Author: Elsa Frohman Feedback:elsa@frohman.net Rating: This part, R for violence (Hey, these people are EEEEEVILLL) Spoilers: None Summary: What did Angelus think of Drusilla's choice of the
"wisest and bravest knight in all the land?"
Have I mentioned how much I hate him?
I want to pound on him until there isn't a bone left
unbroken. I'd like to set him on fire and watch him
go up like a torch. It would be oh so satisfying to tear
his head off.
Drusilla doesn't come to me anymore. I could take
her, but she wouldn't play along. She's got her
playmate now. He gives her anything she desires.
He's her knight, her lover, her caretaker and her
child. He learned the games she likes and plays them
with wild abandon.
She's his now and he's hers. She's beyond my reach.
Sometimes I wonder how much of her insanity is a
result of what I did to her, and how much is from the
sight. Seers often go mad. As a general rule, knowing
what's coming is anything but comforting.
Dru's madness is a funny thing. Most of the time it's
just the rhythm to her melody. But every now and
then it jumps out and takes over -- that's when you've
got to look out.
William had been with us for a week or two and he
was still resisting us that night.
I rose before the others and went over to where she
and he slept together. It was such an odd sight --
these two curled together as lovers, though I knew
she wouldn't let him end his celibacy.
Dru sensed I was there, opened her eyes and looked
up at me smiling her little girl smile -- looking as
innocent as she'd been before she met me. Her dark
hair was loose around her head as she lay there
naked, curled up against his back.
"He'll steal the Angels' glory," she said sweetly.
"Angelus flies towards the sun with wings they
nailed to his back, but my prince will soar on wings
he fashioned out of the light in his heart."
"What in the devil do you mean by that?" I asked.
Silly question, she seldom understands what she says
any more than I do.
"Poor Angelus," she said, "the light shines on him
and he weeps for a hundred years. Cronus will laugh
and laugh."
She started to giggle and William roused. He twisted
his neck to peer over his shoulder and look at her, but
didn't say anything. He seldom spoke in those days --
the answers to his questions were almost always
things he didn't want to hear.
"Cronus is my champion and Angelus is Uranus,"
she said, running her fingernails lightly over his bare
shoulder.
"Shut up!" I snapped. She can be so damn annoying
when she gets off on these gibberish prophecies.
He glanced over at me, then back at her, and
frowned. "I'm not planning on swallowing any
children," he said seriously.
That's one of the really irritating things about him.
He understands her! She can babble like the mad
woman she is and he'll see just what she's talking
about -- even back then, when he didn't understand
anything about us, yet.
Drusilla started to whine. She was getting worked up
and that's never good. She's a vampire, and there are
few things more dangerous than a frenzied, insane
vampire.
"Ooooo...." she keened, wrapping her arms around
herself and rocking. "No, no, no, no, no."
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"She'll take my Cronus away," Dru cried. "No, no,
no! I can't see her, only her golden hair."
She was up then and coming at me with teeth and
claws. I don't suppose I was in any real danger, but it
was disconcerting all the same. I batted her aside and
she went for Darla, pouncing on her as she still lay in
our bed.
"WHORE!" she shrieked.
I grabbed her around the waist and dragged her off.
"Harlot!" she screamed, her arms and legs flailing.
Darla was sitting up by now. "Well yes," she said
dryly. "And your point is?"
"Help me get her tied down," I shouted as Dru
bucked and windmilled in my grip. I was in danger
of losing her any moment. She was strong -- as
strong as a vampire, naturally. I was stronger, of
course, but in her current state she was capable of
momentary surges that might overcome my hold on
her at any moment.
As Dru continued to struggle in my arms, William
got out of bed came over to us. He tried to put a hand
on her face, and got a nasty bite on his finger for his
trouble.
Then he had an idea -- I saw it light up in his eyes.
He went to the corner where Dru's doll collection
was arranged on a table. I wonder whether he would
have touched any of them if he'd known how Dru
went about collecting them, but that's beside the
point. He picked one out and brought it over to where
I continued to restrain its current owner.
"Drusilla, princess, Miss Edith is crying," he said
quietly.
Dru stopped struggling. She wailed inarticulately, but
her frenzied motion calmed.
William held the doll out to her. "She wants her
mummy." He stepped closer and pressed the doll to
her breast. He took her hand and guided it up to hold
it.
"There, see? She's better now. She just needed a
hug."
I released my grip on her, and Dru collapsed into
William's arms sobbing. He took her back to the bed
and sat down with her, holding her and rocking her.
"You're fine now, princess," he said softly.
"Everything will be all right." He stroked her hair
and face, and kissed her tenderly. He brushed away
her tears and kissed her eyelids.
"Why was Miss Edith crying?" she asked.
"Miss Annabelle was rude to her," William explained
patiently. "She wouldn't answer when Miss Edith
talked to her."
"Bad, rude Miss Annabelle."
"Yes, Miss Annabelle was very naughty. Miss Cora
is taking her to task for it."
He went on and on, weaving a complicated tale of
the dolls' family life. Dru hung on every word. She
was calm now, and sinking toward the
unconsciousness that always followed her frenzied
episodes. As her head drooped, William laid her back
on the bed and arranged the coverlet around and over
her.
