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Our Haunts
cafedemonde - Femail's journal
claudia6913 - claudia6913's journal

FIC: Reconstructing Evil, Chapter 58
Missy and I had this one on written years ago and never posted, I don't think. I do believe this is last of the RE chapters that we co-wrote. I'll finish it alone at some point, unless my partner decides to return for a while (hint-hint). Anyway, loads to catch up on if you never read it before or totally forgot.

I hope you enjoy this next bit. Folks are getting a long...sort of.

Reconstructing Evil
by writtenbyfates aka cafedemonde and claudia6913
Pairing: Spike/Drusilla, Spike/Other, Spike/Drusilla/Other, Spike/Dawn
Rating: Adult (NC-17)
Summary: Set Season 5 "Crush.” Dru's come back to reclaim her boy. Just how hard is it to reconstruct and resurrect Spike?
Warnings: Sex, bloodplay, violence, underage - Vampires behaving badly.
Disclaimer: Joss owns all, we but play in the fields of his imagination.
Feedback: Wanted and loved.

If you need a refresher or to catch up, click here.

Thanks for reading RE so far.

Chapter 58

Angel sat on the other side of the flat metal table across from Kate. A small tape recorder lay between them, the only thing on the table aside from Kate’s small hands that were drumming an annoying cadence.

“I shouldn’t be letting you listen to this.”

Frowning, Angel leaned forward. “Why? I’m sure it won’t upset my sensibilities.” It might, but Kate wasn’t concerned about that and they both knew it.

“You have a tendency to go and take out whatever suspects I have. I end up looking crazy to the Chief because there’s never any evidence left. I want evidence.”

He blinked. “Oh … um …”

“Do you have a problem with that?” She was staring at him, in his eyes, looking for some sort of complicity. He looked away.

“No,” Yes. He could stake his childer, maybe … or maybe not, but handing them over to humans was not an option. “It’s just, I’m not sure that you could contain a vampire safely and if it got free, in a police station, a lot of people would die.”

Imagining that scenario, remembering the vampire that Angel had made before and how much damage it had done, Kate nodded. “Okay, just listen and we’ll go from there.”

She picked up the small device and hit play.

"911, what is your emergency?"

The woman's scared and shaking voice echoed in the small, empty room they were in, and for a moment, Angel hopedthat it was something, or someone else that had caused this woman such fright. But then, he heard it. The unmistakable voice of his Drusilla and her ilk. He closed his eyes, hiding his shame, as well as the bit of pride that crept up from that dark place inside him.

The call went on for about another ten minutes or so, Garrison playing with the 911 operator, screams, death, laughter ... he heard it all and could easily imagine the scene with in the house without having ever seen it himself.

Finally, the tape clicked to a stop and he heard Kate's chair move as she leaned forward. Still, he didn't open his eyes.

"You know who they are," she said, matter-of-fact. It was not a question; she knew all too well how easily Angel tended to avoid direct questions. Instead, she assumed, made a statement, and took the facts from his demeanor. And his body language was telling her, screaming to her, that he knew the assailants.

"Who are they? Who is the woman, the one with the accent?"

"Drusilla," Angel said after a long moment, and swallowed thickly.

Kate sighed. “Yeah, I know that. The guy is Garrison, the girl is Drusilla or Dru. How do you know them?”

Angel shook his head, pushed his chair back from the table and stood. Watching warily, Kate placed her hands under the table and out of his view, but he could hear her, the tiny click of her removing the safety from her weapon anyway.

“Where are you going, Angel?” She stood, not lifting her gun, but ready to do so.

He glanced at the gun, and started to pace, unconcerned. “I …” he started, but stopped short. Telling her, she is my greatest and most terrible creation seemed a bit dramatic. Yet that was exactly what she was. A many times worse than Penn, Drusilla and Spike together would toy with Kate without mercy. Because knew that the cop in her was dogmatic enough to pursue them, despite every warning he might give, he decided, in those few seconds, to lie.

“She’s a vampire. Looks a lot like Darla. They hung out together back in the day.”

Kate processed this like she did everything else, methodically and intently. “And the guy?”

“I don’t know him. He must be young.” He opened the door leading out and glanced back at the detective. “If you think Penn was bad …” He just shook his head again. “It’s done, Kate. You can’t catch these two and if you do, it’ll be because they let you. And then …”

She holstered her gun, having the information that she wanted and took a step toward the vampire. “And then what?”

“And then, your family, your friends, your co-workers here,” he waved his hand in the direction of her desk, “Hell your garbage man... they all die.”


"Here, wash this too," Garrison said, handing Drusilla's dress to the woman, whose name he could not be bothered to remember. "And be careful with it."

Walking away, he stopped and looked around the house. There was absolutely nothing for him to do. Spike and Drusilla were otherwise occupied, the two that helped around the house and ran errands for them were not even worth his time, and there were no human treats to torture or feed from.

