Title: The Story of a Broken Heart.
Author: Pagan Pylea Princess
Characters: Spike, Drusilla, Angelus, Darla, Angel
Summary: The circumstances of Spike’s rising, and his first kill.
Disclaimer: Wish I was in the Buffyverse. But I’m not, so I have to tell you these characters aren’t mine.
Feedback: Oh, you lovely people, yes please!
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The darkness out in these woods was un-matchable. The stars could only just be seen through the trees. The low moon was trying to hide itself within the foliage, so it couldn’t see what was taking place. But Angelus could see well enough.
It had been well over five hours since they had left the bustling streets of London and made their way into the forests’ dark embrace. Not a single citizen had known what they had done, or what they had been about to do. They had carried on with their daily lives and walked by them, unaware of what had taken place.
**
When Angelus found Drusilla, she was sat in the corner of the barn cooing delightfully. He approached her with caution. She had a tendency to let her wild dreams spill out into her conscious and had been known to attack even him.
He looked down on her, marvelling at her beauty. He had known the moment he had seen her that she would be his greatest creation, and now he looked upon her with pride and adoration.
She looked up into his eyes and a chill had run down his spine. They gleamed with joy, and he knew in that instant that she had fed. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth down her chin. Her face, still that of a demon, looked up at him in glee.
“I have become a mother, Angelus.” She cooed.
At that moment, he had looked down and noticed the young man cradled in her arms, and the rivulets of blood at his throat.
He scowled at Drusilla and she whimpered. “Do not be cross, Daddy. It was all quiet for me. No fun for me.” She returned to human face and pouted.
“How marvellous!” Darla said merrily. Angelus smiled a little at Darla’s outburst. He knew she could smell the blood and feel the power within that barn. She came from behind him and linked an arm through his, moving her body closer to him. She had only just fed herself, and she was warm. He smiled again.
Angelus took another look at Drusilla’s chosen victim and frowned with disgust.
“You just picked him off the street?” He said, in his Irish lilt.
Drusilla looked far away, as she always was, “oh no, Angelus. I have searched for my William a long, long time.” She nodded in reassurance then looked down at her wounded companion, “now I’ve found him.” She stroked his cheek with a gloved hand.
“Pft” Angelus sounded, unimpressed.
Darla smacked him gently on the chest with her fan. “Angelus. If this is who Drusilla has picked for her playmate, who are we to judge?”
He looked down at his companion, “cause we’re the ones who have to go around with him for eternity.”
Darla rolled her eyes. “This is it? Jealousy?” She slipped out of Angelus’ embrace, raising a wry eyebrow, and came to kneel beside Drusilla.
“Come, we must truly welcome him to our family.”
Drusilla nodded, and Darla helped her gather the man up.
Angelus breathed out heavily in an anguished sigh, “we’re not gonna waste the family ritual on him now, are we?”
Darla looked up at him. “Why, of course we are Angelus,” she chided.
He rolled his eyes and took him from the ladies, slinging him over his shoulder.
“Ooooh!!” Drusilla sighed, clapping her hands together in excitement.
“Hey, I’m only doin this for you, Dru.” He muttered, but Darla knew that really he would be happy for Dru to have her own little companion.
She took her granddaughters hand and they followed behind. No one paid them much attention, which disappointed Darla a little. She would have thought there would have at least been a minor struggle.
When they reached the edge of the woods, the girls overtook, leading their strange convoy through the trees.
“Here will do.”
They’d found a hidden opening in the trees, enough space to bury a man, yet hidden enough so that onlookers could not see them. Not that that mattered. Angelus would have just killed them anyway. He dropped the body – this William – to the ground rather roughly. Darla chided that he was to welcome the man, to which Angelus merely huffed at. He didn’t want to have to share his female companions with this loser.
Drusilla had left to venture into the town, whilst Angelus had begun the hard task of digging a grave with a spade he had taken from the barn.
Nice and deep. He thought with a giggle. See if this guy can really hack it.
He may have to pretend to show hospitality, but Darla would never have to know that he would make it extra hard for the guy.
Drusilla returned swiftly, dragging a large wooden coffin behind her, fresh blood on her lips.
“Dru, we don’t need a coffin, now do we love?” Angelus spoke.
“I talked to a man there. Very nice he was.” She wiped the blood from her face with a finger and licked it up like a cat, “after I’d slit his throat of course.”
“She’s a classicist. Leave her be.” Darla sighed, applying her make up with a small compact mirror. He turned to her and smiled. He remembered stealing that for her from a rich woman’s purse. They had come across the couple in their horse-drawn coach and they had been a fine treat.
Drusilla had laid William out in the coffin. She began singing quietly to him, songs Angelus had never heard before, yet he knew Dru often made a lot of stuff up anyway.
“Dru.” He pushed her away lightly and looked down on the man – William.
He grinned maliciously and spoke under his breath. “May God have mercy upon your soul lad.”
With that, he took the heavy lid in both hands and slammed it on top, making sure it was nice and tight. Drusilla touched the top of the coffin gently “sweet dreams my William.” Then she began to giggle insanely as Angelus lowered the coffin into the grave and began to shovel soil back on top of it.
