THE STARS' SONG
By Konnie
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, Joss does. A/N: What is this? I'm not entirely sure. I just thought about it and HAD to write it. So, I hope you like it, if not understand it. I think it's pretty clear, in a cryptic kinda way. It's also really short so, read it, it might be worth it. Ah, and review. We feed on reviews, you see? You don't review, our inspiration dies of starvation. Enjoy! RATING: PG-13 TIME LINE: Way before Joss W. was born. Somewhere around the 1880's
"The stars are singing for me, William!" Drusilla chanted, twirling around to the silent music.
"Spike." the blonde vampire corrected her, not lifting his eyes from the newspaper. "I'm Spike now, remember luv?" She came to a stop in front of him, smiling, and patted his head.
"Silly boy." She said simply and resumed her dancing.
It was a cool night in London. As it was described in the books, the fog made it almost impossible to see further than a few feet away from where one was standing. Not a good night for hunting. Surely there wasn't enough people on the streets. Not that it was a real inconvenience. The previous owners of the house they were now occupying were tied up and gagged next to the fireplace, watching horrified as the four vampires made themselves at home on their living room. William the bloody wasn't one for mind games and torture. He didn't have the patience for it. But living with Angelus, he'd learned to bare it. Besides, seeing those stuffed shirts squirm in terror while they dispatched their servants, knowing they were next, had been fun for a while. There was a fire on, giving the room a homey aura. Darla and Angelus shared a meal a few feet away, Drusilla was lost in her own deluded world, and he was sitting on a fancy Victorian chair in front of the hearth, looking almost like a gentleman. His clothes weren't as crumpled as usual, since he hadn't been in a fight for over two nights. Drusilla had seemed more interested on the star's singing than on him. He'd tried to convince her to help him kill time, if nothing else, on another, more suitable room of the house, but she hadn't complied. He'd entertained himself with a few issues of the Strand the owners had laying around. He could pay this Doyle bloke a visit, make him write a mystery with vampires on it. 'I wonder what that nancy boy, copper wannabe would do if he came across the lot of us.' He'd thought. He wouldn't admit it, but he was sure he'd be buying the Strand from now on to read those stories. Well, not buying, per se. When there weren't anymore Sherlock Holmes stories to occupy his mind, he'd switched to the newspaper. He was growing bored and impatient. All that quiet, comfortable silence was getting on his nerves. An article caught his attention. He leaned forward on his sit, reading intently. He smirked.
"Clever little bugger." He said smiling.
"What, William? You discovered who the killer is on another one of you children stories?" Darla said, mocking him. He ignored her.
"Really Will, all that *private investigator* crap. I find it ridiculous, as much as boring. Why do you like it so much?" Angelus added, without as much spite on his voice as usual. 'Must be in a good mood', William thought to himself. 'A good night's torture will do that to the poof.'
"Nah, it's just this bloke on the paper. Real smart, kinda want to meet him." He answered, trying not to show much interest. Before Angelus could ask about it, Drusilla begun chanting again.
"One, two, three, four, little whores dead at my door five, six, come and see, seven is the one for me!" she clapped her hands, jumping up and down in glee. William burst out laughing.
"Wonderful pet! You certainly have a gift for rhyme." She came closer to him and whispered in his ear.
"The stars are singing, little boy. They sing to mummy about viscera and scalpels. I wanna go see!" she said the last part with a pout, and William's eyes sparkled with recognition. She continued. "Seven is tonight, my sweet William. Miss Edith says seven is a bad number." He stood up, putting his arms around her waist, joining her in the dance.
"Well, my dark princess, if the stars sing, then we dance, yeah?" he laughed. Drusilla tilted her head backwards in delight. Darla rolled her eyes.
"Are you sure madness isn't contagious, Angelus?" he answered with a chuckle as he dug his fangs on the maid's neck.
"We're going out." William said finally, taking Dru's arm and dragging her towards the entrance.
"Where are you going, boy?" Angelus asked, but they were out the door before he could finish the sentence. "Children." He added with a paternal sigh, and snorted.
The fog hadn't cleared. It was still a few hours before dawn, when a young, beautiful woman of doubtful reputation found herself standing alone in a dark alley. There was hardly any sound coming from the deserted streets of London, which helped her hear the sound of footsteps a while before actually seeing the person causing it. It was a man, short and weird looking. He was wearing a worn out tweed suit, a bowler hat and hid his eyes behind dark blue lenses. He walked awkwardly up to where she was standing. He stopped in front of her and clenched his medical bag tighter to his chest. He bowed his head as a salute.
"Good night, miss. Or should I say good morning? What are you doing alone at this hours. Who knows what kind of scourge you may find in a place like this." He gave her a vicious smile and stepped closer to her. Before he could produce another line, someone yanked him violently by the arm, and he was face to face with another man.
"She's not alone, mate." The voice came, filled with amusement. The bag fell to the ground and the young woman cheered as the dull, grey eyes behind the glasses widened in pain and fear. Finally, the body fell lifeless on the pavement, and William stared at Drusilla affectionately.
"Did you like it, pet? I think there's still enough for you. Got a little carried away, sorry." He smiled apologetically. She clapped her hands again.
"It was fun!" she yelled excitedly.
"Yeah, it was. Could have been better, though. Should have let the git live long enough to ask him his real name. Well,." he shrugged, taking Drusilla's arm in his. "That's it then." He waved at the corpse. "Night, Jack, sleep tight." The two vampires walked away, laughing and chanting, and dancing until they were out of sight, engulfed by the thick fog.
