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In The Absence Of Friends

*1898*

He got in shortly before dawn, invigorated from the blood of his last kill.  Whistling jovially, he made his way down the alley to their little house.  Pushing the door open, he stopped short when her saw her.  She paced back and forth restlessly, one hand clutching her favorite doll to her chest, the other pressed against her lips.  She was whimpering softly, sounds of angst and fear.

"Drusilla," he said softly, trying not to alarm her, "what's wrong, ducks?"

She glanced up at him, her eyes troubled, her hands shaking.  "Five weeks," she said nervously.  "Five weeks today."

He groaned under his breath and removed his coat, hanging it by the door.  "I'm sure everything's fine, pet," he said reassuringly.

"Never five weeks," she stammered, continuing to pace across the room.  Looking down, he saw that she had actually begun to wear a furrow in the rug.  She must have been at this all night.  "Four weeks once.  Four weeks and three days.  He was in Rome.  The train was delayed.  But never five."

"Dru-"

"And then- there were letters!  Letters to say he was coming home!  But now- nothing!"

"Love, Angelus is fine."

She shook her head.  "No.  Something's changing. Something's happening.  Soon.  My poor Angel-"

"Dru, I'm sure nothing's-"

"The moon told me so!" she screeched, tossing down her doll and pulling convulsively at her hair.  "Something terrible is coming!"  She leaned over and moaned softly.

"Look, now.  That's enough."  He crossed the room and bent down, wrapping his arms around her slight form and pulling her upright again.  "Quit that."

She began to cry.  "But-"

"I mean it.  Cut that out."  Despite the harsh tone of his words, he drew her close and pressed her to his chest.  She began to calm down, trembling fingers clutching his shoulders, a faint purr issuing from her throat. His fingers gently stroked her dark curls.  "There, there.  See, it's all right.  Nothin' to cry about."

"I'm scared, Will," she whispered.

"No reason to worry."  He placed a light kiss on her forehead, then drew back quickly, amazed at his own impertinence.  He wasn't supposed to kiss Dru; it was one of the rules.

((What?  Why can't you kiss her?  You've known her for twenty years.  You've been shagging her for ten.  Why can't you bloody well kiss her?))

((Because I'm not allowed, that's why.))

((Because she's not my property.))

His hands began to tremble and he pulled them reluctantly out of her hair.  He shouldn't be touching her like this, shouldn't be... holding her...

((She's not mine.  Not mine.  She's his.))

((But he's not here, is he?))

"You look tired," he murmured.  "It's almost time for the sunrise.  Why don't you get to bed?"

She nodded meekly.  He leaned over, picked up her doll, and put it into her arms.  "Sleep tight, ducks."

She made her way to the bedroom door, then turned to face him.  "Will..."

"Yes, love?"

"Stay with me?  Until I fall asleep?"

"All right," he conceded.  Nothing he hadn't done before.

He settled in the familiar velvet-covered chair by the bed, not bothering to turn away as she pulled off her dress; his eyes devoured her as she slipped a white lace shift over her lithe body.

((Down, boy.  Not like you've never seen her naked.))

((Yeah, I know.  But God, wouldn't I love to, for once, without Angelus watching, climb into that bed and...))

She slipped between the coverlets and settled her head on the pillow, Miss Edith nestled comfortably next to her cheek.  "'Night, Will."

He smiled.  It was technically morning, but the habits of humanity were still with her after forty years. "'Night, pet."

Before long her face was calm with slumber.  He leaned over and brushed a curl from her cheek, his fingertips straying over lips and eyelashes.

((Best get to bed, Will.))

Soft silken curls tumbling across pale shoulders, gentle curve of breasts beneath white lace, tiny, fragile hands...

((Yeah.  Right.  In just a minute.))

He couldn't stop staring at her.

((You know what happens when you stay up all day watching her sleep.  You're tired and cranky the next evening and then he knows you've been with her again without his permission and he-))

((Angelus isn't here.  And I can do whatever I damn well please.))

