Dark Moon: Pt One - Waxing Moon

“I saw you today,” a soft voice spoke from the shadows, “You were touching something that wasn’t yours.”

Ciorstaidh jumped, startled. She had just entered into the dark lobby of her apartment building, and hadn’t expected to see anyone there. She turned, and was confronted with the second familiar face from her past in the same evening.

Drusilla.

“How did you get in here?” Ciorstaidh stuttered, slightly frightened. Although her relationship with Spike had always been amicable, the same could not be said about her and Drusilla. She had always seemed to like to torture Ciorstaidh.

Drusilla, lazily motioned to the super-attendant sitting on the couch behind her, and said, “He invited me in... I think he wanted to touch me, but when I was in the covenant, I learned that it’s not nice to let men touch me... or was it that nice men shouldn’t touch me? Either way, I broke his heart.”

Ciorstaidh couldn’t help but to shiver violently, and noticed that crimson stain that had spread across the front of the dead man’s blue sweater. She recovered quickly, and straightened up, ready to pose as a Vampire.

“Did he taste good?” she asked, smiling seductively, watching each and every one of Drusilla’s movement.

“I don’t know... I was waiting for a better meal,” Drusilla replied, narrowing her eyes, “I know your secret, Ciorstaidh.”

“Which one?” Ciorstaidh asked, forcing herself to laugh lightly.

“The one that says you can walk in the light, like the mortals you impersonate so well,” Drusilla purred.

“Any Vampire knows that we can’t walk in the sun... not without committing suicide.”

“But you can... and I guess that only means one thing, doesn’t it?” she said, taking a step towards Ciorstaidh. Her presence was overly threatening, despite her petite size. Ciorstaidh quickly took several steps back, trying to keep the distance between her and Dru as great as possible.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stuttered, “I’ve been a Vampire for longer than you’ve walked this Earth.”

“I know you’ve walked this Earth since Angel sired you, but you’re different, aren’t you... you’re not like Spike and I...”

“I don’t understand what makes you say this... what did I do?”

“I saw you in my dreams... dreams of a time before mine, when you were young,” said Drusilla softly, drifting off into reverie and letting her eyes go dreamy, “You were a Slayer, and Angel took you... your child, he killed her, didn’t he? You wept.”

“Dreams don’t mean anything.”

“My dreams do...” Drusilla continued, in a far off voice, “I saw your past... and I saw your future.”

Drusilla’s eyes suddenly shifted from their dreamy state and focused hard on Ciorstaidh.

“You’re going to die,” she told her, and her face changed.

Ciorstaidh turned quickly, and ran for the door, fumbling to get it open as Drusilla prepared to attack her. She simply was not ready to fight; she didn’t even have the stake she usually carried strapped to her leg, as she was wearing the short skirt that Buffy and Willow had picked out for her. As she burst into the outside air, she felt Dru grab her braid, and yank it hard, almost pulling her off her feet.

“Xander!” she tried to scream, but Drusilla slapped a hand over her mouth and began to whisper nonsense in her ear.

“You’re not allowed to yell... Mother always said yelling was a sign of ill-breeding. She yelled when Angel hurt her... he cut out her tongue.”

Ciorstaidh whimpered, then closed her eyes and tried to focus. She knew that panicking would only haste the time until her death.

She grabbed Dru’s hand from her mouth, and began asking questions of what she knew of Drusilla’s family, trying to distract her for a few minutes.

“Your Father... what did he do to your Father?”

A smile spread across Drusilla’s face, and she began to speak, “Angel made Father watch as he hurt Mother... and as Mother took her last breaths, Angel let Father try to save her, knowing that Father couldn’t do a thing except watch her suffer... Angel was good at that... Then Angel took the knife Father used for hunting, and he-”

Ciorstaidh cut Dru off suddenly by thrusting her elbow into her stomach, and kicking her in the shin with her heel. Although not hurt, Dru was surprised enough to let go of Ciorstaidh’s braid, which allowed her the chance to run again.

She bolted onto the street, and began to run as fast as she could, not even pausing to look back.

She didn’t have to pause; she could hear Drusilla singing from behind her.

