I, Angelus, Speak

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Summary: I do penance for amateur Latin here. What did Angelus think of Drusilla's choice of the "wisest and bravest knight in all the land?"

AUTHOR: Elsa Frohman
EMAIL: elsa@frohman.net
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Spike/Drusilla, Angelus/Darla
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story contains disturbing images and explicit, distinctly unhealthy sexual activity. If you're easily offended, you might want to take a pass on this one.
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I hate him.

I don't know why I haven't torn his head off and let my women drink from his brain stem.

He mocks me with his swagger and his insolent words. He gives me that arrogant half smile -- his eyes half-lidded, glittering with hatred that mirrors my own.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Our kind hate with a fire and enthusiasm that mere humans can't aspire to. It fuels us -- keeps us moving through the centuries. Without it, we'd die from the ennui.

But this is more than that. I despise every fiber of his existence. I'll kill him one of these nights -- tear his impudent head off his shoulders, plunge a wooden stake into his heart or toss him out of the lair to face the dawn. Maybe I'll chain him up and pour holy water on his balls first -- that would be fun. I'd like to see the skin on his cock bubbling and cracking. I'd like to hear him scream in agony. He is one hell of a screamer.

He wasn't always this cocky. Darla and me, we laughed ourselves helpless when Drusilla chose him. "The wisest and bravest knight in all the land," Dru said. But he was a silly twit if I ever saw one. Little gold, wire-rimmed spectacles balanced on his nose, his light brown hair all curly and unruly, stumbling down the street in that badly tailored suit, oblivious to everything around him.

He had tears in his eyes! Tears!

You might think that Dru took pity on him, but Drusilla and pity don't belong on the same continent. There isn't a scintilla of pity in her cruel, crazy little head. No, Dru didn't pity him. She saw something. She saw an opportunity to get the knife between my ribs and twist. Sometimes I doubt her sight -- think she's just a crazy bitch -- but that's a mistake, and it always comes back to bite me on the ass. If I'd realized what she was up to, I'd never have let her take him. Feed on him, yes -- but I'd never have let her make him one of us.

Dru hates me, you know. Big surprise -- I killed her family, drove her insane, raped her, corrupted her. Enjoyed every minute of it. Watching her with me, you'd never guess how she seethes. She's sweet and obedient and affectionate. But I know what she really wants, and if she ever gets it, I'm fucked in a big way.

Darla always warns me not to turn my back on the little loon. She's right. Darla trusts Dru about as much as she trusts me. So, you can see, we're a really close knit little family. The family that lays each other betrays each other. That's our motto.

But back to sweet William. He was a ponce if I ever saw one. Dru took him easily. He went right along to the slaughter as soon as she put her sweet, perfumed little hand on his trousers over his cock. He wanted it bad. Darla and I watched from the door of the stable as she seduced him -- if you could even call it that. I doubt he even knew what was happening to him. She had one hand down there stroking him as she sank her fangs into his throat. You should have seen the look on his face as he sank down to the ground. They usually like it -- it's a rush. But it was more than that for him. I don't think he'd ever had a woman before. He was in heaven -- now isn't that a laugh?

For a moment there, I thought she was going to get carried away and completely drain him. But she stopped in time and opened her bodice. You have to admire Dru's style. She could have scratched her wrist or anywhere else to give him the blood. But she popped a breast out of her corset and pinched her nipple until it tore and bled. She pulled up her skirts and straddled him and gave him her tit, and he sucked it like a hungry newborn. He drank her down like she was the nectar of the gods. I suppose I should have guessed when I saw how he took to it. They're usually a bit disgusted by the blood at first. They gag and choke before they swallow it down. Not William -- it was mother's milk to him.

Then, just like they all do, he died. I think that surprised him. His eyes were full of confusion as the light flickered out of them. Dru sat back on his cooling body, looking down at him with such sweet affection. She unbuttoned his shirt and caressed his still warm chest. What a sight she was, her bleeding breast still bare, sitting astride his dead body with her petticoats all hiked up. She looked at him and laughed that crazy laugh of hers.

"He's still hard," she said impishly. "I think he loves me very, very much." She was hot to be sure. She started rocking and rubbing herself on him. She arched her back and make little mewing sounds as she humped the dead body. It was making me hot to watch her with his blood running down her chin, getting off on the corpse. And it made me laugh. That poor sod, getting the first and best shag of his life, and he wasn't even there to enjoy it.

I was about to go have a bit of her myself when I felt Darla's hand on my arm.

"Let her play with her new toy," she said, her voice low and raw. "That one won't last long." There was heat in her voice if not her body.

"And what would you be goin' to do, darlin', to keep me occupied?"

"Anything you want," she whispered, moving close and running her tongue around my ear.

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We gathered around the fresh grave after the sun went down. There was no moon that night. The graveyard was dark as a coal mine.

A casual passerby might have though we were family or friends stopping to pay final respects to the young man struck down in his prime and laid to rest just this past afternoon. Dru in her black taffeta widow's weeds, me in my fine topcoat and hat, Darla -- well Darla didn't look like she was mourning. She liked bright colors and refused to wear black. She was my fine-plumed bird; her golden hair piled high on her beautiful head. She wore scarlet velvet and rubies that night.