It was five hours before anything had begun to happen. Angelus had waited, painfully still and bored out of his mind. He wanted to suggest to Darla that the two of them go into the town whilst Dru waited with the coffin. But she would have refused. She loved to watch them rise, newborn vampires clambering from the grave. It fascinated her. She used to say, “every time one rises, the race grows and outnumbers the humans.” Something she got from the Master no doubt.
Both women had their eyes fixated on the newly dug grave. Drusilla sat intently beside the mound of earth, waiting patiently, humming gently.
Angelus thought he would die of boredom, when all of a sudden, a tiny noise could be heard, Barely audible yet just loud enough for them to catch it.
A gasp.
Darla’s eyes gleamed with bloodlust; Drusilla stood and clapped her hands gently.
A little more silence, and then Angelus himself began to grin when he heard the scrabbling. It sounded like rats, gnawing on wood, yet Angelus knew it was fingernails, scratching frantically.
There was a loud bang, and Drusilla jumped back a little. Angelus saw the soil in the centre of the mound begin to sink down, and knew that William had smashed the coffin.
There was an unbearable minute, which felt like eternity. There seemed to be no struggle for escape.
Angelus frowned and sighed. He guessed the guy didn’t have what it takes after all.
Suddenly, a fist burst through the ground. Drusilla let out a gasp of delight and then giggled insanely as the hand wriggled around wildly for a moment. Then it pressed down into the ground, William using it to pull himself through the dirt. Another hand rose above the soil, then a head began to appear.
Finally, Angelus saw the vampiric face of Drusilla’s victim appear. Frightened and shaking, he clambered out and looked up toward the three people standing over his grave with grins on their faces. He scrambled backwards away from Darla who had now knelt nearby.
“W-w-hat?”
His voice was croaky and hoarse.
“Jolly good, he’s risen, now can we please go eat?” Angelus asked impatiently.
Dru wagged a finger at him and approached William.
“You have become one of us sweet Willy.” She hummed. He stared at her blankly, an expression that Angelus had always thought looked funny on a vampire’s countenance.
“Yes, a creature of the night. A vampire.” Darla added, moving toward Angelus and slipping close to him.
“A-a-vampire?”
He moved a hand up and touched his face; he felt his lumpy forehead, his elongated teeth.
And grinned.
“A vampire.” He said with more certainty.
Angelus remembered how strange he thought it all was, that William had adjusted so quickly to the thought of being a vampire. He knew that Dru had found him sad and depressed, and Angelus guessed that he welcomed the change.
With that, Drusilla had taken him by the hand, and the four had made their way into the town, William still a little shaky and disoriented. It was rather like leading a foreigner through their home territory.
He remembered that before William and Drusilla had made their way alone to his own house, they had all had their own little massacre, to welcome him properly. Every family welcomes a new member with a meal of some kind.
Darla smiled as they neared a house on the edge of town. A petite little house, nothing different about it. But he knew Darla could smell the intoxicating smell of the people inside. A large family for that time, the parents were good people and their three children slept in beds upstairs, blissfully.
Angelus loved Do-gooders.
He remembered pinning the female viciously, grabbing her around the torso, pinning her arms to her body, whilst the husband watched on helplessly. He remembered handing the morsel to the newborn member of their family.
William took the girl; at first a little afraid of what he had to do.
Angelus smiled at the cruelty the man showed.
Sinking his fangs into the woman’s throat, William revelled in the screaming. Being only new, he made quite a mess; Angelus had learned to save every drop.
He would learn.
William threw the woman to the ground and grinned at Angelus, blood around his mouth, yet grinning all the same.
“I could get used to this”
Both grinned, but were suddenly aware that the husband was whimpering annoyingly, repeating “please spare me, please spare me” over and over.
Both rolled their eyes and sighed.
“How annoying.” Angelus had spoken as if put out, moving toward the man. But William had stopped him.
“Allow me.”
And showing no mercy, he turned to the man and snapped his neck…
“Angel!”
Suddenly, Angel was hit from behind. He turned and faced the demon head on. It’s green scaly face roared into his own vampiric one. Angel swung his sword, hitting the demon’s neck square on. It made an “o” of surprise with its mouth, before it’s head was taken off its body.
Angel turned back to Spike, who had also vamped out and who had his demon in a grip around the neck with both arms. After a moments struggle he snapped its neck, then stood in triumph as it dropped to the ground, grinning at Angel. He was violently reminded of the past. In a way, he thought, he was directly responsible for Spike’s death. And he was reminded of that every day. Maybe that was how the Powers wanted it to be. Why Spike was sent to him. They never wanted him to forget.
Maybe some day he’d be redeemed. Maybe someday so would Spike.
And suddenly, for the first time ever, he regretted putting Spike in that coffin.
He shook it off.
“Bugger put up a fight.” Spike said looking down at the demon, then turning back to human face.
“Right.” Said Angel, doing the same.
He put his sword over his shoulder as Spike turned to untie the victims, who we’re tied to old water pipes in the abandoned warehouse.
As they all began to flee for their lives, hoping to forget what had happened, Spike turned to Angel.
“So, what do we do now?”
Angel turned to his “grandson” and then made to leave.
“We carry on with the good fight.”
Spike waited a few moments and then followed his grandsire from the building.
Another day, another helpless to help…
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