008: A Good Deed in a Weary World [Location: Around the City]

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

It was time.

Drusilla had been waiting patiently – for the right moon and the right moment and, most importantly of all, the right people – and, at long last, it was time.

“Little lamb, little lamb
My birthday is here at last!
Little fish, little fish
Do you think I'll get my wish?
Little lamb, little lamb
I wonder how old I am ..?”

Centuries and centuries. It didn’t matter. She’d made her wish and Miss Edith was already on her way. A hundred birthday gifts – a thousand! – couldn’t mean more to her than that.

The vampire stayed close to the shadows. Not because she needed to, no, but because the darkness was soft and familiar. The sleeping city rippled with anticipation. Something was happening. It had started with the Extras, though they hadn’t – wouldn’t – harm Drusilla. Unlike the rest of the residents, she was moving with purpose and determination, encouraged by the hamsters and aided by the stars. They guided her footsteps, telling her who to seek and how to find them.

The first one would be easy. His name had been on the tip of her tongue since she’d spoken to the hamsters. He was so lonely. The loneliest man in any world. He’d be delighted to see a familiar face, wouldn’t he? Just for a little while? His hearts – two of them, which would make sure a mess if his throat was ever slit – hammered with the need for love and attention.

She didn’t know the others, not really. Just their faces. Just their faces and wishes that called to her across the city.

That was more than enough.

OOC: Open to the unfortunate lucky individuals who are about to benefit from Drusilla’s sudden surge of charitable feeling. There is also a fresh heart in a box on Ruby's desk. Good luck with that?

Comments

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"I'm fine," she said, gazing up at Sam with eyes that he knew very well indeed. They were the eyes he had been searching for. It had been a long time since he'd been able to lose himself in them. A long time since he'd been able to relax.

"Just ... kind of confused," she continued. His hands were strong, but there was a lack of focus that irritated Drusilla. "You still haven't told me how we got here, Sam."

[eaturbreakfast.livejournal.com]

"We were pulled here. Sort of like an...abduction," Sam answers. "It's...safe." Of course he's been nearly blown up since he got here but it is safe. Relatively. "What's the last time you remember?" He'd rather know where she's coming from before he tells her how they got here.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"I feel like I've just wandered into the sci fi channel," she said, holding on and on. Safe? Was it really safe? Drusilla enjoyed her time in Taxon, treating every moment like a joke and a prelude to a party that nobody was expected. The rest of the prisoners weren't as cheerful.

"The Halloween party. You'd just gone outside to talk to your brother."

She picked the moment because it was the last crystal moment in Sam's mind. Everything had started to go wrong after that.

[eaturbreakfast.livejournal.com]

It's the last clear moment he has of Jess. Everything else is tainted by fear and pain and fire.

"It's a little bit like that," Sam admits with a chuckle. He runs his fingers through her hair as he talks. He doesn't have to tell her anything. At least not yet.

"We went to look for my Dad. Just like I thought. He was holed up in a cabin drunk."

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"I'm sorry, Sam." Because, although the reality had been much worse, that would still have been difficult. She didn't remember any father other than Angelus. She wondered if Sam felt the same. If the demon with the yellow eyes had replaced his memories.

[eaturbreakfast.livejournal.com]

Sam shakes his head at her apology. "No--it's okay," he says and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Somehow he's forgotten how tall she was. The demon with yellow eyes hasn't just replaced his memories. He took his father away entirely before Sam was ever old enough to form memories. At least the sorts of memories a person should have of their father.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

She raised her head - Jessica's head - to give him a tender smile, filled with love and support and devotion.

"It's not," she disagreed, in a milk and honey voice. "But it will be, when we get back to Stanford."