She was so beautiful when she slept... but he was getting tired and he should go to bed himself.

In just a few minutes.

He had finally risen from the chair and was turning to leave when he heard a startled gasp behind him.  He whirled around and saw her sit up suddenly, her eyes wide, her hands clenched to her breast in an attitude of terror.

"Dru?" he asked, alarmed.  He rushed to the bed and sat down beside her.  "What is it, pet?"

"I saw her- I saw her-"

"What?  What is it, kitten?"  He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and took one of her trembling hands in his own.  "Do you see something?"

((This isn't another hallucination, this isn't her garden-variety nonsense.  You know better by now.  She sees something.  Something's coming.))

"A girl.  A dark girl.  Darla has her."

"What are you talking about, Dru?"

"He's in trouble."

"Dru," he said soothingly, pulling her against his chest again ((shouldn't touch her like that it isn't allowed)) "there's nothing to worry about."

"But my Angel-"

"Can take care of himself."  He pulled back slightly and gave her a cheerful smile.  "How old is Angelus, pet?"

"Old," she replied confidently.  "Terribly old.  Older than the flowers.  Older than the stars."

((Angelus is older than time, Angelus is stronger than blood, Angelus the All-Powerful is all that ever was and ever will be the center of our universe and when he finds out that you were in here touching his property as if she were your own he'll make you both bleed for days so you'd best leave this room now before you fuck things up beyond the wildest scope of your imagination))

"Well, not quite *that* old," he replied, stroking her curls with one hand.  "But he's been around for a century or more.  He's been in scrapes before, hell, you and I have gotten him into a few.  Remember that time you messed about in the spellbooks and raised that Polgara demon?"

She giggled and nodded.

"He got us out of that mess without any permanent injury, and whatever's going on now, he'll get through it just fine.  Don't worry."

She sighed and settled against his shoulder.  "Allright.  But, Will-"

"What's that, Ducks?"

"Stay with me tonight?"

((You can take her hunting, you can baby-sit when she's acting mad and you can fuck her if I'm watching but sleeping in the same bed with her is *expressly forbidden*))

"Of course."

She pulled the covers up and he slipped beneath them, painfully aware of her small body pressed to his, of the sudden pressure inside his trousers.

((I've seen the way you look at her boy I've seen the way you look at her and I won't stand for it))

She glanced up at him, clear-eyed, sweet... almost sane.  "Thank you."

Close.  So close.  Her face, her lips inches from his. He didn't intend for it to happen, not that night, maybe not ever.  It was not intelligent, it was not allowed, it was not an option.  But suddenly his body was moving towards her of its own volition and his arms were wrapped around her small form, and ((dear God, I've been patient so long, I've been the proper Childe so long, and there's only so many decades you can spend fixated on one simple thing before you finally just take the incentive and *do* it, this is fantasy, this is destiny, this is the dream deferred and I am kissing her, Sires and propriety and the currently attached state of my limbs be damned, I am kissing her *now.*))

Oh and it was good, it was good and perfect and sweet, gentle touch to gentle touch and he felt like he'd been kissing her forever.

Finally he pulled away and stared at her, unable to speak, unsure of what he could possibly say.  She gazed back, shocked.

"Will," she whispered frightfully, "you're not supposed to- my Angel- he'll-"

He put one hand to the back of her neck, gentle yet firm.  When he spoke, his voice sounded harsh to his own ears, more for his own benefit than hers. "Angelus.  Isn't.  Here."  And he pulled her lips towards his again.

Soon the white lace was gone from her perfect skin, and her hands were at his collar, and he was pressed to her, cool, bare flesh to flesh, just like so many times before but different, somehow, purer, sweeter... almost innocent.  Innocent, yes, simple, because he wanted her and she wanted him and for the first time in their twenty-five years together in this house, in this room, on this bed, Angelus wasn't watching.  The velveteen chair sat empty, purposeless.  He climbed on top of her, her flesh like silk beneath him, so close, only inches between them, perfect, so sweet...

