001: Lab Specimens [Holo]

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

“I had a dream about the hanged man.” Without opening her eyes, Drusilla stepped off the platform. She didn’t need to peep out in order to see. She could smell it from here. The change in the air, the sickening metal tang of the machines, the whispers of the false stars. It wasn’t right. “Is he upside down, or did he miss the world turning around him?”

She had missed it. Too caught up in the Slayer and her battles to remember to fight her own. No wonder it had been so hard for Daddy – no, not Daddy … the other one – to free himself from her. No wonder she’d been able to take the edge off Spike’s beautiful wickedness. Buffy Summers had made a web for them all, without even realising that she was weaving. It had been foolish of Drusilla to get so close, but the Slayer had taken her in and tended her – like a mouse pulling a thorn from a lion’s paw – and there had been nowhere else to go. She’d needed someone to take care of her after the tin soldiers had finished their work, and she and Buffy had been tied together a long time ago, whether the Slayer had seen it or not.



“We’re going to miss all the fireworks.”

Drusilla had been waiting and waiting for the party, waiting ever since the Dawn had arrived. There was a lock now, a solid something for the key to open, and the universe was going to shake with the force of it all.

Was. Would. Had. Drusilla couldn’t tell. It was all mixing together in her head, the past and the present and future, splintering and reforming.

Slowly, she raised a hand and ran a finger over the metal band at her other wrist. If she didn’t open her eyes, she wouldn’t have to see, but she could, she could.

“More science,” the vampire whispered, before dropping her wrist and clutching her temples with a shriek of fury. “No, no, no!”

She remembered waking up a gleaming white cell. She remembered the way the pixies had pulled desperately at her chip to try and save her from it. She remembered the pain that thundered through her head every time she thought her wicked thoughts or bared her teeth for something to eat. A broken vampire who couldn’t even bite. She remembered, she remembered, she remembered.

“No more wires,” she growled, opening her eyes, “No filthy little tricks. There’s no room in my head. You won’t put them there, you won’t.”

It was different, this room. Sleek and scientific, yes, but she didn’t recognise the edge to the metal. They’d taken her somewhere new. Maybe it would be worse than the wires. They wanted her to be a lab rat, racing round and round through mazes and through wheels. Well, she wasn’t going to play. Not for them. The Slayer would be coming soon. They’d burn this place to the ground and Drusilla would dance on the ashes and paint her face with charcoal streaks to make sure she didn’t forget.

Thoughts of Buffy’s fearsome retribution calmed Drusilla. After a moment or two, she began to make her way slowly around the room, contemplating important things – how to escape, the colour of a new moon, the lick of the flames already dancing inside her head.

“Is anybody here?” she asked, in a singsong voice, “You can come out and play with me. We can sing nursery rhymes.”

She wanted to play, even if the games had changed over the last few years. She was hungry. She was always hungry. She’d been hungry even since the tin men had bound her to pig’s blood and stopped her from drinking …

Her thoughts took her too far. Her hungry smile was replaced almost instantly with growl of pain, and she clutched her head and doubled up. When she looked up a moment later, her expression was almost petulant. That wasn’t fair. You couldn’t let her get caught up in the moment and then snap the vices back tight.

“That’s cheating.”

Comments

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"I don't like this game." What were they playing, anyway? It didn't have any pieces that she could see.

Drusilla frowned at Buffy. She looked older, this Slayer. A little tarnished around the edges, as if her life had finally started to take the shine away. (That shouldn't have happened. Not if Drusilla had been around to get her way.) She was ... she was all wrong!

The vampire nodded. "You know ... you saw ..."

[likeajoan.livejournal.com]

"Oh, I really kinda don't. And didn't." She replied, looking at Drusilla with a renewed curiosity and intrigue. This wasn't exactly unwelcome news to her-- god, it was kind of funny in an ironic and horribly weird way. Chipped Drusilla would be much less work to keep an eye on, after all. What was bothering her, however, was how such a thing could've escaped her notice.

"But... when did this happen? The Initiative got shut down in an epic fashion, and I'm pretty sure Spike would've mentioned a heartfelt reunion down in the cells if you were both there at the same time."

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"Before the Dawn came," said Drusilla, in a voice barely above a whisper. There was screaming in her head, but she didn't recognise the words and she didn't know what to do. The Slayer wouldn't play with her like this, the Slayer wouldn't play. "Before the Gentleman and Dracula and the Beast." - So many foes. Some of them Drusilla had fought against, and sometimes she'd tried to push the Slayer into their path. - "Spike wasn't there. Why would be my Spike be there? With them?"

She turned, suddenly and sharply, as if there was somebody looking over her shoulder.

"Where's Miss Edith?" she said with a moan, "I need Miss Edith ..."

A moment later, she was gazing back at Buffy with wide eyes and trembling limbs.

[likeajoan.livejournal.com]

"I don't know where Miss Edith is." Buffy was unsure of how to react to Drusilla's obvious upset-- she'd never stuck around the vampire long enough (and for good reason) to know how to calm her down.

