*NEW* Original Sin (Angel(us)/Drusilla) NC-17 2/2
Title: Original Sin
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.
BETA: Myself, lexa4227, sevendeadlyfun
Rating - NC-17
Pairing - Angel(us)/Drusilla, Implied-Angelus/Darla)
Timeline - BTVS S3 AMENDS, missing scene.
Summary - AR. Takes place during AMENDS. Angel is haunted by Drusilla. A fresh, new, darkly erotic, and compelling look at how Angelus tormented Drusilla. He saw a butterfly, a gem of innocence and virginity, with the gift of Sight, and made his ambition to mold her. He took away everything she loved, her family, her innocence, her sanity, her life, and she was reborn . . .
Feedback - It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.
Author's Note - This fic wouldn't been possible if it wasn't for the encouragement and support of two wonderful women and great friends, kidcyclone and woman_of_, and my wonderful betas kateyes085, lexa4227 and sevendeadlyfun.
WARNINGS: Mental Torture, Torment, Anguish, Minor Character Deaths, Violence, Dark Fic dealing with mental/emotional disintegration.
Word Count: 5,905
Previous Part Here
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Part 2
Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998
Angel had moved back to the bedroom and lay on top of the covers during the tale. Drusilla’s apparition lay on her side next to him, her head propped up on her hand. She ran her fingertips over his chest and stomach and watched him shiver. Angel couldn’t feel the touch of fingers, just coolness on his skin. Everything about his Drusilla resembled how delicate she once was. She had slim hands with long, graceful fingers, tipped with French manicured talon-like nails.
He groaned as he imagined what they had felt like grazing and scoring his flesh. The thought brought to mind how she looked during a state of arousal. Darla was a beauty to behold in her day. Buffy was fresh-faced innocence. Drusilla, his ripe, wicked, little girl, was gorgeous. All that full, rich, dark hair tumbled around her shoulders on the pillow, her big blue eyes peeking at him through lowered lids, her red lips parted on a moan. Her shapeless dresses hid the gentle curves of her body, and the swell of her plump breasts.
Angel thought about how his childer looked. He discounted Penn on the grounds of early turning errors, Penn was into power and control, not so much for being in the family as using it for his own means, and Lawson was discounted because he wasn’t around long enough for Angel to have any influence on him.
But, Spike and Drusilla were entirely different. His girl had the visions, classic features, and ethereal beauty with big, dark blue eyes, and pure, virgin innocence, headed toward being a nun, destined for sainthood before Angelus saw her. William was a beautiful human, troublesome vampire that he was. He had honey blonde hair, incredibly bright blue eyes, cheekbones that were as a sharp as a razor blade and went on forever, with a beautiful, well-muscled body hidden under his drab clothes. Yes, he chose his childer carefully. Seeing them together was always a striking image: his dark princess and light baby boy. They were both quick and deadly killers.
Angel felt his cock harden at the thoughts running through his head and cursed. He was supposed to be damned and punished for his sins, not get excited over them.
“You’re remembering what it’s like to be with me again. Even after you finished that part of the story, the thoughts of killing my sister still fresh in your mind. The way you tormented me, making me think I caused it, made you hard. Bloodshed always turned you on,” ‘Drusilla’ purred as her fingers trailed down over his crotch.
Between the apparition’s words and the cool air seeping through his pants from her caress, Angel could barely suppress the groan that escaped.
“You snuck into my room and left that calling card of blood and rose petals. Made me think it was a sign from God that I had indeed killed her.” The apparition leaned closer to Angel’s ear and whispered, “You also left other things didn’t you? You left a sketch of Anna in her coffin with her tombstone underneath it. Such a wicked Daddy you were.”
“Dru, please!” Angel choked on a groan and swallowed hard.
She was driving him mad. If she was real . . . if she was tangible, he’d flip her over and bury himself inside her, to hell with the curse. However, he didn’t think that fucking Drusilla would cause perfect happiness, but it’d take care of the ache in his loins.
“Shh, Daddy. It’s just the beginning of the tale. Tell me more, show yourself for what you really are,” ‘Drusilla’ purred.
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London, June, 1860
Ah, the Fitzwilliam Coming Out Ball. He hated these things, but Darla wanted to go out tonight, so here he was. The second they got inside the house, Darla was off his arm and lost in the crowd. His Sire was always looking for a blue blood to feast on. She always wanted the notoriety without scandal.
So, while his Sire was off hunting for a worthy kill, Angelus took to the sidelines and surveyed the gathering. Pompous socialites, dressed to impress their peers. He bet not a single one of them liked anyone else in this room. They were just here to observe their competition and be seen. It was a tiresome game; he’d take being a demon over it any day. It was simple: you hunt; you kill; occasionally adding to the ranks, and you move on.
Angelus watched the crowd with a roving eye when he saw Drusilla’s family enter the room regally. He thought he’d be stuck here, bored, while Darla entertained her . . . appetite. As he watched his latest project enter the room, he had a feeling this night would prove to be interesting after all.
Angelus slowly circled the throng while keeping a careful eye on Drusilla. She was nearly glued to her Father’s arm. He idly wondered if the man had any circulation left in the appendage. The small band started to play a song just as he approached them. Using the opportunity to make his presence known, he bumped into one of the girls, seemingly by accident and knocked her fan out of her hand.
“Pardon me, miss,” Angelus apologized as he bent down to retrieve the fan.
The girl smiled as she accepted the accessory from the stranger. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Liam,” Angelus said giving a short bow.
“Beatrice,” the young girl replied.
Angelus made a show of kissing the back of her hand in greeting before saying, “Well, Beatrice, might I interest you in a dance?”
“You certainly may,” the girl replied before looking to her father for approval. When he gave it with a nod, Angelus escorted her to the dance floor.
Drusilla watched curiously, as the stranger danced with her sister. She could have sworn she had seen him before. He was impeccably dressed and she couldn’t quite place him, but he looked so familiar. As the man twirled Beatrice around the floor, whispering in her ear and seeing her sister smile at something he said, images of the man and her sister flashed through her mind. Not wanting to cause a scene, Drusilla shook her head a bit, trying to clear it.
After the dance was over, Angelus returned Beatrice to her family and smiled at Drusilla. Taking her small hand in his, he bowed and kissed the back of it. “Miss Drusilla, your sister was just telling me about you. I feel as though I know you already.”
Drusilla’s breath hitched in her throat. He knew about her? “One should not be so familiar upon a first meeting, sir,” she said.
“Yes, you’ll have to excuse my boldness. It’s a shortcoming that I’m working on,” Angelus replied.
Drusilla snatched her hand back and bowed her head to try to hide the red blush creeping into her cheeks. She was starting to feel uncomfortable, even more so than usual when at these functions. If she ever observed the opposite sex, she would say he was quite handsome. But, she was saving herself for the church and therefore took little interest in them outside of common courtesy.
Angelus watched her behavior like a hawk. Her modesty was intriguing to say the least. It seemed that in mixed company she was the epitome of proper decorum. Anyone who saw her would never know that she was plagued by visions and nightmares. But, after months of tormenting her from afar, he knew what the family kept hidden behind closed doors.
