Character Name: Drusilla
Origin: Buffy
Word Count:1207
Character LJ: furies_child
Rating: R



You fucking bitch," Jamie screamed into the phone, tears and mascara running down her cheeks. She sniffed, snorting back snot, and wiped her nose on the back of her wrist. "You were meant to be my friend! My best friend! How could you do this to me?"

She stopped talking, although she was still making little breathless, sobbing sounds, to listen to what Naomi had to say for herself. The sparse excuse didn't make her feel any better.

"Bitch!" she screamed into the phone and then she smashed the handset against the phone. By the time she finished the handset was shattered, the earpiece hanging from a tangle of wires, and the metal payphone was tempted. She still didn't feel any better.

She rubbed her hand over her eyes, smearing her makeup more, and walked over to the only bench in the bus station that wasn't occupied by a drunken, stinking hobo. The broken heel of her pretty pink sandal, bought just for her hen party, made her sway drunkenly from side to side.

When she reached the bench she hesitated, giving the miniskirt of her nurses uniform a tug, and looked at the woman already sitting there. She was a thin, dark haired woman in a black skirt that reached her calves and an oversized red sweater. Her outfit was too warm for the weather, Jamie was sweating so much in her scanty plastic outfit that she felt like a steamed hot dog, but other she looked normal enough. At least, more normal than the bearded man sitting on the next bench along. He was wearing a belly shirt and had his hand stuck down his trousers so he could scratch himself.

At least, Jamie hoped he was just scratching himself.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" she sniffled.

The woman tilted her head back and regarded Jamie solemnly. She had a delicate face, an English rose with a dash of something more exotic thrown in, and eyes that looked nearly black the pupils were so blown.

"Are you a' angel?" she asked dreamily.

Jamie gave a ragged snort. It was just her luck. She came to Vegas for her hen party with eight of her best friends and she ended up sitting in a bus station, all on her except for a choice selection of drunks and addicts. At least, the woman looked clean.

"Yeah," she said, sitting down. "Yeah I am."

She bent over, bracing her elbows on her knee, and stared at the ground. There was a piece of chewing gum there that looked like a heart. The world was just intent on pooping on her today.

"I knew an angel once," the woman mused aloud, her English accent soft and burred. "Such a bad, dull boy he was. Quite spoilt my fun."

"Yeah, well, he was a man," Jamie kicked at the piece of chewing gum with her toe, scrubbing at it till it was just a wad of goo. "Men are all bastards."

"Cads," the woman agreed and reached out to stroke Jamie's hair, twisting a blonde curl around her finger. "Did a man stamp on yer heart," she asked sympathetically and then stamped her own small, booted foot on a ground to demonstrate. "Smash smash smash."

The question made Jamie suck in a ragged, sobbing breath and then she twisted her mouth in a bitter smile.

"My fiancé," she said. "He's screwing my best friend. My best friend, for god's sake, I've known Naomi since we were in school. How could he do that? How could SHE do that?"

"Dogs in heat," the other woman said with an air of disapproval. "Nasty dirty things. Sluts tempting my shining love, my wicked Spike away from me."

"You too, huh?" Jamie asked and twisted around, sticking her hand out. "I'm Jamie."

Instead of shaking Jamie's hand the woman took it and stroked long red, white tipped fingers from the wrist, over the knuckles and down to the tips of her fingers.

"Drusilla," she introduced herself and tapped her finger against Jamie's ring. "Such a cold, 'ard, sharp thing to seal a troth, isn't it. Yet fitting, love 'urts. 'ere." She let go of Jamie's hand and touched her chest. Long fingers flattened against the wool. "Lyk rats nibbling at yer ribs."

Jamie laughed once and clasped her hands together, tucking them into the crease of her thighs. A heavy sigh hefted her shoulders.

"Life goes on though," she said. "I suppose."

Drusilla cocked her head to the side and widened her blue eye.

"No," she said.

"What?"

"Life doesn' go on. Not for you," Drusilla reached out to cup Jamie's face, blue eyes holding Jamie's. "You have t' die."
Jamie's mouth moved silently for a moment.

"Wh…Why?" she finally forced out.

A swipe of razor sharp nails opened Jamie's throat from ear to ear. Drusilla blinked, once, when the spray of blood hit her face. The tip of her tongue darted out to lick droplets from her lower lip.

The slight vampiress hummed to herself while she dragged Jamie from the bench and into the middle of the carpark.

"Hush little baby," she sang softly, crouching down and pulling open Jamie's nurse's outfit to reveal pale breasts in a lacy, pink rose embroidered bra. It didn't take Drusilla long to open the woman's chest cavity and pull out the bloody, slippery muscle from inside her ribcage. "Don't you cry. Mamma's gonna sing you a lullaby."

She stood up gracefully and turned to walk away. Then she paused, mercurial expressions flickering lover her face, and turned back to fetch Jamie's ring from her finger. The diamond was covered with blood.

Jamie had gone to high school with Buffy Summers. They hadn't been friends but they had been on the cheerleading squad together.

Still humming to herself Drusilla walked out of the bus station, still holding the heart in her hands. She'd send it to the Watchers tomorrow. It needed to be properly wrapped, in pretty paper and ribbon, first. This was the eighth package she had sent. Not all of them had been friends of Buffy's, or even known her. She wondered if the Watchers had told Buffy yet?

After she had sent the sixth package someone, she didn't remember who and it didn't matter since she had killed him, had asked her when she was going after Buffy herself. It had annoyed Dru that he didn't understand. That was why she had killed him.

The wicked slayer had broken Drusilla's heart when she had stolen her sweet and precious Spike away, filling his mind with naughty images of sugar sweet slayers. So Drusilla was going to break Buffy's heart, one gift at a time.

Killing her would be too easy. Buffy had to understand what heartbreak was first. Of course, the slayer wasn't very clever. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, Dru's mama would have said.

But that was ok, too. If the gifts didn't work Drusilla still had her rats. One way or another, Buffy would understand what it felt like.

"Rats," Dru whimpered, pressing a bloody hand to her heart. "Nibblin' away."