Mad Girl

1880

"Happy birthday, Dru," Angelus whispered in her ear. She felt his cool breath on her skin as he leaned in close and she giggled.

"What will you give me?" Drusilla asked.

He didn't answer for a moment, but moved away and walked a few paces closer to the railing. The water below looked black, dark like clotted blood in the pale moonlight. There were no lanterns here. Most people would find it hard to see, but the two vampires were far from most people.

They had come here alone, William and Darla both out doing their own things. Angelus had wanted to bring Drusilla out, because today was special. It was her birthday. Or rather, her un-birthday. The day she had become a monster. It wasn't a day she would choose to celebrate, but Angelus always had. It seemed like a day he was very proud of.

She could hardly remember most of her human life. She could remember the worst things the most, the things she wanted to forget. But she had some memories of her family, of feeling safe and warm, alive and happy. That was like someone else's life now. She wanted it to be someone else's life, because that meant that none of those awful things had happened to her. Only some other girl. But she knew it had happened, and she couldn't escape it. It was as true as life, as true as death. And like life and death, she couldn't avoid it.

At this time especially, on the anniversary of her death, those memories flooded her mind. She didn't want to remember any of it. She wanted things to be happy, like she was now. She'd got used to Angelus and the things he did, and now she had her William, who was kind to her. But those memories still came to her, as unstoppable as a hurricane.

1860

Drusilla was sitting at the table, with her family. She was enjoying her meal and trying to put her visions out of her mind. It wasn't easy. She'd had another one only the previous day, and it was becoming too much for her. Not only were the visions themselves awful, Drusilla wondered about what it meant. Her mother said her seeing things was an affront to the Lord. When she had gone to confession, that priest had told her she was a devil child. Were they right? Drusilla didn't want them to be. She wanted to be good, not bad. But whatever these visions were, she couldn't stop them. All she could do was try to live with them.

There was a knock on the door. Drusilla got a horrible feeling about it. She knew it was something bad, in a way she couldn't explain. This feeling almost reminded her of her visions, but she liked his much better. It seemed more natural, and wasn't so terrifying. After all, she didn't actually know what would happen, couldn't actually see it. She just had a feeling.

Her sister got up. "I'll answer it," she said.

"Don't!" Drusilla said.

Her sister paused. "Why ever not?" she asked.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Drusilla said to her. At the strange looks she received, she continued. "It could be anyone. What if it's a murderer?"

"Why would you say such a thing?" her mother asked her.

Drusilla couldn't explain. She could see from their faces that none of them thought it was likely that there was anyone dangerous. There was nothing she could do.

The door opened, and she saw him standing in the doorway. She heard her sister invite him in. The next thing she heard was her sister's screams. The man stepped forwards, and as she got a closer look, she saw that he wasn't a man at all. There was something wrong with his face... that was a demon's face.

She wanted to get away, to save herself and the rest of her family, but it was no use. That demon tortured them, killed them all, right before her eyes. They all perished that night, even though Drusilla tried to fight. He left her there, the last one alive, crying and screaming, wishing she could have saved them. Wishing she could have done something. But there was nothing she could do against that demon. Nothing.

1880

After that, Drusilla had thought she was safe, for a time. She'd seen him after that, but he hadn't tried to hurt her. He never did, not yet. Just lingered, always in her vision, making her look over her shoulder constantly. He must have been waiting. For what, she didn't know. She'd tried to escape from him, tried to hide. She'd gone to a convent, her last refuge. That would be a safe place. A sanctuary. He wouldn't hurt her there. A demon would never dare to enter such a holy place.

But she wasn't safe. She wasn't close to safe. Safe was in the past, not the present, not the future. Drusilla should have known all along how foolish she had been. But there hadn't been a way for her to know. There'd been the visions, but she'd still prayed they were wrong. She hadn't wanted to die. At least, at first she hadn't. Why would she have? But after everything he'd done to her, to the others around her... There hadn't been anything else she had wanted more. But she hadn't got her wish. At least, not the way she'd wanted it.

"Drusilla? Off with the pixies again are you?"

She looked at Angelus, ripping herself away from those past recollections. "I was dreaming," she said.

"'Course you were. Always a dreamer, you are, aren't you? Never even see what's right in front of your face." Angelus laughed. She knew he felt proud. Proud of his creation, his masterpiece. The monster he'd turned her into. But she knew he wouldn't always be proud. One day, he'd feel it, all of it. All the shame, the guilt he'd never known. It brought a smile to her face.

