Pieces

RATING: R
CONTENT: This is not a pretty story. We're talking violence, adult content, murder, and general nastiness. This is before Buffy and Co.’s time. Also before Angel got his soul...so this is NOT the Angel we all know and love. This is evil Angel.
SUMMARY: Angel plays a cruel game with an innocent young girl. My version of how Drusilla became a vampire (and a crazy person).
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Angel or Dru. I am borrowing them (without permission) from Joss Whedon, the WB and Fox. Julianne, Michael and all Dru's relations were never named on the show...I made them up based on the few details that were given on the show.

Thoughts are contained in these * * symbols.

Pieces
By:Rebecca Carefoot

Part One
Mother and Father

Blue eyes met brown for one horrible instant. The dark-haired girl stared
into the deep, dark eyes of the demon. Her heart fluttered against her chest
and she felt herself falling into those eyes. Eyes filled with nothing but
hunger...eyes that chilled her with their evil. And then she was screaming,
the moment of connection was broken and she was screaming. Her mother lay
limp in the demon's arms and the girl was screaming.

"Mother!" the cry wrenched painfully from her breast as the beast dropped her
mother's lifeless body. His lips were stained with her mother's blood. *Why
was there blood on his lips? How had blood gotten on his lips?* The thoughts
raced through the girl's mind frantically, as she felt another scream building
in her throat. He stood beside her mother's body, watching her with an
interest that frightened her beyond coherence. A low growl emitted from his
throat and she began to back away slowly. * Why doesn't he come in? * she
wondered. *Why doesn't he come in and finish what he started?* She backed
away from the door, and he did not follow. Only stood there, still watching.
She broke her gaze away from him and ran up the stairs to her room. Not
caring if he followed, not caring about anything anymore.

"Julianne," she called, choking out the name of her younger sister over her
sobs. "Julianne, hide." Still running, she burst into the room she and her
sister shared. Her sister looked at her wide-eyed, frightened, but not
understanding.

"What's happened?" she asked. "Where's mummy?" Her round, blue, seven year
old eyes filled with tears. "Dru?" she asked, not understanding why her
sister did not answer. She grabbed Dru's arm and shook her, needing some sort
of answer. Some comfort.

"It's all right," Dru answered soothingly, drawing strength from within
herself to meet her sister's need. "We'll just wait for daddy. We'll just
hide here and wait for daddy." She wiped the tears from her eyes, and tried
to forget the sight of her mother dead.

"Where's mummy?" Julianne asked, her eyes still wide with fear. She could
tell something was wrong. She knew there was something that Dru wasn't
telling her.

"Mummy's not coming," Dru said coldly, burying the scream that tried to escape
her lips as she saw her mother lying on the doorstep in her mind's eye. "I'll
be right back...I’m going to get the baby. Everything's all right. I
promise. Just...hide in the wardrobe." Julianne looked as if she wanted to
argue, her lips forming a sullen pout. But one look at her sister's face
changed her mind. Wordlessly, she opened the heavy wooden doors of the
wardrobe and climbed inside. Dru watched her until the wardrobe doors closed
then reached her hand out to the doorknob.

She hadn't heard the...the thing come into the house. She hadn't heard him
following her, but why wouldn't he come in? She poked her head out the door,
cautiously looking up and down the hallway. Silence. There was no one there.
Her heart beat frantically in her chest, as she took a deep breath and ran
down the hallway to the baby's room. She hesitated before turning the
doorknob. *What if the baby's dead already? What if that demon is waiting
inside over the baby's dead body?* She cut the thoughts off angrily, and
forced herself to open the door.

The room was dark, full of shadows, any of which could hide a killer. Dru's
eyes scanned the room, but she could see nothing. She wished fervently for a
candle, but there was no time to look for one now nor to light the lamp.
Holding her breath without even realizing it she ran to the crib, reached in
and snatched the baby out. It's sleep disturbed, it opened it's mouth to
scream.

"Shhhh," Dru hissed desperately. "It's all right Michael...it's your sister,
Drusilla. It's all right." The child whimpered anxiously, while Drusilla
hurried toward the door. She held the baby with an experienced arm against
her hip. Holding Michael securely she hurried back to the room she shared
with Julianne. She turned the old lock, and ran to the wardrobe, pulling open
it's door to reveal Julianne, sitting wide-eyed in the middle of several racks
of coats and dresses.

"Here," Dru said, handing the baby to the younger girl. "Now we'll just wait
for daddy. He should be home from the gentleman's club soon." She climbed
into the cramped space and closed the wardrobe door, ensealing them all in
darkness. *It's a tomb,* the thought suddenly entered her mind. She brushed
the thought away. She didn't have time for morbid thoughts. She needed to
take care of the little ones. She was nineteen, the eldest, and it was her
responsibility to keep them safe. She kissed the top of Julianne's blond head
lightly and the younger girl shifted so that she sat at Dru's side. She
handed the baby to her older sister and lay her head on Dru's shoulder.

The baby began to cry softly, the dark and the shock of being awakened sinking
in.

"Shhh," Drusilla said soothingly, jouncing the baby with her arm. "Do you
want me to sing to you?" she asked. "Will that make you quiet?...Run and
catch," she sang softly, beginning the song that their mother had taught them.
"..the lamb is caught in the black brier patch..." She felt tears spring up
in her eyes. *Mother...* Slowly the tears slid down her cheeks as she sang
softly with the little ones nestled next to her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A dark figure sat in the tall oak that grew outside the window. He peered in
the window, watching the wardrobe, listening to the soft voice sing. She sang
too softly for any human ears to hear at this distance. And yet he heard
every word.

