The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer
do not belong to me. Summary:
The stars are singing for Drusilla again. Just what is her destiny? She finds it – and more – in an alley in East London. Author's Note:
This story takes place in the post-Buffy/Angel
worlds. All is canon. In other words, if it happened in the series, it is in the past. Chapter One – My Destiny From the Journal of Miss Drusilla Aurelius, Most Favored Childe of Angelus
The stars had been singing for this night for weeks. The dreams were getting more and more intense, and the voices in my head had been screaming. For blood, for death, and, most of all, for fear. I felt the nervous anticipation as if I was getting a present. I was finding it very hard to be patient. Very, very hard. I wanted to tell someone what was coming. But there was no one to tell. Daddy and Spike were on the side of the Slayer now. It was just me and Miss Edith. And Miss Edith could not be trusted to keep it to herself.
That night, I knew, was the night I had been waiting for. The night my voices and Miss Edith screamed against. I knew I could not trust Miss Edith, that she could stop my destiny. So, I stopped hers. I thought that it would be harder to do, I really did. She'd been with me for so long. Now that I look back, it was never a good relationship. She was always saying bad things to me, demanding her tea, it made things so much easier in the end.
That's why when I prepared to hunt, I was thrilled to feel the stars' songs vibrating my skin. It felt as if centipedes were crawling all over my head and down my spine. I shuddered in delight. As I left my East London flat, I looked one way and the other. I finally looked up to my eternal companions – the stars, my singing stars – for advice. Moonlight shone over the river, dancing a lively quadrille. The stars seemed to be telling me to go to the river. I giggled and lifted my skirts, skipping my way there. It was a beautiful night. A night for magic.
Why am I writing all this down? Well, you might ask. I knew when I started this journal that I must be very religious about recording all for the future. And, so, even if these events occurred well before the call of destiny, they were central to everything that happened afterwards. Angel and Wes agreed with me. And, since no one will probably read these journals until well after I collapse into dust and am borne by the wind, I will do what I think is right.
Wes suggested that I might introduce myself at some point in the start of my journal. I felt this was silly. It wasn't like they
didn't know who I was. It wasn't like I didn't have nearly as infamous a reputation as my Sire. However, Wes' advice is so thorough that I fear to ignore it.
My name is Drusilla. I have long since given up the name I was born to. She is dead long ago. I have since taken the name of the Order my illustrious (and, according to Daddy, smelly) great-grand-daddy founded in the Twelfth Century. I was born in the Nineteenth Century to a loving family in London, England. In 1860, the great vampire, Angelus, decided to bless me with his attentions. Such fear, I felt that year... those months that he tormented me. He was barely a century at the time and he was already overshadowing Grandmummy in terms of evil and torment. Perhaps that is why he was selected to become a Champion, I don't know. I do know that both he and I were destined for this life we lead.
That year, he hunted down and killed my entire family. I tried to escape to a convent. The holy land would protect me, I was sure. That was one of many beliefs that would be shattered along with my mind that day. He had such appetites. I know I was terrified and horrified, but even then – in my feeble mortality – I recognized the power and savagery as something elegant and beautiful. Even today, when I look at my dearest Daddy, I can see and be thrilled by the savagery just under the surface. If you are very, very careful, you can hear the demon singing underneath. I wonder if Buffy ever heard it? She had always seemed very aware for a human. It still hurts and enrages me to see what she has done to my Daddy.
I lived with my Grandmummy and my Daddy for twenty years, when I realized I wanted someone for my very own. I whined and whined until Daddy said I could. They tried to tell me what kind of mortal I should take. But, I was ever a willful child. So, I turned the poor, pathetic poet. William. Later William the Bloody. Even later, Spike. But at this time he was my darling, deadly boy. We lived and loved together for another century. Until. Until our lives came together and apart all at once. Was it just an accident of fate that all of us were in Sunnydale at the same time as the new Slayer? I don't think so. With a whole expanse of creation to feed upon, we ended up in that little hamlet of hell. I think not.
