A few months had passed since the days of Prague. Django and Drusilla had had no further run ins with the vampire hunters, for the remainder of their holiday. By this time they were in Scotland. What had happened to them in Florence and Prague was just a distant memory. Or at least the more painful experiences were.

"Oh, Brave Sir Knight!" Drusilla cried in ecstasy and laughter. "Save me from the bad vampire hunters. I think they want to kill me!" She fell into laughter again. The only bad thing about this game was trying to keep a straight face.

"I'll save you little lady!" Django gasped. He delivered it as boldly as he could, while grinding his hips into Drusilla's in a steady rhythm. What a jolly wicked game they were having!

"Vampire hunters always make the bed creak so!" Drusilla writhed under Django's gentle but firm ministrations. "Here comes the big stake!"

"You killed my brother! Prepare to die!" Django pretended to sob theatrically, his hand lightly squeezing Drusilla's nipple. His mouth nibbling lightly over his dark princess's shoulder.

"Your brother is a cherry tree." Drusilla teased, simulated breathing becoming shallower now. "We plucked the fruit from him, Brave Sir Knight and I did!" And then they were off the bed and on the floor with a thump.

****

A little later and they were still at it on the floor, although their little game had died down a bit. Django was gently tracing his fingers over the curve of Drusilla's breasts and kissing them. His other hand began to work down between her legs. Drusilla groaned with pleasure. Her head rolled around the floor in simpatico with Django's snaking fingers. A few minutes later and Drusilla decided it should be Django's turn and locked her legs around him, turning over and getting him beneath her. She gave him just a few little nibbles. Enough to draw the tiniest bit of blood and then began to kiss his chest, moving sensually downward, an inch at a time.

A little later on. Django and Drusilla lay together, still not bothering to move from the floor. They were quite content. Drusilla kissed Django on the chest a little and caressed his sweaty hair. "We shall have to get up soon, love." she whispered. "You shall be wanting to shower too, I expect for our big night out." Dru lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, just for a little bit. "Will Brave Sir Knight protect me from the vampire hunters tonight?"

Django had been staring at the ceiling. He let his glance move to Drusilla and he could see, that she was indeed grinning wickedly at him. "Your Brave Sir Knight is gone forever!" Django mimicked the stuffiness he imagined for the vampire hunters. "Prepare to die, foul fiend of darkness!" Drusilla squealed with delight and giggles. It was all so ridiculous, she reflected. How silly such people must be.

****

Django couldn't help feeling nervous, crossing the road with Drusilla, on their way to the address given. This was to be the night, he would finally get to show off his girlfriend to some of his friends. And he was eager that the night should go without a hitch. Drusilla was getting fidgety as she walked beside him. "When can we go for a drink, love?"

"Soon." Django promised. "My friend Jim, wanted us to get him here first before we meet the others." Django had never frequented this part of Glasgow and wasn't sure of the location.

"But we've been up this street before." Dru protested. "Miss Edith would like an ice lolly."

Django had had his doubts about this of course. "Dru, this is supposed to be a night out at the pub. Do you really think bringing Miss Edith was the right idea?" He so wanted his Dru to get along with everyone and make a good impression. He just couldn't be sure that carrying a doll around with her would be the best way to ensure that.

"But I overheard her trying to persuade Lady Jessica to set fire to the other dollies' hair." Drusilla's lip trembled a bit, a sign the question upset her. "Without Miss Edith's influence, her co-conspirator will just go to sleep and behave herself. I didn't want the house to burn down love!"

"I hope it doesn't." Django agreed. "I left my rare Doors picture disc at home." He realised that Drusilla was beginning to lag behind him a bit. He turned and saw her standing, trembling at him.

"Are you cross with me, pet?"

"What? Of course not, Dru." Django hugged her. "I don't know where you get your ideas like this from. I'm never cross with you." Django could never argue with her for long. Besides, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that Miss Edith had played an important part, in his meeting his Dru, in the first place. "I'm just nervous I guess, because I haven't seen any of my friends in quite some time. I've been busy haven't I?" Django kissed Drusilla on the cheek and caressed Miss Edith on the head. Drusilla seemed less upset with him.