“Little baby Bunting... Daddy’s gone a hunting...”

Then she switched songs, and began singing a modified version of ‘Humpty Dumpty.’

“Ciorstaidh, Ciorstaidh, ran down the street,
Ciorstaidh, Ciorstaidh, swept from her feet,
All of her magic, all of her spells,
Couldn’t save Ciorstaidh from going to Hell...”

She ran until she could hear the haunting words no longer, and kept running until she reached the door of the mansion Angel still owned, and was currently residing in once again. She pounded her fists on the door, and screamed his name repeatedly.

There was no answer.

Ciorstaidh began sobbing, leaning her head against the door as she kept pounding weakly with her fist.

“Did you really think I’d let you get away that easily? Silly girl...”

Drusilla was standing directly behind her. How she had gotten there so quickly and so quietly, Ciorstaidh did not know, but she did know that if she did not fight back, she would die.

She wiped her reddened eyes with the back of her hand, then said, “I refuse to be afraid of your childish temper any longer, Drusilla.”

“So then you’re prepared to die... for real this time.”

Ciorstaidh narrowed her eyes, and coldly said, “Never. You’ll never take me without a fight.”

An evil smile spread across Drusilla’s distorted face, and she said, “That’s the way I like it.”

Ciorstaidh had not been in combat with a Vampire for almost thirteen years, and only sporadically before that. By travelling so much, avoiding trouble was almost easy for her; but unfortunately, it also left her out of practise and with a fear of getting into situations she couldn’t control.

It was the fear that hampered her more than anything.

In one cat-like motion, Drusilla pounced, and Ciorstaidh made herself as ready as possible. She dodged Dru, and turned, landing a blow of her own on the back of Drusilla’s head. Dru stumbled, but quickly regained her balance.

When she turned, her face was no longer distorted, and she had a strange smile on her face. In her hand, she had a stake.

“Does this look familiar? It should; you were trained to use these, weren’t you. I bet you wish you had one right now... it would have come in handy, wouldn’t it.”

Drusilla began moving the stake in slow fluid motions, and continued speaking in a soft, calm voice. Ciorstaidh felt herself becoming hypnotised, but was powerless to prevent it. Drusilla slowly moved closer and closer.

“How many times have you used one of these? Ten, twenty times? Or would it be closer to one or two hundred? Or even more? Did it ever feel comfortable in your hand, comfortable enough that you missed it if it wasn’t there?”

Drusilla was rambling, but Ciorstaidh didn’t notice. Her gaze was locked to Drusilla’s. The combination of the soothing voice and flowing motion of the stake had done her in; she could not break the spell Dru had over her.

From behind where Drusilla stood, Angel slowly approach his home, but Ciorstaidh was blind to everything but Dru. When he saw Ciorstaidh standing as still as a statue, and Drusilla slowly creeping towards her with a stake in her hand, he knew there was trouble.

“Ciorstaidh!” he yelled, “Get away from her, Drusilla!”

Angel’s voice was enough to awaken Ciorstaidh from her catatonic state, and she turned towards Angel, unaware of the danger that had befallen her. He valiantly leaped towards her, but it was too late.

Drusilla thrust the stake into Ciorstaidh’s chest, and watched gleefully as Ciorstaidh’s face blanched and a faint gurgle issued from her lips. She slumped over, and began to fall, but Angel reached her just in time to ease her to the ground.

“I told you my dreams were different,” Drusilla said softly.

Angel held Ciorstaidh in his arms, trying to help her, and at Dru’s words, his face became distorted with fury as the Vampire in him emerged.

“You will pay for this, Drusilla,” he growled, as he rose to his feet with Ciorstaidh’s limp body in his arms.

“Angel...” Ciorstaidh whispered, he voice quivering with both pain and fear, “I’m not ready to die... not yet...”

“I’m not going to let you die... I won’t fail you again,” he said, a sob rising in his throat.

Angel quickly carried Ciorstaidh into the mansion. A quick glance behind him confirmed what he suspected; Drusilla was gone.

Within fifteen minutes, both and ambulance and Giles had arrived on the scene to offer medical aid.

Both were too late.