Pairing: Drusilla/Spike, Drusilla/Scully
Story Notes: Now It’s Dark #2. Set after Fool for Love/Darla.
Disclaimer: The owners of the characters are as follows: Joss Whedon, Chris Carter, Kuzui, Mutant Enemy, 1013, and the greatest of them all, FOX. Don’t sue.
Summary: Power corrupts, and absolute power’s a good time.
“Well, we’ve all been removed in one way or another– we don’t need our families– we don’t need our brothers– pushing the needle too far– pushing the needle too far–”
“Please,” he begs me, face dripping with mucus and running with tears. “Please. I have a wife– I have kids– please–”
Everyone suddenly has family when they’re about to be killed. Even homeless junkie whores pick up sick aunties who depend on them for everything. But at least the prostitutes don’t actively experiment on other people with wives and kids and puppies and boyfriends. I reach for this scumbag’s face, tired of hearing the excuses. I pull it close to me, so close that I can smell the nasty, stale scent of his breath.
“I had a sister. Once. Do you know what you and your kind did to my sister?” I whisper, laying my teeth right next to his ear. “Do you?”
“I didn’t do it, I swear to God– I was just following orders–” he babbles. He knows, all right. I can smell the knowledge on him.
“Yeah yeah yeah. Orders. Three in the head, you know they’re dead,” I reply. “But you know what’s worst of all? Worse than my sister? Worse than my dead lover who I found in thirty or forty little pieces all over the Arizona desert? Worse than being barely conscious and sick unto death in a sterile hospital and being told that oh, we’re so sorry, but we couldn’t save the baby? Do you want to know what’s worse?”
His body is shuddering under my grip. When Dru picked me up on my long walk off a short pier of sanity three weeks ago, I couldn’t have realized just how enthralling the kill was. Now I know and I just can’t get enough. The blood is only half of it. Feeling these bastards squirm is so much better. Hearing them pray and plead and knowing that in the end, I will win–
“What?” he gasps, sounding kind of pissed off.
“What?” I ask back.
Oops. Lost my train of thought again. That happens.
I jerk his neck so that it’s right under my lips. No sense in wasting time.
“You never once said you were sorry,” I reply.
Then I blithely proceed to suck him dry. The screaming is fantastic. I kind of get off on it. Not as much as the begging and maneuvering, but it’s by no means a bad thing.
Drusilla is waiting outside. She smiles at me as I stagger out of the office building, full of the blood of a most un-innocent man.
“And what has my baby girl been up to?” she asks. “You’ve got blood all over your face. You should wipe it up, you know. Or do you want your mummy to take care of it?”
“I had something to take care of,” I reply, wiping my face off with my sleeve. I have to stop doing that. I’ve already ruined my favorite Donna Karan suit in all this midnight messiness. Oh, well. I can take another.
“Did he squeal?” she asks, pulling me down the steps with abandon. I start to giggle. I sort of love Drusilla. She’s insane, but in the best possible way. We get along just fine in this new life of mine, one hundred percent perfect.
“Like a little piggy,” I admit, linking arms with my new best friend. “So where did you go tonight?”
“I found a tagger. A little street urchin. He stuck in my teeth,” Dru sighs. “Oh, my baby girl, I am glad that you’re here with me. I’d almost forgotten how it was to have a family.”
Oh, God. She’s about to get all weepy about her “family.” The coven that I’ve heard about at least six times a day ever since I was reborn. I know all their names as well as my own. Better than my own, because I’m not sure I still want to be Dana Scully. Everyone else gets a vampire name. I want one, too.
“My Spike,” she whimpers at the beginning of the litany. I swear to holy God, once I get tired of killing Syndicate members and wearing their blood up and down the East Coast like the badass I was always meant to be, we are going to find this Spike and drag him along with us in chains. If Dru wants. If not, we’ll do something else. “I miss my boy so much– my wicked, wicked knight–”
We turn the corner of the nice Georgetown avenue. I find it amusing that despite all the antics and the dead businessmen, we’ve never once been stopped by the police. There’s something to being a pretty woman after all, I suppose.
That’s when I spot the other pretty woman rushing down the street across the way. I recognize her. Actually, I can even smell her. She’s blonde and she’s very, very afraid.
“Sweetie,” I whisper to Drusilla. “I have another errand to run.”
“Can I watch?” she whispers back.
I smile coyly at her. “Oh, if you want,” I say, crossing the street right behind my new blonde playmate. Drusilla follows excitedly, just when I reach Marita, who’s been rushing faster and faster away from me– and toward my last victim’s office.
“Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” I tell her, grabbing hold of her by the arm and by the mouth. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to avoid someone who wants to talk to you?”
I swing her around and she gawks at me, unable to speak for a second. Drusilla, about five feet behind me, giggles like a schoolgirl.
“Agent Scully?” Marita asks, staring at me. “But you’re–”
“Oh, I haven’t been Agent Scully for a long time now,” I say, putting my finger on her lips. “Not since I died. Isn’t that what you thought? All that lovely blood on the pavement near my house? The missing shoe? Did you think I was dead?”