Eventually they found the place. A few old buildings converted into one. They'd had to go down a few side streets to see the seedy sign that told them this was indeed the address. Immediately Django had wished that he had insisted on meeting Jim at the pub with everyone else.

Even this darkly lit, it was clear that Django and Drusilla were descending into the heart of an S & M brothel. Drusilla was fascinated. This wasn't what she expected from meeting Django's friends at all. It made her more curious to meet them. Not all the action was confined to private rooms. The place was like a fabulous neon Goth warehouse. Much of it was running around rampant out in the open. Drusilla found herself drawn to the nuns of course, and couldn't help herself from going over to chat with some of them.

Django eventually worked out who was in charge (well it was a lucky guess rather) from the amount of PVC she wore. He explained, unflatteringly as possible, who he was looking for and that he'd been told to meet here. "Oh yes! I know the one." the voluptuous woman rolled her eyes. "He's just round the back room here. I'll take you to him." Django eased Drusilla away from her new friends, tugging gently on the hem of her lace shawl.

Django rolled his eyes to himself. Fancy telling them to meet here. Drusilla didn't seem to mind of course and seemed to find it all so charmingly naive. They were shown to a room, more an alcove off the back of the larger area. Jim was near naked and chained to a wall. A young woman in a school girl uniform was standing with a whip, chastising her customer. Apparently Jim was being a very bad dog. That seems a fair assessment, Django agreed.

As the couple and their friendly madam approached nearer, Jim eventually took notice of his visitors. He regarded them over the top of his Jason King moustache. "Hello Django. I'll just be down in a few minutes." He began to stare at Drusilla with that stoned way of his. "Whoooo's that?"

"Er....Drusilla!" Django spoke irritably. "My girlfriend that I wanted you all to meet? I knew it!" Django couldn't hide his annoyance. "You never bother to read any of my emails or listen to a bloody word I tell you, do you?" The madam smiled in understanding with Django as she went to see to other business.

Jim didn't answer this of course. Probably hadn't even been listening properly. "Hello Drusilla. I take it you like the same music as Django then?"

"I like to hear the moon whisper and for the blood to flow round in a nice curl." Drusilla revealed sweetly. Her eyes were wide, taking in the reality of Django's friend. What an amusing little fellow. Jim continued to stare at her in a way that made Django bristle and he began to ease her out of the way a bit.

"Stuart will probably be late as usual. Aarrrgh! I phoned him earlier and he said he'd slept in again. Aaarrrghhh!" Jim spoke quite casually, in between whippings, as if this was all quite normal. Stuart sleeping in was certainly normal. He had the annoying habit of sleeping past a certain time and then deciding to stay in bed all day. "I don't like The Crocus Bar. Aaarrggghhhh! It was Stuart and Stephen that picked that. I want to go somewhere else afterwards. I've got a new manuscript I want to show you. Eaarrrggghhh!"

Oh no, Django thought, not another one of Jim's manuscripts to have to sift through while at the pub. Worse, he was probably likely to be gibbering on about it all the way to The Crocus. Django started to speak. But it was hopeless.

"Aaarggh! What's that you were saying? Eeearrrrrgghhh! Yargghhhh!"

"Er, I think we'll wait for you outside Jim." Django glared at his friend for a few moments. Rolling his eyes again, he began to lead fascinated Drusilla away. The wide eyed look she gave, all that was missing for her was the popcorn and Jumbo sized Slushie. Django was pissed off and the night was just starting.

****

A pub somewhere in....does it matter really? Drusilla regarded Django's friends with a mixture of wonder, curiosity, amusement and revulsion. Mostly revulsion in Jim's case. Drusilla decided she found him less amusing when he wasn't being whipped. Now that his clothes were back on properly, he was wearing the long "Shaft" coat that Django had told her of. Of course, Jim had moaned enough to make sure they weren't in The Crocus Bar for long. Trouble was, he didn't like the next six places they tried either. Eventually they had all found a pub, not to Jim's taste of course, but by that time everyone else was sick of traipsing around and just piled in anyway. What was Jim going on about now?