Slowly but surely, a thought formed in his head, a wonderfully exciting thought. He'd venture out by himself, see what the night had to offer. Thinking back now, Garrison realized he'd never truly been on his own.

With night a bit away, Garrison made his way to a spare room, not wanting to be within easy hearing of Drusilla's games, and settled down to sleep. Night would not come soon enough and he wanted to prowl.


Getting away from Kate was necessary. She was asking something of him that he could not do again. Oh he wanted to go against his blood, relieve himself of this turmoil, but he had felt them again Drusilla in his arms, pliant and willing, Spike hard, defiant, challenging him at every turn. Yin and Yang.

He opened his closet and stooped to pick up a small box. Bringing it to the small side table next to his chair, he sat down and opened it.

He removed an item and stared as it hung from his splayed fingers. It was a necklace, the crystal pendant holding something dark.

“What is it, Wesley?” Lowering the necklace, he waited.

“I was wondering … Was it them?” Hearing the exhaustion in Angel’s voice, he cut to the chase, moving further into the dim quarters.

Angel sighed and gestured for Wesley to sit on the chair across from him.

“Yes, Drusilla, but not Spike. It was the new one.”

“Oh. I know this must be difficult for you, Angel. What did you tell Kate?”

He laughed. “Nothing. I lied. I couldn’t tell her another one of my gets is on the loose in Los Angeles.” He was getting very good at this lying thing.

“What if she goes after them? You must tell her the truth.”

“Wes, you know Kate. If I tell her anything useful, she’ll be like a dog with a bone until Drusilla catches wind of her then she’ll just be bones.”

"If that," Angel added quietly, his fingers running over the edges of the pendant. He understood Wesley's argument, had even had it with himself the entire way back to the hotel, but he also knew that if he told her, she would never look at him the same way again. It was bad enough that she looked at him as ... different, as a threat. He didn't want to see hate in her eyes as well.

"What are you going to do?" Wesley asked, bringing Angel out of his thoughts.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"We must destroy them, Angel. They cannot be allowed to roam this city freely. You know their penchant for destruction, and you also know that this couple and those cops have not been the first and won’t be the last to fall under their fangs."

Truer words, Angel thought, had never been spoken, yet just the idea of staking Drusila filled him with a sort of dread that made his already cool blood run cold.

“What if I can’t?”

Wesley shifted in his chair, actually relaxing. “We are here for you, Angel. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know. But … you’re a watcher, or were, and you know what a childe means to a sire.”

The pendant caught Wesley’s eye and he gazed at it while speaking. “I know nothing of the relationship. Just theories. Hardly anything the council has on vampires is accurate, but I am only learning that now.”

Abruptly, Angel stood, startling Wesley. “I’m going out.” He had the pendant clutched tightly in his hand, the chain dangling between fingers.

Standing swiftly, Wesley slipped between the vampire and the door, Angel’s unreadable stare making him wish he hadn’t. “To them?”

“What? No!”

His chin jutted out and he stood firm. “You’re lying…” When Angel growled, his resolved faltered slightly. “Or rather you’re embellishing the truth … and if you go to them again, Angel, I’m going with you.”

“No, you can’t go. Why would you want to?”

Blue eyes settled on him, calming and sure. “Someone has to save you from your impossibly stupid self.”

Unsure of whether to hit the man, or laugh, Angel shrugged and walked out of the office, heading for the basement, hearing Wesley scurry behind him. If Wesley wanted to tag along, he wouldn't stop him. Perhaps Wesley needed to see for himself just how screwed up this entire mess was to understand what they were dealing with. Angel didn't bother trying to deter him. He just he held onto the pendant and began his sojourn through the sewers.


Slowly, Willow's eyes opened, the darkness enveloping her like a blanket, and even with her heightened senses it took her a minute to get her bearings. Oh yeah, Drusilla had moved her, wanting alone time with her Spike and now she was in the basement, again. Chained to the rafters, again.

This was becoming a habit of hers, and not one she was particularly enjoying.

Her arms had the familiar ache, and she moved them, feeling and hearing the chains that bound her.

"Great," she complained, groaning as a particularly sore muscle was pulled due to her motion.

“I can only imagine how much that sucks.”

She spun around, green eyes wide, melting to gold, and meeting green as Garrison emerged from the shadows.

“Thought you’d never wake up.”

Hissing out a huge breath, she sagged in the chains, forgetting the soreness in her limbs for the moment. “What, are you getting like Angel now?”

“Why would I be like him?” Picking up a chair, the youngest vampire walked over and pushed her forward in the chains before setting the chair down. “Stand on this.”

Once the weight was off her shoulders, she answered him. “He lurks. Big time. Even for a vampire, I think.” She only had Spike and Dru to go by and really they all lurked when she thought about it.

“Nevermind.” She frowned as she tried to massage a shoulder while still in the manacles. “Aren’t you worried about what she’ll do?”

“Nope. She’s busy working Spike over. They’ll be at it for hours.” He gave a grin that could never mean anything good. “Maybe we can pass the time together?”

