In Sunnydale, temperatures rose from the fallen remnants of subtle spring
to boiling point overnight. The city was a melting pot, sitting on the
stove of hell itself -- that was hardly a metaphor. The seemingly sedated
city lay blanketed by the night. Humidity swallowed every inch of the quiet
town, making things that were unfavorable stick together.
       Streetlights lined residential and park areas, illuminating the darkness to an extent. Porch lights of the various houses decorated the city so that it deceptively appeared a populated metropolis.
       The last bus from the industrial part of town to the Weatherly Park Station made its last stop before the end of it's run. The bus was quite empty for the last run on a Friday evening. Businessmen and women working the late shift usually occupied its seats to its capacity. Tonight, only half a dozen, tired and cranky, passengers occupied the
Standard brown bus seats. A solemn tune buzzed from a speaker in the ceiling. Â The breaks sounded noisily as the bus came to a complete stop just outside the fiberglass station that housed potential riders from any weather condition.
       Each passenger gathered his or her belongings and waited impatiently in the center aisle. The bus driver would open the retractable door soon and each one of them wanted to be home before the next. For a mere moment, the lights inside the bus were the brightest things they would see before they walked a short way home.
       But the lights suddenly failed them, causing the passengers to gasp in confusion amidst darkness. It was not long before each passenger screamed to his or her deaths. A look of horror remained etched on their pale faces.
       Buffy and the Slayerettes stood outside he Magick shop preparing for the night's patrol work. Spike had joined them, claiming that "Everything juicy happens at night."
       "We'll split up, the way we've been doing lately. Meet at the cemetery to run through together." Buffy said in an authority-like voice.
       "Let's just hope nothing is out there. I'm feeling drained." Willow's soft voice chimed in, starting towards the East end of the area with Tara. Both ladies gripped a stake in the palm of their hands.
       "What about me? Who am I going with?" Spike murmured as if he felt neglected.
      Â
       "Oh, I guess you can go with Xander. Wander the opposite way of me." Buffy said, fixing another stake so that it fit into the holster belt around her waist. A sudden shrill of an overlapping voices corrupted the still night, ruining all hopes of getting to bed early.
       "Or, we can follow the horrendous screams of terrified people." Xander added.
        The Scooby gang sprinted toward Weatherly Park, where they found the battered bus. Windows were broken and the inside was avoid of light. There was an obscure aura about the scene that struck familiar to Buffy as she and Spike inched closer to the bus. Xander and the rest of the gang ran to the other side of the bus looking to find anything that could accuse something supernatural.
        She pushed open the retractable door and climbed the duel steps. A disgusted look was painted on her face as she eyed the seven strewn, colorless bodies of the victims. The corpse of the driver of the bus lay in sitting position, pale hands still on the wheel. Blood soaked through his uniform scrubs from his neck down.
        "Vampires." Buffy stated the obvious. When she scanned the bus for the vamps, she saw nothing. The emergency back door was wide open. Buffy guessed the vampire or vampires had left long before the gang got there.
        Spike took a look around for himself, trying to find clues to how many there were. He paced the single aisle looking for anything left behind.
        "Nothing but blood and bodies." Spike concluded.
       Â
        "And this." Buffy kicked forward a fragile figurine from beneath the leg of the driver's seat. She crossed her arms over her chest recognizing the tattered doll with midnight hair as a possession of someone she knew. She put a name to that someone,
        "Drusilla."
* Â Â Â * Â Â Â *
        Spike drank deeply from his liquor flask, which, at the time, was filled with animal blood. He opened the steel doors of the dark, windowless crypt. The flaming torches attached to the walls cast shadows about the room. Spike stepped in, waiting impatiently in silence.
        "I know you're here, Drusilla," He called out into the shadows. "I knew you'd come back. Found another way to torture me some more, I suppose?"
        "Does my memory torture you, Spike?" Drusilla's voice broken the tense silence. She stepped into the dim light.
        Her body was clothed in a fine, white silk dress which fitted to each of her features. Her raven hair was brushed straight down to cascade down her back. Underneath dark painted eyelids, her round black eyes resembled a lost puppy. She extended a long, wide sleeved arm toward him and offered her hand. When he stared blankly at the insignificant gesture, she went on.
        "I swept dirt off your porch this evening."
        "I'd appreciate it if you ate from your own storage, Dru. You've been to many places and eaten many good people. Don't take from me what is rare." Spike lied through his teeth in a rage.
