RATING: PG
SETTING: A series of childhood memories, linking the Scooby gang together
for far longer than they ever expected.
DISCLAIMER: All characters are copyright Joss Whedon. May he forgive me for
the many sins I commit in their names.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For Tracy - Because she's our favorite other Goddess. And
for the Willfic list, Willow's in here, you just sometimes have to look for
her. And the series doesn't make much sense without all the parts.
by: Laura Smith and Amy
They talked about her behind her back, as though she couldn't hear the cruel taunts singing inside her head. They said she was touched. They said she was Satan's child. They said she was evil.
She wasn't evil. She could feel the goodness in her heart, dancing with the love of all things true and holy. She prayed every night, she read her Bible, just like her Mum told her to do. She always did as she was told.
But the visions came. At first they were just dreams that she sometimes remembered. But she'd only remember them after something had happened that made her recall the vivid imagery that had filled her mind's eye. Once, when her cousin was trampled by his horse, she stared at the wild animal forcing his bloody body against the ground with its hooves and she'd laughed and laughed. For it had already happened in her dreams and she'd tried to warn him.
The laughter had dissolved into tears, however, when her family had looked at her in horror and surprise. "Horrid child," she heard come from the gathered masses as they backed away from her.
She never told anyone about the dreams or the visions. She realized they were visions when the first one came during the day. She saw a man with dark eyes of molten desire, his face predatory and fierce. But she wasn't afraid. Something in him called to her and made her think of spinning through the stars in his arms.
"Drusilla?"
She blinked rapidly, turning her attention back to her tutor. She was a lovely woman with dark red hair all caught up in a bun. "Sorry, Ma'am."
She knelt before the small desk and stroked the dark hair back. "Dru, you have to study. You mustn't daydream. Your mother already worries at the time you spend playing with your dolls. She feels you should be ready to become a lady."
"I'll be a lady, Willa. I promise. But I can't help the dreams when they come. I don’t ask for them."
"I know, sweet. But be careful. Your parents are having troubles with some of the town people. They say they've sired a witch, and I don't want to see anything happen to you."
"They say I'm from the devil, Willa. Do you think it's true? I try to be good."
"I think you're wonderful, and not of the devil at all, except perhaps when you get into mischief with your cousins Alex and Wilhelm." She laughed softly. "Although I think they're far more devilish than you."
Drusilla slipped out of her chair and hugged her tutor tightly. At least until the vision started. A young, beautiful redhead, next to a blond young man. She has tears in her eyes and she's scared of him. He's threatening her, needing something he's loved and lost. Needing her to find it. And her love is lying nearby dying.
Moving back, she stared into Willa's face. The older girl looked at her concerned, wondering what had caused the young girls heart to start beating so quickly. "You want my Spike."
"Drusilla?"
She screamed and began clawing at Willa's face, scratching long streaks down the creamy complexion. Blood dripped from the shredded face of the woman she'd always considered her friend. "You mustn't take him. He belongs to me!"
Willa scrambled backwards, her feet tangling in her skirt as she tried to get away from the child. "Drusilla!" She kicked out with her foot, sending the younger girl flying back against the wall. They each lay there, staring at each other. Both of their eyes tinged with fear and understanding, although of a different sort.
"Redheaded witch!" Drusilla screamed, running toward her tutor.
Strong arms caught her around the waist and carried her to the large glass doors that lined the room. "Drusilla!"
Her body stilled at the sound of her father's voice, and she hung limply from his arms. "Yes, Papa?"
"Go outside."
She watched as her brother and aunt rushed in and gathered the redheaded witch into their arms. Willa's eyes met hers and she seemed frightened, which gave Drusilla a magnificent rush of power. "I'll have you for breakfast someday."
"Drusilla. Now!" Her father deposited her outside the doors and shut them firmly behind her. She wandered through the garden until she reached the small playhouse her father had built for her last birthday. She'd insisted that, at the age of six, she needed a house of her own.
Slipping inside, she surveyed the room, making sure nothing had been tampered with. Her brother and cousins loved to come in here and place all sorts of horrors such as spiders and snakes in her sanctuary. Looking around, she noticed one thing out of place.
"You're not where you belong."
"I have to leave tonight."
She stared up at the man from her daydream, losing herself in his eyes. They were dark as the night, reflecting her trusting, upturned face. "You said you'd stay and be my daddy. You said you'd stay here in my playground." She felt the tears and grew angry. "You promised!"
"Drusilla," his soft Irish lilt soothed her. "I'll be your daddy. But for now, I have other things to do. I have to prepare the rest of the world for you, love. Don't you want for me to give you a bigger place to play?"
She nodded, sitting across from him at the small table. She picked up the teapot and poured for her dolls. She didn't mind the thick, red liquid that spilled forth or the soft growl that issued forth from her guest. "Will I have brothers and sisters?"
"Not exactly."
"Will Miss Edith come with me?" She gathered one of her dolls onto her lap and tilted the cup for her. Blood ran down her porcelain face, staining the pristine white dress she wore.
"You know better," he admonished, taking the cup from her. He moved into Miss Edith's vacant seat and took the doll from her.
"Show me again? Show me how you'll love me when you're my daddy?"
He raised the doll, his face morphing, licking the blood off the smooth surface. Drusilla squealed with delight as he finished, tossing the doll to the side and lifting Drusilla herself onto his lap. "When you're mine," he whispered his breath coppery with the scent of blood, "I'll drink from your lips and your neck and you'll drink from mine."
"Will you love me? Even my insides?"
"I'll love you inside and out, my sweet Drusilla." He set her down and ran a hand through her hair. "But you'll have to be good and wait for me to return."
"Will you go away for a long time?"
"Until you're ready for me."
"When will that be?"
"You'll know." He guided her to the door, knowing that the sun would soon set and he would have to join William in the hunt. "And you'll be ready."
"What will you do?"
"Ready the world for you."
"Will you?"
He nodded, kissed her soft hair and pushed her toward the door. "It will be at your feet, ready to be anything you wish it to be."
She laughed delightedly and ran from the playhouse, almost as though she were a normal child. She spun in a circle until she grew dizzy and fell to the ground. Looking up at the sky, she hugged herself tightly and dreamed of having the world be her own personal playground.