By D.M. Evans

Disclaimer - Don't own them We all know Mr Whedon does

Rating - R for violence

Spoilers - Post Chosen future story

Pairing - Dru/Xander

Summary - Dru finds a way to replace the two lovers Buffy 'stole' from her. She sets her sights on one of Buffy's boys.

Author's Note - This was written for the Dru Ficathon and the challenge was as follows. Mahaliem, hope you enjoy:

You'll be writing for: mahaliem
Pairing: I'd like to see some Drusilla/Xander
One thing they want: Post Chosen
One thing they don't want: character death
NC-17 Okay?: Yes


Dru drank in the smells of coffee, alcohol and smoke. From the peak of the hill she could see Coventry Road sprawled before her like a lazy whore. Dru had quickly learned this wasn't just a street, it was a village onto itself; coffee houses, pubs, restaurants all filled with delicious people having fun just waiting to be snapped up. But she had time for that. There was no need to rush.

Dru had found herself a small home in Cleveland Heights. She liked houses over apartments as she wasn't good at remembering things like rent. It wasn't the sort of thing vampires paid much attention to. Her precious Spike did from time to time as had Daddy. They like living like food, hating the crypts and underground areas their people favored.

Dru sided with her boys on the subject of dwellings. It did Miss Edith no good to be in the dank earth. Dru had passed a few nights in Mayfield Cemetery when she first arrived in Cleveland. Lots of nice crypts there and a chapel that glowed from within. Oh, how she loved that chapel, the way it whispered gold into her ears but it wasn't private enough. After two nights of snacking on overweight security guards, she had to give up her chapel of captured sunlight. She moved on to the tower of the cemetery, brown, imposing, so phallic she had to be inside it. Some president and his wife lay inside, hiding behind bars. She thought they'd be fun to play with but they hadn't been. Dust and bone were never very interesting so she had gone house hunting. Dru knew she would be in the city for a long while.

Spike and Angel had taught her what to look for. A ramshackle yard was the place to start. That might mean the home belonged to an elderly person bereft of friends and family to help keep the place up. They were the perfect prey. No one would come to their air, no one would miss them. A quick look through the windows was all that was needed to confirm who was home.

Dru knew her boys never believe she could do for herself, that she never listened to them, but she heard everything they said and most of what they didn't. She could take care of herself and it was a good thing she and Miss Edith didn't need the boys. They would be so lost otherwise. Still, she missed her boys, the smell of them, the feel of their bodies against her, the voices sweet in her ears. Spike could be like honey when he wanted to be and so could Daddy. Dru liked it best when her boys competed to prove themselves to her. Oh, the wonderful gifts they'd bring her, the parties they had. It was like Christmas every day when Spike and Angel felt they had something to prove.

Dru liked Cleveland though, even without her boys. She was glad the winds told her to come to the Hellmouth. She had so loved hearing the mouth singing to her in Sunnydale and missed it when Spike had taken her away. It served him right that she left him for a Chaos demon. Her bright star had gone dim, tarnished by the Slayer. Perhaps she could have chosen better than a Chaos demon, however, since his kisses tasted like snot and he stained everything he touched.

The stars had told Dru her favorite boy in all the world would leave her for the Slayer. Miss Edith always berated her for making her own vision come true by taking up with the Chaos demon. Miss Edith said if Dru hadn't done that, then she would still have her Spike. That was why Miss Edith was back home with her mouth wrapped with the stinky stockings left behind by their new home's former owner. Dru had stashed the woman's shriveled old body in one of Mayfield's crypts. It had been sadly easy to catch her in her garden. She had tasted like dust.

Whether or not she had done it to herself, Dru couldn't say but she was alone in Cleveland. Her boys were missing out on the sweet threnodies purring from the Hellmouth. Even without the Hellmouth she would have liked the city. It was easy to indulge her mutable whims. Everything was a short walk or cab ride away. Spike had taught her how easy cabs were to use and Dru took advantage of them. Sometimes she even paid.

If she wanted young and exuberant, there was Case Western Reserve University to hunt in; if she wanted artistic she could eat in Coventry; if she wanted spicy, there was Mayfield Heights's Little Italy section; if she wanted a little alcohol and drugs with her meal, she could hit the Flats down by the river and if she wanted rich food there was Shaker Heights.

Tonight she felt like artist so she was in Coventry trying to decide if she wanted an actor, a street performer or a poet from one of the coffee houses. She always did well with poets. Dru froze on the way to the coffee house seeing a familiar golden mane. Dru growled like a cat, wanting to show her true face but resisted. A pain fluttered in her unbeating heart; two pains one for each of the boys this mere wisp of a girl had stolen. Dru tasted the bitter wine of hatred and came back for more.

She watched the Slayer leave the Hunan restaurant with her pack of friends. It would be too quick to kill her. Dru's fun would be over before it even began. Dru's bright eyes followed them as they walked the streets. The dark haired kitten was with the Slayer. He had battle scars now, this boy she had once loved so fiercely she had taken on Daddy over him. An ugly patch hid one eye. Dru wondered if it had tasted succulent like oysters to the person who had claimed it. She licked her lips at the thought, watching them disappear into the Winking Lizard Tavern.