        "Naughty!" Drusilla retorted. She reached up her pale hands to caress his head in her embrace. She mimicked touching his brain through his skull. "It's still there. I can hear it. It sings a song full of lies and you like each and every one of them. It puts you at the right hand of the Slayer and you like it there. A chld straying from my playground."
        "Yeah, well, at least I'm at a place that's not up her arse." Spike commented snidely.
       Â
        "Naughty, Spike, so callous to the wind who carried you. There'll be no daises for you." Drusilla chided.
        "I'm jealous, Mummy," A high, accented voice identical to Drusilla's declared from the shadows. Footsteps prodded across the old cement floor as the slender figure strode into the light. "You never gave me daisies. Even for my birthday."
        "Bloody hell..!" Spike exclaimed in a panicked state as he looked at the two identical creatures within his crypt. "The-There's two of you!"
        Drusilla's significant other was clothed in a sensuous crimson camisole. The fabric matched her every dimension as it was fit along her delicate porcelain colored skin.  Fiery orbs as black as soot lay amidst almond shaped pools. Sable tresses framed an ivory face and tumbled down her back, stopping just before her waist in layers.  She was a rare,  dark desire. And Spike was tempted to enjoy every inch of it right then.
        "And twice the havoc. Ooh, the games are so much more fun when there's more than one on each side. Don't you agree, my Risika?" Drusilla responded with fondness in her voice. Spike gave Drusilla an off look.
        "Yes, Mummy. I like it that way." The equally amused Risika agreed.
        "I came to surprise you, my William." Drusilla approached Spike.
        "That you did."
        Drusilla latched on to his arm. Her gaze traveled to his as she coquettishly stared upwards.
        "Ooh, Angelus would be so pleased! I made a deliciously dark dollie out of Eden, like poetry naming death." Drusilla prided in Risika. Spike winced uneasily at the mention of the name of an old friend.
        "I'm a Princess, Mummy?" Risika exclaimed, filled that Drusilla pushed her pride into Risika's own hands.
        "Yes, yes, you are." Spike admired the black beauty.
         Drusilla quickly and abrasively reached a hand to the side of his jaw, moving his face so that his gaze fell upon her own visage. His jaw ached beneath her callous grip.
        "And you, Dru. My Queen."
 Â
       Streetlights lined residential and park areas, illuminating the darkness to an extent. Porch lights of the various houses decorated the city so that it deceptively appeared a populated metropolis.
       The last bus from the industrial part of town to the Weatherly Park Station made its last stop before the end of it's run. The bus was quite empty for the last run on a Friday evening. Businessmen and women working the late shift usually occupied its seats to its capacity. Tonight, only half a dozen, tired and cranky, passengers occupied the
Standard brown bus seats. A solemn tune buzzed from a speaker in the ceiling. Â The breaks sounded noisily as the bus came to a complete stop just outside the fiberglass station that housed potential riders from any weather condition.
       Each passenger gathered his or her belongings and waited impatiently in the center aisle. The bus driver would open the retractable door soon and each one of them wanted to be home before the next. For a mere moment, the lights inside the bus were the brightest things they would see before they walked a short way home.
       But the lights suddenly failed them, causing the passengers to gasp in confusion amidst darkness. It was not long before each passenger screamed to his or her deaths. A look of horror remained etched on their pale faces.
       Buffy and the Slayerettes stood outside he Magick shop preparing for the night's patrol work. Spike had joined them, claiming that "Everything juicy happens at night."
       "We'll split up, the way we've been doing lately. Meet at the cemetery to run through together." Buffy said in an authority-like voice.
       "Let's just hope nothing is out there. I'm feeling drained." Willow's soft voice chimed in, starting towards the East end of the area with Tara. Both ladies gripped a stake in the palm of their hands.
       "What about me? Who am I going with?" Spike murmured as if he felt neglected.
      Â
       "Oh, I guess you can go with Xander. Wander the opposite way of me." Buffy said, fixing another stake so that it fit into the holster belt around her waist. A sudden shrill of an overlapping voices corrupted the still night, ruining all hopes of getting to bed early.
       "Or, we can follow the horrendous screams of terrified people." Xander added.
