A/N: Normally I'd whinge and mop about my own life here. Skip that for now. Instead, just know that weirdness abounds in my kingdom and that this Star story has taken on a different feel than the last two. This one feels a bit more anticipatory to me, but it's not as dreamlike as the last. Maybe it's having plot relevance that changed the feel.

Disclaimer: Another foray into my twisted Star 'verse and into the twisted head of Drusilla before I start on the series to be set in this world. That will have to wait until Progeny's completion. I would advise reading STAR SONG and then STAR SCREAMS before this, but seeing as either of them could be taken as stand alone pieces (this one included) do whatever you want. We both know you will anyway.

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Star Silence

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Miss Edith has been keeping secrets. We are very cross with her, no bikkies after dinner. She murmurs in my ear, murmur murmur murmur. She blames the Fire Tree for her silence, she says that she has been trying to hide the nasty little girls from Drusilla and her Pixie.

No, not her Pixie, not anymore. I'm not a Pixie, Dru. Just like our William all over again. It's Spike now. Asha is lucky we are such a tolerant mummy, and we only spank her when she asks us nicely. Miss Edith tells us we should not let her be this wilful, but I am not speaking with her. It's sinful to not talk to mummy.

Asha has had such wicked ideas for sins. She's Drusilla's delightful girl. She likes to play more than Daddy, dancing little puppets on the string. The nasty little girls don't dance at all when we put them on the strings. Asha says it's because we snapped their spine, but they should dance on the strings. It isn't right for a puppet just to scream.

The first one was an accident. Miss Edith told me that the nasty little girl was far, far away so Pixie and I went to play with her peeper. Pixie loved to play with peepers, it made her tingly. The knife would cut and cut and the blood would run out. That's when Miss Edith stopped talking. I didn't think about it much but it wasn't long before the nasty girl burst in to interrupt us.

Drusilla giggled while Pixie danced. Pixie loved to dance, swishing and swaying, but her partner was clumsy. Clumsy girls have to stay at home. The shiny knife opened up a vein, then another. Pixie made it last, making the nasty girl dribble to pieces. The nasty girl tried to poke a hole in Drusilla's Pixie, but Pixie was faster.

Asha drank from the nasty little girl and then asked Miss Edith to share the tasty treat. Warm like honey, we licked it off her chin. She thought it might be clever to run and hide before more peepers and their nasty little girls came in and caused trouble. The one she killed was only a little fishy, swimming and splashing, but if you killed the little fishes then the bigger ones came looking for snacks to gobble.

Miss Edith stopped talking to me, but Asha still caused all kinds of delicious mayhem. She had a lovely time inviting nasty little girls and their peepers to tea. We were very cross with Miss Edith indeed. She didn't warn us when any of the nasty little girls came to visit. My Asha got scratched one time because Miss Edith was being so very quiet.

Her Asha was making the pretty art on the body when Patches told us. New prey. Easy prey. Warehouse at the docks a nightclub. Asha laughed and laughed. Sent Patches to play with the others in the usual way, no new prey for him. It will be special, for Asha and Drusilla.

"Oh my," Asha says, shocked. Silly Asha, doesn't sound shocked at all. "Where ever did all the free food that was supposed to be in this warehouse filled with crosses get off to?"

A nasty little girl steps out from the shadows and our Asha saunters forward, all braggadocio like our Spike used to be. "You killed Kissa," she accuses angrily. We hum and sway, the stars are singing again.

"I did," Asha sneers. "I violated her corpse a little bit, too."

The nasty little girl lunges for Asha, tangled angry white chasing swirling green and black. Asha sways gently back and dances away, giggling. I smile and watch my girl play.

"She was loving it, too" Asha jeers, "wanted to be dead. Glad I could bring it to her."

"She was not!" the nasty little girl sobs, swinging wildly, dizzily.

"She was a lot smarter than you, too," Asha continues coldly. "Honestly, this dump a nightclub? You really should've made sure you had some back up because let's face it, you're just not good enough to kill me."

Drusilla watched the girls dance back and forth. Tall, willowy Asha swaying to the beat of the stars and the tiny, bronzed girl fighting with furious grief. High and low, back and forth. This one loved the last one, Drusilla can smell it all over her. Sadness, emptiness, the faint smell of the last one's clothes. This one was reckless and not very good at all.

