Crazy Madcap Redemption - 7
In this chapter, Fred returns and gets to discuss things with Dru. Also, Gunn steps in to help out!
Previous Parts in Memories
Chapter Seven: Girl Talk
Fred sat down at the Starbucks across from Drusilla, who Spike had already set down with her own cup and teapot (which Fred strongly suspected did not, in fact, contain any tea.)
“Fred, you have my cell number. I won’t be too far. You ladies have a good time.” Spike backed away, hands out toward them as though afraid he’d have to jump forward any second.
Drusilla gave him an indulgent smirk and leaned her cheek toward him. He seemed confused for a moment, then said, “Oh, right,” and leaned forward to give her a peck. “Have your girl-chat,” he said. “And let me know if you need anything.”
Fred shook her head as he gave her an anxious look before backing his way to the exit of the coffee shop, bumping in to three people on his way.
“I don’t think he likes leaving you alone,” Fred laughed.
“He thinks I’m going to eat all the lovely people,” Drusilla said. She poured liquid the color of berry-juice into her cup. “My Spike wouldn’t let me leave our home until I’d eaten my fill, just to be sure.” Drusilla hummed in a pleased way that was disturbing, as though remembering her meal. “He doesn’t trust anything these days, not even shadows.”
Fred said, “Oh-kay.” She twisted her coffee cup between her hands. “I admit, I’m not really into this ‘girl time’ stuff. All my best friends have always been guys, like since I was five. I suppose it didn’t help in high school that I was in chess club and physics club. Um…” She took a sip of coffee, unnerved by the attentive stare she was getting from Drusilla. Her eyes looked shallow, like there was nothing behind them. “Do you… do this a lot?”
Drusilla pursed her lips and shook her head. Then she frowned and nodded. “We have tea every day, in our nicest dresses, if the girls behave, but so many are naughty and need punished for talking out of turn,” she amended, and took a dainty sip of whatever it was.
“Riiight,” Fred said, and bit her lip.
***
“Would you stop pacing?”
“’M all right.” Spike chewed away at the side of one nail. “’S just - never left Dru alone with someone like this. Not since I bleedin’ cared, you know, if the nummy treats survived.”
Gunn leaned back and gestured with his binoculars. “Yeah, well, hence the stake-out. Which you are blowing with your neon white ass passing the window every twenty seconds. Sit down!”
Spike’s ass touched a chair for all of a second before he was on his feet again, running his hand through his hair. “I’m trying to trust her. That’s the scary thing. I wonder if… what if Buffy and her friends had trusted me? Back when I first wanted them to. I think it over and I wonder if it still would have worked, you know? Maybe, yeah, it’s the dog’s bollocks and I’m Mr. Hero a year ahead of schedule, adored by Buffy, no soul makin’ me barmy, and all is fantastic in the world. Willy’s bar isn’t destroyed. But maybe I don’t try as hard, see, maybe I needed all that pushing. Having no reason to prove myself, I just slack off, and maybe I end up still evil, even to bleedin’ today. Maybe the First Evil wins, hell on earth is established, and maybe I wouldn’t even care…”
“Man if you don’t shut up, I’m going to duct tape you and Angel together and make you watch the surveillance tape. You want that?”
Spike finally sat down. He fidgeted with a small hole in his jeans and watched over Gunn’s smooth head. Across the street and one floor below, Fred and Drusilla sat in the picture window of the coffee house, looking so very normal from this distance, two girlfriends, one perhaps a bit flamboyantly feminine, but just two women sharing the time.
“I just want to know I’m doing the right thing,” Spike said.
“Hundred years and change,” Gunn shook his head, “and you still haven’t figured out there’s no knowing that? Now sit down, shut up, and let me do this.” He waved the binoculars again. Spike nodded, and set to grimly watching, wishing he had the hookup to the listening device in the teapot. But maybe it was best that Gunn was the one listening in.
***
“I suppose they think that we’ll be able to connect in some girl-way they don’t understand. But really, I’m not much of a girl. I mean, pfft! Hair? Makeup? Harmony starts talking about it and my eyes glaze over.”
“It’s a girl’s privilege to be pretty,” Drusilla said, with the air of reciting.
“Er… okay, new topic. Do you know why Spike wanted me to meet with you?”
“To convince me to go to Daddy. But I told him: I don’t want anything to do with the Angel-beast. He isn’t my daddy anymore. He’s gone mad!”
“Angel’s all right,” Fred said, leaning forward earnestly. “He means well, anyway. Sometimes you can’t tell just what’s going through that head of his, but I know him and trust him. If he says he’s not going to hurt you, he means it.”
Drusilla narrowed her eyes and set down her teacup with a moue of distaste.
“What?”
Drusilla shook her head. “Mustn’t talk about such things at tea. Isn’t civil.”
