This came out of nowhere. I was in my Buffy RP, and william_thebloody and Drusilla_theseer were roleplaying, and something Spike said made me think "hey, that should be a oneshot!" Also, I'm doing NaNoWriMo, so you may not see much of me during November. Set a few years after Spike became a vampire.
Warnings: Violence, implied rape that I really tried to keep implied only, torture, this is starting to sound like a list of Angelus's favourite pastimes.
I own nothing but my insanity and some pocket lint.
As the three vampires left the site of their latest kill, Drusilla commenting on the stars, and Angelus gritting his teeth, William smiled. He loved these times. Darla was busy playing with one of her pet-humans, so it was only the three of them. William would have preferred if Angelus hadn't come, but he could deal with that much.
"And the stars do not shine for Angelus," Drusilla whispered, "they are as black as his soul!" she added, stroking his arm, offsetting the almost cruel sounding words. "But all the stars shine for my William," she added, "William glows, he's so… the pixies took my word away. Naughty little creatures," she appeared to be thinking, trying to reclaim the word she had thought of.
William knew he had a favourite word that she might like, "effulgent, perhaps?" he suggested. It had popped up fairly often in his poetry, and he found it so much more interesting than its synonyms, luminous, radiant. Effulgent just seemed less overused, less clichéd.
Drusilla clapped excitedly, "William stole the word back from the pixies!" she cheered. Angelus rolled his eyes, a growl forming in the back of his throat. Angelus didn't like how, ever since Drusilla made her little vampire, they'd both become a lot more rebellious. He was losing his authority, and he didn't like that. He might just have to torture one of them, see if he could get a little respect. It seemed like a fun way to spend the day, when they couldn't go outside.
"Go hunt, Princess, Daddy and Willy will wait here for you," Angelus gave William a look that Drusilla missed, already skipping off. There was a woman walking alone in the dark streets. Some people, it seemed, had no self-preservation instinct. Not liking that Angelus had insisted on him staying put, William followed him anxiously into an alley just across the street, where they could watch Drusilla.
He stood back, watching Drusilla hunting for her next meal. He was already sated from the sleeping men he and Angelus had stumbled upon, so he was taking it as an opportunity to watch his sire in action. She was beautiful, he realized. There was poetry inherent in the way she moved, her long hair and dress flowing out behind her in an almost ethereal way. The only thing ruining the perfect scene was the predatory glint in Angelus's eyes.
Angelus smirked, watching as a few stray drops of blood soaked the top of Dru's white dress. William didn't like the way Angelus's eyes fixated on Dru, and wondered absently why Angelus was always doing that. What did he do? William wished he knew a lot of these things, wished he could understand his sire. She was probably an enigma to all of them though. He wouldn't be shocked if she was already the beautiful but broken person she was now when Angelus sired her.
His luck had it that his grand-sire was going to let him in on a few secrets. Angelus was sick of the near-fledgling William's impertinence. As he'd already considered, he could torture him, but that might not even get to the annoying little vampire. No, Angelus was going to have to play this game on an emotional level, see if William didn't respect him a little more when he did. "Ever wonder about your sire, William?" Angelus asked evenly, not giving away how much this was going to hurt William. This really was too easy.
William was shocked at how Angelus seemed to have read his mind. "Who was she before you sired her?" William asked; wanting know everything he could know about the woman he loved. She knew everything about him, even how, on occasion, he would still write poetry. She knew about how attached he'd been to his mother, and she'd gotten him through the time he had to kill her. He wanted to be able to help her through whatever he saw her fighting when she slept.
"When I met Drusilla, she was pure," Angelus smirked, "she was this sweet little catholic girl, not really much to her. So I made her my masterpiece. I killed her family, had my fun with it, too. Painted the walls with blood, made it good and slow. I forced her to watch. I made her tell her sister she was going to be okay as I slowly broke her. I made her hold that girl's hand until that's all that was left of her sister, and then I left her there.
"She had more strength than I thought though, went to a convent. She didn't realize I had a thing for nuns. They're so fun to toy with, because they practically let you. Again, I killed them, taking my time, forcing her to watch. She was crying by the end of it, when finally, I turned on her. The day she took her holy orders, I desecrated her every way I could think of, waited until she begged to die. So I let her. She just didn't stay that way." Angelus seemed proud of himself. William felt sick.
William killed people, and he enjoyed it, yeah, he was a vampire. Angelus, being proud of all his sick deeds was a monster. William felt sick, hearing the words echoing in his head. He loved Drusilla, (albeit too much for a vampire). He was under the impression that you weren't supposed to do that once you lost your soul. But he loved her, broken as she was. William had always assumed Drusilla was an enigma to all of them, that they had found her as she was. Now, he realised, Angelus, probably even Darla knew all too much about her. William hated it. He hated that Angelus thought of breaking someone as an art form. He hated that his Drusilla had been a victim to it.
She didn't seem victimised when she skipped up to the curb they had been talking on, and smiled at William, "are you proud of Princess?" she asked. He seemingly nonsensical talk had a darker meaning to Spike as her took her in, her white dress stained red. She was beautiful, she always had been, but she'd never seemed so strong. She tilted her head, looking at Angel pleadingly, "is Daddy proud of princess?" William wondered how she could be so loyal to someone who'd caused her so much pain.
