(Note: this fanfiction was originally posted on tumblr (DrusillaTheKiller) and reposted here. Please be aware that this story contains depictions of mental illness, hallucinations, trauma, and vague depictions of self harm which some may find upsetting (though it just about scrapes as a T). Set before School Hard, but after Drusilla's ailment post-Prague. Thanks to Ponyridesanddarkness for inspiring the story as well as so much more.

Thank you for reading; all reviews- positive or negative- are very much appreciated. Enjoy!)

(Ladvi, Czech Republic, just outside Prague. 1995).

Eels writhed in her brain like her convulsing body, tossing and turning feebly. Her shuttering frame foretold prophecies, spelt out letters with her flailing limbs. Her back arched into a "C", then curled into the foetal position of a "O". "K", "B", "X". Drusilla did not understand what that meant, but wept for knowledge of such a future anyway.

She reached for Miss Edith blindly, desperately; "Something's not right. Not right at all. Come here, little one." She cradled the toy to her chest like an anchor to the shores of reality.

The china doll giggled; "I'm going to poke a needle in your eyes."

"…That would be very rude Miss Edith." She whimpered. "I shall have to pour away your tea if you do that."

More laughter tinkled from her porcelain, painted mouth; "Poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke POKE POKE POKE NO MORE EYES POKE POKE POKE—"

Drusilla threw the doll across the room; "Naughty girl. Very, naughty girl. And to think I was going to throw you a party."

In a attempt to get out of bed her legs buckled from beneath her, and she crumpled onto the floor like a discarded old dishrag.

The floor was maggots. They were all over her, whispering secrets no sane person could hear. Not if they wished to stay sane.

They writhed, wrathful, all over her, all around her and inside her, and-

"No, no, no, no, no, no—" She sobbed her sad song, a summary of her unlife, hands over ears, moaning. She hated the maggots.

Yesterday's dinner (which Spike- housekeeping as subpar as usual- had forgot to dump in the river) blinked at her with both his two eyes and the two holes in his neck. Spike had had to bite him for her, upon realising that she didn't have the strength to do it herself. "You ate me. You couldn't do it yourself but you ate me."

He rose and stumbled towards her, kicking maggots in her face as he did so.

"If you try to dance with me I'll cry." She threatened, apparently unaware that she was already. "Don't believe I won't!"

He sneered; "You can't dance. Prague danced you to death a second time."

Crawling away from him, she managed to collapse next to the window, bawling, tearing at her own tresses, clawing for some foundation for her mind to take hold. In lieu of said foundation, she clawed at herself. "Drusilla? Princess?"

Spike.

The familiar stomp of damp leather boots caused the larva to leave anxiously through the floorboards. And thus the floor was but a floor again, the monsters living on there too small to conceive of or hurt her.

The dead body slunked away to its original position.

"Dru?"

Miss Edith stopped her taunting at the sound of his voice. She always behaved when he was around.

"Got you something to nibble on, Poodle. Thought you could do with a treat." He called out to her. "Got you one of your favourites; know how much my baby loves them streetwalkers, and this one was right outside too. I know you don't feel like doing your own cutting and tearing at the moment, but you know I can always help Love, and b—- oh bloody hell."

"Bollocks!" He cursed under his breathe, finding his companion in a heap, bloody furrows mauling her face, arms and chest. He knelt beside her, tending to her wounds lovingly, frantically. Every kiss to her forehead plucked an eel from her head, and Drusilla groaned in relief. Her lover misinterpreted it as pain; "You have to stop hurting yourself, Ducks."

He lifted her in his arms to the bed, nestling her against his chest, rocking her soothingly back and forth. Those same hands which caressed and grounded her to Earth so sweetly had snapped a neck not five minutes ago. God, she loved him for that.

Drusilla was torn between keeping her eyes open to marvel at how much sense the world made now and closing them because she finally could.

She melted into him, relieved.

"You were gone too long Spike."

Spike's brow furrowed with concern.

He had only been gone six minutes.