At that moment, Angelus felt Darla’s presence near and turned to see her impatiently waiting for him. He gave a silent acknowledgement and turned to his new acquaintances. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be going.” He nodded to the girls in turn and said, “Thank you for the dance. It was nice to meet you, Miss Drusilla. Sir, if you would allow it, I would love to call on your daughter soon.”
After the man agreed and they set a tentative date, Angelus took his leave and joined Darla on the way out of the gala. When they got to the street, Darla looked at Angelus strangely. “Whatever were you doing in there, dear boy?”
“What do you mean?”
“Normally at these functions, you would have killed four girls by the time I’m ready to leave. Yet, tonight I find you socializing with a gentleman and his 2 young daughters. Is that where you’ve been lately, courting those girls?” Darla asked as she entered a waiting carriage.
“You have your pastimes, luv, and I have mine,” Angelus answered as he followed her.
As the carriage lumbered down the street Darla asked, “So, why haven’t you killed them yet?” When he glanced at her, Darla went on, “I may be 251, Angelus; but, I’m still a vampire. I recognized the girl, the one with the visions. She was supposed to be a present.”
“One I’m enjoying quite thoroughly,” Angelus conceded.
“Well, like any toy, they lose their newness and one has to move on,” Darla stated with a hint of jealousy.
“I have plans for her; they’ve already been set in motion. All you have to do is sit back and watch my progress.” Angelus smiled and then leaned closer and proceeded to distract her with kisses.
It took three weeks to placate Darla’s jealous streak over the amount of time he spent with his current obsession. He spent the time hunting with her, bedding her, staying underfoot until she grew tired of constantly tripping over him. In all that time, he thought about his next plan to terrorize the lovely Drusilla.
Once Darla had grown weary of his company, Angelus set about his plan to court Drusilla’s sister. He would show up at her door and the family would entertain him over a dinner he barely touched, but only for appearance sake, and drinks afterward. Every time he stepped foot in the house he heard Drusilla’s heart beating faster than a rabbit. She was deathly afraid of him and rightly so, but her family took no notice of her response to the likeable man who was courting Beatrice.
Angelus, or rather, Liam, visited the family every few days, playing up the act that he was really interested in Beatrice’s company. When he knew the family wasn’t looking his way, he stole glances at Drusilla. Every time she felt his eyes on her, he could hear her blood rush through her veins.
He courted Beatrice for a few months, before the act started to become tiresome. The more he was around Drusilla, he had to have her . . . to possess her completely . . . obliterate her and make her his. Then, one night he caught her alone in the family’s small garden.
“Isn’t late for you to be outside in the dark?” Angelus asked from the doorway. “There are all sorts of deadly predators lurking about.”
“It’s peaceful. No one bothers me out here. The stars speak to me sometimes,” Drusilla replied.
Angelus stepped up behind her a breath away from touching her. “Is that so, and what do they tell you?”
“You do not appear as you seem. You frighten me. They tell me to stay clear of you, sir,” Drusilla said.
Angelus placed his big hand on her pale shoulders and buried his nose in her hair, scenting her, whispering, “You know I can’t do that.” She smelled of jasmine and lavender, of pure innocence and cream virginity. He imagined that he could lick her all over and she’d taste of sweet vanilla.
Angelus turned Drusilla to face him and backed her up against the ivy-covered wall. He caressed his fingers from her shoulder, over her chest and up to lightly curl around her slim neck. Angelus felt her pulse beat faster under his fingertips. He could smell her fear, but it was mixed with something else, a scent he knew intimately.
Leaning closer, Angelus whispered, “You may fear me, sweet Drusilla, but you’re also excited by me.”
He pulled back a little to watch her eyes widen in realization of what his words meant. Angelus wasn’t surprised when she drew back and gave him a stinging slap. He had to give her credit for the small show of violence. When she wrenched away from him, Angelus smirked as he watched her gather her skirts and scurry back to the house.
“There’s still time, but I won’t wait forever,” Angelus said to himself as he wiped a bit of blood from his cheek where her nails scratched him.
Angelus strolled leisurely into the house. When he met Beatrice in the hall near the door, he kissed her formally on the cheek and made his goodbyes. She was a little disappointed to see him leave so soon.
“Are you sure you have to go?” she asked with a hint of pleading.
“Yes, I must. I shall see you soon,” Angelus reassured her.
As he made his apologies, he watched Drusilla with a heated look in his eyes. A red blush stained her cheeks. She turned away and went to her room. With his fascination out of the room, he smiled pleasantly at Beatrice and took his leave.
Angelus stayed in the shadows, leisurely smoking a cigarette as he waited for the lights inside the house to blink out, signaling that everyone was asleep. Then, he climbed the trellis to Beatrice’s room and silently entered through the window.
Beatrice was sound asleep, just as Anna was before her. Angelus smirked at the sight of virtuousness; assured that she was safe and sound. He could hear Drusilla’s whimpers through the far wall. His darling girl was in the midst of another nightmare, probably envisioning the one that was about to take place in this very room.
Angelus took his coat and shirt off, but left his pants on and then climbed into bed beside Beatrice. When she felt the dip in the bed, her eyes sprang open and stared at a bare-chested Liam. When she started to voice her shock, he covered her mouth with his hand.
“Shh, you will not want to wake the whole house and bring everyone in here. What would they think of you with a man in your bed?” Angelus asked in mock concern.
Beatrice stared at him with wide eyes and shook her head. No, she didn’t want to be part of a scandal. She had always been a good girl. She was bright and outgoing, which was the exact opposite of Drusilla. Her sister always acted strangely and wanted to be left to her own company. She’d never get a man that way. Which was an odd thing to think of at a time like this when Beatrice herself was confronted with a man in her bed.
“Good girl,” Angelus said before sliding his free hand under the covers and proceeded to tease her body.
Beatrice whimpered at the sensations Liam made her feel. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. There were tingling nerves she didn’t know existed. Tears welled up in her eyes more from fear of the unknown than of Liam. The man she knew was kind and gentle. At the moment, he was also quite amorous.
Years of learning how to please Darla worked at times like this. Angelus watched the girl’s face for reaction when he slid his hand down her quivering stomach to the coarse curls between her thighs. He grinned, showing blunt human teeth as she bowed under him when his fingers found the little nub that was hidden.
Beatrice tried to speak past the palm covering her mouth. She tried to pull away; everything was too much for her senses. She was a virgin. She shouldn’t be doing this! Not before she was married! It simply wasn’t done . . . was it?
Beatrice pulled at Angelus’ hand, trying to stop him from his insistent probing of her sensitive, and embarrassing, body. She didn’t wish to make any noise. If anyone were to discover her in such a compromising situation, she would be ruined. As she struggled, one thought went through her mind, ‘this man is unaccountably strong.’
Angelus ignored her struggles and proceeded to enjoy the pleasures of her body. He heard the mumbled protests. He ignored those, too. As much as she objected to what he was doing to her, her body responded to him. It took longer than he thought, but finally, her body shuddered under him in orgasm. He withdrew his hand. The second her body relaxed, his face shifted, fangs gleaming silver in the moonlight, and he dove for her throat.
