Ficlet: It's A Christmas Miracle!, R, Spike/Drusilla
Title: It's A Christmas Miracle!
Author: Laure Alexander
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Drusilla
Warnings: A bit of smuttiness, language
Disclaimer: Nothing about BtVS belongs to me; it's all Joss; I'm just playing with his characters and making them do naughty things.
Distribution: Please ask first. Will be at my site Meandering Muse
Word Count: 986
Summary: Set after the church collapsed on him, Spike isn't recovering and it's Christmas time trapped in a musty basement in Sunnyhell.
Propped up on several pillows, Spike glared at the world--reduced to this one basement room that smelled of dried blood, human fear, dust and mold. Three weeks. Three fucking weeks since that bitch of a Slayer had dropped a church on him, crushing his spine. He still couldn't move anything below the waist.
He couldn't even sit up without help, let alone stand or walk or dance a fucking jig.
Paralyzed.
Vampires didn't get paralyzed!
He should have healed in a day or so. Now that she was strong and healthy, Drusilla'd even let him feed on her in the hope her blood would fix him.
But, nothing helped.
Three weeks ago he'd awakened in this bed to find six hours had passed since the injury and he'd been paralyzed from the waist down, unable to feel anything or twitch as much as a baby toe.
Three weeks later and nothing had changed.
He wasn't healing.
The door at the top of the stone stairs opened and he heard the clatter of her heels before he saw her. Ignoring the whimper of fear from his current blood bag chained on the floor at the foot of the bed--and the irony that less than a month before Angel had been in those chains and maybe his blood could have healed him didn't escape him--he watched Drusilla sweep into the room, a slightly manic smile on her face and glee in her eyes. She was wearing a pretty red dress and a Santa hat on her head.
Oh, right, it was Christmas Eve.
Yay.
Grumbling under his breath about how much he hated everything including Christmas, Spike tried to tune out her greetings and turned his face away from the sight of several of his minions dragging a Christmas tree, boxes of ornaments and lights, and garlands down the stairs.
"Happy Christmas, my love," Drusilla crooned, plopping down on the bed next to him and snuggling her head onto his shoulder. "No, over there," she snapped at the tree-bearing minions in the next breath. "And I want those lights perfectly spaced or I'll string you up on the roof with them to greet Christmas morn."
It was slightly amusing to see hulking Joe-Bob and Kevin, former Sunnydale U wrestlers, cower as they found a ruler and measured the placement of the twinkling lights with their ham-hands.
"You haven't mentioned how much you like my hat."
"It's cute, luv," Spike mumbled, the rolled his eyes when she snapped her fingers and a female minion--a new one and not at all pretty because Drusilla never made pretty minions since she'd just get jealous and end up gutting them anyway--brought her a second hat. "No."
"Come on, my Spike. For me?"
Sighing heavily, he let her place the thing on his head, mollified only a little when she gave him a sweet kiss that tasted of mulled wine. "Got any more of that drink?"
Another finger snap and they were being served goblets of the stuff mixed with blood. They drank and watched as the decorations were pulled out of boxes and held up for Drusilla's approval. Not that he cared, really, but finally, she asked his opinion.
"Should we have a star or an angel a top the tree?"
That made him scowl again. "What do you think?"
Drusilla gave him a pout, then rose to her feet and crossed to the tree. Knocking the angel out of Joe-Bob's hands, she crushed it beneath her stiletto heel, then pushed Kevin to his hands and knees and climbed on his back to place a shining gold star on top of the surprisingly well-lit tree.
"Thank you, mistress," the minion groaned as she left holes in his back from her pointy shoes.
"While you're down there, put on the tree-skirt and decorate the lower branches. Balls interspersed evenly with ribbons, and where's the popcorn and cranberries for stringing?"
"Um, Deb and Jake are doing it upstairs," offered a cowering Lucien.
"Tell them to hurry and I don't want any broken pieces or uneven strands."
He scampered away. Spike found it amusing that he looked like he'd nearly wet himself at her snarling.
At that thought, Spike was finally interested enough to turn his attention to the tree. He did enjoy Drusilla giving orders and terrifying the minions, and, he had to admit, the tree did look good. The last several years, when she'd been so sick, he'd had to decorate it himself, and it had never looked so good. Damn things never did stand up straight for him and the lights were only ever half lit, no matter how many times he replaced them with new ones.
Sipping his wine/blood, he felt the cottony ball on the hat brush his cheek, and scowled cross-eyed at it, but then watched the one on her hat bob with her every movement, and...
There was a tingle in his groin.
Eyes widening in surprise, he spit wine down his front and didn't even care when Drusilla gave him a concerned look.
"Do you need help?"
The tingle became a twitch.
"Everyone but Dru out," he bellowed.
Her concern turned to a look of bafflement as the minions, knowing who was still and really boss, thundered up the stairs, leaving the tree half-decorated and only one stocking hung and a pile of garland on the floor.
With a trembling, eager hand, Spike set down the goblet and beckoned to her. "Come here, luv."
"Are you okay?" Worried, Drusilla swayed towards him, head cocked to one side. Then her eyes fell to his lap and her eyes widened.
There was a tent in the light-weight blanket.
"Is that...?"
Spike beamed. "It's a fucking Christmas miracle."
She was close enough for him to grab and drag down on top of him. Drusilla squealed in surprise and delight and smothered his face with kisses.
