Big fan of this crazy lady! Juliet Landau did such a great job as Drusilla. She's so ethereal and creepy in the best way.
I was so proud of the version of this that I drew back in 2017, and now I'm proud again of this 2025 redraw (I posted the comparison in this post). The original is discounted in my Etsy shop, and I'll be adding prints and stickers of the redraw soon!
i think the funniest way spuffsilla could happen is in post-canon, spuffy is together, and drusilla just like. shows up on their doorstep. and they take her in bc she promises to be good and not kill or terrorize anyone and idk maybe she’s hurt or something too.
and buffy’s in the weirdest limbo of her life. she knows that spike loves her more than anything in the world. but he’s also falling into old habits with dru and so a part of buffy is like “fuck, is he regressing? are we done?”
and spike knows buffy’s not comfortable and is trying to make it better. but he can’t not take care of dru, it’s what he did for a century. so he’s just floundering about trying to make everyone happy.
meanwhile, dru is delighted to be hanging out with william and his sunshine. they’re like a family! she’s not quite sure why the slayer won’t cuddle with her or why she still treats her like a threat, or why her william acts like he’s expecting everything to crash down, but she figures they’re both just being silly and makes herself at home anyway.
then one night spike is called away and dru takes her chance to strike. when he comes back, dru is fully on buffy’s lap, arms wrapped around her, purring loud enough to wake the neighbors. smiling big and sweet like the cat who got the canary. and buffy is absolutely covered in red lipstick stains and hickeys.
later on spike asks buffy what the hell happened and she has to be like “from the bottom of my heart idk. but i think there’s three of us in this relationship now.”
And I’m still really mad that they set up all these mirrors between Drusilla and Buffy and then it amounted to nothing.
I’m sure there must have been bigger reasons behind why the story went the way it did. But I mean there was so much and Drusilla was totally being set up as a serious big big bad. Buffy had a nightmare where Dru KILLED Angel! That’s how much of a threat she was to her.
But then it kind of became the Spike/Angel show and then when Dru and Spike escaped they broke up and only Spike came back and poor Dru who had so much villainous potential just faded away.
The only positive thing is knowing Dru outlived all these fools and is probably moonbathing in Mexico somewhere with a host of minions doing her bidding for her x
It’s always hot at The Bronze; the air always full of energy and radiating heat from warm human bodies. But tonight it feels different. It’s hotter than usual. The band is playing an upbeat set, young adults dancing and mingling. Everyone can feel it in their bones. It’s deafening, electric, and enchanting. Most nights The Bronze feels like Lotus Island, where time stops and you can never leave. Well, only for its charm to be cruelly interrupted by a demon or other, and more often than not Buffy and her friends. There’s a group of high school boys playing pool and a few college-aged frat boys doing handstand kegs with the bitter beer, trying to show off to highly impressionable high school girls (which everyone should agree is weird). The Bronze seems to be even fuller today since it’s the last day of school for all—if not most—Sunnydale students.
It’s illogical how much time these teens spend in the club: on week days, on school nights, underage drinking and causing unnecessary drama. This is indeed the perfect place to hunt. But… tonight, with sweaty bodies and the charging energy that spells danger in the air, you aren’t hunting. You are pressed against the wall in a dark corner, Spike’s mouth devouring yours, and your fingers tugging at his white hair, pulling him closer with low animalistic growls. Spike’s hands are all over you, groping your hips and thighs, pushing his body into yours. You don’t need oxygen, you are already dead, yet you are gasping for air as if you truly need it. He kisses your jaw, biting and dragging his mouth down the column of your throat, hand swiftly unbuttoning your shorts and shoving into your panties.
“You’re so easy, kitten.” Spike purrs as his fingers card through your slit, finding the wetness that has gathered there. You grab his face, kiss him and he moans, a cocky grin forming on his lips against yours. He presses the tips of his fingers over your clit and starts to rub instantly, making you part from the kiss and whine, your knees bucking slightly at the contact. Spike laughs and covers your mouth with a hand. “Shhh~ Bloody hell, you’re so loud. Let me enjoy the music, pretty, yes?”
From across in the oblivious dancing bodies, a pair of eyes is glued on you. You aren’t quite easily visible to the rest where you are, but to these eyes that can see under the dark masking veils of human ignorance you are a clear picture. He moves swiftly through the crowd, never losing sight of the way your face twitches, his ears catching the small moans and whimpers leaving you which are imperceptible to human ears under the vibrating music. Watches the way you look at dear, foolish Spike, and how your eyes drift to the crowd, falling instantly on He the witness: Angel.
His eyes are almost black, the red lighting of the club casting a severe hue of shadows over his face. Angel’s gaze commands yours to stay locked with his as Spike fucks his fingers into you, deliciously targetting your pleasure spot. Angel never stops looking and it sends a thrill through you, making you rock your hips faster on Spike’s hand until you’re seeing stars. “There you go, sweetheart.” Spike moans into your ear, making your attention snap back to him, your body thrumming and mind swimming with the aftereffects of your orgasm. You grab Spike’s chin and smash your lips against his, kissing harshly and biting down on his lower lip until he grabs your neck. “Careful pet.” Spike’s hand slips out from your underwear and he buttons your jean shorts back up as you apologize.
