of old companions returned as they re-estabilished their old understanding.

Dru giggled on the bed, watching closely, delighting in the reunion scene of as much of her family as was possible. 'Flies in a web, flies in a web, dusty dusty, flies in a web' she sang, writhing. Darla and Spike turned to watch her, as she grabbed up the bed sheets and rose to her knees. 'Grandmummy came for the singing, didn't you? For the Castle and its postcard.'

'For the view, you mean the view. It really is quite spectacular from the East tower.' Darla smiled indulgently at her, 'Yes, well, I came to see an old friend actually. But I'm assuming from your presence that that will not now be happening. Which of you killed Constantin then?'

'Dru did' Spike replied with satisfaction.

'He was mean.' Dru pointed out. 'And he made improper advances towards me.'

Spike looked up sharply. 'You what? When the bloody hell did that happen?'

'Dru?' Darla prompted for a response.

'He drooled at me, can you imagine?' Dru stated categorically offended.

'He... he... drooled at you?' Darla broke the ensuing silence in her flattest voice. 'Sweetie, I know it's been a while, but I remember you two together. Or I remember the soundtrack at least. In fact I think I actually walked in once or twice.’

‘I think you actually joined in once or twice too.’ Spike added. Darla glared at him, Dru glared at him, he dodged the topic. ‘Plus you did take out what was left of his dentures.’

Dru was unplacated, and rose to put some clothes on. She stopped, half dressed, her thin spider-like hands working nervously round the waistband of her smooth woollen skirt. ‘The tooth fairy coming for him, the tooth fairy with a hammer, a pretty blond tooth fairy with a hammer, and a one and a two and a….. Oohhhh… No… No… Spike, send it away, send it away, Spike.’

He hurried forward to try to calm her, stroking the hair away from her face, as though he could wipe away her distress, and clear her distraught forehead. She clung to him and he rocked her gently in his arms, whilst Darla looked on unimpressed. ‘It’s all right, poodle, I’ve got you, I’m right here, I’m right here. Did my pet have a vision?’

Dru nodded unhappily. ‘In a Church. With an organ. And there was a blond tooth fairy throwing a smelly hammer at you.’

Spike waited for more, but she had nothing left to tell, and let her head flop to his shoulder. Well, he was damned if he knew what she was on about this time. He’d learned through harsh experience that it did not pay to ignore these warnings, and ridiculing her was the worst thing to do. He smiled at the thought of what had happened in Morocco; the weeks of delicious pain she had put him through after that incident. What she said was occasionally important too, and he was unwilling to discount anything she said as pure nonsense.

He glanced over Dru’s shoulder at Darla, still standing primly in the centre of the room, impatient yet remaining quiet. She looked neat as always, her make-up immaculate, her lips an unearthly shade of red. He watched the curve of her neck, the deadly paleness giving way to the sharp line where her hair was pulled up in a braid, or some other decorative arrangement. Frankly he could never keep up with women’s hair, and he preferred the loose arrangement Dru favoured, but this style suited Darla, he could tell that much. Went with her outfit, he thought. She tended to dress a little too conservative and conventional for him, but he could not deny the allure of the small blonde. She was so tiny, almost girlish in the well-fitted plain red v-neck dress, short sleeved with modest shoulder pads, and an expensive grey raincoat held loosely over one arm. He knew what she was capable of, hell, what Dru was capable of too, yet every now and again it would still astound him how feminine and fragile they could look. He wondered how old both had been when they were turned, but he had never dared ask, the topic still taboo after all these years.

The densely packed soil and stone enveloped them in silence, entombing them for the daylight hours lending them it claustrophobic protection. He could sense the sun shining down on Prague through the fluff of the cotton wool clouds, estimated that it was roughly 3 in the afternoon already, the fireball descending ever closer to the horizon. He wondered at it, and then considered Darla’s presence.

‘How did you get her in the middle of the day?’ Spike asked her, relinquishing hi hold on Dru. ‘Shouldn’t you be shrivelling up like bacon?’

Darla smiled at him, and walked up close, embracing Dru and stroking her hair in comfort. ‘There are some old cave passages at the back. Occupied by some elves, whom, I believe, you have already met. Angelus and I found the entrances around the time of Waterloo.’ She stopped abruptly, still hesitant to talk of her old lover, knowing that the subject filled each of them with a unique and personal regret. ‘We stayed around just long enough for Constantin and him to substantially piss each other off.’ She turned to Dru, impatient with her whining. ‘Dracula sends his love.’

A satanic grin spread over Dru’s face like the indigo ink on water, an epic transformation rendering her happy and content once again. She leant into Spike to whisper in his ear, but all they heard was the crash from the adjacent hall.

He pecked Dru on the top of her head, then detached from her, and passed her her blouse, moving off to investigate. ‘I bet it’s those bloody elves….’

Darla stopped him. ‘There’s no need to hurry, you know, I’m fairly sure it isn’t.’ Spike eyed her questioningly.

‘So, it’s what exactly? The beetles playin Tom and Jerry with the earthworms?’

Darla sighed, ‘my idiots attacking your idiots? Just a thought. I mean, if they matter that much to you, by all means, but I’m perfectly ready to let them tear each other to pieces.’

Dru finished buttoning the blouse, and they walked as a family to exercise their devastating authority, slow with disconcern. Their voices faded into the racket, and Spike could be heard grumbling.

‘You know that poncey sod still owes me money, right? And what did you have to go and bring your own minions along for...’

[part 4]<-