stoney321 | Crusilla Fic

Although it sounds shippy, it isn't. Maybe it'll stay that way. They're both pretty lonely...

Continued from here.

Family - The Ties That Bind
Author: Stoney321, beta'd by Crazydiamondsue
Disclaimer: I don't own, make money, or have dinner with the characters from Joss' playpen. I do have coffee with them, but that's between me and my lord.
Rating: It's clean, but Dru can be scary. Don't read this to three year olds. No squicks. Unless damn fine story telling is a squick. O_O
Summary: Set between Season 3 and 4 of AtS. How Connor filled his time while "searching" for his dad. And who found him.

Part Two

Sweet and soft and sugary like candy. She always liked the young ones with their tender flesh, their blood fresh and sweet with a hint of their mother's milk. They stopped the ache she carried inside, the ache for her own child. Becoming a demon should have quelled that, but then, she wasn't like the others. That's why Daddy chose her above all others.

She thought she'd want to make him her baby, but when she touched him, her mouth didn't flood with the taste of peppermints and lollipops. She didn't feel the familiar and cruel ache in her belly - the ache that led to snapping of necks and dressing up dollies. She felt something squeezing her chest, she felt prickers in her eyes, and her arms felt empty. At night, she anticipated his arrival and would sit primly, hands folded in her lap, and wait. She wouldn't hunt out of respect for him. When he did arrive, she didn't feel the need to rock him or taste him. Instead, he would sit next to her, shoulders touching and she would just ... rest. Sometimes Drusilla let her head lay on his shoulder. Her brother - so warm.

*~*~*
Connor walked around the abandoned warehouse for a fourth time. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to sneak away from Fred and Gunn. They always wanted to accompany him when he left to "look for clues about my father." If they knew he was meeting Drusilla, they'd probably stake him, too.

He stood outside the door, felt his heartbeat racing, and forced himself to relax. He knew she was on the other side of the door, watching, feeling him. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, letting her live, but with Holtz gone... He had no one. No one that cared about him. Well, not anymore.

Hand on the door, he took several deep breaths, reminding himself who -what - he was before he opened it. She sat on a crate opposite the door. There were blankets draped over them to protect her delicate dress. While he lay in his bed trying to sleep, he wondered about her delicate clothing. She was a killer, dangerous, but she wore the trappings of a lady. It belied her strength.

The corner of her mouth twitched into a smile when she saw him. He couldn't help but give her a small one in return.

They had met like this twice since their initial meeting on the pier. Usually, they sat in silence, becoming used to one another. Their last meeting, Connor had ventured so far as to ask how old she was.

"Oh, ages."

"No, I guess I mean- how old were you? When he changed you?"

She turned to look him in the eye. Her hand stole into his lap, she twined her fingers in his, said, "I think about your age. Bit older. Big Sister, looking out for Baby Brother."

She smiled, and the hunter had gone away. He didn't feel the hair on his neck creeping up. Holtz's voice was squashed under his sister's steady gaze.

Now they sit, shoulder to shoulder, lost in thought and being near one another for a few hours.

"Musn't stop breathing - you'll end up blue-faced like Daddy."

He didn't realize she had noticed. He would hold his breath when they sat, learning to be as still as she. Always in training - Holtz had taught him well.

"We can smell the sunrise, did he teach you that?"

"You- ? What's it smell like?"

"Hurt." A beat. "Time for you to go back, my Connor. The warrior and her mate will wonder and look for you. Think terrible things, they will."

"The warrior? Fred?" He laughs at the thought.

Drusilla just looks at him, her thumb working back and forth along his slender fingers. "Tick tock tick tock. Time will tell all."

He stands in the doorway, lingering for a moment before turning his head slightly. "Be good. For me?"

"But I'm ever so hungry... What if they are very bad?"

"Drusilla," his voice a warning. "Well, I guess if they are really bad, I don't mind. Once."

Drusilla claps her hands, then stops abruptly, sensing his scorn. She looks solemn and makes a cross over her heart then pinches her lips togther. "Only the most wicked, my love. I'll punish them. I'll be just like Baby Brother. Righteous, I'll be."

He stiffens, then yanks the door open and strides through, missing her more with every step, cursing himself for wanting someone, -thing, he corrects.

But missing her all the same.

She speaks to his retreating back, knowing he can't hear her, but speaking all the same. "What havoc wrought upon a bright one's morals... She was wrong. We love the wicked and the weak, as well as the strong."

TBC... right here

*~*~*~*~*

[ETA] Forgot to give credit for being influenced by the line: "We love the wicked and the weak, as well as the strong" 'Tis inspired from James Merrill's poem, Matinees.

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