The Slayer Slayer (1 to 6)

Drusilla's Buffy the Vampire Slayer Site | home

Willow lat on top of her unmade bed in the warm darkness of her bedroom, silently watching the mesmerising shapes and bubbles of her glowing pink lava lamp. Clearing her mind, she closed her eyes and held her breath for a moment, waiting for the right moment. Opening her eyes and her mind, she focussed on the lava lamp once more, and controlled the liquids inside with the power of her mind, forming the shapes of lions, tigers and bears (Oh my!) and other happy childhood memories:- flowers at the park she and Xander used to play in, the reassuring Sunnydale sun shining down on her first day at Sunnydale Junior High, the brownies she and Amy Madison used to bake together.

Outside, Drusilla waited, watched, with a curious fascination, stroking the dying flowers in her hands. Glancing up at the distant moon, she chattered an incomprehensible conversation with the empty sky, until that became a bore. The dying flowers once more became her companions.

"What's that, my petals? Mummy always said it was rude to stare. Bear. Hopscotch!"

Suddenly, Drusilla abandoned her dying flowers and turned her concentration back to Willow.

"Maaahmmm… rosy blue little hors d' œuvres, she looks like. Dances with the treble clef, alone in the dark. But she won't be mine."

Drusilla slowly extended her arms towards Willow, palms facing towards her. With a quick lick of her lips and a twitch of a grin, Drusilla broke the glass surrounding the lava lamp, splattering the hot liquid around Willow's room.

"Much better, my petals." cooed Drusilla, picking up the stems of her flowers and turning to leave.

"Dru, my pet, can we bugger off now and eat? I'm bloody well past peckish now, and that supermarket is fullovem blood bags," called Spike from the street. "Let's go, now!"

Slowly, Spike closed his hand around Drusilla's and they walked away in silence.

Concentration broken, Willow gasped, watching her lava lamp decorate her room with splatters of pink and shards of glass. "So much for that party trick," she whispered, wiping some of the hot liquid from her pyjamas.

"Willow? Are you all right?" called Willow's mother.

Come on Willow, an excuse! An excuse! Willow thought. "Um yes, sure Mum, I'm fine! I just… dropped a glass, that's all." she called nervously.

Willow heard her mother grumble something about being more careful and wasting good glasses, then the shuffle of slippers and closing of doors. Willow breathed a sigh of relief. Reaching for the garbage bin, Willow smiled and shook her head. I can fix it, she thought. Closing her eyes, Willow held her hands up and whispered a spell. The now cold liquid from inside the lava lamp peeled off her walls, clothes and possessions, and formed a floating puddle over her head. The glass few up off the floor and surrounded the floating puddle. In a flash of blue light, the broken lava lamp was once again intact. Willow opened her eyes and plucked the fixed lava lamp from the air.

"Perfect," she muttered, and placed the lava lamp back on its place on her bedside table, and sat back down on her bed. Something like this had never happened to Willow before. And she knew it definitely wasn't her own fault. Something was out there. Someone must have been there.

Willow trotted into the hall, grabbed the cordless phone, and returned to her room and dialled Buffy's number.

"Hello?" a familiar voice answered. But it wasn't Buffy. Joyce Summers!

"Hi Mrs Summers, this is Willow speaking. Is B…" started Willow, only to be interrupted by Joyce.

"Oh Hi Willow, honey! How are you? Isn't this glorious weather!" bubbled Joyce. Willow really didn't want to make chit chat with Joyce, but she decided to be polite, as usual.

"I'm fine thanks Mrs Summers, how are you?"

"Not so good, I have a headache. Would you like to speak to Buffy?"

"Yes please," replied willow. "I hope you feel better!" On the other end of the phone, Willow heard Joyce walk to the stairs and call out for Buffy. A few seconds later, Buffy picked up her phone.

"Hey, Will, what's happening?" said the cheery Buffy.

"Oh, nothing much," started Willow. Then she realised it was a little more than nothing! "Well, something actually. I was doing this really neat spell, controlling my lava lam and making shapes and stuff, and it suddenly exploded! I swear I didn't do it!" babbled Willow.

Silence on the other end, and finally Buffy spoke. "Woah, that's pretty weird! So how do you think it happened? Are you okay?" questioned Buffy, with obvious concern in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine, and I fixed the lava lamp with another spell. But I think it wasn't a very powerful force that broke my lava lamp. I didn't feel a presence of Black Magic, just this, sort of curly blackness. I don't think it was another witch!"