"You're really not kidding, are you? You have a chip." She shook her head in a minute gesture as she tried to figure out what was going on-- and what to do. It was obvious that Drusilla wasn't lying though... how else could she have knowledge of things like the Gentlemen or Dracula or Glory?

"But that's impossible." She continued, thinking out loud. "It was Spike who got the chip, not y--" Suddenly a cog thudded into place in her painkiller-addled brain, as she thought of Willow. Alternate universes, worlds without shrimp, numerous possible realities. "--you. You're from a different world." It wasn't accusatory, just flat. A statement of fact.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"I left her in the cellar ..." That was Miss Edith's place. To watch over everything while they went out to hunt and to fight.

And then the Slayer pointed out what Drusilla had already realised and hadn't wanted to see.

You're from a different world.

"And you're not my Slayer," Drusilla murmured, placing a hand over her chest and making a claw motion, as if she was trying to rip something out. Pull the truth out and toss it away and pretend it wasn't real. "That's why you're all wrong. Where is she? We have a fight to get to. It's time for her to use her Gift. I promised. I promised I wouldn't miss it."

[likeajoan.livejournal.com]

Buffy tried not to physically recoil at Drusilla's use of the words 'my Slayer', because her mind was already full of vague imaginings of what this other world might be like... a world where she, what? Fought alongside Drusilla? Looked after her like she had with Spike, even extremely reluctantly? Trusted her?

"I used my gift already." She explained, slowly. "I don't know where this... other me is, but she's not here... sorry." Why the hell was she apologizing? All the chip meant was that Drusilla was caged, muzzled- right? Neutered, sure, but still a monster. She didn't owe her anything. ...but then if Drusilla had been willing to help in the fight against Glory in her own world, to reject her completely seemed cruel, in some measure. She closed her eyes momentarily, too tired for this, before opening them again to address the vampire.

"Listen, you need to get out of that room. Take this tablet thing with you. The sun won't harm you. There are... places you can stay, there's the cemetery. You should be able to... hatch your own blood."

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"Hatch?" Drusilla cocked her head at Buffy, studying her expectantly. It wasn't her Slayer, she could see that now, but there was a familiarity there. In the face. Underneath the shadows. She could have been her Slayer, but they'd taken different forks in a terrible, twisted road. "From eggs? Poor little chickens, covered in blood."

Besides, Drusilla was still frightened and still confused, even if she veiled it and tucked it away like a good little girl was supposed to. She clung to the familiar, to Buffy, and ignored the mistakes in the face as best she could.

"The sun? No, no, no. I don't want to burn. I want my bed." And Miss Edith, and the right Slayer, and the true stars. But beggars couldn't be choosers. Maybe the cemetery would have to be enough. At least she knew those stones. Or stones like them. She could talk to the corpses and keep them company.

[likeajoan.livejournal.com]

"Oh, no--" She mentally chastised herself for mentioning hatches without explaining what they were. She wouldn't be forgetting details like that if she weren't in such a state. "--not from eggs. They are hatches in the walls, everywhere. You touch them and visualize whatever it is you want, and it appears. They can make blood."

Buffy wasn't sure whether even if she were fit enough to walk the distance to the Sanctuary she would for Drusilla. She needed time to adjust, to figure out how she was going to deal with the situation. In the meantime, she'd try to, well, comfort(?) the vampire as much as possible, even if it felt utterly unnatural. "No, the sun here won't burn you. It's not real sunlight. It's like having a Gem of Amarra on tap. You'll be fine."

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"That's clever," Drusilla said, although her nose wrinkled a little in response to the words. Science wasn't supposed to be clever. It was supposed to be wicked and hated and false.

(She wondered, in her vague way, if they could make dolls. Then they could have a tea party, and she could pretend she was where she was supposed to be instead of somewhere she didn't want to be._

With a nod, Drusilla turned and moved towards the door. The tablet remained in place, making it impossible for her to exit, but the fact that she simply took Buffy's words - the words of a Slayer - as truth was far more interesting. A little peep at something this Slayer didn't want to see.

[likeajoan.livejournal.com]

Yes, that certainly was something. She hadn't expected Drusilla to take her word without any kind of mistrust or resistance. How profoundly weird. Thinking back to the last time she saw Drusilla and Spike's extremely ill-advised attempt to prove his love, she wondered distractedly for a second how Spike was going to take this new arrival.

The evident failure of the door to open, however, bumped her back to the present. "You have to take this communicator with you. The cell thingy." She called, raising her voice.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Her Slayer wouldn't hurt her. They'd been through too much together for that, oh yes. And her visions were useful. She liked making herself useful. The Slayer, like Daddy and Spike before her, had always been pleased to hear the tales Drusilla had to tell. Sometimes they'd given her presents for them.

Drusilla picked the device up, then, seeming to glide rather than walk, made her way over to the door.

"Do you like blackberries?"