Crossover: Criminal Minds/BtVS/Angel
Disclaimers: I do not own Criminal Minds (rights to CBS) or Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (rights to Whedon).
Summary: Spike sees Elle from afar and mistakes her for Drusilla.
Note: Post Angel S5 (not set in LA) and during Criminal Minds season 2, after Elle's departure from the team. This is the second story in the Catch a Falling Star universe. The first is "Make a Wish"; however, this story can be read separately.
Word Count: ~1720
Link for "Make a Wish": http://www.tthfanfic.org/Story-23827/TwistedSlinky+Make+a+Wish.htm
"My little star.
Elle Greenaway's back was rigid as soon as she heard the utterance. Her face was dark in the blackened room, just enough moonlight shining in to show one hand on the mattress beside her, fingers loosely holding her private handgun, a near duplicate of the one she'd handed in with her badge. The other arm held a porcelain doll flat against her stomach. A doll she'd had for too many years.
A doll a beautiful woman in a cemetery had given her.
"My little star, my how you've fallen
She studied the standard hotel furnishings, as if expecting to see the monster in the shadows, the one with such an endearing title. But the vampire wasn't there, wasn't anywhere nearby, and Elle was safe for now. Safe from having her light put out. Safe from becoming a true monster, not just the human kind.
"Aunt Drusilla?" Elle asked, just to check. Just once more.
"I'm going to catch my little fallen star
The voice was real, but it wasn't present in any place or time. It was in Elle's head, and for some reason that she couldn't quite explain, the ominous promise left a small, twitching smile at her lips. She tugged the doll closer, feeling the icy chill of the ceramic cheek against her own forearm. It felt so amazingly like Dru's touch.
Elle missed it. Just a little.
"Come and get me," Elle teased the night.
And she knew she would run before the vampire could get close. Elle was good at running, especially now. She ran from her life, from her work, from her friends, her family. The faces of her teammates still remained at the front of her mind, their sad, disappointed frowns clear as ever, even though it had been months since she'd quit the Bureau. Months since she'd quit taking their phone calls, listening to the messages they'd leave. She'd ditched the cell with them in mind, picked up a pre-paid, but she somehow doubted any of them would be looking for her. Would want to look for her.
Elle closed her eyes, picturing a face so much like her own, dark curls cascading down the other woman's shoulders. A feminine, outdated dress pressing at her breasts. And a mouthful of blood pouring down, dripping off her chin. Elle's eyes shot open, her gaze hyper vigilant, but the room remained empty. The ex-agent's words were shaky, but confident, when they finally came.
"If you want to catch me, you'll have to find me first."~#~
For the most part, vampires kept their senses tuned down when they weren't on the hunt, but there were certain scents that would always catch their attention. Fresh blood, the musk of sex, and, of course, the smell of a sire. Because one never forgot their parents.
So, Spike thought it was strange, glimpsing his maker from afar and not smelling her on the air. A second's reasoning left him with an answer: she wasn't real. She was in his mind. That or she was a ghost. Either way, she was haunting him, and he meant to put a stop to it.
Angel had told Spike, back in LA, that Drusilla was still around, hiding some place. Without them. Without a soul. Spike imagined she was still the vicious killer he remembered, unless one of the new slayers had gotten her stake in the vampire. For some reason, as easy as that scenario would make his unlife, the thought of a stranger staking his Dru left him feeling empty. Which is why he ripped a piece of a wooden crate from the dumpster and held it high in his leather sleeve.
Spike slipped across the street, following the glimpse he'd seen. Tall black boots, a high collar gray jacket hiding the skirt and blouse beneath, head dipped low, as if to hide from the weather. It didn't look like Drusilla, not from behind, but he'd glimpsed her silhouette in the street lamp, known that long nose, those plump lips, the shape of the hooded eyes he'd spent a century staring into.
Only the way she moved was different. No sway, only force. She didn't glide through the air, she cut through it. And Spike didn't smell a vampire. Not a one.
"Drusilla." Because he couldn't stop himself from trying.
The woman stopped in her tracks. Her body stiff when she turned, looking back down the sidewalk. Her eyes met Spike's and widened, first in fear, then in anger.