"What're you thinking about now? One of those street urchins you love to eat so much?"

Drusilla didn't reply. "So what's my present then?" she asked, smiling up at Angelus.

He only smiled, and began walking again. He led to a cathedral, so much like the one she had died in. The one where he had killed her, stolen what was left of her sanity. The place was beautiful, and as a girl she would have loved it. But as a demon, she hated it. And worse, it reminded her. Of what had happened. Of those memories she wanted to bury.

Angelus led her through the cathedral, taking her by the hand. She didn't want to be here. This was the last place she wanted to be. But Angelus always did things like this on her 'birthday'. Always tried to remind her, of what she had used to be. What she could have been. What he had torn away from her. It was a day she always dreaded. She looked up at the cross, much like the one she had seen when she became a demon. She reached out, knowing it would burn her now. It was too high on the wall for her to touch. Even though it would hurt her, she would have liked the comfort of something she had once believed in so strongly.

1860

Drusilla cried, praying that someone would hear her. This was supposed to be her last refuge, her place of safety. But it wasn't safe. They had followed her there. The demon who had tormented her, and his lover, another demon like him. They had followed her, even to a holy place like this. Of course they had. They'd do anything they could to hurt her.

After the last time Drusilla had seen them, they had followed her, to this place of supposed safety. They'd killed everyone. And not gently, not quickly. The whole place was stained with blood. Drusilla didn't want to look at the bodies. The sight was too awful. Their pale faces, their wide, staring eyes, and all that blood... It was too much for her.

After everything that had happened, Drusilla was just about ready for it all to end. It was horrible, sinful for her to think like that, but the thoughts still came unbidden. She didn't want this to happen. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be home, with her family. But that wasn't possible, because that monster had killed them all. Killed them just to hurt her.

She saw him now, walking towards her, and she closed her eyes as if that would stop the fear that took over her mind at the mere sight of him. She felt his cold fingers on her skin, and shrank in revulsion, but there was no where to run to. Drusilla cried out while he touched her, his hands all over her, but he only laughed. She might have struggled, had this been another time, had she not already been so beaten. But by now, she knew it wouldn't do any good at all. So she just lay there as he did what he wanted with her, tears streaming, eyes shut tight against the world. Wished she could leave this place and be free of the pain. But there was no escape from reality. Was there?

She couldn't feel the demon anymore. She thought he might be done with her, but then he grabbed her roughly and she felt teeth—no, fangs—tearing at her neck. She screamed, but secretly felt glad. Was this it? Was this the end? It seemed so cowardly for her to welcome death with such eagerness, but it was all she wanted. After so much suffering, so much pain... A chance of rest—even the rest of death—seemed like a dream. All of this pain, this torment, would be over. And she could see her family again. That would be nice.

The pain was gone, but she knew she was still alive. Everything was still here, everything that meant reality. She opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred from her tears, but she still saw the cross on the wall before her, still saw the demon's taunting faces... until she saw the blood dripping from her tormentors arm.

"No," she whispered, knowing what it meant. She didn't want to be a demon like them. She wanted to be good! She'd only ever wanted to be good...

But she couldn't stop herself from swallowing the blood he had offered to her. It was what would keep her alive, make her strong. She couldn't overcome that instinct to survive, even when surviving was the last thing she wanted.

1860

She awoke the following night to find the world had changed. The night seemed brighter than it had ever been before. She could hear everything. So many sounds and smells she had never noticed before. She was pleased with that, until she realised what it meant.

She was one of them: a demon. She would have hated that before, but now she found she didn't care. She was something new now. She could forget what had happened, or she thought she could. Maybe things would get better after a while. But still, there were tears pooling in her eyes. Maybe she cared more than she thought she did. Something had changed in her, after the things he had done, and now she would never be the same as before. There was something in her mind... her thoughts didn't make as much sense as before. She would never be the same girl again. But maybe the person she was now could survive.

The demons were still here, with her. She could sense them. She didn't know how it was possible. She wasn't afraid of them now. She was like them, one of them. She knew they wouldn't kill her. She hadn't decided if that was good or not yet.

"Drusilla? Are you awake now?"

She knew that voice. It was him, the demon. She should stop calling him that now, if she was the same. She needed to know their names now. He was outside the room, moving closer. Drusilla had thought she wasn't afraid of him now, but at the sound of his approaching footsteps she thought that maybe she had been wrong.

He entered the room, still wearing the bloodstained clothes he had been the previous day. He stank of blood. A short time ago, Drusilla would have been revolted by that smell. But now it smelled delicious, like hot tea on a frosty, winter day. He was dragging a child behind him.