He admired her for being able to be so loyal, even though Angelus didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve Drusilla at all, in fact. William wondered yet again why the dark goddess had chosen him, a dejected poet. He was even beneath Cecily sodding Addams at the time. That's when the poet side of him reared its ugly head wondering if maybe she was looking for someone to love her. William looked from the smirking Angelus to the pouting Drusilla, and spoke, "I'll always be proud of you, love," he said softly.
Drusilla smiled at him, clutching his hand and giggling almost child-like, "the stars shine for you, William," she said seriously, her eyes meeting his with a look so… honest. She was telling him that the stars she saw as there to guide her shone on him. In Drusilla's mind, William was sure that was a declaration of love. He didn't know why she would love him, but he knew he would treat her well. William could at least return that love to his broken savior.
Angelus sighed, "and if you two don't hurry up, the sun will shine for you," he remarked, starting to pick up the pace. William silently urged Drusilla along, not a doubt in his mind that Angelus would do it. If he could do all the things he'd told William about and be proud of it, he could leave them to die. Drusilla seemed blissfully unaware as she skipped along.
Once they arrived in the abandoned house they'd made their own, Angelus went to go find Darla, following the screams that were coming from the basement. Drusilla just walked up to the room, William following her. She lay down, curling up in the bed. William followed her, lying behind her. While Drusilla fell asleep quickly, barely stirring in his arms, sleep eluded William. When he finally did sleep, all he could see was the stuff of nightmares, a whimpering Drusilla holding onto the bloody hand of her sister, the rest of the other girl strewn around the room.
Worse yet was the way Drusilla looked at him, begging him to help her. William had tried, but it was like he was stuck behind a thick pane of glass, able to watch in shocked horror, but not intervene. It pained him greatly, watching Angelus destroying her with calculated efficiency. Sure enough, the day Drusilla joined the nuns, took her holy orders, a demon came into their midst. Angelus was brutal ad creative in his ways of killing all of the nuns around Drusilla, but the worst of it was how he dragged her with him, forcing her to keep her eyes open.
Tears once again streamed from them, probably helping matters slightly by obscuring her view, that is, until there was only one living person in the room. William closed his eyes, but he could hear her crying out in agony, he could hear her, first praying, then begging the Lord to protect her, and then begging Angelus for mercy. William felt sick, just hearing what he was hearing, screaming, tearing fabric, the cruel words that Angelus said.
Eventually, Drusilla's pleading just became muffled sobbing, and William wanted to go help her, but there was nothing he could do. He pounded at the glass, trying to break it, still not daring to look at whatever atrocity Angelus was committing. Drusilla's sobbing was almost silent, but William heard a resolute tone to her voice as she spoke, "kill me," she begged, her voice teary, strained, a little hoarse from the screaming, "I have nothing left to lose," she added, sounding saddened. Saddened wasn't even the right word for it. She sounded like someone who'd just lost everything.
Angelus laughed darkly, "whatever you want, lover," he responded. Spike opened his eyes to see Drusilla, covered in blood, lying in the wreckage of her habit, near what was left of the rest of the convent. Angelus was drinking her, his fangs lodged in her neck. Her teary eyes connected with William's as the light faded from them.
William waited with her body in his dream, long after Angelus left, knowing that she would seek him out when she awakened. When Drusilla did finally come to, she walked to the glass and flicked it aside, watching as it hit the floor and broke. "And all the little pieces falling shatter," she said quietly, grabbing onto William with her bloody hands. He just held his sire, finally understanding why she chose him. At her strongest or her weakest, he still loved her, he still needed her.
He woke up with a start, the sleeping Dru still in his arms, "my William," she whispered, burying her head into his chest. That night, William wrote. He found a journal to write in in the desk, and an old fountain pen. He stayed beside Drusilla while he wrote, now more than ever realizing that she needed him to stay. She trusted him, she loved him and he felt the same.
That day, he nearly filled the book with poetry; it was very different from his old poems though. He didn't glorify Drusilla or himself or any other person or theme, he wrote as he saw things, perfectly flawed. Some poems were about finding solace, or the stars that shone for them. Most of them were about Drusilla. She just slept, sometimes speaking, sometimes moving, but William had never felt so close to her. Until today, she'd been an enigma to him, but now he understood her.
He understood her, and despite that she was broken—they both were, he loved her all the same. Finally, writing the last word of the final poem, he placed the book at the side of the bed and slept for real this time.
Drusilla awoke long before Spike did, seeing the ink smudged on his hands and the book lying beside the bed. She smiled. She'd heard what Daddy had told William, and she'd wanted William to understand. The pixies had done the rest for her. Despite stealing their word, they liked William. And the stars shone exquisitely over him. She picked up the book, opening it to where the little ribbon bookmark was. That was the last poem, one titled "Stars". She smiled as she read it,
"And all the little pieces falling shatter
never to be assembled together,
wrong never made right
Save by the stars and cover of night.
Something to fill the void
of one so destroyed
I'll hold your pieces, my love, my sire
Fill the holes that we can be entire
As the stars, they shine
on your strength divine
and the stars they shine,
yours and mine."
Drusilla watched her William sleeping, seeing the glowing stars sparking around him. Her William was effulgent, and he understood her.