`Well if it wasn't you, and it wasn't another witch, what or who was it?"

Spike led Drusilla blindfolded through the dark streets of the Hellmouth, past numerous graveyards, churches and hangouts filled with sixteen year olds, going on sixty, going though the "it's cool to be old" phase. Spike agreed; it was cool to be old. Especially when you're dead. And a vampire. Will Drusilla.

Drusilla stopped, sniffed the crisp air, and giggled like a child.

"What is it, pet? What can you smell?" pondered Spike, gently stroking Drusilla's cold cheek.

"I smell something new, and exciting. He's calling me, waiting for me. Where are you?" whispered Drusilla, glancing around them, eyes still blindfolded.

"Who is the dirty fool? You're mind, and no one else's! Do you hear me, out there! Mine!" threatened Spike.

Drusilla playfully scratched at Spike's ear, and whispered to him. "No, Spike, it's not like that. And I still can't see!"

"Yeah, okay. Come on my little puppy, let's continue our walkies!"

Drusilla turned to face Spike, and took his face in her hands. "Woof," she murmured, giving a little growl and a snap. "Keep going then. The grass wails and moans, wails and moans. The blades are tired of us! Go!"

Obediently, Spike continued leading Drusilla to his chosen destination. After a few more minutes, Spike could smell warm, living people all around him, waiting deliciously, unsuspecting.

Spike removed Drusilla's blindfold and wrapped his arms around her. Drusilla looked up at the flashing sign above her. Sunnydale Mall. She shivered and tapped her feet to the music only she could hear. With her three words, the lives of many people were soon to be destroyed.

"Let's go shopping."

Jennifer stood behind the counter of her small handbag shop. It was 7pm, and there were still a few more hours of Thursday night shopping to go, before she could return home. She had only sold two items that day; a schoolbag and a cheap green wallet. Hardly enough to feed her family, let alone pay for the increasing rent of the shop.

Looking up, Jennifer noticed a well-dressed couple walking towards the empty shop. Pasting on her friendly smile, she returned herself to cheery shop assistant mode. "May I help you?"

The handsome man grinned at her and introduced himself. "Hello, I'm Spi… ah, William. My partner and I have come shopping on this glorious night, to get a, what was it, Dru? A handbag!"

"Yes, one that dreams of kittens and cupcakes. I don't like ones that dream of nasties." Said the sleek woman with chocolate silken hair. Jennifer didn't quite know what to think, but she told herself the customer was always right. Devil's child, or drug addict? Either way, the couple looked wealthy. A wealth that she wanted so badly.

Jennifer nodded, took a deep breath and finally thought of something to say. "Leather or synthetic?"

The man she now knew as William licked his lips and replied. "Leather smells better."

Jennifer led them over to her newest range of leather handbags. "This one is Italian leather, and the design is French. Quite a remarkable cocktail of a handbag, It really suits you." she gestured, handing the over priced handbag to the dark haired woman.

The strange woman took it gracefully from her and hung it from her delicate shoulder. "Moo. It's still alive" she moaned, swinging it back and forth. "Can I keep it, Spike? May I?"

"Whatever my sweet desires." Replied the man named William. "Go ahead Drusilla."

Drusilla's expression turned from one of hope, to playful excitement. With one quick movement, Drusilla tore Jennifer's beating heart out of her chest and placed it in her new handbag. "It fits very nicely, thankyou." she giggled.

"Oh, Dru! You've made a mess of the nice lady's shop! We'll have to call a cleaner. And eat him for dinner." Insisted Spike.

Spike and Drusilla looked at each other and smiled with satisfaction. Together, they ran out of the blood-covered handbag shop, and headed for the cleaner's room.

Giles sat at the traffic lights in his trusty old Citroen, waiting for the green signal. Giving in to technology, he switched on the radio and flicked through the channels, past the classical station, the jazz, the Arabic news, and headed for the news in English.

"… and sunny on Friday, fine on Saturday, mild and sunny on Sunday." Drawled the reporter. Giles could have predicted that just as well, seeing as the weather in Sunnydale was almost the same all year round.

"Sure there is something more interesting than how 'lovely' the weather is going to me!" muttered Giles.

"Back to you, Mark!" finished the weather reporter.

"Thanks Marie. In the headlines today: Twelve people were killed last night in a brutal attach at Sunnydale Mall. None of the victims survived. Coroner's reports suggest the fatal cause was loss of blood from an animal attack. The corpses all had bite marks on their necks. Detectives from Sunnydale Police Station reported that only one or two items were stolen from stores owned by the victims, including a handbag and trenchcoat…" informed the news reporter.

