Chapter Two
Turning off the television Clem began to complain to Spike. "Spike, what wrong? You've been so moody ever since you came back."
"Tell me what do you think the slayer deserves above all?" Spike asked.
"I don't understand," Clem answered.
Ignoring what Clem had said Spike continued to ask questions to no one in particular. "You ever think another go with a vamp with a soul would be it?"
Realizing what Spike meant Clem asked, "How is that possible?"
"Ever 'ear of a demon, in Africa, grants destiny. That is to say, he pushes it forward," Spike said.
"So it was your destiny to have a soul?" Clem asked trying to figure out what had happened to someone he considered his best friend.
"Seems so," Spike said, "never thought I'd see the day when I lost my soul."
London, 1880; Inside a Victorian Parlor William sat composing poetry off in the corner of a dinner party as a waiter approached him offering hors d'oeurvres.
Ignoring the purpose of the waiter's visit William asked, "Oh, quickly! What's another word for gleaming? It's a perfectly perfect word," he continued, "as many words go but the bother is nothing rhymes, you see." The waiter smiled mockingly as a young dark haired woman entered the party.
"Cecily." William whispered as he turned to his poem with renewed purpose. After jotting down several lines he got up to move through the party towards her.
As William walked toward Cecily a young dark haired male aristocrat interrupted him. "Ah, William, Favour us with your opinion," he said with a London accent, "what do you make of this rash of disappearances sweeping through our town? Animals or thieves?"
"I prefer not to think of such dark, ugly business at all. That's what the police are for," answered William with a glance towards Cecily, "I prefer placing my energies into creating things of beauty.
As more aristocrats join the conversation a blond haired gentleman in his mid-30s grabbed the piece of paper William was holding as he announced, "I see. Well don't withhold William."
His female companion finished for him, "Rescue us from a dreary topic."
Making a quiet attempt to get it back William begged, "Careful. The inks still wet, please, it's not finished."
"Don't be shy," said the blond aristocrat as he began to read William's poem, "My heart expands 'tis grown a bulge in it/inspired by your beauty, effulgent." At hearing the word everyone began to laugh. "Effulgent?" the brown haired man continued, "And that's actually one of his better compositions."
Angered William snatched the poem as he glanced toward Cecily. Noticing she was walking away he ran to cut her off.
When he got to her, he pulled her over to the side and in one word asked permission to speak. "Cecily?"
She quickly turned and sighed in a very American accent for the area in which she was presently living, "Oh. Leave me alone."
William quickly said, "Oh, they're vulgarians," referring to the other guests, "they're not like you and I."
Trying to comprehend what the man before her had just said Cecily asked, "You and I? I'm going to ask you a very personal question and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand? After a quick nod she continued, "Your poetry, it's.they're.not written about me, are they?"
"They're about how I feel," William replied.
"Yes, but are they about me?" she asked again.
William hesitated before saying, "Every syllable."
"Oh my," she said almost losing breath at answer.
Trying not to scare her away he continued, "Oh, I know it's sudden and.please, if they're no good, they're only words but.the feeling behind them.I love you, Cecily."
"Please stop!" she begged.
Ignoring her he continued, "I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that." He took a deep breath before continue, "that you try to see me."
Having enough of this Cecily finally cut him off, "I do see. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me." Cecily than got and walked away leaving William in tears before he got up and ran out into the streets.
Stumbling through the streets William began ripping up his poems until he bumped into a group of passers-by, causing him to drop his pages. "Watch where you're going!" he yelled as bent down to pick up the torn sheets before heading a nearby alley.
"And I wonder.what possible catastrophe came crashing down from heaven and brought this dashing stranger to tears."
Without turning his head to see who the strange at the mouth of the alley was coming from William just muttered, "Nothing. I wish to be alone."
Ignoring him she continued, "Oh, I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strength, his vision, his glory." Nervous William began to back away, but she just continued. "That and burning baby fish swimming all around your head.
"That's quite close enough," William warned, "I've heard tales of London pickpockets. You'll not be getting my purse."
Laughing at the ridiculous comment Drusilla said, "Don't need a purse." Than as she pointed to his heart and head in succession Drusilla commented, "Your wealth lies here.and here. In the spirit and.imagination. You walk in worlds others can't begin to imagine."
Riveted by the insight into his character William gasped, "Oh yes! I mean, no. I mean.mother's expecting me."
Snapping open the collar of his shirt she whispered into his ear, "I see what you want. Something glowing and glistening. Something.effulgent."
Beside himself at her use of the word 'effulgent,' William could only stare at her in shock.
"Do you want it?" she asked.
Never wanting anything more in his short existence William replied, "Oh yes!" As she pulled his hand to her chest he continued, "oh my, yes!"
As Drusilla lowered her face for a moment her fangs descended. As William tried to back off more confused than scared Drusilla pulled his neck towards her mouth. Then as she sunk her teeth into his neck William's cries of pain quickly became moans of pleasure as his human existence ended.
Sunnydale, 2002; "It was her fault!" yelled Spike.
"What's whose fault?" Clem asked.
"She made me a monster. She took away my soul," Spike accused getting angrier.
"Who?" Clem repeated.
"Drusilla." he hissed out slowly.
"Who?" Clem asked again.
"Bloody sire," Spike stated.
"Oh," was all Clem could say understanding fully Spike's well placed anger.
