Feedback: PLEASE
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the show's characters. I wish I did though ;)
Description: AU Right after Destiny. Spike and Angel get a blast from the past: Two old friends, Deja and Deliria, come to town to see if the rumors about Angel and Wolfram & Hart are true. Angel is faced with the question of what makes someone really evil. Rated M for violence, gore, bloodplay and graphic sex in future chapters. Please R&R
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The flight had been an absolute drag and Deliria had almost had gotten them found out by not only sleeping with, but also eating two of the stewardesses. Deja was grateful when they arrived at the airport that night. A taxi took them to a nearby hotel and after checking in; Deliria went out to explore the city while Deja invited their handsome cab driver in for "a snack".
Afterwards, she lay in bed, the cab driver's arm still wrapped around her slender body –he would start to die soon, Deja mused, she'd gotten carried away and what she'd meant to be a snack had turned into much more; yet still, she could still feel his erection, raging and throbbing against her smooth thigh. Deja smiled, turned to face her adoring victim and when he smiled back, dazed, still losing blood, her smile became feral; fangs descending, eyes glowing red as she leaned over and licked his neck, where she'd bit him earlier and felt him shudder. He climaxed as the first throes of death caught him, spasming, holding on to Deja tightly as she fed from him, a willing victim till the end. Deja pulled away after she'd drained him, reaching down to dip her finger into the seed he'd spilled over her thigh then bringing that finger to her lips. She smiled and snuggled up to his corpse, drifting off to sleep.
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Deliria had never cared much for the states, let alone a city like L.A. Everyone was loud and blonde, and all looked at her like an outsider with her cascading mane of black hair and black clothing. She found herself going into a local strip bar out of boredom and hunger. She looked around at the patrons of the dimly lit, dingy bar and wrinkled her nose; no one here seemed her taste. Where was a good demon bar when you needed one? Just as she was about to turn around to leave, her eyes focused on a familiar figure seated near the stage. Her luscious lips curled into a half-grin. No way. It couldn't be. Not here. As if he'd heard her, he spoke to one of the waitresses, asking for an onion blossom, whatever that was. His voice was unmistakable. Deliria's grin widened as she walked over to him. Deja was going to regret staying in the hotel room.
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"Oh, and luv?" he called after the waitress, "Keep the rum coming, would ya?" Spike gave her his most charming grin, then turned around to watch the stage but instead came face to face with a woman's torso, directly in front of him. "Oy, pet, might movin' a bit would…" his sentence trailed off as his eyes inspected her, starting from the black doc marten's combat boots, up the fishnet-clad firm thighs, the black mini-skirt that fit snug on her curvy hips, a flash of a taut, milky-white belly and then a Dead Kennedy's t-shirt that fit very snugly over a pair of magnificent tits. His jaw slackened as his eyes roamed up her gorgeous neck and, finally, as he saw her face, realization rendered him speechless.
"You know the funny thing?" she smiled as she got closer, straddled him in the comfy chair. Her bright green eyes were outlined in black and reminded him of a cat and her lush lips were bare, naked. "I wasn't even looking for you yet."
After centuries, he felt the familiar stirring within his pants which signified whenever one of the two sisters was in his close proximity. "Deliria." He said her name softly, reverently, his hands involuntarily coming up to rest on her hips.
She narrowed her eyes, suddenly leaning down to kiss him, catching his bottom lip between powerful incisors, and bit down hard; drawing blood.
"Ow!" he gasped and pulled away, face instinctively switching to demon-form.
At the change, Deliria smiled sweetly, "Oh, there you are, Willy…"
"What the bloody hell was that for?" he growled.
"Ooh, I love it when you're angry," she purred, flipping her hair over her shoulder and hugging him, teasing him by cradling his face in her neck and grinding down on his lap.
"Mmmm…" He sighed, not resisting, growling against her jugular enjoying the scent of her and the feeling it was having over him, enjoying that for a blinding moment it was only she and he in the whole world. And then he remembered who and what she was, and how long it'd been since he'd seen her. He pulled back, face switching back, to look up at her, "Not that I'm not happy to see you, luv, but…" He shuddered as she nibbled on his ear, "What are you doing here?"
She pulled back with a groan, "Well, three days ago, my darling sister wakes me up to announce that she needs to see you. So, I talked to Dru and she told me about you and the Slayer."
Spike cringed.
"And then I found out the Hellmouth was closed and you were here and omigod, does Angelus really run Wolfram & Hart?" she widened her eyes at the last part and Spike was taken aback by how much she embodied the perfect picture of a human teenager. Could've fooled him.
"That is true. Well, only the L.A. branch. Bloke's forgotten what it means to fight the good fight and what not." He rolled his eyes.
She eyed him cautiously, "Yeah? And what do you know about the good fight?"
"I, uh, I saved the world." He smiled, shakily, "Oh, you two didn't hear that, huh? I have a soul now."