Giles nodded, grumbled to his car, and turned around heading for home. This was definitely a job for the Slayer, and as Watcher, Giles took it upon himself to make sure Buffy was prepared.

When Giles arrived at his apartment he was surprised to find both Willow and Buffy waiting for him.

"Buffy, Willow, how convenient! I was just about to call you with some exciting news. There has been a most terrible slaughter t Sunnydale Mall!" said Giles cheerfully.

"And you think that's a good thing?" questioned Buffy.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that, I simply meant that it's good to have something to do, seeing as things have been quiet after Graduation Day. Let's go inside and discuss this further over some tea.

Buffy, Willow and Giles filed into the apartment and sat in the lounge, sipping cups of hot tea.

After a minute of chatting, Giles got back to the point. "Buffy, you and I have to patrol at Sunnydale Mall next Thursday night, see if there is any more trouble there."

"Thursday night? Why not tonight?" asked Buffy.

"Think about it. It wouldn't be any good during the day, because of the sunlight. And the shops are only open on Thursday nights, not any other night." Willow explained.

"Well if there are going to be people around, it will be difficult to patrol normally. Perhaps I should buy some new shoes, to blend in…" suggested Buffy.

"Of course," replied Giles. "But we do have a clue. What two vampires do we know of that like to slaughter with style, taking only the best?"

Buffy and Willow replied in unison, looking worriedly at each other. "Spike and Drusilla."

"Exactly. But what could they be doing back in Sunnydale? They wouldn't be passing by on their way somewhere else; they would know better not to mess with the Slayer. It must be something more important. I'm sure I haven't forgotten an apocalypse or prophecy that I can think of, but I'll have to check."

Buffy took her final sip of tea and placed the cup back on the table. "Okay, great. You find out what they're up to, and I'll continue my usual patrolling. Not that there's been much to Slay lately. Willow, do you want to tell Giles about that thing?"

Giles set down his cup and looked up at Willow. "Is anything the matter?"

Willow bit her lip, glanced from Buffy, to Giles, then to her hands folded in her lap. "Well, the other night I was doing a spell with my lava lamp, and someone or something interfered and broke it! Splat!" Willow threw her arms out wide, knocking a book off the arm of the couch. "Oops! Anyway, I came to ask what you thought of it. But I think I already have the answer."

Taking off his glasses, Giles sighed. "Drusilla visited you, I suppose?"

"Yes," replied Willow, chewing on her lower lip again.

Buffy gave willow a friendly push. "Well, you know, just don't invite her in, okay? Simple as that!"

Picking up the teapot, Giles offered, "More tea, anyone?" when all of a sudden, a knock at the door startled them all. Giles stood up to answer it, but Xander walked casually into the apartment before he was even half way through the door.

"Hey guys, just thought I'd pop by for some of that great Scooby Gang stuff I love so much! I heard about the little slaughter spree at the mall! Any clues, Watsons?"

Willow waved and gave him a smile. "Hey, Xander! Guess whose back in town?"

"I dunno, the Mayor? Nah, can't be. He only died a few weeks ago. No way, not Moloch again?"

Buffy stood up, took out a stake and slashed the air with it. "Wrong and wrong. Spike and Drusilla, that's who! And I'm gonna introduce them to Mr Pointy!"

Xander clapped and gave a little cheer. "Hooray! That's the spirit!"

After Spike and Drusilla's successful shopping spree, they returned hand in hand to the mansion they used to live in, back in the days before Willow restored Angel's soul.

Drusilla took off her heart-filled handbag, lifted it above her head, and sat down on the cold stone floor.

Spike snuck up behind her and whispered in her ears. "Ready for dessert?" Taking the handbag, he emptied the contents onto a clean, white dinner plate. "They're still warm!"

Drusilla closed her eyes and picked the hearts up off the plate, letting the blood run through her fingers. "Let's eat!" she growled, morphing into her demon face. She and Spike tore into the human hearts, leaving not a scrap behind.

"But now back to the business." Said Spike, returning to his human shaped face. "Why don't you run along and play?"

Drusilla slowly stood up, gave Spike an evil, cheeky smile, and skipped away to the courtyard, clutching her doll, Miss Edith.

Spike sat down in the lounge area, flipping through a Fifteenth Century demon dictionary. A few minutes later, he found the page he was looking for. Reading aloud, Spike changed the words to fit.

