Chapter 36 – Glasgow, 23 July 2004
I know I'm on a floor, and I know I'm chained up. Those two
things filter into my mind before anything else. The picture becomes slowly
clearer, little details adding to the whole - the floor's wooden, not the stone
more usually associated with manacles and dungeons. Then there's the warmth.
Dungeons are supposed to be cold, dank and dark, but this isn't. The light is
one of the final options to dawn, as I'm only certain of that when I open my
eyes. I'd already been pretty sure I was alone, and a quick glance around the
room confirms that.
I admit I'm surprised. Given the circumstances when I lost
consciousness, I fully expected to come round to Angelus' leer and a whole lot
of pain. Instead, there's the remaining discomfort of the taser and the rather
more basic discomfort of being chained in a less-than-ideal position, but
beyond that, nothing to really complain about.
I pull on the chains. The links themselves are pretty
strong, so I'm not going to break them. The wall might be a different matter. I
can't be sure of course, but given my previous experience of taser-induced
unconsciousness, it can't be too long since Angelus surprised me at Russell's,
so I assume I'm still in, or close to, Glasgow.
The room has windows at ground level, but as of now, there's no direct
sunshine. Given Angelus' avowed intention of keeping me in more or less one
piece until he can get his hands on Buffy, I suspect that's not going to change
much.
The wooden floor boards are uneven and rough, the room
probably intended as a bedroom, and it's bare except for the chains which seem
to have been set into the stone of the outside wall. The plaster's been
stripped away to get access to the stone, and, by the look of it, recently too.
I suspect it's been done for my benefit.
Some of the old buildings around here are built from huge
stone blocks, and the walls can be very thick. Craning my neck around to get a
better look at this one, it's reddish, and I think it's probably sandstone.
Given that, I can probably work at it slowly, and in time, I might be able to
prise the fixings out of the wall. Of course, I probably don't have that much
time, so a plan B would be useful if I can come up with one.
Still, while I'm thinking, I make an effort to keep pulling
on the chains - not much more than a small contraction of my arm muscles, but
the sort of thing that I know will gradually weaken the fixings without being
too obvious or tiring.
I hear a sound approaching, and my heart sinks. I should
have known that Angelus wouldn't leave me alone for long. When the door opens,
though, it's not him. In fact, I'm more shocked than anything by what I see.
Drusilla. I know by the lack of familiarity I feel that it's not 'my' Dru.
There's that same alien-ness I felt with Angelus, so I assume she's the one who
belongs to the other universe. Of course, it makes sense that that Dru would be
with her 'daddy'. If he never regained his soul in Sunnydale, then Dru
certainly wouldn't leave him. I wonder for a moment what happened to the Spike
of her world, but she's just standing there, staring at me, and I'm finding
that worrying.
"What's up, Dru?" I ask, trying to keep my voice
gentle.
"You're not really him, are you?"
"Not who, Pet?"
"My William. You're not my William. Daddy told me the
nasty Slayer killed him, but the stars whispered that Daddy did it."
Well, that seems to answer my question.
"No, I'm not really your William. But I'm probably
quite like him."
"No. You're different. You've got that nasty spark in
you. It burns you up and makes you ash."
"Not so different. The spark didn't change me so much.
Typical when you think how it affected him."
She giggles at that - a girlish sound that I used to love,
and proves she understood what I said.
"Where is he?"
"He's out. He's busy. Lots of things to do. Taken the
others with him. Left me all alone."
"But you're not alone, are you, Dru. I'm here. And if
you unchain me, we could have some fun."
"Tsk, tsk. You're a bad boy, William. Daddy will be
cross, and then there will be no cakes for tea."
Well, it was worth a try.
"We could still have some fun," she offers.
"I know lots of good games."
"I know, Pet."
"Do you like the one where I make pretty marks on you
with the water?"
"No, Pet. I never did like that one."
"Oh. My William didn't like that one either, but
sometimes he let me play."
"He loved you."
"Daddy said he didn't. Daddy says we can't love anyone,
and we shouldn't talk of such things, but I think we can love quite well."
"' Course we can, Pet."
She seems to shiver then, something between terror and cold.
"What is it, Pet?"
"We shouldn't have come here. I told Daddy, but he said
I was just scared of the nasty Slayer because she killed my William. He used to
listen to me, once. He used to listen when I told him what the stars were
whispering, but not any more."
"He never did understand you like I did, did he?"
The smile she gives is more child-like than I can remember
from Dru for a long time.
"I'm cold. Can I come and sit with you?"
"' Course you can, Pet." I pat the floor next to
me, or at least, gesture towards it. She comes and settles beside me, curling
her body around me like a cat. Her eyes, when I crane round to look, are open,
staring straight ahead like the un-reanimated dead.
She stays like that, apparently unwilling to talk, and I
continue with my efforts to loosen the chains from the wall. I don't know how
much later, but I'd guess maybe an hour, I feel something. It's just a brush on
my mind, the merest feather-touch, but just as I'm wondering whether or not I
imagined it, Dru sits up, stiff and straight, chanting and crying in terror.
"She's coming. She's coming. She's going to get
us."
"Who, Pet? Who's coming?"
She looks at me, blankly. I know the signs immediately.
