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Title: 6, 12, 6
Author: Utopianbabie
Pairing: Dru/Angelus
Rating: R
Summary: A snippet of Drusilla’s thoughts during That Scene in Dear Boy, on what happened before.

They’d chimed six o’clock as dusk folded its black wings around the world, just like always, marking days end. But on this night she knew that they heralded the coming of things. Night, change, Him. Bells, they’d chimed while she watched them fall, chimed while he…

(…laughed when she said that she didn’t want to marry – not a man anyhow. White on the day and all done up and pretty, yes, but no man. Just Him. But Mother smiled and she thought…)

…that maybe if she could snatch up their spirits from the black night-time air then she could jam them back into their broken, silent bodies and make them sing and kneel and see with gentle eyes again. But try as she might, the ghosties squirmed, wormy in her grasp, and flitted away in a flurry of black and white (and red). So she let them go and they flew up to heaven, where they belonged. She’d never see them again, she knew it, and she turned her face into the corner and made her body smaller like…

(…little Anne did. All arms, white and doughy and just as weak, shielding her head and face, under the bed. But there was the smell see, it told tales on little girls, even when white sheets covered them up. The same white sheets that covered her the first time she…)

…bled. From there. Just like all her dirty, cursed kind did. Just like she did now. Now…and she was puzzled because it wasn’t time now. She knew when the time was close; the moon would always come and tell her to empty. And it hadn’t come yet, she couldn’t see it at all but her hand still came away sticky and stained and she knew there was a reason as to why but it wouldn’t come to her, it too, fluttered from her grasp as soon as she tried to latch on to it…

(…needed to be washed and washed. If mother could see she’d make the Eyes and the Face. White was stained so easily, so easily. White stained so easily when…)

…he came and told her to empty. She remembered now; he came, taking the place of the moon but wanting something different. Wanting to tear her open and make her something else, fill her with…but she told him no, and she meant it, too. Men whose names were prayers could whisper down orders, but she didn’t have to listen (at least not until six and twelve and six and…). No she wouldn’t. Not ever. Wouldn’t let him. He wanted her to empty so that he could slide inside (like a snake) and make himself a part of her, but she wouldn’t let him, even when he…

(…slapped her and told her to ‘stopitstopitnow’ and she did because Daddy hadn’t ever made the Face before, but he did now and it scared her. Slapped her face and told her to stop being hysterical. No way for a lady to behave and ‘whymustwebe burdenedwithalunaticforadaughter’ and no matter what she said it…)

…didn’t seem to matter to him, he filled her up anyway, invaded her and tried to push her out long before the six o’clock bell said it was time. But she was still her, oh yes, still here, she knew because she felt the floor and the wall (and the throbbing between her…) and the dust in the corner that chased its tail down her throat when she breathed in, choking on a cough. The air whispered that she should remember what a cough was like; it was important, so important. But how could she when her mouth tasted of salt and copper and Lord there’s a…

(Snake in the woodshed, snake in the woodshed …)

And it she could feel six o’clock coming on.

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