"Will?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

She glanced pointedly at the bedside table.

At the bedside table where the manacles and cat o' nine tails were kept.

((No, no, please, sweet merciful bloody fucking Christ, no.))

"Aren't you going to...?"

He closed his eyes, struggling to maintain his composure.  "Do you want me to?"

"Of course."

Of course.

((Did you think you would win this easily?  Did you think you could possibly defeat me?))  Not his own voice in his head.  His Sire's.

((Shut up, you pillock.  I'm here.  You're not.  And we're going to play this *my* way.))

"Drusilla, ducks, wouldn't you like to try this a little differently?  Without the toys?"

She looked up at him with those clear, liquid eyes, pouting slightly.

And he reached into the drawer.

His hands trembled slightly as he fastened her to the bedpost, but there was joy in her eyes, and that felt good.  That felt *right.*  Not what he wanted... but what she wanted, which was even better.  But he left the cat o' nines in their resting place in the drawer.

"The straps?"

"No," he growled.

"But, Will-"

"*No.*"

She gazed at him regretfully and his will almost broke, but he tightened his jaw and affected a warm smile.  "Drusilla, pet, please.  I don't want to use them, I don't want to use any of it, I'll chain you up if you want but that's where I draw the line.  I- I'm not Angelus, love."

Sadness in her eyes?  Regret?  Behind that, acceptance?  Perhaps.  But he would pretend not to see it.

((Angelus isn't here.))

He began to caress her smooth naked form slowly, reverently, as if memorizing every curve of her body with his hands.

((I want her unchained.  I want to feel her arms around me, her hands all over me, I want to be wrapped up so tightly inside her that I can never escape. Someday.  When she's forgotten all about him.  Because you know she's right.  Something happened. Something's changed.  Angelus is gone and we have all the time in the world.))

Fingertips grazing rounded breasts, twisting in the curls that fell over her shoulders.  His lips followed the places his hands had been, warming her with their cool touch.  He entered her slowly, carefully, as if she were a virgin.  As if this were their first time together.  Shuddering with delight, he started to speed up the pace of his hips automatically, unthinkingly, before he remembered that he no longer had to, that there was no longer the shadow of his Sire looming over the bed and demanding that he keep things interesting.  He could take his time. He could do this however he sodding well pleased.

"Drusilla," he murmured huskily, "can I untie you?"

Furrowed brow, confusion, possible complaint.

"Please, ducks."

((You can beg to be tied up all you want but I can beg just as hard to let you go... please please I've wanted this so long))

"My Angel wouldn't-"

Anger brought the more brutal of his features to the surface and he growled at her, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back harshly.

"*I.  Am not.  Angelus.*"  He tugged on her locks once for emphasis, trying to ignore the pleasure he heard in her pained gasp.  "Now, are you fucking him, or are you fucking me?"

Tears of pain in her eyes.  A slight smile.  ((Jesus bloody fucking Christ, I just want to shag this girl, this girl I'm absolutely mad for, this girl I (say it you stupid pillock just *say* it) love, yes, love, I just want to be able to love her for once in the last twenty-five years, is that too much to ask, why is he still here, why won't he go the fuck *away*?))

"Answer me."  His voice harsh, brutal.  Eerily familiar.

"You.  You, Will. You."

"Good."  And he reached up and unbuckled the manacles. Placing his hands around her slim waist, he flipped both of them around, placing her atop him, his head sinking comfortably into the soft pillow beneath him as his face slid back into human guise.  She blinked in surprise.  She'd never been on top before.  Angelus had never allowed it.

"Will- I don't-"

"Shh.  It's all right.  You know what to do, pet."

