BtVS Ficlet: Evensong
Title: Evensong
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Drusilla, Spike, Angelus, Darla.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nothing too specific.
Summary: Drusilla, Darla, Angelus, and Spike, go hunting for victims in London.
Word Count: 500
Written For: oneill’s prompt ‘Any, Any, “I can taste their souls from here”,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BTVS, or the characters.
The church loomed over the foursome as they stood outside the gates, dressed in their ‘Sunday’ best, but unable to set foot on holy ground because of the demons that hid behind their human faces. Darla, with her perfect features, the very picture of innocence; an artist’s dream, her golden ringlets spilling from beneath her bonnet. Angelus, tall and handsome, looking every inch the city gentleman, his voice still carrying the gentle lilt of his native Ireland. William, neatly attired but cocky, a roguish sparkle in his eyes and a smile to set young women’s hearts a-flutter. Drusilla, sweet and coy, childlike, twirling her parasol over her shoulder even though the sun had set almost two hours before.
Evening service was underway, and from within the church came a multitude of voices raised in pious hymns of praise.
“Hear them sing,” sighed Drusilla. “They sound like angels.” She bit her lip, tilted her chin coquettishly, and giggled. “I can taste their souls from here.”
“Of course you can, my sweet.” William raised Drusilla’s hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, captivated. He found everything about her utterly enthralling.
Her eyes met his; her smile was sweet but there was a lustful wickedness in her gaze. “I want to drink them up, swallow their voices, and carry them inside me forever, so I can listen to them whenever I want.”
“Then you shall,” Darla told her.
“We’ll follow them, one family at a time,” Angelus added, lips curving into a sly, dangerous smile. “We’ll follow them and make them sing for us, and then we’ll drain them dry.”
“Drink their heart’s blood,” Drusilla crooned, dancing to the music floating out of the church. “Taste their fear as they scream for help. We’ll show them no mercy. I’ll let Miss Edith watch, if she’s very good.” She paused, raising her skirts slightly with one hand, exposing one ankle, and glancing back over her shoulder. “Do you think I’m pretty, Spike?”
“Ravishing, my darling. There’s none lovelier, and never will be,” William assured her.
“You say the sweetest things.” The smile she gave him then was pure sin.
“Only to you, my sweet.”
Time trickled passed, the church fell silent, and at last the doors opened, the congregation filing out. The wealthiest were ushered into carriages, while the poorest, and those living nearby, left on foot.
“Who shall it be?” Angelus asked, his voice low and smooth as silk.
Drusilla’s eyes roamed the passers-by. “Them.” She indicated a family walking across the street, parents, a young son, and a daughter almost grown. “Such a pretty dress, and the boy, so precious… I could eat him all up. We should save him for last.”
The four fell in behind their chosen family, nothing about them to show they were anything more than two young couples on an evening stroll. No one, least of all their chosen victims, would ever see the demons that dwelt inside them. Not until it was far too late.
The End
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Drusilla, Spike, Angelus, Darla.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nothing too specific.
Summary: Drusilla, Darla, Angelus, and Spike, go hunting for victims in London.
Word Count: 500
Written For: oneill’s prompt ‘Any, Any, “I can taste their souls from here”,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BTVS, or the characters.
The church loomed over the foursome as they stood outside the gates, dressed in their ‘Sunday’ best, but unable to set foot on holy ground because of the demons that hid behind their human faces. Darla, with her perfect features, the very picture of innocence; an artist’s dream, her golden ringlets spilling from beneath her bonnet. Angelus, tall and handsome, looking every inch the city gentleman, his voice still carrying the gentle lilt of his native Ireland. William, neatly attired but cocky, a roguish sparkle in his eyes and a smile to set young women’s hearts a-flutter. Drusilla, sweet and coy, childlike, twirling her parasol over her shoulder even though the sun had set almost two hours before.
Evening service was underway, and from within the church came a multitude of voices raised in pious hymns of praise.
“Hear them sing,” sighed Drusilla. “They sound like angels.” She bit her lip, tilted her chin coquettishly, and giggled. “I can taste their souls from here.”
“Of course you can, my sweet.” William raised Drusilla’s hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, captivated. He found everything about her utterly enthralling.
Her eyes met his; her smile was sweet but there was a lustful wickedness in her gaze. “I want to drink them up, swallow their voices, and carry them inside me forever, so I can listen to them whenever I want.”
“Then you shall,” Darla told her.
“We’ll follow them, one family at a time,” Angelus added, lips curving into a sly, dangerous smile. “We’ll follow them and make them sing for us, and then we’ll drain them dry.”
“Drink their heart’s blood,” Drusilla crooned, dancing to the music floating out of the church. “Taste their fear as they scream for help. We’ll show them no mercy. I’ll let Miss Edith watch, if she’s very good.” She paused, raising her skirts slightly with one hand, exposing one ankle, and glancing back over her shoulder. “Do you think I’m pretty, Spike?”
“Ravishing, my darling. There’s none lovelier, and never will be,” William assured her.
“You say the sweetest things.” The smile she gave him then was pure sin.
“Only to you, my sweet.”
Time trickled passed, the church fell silent, and at last the doors opened, the congregation filing out. The wealthiest were ushered into carriages, while the poorest, and those living nearby, left on foot.
“Who shall it be?” Angelus asked, his voice low and smooth as silk.
Drusilla’s eyes roamed the passers-by. “Them.” She indicated a family walking across the street, parents, a young son, and a daughter almost grown. “Such a pretty dress, and the boy, so precious… I could eat him all up. We should save him for last.”
The four fell in behind their chosen family, nothing about them to show they were anything more than two young couples on an evening stroll. No one, least of all their chosen victims, would ever see the demons that dwelt inside them. Not until it was far too late.
The End