Disclaimer: Joss Whedon has dibs on both Buffy and Firefly.
He had been playing a game of cards when he caught her scent. It drifted into his awareness slowly, but commanded his attention: the delicate aroma of fear and anxiety coupled with a drop of insanity that he would never forget. The white haired vampire left his cards face down on the rough wooden table and turned to scan the bar.
She crept, feet quiet and eyes wide, coiled and ready for danger. If his heart wasn't already stopped, he might have died from the shock.
It was her. His goddess. He thought her dead with Earth-that-was in the final demon wars that turned the planet into a radioactive shell of its former glory. She'd been reported flashing into non-existence with the sun and he'd never thought to be with her again. But it WAS her.
Different body, but her.
A little lost human girl who burned with the darkened essence of his beloved. Spike quickly took up his winnings, left the confused gamblers, and walked toward the girl. She turned toward him and their eyes locked.
His nostrils flared as her scent filled them. She was coiled tighter now as her eyes drifted past the door, seeing what no one else saw, and Spike smiled toothily.
Her eyes glistened with invisible tears. "The hands. They'll take me away. They'll cut, cut, cut, cut!" Her own hands grabbed at her hair in fear and frustration and she stumbled backward.
"Now, luv. I'll not permit that." Spike reassured her as the door opened and two men dressed in suits entered. Blue gloves covered their hands and they moved with purpose and cold confidence. The little Dru shook and keened in fear, stumbling over to his side with a pleading whimper.
"Two by two, hands of blue. Two by two..."
"Only two, eh?" Spike noted the weapons on them, sound-type things designed to liquefy insides. He grinned as his visage became demonic. "Seem like Initiative-type blokes to me."
They were surprised by his appearance, but even more surprised that their little toys had no effect on him. One of the perks to being a walking corpse; he didn't need his insides so much. Hell, he had once functioned with only half a brain though admittedly he had been laid up for weeks afterward and unable to make any sounds beyond basic syllables.
Once the blue hands were dead the little Dru joined in fighting the rest of the soldier-boys, and they painted the town red just like old times.
Little Dru was beautiful. She whispered in his ear and held his hand as they set fire to the bad town. She whirled and hummed constantly, feet and hands moving in a deadly dance. Some fled. Some were mowed down by bullets, knives, or good old fashioned physical strikes.
They eventually made it to the next town, and found guns pointed at them.
"River!" A brown haired, clean-cut man called in fear and relief. He reminded Spike of himself, so long ago when he was human, and the vampire could easily see the man in big fancy house surrounded by servants and molly-coddling women.
"Simon." Little Dru cooed. "He killed them. The hands. He's promised to kill them all."
Spike smirked as he examined the crew and their ship. Hardy. Strong. Loyal. They would make good childe. Perhaps it was time to rebuild the Order of Aurelius, and shake the Alliance of the Slayers and Watchers down to its foundations. Rebellion was always fun, and they had those oh-so-fashionable brown leather coats...
A/N- Yet another piece from the depths of my hardrive, polished and posted.