The taste of her blood was like any other innocent virgin, but underneath he could taste the bitterness of her sibling rivalry with Drusilla, the sorrow from the loss of Anna, the excitement that he caused by climbing into bed with her. When he had drunk his fill, he pulled away and looked around the room, deciding the best place to leave a calling card.
The next day around midmorning when Beatrice still hadn’t joined the family for the day’s activities, Drusilla went in to check on her. When she pushed the door open, it was like déjà vu. It was the same horrific scene from her dream. Beatrice’s body was posed as demurely as her nature. The bed had been stripped of the top sheet and blankets, displaying the virgin’s blood on the mattress. On the wall above the bed, underneath the mounted cross, written in blood with flecks of a mysterious white substance was the message: ‘A gift for God’.
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Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998
He remembered killing Beatrice and displaying her like a sacrificial lamb. He squeezed his eyes shut against the gruesome image in his mind. ‘A gift for God’, really it was a gift for Drusilla. In his own way, Angelus showed that he wanted her by killing Beatrice to clear the path for his pursuit of the clairvoyant beauty. Angel shook his head to clear it as he moved to the other side of the bed, shrinking away from the apparition of Drusilla.
“God, what he did to her. It was vulgar and morbid and Dru found that scene.” Angel curled into himself, holding on to the side of the bed and trembling as the images washed over him.
The apparition crawled across the bed on its hands and knees, settling behind him. She nuzzled against his cheek, the cool air causing him to shiver and jerk away.
‘Drusilla’ pressed on, whispering in his ear, “Yes. You made such a bloody tableau to be discovered in the harsh light of day.” She licked his cheek, but all he felt was cold, damp air.
“Why didn’t you run from him - me then?” Angel asked on a shuddering breath.
“You were a clever Daddy, never let anyone know that there was a sacrilegious murderer in our midst. You’re the monster all parents warn their sweet, little children about. You slaughtered two of my sisters in their own beds without anyone knowing until it was too late,” ‘Drusilla’ said. She looked down his body and smiled seductively before whispering, “You’re still hard. Such a deliciously sinful Daddy turned on by the thoughts of violence and blood. You could drive an innocent girl mad. Oh, wait. You did!”
As Angel tried to get away from her, he fell off the side of the bed and hurriedly crawled to the adjacent wall. He shook his head in denial and repeatedly said, “No, n-n-no. I’m not like that any more. I have a soul damn it!”
“Face up to what you are, my angel.” ‘Drusilla’ was perched on the side of the bed with her legs crossed. “You’re a demon . . . a killer . . . once you accept that, you’ll be at peace.” Angel blinked and ‘Drusilla’ was sitting before him again. “Embrace what you are.”
“No, I can’t! If I do, it will kill everyone,” Angel said, shaking his head in denial.
“What does it matter? You’re immortal. They’ll all die one day anyway. Why should they suffer any more than they have to?” ‘Drusilla’ asked.
Angel remembered those words clearly. He said those very words when he taught a newly-turned Drusilla how to hunt and kill.
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London, Early October, 1860
It had been three days since they buried Beatrice. Friends of the family noted the short amount of time between Anna’s passing and Beatrice’s death. No one spoke the word ‘murder’. It was too ghastly to even think that someone in Kensal Green could be so evil as to murder two sweet girls and sisters at that. Everyone commented on the toll it must have taken on the surviving family members, noting Drusilla’s instability of late.
With the thought that there could be a monster in their neighborhood, everyone took extra precautions. A community that felt so safe months before were now locking their doors and windows. The family themselves took extra measures, making sure the holy water font was full, crosses on every wall in the house, garlic over the doorways, and anything else their superstitious minds could think of.
The death of her two sisters, and the subsequent ‘gifts’ that were left for her by the person responsible for them had caused Drusilla’s fragile mind to break down steadily. She was prone to nervous fits and talking to the moon, stars and angels that no one else could see. She would flee to the church at what her family considered to be odd times. In truth, she went every time a vision hit her. She would see the unknown monster closing in on her and replays of her sisters deaths.
Drusilla stepped out of the church, wrapped the handmade, red velvet cloak tighter around her body, drawing the hood up against the fall chill. She looked up and down the street and hurried home. She hadn’t meant to stay out past sundown, it wasn’t safe with a serial killer running loose and targeting her family. She had stayed to confer with the Priest about joining the church as a nun at the Shrine of the Sacred Heart Convent a few miles away.
She was so lost in thought that she startled when a man bumped into her. “Sorry miss. You should really be inside somewhere safe. Do you realize there’s a sunset curfew in effect?”
“Yes sir, I know. I’m going straight home now,” Drusilla said and went on her way.
When Drusilla reached the house, went inside, and quickly shut the door. Pulling the hood of her cloak off her head, she unfastened it and hung it up. Then, she went into the family room where she stopped in her tracks. Her parents were propped up in their usual chairs by the fire, but they weren’t talking like they normally did before retiring for the night.
Drusilla caught a glimpse of Claire, her youngest and only remaining sister, standing in the doorway. When she turned to speak to the 12-year-old, the girl moved aside to reveal Angelus.
He stood behind Claire holding her up against him. His yellow eyes were watching Drusilla as he retracted his fangs from Claire’s neck and made a show of licking his lips clean of blood. She gasped at the sight of her sister’s limp body in the clutches of the monster from her visions sent her heart racing.
“Ah, sweet Drusilla. Your family has been very hospitable to me in my grief over the death of your sister. How I miss her so,” Angelus said in mock regret and a mouthful of fangs.
Drusilla startled again and felt her heart skip a beat or two. Oh, God! He was the killer. Why didn’t her Sight ever show her the face of the pariah killing her family one at a time? She thought she had done it, made to believe she was the cause of the deaths around her. She was surely next, she knew! Lord, she knew too much now. She had to find a way to get past him and get out of here!
Angelus watched Drusilla, curious to see how she would react. Gauging her chances of escape, Angelus watched with a practiced eye. He knew she would try to elude him. Amused, he watched her as her eyes wildly searched for her opening to get past him. He knew she couldn't, unless he let her. He also knew he would, he wasn't finished with his game yet.
When she bolted past him and struggled with the door, he dropped the young girl in his arms and made a half-hearted attempt at snatching Drusilla’s skirts. As she yanked the door open and rushed outside, he lunged for her only to slam his hands against the doorframe narrowly missing her. Angelus watched Drusilla run off into the night and licked his lips like a hungry wolf. This was going to be fun.
“I haven’t had a good chase in a long while. All that sweet, virgin blood pumping harder and faster with the adrenalin makes the blood thick. She’ll taste so good,” Angelus said to himself.
Darla came out of the parents’ bedroom wearing a necklace and bracelet she had found. “What was that, dear?” she asked as she snapped the bracelet into place.
Angelus turned and looked at his Sire. “You look lovely. Come Darla, we have prey to catch!”
Drusilla ran blindly out of town and kept going. She couldn’t stop. Her mind screamed at her to run faster, never stop. If she stopped, it would be the end. Don’t look back; the monster was coming for her. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She hoped she was going in the direction of the church. Lord, she hoped so. She hadn’t realized it was so far away when one was desperate. She couldn’t be stuck out in the middle of nowhere in the dark, praying for daybreak. He would surely kill her then.
