Disclaimer: I don't own Drusilla or Spike, or any of the characters you recognize from Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer. 

This is my first attempt at a Buffy fic, and I'm trying to grasp the most difficult character to get (in my opinion): Drusilla.  This is in her POV, a short ficlet.  Enjoy!

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        The stars don't tell me the future or anything you know.  I only hear their whispering, their little chats; they're always bickering about something or other.  I don't think they get enough attention up there, even though they're so pretty, and they're not happy about that.  Not happy at all.

        I know why the stars grumble at night, because I have the same troubles as they do.  There's not enough attention down here for me now; I'm just a vampire.  I used to be a Princess, even Grandmummy gave me presents sometimes when she was happy.  But our wonderful family is all scattered now, I can feel them screaming in my head…they're so loud sometimes, I can't bear it…but other times I want them to shriek louder.  Just so I know they're still there. 

        Angelus has his soul: a dirty, rotten thing banging away inside his lovely chest, tainting all the gorgeous evil he once had.  Grandmummy is dead again.  I thought maybe they could bring her back again, and we could play with the people like we did last time this happened, but I waited for a long time and no one sent for me.  Spike, my darling William, for once has followed his Grandfather's example- he has a soul too…and that Slayer.  Not the wood haired one, the one with hair like corn…he loves her. 

        He used to love me.  We used to be feared and we used to take care of each other.  Prague made me weak, and Spike made me strong.  A church made him sleep, and I woke him up.  It used to be so good, we shared our food, we shared our deaths.  Miss Tabitha, Miss Edith's sister you see, she once told me William loved the Slayer.  I already knew that though of course- I could see it in his eyes.  They swam with the Slayer's blood, blue with her power.  But I hoped I was wrong, even though I hardly ever am…I'm a naughty girl and they punish me with bad pictures in my head.  They flash and writhe and beg for mercy, and even now I can see his face on hers, and I don't even think he can tell the difference anymore.

        "We'll tear this world up Dru, we'll smash it like Angelus at a Christmas Party and leave the bits for everyone to choke on," he once said to me, and I loved him.  I always have.  But she never will, he knows this, and still he won't come back and kill with me.  I tried to make him see, he's still my bad Spike, the one I made, but he wouldn't listen.  Her sweet breath is playing in his head and he can't hear anything else. 

        So now I just listen to the stars talk, because I can't talk to anyone but myself anymore.  I'm quickly becoming a bore, I never was as good with words as my William was.  My family divorced itself, they're all gone, and they'll never come back.  While they spin 'round and 'round in their worlds I'm stuck in mine, with blood running constantly down my lips and onto my dress.  My pretty white dress has red specks all over it, there's a movie playing in my head, the stars won't stay still and I'm left here with nothing but my fangs to remind me: You're Drusilla, pet.  Go eat something.