Jim was grumbling away as he read one of his favourite tabloids (that he claimed to hate so much). "All this Pop Idols on TV! I'm a family man! I don't want my son to be exposed to this rot!" He banged the table with his fist. "Down with it all, I say!"

Stuart's drink got spilled as a result. "Oh come on Jim! That's enough of that. I better get myself a cloth to wipe this with." Stuart stood up annoyed as he saw that his trousers had gotten soaked. As usual, because it didn't directly concern Jim, he paid it no mind. Drusilla and Jim hadn't exactly hit it off. Drusilla found him to be very annoying and petty. He seemed to regard her as too refined and snooty. And he made not even the slightest attempt to understand any of her cryptic observations. Drusilla decided Jim was like a walrus with his Jason King moustache.

And poor Django looked so bored right now. Jim had forced him to look at his manuscript. Drusilla's heart went out to him and she decided to distract him. "The stars are out to play. Like little pinpricks of delicious violence raging in the cosmos. Can you see them, Django love?" On cue Jim just rolled his eyes and made derisive chuckles. Still, Django always appreciated her helpful remarks. He spooned another bit of delicious ice cream into her mouth. Mmmmm.

Poor Stephen seemed to have a phobia of any kind of mystical talk. As with Jim, he was right on cue as to Drusilla's comment. "Oh gosh!" he fluttered in his seat a bit and looked a bit panicky. "It's my round." Stephen shot up. "What does everyone want?" Drusilla liked Stephen. As the youngest of Django's friends (in his thirties), he was just like a big teddy bear. But his habit of getting all flustery was starting to make Drusilla feel a little nervous too.

"Can Miss Edith get another milk shake?" Drusilla asked sweetly. "Only she seems to have gone off the banana ones."

"Oh gosh! Woooaaahhh!" Stephen seemed to get a bit dizzy. As he was getting what everyone else wanted to drink, he spotted another of their friends had tracked them down. "There's Dave. Should I get him a drink too?"

"I wouldn't worry about it." Jim observed. "It'll be a while before he reaches us. Have you seen the amount of cigarette dowts between us and the door. Sure enough, Dave (the untidiest but second youngest of the bunch) started bending down and pocketing all the cigarette butts he could find, not noticing how many disgusted stares he got.

****

Later on, another pub. "1982 was quite a good year for me." Stuart concluded his story.

"I mostly listen to music from the 80s now." Stephen began. "I didn't like the new groups out then at the time though. I think it's more for the nostalgia because it was such a happy time in my life and that's why I like to listen to them now." He thought for a bit. "What do you think of Michelle, Stuart?"

"Oooooh," Stuart dragged his reflection out, in a kind of ecstasy. "I think she's voluptuous!"

"Yes." Stephen nodded. "That's what you always say." Stephen thought about it further and a grin came over his face. "You know how Michelle lives in the tower block. Would you say that she's living the high life?"

"We always seem to end up having the same conversations." Django whispered to Drusilla.

Jim was grumbling again. "Michelle won't have sex with anyone unless it's Jesus."

"Christians have their uses." Django reminded Jim. "After all the lions have to eat something." He and Jim guffawed at that one.

Drusilla looked a bit distressed at the two of them. "My sisters used to say their prayers every night with me. Little Anne, wouldn't sleep until Daddy said that God was watching over her and protecting her!"

Django realised his mistake and wanted to make up for it. "Oh, love!" He put his arm around his upset bunny and held her close. "I didn't mean your family. I'm sorry pet. I was just being silly." He hummed to her softly as he held her. Jim just leered lecherously as he stared at the two of them. Drusilla wanted to reach over and rip out his eyes!

