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Author's Chapter Notes:
I had difficulty writing this chapter so if it does fail miserably please tell me how to make it more enjoyable to read.
Buffy had decided that maybe, particularly in such an instance as this, it was better not to think things could get any worse, because from the maniacal glint in Drusilla’s eyes they were about to. The Slayer inwardly cursed Spike for putting her in this position. If he had just left their ‘relationship’ alone instead of trying to change from arch rivals to lovers, then none of this would have happened. Either that or she would have naturally fallen for the vampire. Buffy balked at that idea. */As if*/


She was genuinely concerned about the vampire though. For all his snark and bravado, Spike would have ultimately let her go. Particularly after that near kiss they had shared, which Buffy on retrospect was going to ignore completely. The Slayer blushed before sneaking a glance at her now bloodied nemesis.


The vampire had not moved an inch, all life seeming to have been knocked out when his sire had abruptly struck him with a crow bar. The force of the blows was enough to have caused a bloom of blood to have seeped across his skull, the vibrancy of it contrasting against his white hair. She didn’t think he would be getting up any time soon, certainly not quick enough to save her from Drusilla who having now incapacitated Spike was involved in a happy dance. Who would have thought that Willow had anything in common with the insane? Knowing that Dru was too self involved Buffy cast another glance, some small segment worrying over his still form. Perhaps if she had listened to Spike this could have been averted. It was unsettling and even frightening not hearing a customary groan or whisper of breath escape from him. What if Dru had done permanent damage?


“Pretty Slayer should keep her eyes to herself.”


Spike’s sire had inched forward during Buffy’s examination, only her hands weaving aimlessly around her. The blood red half moons of her nails seemed to cut at the very air itself, reminding Buffy of the fateful gash in Kendra’s neck. The wound had been cut as though with a blade, a single swipe slashing its way into the dark slayer’s veins. The cascade of blood which had greeted Buffy during her discovery now seemed to shine in Drusilla’s eyes. The slayer had little doubt that she too would be forced to join her sister slayer in an early grave if she did not escape soon. The corset that Drusilla wore, plunged into a low neckline, ending in a sharp point at her waist. Loose strands were tucked behind her ears, accentuating the high cheekbones which now framed a deadly set of fangs. There was no way Buffy would be able to make it out alive.


“Now that the big bad dog is silenced, maybe you and I can talk sunshine.” Drusilla’s voice carried none of its usual lunacy; each word stabbing apart the slayer’s little remaining courage. Her tongue darted sinuously between her fangs, smearing a layer of dried blood.


“You know its not nice for pretty dolls to call puppies names, don’t you?” Dru asked the question quietly as though genuinely waiting for an answer. When Buffy didn’t respond she continued.


“The last girl who called my nasty Spike beneath her got all her dreadful locks pulled out and her traitorous throat cut into ribbons. You don’t want that do you sunshine?” Drusilla grinned wickedly, moving so closely to the slayer that if she chose to breathe out, she would have swallowed her breath and palpable fear. Her smile only seemed to bloom as Dru began to tap the slayer’s heartbeat into the wall. “Tick tock, tick tock, the web is falling down” sang Dru, the nails inching slowly across till they rested against Buffy’s cheek, “the spider has come for little miss muffet and now miss edith shall finally get her cake.”


“Drusilla please… let me go.” Buffy hated the desperation which filled her plea yet it appeared to stop Drusilla for a moment, the vampiress halting her inching descent to the slayer’s throat.


“And why should I do that? You’ve been nothing but a bad girl and I desperately want some cake.”


Buffy smiled brightly, watching as Dru’s eyes wandered away to the prone form of Spike to her left. “But wouldn’t it be better for Miss Edith to wait? I mean Dru, I can’t be that tasty, and plus there’s lots of cake Spike has been hoarding around here.” Buffy struggled to point towards the ladder, having to suffice with inclining her head when the chains would not budge. “Just think how happy the spider would be and you could even let me down to help you find it.”


Dru paused for a moment, a grin of childish delight crossing her face before pinning the slayer against the wall by her forearm. “You think your very sneaky don’t you Sunshine? Daddy and Spike have always wanted you but I can’t see the reason… Miss Edith says you should be a prize for Spike”, whined Drusilla, the petulant tone almost comical, “but I don’t think she’ll mind if I enjoy it at all.” Dru shifted to her human guise for a moment whispering something intelligible into Buffy’s ear before sliding her tongue across her throat.


“Please Dru… I’m begging you. Please stop.”


The dark vampiress lifted her head for a moment, tendrils of ebony hair thankfully smothering the vampire’s face from view. “Don’t worry sunshine it’s just like a thunderstorm, one small flash and you’ll be dead.” The words were barely a hiss yet sounded painfully close, Buffy feeling each syllable echo across her skin.


“Now if we are quite done, I’m going to have a piece” stated Drusilla biting down into the slayer’s cream neck before smiling from ear to ear. Each inch that the fangs sank into was pure agony, the slayer writhing in pain as her blood was pulled from her body.


Drusilla was oblivious.


The vampire began to hum to herself before breaking out of her reverie. Perhaps it would be polite to compliment the present. After all, they would be family.


“You taste like vanilla sunshine. Vanilla and strawberries” she whispered gently. Her tongue swiped at the blood which coated her lips like a child smothering itself in ice cream. For Dru this was far better than any circus imaginable, even those created by the pixies. She considered telling the slayer this before sighing. The present would die if she didn’t finish the job. Her fangs sank back down into Buffy’s throat, tearing a cry from the slayer as a barrage of images assaulted her.

***
The image of Christ, hanging inside a church as she whispered across its cold steps. “Forgive me father. I cannot help myself… the visions keep coming.”


Angel or maybe Angelus, tall and with a bloodstained moustache …. a sensation of connection and family. Dark and brooding as he crawled over the bed towards her….


A familiar man, almost Giles like in appearance in a dark alley fear lighting his features as the owner crept closer. He seemed to be crying, wiping lithe hands across his glasses as he spoke about purses.

The overwhelming sensation of blood, rich as chocolate washing over her throat and coating her insides as a man slumped across her.


Dancing under fake stars in New York with a blonde pale man, now recognisable as Spike.


Pained blue eyes and the connections of Childe. Worshipper. Accessory; contrasting against a dark brown: Sire, creator, protector, Daddy.

***

Buffy failed to dissect the images as they grew faster, interloping to include all of Drusilla’s dark history in a multitude of flashes. She wondered bleakly if this is what it truly felt like to die or if Drusilla was only taste testing. Her screams grew louder as the images assaulted her senses, her own heart beat fading away into the background as it all descended into darkness.


The abrupt sting of a forced wrist against her mouth and the taste of copper rich blood did not even register in the slayer’s mind, as she instinctually sank her teeth into the flesh.


The last thing before Buffy closed her eyes, was the dawning comprehension and horror within Spike’s as he gazed at Drusilla’s feast and the echoing of a single word:


Sire.





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