“God, please help me!” Drusilla cried as she ran. She had to find shelter before her tired legs gave out. She lost track of how long she ran; everything was lost in the dark. Her family was gone, her home. Nothing left. Have to keep running or die.
Then a light came into view like a port in a storm. She prayed to God and willed her legs to stay under her as she made her way to toward the light that slowly turned into the shape of the church. When she was close enough, she threw herself the door and pounded on it incessantly until it opened to an elderly priest.
“Please, Father! You have to grant me asylum. Someone is after me, he killed my Mummy and Daddy and little Claire. He’s killed them all!” Drusilla said fearfully.
“Of course, child. Come in,” the Priest said as he allowed her to enter.
Drusilla stepped inside and immediately grabbed his wrist. “Please, I need to find sanctuary away from here. He knows where I live, who I am. I’m not safe here.”
“Yes, child, but, it’s too late to go tonight. I’ll take you to Shrine of the Sacred Heart tomorrow,” the priest assured her as he escorted her to a room.
Outside the doors, Angelus listened to every word. He knew the Shrine was a convent a few miles away. He went back to where Darla waited for him. He could linger a day longer.
The next day found Drusilla at the convent and accepted warmly into the Sisters care. It was warm and she felt safer here than she had in months. She could finally relax after being a nervous wreck ever since Anna died. She visibly calmed as the Sisters showed her to her sleeping quarters and made it clear that she wanted to join them in their duty to God.
That night as Angelus was determined to get to the convent, Darla wasn’t so sure that he was in his right mind. She still didn’t know why he hadn’t killed the girl yet. So far, all he’d done for the past year is toy with her. If it were Darla, she’d be done with it by now.
“What is so special about this girl that you go out of your way to torment her, dear boy?” Darla asked they drew closer to the convent.
“I can’t explain it. There’s something about her that I want to possess,” Angelus replied.
Inside the convent, Drusilla was beginning to enjoy her new role. The tapestries and statues of the Saints calmed her nerves to an extent. She would reach up and clutch the cross around her neck for reassurance. However, the emotional plunge from the terror she had endured the past year made her cry, in relief that she survived, and sorrow for the family she had lost. She was still seeing the unknown monster in her mind. She couldn’t say he was unknown now, could she? He had a face of an angel and the mind of a killer. Even behind fortress-like walls and the safety the nuns provided, she could still feel him. She knew he still had plans for her.
Drusilla lay on her bunk, willing herself to finally give into the exhaustion she had felt for so long and sighed when blissful sleep finally came. She didn’t think it was long before she was jolted awake by the sound of multiple voices screaming. She got out of bed, went to the door and peeked out into the hall. That was when she saw several nuns running for their lives, screaming for God to save them.
Drusilla’s eyes widened when she saw a blonde female demon whose face resembled that of the male monster that killed her family. She silently backed into her room and shut the door. Running to the corner and crouching between the wall and her bed, she held her hands over her ears, squeezed her eyes shut and rocked back and forth, mumbling the Protection Prayer to herself.
When she heard the demon’s voice on the other side of the door call out for her, her fear went up another notch and she squeezed her fingers on the cross around her neck until her nails sliced into her palms prayed harder. As the demon entered her room and stared at her in human guise as her visions had warned her, she switched to another prayer.
‘Hail Mary, full of grace; the Lord is with Thee: blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death,” she mumbled repeatedly.
When he heard the Hail Mary cross Drusilla’s lips, the demon smirked at the irony in it. He knew the prayer well. Darla taught him to be prepared and if he was going to target convents as killing fields, he’d best know what he was attacking.
Angelus sat on the edge of Drusilla’s writing table and stared at her. She cowered in the corner, repeating the prayer and crying. At this point, he knew she was too far gone. He had breached everything in her life, save her virginity for the moment. She was senselessly babbling, lost in her own mind, crying her sisters’ names. Just then, Darla stumbled into the room, having caught up with him.
“Hello, luv,” Angelus greeted her without turning around.
Darla wrapped her arms around his shoulders and smiled. “We made quite a mess out there, blood and habits everywhere.”
Angelus finally looked at his Sire and said, “Convents, they're just a great big cookie jar.”
As they kissed, Drusilla looked up as if she finally noticed they were in the room and sobbed, “Black sky. It wants a little wormy me.”
Angelus and Darla broke apart and looked over at the sobbing girl.
Drusilla stared back at them with anguished eyes, but all she saw were her sisters’ corpses. “No. No. Make it stop!”
“I thought you killed her already,” Darla said annoyed.
“No. Just her family and everyone she’s held dear,” Angelus clarified. He pushed Darla down on the floor and rolled on top of her.
Drusilla shrank away from them and tried to mold herself against the wall. “Eyes like arrows - like - like needles.”
Angelus looked over at the girl. She was still beautiful, even with her hair in disarray and her mind completely lost. He leaned down to kiss Darla.
Drusilla’s eyes shifted to watch them and sobbed, “Snake in the woodshed. Snake in the woodshed. Snake in the woodshed! Snake in the woodshed!”
Darla rolled Angelus over so that she was now on top. “So are we going to kill her during, or after?”
Angelus sat up, startling her. “Neither. We turn her into one of us. Killing is so merciful at the end, isn't it? The pain has ended.”
Darla’s brow furrowed in confusion at this. “But to make her one of us? She's a lunatic.”
Angelus glanced over at the catatonic, mumbling girl. “Eternal torment.” He grabbed Darla’s arms and rolled over so that he was on top with her under him, nearly on top of Drusilla. “Am I learning?” Before she could answer, Angelus swooped down and kissed Darla while Drusilla laughed hysterically at first and then cried.
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Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998
Angel cried hard as sobs wracked his body. At some point during the story, he had moved back into the living room. He was currently lying on the floor, curled into a ball, crying as the memories assaulted his brain.
“I’m so sorry, Dru,” he said through hard sobs that threatened to tear out his chest. “I . . . I knowingly did this to you. I deliberately caused you so much pain and grief. Angelus was the monster you believed him to be, and you were so beautiful and pure and he - I did unspeakable acts to drive you over the brink. Such a masterpiece of how fragile the mind really is and I ruined you for the convent, in the eyes of the church and God and damned you to a life with nothing but death and blood and -. Why didn’t you hate me as Spike does?”
“Spike doesn’t hate you,” ‘Drusilla’ said. It was the first words she’d said since the story ended.
Angel ignored her, lost in his remorseful thoughts. He shook his head in denial and watched her with sightless eyes. “What I did to you, how much I destroyed you. I used to wake in the night screaming at the memories, reliving it in my head. I could never forget. I regret how I have left you with what little stability you have in your mind.”
Angel closed his eyes and let the tears come as the events surrounding Drusilla's demise unfolded in his mind. The ghost of Drusilla looked disgusted at the trembling figure. It had pushed too far. Instead of destroying him, or even better, bringing Angelus back, it had merely left the vampire broken. It would have to find another way to gain the desired results, even if It had to modify Its current plans.