But she didn't.  She'd never been in control, never done this of her own free will, and wasn't sure how to do it now. He began to move his hips up and down slowly, his hands still around her waist, rocking her body in motion with his, directing her.  She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and let out a low moan.  Unsure of what to do with her hands, completely unused to the sensation of having them unfettered, they hovered in the air like small birds. Finally they came to rest on his chest and he moaned softly.

((We've done this a hundred times but never never has she been allowed to touch me back before now))

"Am I doing it right?"  Slim fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest as he guided her movements carefully, pushing her hips back and forth with his own.

"You're magnificent, pet."

She smiled and began to move against him, exploring her control, and they found their own rhythm together.

((Everything you've dreamed of over the last two decades everything you ever hoped it could be))

"It's not like I expected," she whispered.  "It's different.  It's not like with-"

He reached up with one hand and placed a silencing finger over her lips before she could say his name.

"Do you love me, Dru?" he murmured softly.

She nodded silently, her lips brushing against his fingertip.

He rolled over again, placing her beneath him, his head pressed to her breast, his hips beginning to pump with greater speed.  Her nails began to dig deliciously painful furrows along his back and he heard her whimper ((Pain?  Or pleasure?  So difficult to tell the difference with her)).  Her legs clenched themselves around his waist, all her muscles tightening around him.

((Close.  So close.  Dear God wouldn't it be so utterly fucking wonderful to release right now but I'm not coming until you do, my darling...))

It had never taken this long to get her to climax before.  He'd been fucking her for over a decade and it had never taken this sodding long.

((And you know why you know perfectly well why something's missing this time something's different))

No.  He would not give in to the half-assed desires of their absent Sire.  He could get her there perfectly well without hurting her.  But the friction between them was building quickly to a point of pleasure that was nearly painful, very nearly unbearable, and ((I feel like I'm about to explode please Dru please)) but it was too late, he felt his vampiric features surface again as his pleasure reached its height, every muscle in his body clenching in delightful tension, and he brought her to orgasm the only way he knew how.  He sank his fangs deep into her throat and bit down savagely, not the typical vampire bite but an enormous gash that would not heal for days, and she came violently as her blood rushed down his throat.

((Didn't want to do this didn't want to but Princess always gets what Princess wants and, come to think of it, so does her darling Daddy))

She screamed, hips thrusting up against his, an expression of joy upon her face, and it felt good.  He wouldn't admit it to himself later but it felt good to hurt her as well as their Sire could, good to give her what she wanted, and they climaxed together in a chorus of screams.  He collapsed against her, exhausted, and they clutched each other close like children.

"Will," she whispered.  "My Will."

"That's right," he murmured, one hand reaching up to caress her cheek.  "Yours."

And until she fell asleep and for awhile afterward, he whispered into her ear, soft words and sweet promises. Whispered things of which their Sire would not have approved.

*-*-*-*

He was awakened several hours later by her sudden movement, the blood-curdling cry that escaped from her.  He opened his eyes and saw her sitting upright in the bed, hands shaking, eyes wide with fright, that familiar, terrified whimpering sound emitting from her throat.

"Dru?" he whispered, pulling himself up.

She began to mumble, her voice high-pitched, breathy. "Te implor, Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte-"

"What the fuck?" he took her by the shoulders and shook her.  Her gaze was elsewhere, unfocused. She continued to babble.  "Nici mort, nici al fiintei."

((Okay.  She speaks Latin.  Fluently.  And that- is *not* Latin.  Which means... which means... that I still have no fucking clue what is happening here.))

"Lasa orbita sa fie vasul care-i va transporta, sufletul la riel."

"Dru, for God's sake, what's going on?  Look at me. Dru!"  He shook her again and suddenly her head fell over in an attitude of exhaustion.  "Pet?  What-"

She raised her head and looked at him; her eyes were filled with tears.  "He's gone, Will.  Over, it's all over.  Daddy's gone."  She fell against his chest, weeping.

"Ssh," he murmured, holding her close, stroking her hair.  "It's all right, pet.  I'm here.  Don't worry. Your Will's here..."