"No Spike. Death is beautiful." She walked away from him.

William the Bloody woke up to something satin. Soft. Touching his skin.

"He is quite exquisite," came Darla's voice standing by their high arching door.

"My Spiike," she purred as Drusilla stole across to get to him. She gazed at his neck lovingly. She kissed it and patted his cheek. "Come, dinner is waiting." There was a knock and someone else came in. Someone he loathe as Angelus. "Hurry it up girls, there is the tenderest meat out there and Darla, I 'know' you just love young virgins."

"You know, I like them young," she licked her red stained lips, just from eating the mail man.

Darla praised him and nodded in approval as he delivered. He got to Cecily's family and their stupid party friends. The same that knocked him down. Tormented and laughed at his poetry.

The same that he just took a bite out of and he smiled at the blood dripping down a part of Drusilla's chin in which he picked up with his tongue. "You look glorious..." "Same can be said to you, my sweets..."

"Cecily is in that room," she clapped. Ah, that BITCH... He almost forgot, but now. Now, he will have a piece of her upper crust blood going down his throat.

"Why don't you play with her a bit," he suggested. She smiled and her eyes suddenly lit up like a kid on Christmas. Like he just gave her the best treat and sweetest whine in all of London.

Cecily cried out. Everyone else had been slaughtered, leaving just her and this madness.

The door was swung ajar.