        The Scooby gang sprinted toward Weatherly Park, where they found the battered bus. Windows were broken and the inside was avoid of light. There was an obscure aura about the scene that struck familiar to Buffy as she and Spike inched closer to the bus. Xander and the rest of the gang ran to the other side of the bus looking to find anything that could accuse something supernatural.
        She pushed open the retractable door and climbed the duel steps. A disgusted look was painted on her face as she eyed the seven strewn, colorless bodies of the victims. The corpse of the driver of the bus lay in sitting position, pale hands still on the wheel. Blood soaked through his uniform scrubs from his neck down.
        "Vampires." Buffy stated the obvious. When she scanned the bus for the vamps, she saw nothing. The emergency back door was wide open. Buffy guessed the vampire or vampires had left long before the gang got there.
        Spike took a look around for himself, trying to find clues to how many there were. He paced the single aisle looking for anything left behind.
        "Nothing but blood and bodies." Spike concluded.
       Â
        "And this." Buffy kicked forward a fragile figurine from beneath the leg of the driver's seat. She crossed her arms over her chest recognizing the tattered doll with midnight hair as a possession of someone she knew. She put a name to that someone,
        "Drusilla."
* Â Â Â * Â Â Â *
        Spike drank deeply from his liquor flask, which, at the time, was filled with animal blood. He opened the steel doors of the dark, windowless crypt. The flaming torches attached to the walls cast shadows about the room. Spike stepped in, waiting impatiently in silence.
        "I know you're here, Drusilla," He called out into the shadows. "I knew you'd come back. Found another way to torture me some more, I suppose?"
        "Does my memory torture you, Spike?" Drusilla's voice broken the tense silence. She stepped into the dim light.
        Her body was clothed in a fine, white silk dress which fitted to each of her features. Her raven hair was brushed straight down to cascade down her back. Underneath dark painted eyelids, her round black eyes resembled a lost puppy. She extended a long, wide sleeved arm toward him and offered her hand. When he stared blankly at the insignificant gesture, she went on.
        "I swept dirt off your porch this evening."
        "I'd appreciate it if you ate from your own storage, Dru. You've been to many places and eaten many good people. Don't take from me what is rare." Spike lied through his teeth in a rage.
        "Naughty!" Drusilla retorted. She reached up her pale hands to caress his head in her embrace. She mimicked touching his brain through his skull. "It's still there. I can hear it. It sings a song full of lies and you like each and every one of them. It puts you at the right hand of the Slayer and you like it there. A chld straying from my playground."
        "Yeah, well, at least I'm at a place that's not up her arse." Spike commented snidely.
       Â
        "Naughty, Spike, so callous to the wind who carried you. There'll be no daises for you." Drusilla chided.
        "I'm jealous, Mummy," A high, accented voice identical to Drusilla's declared from the shadows. Footsteps prodded across the old cement floor as the slender figure strode into the light. "You never gave me daisies. Even for my birthday."
        "Bloody hell..!" Spike exclaimed in a panicked state as he looked at the two identical creatures within his crypt. "The-There's two of you!"
        Drusilla's significant other was clothed in a sensuous crimson camisole. The fabric matched her every dimension as it was fit along her delicate porcelain colored skin.  Fiery orbs as black as soot lay amidst almond shaped pools. Sable tresses framed an ivory face and tumbled down her back, stopping just before her waist in layers.  She was a rare,  dark desire. And Spike was tempted to enjoy every inch of it right then.
        "And twice the havoc. Ooh, the games are so much more fun when there's more than one on each side. Don't you agree, my Risika?" Drusilla responded with fondness in her voice. Spike gave Drusilla an off look.
        "Yes, Mummy. I like it that way." The equally amused Risika agreed.
        "I came to surprise you, my William." Drusilla approached Spike.
        "That you did."
        Drusilla latched on to his arm. Her gaze traveled to his as she coquettishly stared upwards.
        "Ooh, Angelus would be so pleased! I made a deliciously dark dollie out of Eden, like poetry naming death." Drusilla prided in Risika. Spike winced uneasily at the mention of the name of an old friend.
        "I'm a Princess, Mummy?" Risika exclaimed, filled that Drusilla pushed her pride into Risika's own hands.
        "Yes, yes, you are." Spike admired the black beauty.
         Drusilla quickly and abrasively reached a hand to the side of his jaw, moving his face so that his gaze fell upon her own visage. His jaw ached beneath her callous grip.
        "And you, Dru. My Queen."
 Â