But I have missed the great schism of our family. The day I lost my Daddy to his soul. Grandmummy had given him a gypsy girl for his birthday. Daddy always did like hurting the innocent. I'm sure he loved his present. Until he discovered the price he would have to pay. The irony is delicious. Daddy's weakness for the skirts caused him to lose his mortality, and then later to end his reign of terror on humanity. I always have enjoyed irony. That is why what eventually happened to me was all the more delicious.
The girl's people, her Gypsy clan, cursed Daddy and restored his soul. Ah, the torment and agonies he must have suffered. I had always thought that the soul made him weaker. What I never considered just how painful it was. Is this what they mean when they talk in the Bible about the torment Christ suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane? If he suffered for all men, then it must've been all the pain Daddy suffered increased manifold. We lost our Daddy for good that day. He did try to come back in 1900 in China, but grandmummy chased him away. It was terrible and heart breaking for a long time. Finally, Spike took me away from grandmummy. Without Daddy there, Grandmummy would've killed us eventually.
This time away was good for Spike. He used this time to reinvent himself. To remove himself from the very large shadow of his grandsire. We were happy. Very happy. But, all things come to an end, and many things (and people) come to an end in Sunnydale. Many things happened after Sunnydale. But I will not record them here. I only refer you to the diaries of the Watchers, Rupert Giles and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, and the Slayer, Buffy Summers. Their record shall stand for mine. Suffice it to say, as Charles Dickens once wrote, “they were the best of times, they were the worst of times.”
Let me return to the night of my awakening. My becoming. My calling. It was a lovely spring day in East London. I had just returned from the London Eye. I loved to go up there on clear nights. It always reminded me of my family. Grandmummy would have loved it. She always did like a view.
I had eaten a lovely little honeymooning couple for my dinner. I left them stuffed under the seats to be discovered later. I was on my way through the streets heading back to my flat. I was looking for something interesting. I knew whatever happened tonight, it would find me. I would just have to be ready for it. I was walking through Whitechapel when I first felt my destiny calling out to me, like a mother calling to its babes. I loved Whitechapel. I felt so connected to history here, just knowing what lovely deadly things Saucy Jack had perpetrated there. Sometimes I could still smell the blood, the entrails, and the fear of those unlucky enough to cross his path.
I had been walking for some time when I began to be aware of the presence of a Slayer. I stopped suddenly to scent the air. I didn't want to antagonize the Slayer. It might delay me from my destiny. I then had a disturbing thought. What if the Slayer herself was my destiny? This did not sit well with me. I mulled this over for some few minutes. The voices within me became louder and louder. This decided me. I have realized over the last few years that many times these voices – my voices – have been trying to manipulate me away from my true course.
Thus, I decided to carefully approach this unknown Slayer. She didn't feel like any Slayer I had ever encountered before. This one had the feel of an animal about her. In my search, I began to hear the muffled sounds of rustling and the sickly sweet smell of garbage being disturbed. I turned the corner and there she was. It was very confusing. I had never seen a Slayer reduced to such behavior. She looked to be about sixteen years of age, she was scruffily dressed and smelled as if she had not bathed in some weeks. Her hair was tangled and resembled a rat's nest. She was digging through the garbage and stuffing things into her mouth every so often. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, and looked around for her Watcher. There was none to be seen, heard, or smelt. What had happened to this girl? Why? Why had she been reduced to this level. Why would a Slayer have to do this? Her Watcher should be making sure she was fed. Maybe the Watcher had died?
I continued to watch her in silence. Now the voices changed. They still screamed at me to flee, but many were also clamoring for this new Slayer's blood. They were very, very hungry for her blood. I resolved to ignore them. There were more important things to be discovered. Destiny called out to me and I was determined to be there to meet her. I stood quietly as I watched the Slayer go from dumpster to dumpster. The next one was taller than she was. The girl jumped catlike onto the edge of the dumpster. She crouched on lip of the lid and started pawing the inside. I frowned and decided to make a move. I moved nearly silent, as the night predator I was. However, something alerted the Slayer to my presence.
