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Drusilla showed up just as Jenny had finished printing out the ritual. One had to wonder if she’d timed it, Jenny thought, even with the cold rush of fear making her a little lightheaded. She stood up, eyes on the vampire, waiting for Drusilla to say something—anything—that would give her a better understanding of how royally fucked she was. Angelus would have been one thing, but Drusilla was insane.
“Quiet,” said Drusilla, more of an observation than an order. “Good. I like that. You know your place.” Anger had made her rigid and still, but she stood with a determined, composed elegance, facing down Jenny as though Jenny was the villain and poor Dru the victim. “You’re taking my family away,” she said. “Daddy wanted to come down and kill you for it, but I said—I told him, I wanted to see you. Tell you what you’ve done wrong, before I rip your throat out.”
Jenny fumbled. “How did you—”
“I know these things,” Drusilla spat. “I see these things. All things. Rat in the larder, and you think we won’t see you? I see everything. I know everything that needs to be known—”
“You’re insane,” said Jenny sharply, adrenaline rushing through her as she realized what was waiting for her in a matter of minutes. Rupert—oh, God, he’d blame himself forever. She wished she’d kissed him before he left.
Drusilla stayed still and quiet for a moment, taking Jenny’s words in. Then she said, “I’m only what he made of me. Only that. Nothing else left, now, and you—” Her voice shook. “You’d take that away again. You and your family, you take him away without thinking what it does to us. Me and Spike. He’s ours, you see, and—” She cut herself off. “What did I do to you, little witch?” she said, her voice shaking. “That you would hurt me? Angelus, I know what he did, it’s what he does. Did to me, to you, to the Slayer. Bleeds you dry without touching you and comes back to finish off the rest. But I didn’t—all I am is what he’s left there, and when he comes back it’s as though I’m myself again.”
Jenny stared at her.
“I thought you would understand,” said Drusilla, shaking with tearful rage. “I thought—I am angry with you, Janna of the Kalderash, because you should understand. You are a healer, and he made your people into poisoners. I was a seer.” She was all but beseeching. “I was a God-fearing girl and now God fears me. And I am happy, Janna of the Kalderash, with what I am, but I am happy because my heavenly Father is there to hear my confessions and tell me that I am as wicked as he made me to be. Crafted in his image. He killed my family. He is my family.”
Her family had spoken of Drusilla. Fragments of sentences about a girl gone astray, a girl who had perhaps never been all that devout to begin with. The point had always been that their daughter was a victim, a true victim, because Angelus killed without turning. Treated their beloved daughter as a resource instead of a treasure. Enough of the world had done that to them – the vampires joining in was a horror that could not be borne silently.
Her family had spoken of Drusilla. They had never said that she was like this.
“I’m sorry,” said Jenny. Her voice broke. Drusilla looked startled, then curious, standing still and tearful with those big, beseeching eyes. “I didn’t know—they didn’t tell me—” God, she really was crying. This was so fucking humiliating. “It’s—it’s just that I keep fucking doing this,” she whispered. “I keep hurting people. Buffy gave me the same speech as you in this classroom because Angel lost his soul, and now you’ve come here to kill me because I’m trying to give it back to him, I—” She sobbed. “I just want to help! I don’t want to hurt people, I just want—”
“Oh, sweet little bird,” said Drusilla, tearful herself, and moved forward in a rush of red and black to take Jenny’s face in her hands. Jenny’s blood ran cold—but no, the touch was cool and gentle, delicate hands wiping tears from Jenny’s eyes. “Oh, my little love. Daddy was wrong about you, wasn’t he? He said you wanted to rip families apart, but you don’t. You just didn’t know. Oh, and here you are crying for me, for monsters—”
Jenny sobbed harder. Angelus and his roses, his sharp, sharp teeth, and all this girl wanted was a family. How could she take that away? Her with nothing, no one who loved her, the one man who could have loved her pulling back with disgust when he saw what she really was—who was she to take away someone else’s happiness? Happiness was such a fleeting fucking thing, these days.
“What a gentle little blossom,” Drusilla was whispering. “What a good little girl. They made you a monster, too, didn’t they? Thought you were a queen, but you’re just a pawn. Just like me.”
And then Jenny felt Drusilla’s hands at her throat. Nails digging in hard enough to hurt.
“I’ll give you what you need,” Drusilla purred.