“I’ll go clean up quickly.” You tell him and wrap your arms around his neck. “Then we can take this back home?”
“You’re insatiable.” He huffs, “Go on. Hurry along then, pet.”
You kiss him quickly before hurrying off to the bathroom. You enter a stall and clean up the stickiness between your legs, your mind flashing to Angel’s eyes. He looked like he could devour you with his gaze alone. You knew Spike despised the guy. First it was because he had regained his soul and was a whinny, goody-two-shoes, and now because he was back to his old self and too much to handle. He even went as far as to seduce Spike’s ex-girlfriend, causing their embarrassing breakup in Brazil. Or so he says. Spike has learned not to whine about Drusilla, but she’s still a sore topic that never truly dies. Honestly, however, you don’t complain; he fucks you good.
The hinges of the door to the bathroom cry a high pitched squeak, cutting through your thoughts. You hear a few steps so you finish up quickly and exit the stall. As you wash your hands in the sink, the stall next to the one you used swings open, no figure visible in the mirror. You turn and stumble back against the counter as Angel towers over you, too close for comfort, his hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted as he looks you up and down as if assessing you.
“So, I finally get to meet Spikey’s new girl.” He starts as he crowds you against the sink. “I find it so very hurtful that he wouldn’t introduce us properly. See? He’s like a brother. A very invasive, weak, back-stabbing, bitchy kind of brother, but a brother in hell nonetheless. We’ve gone through so much, and yet I only get to see you in passing. Don’t you find it rude?”
Your brow raises suspiciously, “Yeah… Sure. You can take the complaint to him.”
As you start to slip past him, he grabs your arm and pushes you back against the counter again. “How are you enjoying being his bed wench?”
“Excuse me?” You curt.
“Oh, I’m sorry. How are you enjoying warming Spike’s bed?”
You scoff and try to move past him again, “Go fuck yourself!”
Angel yanks you back again, his other hand dropping to your hip, thumb brushing under the hem of your shirt. “You are sorely mistaken if you genuinely think Spike has gotten over Dru.”
“And you’re wrong if you think you can make me feel jealous of Spike’s psycho ex.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it, sweety.” He reaches to touch a strand of your hair and pulls it to his nose.
“You’re a creep.” You murmur.
“Is that why you got off to me watching you with Spike?”
You look away, the rouge of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “I didn’t ‘get off.’”
He grabs your chin and tilts your face up to meet his eyes. “I like a liar,” Angel leans in and your eyes instantly close, your heart skipping a beat, but then, you feel his breath hit your face with a breathy huff of laughter. “And you’re a terrible one.”
Angel lets go of your chin and you open your eyes, glaring bloody murder at him. “Asshole.” You shove him and make it to one, two, three steps past him before Angel grabs your hair and pulls you back towards himself. With a surprised yelp you crash into his chest, but your scream gets cut short by Angel’s mouth on yours, his other arm snaking around your waist. You push against him at first, but his arm tightens around you while the hand in your hair presses you harder against his mouth. Angel shoves his tongue past your lips, forcing your mouth open. His invading tongue is warm against yours, tasting you like he’s hungry. His groan sends a wave of heat down your spine, your stomach fluttering. Like a primal awakening, the music still beating against the walls kindred to the heartbeat in your chest, you fist the front of Angel’s shirt and push him against the wall, kissing back feverishly, your tongue licking into his mouth, and teeth biting Angel’s lip hard enough to make him bleed. Your hands slide down his torso and move between your bodies to expertly undo his belt and unzip him.
“Fucking, tease.” Angel puffs, letting go of your hair and moving his hands behind your thighs to pull you up. He carries you to the counter and places you down before attacking your mouth again and wrapping a hand around your neck. Angel shoves his body between your legs to grind his hips against yours and moans, forcing you to rest back against the mirror. You’re both panting as he kisses your chest and moves down. He rolls your shirt up above your breasts and grins at the sight of your bra. “Spikey needs to get you better lingerie, sweety. This is boring.”
“I don’t dress for him.”
“Blah, blah.” Angel pulls the cups down and instantly attaches his mouth to one of your nipples, his hand leaving your neck and moving to grip your other breast. You moan, arching against his mouth as he sucks on your nipple while rubbing the other one with his fingers. You roll your hips up against Angel’s, seeking for some sort of relief, but he places a hand on your lower stomach, pressing down to keep you still. “No, no, you don’t get to fuck yourself on me, darling.”
Angel moves his mouth again to your breast, this time biting down on the globe making you yelp and shove his face back, “Why did you do that? You’re gonna leave a mark!”
“That’s the point, smartass.” He slaps your hand away and goes back down to leave a trail of hickeys and harsh bites on your breasts and stomach, branding you with teeth marks while rolling his hips against yours, groaning as his cock hardens and engorges. You whine, squirming under Angel’s ministrations, thighs clenching hard to try and ease the ache there. “Shit…” Angel drawls out as he breathes in, the smell of your arousal thick in the air. He licks a trail up your torso and captures your mouth, his hands moving to undo the button of your shorts. You lift your hips and Angel takes the chance to pull your shorts and panties down.