Oh, and we had the girl with us. The little scullery maid I'd caught as she left her employer's house just a little too late for her own good. She didn't look like she was mourning. The gag was sort of a giveaway. Her face was streaked with tears, and she trembled and whimpered in fear as I held her close beside me with one hand around her waist. There wasn't much fight left in her, though, after what I'd done to her. No reason to let a perfectly good girl go to waste just because I needed to feed a fledgling. She'd been a virgin, but she wasn't going to have to live with the shame for long.

All right, we didn't look much like mourners at all -- not with the way we were laughing and smiling. But we didn't need to worry about anybody seeing us and thinking us odd. People didn't tend to linger in the churchyard after dark.

"I wish he'd hurry up," Darla said irritably.

"Patience, love," I said. "He'll be with us soon enough. We'll get him going, then we'll find something more interesting for the rest of the night." I put my free hand around Darla's waist and pulled her over to me.

"Maybe we should help him," Drusilla said in that singsong voice of hers.

"No, he's got to get out on his own. You know that, princess."

We could hear him trying. We'd heard the wood splinter as he broke out of his coffin. Now there were little scrabbling sounds coming up out of the fresh-dug dirt covering William's grave. He was on his way, but it was taking him an inordinate amount of time to get out. Darla's patience was near its end, I just wanted to get this over with and move on to find someone plump and tender to feed on, then hit the gambling parlours. Even Drusilla seemed impatient. Her "bravest knight" apparently had very little skill when it came to digging.

The ground began to heave a little bit, then five fingers emerged from the loose dirt. The ground roiled a bit more then a second pale hand appeared.

"Oh good!" Darla said. "At long last. You should have picked someone stronger, Drusilla dear. This one is barely strong enough to rise."

"He will be strong," Drusilla said confidently. "They will call him a scourge, my dark warrior."

Darla broke out in giggles. "That one? A dark warrior? He won't last the week."

Dru pouted. "Make my grandmother stop mocking my brave knight!" she said petulantly.

"I told you, stop calling me that," Darla snarled.

I had to step between them. I let the girl go, and she crumpled to the ground.

"Now, now, ladies. Let's keep our attention on the matter at hand."

William's head was out of the ground now. He was spitting out mud and struggling to drag the rest of himself out. He was panicking -- the dirt was pressing on his chest and he didn't know he didn't need to breathe yet.

"Let me help him," Drusilla whined.

"No, let him be. He's almost out," I said.

A long, boring struggle later, he was out and lying prone and filthy on the churchyard grass panting. They always pant -- takes a while to get used to the idea that you don't need to draw breath.

Dru knelt down beside him. "There, there my sweet. You're free now, and you'll never be trapped that way again."

"Where am I?" he croaked.

"You're right here," Dru cooed. "And I'm right here with you."

"I thought I was dead," he whispered.

I laughed out loud at that. "But you are. Dead as Mr. Dickens' proverbial doornail."

He looked up at me in confusion. "Who are you?"

I crouched down and looked right in his face. "Lotta answers to that, my boy. But the one you need to remember is, as far as you're concerned, I'm god."

"I didn't think heaven would be like this," he said, barely loud enough to be heard.

But we heard him, and the three of us laughed like maniacs. He knew it wasn't heaven then.

"You are the funny one," I said between giggles.

He sat up and looked around, taking in for the first time that he was in a graveyard. He struggled to his feet and stood there weak and wobbling.

"There now, you're recovering. Time for your first meal," I said. I hauled the scullery maid up off the ground held her in front of me with my arm clamped around her waist. I took her chin in my other hand and pulled her head back to expose her throat.

"Now, come over here and have a nice drink."

His brow knitted in consternation -- it was comical to see.

"Unhand that woman, ruffian!" he declared. The three of us -- me, Darla and Dru -- laughed so hard that I almost lost my grip on the girl.

Weak as he was, he was going to try to rescue the girl. He staggered to me and tried to pry my arm away from her body. I was laughing so hard that I could hardly hold on. So I let go and pushed the girl into his arms.

That nearly knocked him down, but he regained his footing and backed away taking the girl with him.

"It will be all right," he said to the girl. "I won't let them hurt you." He kept backing off, and the three of us followed, watching him and laughing.

What happened next was priceless. He started to notice the girl. His vampire senses started to kick in and we could see him become aware of the warmth of her body. He stopped and looked confused. He could smell her now -- the fear, the sweat, the sex. He could feel her blood rushing through her veins just under her skin. He could hear the frenzied thump of her heart.

And the bloodlust hit him like a thunderbolt. We saw it light up in his eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he had his fangs buried in her throat. He sucked greedily, then let the girl's limp body fall to the ground.

"Oh, God, what have I done?" he sobbed, looking down at his first victim. He fell to his knees beside her.

Dru went to him and put her arms around him, cooing like a mother soothing an injured child.

"There, there. Everything will be all right," she murmured. "My brave boy has done so well. You will be my champion. I feel your strength growing even now."

"That poor girl," he sobbed, his face buried in Dru's dark hair. "What have I done?"

"She was nothing," Dru cooed. "Nothing at all. They exist to feed us. You mustn't shed tears for them. My sweet boy's tears are to precious to waste on the animals."

"Animals?"

"They are animals. We are dark gods. We feed on them. They are helpless before us."

"There you go, Dru," I said. "You've got your playmate now. You take the git home and tuck him in. Darla and me got plans for the night."

"Yes, Daddy," Dru said primly. "Will you bring me back something nice?"

"Of course, princess. What would you like?"

"Another sailor, please."

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Elsa Frohman - elsa@frohman.net