No matter what anyone else had been talking about, Dave kept butting in and moaning about where he lived. "So, like I was saying, I'm just having a hell of a time with neighbours at the moment." As if everyone was actually listening to him with interest he went on. "Living next to a graveyard, you know what I mean. You just hear noises at all times of night!"

"My tummy hurts from all the ice cream." Drusilla whimpered. "And Miss Edith won't drink up her milk shakes."

"Oh come on." Jim chided Dave. "You never like anywhere you live, Dave. You didn't like living next door to Steve Marriot because of all the smoke and fire engines."

"And when you lived in Tokyo, you were complaining about Godzilla wrecking the neighbourhood all the time." Django added.

"Oa-woa-oooahhh gosh!" Stephen again.

Drusilla fled up in terror and ran to the exit. Django ran after her and they talked just at the door. "What's wrong love?"

"Those people!" Dru wrung her hands and looked fidgety.

Django was confused. "But you've been around people before."

"Not like those!" Drusilla quivered. "They're quite odd. They make bugs crawl under my skin." She glared as she saw Jim whispering in Dave's ear. "Jim just called me a snooty cow!"

Django turned and looked at his friends again. "Oh my god!" he said with realisation, turning back to her. "I'm so sorry Dru. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry if they scared you. Can't you just come back for a bit love. They're not quite so bad, once you get to know them."

Drusilla contemplated. "I left Miss Edith." she sulked, heading back to the table, non-committal. Django followed her in defeat. He so wanted to introduce Drusilla to his friends. But it didn't seem to be going well. He angrily thumped Jim on the back of the head before sitting down. He would know what it was for.

They tried to get back into the conversation again. Stuart was an odd one, Dru decided. He had been studying Spanish at college on and off for a few years. And yet when Django told him to sigue adelante, he didn't seem to have a clue what it meant. Drusilla knew that Django dubbed him "Stuart the Socialist Slayer" for his love of Margaret Thatcher and Tony Blair. He was a man near fifty.

"So what are you reading at the moment then?" Stuart asked Django.

"Jane Eyre." Django replied, knowing that it was Stuart's favourite book. "Gripping stuff. Took me a while though, because Dru's been keeping me busy with other things." The lovebirds exchanged a smirk here.

They spoke of books for a while and it became clear that Stuart was quite fond of The Brontes and Jane Austen, but didn't share Django's interest in F. Scott Fitzgerald. Jim didn't seem to read anything (except legalisation and pro-cannabis paraphernalia). "I don't know how you can read something like that." Jim scoffed arrogantly. Drusilla frowned. "All that stuff. Bluthering Tights, I call it."

Drusilla scowled. "It doesn't do to scoff dearie. Heathcliff and Cathy could easily tear you limb from limb if they so chose. They catch souls and keep them in bottles." Drusilla sniffed haughtily. "Don't make very good wine though. Made Angelus throw up all over poor Grandmama if I recall. They didn't make any cuddling sounds for weeks."

Everyone was staring at her of course. Jim just leered and made his vaguely chucklesome sounds. Django put his arm around his girl and held her close to him. He always found her stories fascinating anyway. Even if mention of old flames did tend to make him bristle at times. Drusilla sighed as she rearranged Miss Edith's hair to be more presentable.

****

Drusilla found Stephen to be very sweet but shy and awkward. Django had warned her of Stephen's being uncomfortable around talk of dreams or the occult before tonight, of course. Just about everything Drusilla said seemed to freak the poor boy out.

"Sometimes when the moon spreads it's wings like a butterfly," Drusilla was relating, feeling pleasantly tipsy, "you can still see some of The Old Ones watching us. Just waiting for their chance to come back and make it their world again." She mimicked what would happen in that event. "Grrrr! Rrraarrrggghhh!!!!" She pretended to claw and bite.

"Oh gosh!" Stephen spluttered, looking very nervous and disorientated. "I'm okay! I'm okay!" He waved his hand to stem off any assistance. As everyone was used to this though, nobody bothered to assist anyway.