She sighed and shifted her weight to one hip. “You wanna fuck me in chains,” she stated, the delivery deadpanned.

His smile never wavered. “Yep.”

Willow stared at him for almost a minute, then shrugged. “Okay.”


The maze of the sewers expanded in front of Wesley, a mass of turns and moldy walls from which he would never be able to navigate if he were on his own. Though, he might as well be with the pace Angel was keeping. They moved left and right, up through a darkened parking garage, then back down into the sewers. .

Sighing as Angel disappeared up another ladder, Wesley grabbed on and began to climb, regretting his decision to tag along and hoping that this joy ride through the muck would end soon. Coming up to the top he was surprised to see Angel stalled at the grate above him. One hand was on it, the other in his pocket.

"Is this it?" Wesley asked, finally speaking.

There was no answer from Angel, but without warning, the top was thrown off and up Angel went.

Wesley followed and he found himself in standing in under a cluster of trees facing a large home. Angel appeared and took the bag Wesley had been carrying and removed a blanket. He smirked at Wesley.

“Try to keep up.”

And then he was gone, dashing across the driveway and up to the front porch in that creepy way vampires moved without you seeing it. Before Wesley could catch up, he had the front door opened and was walking inside.

Hurrying, Wesley slipped inside and closed the door behind him. It was dark and he felt a quick jolt of fear dash up his spine. “Angel,” he hissed and yelped but it was muffled by the large hand over his mouth.

“Don’t go talking in the mean vampires’ lair, Wes. It’s unhealthy.” When he was certain the man understood he removed his hand. It was quiet. In the distance, Angel heard a dryer going, and the rattling of chains and he didn’t want to speculate on what was happening. It wasn’t Dru or Spike. They were up. He could feel them, a sensual pull on the threads of his demon.

He crept up.

His ascent was utterly silent, yet Angel was almost sure they knew he was there. And if they didn't know he was there, then certainly they could smell and hear Wesley’s thundering heart.

"Didn't you're mother ever tell you it isn't nice to break into other people homes?" a female voice said from behind them. Wesley gasped and spun around, while Angel, a bit cooler, and having expected some sort of welcoming party, turned at a slower pace, his demeanor effecting boredom bordering on annoyance.

"This isn't your home,” Angel said, taking a step closer to the young minion. Her life was nothing to him, just as it would be nothing to Spike or Drusilla. If she did not let him pass, he would kill her. If nothing else, it would mean one less vampire to feed.

She snarled, her features swiftly changing. Out of the corner of his eye, Angel saw Wesley reaching into his coat pocket, but the vampire stayed his hand and stepped closer to the offending creature. With one stiff thrust of his arm, Angel hit her square in the jaw. The snap of her neck was loud in the near silence of the house and she fell limply to the floor. It was not enough to kill her ... unless her master did not come to her aide.

And he wouldn't.

A door opened and Drusilla appeared wearing a thin slip that was splotched with blood, head tilted as she gazed at Angel.

“You’ve come back, my sweet.” Her eyes fell to the man standing behind him and she smiled, showing too many teeth. “And brought a present. Thoughtful.” She licked blood from her fingers.

Angel stepped slowly. “Hello, Drusilla.”

“I hoped you come. I dreamed it, dearest.”

This was not the direction he wanted take this conversation. Drusilla was not going to ever be reasonable, mainly because he had taken all her reason 140 years ago.

“Where’s Spike?”

She waved her hand back inside the room dismissively. “He’s hanging around.”

He was in front of her now and she peeked around him. “That is for me, yeah?”

"No," Angel said firmly, "you haven’t earned a present." Her pout was nearly as alluring as her smile as he took his focus away from her and glanced inside the room. True to her word, Spike was hanging around, from the ceiling, his body a mess of cuts and bruises and blood. Angel was inappropriately prideful as he turned to her.

"You've been busy," he stated.

"Mmm, my wicked boy wanted a lesson but didn't expect school to be in session so late in the season." She slipped another bloody finger into her mouth, savoring the taste of Spike. "Have I been good enough now?" Her hungry eyes turned to Wesley.

He groaned, his body reacting to Drusilla even when his mind was steadfast against it. “I’m happy anytime Spike is taught a lesson, Dru.”

“Not too happy, I hope,” Wesley spoke from behind him and Drusilla perked up.

“Oh, he’s from home.” She clapped happily and grabbed his hand before Angel could stop her. “Daddy likes them foppish.” Turning, she half led, half dragged the human along.

“Let him go, Dru,” Angel growled.

“Shhh. Don’t be cross, Angelus. I won’t hurt your pet. Spike will be positively giddy to meet someone from home.”

But she did release Wesley’s hand and stepped on the bed so that she could reach the manacles, jumping down as her boy collapsed onto the mattress.

The blond looked up at them and rolled his eyes, the need to heal and the hunger that came with it, warring with knowing he was not going to feed soon.

“Peaches. Twice in a century. What brings you back so soon? And with snacks?”