End
Author: Laure Alexander
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Drusilla
Warnings: A bit of smuttiness, language
Disclaimer: Nothing about BtVS belongs to me; it's all Joss; I'm just playing with his characters and making them do naughty things.
Distribution: Please ask first. Will be at my site Meandering Muse
Word Count: 986
Summary: Set after the church collapsed on him, Spike isn't recovering and it's Christmas time trapped in a musty basement in Sunnyhell.
Propped up on several pillows, Spike glared at the world--reduced to this one basement room that smelled of dried blood, human fear, dust and mold. Three weeks. Three fucking weeks since that bitch of a Slayer had dropped a church on him, crushing his spine. He still couldn't move anything below the waist.
He couldn't even sit up without help, let alone stand or walk or dance a fucking jig.
Paralyzed.
Vampires didn't get paralyzed!
He should have healed in a day or so. Now that she was strong and healthy, Drusilla'd even let him feed on her in the hope her blood would fix him.
But, nothing helped.
Three weeks ago he'd awakened in this bed to find six hours had passed since the injury and he'd been paralyzed from the waist down, unable to feel anything or twitch as much as a baby toe.
Three weeks later and nothing had changed.
He wasn't healing.
The door at the top of the stone stairs opened and he heard the clatter of her heels before he saw her. Ignoring the whimper of fear from his current blood bag chained on the floor at the foot of the bed--and the irony that less than a month before Angel had been in those chains and maybe his blood could have healed him didn't escape him--he watched Drusilla sweep into the room, a slightly manic smile on her face and glee in her eyes. She was wearing a pretty red dress and a Santa hat on her head.
Oh, right, it was Christmas Eve.
Yay.
Grumbling under his breath about how much he hated everything including Christmas, Spike tried to tune out her greetings and turned his face away from the sight of several of his minions dragging a Christmas tree, boxes of ornaments and lights, and garlands down the stairs.
"Happy Christmas, my love," Drusilla crooned, plopping down on the bed next to him and snuggling her head onto his shoulder. "No, over there," she snapped at the tree-bearing minions in the next breath. "And I want those lights perfectly spaced or I'll string you up on the roof with them to greet Christmas morn."
It was slightly amusing to see hulking Joe-Bob and Kevin, former Sunnydale U wrestlers, cower as they found a ruler and measured the placement of the twinkling lights with their ham-hands.
"You haven't mentioned how much you like my hat."
"It's cute, luv," Spike mumbled, the rolled his eyes when she snapped her fingers and a female minion--a new one and not at all pretty because Drusilla never made pretty minions since she'd just get jealous and end up gutting them anyway--brought her a second hat. "No."
"Come on, my Spike. For me?"
Sighing heavily, he let her place the thing on his head, mollified only a little when she gave him a sweet kiss that tasted of mulled wine. "Got any more of that drink?"
Another finger snap and they were being served goblets of the stuff mixed with blood. They drank and watched as the decorations were pulled out of boxes and held up for Drusilla's approval. Not that he cared, really, but finally, she asked his opinion.
"Should we have a star or an angel a top the tree?"
That made him scowl again. "What do you think?"
Drusilla gave him a pout, then rose to her feet and crossed to the tree. Knocking the angel out of Joe-Bob's hands, she crushed it beneath her stiletto heel, then pushed Kevin to his hands and knees and climbed on his back to place a shining gold star on top of the surprisingly well-lit tree.
"Thank you, mistress," the minion groaned as she left holes in his back from her pointy shoes.
"While you're down there, put on the tree-skirt and decorate the lower branches. Balls interspersed evenly with ribbons, and where's the popcorn and cranberries for stringing?"
"Um, Deb and Jake are doing it upstairs," offered a cowering Lucien.
"Tell them to hurry and I don't want any broken pieces or uneven strands."
He scampered away. Spike found it amusing that he looked like he'd nearly wet himself at her snarling.
At that thought, Spike was finally interested enough to turn his attention to the tree. He did enjoy Drusilla giving orders and terrifying the minions, and, he had to admit, the tree did look good. The last several years, when she'd been so sick, he'd had to decorate it himself, and it had never looked so good. Damn things never did stand up straight for him and the lights were only ever half lit, no matter how many times he replaced them with new ones.
Sipping his wine/blood, he felt the cottony ball on the hat brush his cheek, and scowled cross-eyed at it, but then watched the one on her hat bob with her every movement, and...
There was a tingle in his groin.
Eyes widening in surprise, he spit wine down his front and didn't even care when Drusilla gave him a concerned look.
"Do you need help?"
The tingle became a twitch.
"Everyone but Dru out," he bellowed.
Her concern turned to a look of bafflement as the minions, knowing who was still and really boss, thundered up the stairs, leaving the tree half-decorated and only one stocking hung and a pile of garland on the floor.
With a trembling, eager hand, Spike set down the goblet and beckoned to her. "Come here, luv."
"Are you okay?" Worried, Drusilla swayed towards him, head cocked to one side. Then her eyes fell to his lap and her eyes widened.
There was a tent in the light-weight blanket.
"Is that...?"
Spike beamed. "It's a fucking Christmas miracle."
She was close enough for him to grab and drag down on top of him. Drusilla squealed in surprise and delight and smothered his face with kisses.
End