"Here," he said, pushing the child to her. Drusilla was confused for a moment, but quickly realised what she needed to do. He teeth sharpened, half-involuntary, an unfamiliar instinct. She marveled at the strangeness of it all, before diving upon the child's throat, tearing the flesh apart, much as the demon had done to her. The child screamed and cried, wanting to live. What else would he want? But Drusilla just couldn't care. She didn't feel anything about what she was doing. It was like the part of her mind that cared about doing wrong had just... died. Maybe that was exactly what had happened.

"What's happened? " she asked him. "I went to sleep and now everything's all strange..."

The demon came closer to her, sitting down beside her. He reached for her and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You're better now. Stronger. You're one of us now. A vampire. You'll never grow old. You'll never die. You'll be better than you ever were."

"Not better," Drusilla said, shaking her head. "Never get better, only worse. Won't be who I was, just what the demon wants."

"That's right. You won't ever be who you were again. That girl was weak. She didn't survive. But we can help you survive."

"We?"

"Me and Darla."

"Darla... She was with you. In the convent."

"Yes."

"She didn't like me," Drusilla said. "She wanted you to leave me there. That would have been wiser for you. This way will only bring you hurt, even if it gives you satisfaction. They'll come and they'll hurt you, turn you into what you used to be. You'll wander, all lost. Retribution. For all your sins. You'll feel it all."

Angelus frowned. "Are you threatening me?"

Drusilla smiled. He couldn't understand what she was telling him. Couldn't heed her warnings. But what she had spoken was truth, if only he could see it. She shook her head. "Not threatening," she said. "Just telling. What will happen one day in future. The wrong girls will fall and it will be the worst thing for you. Make you wish you'd never been born when you go through hell."

"Darla's right, wasn't she? You're completely insane," Angelus said, laughing to himself. "And you'll always be that way."

He left the room, leaving her alone. She stared after him, wondering what it was she could do now. She had nothing left. No family, no life. But this was the start of a new life. They would be her family. Angelus and Darla, the demons who had tortured her... they were the only family she had left.

1880

Drusilla threw her arms around William. His eyes widened in surprise, but he put his arms around her as well.

"Did you miss me while you were out, love?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Oh yes," she said, burying her face into his shoulder and holding onto him tight, seeking comfort. She was craving his touch after spending so long with Angelus. She wanted someone who loved her as much as she loved him.

"I want to go out. Please?" she whispered to him.

"You already went out with Angelus, didn't you?"

"Yes, but now I want to go out with you. There's something I want to show you."

"Anything for you, Dru," William said. He'd taken a new name now, but Drusilla still used his older one. It was the name he'd had when he met her. When she had found him, crying in that alley after being cast out by those fools.

They headed out. The sky was pale blue, no longer completely full of the night's darkness. They would have to hurry.

"Where are we going, Dru?" her William asked.

"Shush," she said. "You'll see."

William didn't try to argue. He never really did, not with her. With Angelus and Darla he certainly did, but he just went along with whatever she wanted. Usually at least. If he really thought they were in danger he usually tried to stop her. It was sweet of him. He was very sweet to her.

They arrived where she had been leading them. The cemetery.

"What are we doing here then, Dru? Visiting old victims of yours?"

She shook her head. "Not victims, no. Not victims of mine, that is. Very much victims, but they would never have been mine."

"So who...?"

She carried on walking, not quite able to find the words to answer his question. She found the graves, and knelt down by them.

Four graves. One for her mother, one for her uncle, one each for her sisters. William sat beside her, putting his arm around her, seemingly aware that he shouldn't speak here.

"Who were they?" William asked after some time.

"Cannot you tell? They were you."

"Me?"

"Yes. You. And Darla. And my Angel."

William still seemed confused, although Drusilla had already explained it to him. "Your family," he said, after a while. "Your human family. The one he killed."

"Yeah," Drusilla said. She rested her head on William's shoulder and he stroked her hair, as if trying to calm her. She wasn't sure he even really noticed he was doing it, but she appreciated it. Such a gentle touch felt good to her. Good, but disarming, after spending so long with Angelus. Her William was nothing like Angelus. He would never hurt her, she knew that. He really, truly loved her.

Drusilla always dreaded this day. But maybe she didn't have to anymore.

Okay, so that was the longest one-shot I've ever written. The title was taken from an Emilie Autumn song, although it doesn't have much to do with it. The song suits Drusilla very well, I think. Anyway, please tell me what you think of the story.