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.
BETA: Myself, lexa4227, sevendeadlyfun
Rating - NC-17
Pairing - Angel(us)/Drusilla, Implied-Angelus/Darla)
Timeline - BTVS S3 AMENDS, missing scene.
Summary - AR. Takes place during AMENDS. Angel is haunted by Drusilla. A fresh, new, darkly erotic, and compelling look at how Angelus tormented Drusilla. He saw a butterfly, a gem of innocence and virginity, with the gift of Sight, and made his ambition to mold her. He took away everything she loved, her family, her innocence, her sanity, her life, and she was reborn . . .
Feedback - It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.
Author's Note - This fic wouldn't been possible if it wasn't for the encouragement and support of two wonderful women and great friends, kidcyclone and woman_of_, and my wonderful betas kateyes085, lexa4227 and sevendeadlyfun.
WARNINGS: Mental Torture, Torment, Anguish, Minor Character Deaths, Violence, Dark Fic dealing with mental/emotional disintegration.
Word Count: 5,905
Previous Part Here
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Part 2
Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998
Angel had moved back to the bedroom and lay on top of the covers during the tale. Drusilla’s apparition lay on her side next to him, her head propped up on her hand. She ran her fingertips over his chest and stomach and watched him shiver. Angel couldn’t feel the touch of fingers, just coolness on his skin. Everything about his Drusilla resembled how delicate she once was. She had slim hands with long, graceful fingers, tipped with French manicured talon-like nails.
He groaned as he imagined what they had felt like grazing and scoring his flesh. The thought brought to mind how she looked during a state of arousal. Darla was a beauty to behold in her day. Buffy was fresh-faced innocence. Drusilla, his ripe, wicked, little girl, was gorgeous. All that full, rich, dark hair tumbled around her shoulders on the pillow, her big blue eyes peeking at him through lowered lids, her red lips parted on a moan. Her shapeless dresses hid the gentle curves of her body, and the swell of her plump breasts.
Angel thought about how his childer looked. He discounted Penn on the grounds of early turning errors, Penn was into power and control, not so much for being in the family as using it for his own means, and Lawson was discounted because he wasn’t around long enough for Angel to have any influence on him.
But, Spike and Drusilla were entirely different. His girl had the visions, classic features, and ethereal beauty with big, dark blue eyes, and pure, virgin innocence, headed toward being a nun, destined for sainthood before Angelus saw her. William was a beautiful human, troublesome vampire that he was. He had honey blonde hair, incredibly bright blue eyes, cheekbones that were as a sharp as a razor blade and went on forever, with a beautiful, well-muscled body hidden under his drab clothes. Yes, he chose his childer carefully. Seeing them together was always a striking image: his dark princess and light baby boy. They were both quick and deadly killers.
Angel felt his cock harden at the thoughts running through his head and cursed. He was supposed to be damned and punished for his sins, not get excited over them.
“You’re remembering what it’s like to be with me again. Even after you finished that part of the story, the thoughts of killing my sister still fresh in your mind. The way you tormented me, making me think I caused it, made you hard. Bloodshed always turned you on,” ‘Drusilla’ purred as her fingers trailed down over his crotch.
Between the apparition’s words and the cool air seeping through his pants from her caress, Angel could barely suppress the groan that escaped.
“You snuck into my room and left that calling card of blood and rose petals. Made me think it was a sign from God that I had indeed killed her.” The apparition leaned closer to Angel’s ear and whispered, “You also left other things didn’t you? You left a sketch of Anna in her coffin with her tombstone underneath it. Such a wicked Daddy you were.”
“Dru, please!” Angel choked on a groan and swallowed hard.
She was driving him mad. If she was real . . . if she was tangible, he’d flip her over and bury himself inside her, to hell with the curse. However, he didn’t think that fucking Drusilla would cause perfect happiness, but it’d take care of the ache in his loins.
“Shh, Daddy. It’s just the beginning of the tale. Tell me more, show yourself for what you really are,” ‘Drusilla’ purred.
**************************
London, June, 1860
Ah, the Fitzwilliam Coming Out Ball. He hated these things, but Darla wanted to go out tonight, so here he was. The second they got inside the house, Darla was off his arm and lost in the crowd. His Sire was always looking for a blue blood to feast on. She always wanted the notoriety without scandal.
So, while his Sire was off hunting for a worthy kill, Angelus took to the sidelines and surveyed the gathering. Pompous socialites, dressed to impress their peers. He bet not a single one of them liked anyone else in this room. They were just here to observe their competition and be seen. It was a tiresome game; he’d take being a demon over it any day. It was simple: you hunt; you kill; occasionally adding to the ranks, and you move on.
Angelus watched the crowd with a roving eye when he saw Drusilla’s family enter the room regally. He thought he’d be stuck here, bored, while Darla entertained her . . . appetite. As he watched his latest project enter the room, he had a feeling this night would prove to be interesting after all.
Angelus slowly circled the throng while keeping a careful eye on Drusilla. She was nearly glued to her Father’s arm. He idly wondered if the man had any circulation left in the appendage. The small band started to play a song just as he approached them. Using the opportunity to make his presence known, he bumped into one of the girls, seemingly by accident and knocked her fan out of her hand.
“Pardon me, miss,” Angelus apologized as he bent down to retrieve the fan.
The girl smiled as she accepted the accessory from the stranger. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Liam,” Angelus said giving a short bow.
“Beatrice,” the young girl replied.
Angelus made a show of kissing the back of her hand in greeting before saying, “Well, Beatrice, might I interest you in a dance?”
“You certainly may,” the girl replied before looking to her father for approval. When he gave it with a nod, Angelus escorted her to the dance floor.
Drusilla watched curiously, as the stranger danced with her sister. She could have sworn she had seen him before. He was impeccably dressed and she couldn’t quite place him, but he looked so familiar. As the man twirled Beatrice around the floor, whispering in her ear and seeing her sister smile at something he said, images of the man and her sister flashed through her mind. Not wanting to cause a scene, Drusilla shook her head a bit, trying to clear it.
After the dance was over, Angelus returned Beatrice to her family and smiled at Drusilla. Taking her small hand in his, he bowed and kissed the back of it. “Miss Drusilla, your sister was just telling me about you. I feel as though I know you already.”
Drusilla’s breath hitched in her throat. He knew about her? “One should not be so familiar upon a first meeting, sir,” she said.
“Yes, you’ll have to excuse my boldness. It’s a shortcoming that I’m working on,” Angelus replied.
Drusilla snatched her hand back and bowed her head to try to hide the red blush creeping into her cheeks. She was starting to feel uncomfortable, even more so than usual when at these functions. If she ever observed the opposite sex, she would say he was quite handsome. But, she was saving herself for the church and therefore took little interest in them outside of common courtesy.
Angelus watched her behavior like a hawk. Her modesty was intriguing to say the least. It seemed that in mixed company she was the epitome of proper decorum. Anyone who saw her would never know that she was plagued by visions and nightmares. But, after months of tormenting her from afar, he knew what the family kept hidden behind closed doors.