"William?"
"Yes, princess?"
"Will you stay with me forever?"
"Of course I will. Forever, princess."
I had retreated as soon as William took Dru off my
hands. Darla and I watched as he calmed her and put
her back to bed.
"Well, well," Darla said softly. "It seems our odd,
useless William has a skill after all."
I nodded. I had to agree.
"Do you realize he knows the names of all her
dolls?" Darla said in awe. "Who would listen to her
as she natters on about them?"
"He would, apparently."
For the first time since he joined us, I could actually
see an advantage to having William around. Neither
Darla nor myself had ever calmed Drusilla as quickly
or effectively.
So, I was feeling a bit kinder toward the git that
night. That's my excuse. I wanted to make things a
little easier on him. Not a characteristic sentiment on
my part, but odd impulses hit me now and then.
I invited him to come along on my night's hunt.
"I'm not going to kill ..."
I waved him off. "You don't have to. Surely you'd
like to get out for a bit, wouldn't you? You've been
cooped up in here for days."
"I think I should stay with Drusilla," he said
uncertainly.
"Darla will look after her, won't you sweetheart?"
Darla rolled her eyes. She was not exactly the
nurturing type. "Oh, all right. But you have to bring
me back someone."
"I'll bring you someone plump and juicy, my love."
We walked the dark streets together that night. I was
doing most of the talking, explaining the best places
to make a kill -- where there would be no
interruptions, how to choose someone who would not
be missed too quickly.
I knew he wasn't listening. His mind was very much
elsewhere. He walked along beside me, looking at
the pavement most of the time.
Suddenly, he stopped and looked distressed.
"What's on your mind, William?" I asked.
"I'm not going to last very long, am I?"
I chuckled. "Probably not. Our kind survives by
strength. And you aren't building much -- resisting
feeding and all."
He went all silent again, and I stopped trying to
lecture him. There wasn't much point. So, we just
walked.
We were passing through an alley when we came
across two extremely drunken young men and their
low-rent whore. Only the lowest of London's ladies
of the night will service clients in an alley. The girl, a
skinny, skanky thing with a pockmarked face and
greasy, stringy hair, was on her knees working on the
buttons on one of the drunks' trousers.
The men were unremarkable. By their dress, they
were young barristers or businessmen -- the sort who
have enough money to live well, but still have to
work for a living. The one about to have a blow job
was leaning back against the wall -- he was drunk
enough that he'd probably fall over otherwise. The
other was giggling and snickering as he made
disparaging comments about the girl's beauty and
virtue.
I smiled. This was the sort of meal I liked best. Not
too much trouble to kill, and enough alcohol in their
blood that I'd get a nice buzz on. One of them might
escape, but they wouldn't be bringing the police very
soon. The girl wouldn't go to the police in the first
place. The men were so inebriated they'd have
trouble explaining what was wrong.
I started toward them, but felt William's hand on my
sleeve.
"No. Not them," he said in a strange, horrified voice.
That wouldn't have stopped me. I knew about his
reservations, and his reservations were not about to
stand between me and a meal. But I glanced at him
and suddenly realized that it wasn't so much that I
was about to make a kill that was horrifying him --
he knew these two. I could see the recognition in his
eyes.
Well, that wasn't going to stop me either. I started
towards them.
"Matthew! Eugene!" William called out.
The two drunks looked over and saw me coming
toward them. I stopped, since William's warning
might turn this into a brawl.
"Who's there?" one of them called out.
The idiots stood there peering into the dark, trying to
see who had called out to them. If they'd run, they
might have survived.
"I know that voice. Who is it?"
William stepped out of the shadows and they saw
him.
"William? Is that you?" the one with the half-
unbuttoned trousers slurred. "What are you doing
here?"
"Perhaps I should take you home, Matthew," William
said.
"Like hell you will," I said crossly. He wasn't going
to rob me of my supper.
"Look, William has taken to associating with Irish
louts," Eugene said, coming toward me barely able to
stay on his feet.
"William has new friends," Matthew said. "He
doesn't like us anymore."
"Bloody good," Eugene said, dissolving into giggles.
"Maybe we won't have to listen to his poetry
anymore."
The whore was off her knees now and backing away.
The girls who worked the streets at night learned to
recognize our kind -- or they didn't last long. She
knew there was little chance she was going to be paid
tonight.
"Wait a minute," Matthew slurred. "We went to your
funeral. You were dead."
Eugene looked confused. "Did we? Would we have
gone to his funeral?"
"There was a lunch," Matthew replied. The two
drunks started to giggle again.
For that single moment, I felt sorry for William.
What a wretched life he must have had to see these
two as friends.
"Go home," William said firmly. "You don't know
what sort of trouble you're in."
"Trouble we're in?" Eugene said. "I can't wait to tell
Cecily I've seen you. That should ruin the bint's day."
"Why'd you do it?" Matthew said muzzily. "Debts?"
"Do what?"
"Fake your death. I think the authorities are going to
be interested to hear you're still walking around."
I started to laugh. "I think you've jumped to the
wrong conclusion, gentlemen. Not everyone who's
walking around is still alive."
