Drusilla stood on the balcony and swayed back and forth watching the newly risen moon's light dance across her skin. She had ripped the sleeves from her gown and tossed them away. Little snippets of a waltz played through her mind, but she couldn't focus on the song.

Angelus stepped out behind her, and she stilled. He ran one finger down her arm from shoulder to wrist. Then he gripped her waist and pulled her toward him.

"Call your boy, Dru. Make him come home." He whispered against her ear as he pressed his body against hers from behind. His finger traced its way back up her arm, leaving a trail of shivering flesh behind it. He settled his hand on her shoulder.

"He won't come, Daddy. My boy has gone." A single tear trailed down her face. "You ripped his head off for taking me to the shops."

He trailed his fingers along her body until they rested at her collarbone. "I wasn't talking about that worthless minion. I want our William home."

"He won't come, either. He celebrates and dances without me now." Her lips turned down in a pretty pout.

"He was made by you. Call him." His large hand slid to her throat and he pressed brutally, digging into her delicate flesh with his nails.

"I can't, Daddy." She choked the words out. He eased the pressure from his fingers.

"Princess, you need to bring that childe of yours to heel. He needs to come home."

"Not his home, just a place to hang his hat." Drusilla wrenched away from his grasp and turned to face Angelus. "Daddy left us all to die, and Mommy went back to do her service. We were left to wander in the forest without crumbs."

Angelus stepped toward his childe and she danced back from him. He studied her for a moment. Her hair was disheveled and her clothing was dirty and shredded in places. She needed someone. Spike had brushed her hair every morning while listening to her prattle on about her dolls. He had reminded her to feed, and made sure she was clean. He had been useful even in the damn chair.

"My childe is his own again, and off to play with the flowers and dance on the goblet's rim." Drusilla spun in a large circle, her laughter reverberating through the quiet night.

"Cac capaill." Getting a word of sense out of her was near impossible. Now, he needed to find her a new caretaker. None of the minions would do. They were too weak willed, and she tended to kill them if they displeased her dolls.

She had picked that annoying toy of hers well. One hundred and twenty years and he'd still been standing by her, working to save her. The little shit had been her sole caretaker for a century.

Drusilla came to a stop and quivered. Her eyes glowed golden and she leapt over the rail in a fluid movement. She landed gracefully and turned to him.

"I'm off to have some fun, Daddy." She waved and took off in a blur. He punched the wall to vent his frustration and launched himself after her.

"Princess, wait for me." He called as he caught a flash of her white petticoat ahead of him. Her giggle drifted back to him.

Bursting through some bushes he found her dancing with five enthralled humans around a swimming pool. She hummed and swirled before grabbing the youngest man in front of her and sliding into a proper hold. They waltzed in quick circles, her wild hair spinning behind them. The humans paired up as well and circled less gracefully.

He grabbed the wine from amidst their dinner table and took a long pull from the bottle. It was surprisingly good. He reclined on a chaise and watched his princess at her ball.

Drusilla laughed, and closed her eyes. For one moment it was all brilliantly clear. It was a night to celebrate, a night for dancing and drinking and games. She took a deep breath and sucked in the scent of all the flowers surrounding them in this lovely garden.

She pulled back and caressed the face before her. He was perfect. His blue eyes shone at her in the moonlight. He was young and vibrant. He was alive in his spirit, not just his body, vital.

She broke off the dance, and turned to the older couple. She hummed and closed her eyes as she created the pictures in their minds. They toddled off to dig his grave with a happy song from a moving picture her William had taken her to see. It had been so lovely with a wicked witch trying to kill a dark haired beauty, but the witch had lost and the stupid little men had been happy.

"It's my new boy's birthday, Daddy. I want to give him a present." Drusilla turned to Angelus.

He watched her stroke the pretty boy's face with her ragged nails, and relaxed. Her instincts were always good. This boy might be just what was needed.

"A new childe for our family," he mused. He unfolded from his chair and walked slowly toward the pair. "He is quite lovely. You have a type, my darling girl. Is this one a poet?"

"No, he makes the little drawings move, so they can sing and dance for us. Please, Daddy may I give him a present?"

Angelus looked at the pair and nodded. "You may. Eat the other boy first though. You want him to be strong." His hand cupped the boy's cheek. A new fledge would keep him busy and Drusilla in a better fashion. He walked around the smaller man slowly, anticipation growing.

"Would you like to eat his sister, Daddy?" Drusilla called to him.

"Only if you release the thrall, Dru. I want to taste her fear."

Drusilla giggled and her new toy moved suddenly. He walked to the sliding glass door and turned as Drusilla joined him on the threshold with the other two guests.

Angelus walked up to them. "Please come in, let's get some more to drink." The new boy had a nice voice. Angelus smiled and stepped over the threshold.