At that moment, Angelus felt Darla’s presence near and turned to see her impatiently waiting for him. He gave a silent acknowledgement and turned to his new acquaintances. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be going.” He nodded to the girls in turn and said, “Thank you for the dance. It was nice to meet you, Miss Drusilla. Sir, if you would allow it, I would love to call on your daughter soon.”
After the man agreed and they set a tentative date, Angelus took his leave and joined Darla on the way out of the gala. When they got to the street, Darla looked at Angelus strangely. “Whatever were you doing in there, dear boy?”
“What do you mean?”
“Normally at these functions, you would have killed four girls by the time I’m ready to leave. Yet, tonight I find you socializing with a gentleman and his 2 young daughters. Is that where you’ve been lately, courting those girls?” Darla asked as she entered a waiting carriage.
“You have your pastimes, luv, and I have mine,” Angelus answered as he followed her.
As the carriage lumbered down the street Darla asked, “So, why haven’t you killed them yet?” When he glanced at her, Darla went on, “I may be 251, Angelus; but, I’m still a vampire. I recognized the girl, the one with the visions. She was supposed to be a present.”
“One I’m enjoying quite thoroughly,” Angelus conceded.
“Well, like any toy, they lose their newness and one has to move on,” Darla stated with a hint of jealousy.
“I have plans for her; they’ve already been set in motion. All you have to do is sit back and watch my progress.” Angelus smiled and then leaned closer and proceeded to distract her with kisses.
It took three weeks to placate Darla’s jealous streak over the amount of time he spent with his current obsession. He spent the time hunting with her, bedding her, staying underfoot until she grew tired of constantly tripping over him. In all that time, he thought about his next plan to terrorize the lovely Drusilla.
Once Darla had grown weary of his company, Angelus set about his plan to court Drusilla’s sister. He would show up at her door and the family would entertain him over a dinner he barely touched, but only for appearance sake, and drinks afterward. Every time he stepped foot in the house he heard Drusilla’s heart beating faster than a rabbit. She was deathly afraid of him and rightly so, but her family took no notice of her response to the likeable man who was courting Beatrice.
Angelus, or rather, Liam, visited the family every few days, playing up the act that he was really interested in Beatrice’s company. When he knew the family wasn’t looking his way, he stole glances at Drusilla. Every time she felt his eyes on her, he could hear her blood rush through her veins.
He courted Beatrice for a few months, before the act started to become tiresome. The more he was around Drusilla, he had to have her . . . to possess her completely . . . obliterate her and make her his. Then, one night he caught her alone in the family’s small garden.
“Isn’t late for you to be outside in the dark?” Angelus asked from the doorway. “There are all sorts of deadly predators lurking about.”
“It’s peaceful. No one bothers me out here. The stars speak to me sometimes,” Drusilla replied.
Angelus stepped up behind her a breath away from touching her. “Is that so, and what do they tell you?”
“You do not appear as you seem. You frighten me. They tell me to stay clear of you, sir,” Drusilla said.
Angelus placed his big hand on her pale shoulders and buried his nose in her hair, scenting her, whispering, “You know I can’t do that.” She smelled of jasmine and lavender, of pure innocence and cream virginity. He imagined that he could lick her all over and she’d taste of sweet vanilla.
Angelus turned Drusilla to face him and backed her up against the ivy-covered wall. He caressed his fingers from her shoulder, over her chest and up to lightly curl around her slim neck. Angelus felt her pulse beat faster under his fingertips. He could smell her fear, but it was mixed with something else, a scent he knew intimately.
Leaning closer, Angelus whispered, “You may fear me, sweet Drusilla, but you’re also excited by me.”
He pulled back a little to watch her eyes widen in realization of what his words meant. Angelus wasn’t surprised when she drew back and gave him a stinging slap. He had to give her credit for the small show of violence. When she wrenched away from him, Angelus smirked as he watched her gather her skirts and scurry back to the house.
“There’s still time, but I won’t wait forever,” Angelus said to himself as he wiped a bit of blood from his cheek where her nails scratched him.
Angelus strolled leisurely into the house. When he met Beatrice in the hall near the door, he kissed her formally on the cheek and made his goodbyes. She was a little disappointed to see him leave so soon.
“Are you sure you have to go?” she asked with a hint of pleading.
“Yes, I must. I shall see you soon,” Angelus reassured her.
As he made his apologies, he watched Drusilla with a heated look in his eyes. A red blush stained her cheeks. She turned away and went to her room. With his fascination out of the room, he smiled pleasantly at Beatrice and took his leave.
Angelus stayed in the shadows, leisurely smoking a cigarette as he waited for the lights inside the house to blink out, signaling that everyone was asleep. Then, he climbed the trellis to Beatrice’s room and silently entered through the window.
Beatrice was sound asleep, just as Anna was before her. Angelus smirked at the sight of virtuousness; assured that she was safe and sound. He could hear Drusilla’s whimpers through the far wall. His darling girl was in the midst of another nightmare, probably envisioning the one that was about to take place in this very room.
Angelus took his coat and shirt off, but left his pants on and then climbed into bed beside Beatrice. When she felt the dip in the bed, her eyes sprang open and stared at a bare-chested Liam. When she started to voice her shock, he covered her mouth with his hand.
“Shh, you will not want to wake the whole house and bring everyone in here. What would they think of you with a man in your bed?” Angelus asked in mock concern.
Beatrice stared at him with wide eyes and shook her head. No, she didn’t want to be part of a scandal. She had always been a good girl. She was bright and outgoing, which was the exact opposite of Drusilla. Her sister always acted strangely and wanted to be left to her own company. She’d never get a man that way. Which was an odd thing to think of at a time like this when Beatrice herself was confronted with a man in her bed.
“Good girl,” Angelus said before sliding his free hand under the covers and proceeded to tease her body.
Beatrice whimpered at the sensations Liam made her feel. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. There were tingling nerves she didn’t know existed. Tears welled up in her eyes more from fear of the unknown than of Liam. The man she knew was kind and gentle. At the moment, he was also quite amorous.
Years of learning how to please Darla worked at times like this. Angelus watched the girl’s face for reaction when he slid his hand down her quivering stomach to the coarse curls between her thighs. He grinned, showing blunt human teeth as she bowed under him when his fingers found the little nub that was hidden.
Beatrice tried to speak past the palm covering her mouth. She tried to pull away; everything was too much for her senses. She was a virgin. She shouldn’t be doing this! Not before she was married! It simply wasn’t done . . . was it?
Beatrice pulled at Angelus’ hand, trying to stop him from his insistent probing of her sensitive, and embarrassing, body. She didn’t wish to make any noise. If anyone were to discover her in such a compromising situation, she would be ruined. As she struggled, one thought went through her mind, ‘this man is unaccountably strong.’
Angelus ignored her struggles and proceeded to enjoy the pleasures of her body. He heard the mumbled protests. He ignored those, too. As much as she objected to what he was doing to her, her body responded to him. It took longer than he thought, but finally, her body shuddered under him in orgasm. He withdrew his hand. The second her body relaxed, his face shifted, fangs gleaming silver in the moonlight, and he dove for her throat.
