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The Tragic Tale of William the Bloody

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Summary: Anita Blake Fic-A-Thon for Dawnlady.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Anita Blake > Spike-CenteredStaciaFR1833,308045,1676 Sep 046 Sep 04Yes

The Tragic Tale of William the Bloody

Author: Stacia

Title: The Tragic Tale of William the Bloody

Rating: 18 for a bit of violence.

Disclaimer: Everything Buffy belongs to Joss and ME. Everything in the AB-verse belongs to LKH.

Anita Blake Fic-A-Thon for Dawnlady.

Max Rating: any

Type: Angst

Characters:Drusilla and spike or Oz

One Thing You Want To See: Fight between dru and a AB Vamp,

One Thing You Don't Want To See: Dru and Spike Pairing

A/N: Dawnlady, I think this fic should be sufficiently angsty for you, but I’m not sure if I fulfilled your no Spike/Dru pairing requirement. I may have blatantly flown in the face of that requirement, in fact. Um, oops. They’re not really together, and they definitely aren’t happy. I hope this is close enough. It just sort of evolved, and by the time I could see where it was headed, there wasn’t enough time to do something else.

A/N 2: The Prologue and Epilogue are in third person. The body of the fic is a letter, so it is first person from Spike’s POV. I hope you like my unusual take on Spike’s voice in this letter. He had some rare moments of insight and eloquence on the show. I see those moments, not as an aberration, but as a glimpse of part of his personality that is hidden beneath the swagger and machismo. I also happen to think that he would do far better expressing himself in prose, rather than poetry. I hope you don’t think he sounds out of character. Even if you do, I just wanted to say that the tone was deliberate, and not a mistake I made because I wasn’t paying attention to the character.

A/N 3: This all takes place before vamps become public knowledge in the AB-verse.

Drusilla’s eyes widened in surprise and a tiny delighted smile played at the corners of her mouth. She pressed her lips together and rubbed her hands like a child anticipating a treat. Her fingers reached out tentatively and skimmed the colored glass of the window.

“Oh, Spike! Look at the little dolly! She’s so small and alone.”

Spike lay on top of one of the stone coffins that resided in the mausoleum they had chosen as their daytime resting place. He opened one eye and cast a glance at his sire. The look was a mixture of love and exasperation.

“Dru, luv, come and get some sleep.”

She gave no indication that she had heard him. Instead, she tapped the window lightly with one fingernail, as if she were trying to coax a caged animal to show itself. Drusilla cocked her head to one side, so that she could look through a differently colored portion of the window.

“She looks much better in red.” Drusilla decided. “I see her all covered in blood. She goes drip, drip, drip, as she dances in the moonlight.” The vampire’s sinewy body swayed in perfect step with her words.

Spike went to the trouble of drawing air into his lungs so that he could sigh. He jumped off of his macabre bed and stood behind Drusilla. He wrapped his arms around her and peered over her shoulder to see what had so fascinated her. The tableau outside seemed totally ordinary. A small girl with dark hair sat on the ground in front of a headstone. A couple of adults spoke to each other about ten feet from the child.

“Are you talking about the girl, pet?”

“She’s going to be so mean. I want to play with her before she learns how to kill me.”

Drusilla whirled around in a slow circle. She grabbed Spike’s hand and ineffectually tried to pull him toward the door. He didn’t budge. The insane vampire giggled and stroked Spike’s hand in what she thought was a reassuring gesture.

“She can’t hurt us now. She’s so tiny, and they left her alone.” Drusilla whined, “Mmmmmmm. Threw her away like she was broken, but the stupid daddy and new mummy couldn’t see that she wasn’t broken until they threw her away.”

Spike tried to decipher his lover’s last pronouncement before giving up and concentrating on keeping her inside.

“Dru, whatever they did to her, you can’t go out there. She’s not alone, and besides,” He pointed out the window, “It’s day.”

She reached out and swept her hand through the beam of light filtering in through the window. “But it doesn’t burn.”

“No, it doesn’t, the colored glass in the window doesn’t let enough light in, but if you go outside it will hurt.”

Drusilla let go of his hand, backed up a step, and pouted. She looked at the door and then back at the window. She snuck a surreptitious glance at him and took another step toward the door. Spike assumed what he hoped was a stern expression.

“Drusilla, you are not going outside. If you try, I’ll have to give you a spanking.”

Her eyes opened wide and she acquired a delighted grin. She took one more step toward the door. Spike grabbed her, landed a light slap on her bottom, and gathered her in his arms. She moaned quietly and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Luv, please wait a few hours. Then we’ll go find your dolly together.” She didn’t say anything but he felt her nod. He picked her up, and carried her like a baby over to the stone coffin. He stretched out beside her and let her pillow her head on his chest. They slept.
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