“Don’t let the underwear touch the floor!” You blurt out quickly, and he gives you a sharp glare and pulls both garments from around your ankles. Angel shoves your panties into the pocket of his pants and places your shorts on the counter. “What the hell do you think you’re doing–” You start but he grabs the backs of your knees and pulls you to the edge of the counter making you squawk and hurriedly grab onto the edge. Angel pushes your legs apart, and growls deeply at the sight of the shiny sheen of sleek there. He reaches out and runs his fingers through your folds, soaking his fingers thoroughly, your face heating up at the obscene amount of slick leaking from you. “Huh, Spike was right, sweety, you are easy.” Before you can argue he presses his thumb to your clit and starts to rub, making you gasp and your stomach tense. Angel angles his hand and dips the tip of his finger into your soaping hole. He laughs as you clench around practically nothing and finally sinks his finger inside you, pushing past the fluttering muscles. When you mewl he murmurs, adding another finger, “Whore.”
“Jerk.” You pant.
“You need better insults than that to offend me, darling.”
You whine as Angel moves his fingers faster, hitting your g-spot incessantly. He grabs your hip tightly when he feels you move against his hand. “You really are insatiable.” Angel clicks his tongue in disapproval. “I find myself agreeing with your boyfriend a little too much, and I don’t like it.” Slipping his fingers out of you, Angel hauls you off of the counter and turns you around so your back is pressed to his front, and for the first time since losing your soul you wish you could see your reflection in the mirror. Angel presses down on your back so you bend over the sink while he slips his cock out of his boxers, the member straining, twitching and leaking in his palm. He guides himself between your folds, sliding his dick up and down to gather your juices, only to then slip the tip inside you and give short, teasing thrusts. Angel can feel your hole pucker around the head of his cock and clench, trying to drag him inside you. He laughs and you groan in frustration. “Move!” You demand, moving your ass back against him to force him to slide into your cunt.
Angel hisses and moves the hand at your back to your hair to yank hard and ram into you in one sharp thrust, making the air leave your lungs. The irony of it. “Fucking stay still, slut!” He drills into you mercilessly, your hips slamming harshly against the side of the counter, sure to leave nasty bruises there while the smacking of your ass against his navel echoes in the dingy, dirty bathroom. Every thrust seems to follow the rhythm of the music, plap–plap–plap–Angel moans and pulls at your hair, making your arch harshly. You cry out, your eyes stinging with a mixture of pain and pleasure. The way he thrusts and the music beats, you can almost feel your heart in your throat. Angel leans down and brushes your hair to the side before sinking his teeth into the back of your neck. You mewl, cunt clenching around him. Angel’s fingers dig into your hip, his nails leaving blooming welts behind. He hurries his thrusts, fucking into your most sensitive spot just to hear you moan louder, his breathing and grunts harsh. Your slick is mixing with Angel’s pre-cum, a creamy ring forming around the base of his cock. He curses against your neck then licks a stripe up your spine as his hand moves from your hip to the valley of your thighs. You’re a mess, dripping all over as Angel finds your clit in more punishing stimulation. He tugs and pinches, making you keen and let out broken moans, finally—finally—letting you fuck yourself back against him, moaning more curses at the feeling of you bouncing back on his cock.
Quickening his ministrations on your clit, Angel feels you tense and whine, your mouth parting against the counter, drooling, and babbling pleas until a heat wave rushes through you. He groans and presses his forehead against your back as your cunt clenches tightly around him and pulses. Angel continues to thrust as you gush around him, prolonging your orgasm to chase his own. “Yes- Oh, fuck- Fuck! Take it–” He presses himself deep inside you, hips bucking as his cock spurts against your sensitive cervix.
Your panting breaths fill the bathroom, the music outside having shifted to a rock ballad. You hadn’t realized when it changed. Angel moves his hand to your breasts and pulls you up against his chest, his fingers rolling and teasing your nipples. He kisses your neck, mouth opening to let his fangs drag over your skin. He gives a few short thrusts into you, making you snivel from overstimulation. He coos at you with mocking condisention, “You’re such a good fucking slut, sweety. If only you could see yourself.”
Angel guides you to hold on to the sink and then slides out of you, his cock beginning to soften. He tucks himself back into his pants then grabs the jean shorts from the counter and kneels down to help you put them on. Angel presses behind you as he pulls them up around your waist. “Tell Spike I send my love.” He chuckles and kisses your jaw once your shorts are buttoned and zipped up. You turn your head to look at Angel and say something, maybe to argue with him and try to salvage your pride, but you find that he’s gone.
“Son of a bitch!”
Well… You were fucked; physically and figuratively.
Note:
I decided to post this as a continuation of Kinktober 2025, unfortunately very belated. However I enjoy the challenge of writing things I never have before and I figured I have free will, I can write for Kinktober even if it's not October. This is my first BTVS fic. I hope I did a good job channeling Spike and (evil) Angel's personalities.