The taste of her blood was like any other innocent virgin, but underneath he could taste the bitterness of her sibling rivalry with Drusilla, the sorrow from the loss of Anna, the excitement that he caused by climbing into bed with her. When he had drunk his fill, he pulled away and looked around the room, deciding the best place to leave a calling card.
The next day around midmorning when Beatrice still hadn’t joined the family for the day’s activities, Drusilla went in to check on her. When she pushed the door open, it was like déjà vu. It was the same horrific scene from her dream. Beatrice’s body was posed as demurely as her nature. The bed had been stripped of the top sheet and blankets, displaying the virgin’s blood on the mattress. On the wall above the bed, underneath the mounted cross, written in blood with flecks of a mysterious white substance was the message: ‘A gift for God’.
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Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998
He remembered killing Beatrice and displaying her like a sacrificial lamb. He squeezed his eyes shut against the gruesome image in his mind. ‘A gift for God’, really it was a gift for Drusilla. In his own way, Angelus showed that he wanted her by killing Beatrice to clear the path for his pursuit of the clairvoyant beauty. Angel shook his head to clear it as he moved to the other side of the bed, shrinking away from the apparition of Drusilla.
“God, what he did to her. It was vulgar and morbid and Dru found that scene.” Angel curled into himself, holding on to the side of the bed and trembling as the images washed over him.
The apparition crawled across the bed on its hands and knees, settling behind him. She nuzzled against his cheek, the cool air causing him to shiver and jerk away.
‘Drusilla’ pressed on, whispering in his ear, “Yes. You made such a bloody tableau to be discovered in the harsh light of day.” She licked his cheek, but all he felt was cold, damp air.
“Why didn’t you run from him - me then?” Angel asked on a shuddering breath.
“You were a clever Daddy, never let anyone know that there was a sacrilegious murderer in our midst. You’re the monster all parents warn their sweet, little children about. You slaughtered two of my sisters in their own beds without anyone knowing until it was too late,” ‘Drusilla’ said. She looked down his body and smiled seductively before whispering, “You’re still hard. Such a deliciously sinful Daddy turned on by the thoughts of violence and blood. You could drive an innocent girl mad. Oh, wait. You did!”
As Angel tried to get away from her, he fell off the side of the bed and hurriedly crawled to the adjacent wall. He shook his head in denial and repeatedly said, “No, n-n-no. I’m not like that any more. I have a soul damn it!”
“Face up to what you are, my angel.” ‘Drusilla’ was perched on the side of the bed with her legs crossed. “You’re a demon . . . a killer . . . once you accept that, you’ll be at peace.” Angel blinked and ‘Drusilla’ was sitting before him again. “Embrace what you are.”
“No, I can’t! If I do, it will kill everyone,” Angel said, shaking his head in denial.
“What does it matter? You’re immortal. They’ll all die one day anyway. Why should they suffer any more than they have to?” ‘Drusilla’ asked.
Angel remembered those words clearly. He said those very words when he taught a newly-turned Drusilla how to hunt and kill.
**************************
London, Early October, 1860
It had been three days since they buried Beatrice. Friends of the family noted the short amount of time between Anna’s passing and Beatrice’s death. No one spoke the word ‘murder’. It was too ghastly to even think that someone in Kensal Green could be so evil as to murder two sweet girls and sisters at that. Everyone commented on the toll it must have taken on the surviving family members, noting Drusilla’s instability of late.
With the thought that there could be a monster in their neighborhood, everyone took extra precautions. A community that felt so safe months before were now locking their doors and windows. The family themselves took extra measures, making sure the holy water font was full, crosses on every wall in the house, garlic over the doorways, and anything else their superstitious minds could think of.
The death of her two sisters, and the subsequent ‘gifts’ that were left for her by the person responsible for them had caused Drusilla’s fragile mind to break down steadily. She was prone to nervous fits and talking to the moon, stars and angels that no one else could see. She would flee to the church at what her family considered to be odd times. In truth, she went every time a vision hit her. She would see the unknown monster closing in on her and replays of her sisters deaths.
Drusilla stepped out of the church, wrapped the handmade, red velvet cloak tighter around her body, drawing the hood up against the fall chill. She looked up and down the street and hurried home. She hadn’t meant to stay out past sundown, it wasn’t safe with a serial killer running loose and targeting her family. She had stayed to confer with the Priest about joining the church as a nun at the Shrine of the Sacred Heart Convent a few miles away.
She was so lost in thought that she startled when a man bumped into her. “Sorry miss. You should really be inside somewhere safe. Do you realize there’s a sunset curfew in effect?”
“Yes sir, I know. I’m going straight home now,” Drusilla said and went on her way.
When Drusilla reached the house, went inside, and quickly shut the door. Pulling the hood of her cloak off her head, she unfastened it and hung it up. Then, she went into the family room where she stopped in her tracks. Her parents were propped up in their usual chairs by the fire, but they weren’t talking like they normally did before retiring for the night.
Drusilla caught a glimpse of Claire, her youngest and only remaining sister, standing in the doorway. When she turned to speak to the 12-year-old, the girl moved aside to reveal Angelus.
He stood behind Claire holding her up against him. His yellow eyes were watching Drusilla as he retracted his fangs from Claire’s neck and made a show of licking his lips clean of blood. She gasped at the sight of her sister’s limp body in the clutches of the monster from her visions sent her heart racing.
“Ah, sweet Drusilla. Your family has been very hospitable to me in my grief over the death of your sister. How I miss her so,” Angelus said in mock regret and a mouthful of fangs.
Drusilla startled again and felt her heart skip a beat or two. Oh, God! He was the killer. Why didn’t her Sight ever show her the face of the pariah killing her family one at a time? She thought she had done it, made to believe she was the cause of the deaths around her. She was surely next, she knew! Lord, she knew too much now. She had to find a way to get past him and get out of here!
Angelus watched Drusilla, curious to see how she would react. Gauging her chances of escape, Angelus watched with a practiced eye. He knew she would try to elude him. Amused, he watched her as her eyes wildly searched for her opening to get past him. He knew she couldn't, unless he let her. He also knew he would, he wasn't finished with his game yet.
When she bolted past him and struggled with the door, he dropped the young girl in his arms and made a half-hearted attempt at snatching Drusilla’s skirts. As she yanked the door open and rushed outside, he lunged for her only to slam his hands against the doorframe narrowly missing her. Angelus watched Drusilla run off into the night and licked his lips like a hungry wolf. This was going to be fun.
“I haven’t had a good chase in a long while. All that sweet, virgin blood pumping harder and faster with the adrenalin makes the blood thick. She’ll taste so good,” Angelus said to himself.
Darla came out of the parents’ bedroom wearing a necklace and bracelet she had found. “What was that, dear?” she asked as she snapped the bracelet into place.
Angelus turned and looked at his Sire. “You look lovely. Come Darla, we have prey to catch!”
Drusilla ran blindly out of town and kept going. She couldn’t stop. Her mind screamed at her to run faster, never stop. If she stopped, it would be the end. Don’t look back; the monster was coming for her. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She hoped she was going in the direction of the church. Lord, she hoped so. She hadn’t realized it was so far away when one was desperate. She couldn’t be stuck out in the middle of nowhere in the dark, praying for daybreak. He would surely kill her then.