Spike cursed under his breath. She wasn't Dru. Not even close. Hell, she wasn't even her bloody doppleganger, but there was enough resemblance to still throw him. His gaze narrowed, taking her in, and he remembered a day, a few decades back. Actually, it was more a night. And it had been raining. He liked to watch his lady hunt. Though he wasn't much for children, unless the mood was right, the way Drusilla moved about little ones, drawing them in and terrifying them all at once… It was a sight to behold. But, the storm was rolling in, and this little bit was going to get soggy. Not to mention he was getting bloody peckish just sitting about, not another neck in sight.
With an unnecessary huff, he stepped out from behind a statue, not a care in the world, and lit himself up a fresh cigarette, rain be damned.
"You going to eat that, Dru?"
Because he sure as hell wasn't going to let the child go to waste.
Drusilla swayed, a chiding laugh on her lips when she looked over her shoulder. That narrow gaze was playing with him. "We don't eat family, Spike…"
"Since when?" Smoke slipped from his lips. He blinked, letting the words sink in. "Wait--what? Whose family?"
Spike never got a full answer. He listened in, sure, heard Drusilla claim the little girl was her niece or some such. But he'd never really brought it up again. Hell, much as he loved her back then, she was loony as a Jay, and she'd, more than once, called a tiger or a blue bird her kith and kin. For all Spike knew, this was another one of Dru's games.
Only, it appeared it wasn't. This woman looked too much like Dru, felt
too much like Dru, for it to be a coincidence, and from the expression on her face, she recognized him, even after all these years. This was the child from the cemetery.
Just when Spike was ready to shove off, she took a step forward, brow low, her pretty face fierce. "Where is she?" she asked, a growl at the back of her throat.
It wasn't an animal's, wasn't a demon's, but it was enough to give Spike pause.
"Took you for someone else," Spike excused. "Sorry, love."
But she was in front of him, grabbing hold of his arm.
"Is this a game to you?" she spat, eyes aflame. She was sucking in air like there wasn't enough left on the street. "Is she just playing with me? Waiting for the right time?"
Spike snorted. But something in those eyes… they were familiar, though a different color, full of emotion in a way Dru's never was… but it was because of those eyes he found himself trapped. He didn't know why, but he stayed put, certain he'd tell this woman whatever she wanted to hear.
"How long ago did you see her?" the cockiness was gone from his voice, leaving it husky, demanding. "When did you last speak to Drusilla?"
She blinked those heavy lids. "You're a monster, aren't you? A vampire, like her?"
Spike didn't bother to answer. She already knew.
"Are you going to kill me?"
Her gaze softened, a plea, unspoken, on her ruby lips. "Why not?"~#~
Spike sat in the chair, staring out the window, trying to make out shapes on the world below. When the woman moved, his attention shot to her. But she was still sleeping, her head buried in the pillow.
He wasn't sure how it had happened exactly, how he'd ended up giving her his word he'd help. But he had.
His cell phone buzzed against his thigh and he pulled it free before it had a chance to ring, switching it off. Angel would call back later if it was important. Spike guessed the voice mail would probably be filled with recordings of a steady stream of bitching. Spike was supposed to have returned with the book Angel needed to banished the Great Goo, or whatever the hell the slime demon was calling itself. Only Spike had taken a little detour…Found something more interesting.
Elle muttered in her sleep.
Spike caught the whisper: "Rules.
" But he wasn't sure what it meant to her. He only knew that she'd needed sleep and she couldn't get it if he left her alone. So, he'd stayed.
He planned to call Angel back before dawn, ask for a pick-up. For two. Because Elle Greenaway was coming with him. With them, and Peaches didn't have a say in it. Spike had made the lady a promise, and he meant to see it through.
"She'll never catch you," Spike swore.
Elle relaxed against the mattress, at peace. Spike had a feeling she hadn't been there in a very long time. He could relate. Spike drifted off, head tilted onto his leather shoulder, boots crossed over the edge of the bed, and dreamt of falling stars. ~#~
So many years of cutting open and playing and feasting. And now she watched, just watched.
Drusilla cocked her head to the side, eyes wondering up to the stars above. She hummed along with their song. "I know," she sung, and clapped manically to the rhythm, "soon, soon, soon.
And suddenly her back straightened, the insanity in her gaze shifting from something childlike to something hard and sharp and stabbing. A grin crept onto her face.
"When the time is right," she agreed, though no one listened.
Drusilla stepped down the street, away from her little ones, not giving the window another glance. She'd come back for her family soon. Put the world back together again and let it burn so prettily. Just like she'd promised she would. Everything was coming together so very perfectly.