Thicker than water;
by, meee!!
Disclaimer: I own nothing...only, and I mean only, Courtney. Apart from some teachers, friends from school..eeech.
Sum: Answer to a chalange by Gidgetgirl. What if "the key" didn't have the major plot line in Buffy. But, was actually a
big plotline for Angel? When the monks send the oringinal big ball of energy to two of ther most deadly vampires in the world,
in a form of a thirteen year old daughter. Courtney.
Notes: This is a somewhat form of Real Me, set in Courtney's point of view, only set in AU season five of Angel.
SPIKE AND DRU:
requirements:
Spike, Dru, and the key-child must make an odd kind of family, where Spike oscillates back and forth from "evil vampire" to a
"young lady" kind of mode where he is overprotective. Dru must like playing house and mummy to the child.
The child must sneak out.
The child may have vampiric powers.
The child may have visions.
Authors Note: Now, I'm still working on my NOES story, I promise. I really will try too. But, its midnight and I found this...
and I was inspired. Sue me!
WARNING: Not does this story have violence, and swearing, it also deals with slight subjects of 'girly-issues.' Offended,
don't read it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Dear Diary,
Dad. Is. Annoying! I'm thirteen, not five years old! But, does he ever listen? No. Why? Because, in his demented mind, I'm
still his little girl. Thirteen! I'm in seventh grade now! And he will not let me go to the school dances because boy's will
be there. )
Spike let a already shorted cigarette fall onto the ground of the apartment complex. A rather nice one, at that.His
full pale pink lips together in a James-Dean-sort of pout, his high cheek bones flex into his strong, normally sullen, though
now firm facial features. His cool gray eyes look into this teenager girl infront of him. He wore a tight black, shirt sleaved
shirt, his usual, though for some reason he took a fancy to jeans. They were comfortable. A black belt held his black, he's not a
light colored person, faded jeans that almost resembled a very dark gray, in place, with a silver clear belt buckle. His black spiked
boots crushed the cigeratte onto the hardwood tile of the mini-sized kitchen, and squished it. Never leaving his firm set eyes
off the girl, he blinks only once.
"No." He says firmly, his dark eye brows raised. The girl infront of him, that wore a pair of tan capre's, white flip
flops with a little flower on the toe parts, and a white tank top, with a tan see through silk vest over it. With her arms folded
against her thin chest, her wavy, dark strawberry blonde hair in a french braid, she narrows her brown eye brows as she lowers her
dark, curly, long eyelashes at her father. "Why?" She more states, than asks, firmly. As if chalanging her father with her expression
rather than action.
Spike fills the gap from him and the homronal-bomb-shell of a daughter, and points his index finger, which was pail,
and on his nail was some worn out, chipping black nail polish, at her, as he bent down some, though not too much. "You listen 'ere,
young lady," be begines one of his tiring speeches, which he must never get old of, "I'm not 'aving my baby girl goin' to some dance--
thing, so she could possibly get sozzled, or being taken advantage of by some silly sod of a boy!" He says, mentally his stomache
rolls at the idea. He should of knewn this day would come, but he hadn't hoped for it. "I know what boys in yer' age group like...
and sure as hell wouldn't like 'em lookin' at you." He streighted up, lowering his hands to his sides.
Courtney rolled her own gray eyes, and sucked in her own very high cheek bones. She put a small, skin hand on her
hip bone, as she looked up at her fater. Giving up her strong superious stance, she slouchers, and softly whimpers. Her brittish
accent matching his own, though not as heavy.
"Daddy!" She half whines, bouncing a little in place. her bottom lip jutted out. Another voice fills the room, a feminine,
soft brittish one, yes another one, as hands slowly worked their way up his broad shoulders, thend down, fingers lingering sensualy on
his muscled arms. "No yelling.." Drusilla says, leaning into Spikes ear, softly growling seductively.
( Mum is a little better, but, she still thinks of me as a baby, everyone thinks I'm the baby still! It's not right..)
"My little princes.." Drusilla says silkenly, a slow, yet caring grin spreads apon on her face. Bouncing in place, she slowly
tip toes toward her petite daughter, putting a caring hand on her small head. "Princess want to have a tea party..Mis.Edith and Miss.Victoria
may not come, though.." absentmindedly, Dru's hazel eyes drift off to the ceiling of the pent house of sorts. Not even apartment. Rather nice,
even though the money was all from Spike and Drusilla's victims wallets.
( And I over exagerate? )
-TBC-
Note: I wanted to show S/D's relationship to the kiddo, next chapter its when she meets Angel...and Wesley..muahaa.
by, meee!!
