A/N: I love Dru. She's my favourite vampire. I mean, I love Spike, Angel and Darla, but Dru is my favourite, because Miss Edith says so. This may be a one-shot, this may be another long one. I don't know yet. It depends on what you guys think and my own ideas. I just read a fic that inspired me to write this and the idea wouldn't let me sleep, so here I am.
Disclaimer:It's another new type of perspective for me. It's first person only not. You'll figure it out. As soon as you learn to decode CRAZY! Mwa ha ha haa! Ahem. Read on.
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Miss Edith knows all of the stars' secrets. Sometimes she tells them to me when the stars aren't talking, chitter chatter. Miss Edith is a very good girl, all raspberries and honey. Only sometimes Miss Edith is naughty, sometimes Drusilla must punish Miss Edith for talking out of turn. It is not fun when we must punish Miss Edith, but if we do not tell her off, no buttered scones for tea, then she'll never behave and Mummy will be ever so cross.
But Miss Edith has the best ideas. She told me where to find my Knight, the bravest and best in all the land. Dances with the sunshine, her Spike does, all fists and fangs and fury and fun. The stars are singing tonight, whispering of blood and potential and children. Miss Edith has had a very wicked idea indeed.
The bodies press around, so warm, so sweet, blood dancing to the music. Sweat and lust and blood and sex are in the air, making Drusilla giddy. She wants to dance, to play, to sing, but Miss Edith says she mustn't. We tell Drusilla we have a job to do. We're going to be a Mummy again, only this child will be wonderful and sweet, not like Grandmummy was, turning to ashes, to dust, floating in the wind, flying away from her Drusilla, her Mummy.
The throb of the music is the same song that the stars sing, leading me onwards through the press. It would be so easy to take a bite, just a nibble, like a little mousy, pitter patter, but Miss Edith says the stars whisper in her ear. If we stop, even for a second, tick tock, then our cherished, our pet, our darling will be gone forever, poof, just like Grandmummy, just like Daddy, just like Spike. No tea and crumpets for anyone, not even Miss Edith.
We can smell her now, all sprinkles and raindrops and delicious fear. It makes my tummy ever so growly, GRRrrr. Now Drusilla can smell her blood and this is not how it goes! Jigsaw pieces, start at the edge and work around, not in the middle! All wrong and nothing right and no bikkies for such naughty children that play with toys when they're not invited!
The splinter slides in and the wicked boy who thought to play with Mummy's new toy has been punished. Sent to bed without any supper, he was, tasting our cherished, our little girl without asking us, he was. He was a mean, wicked, nasty vampire to try and take such a pretty girl from Miss Edith. He was never invited to this party.
Now my pretty little girl is pouring out red all over, and we must have a taste. Pink tongues rasping on necks, slurp. Yummy, she tastes of green and pure and innocent and open locks and she's ever so sweet and she'll be mine and Miss Edith's for ever and ever. First we have to feed her though, have to give her a taste of the swirling, sticky, darkness.
Nail through chest, lovely sting, pretty red welling like waves in the ocean. Spike never liked the ocean, said it was tricksy and wicked because it tried to keep me, closed it's cold fingers over my head and lulled me to sleep with a false songs that stopped Miss Edith from talking. My boy rescued me, though, and now it's so sad because he's gone, poof, no more dark, deadly boy but soon there'll be my pretty, my pet, my precious, my Pixie.
She's drinking from Drusilla now, inviting the black into the green. Miss Edith is so happy, now we have a child. She'll be good and never leave us for a nasty little taffy girl, stealing Daddy and Spike and Grandmummy and never asking Drusilla to play.
Pixie's heart stops now, no more THUD-thud, THUD-thud. We must find some nice dirt to plant her in so she grows to be nice and strong like a big tree with lots of little birdies, tweet. She doesn't smell of fear any more, but she stills smells of green and marmalade. Through the press of warm bodies, nobody looks at a Mummy and her baby more than once, can't they see how happy the Mummy is?
The night is cool and tastes of the stars and glory, even more than when I made my Spike, my prince. This time there won't be any wicked girls to take Miss Edith's toys, she'll belong to us and only to us and we'll be her Mummy and she'll love us forever and ever.