"Fight me!" she shrieked hoarsely. I watch Drusilla clap joyously as the shine of metal becomes visible in Asha's hand.

The dance is more deadly now, cold metal teeth biting chips out of wooden fangs. Viper strike, arc of blood, delicious scream, the nasty little girl grips her thigh. Silly girl. Viper strike, splash of blood, tasty scream, line along her ribs. Desperate thrust and viper strike, blood explosion. Girl lying on the floor, life ebbing out of her throat.

Specks of dust dart through the moonbeams. Drusilla watches them carefully, wistfully. Swirling in non-existent breezes, settling on the rafters. Mildew makes the bricks wet, weeping silent tears. Spider webs in the windows, soundless harp strings. Blood, cloying the musty air with its sweetness, its metal. Shiny metal gleaming silver and red, cutting, slicing, cleaving.

"Maybe it's just me," Asha says cheerfully, her cold biting knife glistening with blood. "But these Slayers are getting easier and easier to kill." We grin at her, moaning as her little pink tongue lathes the blood off her lips. She is such a wicked girl. Mummy is so happy.

Rip. Rip. Peeling off the wrapper now, before Christmas. Must have more canvas to make her art, she must. Still, a wicked, sinful girl. Must be spanked. Make her ask nicely later. Now I watch as she does her art, beautiful red lines, swirls and whirls.

We tilt our head, rock back and forth. Somebody is watching. Watching from the windows, filthy angels watching and judging. No smell of fear in that scent. Almost familiar. Disgust. Shame. Guilt. Memories, now. Just shows she's my girl. Not right. A heartbeat. The smell of warm.

Whimpers now, no screams left. Throat screamed raw, bloody, flecks of red foam on pink lips. Cotton warm skin parted by silver satin steel. Blood, life, flows in the wake. Rivers, lakes, puddles, waterfalls, rain. Trails upwards, always upwards so they have delicious time to watch. Fear. Pain. Resignation. Near death now. Relief.

"What is it, Dru?" Asha asks. We frown. Our Asha should be paying more attention.

Spider webs of red crisscrossing tanned flesh. Sun-kissed. Sun-kissed child of the moon. Wicked girl, playing in the sun. The moon will weep. Silver tear traces over eyelids, blinding not scarring. Asha grows tired of this toy, broken, useless, lifeless. Symbols, signs, words, glyphs carved into flesh. A pretty show for the peepers.

"A wicked boy this way comes," she sings, humming and swaying. "It reeks of Daddy but it isn't Daddy at all. It's not even the nasty Angel-beast."

"Well, well, well," Asha gloats. "Angel, is that you out there? I did wonder ever so which of you would find out first. Are you young Megan's Watcher or are you just here for old times sake?"

We hear him running away. I frown carefully but Asha jumps and scrambles to the open window. We hear a sizzle and Asha cursing as the crosses burn her. Not pure anymore. Daddy was always careful to have a safe place to run.

We croon comfort to our Asha. Catch him later. I can smell the sun rising over the horizon. Better far to head to our home, dash over the dusty cobbles and into the doll's house. Maybe our Patches will be waiting for us. He might even have an extra snack for his Mummy and Grandmummy.

Sunlight swirls around the tops of buildings by the time we arrive home, shadowy teeth biting the sky. Patches is siting in the drawing room draining a tasty morsel, his single golden eye luminous. He grumbles lowly.

"Zack wanted to see you both."

Asha tut tuts her boy. "Zack can wait."

I giggle as my Asha tugs me into the sleeping room, her bright eyes and full lips inviting.

Miss Edith has not been talking. My Asha and I won't let her stop us. If she won't play nice then she won't get to watch, but my Asha is right. Miss Edith is being wicked so we must punish her by having lots of tea parties and not letting her come. Miss Edith loves her tea parties.

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A/N: Well, I think that feels different. I tend to write these in segments and construct whatever coherence that's there later on. It seemed more anticipatory than the other two, but I can't tell anymore. I think I put everything in and in the order I wanted. My head gets fuzzy when I'm writing crazy, I guess.