Jim had been making a phone call on his mobile phone and was now fiddling about with it. "That's funny!" he mumbled. He spoke up louder to inform everyone of the great mystery. "I just made a five minute call there and it hasn't taken any money from my balance for it."

"Ohhhhh! Oh gosh!" Stephen swayed uncertainly in his seat. "Please don't talk about things like that Jim." Stephen leapt up. "I have to get some fresh air." he said, all panicky. Poor love, Dru thought.

"Do you think he'd still be like that as a vampire?" Drusilla whispered to Django.

"Dru, no!" Django shook his head at her.

"Okay!" Dru shrugged off the notion, quite casually. "Django, can I get another glass of wine?"

"Of course love." Django made a move to take Drusilla's glass to the bar with him.

"Oooh nooooo!" Jim moaned. "We're not having another drink here are we? Oh come on! Can't we go someplace else? I don't like it here."

Drusilla looked all beady eyes at Jim. "Django, my tummy tingles so."

"We're just heading out to the chip shop, we'll get you in the next pub then." Django said to the others, as he was getting up. "I'll wait for you at the chip shop pet." he whispered to Dru. "Try to get rid of any bloodstains before we meet up with the rest again."

****

Would you believe yet another pub? Drusilla should have been in better spirits. She'd had a nice snack in the alley and the moon had gleamed down on her, as if she were it's own special daughter. Things had gotten even worse on the drunken night out though. Another friend of the others had chanced to walk into the same bar and was now sitting with them. Annoying as Dru had found Jim all night, this Mark fellow was even worse. Infinitely more so. He seemed to like being annoying. All he talked about constantly were incredibly silly things. "Smurfs! Dolly buster! Baldrick!" he went on and on and on. Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap!

Drusilla watched Mark's tongue flapping and flailing around and listened for as long as she could bear it. Suddenly she grabbed the monstrous thing and ripped it out. It landed with a plop in someone's drink on the other side of the bar. "Barman! There's a tongue in my beer!" someone yelled for a refill. Mark registered shock and started getting all agitated as blood poured from his mouth. Of course, he couldn't say much about it though, Dru reflected. Tee hee hee! Django looked worriedly around to see what his friends' reactions would be. Jim just chuckled to himself.

Drusilla seemed quite content with herself. After a while, Jim's chuckles became high pitched girlish yelps of delight. Especially when Mark stumbled to his feet and ran out of the pub. Stuart decided to follow him. "Listen, someone better go with him to the hospital. He'll probably need a tongue transplant. No point in everyone going. I was thinking of heading off soon anyway."

Once Jim calmed down, it was immediately obvious that his disposition towards Drusilla had changed immensely. She had put herself on Jim's Christmas card list for life. "Oh that was great. I really really loved that." Jim yelped ecstatically. "Do you know how much I really hate when that guy goes on like that." Certainly no one left at the table seemed to be arguing. "I want to get everyone a round!" Jim stood up. He turned to Drusilla first. "What would Miss Edith like to drink?" Drusilla felt genuinely touched and tickled by it all.

****

Django went with Jim to carry the drinks over. "Oh thanks for bringing your girlfriend by the way." Jim was saying, in one of his rare sentimental moods. "She's really great! Oh I really hate that guy!"

Back at the table, Drusilla sat with Stephen, Dave and Miss Edith. Dave had been talking about his wild childhood and how Jimi Hendrix had given him a tab of acid in his milk bottle when he was young. Suddenly Stephen began to take one of his fits again. But Drusilla sensed that this one was different. In fact, she wondered if he could somehow see the same thing that she was sensing. "Oh gosh! Crucifixes and wooden stakes! They're talking about the supernatural! All wearing macs and raincoats. They're surrounding us. Have to get to the exits quick!" And with that Stephen seemed to faint into his beer.

"Django!" Drusilla cried in alarm. "The horses want to trample us. It's getting very warm. I can't see you for the smoke!"