The stars say it's not safe to have our baby here, too many of the naughty Slayers looking for blood that doesn't belong to them. They shan't play unless they're invited, Miss Edith says, and Miss Edith is never wrong. The stars say our Pixie will invite them to play, just like Spike, dancing and spinning and fire and woosh!
I'm in the woods now, under the stars. It's such a pretty place, and the dirt is soft against my fingers as I dig like a badger, scratch scratch. Dig, dig, the stars sing. We hurry. It wouldn't do for our Pixie to not be born right, we must follow procedure, yes sir, no sir, three bags full. Pile the dirt back on, hide from the bad, naughty sun that burns, burns up Grandmummy until poof!
The sun is rising, rainbows and lollipops. Miss Edith says I should go back to the house, eat one of the pretty boys or girls and go to sleep with a full tummy, but Drusilla knows there aren't any boys and girls at home so she'll have to go to sleep on a rumbly tummy, rumbly like a big bear, GRRrrr.
We try to sleep but it's not easy. Our Pixie will be waking soon and we'll be a Mummy again and we'll get to teach her to bite and play and dance to the moon. Miss Edith says the stars are singing, they're so happy to have our Pixie. They sing of sweet revenge against the little, wicked taffy girl who stole Daddy and Spike and wrapped them all up in the Angel-beast and little William 'til they were no fun, never wanting to play with their Princess.
The sun slowly sinks and we feel more and more excited. I can't wait to see my Pixie for the first time, all wrapped up in evil and hunger and hurting and delicious. We dance, dance to the beautiful music, step and step and twirl. Pixie scratches and claws her way to the night, to her Mummy. She'll make me ever so proud because she'll be fast and strong and she'll love her Mummy more than Daddy and Spike ever did.
Drusilla watches as her Pixie pokes her long, white fingers out of the black soil, like little maggots writhing in flesh and other delightful things. I help my Pixie out of the dirt and she's lovely, like lilies and jasmine and emeralds, flashing green and black in the dark of the night. Our Pixie is wonderful, radiant, effulgent. Her pretty blue eyes shine yellow, and Miss Edith whispers that our Pixie is frightened, hungry.
"Hush," we coo, dancing around our baby, brushing off the dirt with fingers like spiders, up the water spout. "We shall get you something yummy to eat, something special." Our baby growls, her tummy rumbles. She will make Mummy very proud indeed.
I dance my way to town, my Pixie grumbling and rumbling behind me. The streets are empty, like they used to be when Daddy, Grandmummy and my Spike used to come and play. All the little children hiding in their little houses didn't want to play with my Pixie. She was hungry now, so Drusilla would get her something to eat now, but soon. Soon Drusilla would teach her Pixie how to convince the cheeky little boys and girls to invite her in for supper.
A man staggered towards them. He reeked of spirits, the kind my Spike used to like, and the stars send they sent him for my Pixie to gobble. Miss Edith thinks she'll be a fine meal, and from the grumbly tummy, so does my Pixie. I giggle when my Pixie pounces, her pretty teeth rending and killing and drinking. The man screamed so sweetly.
"Are you still hungry, my sweet?" we ask her, swaying to the beat of the stars. She looks so pretty, covered in the blood of her first kill. She enjoyed it. She would enjoy many more. Miss Edith told us the stars said so.
"Yes," she murmurs hoarsely, her clear voice throaty with the rush of her first kill.
The stars whisper to me. They whisper of a tall man, with dark hair and one dark eye. They whisper of the man who I loved more than Daddy but didn't at all. A smile tugs on my lips when I see what my Pixie will do to him, the naughty little boy who played with the sticky sunlight girl who stole away Daddy and my Spike. I take my Pixie's hand and we go off to find someone nice to eat. Miss Edith says she approves very much.
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A/N: Well. Well, well, well. My first one-shot right there. This world I've created here may end up hosting a long/epic story because it does capture my imagination but at the moment, I'm pleased to have this done. I think I dropped enough hints for you to know what's going on, but if I didn't ask em in a review, leave your e-mail and I'll explain. Oh, and if you liked this, and maybe want to see the rest of the story told (not all of it from Dru's perspective, because it's surprisingly draining if disturbingly easy) then REVIEW!