"Shirkhern. Also called the Slayer Slayer. No birth date, but is said to be as old as the hills. Four, sharp, pointy horns on his head. Could come in handy! Skirkhern is evil, blah blah blah. That's what I like to read! Ok here we go, rising dates… the Slayer Slayer can be brought forth on… oh bloody 'ell! Tomorrow night? That's unfair! Ah well, it's either that or… 2437? Right then, tomorrow it is!"

Slamming the dusty book shut, Spike called out for Drusilla. Obediently, she pranced into the room, carrying only Miss Edith's left leg.

"Miss Edith was a naughty, naughty moonbeam! Didn't finished her milkshake, she didn't! I warned 'er, I did! The dirt whined for herm wanted her over. I let them borrow her. Most of her, for tonight. I got this bit."

Spike shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Tomorrow's the big day, Dru! We have to get ready, or we'll have to wait another few hundred hears."

Drusilla dusted off her long velvet skirt, and smoothed her hair back. "We oughta look pretty. Like the fire in your heart."

Spike smiled, taking Drusilla's hands in his. "You always look pretty, my darling pet. How about we go celebrate the night before the Slayer Slayer?"

Drusilla jumped about, laughed, and licked her teeth. "I've been wanting a snackie. A child, warm and scared." Her sly smile crept across her pale face, as she skipped out the door, closely followed by Spike.

Stopping under a large oak tree, Spike and Drusilla sniffed the air. "Yes," moaned Drusilla. "I smell littluns. Pink and fleshy. They're having a party. Why wasn't I invited? I want to go. They smell… like dinner."

Spike broke into a run, blending in with the cold shadows surrounding the house filled with children.

Mary turned to Liz, laughing and pointing. "You like Timmy! You like Timmy!"

Liz turned back to Mary, scowling. "Do not!"

The doorbell rang, interrupting the squabble. The other girls were all upstairs telling ghost stories already. Mary and Liz ran to the door, forgetting the parents had told them about talking to strangers at night.

Liz opened the door to a blond man and a dark haired woman. The man spoke first, smiling. "Hi, we're hereto see your parents, can we come in?"

Liz looked at Mary, then nodded. "Sure! Dad's doing a… he's on the toilet."

The dark haired woman swayed back and forth, licking her lips. "Smell's good." She twittered.

Mary beamed with satisfaction. "I made a cake! It's Sarah's ninth birthday!"

The blond man nodded, suddenly changing. His eyes glowed yellow, and snarled at them. Liz backed away, afraid.

Mary laughed. "What are you, clowns? You're not very funny!"

The woman also changed featured, giggling. "I'm having fun!" In one short flash of nails, Drusilla reached out and clawed Mary's eyes out of their sockets. "So tasty. Haven't seen much, these eyes! Delicious!" Drusilla extended her palms and took the eyeless screaming girl, and snapped her neck, dropping her to the floor.

Spike dashed to Liz's side. "Are you afraid?" He waited for an answer, and became impatient. "You damn well should be! You're about to die!"

Together, one on each side, Spike and Drusilla fed from their prey until the body was dry. Drusilla flicked the stovetop on, and threw the body on the top. She clapped, leaping into Spike's arms. They ran out the door in hysterics. Together, they watched the house of children and the father, still on the toilet, burn to the ground.

"Beautiful," sighed Drusilla.

After Buffy's meeting with Giles, Willow and Xander, she walked briskly through the streets of Sunnydale, heading for home. As she turned the corner, she stopped and thought, 'it isn't usually this bright here. . .' Starting to jog, Buffy got closer to the street bathed in light. Buffy whipped out a new stake, ready for action.

Just in front of her, Buffy saw the flashing red lights of four ambulances, two fire trucks and a police car. But the most powerful light of all was that of the burning house. Knowing there was nothing she could do, Buffy returned toe stake to her jacket pocket. When she reached the house, she was confronted by a police officer.

"Sorry, miss, nothing to see here," he grumbled.

Buffy shrugged impatiently. "Are they. . . is anyone. . . dead"

"Please move along now. You don't need to be here."

Stepping a few paces back, Buffy melted into the shadows and watched the bodies pour out. Ten, eleven, twelve. . . they kept on coming. Dead. Half an hour later, there were fourteen bodies carried out of the burnt house. All but one looked to be child-sized. She had seen enough. Too much.

A few minutes later, Buffy was at home. "Mum! I'm home!"

Joyce appeared in the doorway. "Hi, honey! Have a nice day? Go Slaying? Did you hear about the. . ."

"Fire? Yes. And to answer the first two, kinda and ah huh! Only staked two though."

