ext_257908 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
taxonomites2009-10-12 06:42 pm
a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com) wrote in taxonomites2009-10-12 06:42 pm
001: Lab Specimens [Holo]
“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.”
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.”
[ visual ]
"Drusilla."
no subject
But that was good. Daddy would be so disappointed to see her like this. His beautiful, bloody masterpiece didn't have any bite anymore. She didn't have any snap. He'd be ashamed of her!
To try and shake away her sorrow, Drusilla began to walk in a slow circle around her new prison.
"Did they catch the Angel Beast?" she murmured, to nobody in particular, "Careless, he is. The soul isn't enough for him. Don't be angry with me, Daddy! I did the best I could ..."
no subject
As intangible as Drusilla's babbling could be, what she was going on about now was even more confusing. Usually Angel could make some sense of what she was saying from having spent so much time around the woman he'd sired, but at the moment...he didn't have a clue. And that bothered him for reasons he'd blame on this place and what it seemed to be doing to people.
Sighing, he offered up, "I'm not angry with you, but I need you to tell me what you did."
Was it possible she was from a point in time further along than he was? Or maybe she was doing something somewhere else, away from LA and Sunnydale and California altogether. It was Dru, after all.
no subject
(But they weren't tin soldiers and noises were much better than wires. Even Miss Edith, as rude as she could be when she wasn't watching her tongue, couldn't deny that.)
Her last comment hadn't actually been aimed at Angel, so she looked a little surprised when he replied. She'd been talking to Angelus, to the echoes of him that occasionally fluttered too close to the Angel Beast for his own. She always did see things that other people didn't.
"I couldn't kill her," she said, sharply. "But you're not him. You don't want her dead."
no subject
No, he didn't want Buffy dead; he wanted his former flame to stay very much alive. He wasn't Angelus, who Angel knew would take great pleasure in Buffy's body motionless and drained by that of which he sired. The only thing better would have been to do it himself. He vividly remembered trying -- much more vividly than he would've liked to.
"You tried to kill Buffy." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and he couldn't keep the anger off his face or out of his voice as he said it.
no subject
"But we have bigger things to kill today," she added, rather passively. It had been a while - on Drusilla's rather erratic timescales, at least - since she'd attempted to sink her teeth into the Slayer's throat. (Finding out that she could still fight demons had helped. A great many newborn vampires had turned to dust because of their blonde hair or petite frames.)
She was coming to collect the Key. Drusilla could feel her.
no subject
no subject
Although she didn't understand why someone who considered themselves so glorious wanted to hide her name. Most gods would have been shouting about it. It wasn't as if Glory was frightened, not of the Slayer. She just wanted the Key.
She shivered slightly, though not in a pleasant way. She remembered when they'd asked her what - who, where, when - the Key was. It had been hard to keep her mouth shut when it had hurt so, but she hadn't wanted Glory to take her toys. The Slayer and her sister belonged to Drusilla.