Hello, this is Drusilla. As I am writing this tale, I learned a few things long the way. I am not a insane as I thought, I am not as cruel as I was previously known of being, and I can be a good person if I need to be. I'm like Angel (or Angelus if you prefer): conflicted and heroic when required. At the time of writing this, I am 197 years old, yet I have seen many things. I saw Spike, who I once loved. I saw Angel, who was my sire. I saw Buffy, who would be my enemy.
I know what you are thinking. Why do I know of the events where I am not involved? Simple: This year, The Doctor came to my current home in Bastille. Despite me saying goodbye to him forever, he came and we talked about when we were together. He told me why he was at my first home in London, as well as reminding me of the fist fight between me and the now-deceased Darla. I will try to put this story out to the world, and I hope that anyone who reads this knows of the times of me and The Doctor. Until then, I bid to thee, adieu.