Marita stares at me. “There’s something wrong with your voice.”
“Where were you going, Marita?”
“My friend works at that building,” she says lamely. “People I know have been dying lately. The way we thought you died. Lots of blood. Lots of– oh, my God.”
“Look, Dru, she made a connection!” I say, grinning. “Don’t bother with your friend. He’s dead. He has a wife. And children. And really bad breath.”
“You did this,” Marita hisses. “Why did you– what kind of a monster are you?”
I smile and then it’s game face time. Marita’s eyes go bigger than saucers and she tries to step back. Drusilla is on top of it. Marita walks right into Dru’s arms.
“Oh, God,” Marita wails.
“Come on, let’s take her back to Mr. Mom’s office,” I say. “I don’t feel like sweet-talking cops tonight.”
Sobbing, we pull Marita back into the blackened office building and just before we close the door, I stare into the night. My blood feels like it’s made of all the stars, and they’re pulsing. They’re going to go supernova. I could leap a thousand miles and land on my feet. This is the new me. This is what death has returned to me.
Dru has Marita backed into a corner, hyperventilating at the body of her “friend”, when I arrive. I light a cigarette, one of the Virginia Slims Mom used to smoke long before we found out that cigarettes would kill you, and take long, sensual drags. I missed smoking. I’ve missed it so much.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“We’re going to kill you,” I say, curling my lips into a smile. “Me and Drusilla. But don’t worry, we’re leaving you lots of time to cry and scream and pray.”
Marita, if it’s possible, goes even paler, and stares at me, her lungs shuddering with quick breaths. “Why?”
“Well,” I say, taking another slow drag off my smoke. “If you had asked me three weeks ago, I would have said revenge. If you had asked, oh, ten days ago, I would have said vengeance. But now, you why I kill? Do you know why?”
I’ve been slinking forward this entire time, and now I’m on my knees before Marita, who is clinging to the corner like it’s salvation. She stares down at me, panicked but without tears, and shakes her head.
“I like hearing people scream,” I tell her, reaching up and running my hand down her cheek. “It’s fun.”
“Good God,” Marita says.
“God’s not listening!” I cry, leaping to my feet, agile as a cat in four-inch heels. “Did God listen to me? And I’ve done a hell of a lot less to piss him off than you! Well, before this month, anyway. But did God listen to me? No! Did he listen to my good friend Drusilla when she entered his service?”
“No,” Dru says. She looks utterly drunk on the drama. “God wouldn’t answer me.”
Marita moans. “If I tell you something–if I tell you about what’s really happening here–will you let me live?”
“Like–there are no aliens.”
I groan. “Jesus, Marita. Even I believe in aliens. Remember? I was abducted by them? Of course there are aliens!”
“No, wait,” Marita pleads. “They’re not really aliens. They’re demons. They’re really powerful demons. They deceived us into believing they were aliens, that they had technology beyond our wildest dreams–”
I pause a moment. “Keep talking, blonde girl,” I say.
“We didn’t know. They told us to do these things– horrible things– and we did them. Some of them wanted to do it. Some of us were just afraid. But we thought they were extra-terrestrial. And then we found out– Alex found out, before he took off–”
“What did Alex find out?” I ask, the syllables dripping with venom.
“It’s all a lie. It’s the devil, Scully,” Marita whispers, eyes glittering with terror. “We’ve all been duped. We thought he didn’t exist and now it’s all over. I was trying to warn my friends– but I suppose it’s too late now. You’ve got to believe me. Whoever’s in charge of this is as evil as the devil we’ve been taught to disregard.”
I burst into laughter. I can’t help it.
“The devil?” I ask. “Do you think just because I’m a vampire now, I’m going to buy that load of crap?”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I swear it’s true,” she says. Behind me, Drusilla makes a whiny noise.
“What is it, honey?” I ask.
“She’s sick,” Dru whimpers. “She’s got cancers in her blood. I can see it all around her. I don’t like her. She whispers dirty lies into the porridge.”
I sigh. “Marita, you’ve upset Drusilla. And I can’t have that,” I murmur, moving in for the kill.
“You have to stop it! You’re the only one who can!” Marita cries. “If Mulder were here, he would–”
I can suddenly only see red.
My soul. My love. My dead man. If Mulder–
Marita’s eyes are about to pop out of her head, and her throat is half-crushed under my fingers.
“That was the wrong fucking thing to say to me,” I growl.
Then I snap her neck and throw her across the room.
“What did she tell you?” Drusilla asks, gaping at me as I sink to my knees and start sobbing. “What did the horrible thing tell you?”
“Nothing,” I lie. “Come on, Dru. The night is young and I want to get the nasty bitch out of my mouth.”
We leave the building and go walking.
Where? I don’t know.
To what purpose? Who the hell cares?
I died. I’m reborn. That’s enough.
And I’ll never need to get past tonight.