"Get out of here," William said fiercely. "You don't
know what's going to happen..."
Matthew smirked. "Forget the authorities. I'm going
to tell your mo..."
He never finished the sentence. William hit him. It
wasn't a very good blow. William had more strength
than a human, but he had no idea about how to use it.
He struck out awkwardly. From the way he swung
that fist, I'm certain he'd never hit anyone before in
his life. But the young drunk was far from steady on
his feet and he fell backward to the pavement.
William stood over him glowering.
"Very good," I said, applauding briefly. "But really,
you need to swing so you put your weight behind it
and carry through. Here, watch me." I hit the other
young man with a blow that knocked him back ten
feet to fall and skid on the ground.
Matthew was gathering himself to scramble to his
feet.
"You bloody berk," he mumbled as he struggled to
get to his hands and knees. "I'll take you apart."
William bent down and hauled him up by the collar.
He copied my motion when he hit him the second
time. Matthew flew backward and hit the wall.
Matthew was out cold, but William looked almost as
stunned. He stared at his fist, not quite believing the
power he'd felt as he used it.
Eugene was starting to scramble to his feet so I went
over and put my foot on his back.
"Stay down, moron," I growled. "If you get up now,
I'll have to kill you."
William stood transfixed. He didn't seem to know
what to do next.
"You'd better finish him off," I said.
He knew he had to now. There was no going back.
William went over and picked up the limp body and
stood him up against the wall. He hit him eight or
nine more times, reducing the face that had been
Matthew's to a bloody pulp. The interesting thing
was, he wasn't in the grips of bloodlust. It was all
very deliberate. He was testing his strength --
experimenting with the effects of different ways of
swinging his fist.
But it was getting tedious. "William, for pity's sake,
just kill him. It's going to take all night that way."
William gave me a questioning look. It occurred to
me that he didn't know how.
"Put one hand on his chin and the other on the back
of his head. Give it a quick jerk," I explained.
William did as I said and Matthew's life ended.
William let the body fall to the ground.
Eugene had started to struggle beneath my foot.
"You want to do this one, or shall I?"
William came over and looked down at Eugene.
"I'll do it," he said, his voice so cold and dead that it
gave even me a chill.
I took my foot off Eugene's back and he start to
scramble away, terror overcoming his drunkenness.
"William," he pleaded, scrabbling along the ground
crabwise. "There's no need. I won't tell anyone I saw
you. Really. For God's sake, William... Please...
Don't..."
The smell of fear was palpable and it mingled with a
new odor as the poor sod soiled himself.
William picked him up and held him by the lapels.
He had his back to me, but he swung around so I
could see. He'd gone into demon face -- for the first
time since the night he rose. I saw what Eugene saw
last, yellow eyes, glittering fangs and wrinkled
forehead. William snarled then sank his teeth into
Eugene's neck.
That was it -- the moment when sweet William
finally became a vampire.
What pushed him over the edge? Hard to say really.
He killed the first one because the poor bastard was
about to say something about his mother, and
William didn't want me to hear it. The second one, he
killed because he'd crossed the line and there was no
going back.
But that was only part of it. I think that even before
he took that first swing with his fist, he realized he
couldn't hold onto his humanity and keep his promise
to Dru.
Isn't that a laugh? He became a ruthless, cold-
blooded killer for the sake of love. He learned to love
killing, to suck up death like a drug and live off it.
Now I have to look at him every night -- him and
Dru. They're bound together like Siamese twins. He
seldom leaves her side. I hate it when they put their
heads together and smirk at Darla and me.
I've never known the sort of love they share. My
thing with Darla is casual and inconstant. She's
betrayed me enough times and I her.
If I never saw her again after today, it would cause
me little pain.
But that's not how William and Drusilla are. They're
practically one being now. He lives to serve her, and
she lives through him. He's her sanity. He catches her
when she starts to fall and keeps her in the world.
Have I mentioned how much I hate him? And it's
more than that. He's taken something from me.
Oh, not Drusilla. I made her, but she was never really
mine. No, he took something more precious that the
crazy slut.
I was the master of all I knew. In my long unlife so
far, I'd never encountered anything I wasn't certain I
could overcome -- until William embraced the
demon inside him.
I'm stronger than he is -- I'm pretty sure. If we fight,
I'll win -- chances are. He's strong and ruthless, but
not a brute.
However there's something I see shining out of his
eyes at odd moments. Something that won't be
defeated no matter what it comes up against. I see
glimpses of that and it sends a chill down my spine. I
know that no matter how hard I fight him, he'll keep
getting up and coming at me again.
The only way to be certain he doesn't defeat me is to
never fight him. And that makes me feel like a
eunuch.
He explained part of Dru's crazy prophecy to me, you
know. He was standing there in the alley over the
drained body of his former so-called friend. He
looked up at me and smiled.
"Cronus and Uranus were Titans," he said. "They
came before the gods of Olympus. Uranus was the
son of Gaea, the Earth mother. He ruled the sky until
Cronus came and castrated him." William grinned
and showed me his teeth. "Then Cronus and Rhea
ruled in his place."