Her head spun around quickly and she cocked her head as a cat might do as she looked at me. I was fascinated. Her eyes were unlike any I had ever seen on a human or Slayer. She pivoted on her feet so that she was facing me. I held her gaze, not moving. It, in a way, was like looking in a mirror. She was quite, quite mad. How delicious, I nearly screamed. I was sure that this was it. I had found my destiny. In a Slayer, of all people! Of course, it made sense in a weird, sick, perverted way. Both Daddy and Spike met their fates due to a Slayer. So had I, it seemed.
I decided to hold my place. I really didn't want to fight her. However, the voices did. Oh, yes, they were screaming and screaming for her blood. If Miss Edith had been there, I'm sure she would have advised the same. But I didn't. I felt a connection with this girl... she was my destiny, I was sure. But I wasn't sure if I was ready, I really wasn't. You may be surprised by this. After all I had done to prepare for it, however I was very, very nervous.
I wasn't the only nervous one in the alley. The girls eyes showed that she was a bundle of nerves. You could see the apprehension in them, not really fear. No, she didn't seem to fear me. And she knew what I was, just as I knew what she was. I concentrated on making a connection with her. I looked into her eyes and was stunned by what I found there.
There was such pain in her past. It was all at once stunning and horrifying... delicious... and very, very familiar. Her family had been killed... slaughtered. And she had seen it all. I smiled at her. I knew exactly what that was. But she had been lucky – in a way. Her family had been slaughtered all at once... and, like me, before her very eyes. Mine had died slowly, one at a time. Little by little, Daddy had tormented me with their deaths. Bad Daddy. I looked deeper. Like me, she had also been tortured. Tortured into lunacy. It was so exciting, I could hardly stop myself from dancing. She was like a little sister... or a daughter. Her torturer was gone. Mine still existed, though filled with shame from the act. I was so very thrilled... this was what I was meant for. I was filled with wonder, joy – and, to my shock, compassion. A very unfamiliar emotion. It thrilled and terrified me. I shouldn't be feeling it. I hadn't felt like this since my death nearly 150 years ago.
I was so swept up in these feelings, I nearly missed it when the connection was broken violently. I was so shocked that she could break this connection, that I nearly was taken as she pounced from atop the dumpster.
I leapt backwards more to get away from the overpowering smell of the garbage that she reeked, than to get away from her arms and legs as they flung out to attack me. Luckily, I noticed that she did not have a stake or any wood in her hands. Not that she was any less dangerous. However, it did comfort me that she didn't seem to have any of the standard weapons that a Slayer usually carried. Or the Watcher to advise her. And, especially, not the friends that Buffy had always had accompanying her – destroying centuries of traditional lone Slayers.
As I watched, circling this new, mad Slayer, part of my mind judged her as an opponent. She didn't seem to speak at all... Buffy always seemed to be making rude comments whenever she fought. I realized that I liked my Slayers silent. Buffy always seemed so crude and vulgar. This new one moved more like an animal. She had not had a normal upbringing. No family, no Watcher, no friends. My brief time in her shattered mind had shown me that. I was in the very unfortunate position of not wanting to do her any harm. That really made fighting difficult. I had never even considered it before.
I could not keep this up for long. She would eventually get to me. Not because I wasn't a good fighter. But I was not at my best. It didn't take me long to realize that I had brought something back with me from her shattered mind. I wasn't sure what it was but the voices hated it! They screamed as if they were fighting for their very lives. As I tried to make sense of what was happening inside me, the Slayer took the lead and started threatening my outside. I had to win! I had to! I had to win both fights. I had to grasp the brass ring of destiny. And to do that I had to survive.
I tried unsuccessfully to stay out of the girl's reach as I focused on the pain erupting from within. All of the voices in my head were screaming in outrage and despair. I could feel hit upon hit being landed on my body by the feral Slayer. It all paled in comparison to what was happening inside me. The voices were bad enough, but then I began to feel the heat building at my very center. It was as if hundreds upon hundreds of wasps were stinging me at my heart. It built and built and built until I could no longer stand.