She's had one of her visions, one of the rare ones where she doesn't remember
afterwards. She always knew things she shouldn't have, but the ones she had
like this, they were always big. Whatever's coming, it's scary.
Dru gets up then, back to herself, and skips towards the
door. "Daddy said I wasn't to talk to you while he was gone. He said if I
was good, he'd let me play with you later. You won't tell him, will you? I want
to have a tea party, and you can play too."
"I won't say a word, Dru. Off you go."
She smiles softly at me as she turns to go.
She's not my Dru in any number of ways. I don't know what
he's done to her in the years since he turned her, in the time since my
counterpart got dusted, but it's different. She's got the visions, and she
definitely doesn't seem entirely sane, but it's more of a child-like insanity
than I recognise. Then again, maybe she was putting it on for my benefit. Even
at her worst, my Dru could play you if she wanted to.
Moments later, there's movement in the hallway, and by the
sound of bellowing, it's obvious that Angelus is back and that something didn't
go according to plan. He's yelling at someone - a minion probably - demanding
something to drink. Shortly after that, he bursts into my room, a bottle of
Irish whiskey in his hand.
"What is it with this benighted world? The vamps are a
disgrace – I haven’t found a single one worth using. Are you the same? So weak
that you’re not even worth the effort of a good spot of torture? The William I
knew was an idiot, and he had a misplaced nobility that nauseated me, but made
him such a pleasure to hurt. But you’ve got a soul too. Maybe that’ll just make
it feel like you deserve the pain."
I don't answer. I know from past experience of Angelus that
he doesn't like having his rhetorical questions answered. Then again, he
doesn't like to think he's being ignored either, so I'm probably buggered
whichever way I go.
“So, the soul – how’s that working out for you?”
I lift my head and hold his gaze.
“It’s not so bad – not worth eating rats for.”
He aims a kick at my ribs for that, and I hear a sickening
crack.
“Haven’t learned when to keep your mouth shut yet, have
you?”
I’m not sure I could speak even if I wanted to – the effort
of filling my lungs too much for the moment.
“Still don’t care too much about your own pain, do you? It
never did matter, though, did it? I hurt you, then I hurt her, and you get a
ringside seat. For every time you say something you shouldn’t, every time you
do something I don’t like, she’ll pay. You get that? She’s going to hurt either
way, but if you make me angry, she’s going to wish she was dead for a very long
time.”
He pauses then, letting the full impact of what he said sink
in. My mind’s a red haze – anger threatening to erupt uselessly and it’s taking
every ounce of control I can muster to stay still.
"So, William. This Slayer. She's got a reputation, you
know? Mine did - most successful Slayer on record until I got her. She lasted a
long time with me too. That was one tough bitch, and with the Slayer healing
and all, she just kept bouncing back from everything. The one in this world, I
heard she was just as tough but I'm not so sure. She didn't dust you for a
start - that's not showing a lot of brains. Of course, it's obvious why she
didn't. I was the first man to get between her legs, a human wouldn’t compare.
She settled for you in the end, so she must've been pretty desperate. You too,
unless she’s improved with practice. How's that feel, eh William? Have you ever
had a woman I didn't get to first?"
Every muscle tense with the effort of keeping still, I say
nothing. The result of that is a blow across my face that splits my lip and
jolts my head against the wall so badly that I know I'm going to be feeling it
for hours.
I pull myself back up to the least uncomfortable position I
can manage, and he squats in front of me, his face threateningly close to mine.
"You forget I know you, William. You're angry. I can
read you. And when you're angry, you lose control of whatever brains you have. What
really hurts is thinking about what I’m going to do to her, isn’t that right?”
He pauses then, watching me, but we both know he’s right.
“So, here's a reminder for you. When I ask you a question,
you answer it. Got it?"
I hold his gaze silently, and I'm rewarded by another blow.
And then he laughs.
"You see, William? Two minutes, and I'm already under
your skin. I know your weaknesses, and it's going to be fun exploiting them.
And talking of which …" He raises his head and turns towards the door.
"Dru, get in here."
She comes in obediently, coming directly to his side. He
pulls her into his arms and kisses her roughly, his hands pulling her filmy
skirt up to give him access to what's underneath. He then pulls away quickly,
and looks at her.
"So, Dru. Did you visit our guest while I was
gone?"
She does a little smile that gives away her guilt
immediately.
"Ah, Drusilla. What am I going to do with you?"
"Does that mean we can't have our tea party?"
"I'm afraid so. Why can't you do as you're told?"
"I'm a bad girl."
"You are that. Go and tell the others to go and feed as
soon as it's dark. Then stay in the other room. I've got some business with
William here, but I’ll be in later. It seems you need reminding to do as you’re
told too."
She sticks out her bottom lip in a perfect pout before
getting up to leave the room, but there’s fear there too – an uneasiness in her
eyes that’s far more honest than the pout.
"Now, Boy. Where were we?"
He pulls something out of the back pocket of his trousers. A
flick knife. Something tells me things are about to take a turn for the worse.
"Ah yes. I remember. I was going to show you what
happens when you don't show me the proper respect, wasn't I? And better yet, I
get to show you some of the things I have planned for the Slayer – just so you
can imagine them in advance. And then, when I’m finished, I’ll let you listen
while I remind Dru who’s in charge."
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