“No, come on, tell me. Why does Angel bother you so much? It can’t be the soul; Spike has a soul and you don’t mind being with him.” Drusilla’s pout deepened, her chin dimpling as she glanced around the room and fidgeted in distress. “It’s that one time, isn’t it? He set you on fire. I know. But you don’t have to fear that now. I promise. He won’t hurt you.”
“No!” Drusilla said, and stamped her foot under the table.
Fred straightened in her seat in surprise. Spike had warned her Drusilla could be child-like, but this was surreal.
“Daddy said I would be his forever.” Drusilla’s arms snaked around her torso, crossing to hold her shoulders. “He would hold me down and give me delicious pain and fill the empty places. Cold, empty eyes and hearts under the ground. Poor sisters. Never going to rise again, no matter how you call them. Call them to tea. They never come.”
Fred gaped. What was she supposed to do? “It… it’s okay.”
Drusilla seemed to snap into herself again. She looked coldly at Fred. “Daddy doesn’t want his princess anymore. He made me need him and then he took himself away. All I have is my white knight, and he won’t hurt me. Not even a little.”
Fred tilted her head, thinking critically, clinically about this - it was the only way she could. Angel’s past was, well, not the sort of thing she thought about, any more than she dwelled on crazy cave-living in Pylea. She said, “That doesn’t have to be a problem for you if you don’t want it to be. What do you care what Angel does now or what Spike does? You don’t have to define yourself by a man.” Fred watched closely to see if any of this was penetrating. “Maybe it’s a good thing, not to, well, ‘belong’ to him like that anymore. You’re stronger than that. Spike trusts you, and I trust him.”
Drusilla cocked her head as if trying to understand, very gently trying. “I’m his princess. His dark plum to taste and delight.”
“Yeah, okay, but I mean you’re also a vampire in your own right. I mean, you made him, not the other way around. And there’s that super strength! You could pick me right up and snap me like a big ol’ twig! Oh, that… that probably wasn’t the best example to give.”
Drusilla smiled a little smugly and hummed her approval.
“And there’s that seeing the future thing. Heck, Angel can’t do that. No one can do that! Not even Lorne. Well, he can see some things - destinies. But you have a real gift. To heck with Angel! Right? He can just jog out into the sunlight if he wants to; you’ll still be strong and powerful and really, really graceful.”
***
Gunn whistled low. “Fred, honey, I don’t think the woman power speech is really how we want to go with this!”
“What? What’s happening?” Spike hovered over him.
“Ass. Down. They’re just talking. But I think our ‘girl talk’ strategy is working a little too well. I’m picturing the last act of ‘Nine to Five’ with Angel tied up, and I’m not sure where that leaves the rest of us.”
Spike stuck his hands in his pocket. “Dru was always a girls’ girl. Feminine through and through.”
“Right. Feminine. Serial killers are so girly.” Gunn rolled his eyes.
***
“You’re a sweet bluebird, sayin’ such things to a girl like me.” Dru preened, smoothing her hair back.
“Yeah - about that.” Fred fixed her with a stare. “You told me I should ask you why you see blue when you look at me. This future-telling stuff, I’m guessing I shouldn’t let it slide. What is it? What do I have to do or not do?”
“Beware the present unasked. Open the box and it hollows you. Makes you a box for not a very nice present at all. And all the boys cry.”
“Do you have to be real cryptic like that, I mean, really?”
Drusilla nodded, blinking like it was the plainest, most obvious thing in the world.
“Can’t you just say, I dunno, ‘Don’t be home on December fourth’ or something?”
“The fairies don’t like dates and numbers,” Drusilla explained, and frowned. “Which is vexing. If I could just number things, it would be simpler.”
“So I’m going to get a present, a package of some sort, and I should not open it?”
Drusilla leaned over the table, the back of her hand toward her mouth, she whispered, “It’s your coffin!”
Fred grimaced. “I guess that’s a present I won’t want.”
Drusilla shook her head sagaciously.
Gathering her courage, Fred reached across and took the vampire’s slender hand. “Come with me to the office. You can do so much good for us, with your visions. And Angel - well, I’ll make sure he keeps away from you. I promise.”
Drusilla smiled and leaned forward, conspiratorially, and with the same joy a child would use agreeing to play a game of tag, she said, “Yes. Let’s do that!”
***
In the rented hotel room across the street, Gunn fell back with a sigh of relief. “She’s gonna do it,” he said to Spike, who hovered expectantly.
“Yes!” Spike stalked up to the window and raised a fist. “Thatta girl, Fred!”
“Yeah, well, we still have to let Angel know and arrange this whole thing.” Gun started packing up the surveillance equipment. “Why don’t you get down there just in case your girlfriend gets snacky?”