Disclaimer: I own nothing...only, and I mean only, Courtney. Apart from some teachers, friends from school..eeech.
Sum: Answer to a chalange by Gidgetgirl. What if "the key" didn't have the major plot line in Buffy. But, was actually a
big plotline for Angel? When the monks send the oringinal big ball of energy to two of ther most deadly vampires in the world,
in a form of a thirteen year old daughter. Courtney.
Notes: This is a somewhat form of Real Me, set in Courtney's point of view, only set in AU season five of Angel.
SPIKE AND DRU:
requirements:
Spike, Dru, and the key-child must make an odd kind of family, where Spike oscillates back and forth from "evil vampire" to a
"young lady" kind of mode where he is overprotective. Dru must like playing house and mummy to the child.
The child must sneak out.
The child may have vampiric powers.
The child may have visions.
Authors Note: Now, I'm still working on my NOES story, I promise. I really will try too. But, its midnight and I found this...
and I was inspired. Sue me!
WARNING: Not does this story have violence, and swearing, it also deals with slight subjects of 'girly-issues.' Offended,
don't read it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Dear Diary,
Dad. Is. Annoying! I'm thirteen, not five years old! But, does he ever listen? No. Why? Because, in his demented mind, I'm
still his little girl. Thirteen! I'm in seventh grade now! And he will not let me go to the school dances because boy's will
be there. )
Spike let a already shorted cigarette fall onto the ground of the apartment complex. A rather nice one, at that.His
full pale pink lips together in a James-Dean-sort of pout, his high cheek bones flex into his strong, normally sullen, though
now firm facial features. His cool gray eyes look into this teenager girl infront of him. He wore a tight black, shirt sleaved
shirt, his usual, though for some reason he took a fancy to jeans. They were comfortable. A black belt held his black, he's not a
light colored person, faded jeans that almost resembled a very dark gray, in place, with a silver clear belt buckle. His black spiked
boots crushed the cigeratte onto the hardwood tile of the mini-sized kitchen, and squished it. Never leaving his firm set eyes
off the girl, he blinks only once.
"No." He says firmly, his dark eye brows raised. The girl infront of him, that wore a pair of tan capre's, white flip
flops with a little flower on the toe parts, and a white tank top, with a tan see through silk vest over it. With her arms folded
against her thin chest, her wavy, dark strawberry blonde hair in a french braid, she narrows her brown eye brows as she lowers her
dark, curly, long eyelashes at her father. "Why?" She more states, than asks, firmly. As if chalanging her father with her expression
rather than action.
Spike fills the gap from him and the homronal-bomb-shell of a daughter, and points his index finger, which was pail,
and on his nail was some worn out, chipping black nail polish, at her, as he bent down some, though not too much. "You listen 'ere,
young lady," be begines one of his tiring speeches, which he must never get old of, "I'm not 'aving my baby girl goin' to some dance--
thing, so she could possibly get sozzled, or being taken advantage of by some silly sod of a boy!" He says, mentally his stomache
rolls at the idea. He should of knewn this day would come, but he hadn't hoped for it. "I know what boys in yer' age group like...
and sure as hell wouldn't like 'em lookin' at you." He streighted up, lowering his hands to his sides.
Courtney rolled her own gray eyes, and sucked in her own very high cheek bones. She put a small, skin hand on her
hip bone, as she looked up at her fater. Giving up her strong superious stance, she slouchers, and softly whimpers. Her brittish
accent matching his own, though not as heavy.
"Daddy!" She half whines, bouncing a little in place. her bottom lip jutted out. Another voice fills the room, a feminine,
soft brittish one, yes another one, as hands slowly worked their way up his broad shoulders, thend down, fingers lingering sensualy on
his muscled arms. "No yelling.." Drusilla says, leaning into Spikes ear, softly growling seductively.
( Mum is a little better, but, she still thinks of me as a baby, everyone thinks I'm the baby still! It's not right..)
"My little princes.." Drusilla says silkenly, a slow, yet caring grin spreads apon on her face. Bouncing in place, she slowly
tip toes toward her petite daughter, putting a caring hand on her small head. "Princess want to have a tea party..Mis.Edith and Miss.Victoria
may not come, though.." absentmindedly, Dru's hazel eyes drift off to the ceiling of the pent house of sorts. Not even apartment. Rather nice,
even though the money was all from Spike and Drusilla's victims wallets.
( And I over exagerate? )
-TBC-
Note: I wanted to show S/D's relationship to the kiddo, next chapter its when she meets Angel...and Wesley..muahaa.