"That's nice, sweetie. Dinner?" Joyce walked into the kitchen and served dinner for the two of them.

Buffy followed her mother into the dining room and sat down. For most of the meal they sat in silence. Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but decided against that idea. Joyce took a breath. "So how's the Slaying been?"

Buffy dreaded that question from her mother. It wasn't as bad if it was anyone else, but she knew it upset her mother. "It's been pretty quiet lately, actually. Apart from one killing spree the other night at the mall. Giles thinks it was Spike and Drusilla."

"The blond man and the crazed woman?" Joyce questioned.

"The very ones. But they won't be around for very long, if I can help it."

Joyce took another mouthful, and put down her fork. "How many people did they kill?"

Buffy closed her eyes and sighed. "Twelve."

Joyce gulped and pushed aside her half-full plate. "Somehow I don't think I can finish this. Murder always seems to do that to me."

Buffy looked down at her hands, wondering what to do. "Me too. You think I'd be used to it by now, being the Chosen One and all, but it still makes my stomach turn. I don't think I could even manage to eat chocolate!"

"Me neither. How about we watch some soaps to take our mind off the real world?"

Buffy smiled, picking up their still full dinner plates. "Sure. Maybe we can have dinner for breakfast!"

Joyce walked into the lounge room and switched on the television. "Good idea. Ooh! Passions is on!"

Spike licked his blood covered lips as he ran through the dark streets Sunnydale, hand in hand with Drusilla. Feeling her slowing, Spike stopped. "What is it, pet?"

Drusilla let go of Spike's hand and glanced around. "I smell the Slayer. She's close, swirling in a cloud of ivy babies."

Spike tensed, grasping Drusilla's hand again. "The Slayer? She's here? Now? Oh, that's just fantastic! Bloody fantastic. Come to kill us before we even get a chance to crack open that Slayer Slayer!"

"Hush, the night follows on the wind in front and behind." Poking Spike in the nose, Drusilla pouted. "Miss Edith wants her leg back. And I'm sure there's one more heart lying in my new handbag, glistening in the sunlight."

"Right, whatever. But tomorrow's the end of Buffy. The Slayer will be Slain, and we'll be there to watch, drink and dance."

Drusilla skipped along the footpath, giggling. "Slayer's blood. Yes. My pet is such a clever, clever puppy!"

Buffy lay asleep in her bed at home, reliving the horrendous murders of the past few days, but for once she was one of the victims, not the powerful Slayer who hadn't been there to stop the tragedy.

In the first part of her dream, Buffy was quite young, around the age of seven. She held onto her mother's hand with all her might, whimpering and crying. Her mother watched in shock as Spike and Drusilla devoured the shopkeeper. Joyce assured Buffy it was okay, covering her eyes with her free hand. Eventually, Buffy and her mother were the final two bodies left in the path of destruction Spike and Drusilla left behind them on their shopping trip. She felt the sharp fangs pierce her smooth neck, and watched the vision before her blur into darkness as the final drops of blood were drained from her still warm body.

The blur slowly cleared, to reveal a spotless house carefully decorated with only the most tasteful, delicate party decorations. Down the hall from her, Buffy could hear laughter and chatter coming from the birthday party.

"Tell another ghost story!" called one excited child, followed by a chorus of agreements.

"No, it'll just scare you!" replied the calm storyteller of the night.

"Go on, we're not afraid!"

Buffy stood and looked down. She was in her thirties, had a wedding ring on her finger, and a locket around her neck with a photo of a smiling little girl. Judging by the size of her stomach, there would soon be another photo in the locket.

A scream downstairs caught Buffy's attention, but she shrugged it off with a smile. Just the kids telling their silly ghost stories. But was that a burning smell? No, it couldn't have been. Just popcorn, perhaps.

Strange, unknown yet familiar laughter filled the air as the front door slammed. Buffy looked out the window to see Spike and Drusilla watching their home, smirking and licking their fangs clean of blood.

Her heart sank. The children! She called out. . . but there was no reply. And that was definitely smoke she could smell. Buffy opened the door to find the stairs ablaze. Buffy called for her husband, but in vain. He was already cooking on the stairs. Buffy screamed, then fainted, alone, in the hallway.

Waking up from her nightmare, Buffy glanced around her. She was awake, in her own body and own room. Such a relief. But what she saw had still happened, and she had now experienced it first hand.

Buffy wiped the sweat from her forehead and muttered to herself. "Spike and Drusilla must be stopped, and I'm just the person to do it."