“Right. Yeah.” Spike made a tiny little extra fist-pump and walked to the door, containing his excitement poorly.
Continued -->
Previous Parts in Memories
Chapter Seven: Girl Talk
Fred sat down at the Starbucks across from Drusilla, who Spike had already set down with her own cup and teapot (which Fred strongly suspected did not, in fact, contain any tea.)
“Fred, you have my cell number. I won’t be too far. You ladies have a good time.” Spike backed away, hands out toward them as though afraid he’d have to jump forward any second.
Drusilla gave him an indulgent smirk and leaned her cheek toward him. He seemed confused for a moment, then said, “Oh, right,” and leaned forward to give her a peck. “Have your girl-chat,” he said. “And let me know if you need anything.”
Fred shook her head as he gave her an anxious look before backing his way to the exit of the coffee shop, bumping in to three people on his way.
“I don’t think he likes leaving you alone,” Fred laughed.
“He thinks I’m going to eat all the lovely people,” Drusilla said. She poured liquid the color of berry-juice into her cup. “My Spike wouldn’t let me leave our home until I’d eaten my fill, just to be sure.” Drusilla hummed in a pleased way that was disturbing, as though remembering her meal. “He doesn’t trust anything these days, not even shadows.”
Fred said, “Oh-kay.” She twisted her coffee cup between her hands. “I admit, I’m not really into this ‘girl time’ stuff. All my best friends have always been guys, like since I was five. I suppose it didn’t help in high school that I was in chess club and physics club. Um…” She took a sip of coffee, unnerved by the attentive stare she was getting from Drusilla. Her eyes looked shallow, like there was nothing behind them. “Do you… do this a lot?”
Drusilla pursed her lips and shook her head. Then she frowned and nodded. “We have tea every day, in our nicest dresses, if the girls behave, but so many are naughty and need punished for talking out of turn,” she amended, and took a dainty sip of whatever it was.
“Riiight,” Fred said, and bit her lip.
***
“Would you stop pacing?”
“’M all right.” Spike chewed away at the side of one nail. “’S just - never left Dru alone with someone like this. Not since I bleedin’ cared, you know, if the nummy treats survived.”
Gunn leaned back and gestured with his binoculars. “Yeah, well, hence the stake-out. Which you are blowing with your neon white ass passing the window every twenty seconds. Sit down!”
Spike’s ass touched a chair for all of a second before he was on his feet again, running his hand through his hair. “I’m trying to trust her. That’s the scary thing. I wonder if… what if Buffy and her friends had trusted me? Back when I first wanted them to. I think it over and I wonder if it still would have worked, you know? Maybe, yeah, it’s the dog’s bollocks and I’m Mr. Hero a year ahead of schedule, adored by Buffy, no soul makin’ me barmy, and all is fantastic in the world. Willy’s bar isn’t destroyed. But maybe I don’t try as hard, see, maybe I needed all that pushing. Having no reason to prove myself, I just slack off, and maybe I end up still evil, even to bleedin’ today. Maybe the First Evil wins, hell on earth is established, and maybe I wouldn’t even care…”
“Man if you don’t shut up, I’m going to duct tape you and Angel together and make you watch the surveillance tape. You want that?”
Spike finally sat down. He fidgeted with a small hole in his jeans and watched over Gunn’s smooth head. Across the street and one floor below, Fred and Drusilla sat in the picture window of the coffee house, looking so very normal from this distance, two girlfriends, one perhaps a bit flamboyantly feminine, but just two women sharing the time.
“I just want to know I’m doing the right thing,” Spike said.
“Hundred years and change,” Gunn shook his head, “and you still haven’t figured out there’s no knowing that? Now sit down, shut up, and let me do this.” He waved the binoculars again. Spike nodded, and set to grimly watching, wishing he had the hookup to the listening device in the teapot. But maybe it was best that Gunn was the one listening in.
***
“I suppose they think that we’ll be able to connect in some girl-way they don’t understand. But really, I’m not much of a girl. I mean, pfft! Hair? Makeup? Harmony starts talking about it and my eyes glaze over.”
“It’s a girl’s privilege to be pretty,” Drusilla said, with the air of reciting.
“Er… okay, new topic. Do you know why Spike wanted me to meet with you?”
“To convince me to go to Daddy. But I told him: I don’t want anything to do with the Angel-beast. He isn’t my daddy anymore. He’s gone mad!”
“Angel’s all right,” Fred said, leaning forward earnestly. “He means well, anyway. Sometimes you can’t tell just what’s going through that head of his, but I know him and trust him. If he says he’s not going to hurt you, he means it.”
Drusilla narrowed her eyes and set down her teacup with a moue of distaste.
“What?”
Drusilla shook her head. “Mustn’t talk about such things at tea. Isn’t civil.”
