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Waking with a start, Drusilla moaned, her heart breaking from the images of her dream. A long, drawn-out 'no' burbled from her lips, as she curled into a ball, sobbing. Her fears had become reality.
Angel stood in the doorway watching her sob, guessing the reason for her grief. A part of him wanted to go comfort her, another part of him--the buried part--wanted to go claim her, but he resisted the urges.
It was part of his penance that he care for his insane daughter, as she no longer had anyone to care for her, but he avoided her as much as possible, knowing too well her powers of mesmerism and seduction.
Suddenly, Drusilla flung herself from the bed and towards the door, running into her sire. "I'll kill him," she screamed shrilly, struggling to get past Angel. "Kill them both, make them suffer, make them pay."
Catching her upper arms, Angel forced her backwards and shook her hard. "Drusilla, calm down," he ordered firmly.
Her demon emerged, snarling as she twisted in Angel's grip. "He's mine," she hissed, spitting fury.
Angel shook her hard. "Dru."
Slowly, she calmed, her demon retreating, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. Sagging forward, she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Oh, Angel, he doesn't love me anymore."
Angel's touch gentled and he patted her shoulders. "It will be okay."
"Oh, I know it will," she replied and sank her fangs into his throat.
"Dru," he yelled, trying to free himself from her strong embrace, as she drank hungrily. They sank to their knees and toppled into the room, Drusilla sprawled on top of her sire. His struggles weakened and finally ceased. Lifting her head, she gave him an evil smile. He was barely conscious, barely able to whisper, "Dru..."
"You can't stop me," she hissed back, bounding to her feet and over to her closet. Dressing quickly, she returned to where Angel lay, his eyes closed, his body nearly leeched of blood, shrunken and white. Bending down, she dug the keys out of his jeans' pocket and fled the building.
*****
Drusilla arrived in Sunnydale in record time, driving like a bat out of Hell...or more precisely, like a woman scorned and on the trail of revenge. Attuned to an inner radar, she quickly found the location of her enemy. Parking the car, she ran through the lot and into the building.
Once inside she could smell him, that unique odor that was her Spike. Drusilla scowled at the other scents that nearly masked him--rich, earthy scents, wild fruits and exotic musks--as she followed her nose up the stairs and down a long hall.
Stopping at a door with a white drawing board attached, she looked at the dangling marker, then picked it up and drew a picture of a woman, her guts hanging out, a pile of dust next to her. Dropping the pen, Drusilla gripped the door knob and pushed.
The lock broke and the door flew open. The occupants of the bed in the candle lit room sprang apart, cursing.
"Oh...fuck."
"What is it, Spike? Who the Hell are you? Get out of my room," the woman cried, dragging a blanket over her nudity.
"Pet, I can explain," Spike tried, holding out his hands in supplication towards Drusilla.
Righteous fury filling her, Drusilla stormed across the small room, grabbed Spike by his private parts and flung him howling across the room. He collapsed against the far fall, clutching himself and moaning.
The woman gasped and tried to scramble from the bed, but Drusilla shoved her down, her hand around her throat.
"You dared to touch him, you, a puny, insignificant human," Drusilla said, her voice soft yet deadly. "You have soiled him with your sweat and saliva and female juices."
"Drusilla, leave her alone, please," Spike gasped, trying to rise to his knees.
Drusilla's fingers tightened and the woman grabbed futilely at the hand, trying to pry it away as she thrashed on the bed.
"Bye bye." The fingers dug in, the long sharp nails cutting through the flesh like butter, severing the veins. The woman made one gurgling sound and died, her blood spilling onto the bed from the large holes in her throat.
"Drusilla, no," Spike begged.
Licking her bloody fingers, Drusilla turned to her errant lover. He was on his knees, tears leaking from his stricken eyes. She pursed her lips and scowled at him. "Tit for tat, Spike. I strayed and you punished me by killing my lover. Now, I have done the same to you. We are meant only for each other...and for daddy, of course."
"Bitch." But, his cry was weak and empty.
"Yes. But, your eternal bitch, unlike this sow." Her eyes flashed angrily at him as he struggled to his feet. "Get your clothes on and meet me at the car. Your punishment isn't over."
"You really think I'll come with you after you killed..." His voice trailed off as he choked on a sob. "Emily..."
Drusilla's hand cracked across his cheek, knocking him back against the wall. "I will have my demon lover back, Spike, even if I have to kill every human the disgustingly weak side of you feels the need to touch."
For a second, Spike's demon was freed, but then sorrow overwhelmed him, driving it back down. Slowly he sank to his knees, still crying. "If you'd come with me when I asked, come back here...If you hadn't left me alone..."
"Do you think I want to hear your excuses? You got yourself into this predicament and I refuse to live in this horrible town. From now on, if you feel the need for...pleasures of the flesh, you shall make do on your own or come to me in the city of angels, do you understand me?" Drusilla ordered, furious with the weak, human-like demon at her feet.
"...Yes," Spike whispered, his voice dull and lost.
"Get dressed." Turning, Drusilla left the room as quickly as she had come, leaving the broken male to dress and follow. Never once did he look at the corpse of his lover, unable to bear her lifeless eyes accusing him.
Drusilla was right. He should never have touched Emily. In allowing himself to belong even for a moment to another woman, he'd brought her only a hideous death.
In shock, heartbroken and lost, he followed his unforgiving goddess out of the room.
End