The night had been productive, close enough to it. She'd found a charming Victorian style mansion just outside of town. It was everything she'd needed. The only downside was that a pesky pair of elderly women lived there. All wrinkled and dying, they had no use for the house. They couldn't appreciate it to the extent that it deserved. It would have been terribly rude of her to just waltz in, so she did the right thing. Having not fed for at least three days previously, her stomach urged her to carry on. The women did not see what she did as helping. They screamed and kicked, clawed at her. It was pointless to fight. They should have known that they didn't stand a chance. Drusilla drained them quickly. The blood was not at it's best. It was old, tainted and sick. Silly humans and their medicine. Why did they insist on trying to stop the inevitable? They felt the need to prolong one and others suffering for some ungodly reason.
Drusilla personally preferred younger blood. Though like most vampires, she would gladly take what she could get. Sadly, she was not that easy going about everything. Her dolls for example, oh she was picky when it came to those porcelain delights.
It wasn't terribly late but she didn't feel the need to hunt. There were more pressing matters to attend to. Drusilla sat on her knees on the floor in the dusty guest room. There were various items strewn about every available surface. Gowns, pictures, shattered mirrors. Last but not least, dolls. The small number of followers that she had accumulated noticed that the odd gift swayed her in their favors. She'd already killed a few of their kind just to prove a fact. Now, in the dim moonlight she looked like a doll herself. Raven hair carefully combed back. Outfitted in a crimson colored dressing gown with black slippers. She looked almost innocent, and not nearly as insane as she was.
Her current company did not understand what she was doing, why she was so transfixed. One of them had brought a batch of new dolls back for her, she had been pleased till she got to the bottom of the box. One doll in particular seemed to set her off. She'd growled at it as she picked out up out of the box by it's hair. It offended her. Now she was sitting opposite it. The offending doll had a piece of dark silk that covered most of it. Other dolls situated in a circle around it. "Do you know how it hurts?" Drusilla asked quietly, cradling a black-haired doll in her arms like a baby. The two vampires simply stared, unsure about if the question was directed at either of them. "Why do you have it covered like that?" The taller one asked. Drusilla sighed, shaking her head. They just didn't understand it at all!
"It's the light. That's what it is. I was right, the pixies...they told me. Can't you feel it? The burn?" All it ever did was cause trouble for her. It hurt her, took things away. Like Angelus and Daddy. It touched everything. Her boys, they had been weak to it. It was disgusting, the way they just...they way they gave in! This was what did it. "It's just a doll." The taller one spoke out of turn again, he moved forward and snatched the piece of silk off of the doll. In response, Drusilla leapt up and launched herself at him. A snarl ripped at her throat. The two fell against the hardwood with a thud. "How dare you! Why? Why?! It's screaming! Can't you hear it?!" Drusilla was shrieking at the top of her lungs now. The other one didn't dare enter the fray, in fact he left the room. The two rolled about on the floor for a few more minutes. Drusilla clawed and landed clumsy hits. The vampire moaned and withered beneath her. Blood under hear nails, on his face. She could hear him cry.
Once the vampires demonic guise faded back to its more pathetic form, Drusilla pushed herself up, dusting off her hands. There were other things to attend to. "Do you see her? She mocks us. She ruins our kind." Drusilla pointed an accusing finger at the now uncovered dolls. "We musnt' follow her example! She ruined the party. It was going to be so splendid." The vampiress slowly advanced on the doll. Picking it up with her thumb and forefinger, dangling it by it's hair. It was a pretty thing. A blue dress, long blond hair, big drawing eyes. She hated it with a burning passion. "She took daddy and my Angel. They said I could hurt her. Torture..." Drusilla twisted a lock of hair around her fingers, yanking it out with one sharp tug. The pixies said that she could do what she pleased with that breath-bearing harlot. They said she could!
It pained her, no one else understood. An outsider wouldn't understand why she snapped. Not many would. To her, the doll resembled the Slayer. Buffy. A nasty thing that wouldn't stay away. Always needed to ruin her fun, at every turn. Always. Drusilla tried to compose herself as she sank back down to the floor. "Soon she'll play, she'll have to." Drusilla patted down what was left of the dolls hair, turning it to face her. Those eyes, it was laughing at her. With a vicious smile her hands wrapped around the plastic neck, twisting. It wasn't laughing now. In fact, for the first time since it had been brought into the house, it was completely silent. The stars smiled upon her. Drusilla let the now severed head and the body fall to the floor. It was time to get back to party, before the tea went cold.