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Silence Speaks

Fic: Silence Speaks (3/?)

Posted on 2012.03.31 at 14:46
Current Mood: determined
Tags: , , , ,
I am trying, desperately, to get back to writing. I'm not quite ready to post more DUST yet (sorry!), but I've been poking at some other unfinished pieces and dribs and drabs to see if I can jolly my muse back into cooperating. This has been sitting around for a bit so I figure I'll post a little more of it.

Each "part" can, technically, be read as seperate drabbles, however, they are meant to be read in the order posted, even though it's extremely non-linear and jumps around in time quite a bit.


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


Parts I & II
Parts III, IV, & V



Bye, baby Bunting,
Father's gone a-hunting,
Mother's gone a-milking,
Sister's gone a-silking,
Brother's gone to buy a skin
To wrap the baby Bunting in
...

VI.
(Hunger)

Somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean, 1997

The ship is full of rats. My Spike catches them quick and brings them to me. Mister Mittens used to bring us birds every morning and lay them on the doorstep.  

“You have to eat, darling.”

I line them up along the wall. Their eyes are shiny drops of ink. They are small and soft and smell sweetly of carrion. Their whiskers tremble like kisses.

“We shall have a tea party. My guests are hungry.” I can hear their tummies growling. I cut my finger, so they may drink.

“No, Dru.” My Spike is hungry, too. He is always hungry. He licks at my finger, but it will never be enough. An ocean of blood would not be enough to fill him. He is bleached and hollow as a seashell washed up on the shore. “Pet, you’ve got to eat.”

I press my ear to his chest and listen to the roar.

VII.
(Secrets)

Mexico, 1998

“No.”

“Dru, don’t be difficult. Please. Look, there’s a family in that station wagon.” He smiles. I paint his teeth with my fingers. “You’d like that, wouldn’ t you? Couple of little kiddies, nice and ripe?”

“What have you done?”

“Dru...”

“I shan’t go. It’s too bright.”

“Fluorescent bulbs, is all. We’ll keep to the shadows.”

Miss Edith’s hair is mussed. Naughty thing. After all, Mummy spent hours in the arrangement. Did she hear, when Angel fell? Did she press her ear against the door? I tug away her gag and listen to her whisperwhisperwhisper.

“Miss Edith cannot hear Acathla anymore.”

My Spike is silent. Too silent. Secrets dance behind his eyes. He will not look at me, but they spill anyway. Little slips of sunlight full of dust. She laughs again, hovering at his shoulder. Why can’t he see her? I cannot push her away from him. She burns too bright to touch.

But my Spike can touch the sunlight where I cannot. He puts on his mask, ready for the ball.

“That so? Didn’t think she’d have it in her to send old Angel to hell. Still, world’s still here. Best to make the most of it.”

She laughs brighter, and he is hollow, so hollow, and longing.

VIII.
(Care)

Chicago, 1997

“Look what I’ve brought for you, my love.”

Pretty. “Such lovely curls. Hush, darling. Mummy has you.”

It speaks in whimpers, so soft. Hush, hush. Cheeks like warm china, the lashes are feathers wet with dew. What do I do, when baby cries, mummy? She will not stop!

Mother smelt of violets and mint. Hush ababy, rockababy, sing her to sleep, sweetheart. Then give her a kiss.

Mother knew best. My kisses quiet it and it stills.

Perhaps it is hungry? Mother fed sweet Mary at her breast, I must try the same. Only now it is cold, all the lovely warm fading. I shall wrap it in my blanket and sing to it.

The door opens, and my Spike returns.

“Are you finished, pet? Shall I get rid of it?”

“Shhh, she is sleeping. I shall nurse her again soon.”

“Dru, what did you do?... What did you...FUCK! Drusilla, how often do I have to tell you not to turn babies? We can’t cart along a car full of blood-thirsty brats!”

He is lovely in his violence, like a spark in tinder. So easy to extinguish before it flares out of control.

“I’m so lonely, my William. You were gone so long.”

“Oh, luv. Hush, darling, don’t cry. You know I’ve been looking for a cure for you, sweetheart. I came back as soon as I could. Hush. Here. Give me the baby. I’ll take care of it for you. Spike will take care of everything.”
______________
TBC...


Comments:


Amie
wickedgillie at 2012-03-31 20:38 (UTC) (Link)
Loved this! (and just caught up with parts 1 & 2 since I missed them the first time around)

You really seem to have captured the essential bits of Drusilla. She is beautiful, deadly, childlike, and tragic.
singedbylife
singedbylife at 2012-03-31 21:42 (UTC) (Link)
Well, I agree with the comment above - you've got her spot on - I can picture the scenes and they are - I must say - rather heartbreaking. Lovely done.
seapealsh
seapealsh at 2012-04-01 00:22 (UTC) (Link)
Wow, you write Drusilla so well. These are very good.
Rebcake
rebcake at 2012-04-01 08:26 (UTC) (Link)
Oooh! The image of Dru listening to a hollowed-out, hungry shell of a Spike is striking. Is he just waiting to be filled up with the Slayer's light, all unknowing?

These are excellent additions to the tapestry you're making!
spicy_vanilla91 at 2012-04-10 00:48 (UTC) (Link)

Resolutions

So I've decided to be a good reviewer today. You might actually hate me for the VERY long comment I posted in the DUST Q&A, but I'm hoping it will actually be helpful rather than long and annoying to read haha! In any case, I just read this snippets from Drusilla's POV and I have to say you are completely spot-on with her and how well you've gotten her ''voice''. I'm curious to read more of those. Do you intend to make an actual storyline out of it or will it just be little bits and pieces here and there?

In any case, thank you for sharing with us your talent. You are a pleasure to read, as always.
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