Author's Note: I was re-watching the episodes "The Trial" and "Reunion" the other day, and I suddenly came up with the idea for this one-shot piece from Drusilla's POV. This is my first fanfiction in five years, so be gentle but honest with any reviews you leave. ^_^

(It includes elements from both "Buffy" and "Angel" episodes -- "Becoming Part Two" (Buffy), "The Trial", "Reunion", "Redefinition" (all Angel), and "Crush" (Buffy) are all referenced here.)

Dedicated to my Jean.

The fire blazed within me. It burned... It burned. Like the millions of stars in the sky, when they talk to me. They all cry out with their voices, crying out for their mummy. "Mummy... mummy…" They say, each of them does. "Are you my mummy?" All I can do is take them inside me, and call them my babies. My wee ones. My deadly darlings. I tell them all to fly, fly, fly far away from me, and to come back to tell me all of their secrets. They tell me lies. Sweet, sweet lies about the black blanket they lie under in the day. I need to keep shaking them, you see. I shake and shake and shake, trying to wring the truth from their pretty little fingers that burn so well.

I still remember how soft he'd become. Almost like putty in me hands. He'd look into my eyes with his like daggers and tell me that I wasn't his little bird anymore. He used to call me his. His own. His Black Goddess. I was his everything once… now I'm just a pile of dead limbs. Not even his little devilish morsel. All I have are the stars, whispering their sweet circles of memories in the dark. Stars which burned bright in my eyes, boring holes in the back of my skull so the fire wouldn't overheat my insides. Such fire. Such life as they'd never felt.

I still remember that itty bitty baby. All babies need their mummies, don't you know? The stars left that in my dead beating heart, luv. Itty bitty baby waiting for her mummy's milk. I remember my grandmum's itty bitty baby milk. She almost took it from Daddy… but wait, no. That wasn't Daddy. It was never Daddy. Such a soul sick creature – never thinking of his own.

It was the Angel beast. He almost took my itty bitty baby from me, but she wouldn't have it. She was my grandmum all over again, strong and powerful as the wind. Like music. So much like music that I felt like dancing in the sea of stars that surrounded me. They were like rag dolls, he and I. She was so cross with her new mummy that she threw me about. It frightened me. Frightened me so that I could see the sky's sun. The sun burns. Burned almost as sweetly as fresh death, so lovely and light. Light as the porcelain on dollies.

I like dollies.

Mummy once gave me a dolly for my birthday – she used to give me cakes and flowers. My sisters loved lemon cake. I can see them now with the stars, eating them with their tiny little pale fingers, sucking on them with such delicacy. Eating cakes shaped like the moonlight so sweet in my veins now. I wonder if he knew that. I wonder if grandmum knew that she would be my sweet, swaddling little baby as she writhed like the beast. I wonder if they would still play. Run and catch. Run and catch. I remember rocking my grandmum in the coffin. She was so like my dolly. Engulfed in stars and cake and tea. Daddy always said that she loved places with views. I gave her the stars on her birthday.

Can't remember what my mummy gave me for my last birthday…

Grandmum was always cross with me. Angelus too. I was once their biddy little baby in the pram. Mummy even bought me new clothes and baubles. They shake me all over. Make me cry out to my stars. Blood sings so delicately in my little veins. Skin shook as Daddy gave me my first pacifier. And I suck. Suck. Sucked.

Like grandmum did when I gave her all those stars. I gave her a biddy baby drink, and she swayed in time with me as I gave her what Daddy gave me. Time with the stars. But there was no Daddy. There never would be any Daddy. Only burning and badness and pain. Pain that I loved so, that I gave my William, my Spike. Pain that I wanted to share with my stars and my darlings. Big, black pain that would shroud them in a haze. So much suffering I would give them. So much regret.

Come, my darlings. Come to your darling mummy. Shield her from the fire of what she lost. I am the sky, the night, the despair. I want to give her the blackness she gave me. Make Angel lose his wings. Give them burning, burning, burning light. Such light that it tears the flesh from bottom to top, top to bottom. Make them all gone. Gone, gone, gone. Like the flame-cat lapping at their last meal, hungry for what mum didn't leave behind. But I will leave something behind for them. Something that reeks of death. Dank, dark, and pitiful.

Make the world reek of death. Leave mummy all alone, big round tummy with a wee terror in store. Daddy will never be home again… no more spankings on Tuesdays. No more dollies from the China shop from Spike or Daddy.

Her eyes widened in the day. Look, grandmum, look. Death. For all to see. In all its beauty and despair and freshness. That is yours now. And daddy isn't home anymore. Just a biddy biddy baby.

And he'll go boom.