“God, please help me!” Drusilla cried as she ran. She had to find shelter before her tired legs gave out. She lost track of how long she ran; everything was lost in the dark. Her family was gone, her home. Nothing left. Have to keep running or die.
Then a light came into view like a port in a storm. She prayed to God and willed her legs to stay under her as she made her way to toward the light that slowly turned into the shape of the church. When she was close enough, she threw herself the door and pounded on it incessantly until it opened to an elderly priest.
“Please, Father! You have to grant me asylum. Someone is after me, he killed my Mummy and Daddy and little Claire. He’s killed them all!” Drusilla said fearfully.
“Of course, child. Come in,” the Priest said as he allowed her to enter.
Drusilla stepped inside and immediately grabbed his wrist. “Please, I need to find sanctuary away from here. He knows where I live, who I am. I’m not safe here.”
“Yes, child, but, it’s too late to go tonight. I’ll take you to Shrine of the Sacred Heart tomorrow,” the priest assured her as he escorted her to a room.
Outside the doors, Angelus listened to every word. He knew the Shrine was a convent a few miles away. He went back to where Darla waited for him. He could linger a day longer.
The next day found Drusilla at the convent and accepted warmly into the Sisters care. It was warm and she felt safer here than she had in months. She could finally relax after being a nervous wreck ever since Anna died. She visibly calmed as the Sisters showed her to her sleeping quarters and made it clear that she wanted to join them in their duty to God.
That night as Angelus was determined to get to the convent, Darla wasn’t so sure that he was in his right mind. She still didn’t know why he hadn’t killed the girl yet. So far, all he’d done for the past year is toy with her. If it were Darla, she’d be done with it by now.
“What is so special about this girl that you go out of your way to torment her, dear boy?” Darla asked they drew closer to the convent.
“I can’t explain it. There’s something about her that I want to possess,” Angelus replied.
Inside the convent, Drusilla was beginning to enjoy her new role. The tapestries and statues of the Saints calmed her nerves to an extent. She would reach up and clutch the cross around her neck for reassurance. However, the emotional plunge from the terror she had endured the past year made her cry, in relief that she survived, and sorrow for the family she had lost. She was still seeing the unknown monster in her mind. She couldn’t say he was unknown now, could she? He had a face of an angel and the mind of a killer. Even behind fortress-like walls and the safety the nuns provided, she could still feel him. She knew he still had plans for her.
Drusilla lay on her bunk, willing herself to finally give into the exhaustion she had felt for so long and sighed when blissful sleep finally came. She didn’t think it was long before she was jolted awake by the sound of multiple voices screaming. She got out of bed, went to the door and peeked out into the hall. That was when she saw several nuns running for their lives, screaming for God to save them.
Drusilla’s eyes widened when she saw a blonde female demon whose face resembled that of the male monster that killed her family. She silently backed into her room and shut the door. Running to the corner and crouching between the wall and her bed, she held her hands over her ears, squeezed her eyes shut and rocked back and forth, mumbling the Protection Prayer to herself.
When she heard the demon’s voice on the other side of the door call out for her, her fear went up another notch and she squeezed her fingers on the cross around her neck until her nails sliced into her palms prayed harder. As the demon entered her room and stared at her in human guise as her visions had warned her, she switched to another prayer.
‘Hail Mary, full of grace; the Lord is with Thee: blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death,” she mumbled repeatedly.
When he heard the Hail Mary cross Drusilla’s lips, the demon smirked at the irony in it. He knew the prayer well. Darla taught him to be prepared and if he was going to target convents as killing fields, he’d best know what he was attacking.
Angelus sat on the edge of Drusilla’s writing table and stared at her. She cowered in the corner, repeating the prayer and crying. At this point, he knew she was too far gone. He had breached everything in her life, save her virginity for the moment. She was senselessly babbling, lost in her own mind, crying her sisters’ names. Just then, Darla stumbled into the room, having caught up with him.
“Hello, luv,” Angelus greeted her without turning around.
Darla wrapped her arms around his shoulders and smiled. “We made quite a mess out there, blood and habits everywhere.”
Angelus finally looked at his Sire and said, “Convents, they're just a great big cookie jar.”
As they kissed, Drusilla looked up as if she finally noticed they were in the room and sobbed, “Black sky. It wants a little wormy me.”
Angelus and Darla broke apart and looked over at the sobbing girl.
Drusilla stared back at them with anguished eyes, but all she saw were her sisters’ corpses. “No. No. Make it stop!”
“I thought you killed her already,” Darla said annoyed.
“No. Just her family and everyone she’s held dear,” Angelus clarified. He pushed Darla down on the floor and rolled on top of her.
Drusilla shrank away from them and tried to mold herself against the wall. “Eyes like arrows - like - like needles.”
Angelus looked over at the girl. She was still beautiful, even with her hair in disarray and her mind completely lost. He leaned down to kiss Darla.
Drusilla’s eyes shifted to watch them and sobbed, “Snake in the woodshed. Snake in the woodshed. Snake in the woodshed! Snake in the woodshed!”
Darla rolled Angelus over so that she was now on top. “So are we going to kill her during, or after?”
Angelus sat up, startling her. “Neither. We turn her into one of us. Killing is so merciful at the end, isn't it? The pain has ended.”
Darla’s brow furrowed in confusion at this. “But to make her one of us? She's a lunatic.”
Angelus glanced over at the catatonic, mumbling girl. “Eternal torment.” He grabbed Darla’s arms and rolled over so that he was on top with her under him, nearly on top of Drusilla. “Am I learning?” Before she could answer, Angelus swooped down and kissed Darla while Drusilla laughed hysterically at first and then cried.
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Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998
Angel cried hard as sobs wracked his body. At some point during the story, he had moved back into the living room. He was currently lying on the floor, curled into a ball, crying as the memories assaulted his brain.
“I’m so sorry, Dru,” he said through hard sobs that threatened to tear out his chest. “I . . . I knowingly did this to you. I deliberately caused you so much pain and grief. Angelus was the monster you believed him to be, and you were so beautiful and pure and he - I did unspeakable acts to drive you over the brink. Such a masterpiece of how fragile the mind really is and I ruined you for the convent, in the eyes of the church and God and damned you to a life with nothing but death and blood and -. Why didn’t you hate me as Spike does?”
“Spike doesn’t hate you,” ‘Drusilla’ said. It was the first words she’d said since the story ended.
Angel ignored her, lost in his remorseful thoughts. He shook his head in denial and watched her with sightless eyes. “What I did to you, how much I destroyed you. I used to wake in the night screaming at the memories, reliving it in my head. I could never forget. I regret how I have left you with what little stability you have in your mind.”
Angel closed his eyes and let the tears come as the events surrounding Drusilla's demise unfolded in his mind. The ghost of Drusilla looked disgusted at the trembling figure. It had pushed too far. Instead of destroying him, or even better, bringing Angelus back, it had merely left the vampire broken. It would have to find another way to gain the desired results, even if It had to modify Its current plans.