?

Log in

March 2013   01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
Silence Speaks

Fic: Silence Speaks (1/?)

Posted on 2011.01.26 at 23:58
Tags: , , , , ,
So... this isn't an official WIP. It's something I'll probably post irregularly, as I write more on it. It's mostly formed of drabbles. It was originally going to be my entry for the C2C Community's Women for the Win Challenge, but I didn't finish it in time. I'm not sure when I will. It's terribly disjointed, and deciding on how it should end is problematic.

So, consider this more of an ongoing drabble project. It's something to fill the time until I'm done with DUST anyway. Not sure when or how often I'll update.

Title: Silence Speaks
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters/Pairings: Drusilla (mainly Dru/Spike, with implied Buffy/Spike and some Buffy/Angel)
Season: Jumps around, but mainly Season 2, with flashbacks.
Warnings: Violence, Sexual Situations (including mentions of rape and non-con), Kinks, Insanity, Non-linear storytelling, POV fic
Rating: Mature


I.
(Daisies)

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
how does your garden grow?
With cockleshells and silver bells
and pretty maids all in a row?


“Drusilla? Darling?”

“Here, mummy.”

“Whatever are you doing?”

“I’m planting a garden, mummy. Father said I might. See, here are the roses, and here are the violets, and here are the daisies. They are my favorites.”

“You’ve gotten your pretty frock all dirty. And your hands. Good girls should have clean, white hands. It’s almost time for supper. Go wash up and scrub beneath your nails, dear.”

“But the brush hurts, mummy. It makes my fingers bleed.”

“It’s only a bit of blood, and that’s a small price to pay to be perfect in God’s eyes. Now hurry up, or you’ll be late to table. Your father will be home any moment.”

“Father will be late tonight. A special order came in.”

“When?”

“A moment ago.”

“How do you know that?... Drusilla! Answer me, how do you know that?”

“Oh, mummy! Stop. Ow! I don’t know! Please, mummy. I just...”

“How do you know?”

“The flowers! The fairies in the flowers!... NO! Mummy! No! Not the daisies. Please, mum---!”

“You’re lying. You can’t know these things. You shouldn’t make up such stories. Now go clean yourself up and go to bed. Lying little girls shall have no supper.”

The daisies lie, crushed in the dirt, like shattered bits of sunlight.

II.
(Death)

The first time I saw her, it was in a dream.

I lay on the floor and watched my sister’s life bleed from her, from betwixt her legs and her throat, and one mangled white breast. The wolf had been in the hen house, and he had left her in my bed, as a present, just for me.

I cried. Sobbed. Salt in rivers of pain down my face for my poor sister, Edith, who looked like a doll now because she was so very white and still.

And then she was there, standing in the sunlight beside the bed, tears tracking down her face, too. I'm sorry, she whispered without saying a word, and I knew that she was, because she was like me, only stronger.

The second time I saw her, it was in the fire. The wolf and the bitch lay in my lap, kissing and touching and rutting like beasts. There was blood on the floor, on their hands, in their hair, spattering the bitch’s silk gown like speckled eggs. The nuns were dead, gone. Through the open doorway I could see them. The wolf had taken them, one by one, while I watched, tearing their throats and their skirts and making them cry out to God for help.

But God didn’t listen. Not that day. Nor had he listened when the wolf came for mummy, or Edith or father or Sarah or me.

Especially not for me.

Because I was a thing unclean, and everything I touched turned to death.

And so they rutted, and he mounted her as she pawed at me, his eyes glittering hard and hungry into mine. I looked away, afraid, and there she stood in the doorway, in the light. A little golden thing, so bright, and she whispered: I’m sorry.

The third time I saw her, was in the sunlight.

“You are like us, now, darlin’.” The wolf held me against the window, in the cool shadows, and made me look down on the graveyard below bathed in the sunlight as they buried my sisters and my father and the nuns. “I’ll be your new daddy, and Darla is your new ma, and we’ll have your visions for all time. You’re the devil’s own gift to us.” I am naked and white, bloody as a new born babe and blinking against the harshness of the sun. Daddy presses me up against the glass and pushes my feet wide, then there is pain as he thrusts deep within me. “There are rules, sweetheart. You mustn’t go into the light. The light is for God’s creatures, and you’re mine, now.”

Below, the daisies are scattering to the winds, and the mourners black is blotting out the sunlight. Down there is death. And her, standing in the midst of it in a white gown, with her golden hair so bright, staring up at me.

I’m sorry, she whispers.

If I am a thing unclean, then she is the fire that cleanses. We are sisters, she and I, for all time.

And like all my other sisters, she too, will die.

_________

Part III, IV, & V

Comments:


Snick
snickfic at 2011-01-27 05:29 (UTC) (Link)
Ooh! This is very intriguing indeed. Lovely language; the extended image of the wolf and the bitch is perfect - it sounds very much like how Dru, well-brought-up and polite and now insane, would think of it.

Dru's a really hard character to write, I think, not just because of the visions and the insanity but because in canon she's static; the world changes around her while she stands still. It's a shame, because I enjoy her so much onscreen and would like to see more fic that grants her her due and gives her some depth. So often she's dismissed as that 'crazy ho' Spike dated for a while before he came to his senses and fell in love with Buffy.

I look forward to seeing where you go with this.
Nos
bloodypoetry at 2011-01-27 06:06 (UTC) (Link)
Oooh lovely. The imagery was perfect.
slaymesoftly
slaymesoftly at 2011-01-27 16:24 (UTC) (Link)
ooooh - shivery look at early Dru and her visions.
singedbylife
singedbylife at 2012-03-31 21:31 (UTC) (Link)
Well, this was dark - and very, very good. Poor Dru. Excellent!
Rebcake
rebcake at 2012-04-01 08:12 (UTC) (Link)
Dear Dru. Not understood by her "real" family, torn from her chance of religious ecstasy/contentment, and tormented by her kidnapping "daddy". So sure that even the image sent to reassure her is doomed.

I look forward to more of this.
Previous Entry  Next Entry