Pretty Thoughts
The man doesn't know it's me. He'd kiss his Jenny like this, not me, not Dru with her teeth. I am bad, a girl without a soul to make her sad. I'm not like his Jenny, not like him, silly mistaken man. People are funny when they love. They make me laugh when they do things I don't understand.
Oh, but he's lovely! I'd never have thought so, for he looks utterly without passion, but now I don't want to stop. Flowers are lovely too... and sun... not anymore.
My Spike is bad like me, and he doesn't kiss me like this. Well, I shouldn't like it. Softness and warm humanity are not for me, not since my big, lovely Angel made me a creature like him. There was a boy who once kissed me like this, but cruel, handsome Angel drank him. He likes to drink, my Angel.
But kissing is fun! Spike is fun when he is strong and mad, and Angel even more so. I can make them mad. I can make this man mad. I will hurt the girl he guards - rip every muscle and bone from her lively body and every yellow hair from her head. She wants to hurt us, little slut.
How this man will hate himself when he remembers me - that it was me, and not his lost love! Maybe he will try to hurt me; such fun! He is a darling, even though he protects the nasty bitch.
I had a dog once, I think. A dog that was pretty. A dog that loved me. Would he love me? Would he be my pretty dog? Ooh, but Spike would hate that.
The doggy likes me, I think! He likes my lips - maybe the blood I've tasted is tasty. I would like to pet him forever, for he is soft and smells good. Good enough to eat.
'Uh, Drucilla?'
Spike.
Don't you like it rough, love?
Of course I do! I'm a vampire, dear; a bloody vampire with lovely long teeth a face like a snake and dollies who talk. I don't like sun.
This man tastes like cake. I once had a cake, and I loved it. What's this? His tears smell funny. He wants her back. But he shall have only me - only old, old Dru. Before he dies, that is. He doesn't get nice Jenny and fat little babies: Angel took all that away.
He likes to take things, my Angel.
My boys want me to stop kissing. Do keep them happy, Dru, love. My lips feel cold when he stops being on them. Soon he will know that he kissed a dead girl with no babies, and he will be sad and hateful and I will laugh.
'Sorry,' I say to Spike. 'I was in the moment.'
They didn't like watching, my dear big boys. Not to worry, I know how to make them love me forever. The trick is to let them think I never wanted anything but them.