The Slayer had taken her boys. Dru would take the Slayers. Oh yes, this would be a very fun game indeed.

* * *

Xander shivered against the crisp night air. It was March. Shouldn't Spring be right around the corner? He couldn't tell it from the winds howling through the tunnel created by the tall buildings in Cleveland's Flats district. It was nearly three in the morning and yet there was a considerable crowd still milling about. Even the thin layer of ice that coated everything did little to deter them.

It was doing everything to deter him. Why couldn't the Hellmouth be in Orlando? He was a southern California boy, born and bred, and his blood was way too thin for the chill that shrouded the Mistake by the Lake. He had hated the United Kingdom for the same reason. He had wanted to come back to the States now that they had rounded up most of the new Slayers and had moved on the next stage; training them and rebuilding the Council. Xander hadn't been able to tell Giles how honored he was that he had been selected to be one the new wave of Watchers. Sure it meant lots of book work, but that kept his mind off missing Anya and the other losses since Sunnydale, like Andrew, Rona and Kennedy to a particularly nasty demon in Italy. Willow was still numb but no signs of black hair, thankfully.

Only he wondered what was worse, being a high school librarian as a Watcher or the gig he got stuck with, bartending in the Flats. He felt like a glorified Willie. The Flats were, however, a hotbed of demon activity but it was hard to tell demons from the human freak show. Still, he did point Buffy and the other Slayer that were with them in Cleveland, in the right direction a number of times in the last several weeks.

There were times he wished he could just be paid out of the Council's vast pockets, all the more plentiful now with far less Watchers draining it, just so he wouldn't go home with sore feet, smelling of booze and smoke. Giles, now Council Head in Travers's place, had come up with the idea of supplement pay for Watchers and Slayers and for the time being they were all living together in a small apartment complex bought out by the Council. That gave everyone their own home with privacy yet kept them together. The youngest girls lived with their Watcher or their parents, if the parents actually knew and were supportive. The youngest Slayers lived no where near a Hellmouth. The method cut down on the risk of civilians. Xander could get behind that.

"Little kitten." A thin voice like silk on skin sounded just behind him. Xander turned and found himself staring into big blue eyes set in a heart shaped face. "Do you remember making me love you? I'm here to return the favor."

Xander tried to yell out 'Drusilla' as if Buffy or anyone was around to hear him then he no longer cared. He was caught in a beautiful sea of blue. It waved over him, lapping him, carrying away his fear. He felt love, perfect love, a love that made what he felt for Anya seem like nothing. He smiled at Drusilla. No wonder both Angel and Spike had wanted her, loved her for a hundred

years. She was like a dark, delicate flower. Why had he been so afraid of her love back in Sunnydale? He remembered running from her, for once in his life grateful Angelus had been

around to distract her. Xander had been utterly foolish but that was true often enough.

"Do you live somewhere nearby, Drusilla? Can I take you there?" Xander babbled, wondering why he sounded so lame. Did he always sound this unworthy? How had Anya put up with him? Why would Drusilla have any interest in a lump like him?

She smiled sweetly. "I'll show you."

Her hand, cool and soft, slipped into his. Her nails were perfectly manicured, brilliant red with stark white tips. Not since Cordy moved to L.A. had he seen such gorgeous hands.

He felt like a king leading his queen through the slushy dirty back streets of the Flats as he took Dru to his car. By the time she had him on the road to Cleveland Heights, Buffy and the Slayers were the furthest thing from his mind, even though when they finally got to her home, it was only a few blocks form the Slayer complex. Irony? An innocent mistake? Tempting fate?

Dru led him inside. The place didn't match her. It looked like Granny. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was thinking that Dru must have killed the owner of this tiny home but he couldn't make himself care. Hadn't Anya slain thousands? He had overlooked that, a detail Buffy had once used to beat him with. How could Spike have left this sweet rose? Just looking at her made him think of poetry, something years worth of English teachers had never been able to do.

Dru took both of his hands, walking backwards, leading him to her bedroom. The signs of the former occupant had been removed. Xander instinctively knew the dolls were Dru's. He wondered briefly where she had gotten so many of them. Dozens of them crammed every available space excluding the bed. Only one doll rested on the pillows, a nylon tied over her head. He wondered about that but decided that wasn't his worry.

"See what I brought home to play with, Miss Edith? Isn't he sweet?" Dru picked up the doll then her pretty features twisted in a scowl. "You don't think so? Fine, then you don't get to watch." Dru set the doll in the dresser, facing her toward the wall.

Dru pushed Xander down on the bed then trailed her fingers over his brow. His skin quivered under the sensual touch. Her beautifully manicured finger traced his lip and his cock twitched. Dru pressed him back against the soft mattress, straddling him. She nipped his chin. "I can see the poetry in your face."

He ached for her to bite him. He had to feel her teeth in his skin, the cool press of her lips. He needed to feel his blood passing into her. She removed his eye patch and he reached for it self-consciously. She caught his fingers. She kissed around the empty orb and he didn't feel like some kind of a monstrosity missing what every good face needed. His pulse quickened as her lips trailed down his face to his neck. When she finally bit him, it was better than any orgasm he had ever had.