“No, come on, tell me. Why does Angel bother you so much? It can’t be the soul; Spike has a soul and you don’t mind being with him.” Drusilla’s pout deepened, her chin dimpling as she glanced around the room and fidgeted in distress. “It’s that one time, isn’t it? He set you on fire. I know. But you don’t have to fear that now. I promise. He won’t hurt you.”
“No!” Drusilla said, and stamped her foot under the table.
Fred straightened in her seat in surprise. Spike had warned her Drusilla could be child-like, but this was surreal.
“Daddy said I would be his forever.” Drusilla’s arms snaked around her torso, crossing to hold her shoulders. “He would hold me down and give me delicious pain and fill the empty places. Cold, empty eyes and hearts under the ground. Poor sisters. Never going to rise again, no matter how you call them. Call them to tea. They never come.”
Fred gaped. What was she supposed to do? “It… it’s okay.”
Drusilla seemed to snap into herself again. She looked coldly at Fred. “Daddy doesn’t want his princess anymore. He made me need him and then he took himself away. All I have is my white knight, and he won’t hurt me. Not even a little.”
Fred tilted her head, thinking critically, clinically about this - it was the only way she could. Angel’s past was, well, not the sort of thing she thought about, any more than she dwelled on crazy cave-living in Pylea. She said, “That doesn’t have to be a problem for you if you don’t want it to be. What do you care what Angel does now or what Spike does? You don’t have to define yourself by a man.” Fred watched closely to see if any of this was penetrating. “Maybe it’s a good thing, not to, well, ‘belong’ to him like that anymore. You’re stronger than that. Spike trusts you, and I trust him.”
Drusilla cocked her head as if trying to understand, very gently trying. “I’m his princess. His dark plum to taste and delight.”
“Yeah, okay, but I mean you’re also a vampire in your own right. I mean, you made him, not the other way around. And there’s that super strength! You could pick me right up and snap me like a big ol’ twig! Oh, that… that probably wasn’t the best example to give.”
Drusilla smiled a little smugly and hummed her approval.
“And there’s that seeing the future thing. Heck, Angel can’t do that. No one can do that! Not even Lorne. Well, he can see some things - destinies. But you have a real gift. To heck with Angel! Right? He can just jog out into the sunlight if he wants to; you’ll still be strong and powerful and really, really graceful.”
***
Gunn whistled low. “Fred, honey, I don’t think the woman power speech is really how we want to go with this!”
“What? What’s happening?” Spike hovered over him.
“Ass. Down. They’re just talking. But I think our ‘girl talk’ strategy is working a little too well. I’m picturing the last act of ‘Nine to Five’ with Angel tied up, and I’m not sure where that leaves the rest of us.”
Spike stuck his hands in his pocket. “Dru was always a girls’ girl. Feminine through and through.”
“Right. Feminine. Serial killers are so girly.” Gunn rolled his eyes.
***
“You’re a sweet bluebird, sayin’ such things to a girl like me.” Dru preened, smoothing her hair back.
“Yeah - about that.” Fred fixed her with a stare. “You told me I should ask you why you see blue when you look at me. This future-telling stuff, I’m guessing I shouldn’t let it slide. What is it? What do I have to do or not do?”
“Beware the present unasked. Open the box and it hollows you. Makes you a box for not a very nice present at all. And all the boys cry.”
“Do you have to be real cryptic like that, I mean, really?”
Drusilla nodded, blinking like it was the plainest, most obvious thing in the world.
“Can’t you just say, I dunno, ‘Don’t be home on December fourth’ or something?”
“The fairies don’t like dates and numbers,” Drusilla explained, and frowned. “Which is vexing. If I could just number things, it would be simpler.”
“So I’m going to get a present, a package of some sort, and I should not open it?”
Drusilla leaned over the table, the back of her hand toward her mouth, she whispered, “It’s your coffin!”
Fred grimaced. “I guess that’s a present I won’t want.”
Drusilla shook her head sagaciously.
Gathering her courage, Fred reached across and took the vampire’s slender hand. “Come with me to the office. You can do so much good for us, with your visions. And Angel - well, I’ll make sure he keeps away from you. I promise.”
Drusilla smiled and leaned forward, conspiratorially, and with the same joy a child would use agreeing to play a game of tag, she said, “Yes. Let’s do that!”
***
In the rented hotel room across the street, Gunn fell back with a sigh of relief. “She’s gonna do it,” he said to Spike, who hovered expectantly.
“Yes!” Spike stalked up to the window and raised a fist. “Thatta girl, Fred!”
“Yeah, well, we still have to let Angel know and arrange this whole thing.” Gun started packing up the surveillance equipment. “Why don’t you get down there just in case your girlfriend gets snacky?”
“Right. Yeah.” Spike made a tiny little extra fist-pump and walked to the door, containing his excitement poorly.
Continued -->