THE END
A/N: you did realize who dies in this story, right? I just thought it would be fun. Hope you liked it, thanks for reading.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, Joss does. A/N: What is this? I'm not entirely sure. I just thought about it and HAD to write it. So, I hope you like it, if not understand it. I think it's pretty clear, in a cryptic kinda way. It's also really short so, read it, it might be worth it. Ah, and review. We feed on reviews, you see? You don't review, our inspiration dies of starvation. Enjoy! RATING: PG-13 TIME LINE: Way before Joss W. was born. Somewhere around the 1880's
"The stars are singing for me, William!" Drusilla chanted, twirling around to the silent music.
"Spike." the blonde vampire corrected her, not lifting his eyes from the newspaper. "I'm Spike now, remember luv?" She came to a stop in front of him, smiling, and patted his head.
"Silly boy." She said simply and resumed her dancing.
It was a cool night in London. As it was described in the books, the fog made it almost impossible to see further than a few feet away from where one was standing. Not a good night for hunting. Surely there wasn't enough people on the streets. Not that it was a real inconvenience. The previous owners of the house they were now occupying were tied up and gagged next to the fireplace, watching horrified as the four vampires made themselves at home on their living room. William the bloody wasn't one for mind games and torture. He didn't have the patience for it. But living with Angelus, he'd learned to bare it. Besides, seeing those stuffed shirts squirm in terror while they dispatched their servants, knowing they were next, had been fun for a while. There was a fire on, giving the room a homey aura. Darla and Angelus shared a meal a few feet away, Drusilla was lost in her own deluded world, and he was sitting on a fancy Victorian chair in front of the hearth, looking almost like a gentleman. His clothes weren't as crumpled as usual, since he hadn't been in a fight for over two nights. Drusilla had seemed more interested on the star's singing than on him. He'd tried to convince her to help him kill time, if nothing else, on another, more suitable room of the house, but she hadn't complied. He'd entertained himself with a few issues of the Strand the owners had laying around. He could pay this Doyle bloke a visit, make him write a mystery with vampires on it. 'I wonder what that nancy boy, copper wannabe would do if he came across the lot of us.' He'd thought. He wouldn't admit it, but he was sure he'd be buying the Strand from now on to read those stories. Well, not buying, per se. When there weren't anymore Sherlock Holmes stories to occupy his mind, he'd switched to the newspaper. He was growing bored and impatient. All that quiet, comfortable silence was getting on his nerves. An article caught his attention. He leaned forward on his sit, reading intently. He smirked.
"Clever little bugger." He said smiling.
"What, William? You discovered who the killer is on another one of you children stories?" Darla said, mocking him. He ignored her.
"Really Will, all that *private investigator* crap. I find it ridiculous, as much as boring. Why do you like it so much?" Angelus added, without as much spite on his voice as usual. 'Must be in a good mood', William thought to himself. 'A good night's torture will do that to the poof.'
"Nah, it's just this bloke on the paper. Real smart, kinda want to meet him." He answered, trying not to show much interest. Before Angelus could ask about it, Drusilla begun chanting again.
"One, two, three, four, little whores dead at my door five, six, come and see, seven is the one for me!" she clapped her hands, jumping up and down in glee. William burst out laughing.
"Wonderful pet! You certainly have a gift for rhyme." She came closer to him and whispered in his ear.
"The stars are singing, little boy. They sing to mummy about viscera and scalpels. I wanna go see!" she said the last part with a pout, and William's eyes sparkled with recognition. She continued. "Seven is tonight, my sweet William. Miss Edith says seven is a bad number." He stood up, putting his arms around her waist, joining her in the dance.
"Well, my dark princess, if the stars sing, then we dance, yeah?" he laughed. Drusilla tilted her head backwards in delight. Darla rolled her eyes.
"Are you sure madness isn't contagious, Angelus?" he answered with a chuckle as he dug his fangs on the maid's neck.
"We're going out." William said finally, taking Dru's arm and dragging her towards the entrance.
"Where are you going, boy?" Angelus asked, but they were out the door before he could finish the sentence. "Children." He added with a paternal sigh, and snorted.
The fog hadn't cleared. It was still a few hours before dawn, when a young, beautiful woman of doubtful reputation found herself standing alone in a dark alley. There was hardly any sound coming from the deserted streets of London, which helped her hear the sound of footsteps a while before actually seeing the person causing it. It was a man, short and weird looking. He was wearing a worn out tweed suit, a bowler hat and hid his eyes behind dark blue lenses. He walked awkwardly up to where she was standing. He stopped in front of her and clenched his medical bag tighter to his chest. He bowed his head as a salute.
"Good night, miss. Or should I say good morning? What are you doing alone at this hours. Who knows what kind of scourge you may find in a place like this." He gave her a vicious smile and stepped closer to her. Before he could produce another line, someone yanked him violently by the arm, and he was face to face with another man.
"She's not alone, mate." The voice came, filled with amusement. The bag fell to the ground and the young woman cheered as the dull, grey eyes behind the glasses widened in pain and fear. Finally, the body fell lifeless on the pavement, and William stared at Drusilla affectionately.
"Did you like it, pet? I think there's still enough for you. Got a little carried away, sorry." He smiled apologetically. She clapped her hands again.
"It was fun!" she yelled excitedly.
"Yeah, it was. Could have been better, though. Should have let the git live long enough to ask him his real name. Well,." he shrugged, taking Drusilla's arm in his. "That's it then." He waved at the corpse. "Night, Jack, sleep tight." The two vampires walked away, laughing and chanting, and dancing until they were out of sight, engulfed by the thick fog.
THE END
A/N: you did realize who dies in this story, right? I just thought it would be fun. Hope you liked it, thanks for reading.