The voices were getting louder and louder. There were new voices too. They were laughing and singing. Their cries were starting to overwhelm the screaming voices. It was becoming too much. I gave up trying to fight the Slayer. I didn't know what was happening. But I realized when I heard the new voices singing that they were my destiny. I still believed that the girl who was trying to kill me was also part of my destiny – but the voices were the true destiny.
I grabbed at my head and spun around and around, screaming from the sheer agony. I felt as if I were being burned and shredded all at once. I could no longer see, or even feel, the Slayer. Nothing was real anymore. All was pain and pain was all. The whole word had turned upside down and inside out. All I could feel was the burning and all I could hear were the voices within, tearing me apart. The last real thought I had before I collapsed was my family. Daddy. Grandmummy. My darling, deadly boy. Surely they could help. I couldn't die – not now – not after I had finally found my destiny. It was all so very unfair. No more tea for Princess.
I lay on the cold ground, whimpering in fear and pain. I was vaguely aware of the Slayer's interest. She had stopped attacking when I fell. One saving grace. But dawn was soon, and then it would all be over. I would die alone and afraid. Tears filled my eyes at the thought. I couldn't bear that. That was the worst of it all. I could almost feel it when she knelt next to me and put her hand on my face. My eyes were clenched shut at the pain. The burning was getting worse and worse. Why hadn't I just burst into flames yet? I had always liked fire. It was always so pretty. Except when it was you doing the burning. I remember the mob in Prague, the fire at the warehouse in Sunnydale, Daddy lighting me and Grandmummy on fire. Fire had always seemed to be part of my life. Now, when I wished for it most, it wouldn't come. Life – or unlife – could be so unfair sometimes.
I flinched in response at the first touch of her fingers on my eyelids. She forced one lid up and then the other. I was startled to see tears in her eyes as well as my own. I imagined that I could see my reflection in her eyes. What would I look like after all these years? I have always wondered that. Do Daddy and Spike wonder about that? I tried again to reach my Daddy and Spike and even Grandmummy. I could hear nothing but the voices. I tried to look away from the girl. Too late. Oh, dear. After all the times, I had gotten into some one else's head... how embarassing.
As our minds touched, I could hear the voices in her head too. It was very peculiar. They were screaming for my death as much as my first voices screamed for the death of her. It was all very hard hearing all those voices. It was like a dreadful opera. All those voices screaming at once. I could see in her eyes that she could hear mine as well. As I looked into her strange eyes, I could feel my world slowing down. Things were righting themselves again. I could feel that her world was changing as well. The voices in her head, though, were screaming for my death. Murderer! Vampire! Abomination! Must be destroyed! Kill it!
I fought to maintain the connection against my own voices' sentiments. I felt, somehow, that the only way for both of us to survive would be for the voices to confront one another. I tried somehow to make her understand.
After a while, she was the one to break the connection. I was disappointed at the time. But that was over in a flash when I realized just how close the dawn was. I still had not the strength to do anything. In fact, I didn't even want to. I could feel such despair building where the burning had been previously. Despair and another sensation – was it guilt? Remorse? Whatever it was... it had its own voice, and that voice demanded my death as well. I clenched my eyes shut, praying that the fire would do its work quickly.
I nearly died of fright when I heard the scraping of metal against asphalt. What was that? I then felt the Slayer's strong arms grasp me from underneath. She began to drag me to where I heard the sound. I could hear her humming something. What was it? Daisy Bell!
She was humming the music from Daisy Bell
! How wonderful I thought. I tried to open my mouth to sing the words when my world opened up from underneath me. Literally. She had dropped me into the sewer. Then she was gone. I was alone with my voices, my memories, and a song stuck in my mind nearly as old as I was. I started giggling and thought how wonderful life was. I cocked my head painfully to listen for the girl. I heard her whimper as she replaced the cover to the manhole I had fallen through. The last thing I heard from her as she crept away into the coming dawn was the sounds of Daisy Bell.