Turning off the television Clem began to complain to Spike. "Spike, what wrong? You've been so moody ever since you came back."
"Tell me what do you think the slayer deserves above all?" Spike asked.
"I don't understand," Clem answered.
Ignoring what Clem had said Spike continued to ask questions to no one in particular. "You ever think another go with a vamp with a soul would be it?"
Realizing what Spike meant Clem asked, "How is that possible?"
"Ever 'ear of a demon, in Africa, grants destiny. That is to say, he pushes it forward," Spike said.
"So it was your destiny to have a soul?" Clem asked trying to figure out what had happened to someone he considered his best friend.
"Seems so," Spike said, "never thought I'd see the day when I lost my soul."
London, 1880; Inside a Victorian Parlor William sat composing poetry off in the corner of a dinner party as a waiter approached him offering hors d'oeurvres.
Ignoring the purpose of the waiter's visit William asked, "Oh, quickly! What's another word for gleaming? It's a perfectly perfect word," he continued, "as many words go but the bother is nothing rhymes, you see." The waiter smiled mockingly as a young dark haired woman entered the party.
"Cecily." William whispered as he turned to his poem with renewed purpose. After jotting down several lines he got up to move through the party towards her.
As William walked toward Cecily a young dark haired male aristocrat interrupted him. "Ah, William, Favour us with your opinion," he said with a London accent, "what do you make of this rash of disappearances sweeping through our town? Animals or thieves?"
"I prefer not to think of such dark, ugly business at all. That's what the police are for," answered William with a glance towards Cecily, "I prefer placing my energies into creating things of beauty.
As more aristocrats join the conversation a blond haired gentleman in his mid-30s grabbed the piece of paper William was holding as he announced, "I see. Well don't withhold William."
His female companion finished for him, "Rescue us from a dreary topic."
Making a quiet attempt to get it back William begged, "Careful. The inks still wet, please, it's not finished."
"Don't be shy," said the blond aristocrat as he began to read William's poem, "My heart expands 'tis grown a bulge in it/inspired by your beauty, effulgent." At hearing the word everyone began to laugh. "Effulgent?" the brown haired man continued, "And that's actually one of his better compositions."
Angered William snatched the poem as he glanced toward Cecily. Noticing she was walking away he ran to cut her off.
When he got to her, he pulled her over to the side and in one word asked permission to speak. "Cecily?"
She quickly turned and sighed in a very American accent for the area in which she was presently living, "Oh. Leave me alone."
William quickly said, "Oh, they're vulgarians," referring to the other guests, "they're not like you and I."
Trying to comprehend what the man before her had just said Cecily asked, "You and I? I'm going to ask you a very personal question and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand? After a quick nod she continued, "Your poetry, it's.they're.not written about me, are they?"
"They're about how I feel," William replied.
"Yes, but are they about me?" she asked again.
William hesitated before saying, "Every syllable."
"Oh my," she said almost losing breath at answer.
Trying not to scare her away he continued, "Oh, I know it's sudden and.please, if they're no good, they're only words but.the feeling behind them.I love you, Cecily."
"Please stop!" she begged.
Ignoring her he continued, "I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that." He took a deep breath before continue, "that you try to see me."
Having enough of this Cecily finally cut him off, "I do see. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me." Cecily than got and walked away leaving William in tears before he got up and ran out into the streets.
Stumbling through the streets William began ripping up his poems until he bumped into a group of passers-by, causing him to drop his pages. "Watch where you're going!" he yelled as bent down to pick up the torn sheets before heading a nearby alley.
"And I wonder.what possible catastrophe came crashing down from heaven and brought this dashing stranger to tears."
Without turning his head to see who the strange at the mouth of the alley was coming from William just muttered, "Nothing. I wish to be alone."
Ignoring him she continued, "Oh, I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strength, his vision, his glory." Nervous William began to back away, but she just continued. "That and burning baby fish swimming all around your head.
"That's quite close enough," William warned, "I've heard tales of London pickpockets. You'll not be getting my purse."
Laughing at the ridiculous comment Drusilla said, "Don't need a purse." Than as she pointed to his heart and head in succession Drusilla commented, "Your wealth lies here.and here. In the spirit and.imagination. You walk in worlds others can't begin to imagine."
Riveted by the insight into his character William gasped, "Oh yes! I mean, no. I mean.mother's expecting me."
Snapping open the collar of his shirt she whispered into his ear, "I see what you want. Something glowing and glistening. Something.effulgent."
Beside himself at her use of the word 'effulgent,' William could only stare at her in shock.
"Do you want it?" she asked.
Never wanting anything more in his short existence William replied, "Oh yes!" As she pulled his hand to her chest he continued, "oh my, yes!"
As Drusilla lowered her face for a moment her fangs descended. As William tried to back off more confused than scared Drusilla pulled his neck towards her mouth. Then as she sunk her teeth into his neck William's cries of pain quickly became moans of pleasure as his human existence ended.
Sunnydale, 2002; "It was her fault!" yelled Spike.
"What's whose fault?" Clem asked.
"She made me a monster. She took away my soul," Spike accused getting angrier.
"Who?" Clem repeated.
"Drusilla." he hissed out slowly.
"Who?" Clem asked again.
"Bloody sire," Spike stated.
"Oh," was all Clem could say understanding fully Spike's well placed anger.