His attention was distracted from the song by footsteps ringing off the street
as a man strode towards the house. The man saw that the front door lay open,
light bleeding out into the street. He broke into a run, fear clearly
imprinted on his face as thoughts of his family in danger flitted through his
mind. A cry broke from his mouth when the woman lying on the doorstep drew
his attention. He ran to his wife, falling on his knees next to her.
Brokenly he whispered her name, "Marian." The still night swallowed her name
as soon as it left his lips. "No," he uttered brokenly. "No, not dead..."
Tenderly he traced the side of her face with his fingertips. She was so
white, so still, and so cold. Her eyes were wide open, staring blindly back
at him. He took a deep shuddering breath, and gathered her body into his lap
where she lay still, silent.

Slowly the man rocked back and forth on the doorstep, unwilling to let his
wife's body go. Unwilling to believe that she was dead. He rocked her in
his arms, and screamed her name into the night.

A loud thump rang in his ears and the man turned to the source of the noise.
A figure walked toward him clothed in darkness.

"Help me," pleaded the man. "My wife..."

"...is dead," finished the figure. "I know, John."

"How?" John asked, raising a tear-stained face to the still approaching
figure. The figure did not respond until he was only a few feet from the
doorstep. Then it opened its mouth to answer.

"I killed her," it said simply. John stared in horror, uncomprehending. Then
struggled to his feet. But it was too late. He watched wide-eyed as the
figure leapt at him. He got the impression of fangs and of a strangely ridged
forehead. And then the creature was on him and he barely had time to scream.

Blood pooled on the doorstep where the demon had left the couple lying. He
hadn't felt like feeding on the husband. He had had enough with the wife.
Besides, sometimes it was more fun to tear than to eat. He glanced up at the
window to the room where he knew Drusilla hid.

She couldn't hide from him.

A grin spread over his face, revealing bloody teeth. He licked his lips and
disappeared into the darkness. He would come back for the others later. He
couldn't get at them unless he was invited into the house. It was better this
way anyway. He only wished he could see her sweet face when she learned that
her daddy would not save her. He could never save her again. Would she cry?
Or be strong for the little ones? He laughed to himself. It was an
entertaining game this one.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Drusilla heard voices murmuring and opened her eyes, holding Michael tighter.
She had fallen asleep, exactly when, she wasn't sure. They had waited for
what seemed like hours and hours in the dark, until their bodies strung out
with tension finally drifted into an exhausted slumber.

Slowly the door to the wardrobe creaked open and Drusilla readied herself to
die defending the children. The familiar face of her neighbor Mr. Templeton
appeared before her, his white whiskers bristling; and she heaved a sigh of
relief. Sunlight shone in through the windows. They had survived the night.

"Where's my father?" she asked. They had waited and waited for their father
to come find them. "He never came." Mr. Templeton got the oddest look on his
face. As if he knew something she didn't. A bad something.

"Come on out of there," he said comfortingly. "You're all right now."
Drusilla handed him the baby and climbed out of the wardrobe, pausing only
long enough to shake her sister awake.

"Daddy?" the younger girl asked. "Where's daddy Dru? Where's mummy?"
Drusilla did not speak, only helped the little girl disentangle herself from
the coats they had used to cushion themselves in the night. Drusilla
exchanged a look with Mr. Templeton.

"Mr. Templeton..." she said. "Can you tell us where our father is?" The
elderly gentleman looked away, wishing that he did not have to be the one to
tell them.

"Your father's dead, child," he said. "I'm sorry. We found his body lying
next to your mother's." Drusilla stared at the man before her. His mouth was
still moving but she could not hear a word he said over the dull roaring the
filled her ears. She swallowed convulsively and felt her knees wobble. Only
the thought of the little ones kept her standing up straight. Slowly she felt
the rest of the world become real again. Julianne was crying, and Mr.
Templeton continued to talk.

"Come here," Drusilla said, not bothering to listen to the rest of her
neighbor's words. What else could he possibly be saying? What else mattered
besides the fact that her parents were dead? She lifted her sister up into
her arms and let the girl cry. "It's going to be all right," she whispered.
"Dru will take care of you, precious." Mr. Templeton closed his mouth with a
snap as he realized that none of them were listening to his condolences.

"If you'll excuse me," he said. Handing the baby back to Drusilla he hurried
out the door. Drusilla juggled the two children until she had them situated,
one on each hip. *What am I supposed to do now?* she wondered to herself.
She hurried after Mr. Templeton. As she walked down the stairs she heard
voices discussing...her and her siblings.

"She's 19," she heard one voice say. "She can take care of the other
two...she's old enough."

"Don't be ridiculous," a woman's voice answered. "She's a girl. How will she
support them. She's unmarried." Other voices murmured assent.

"She'll have to be sent to her uncle's," the woman finished in a tone that
allowed no room for argument. Once again, voices murmured assent. Drusilla
continued down the stairs, holding her head high as if she hadn't just heard
her fate being decided, as if they didn't all think of her as a nuisance to be
dealt with, as if her parents weren't dead.

Her eyes were drawn to the lumpy once-white sheet, that was now soaked with
blood, lying on the doorstep. *My parents blood,* she realized. *No, just
father's,* she corrected. *There was no blood when he killed mother...only a
little...on his lips. But how could that be?* she wondered, staring at the
sheet in morbid fascination. *There's so much blood. How could it all come
from one person?*

"Drusilla," the voices called. She was surrounded by voices, by people
bustling about her. They touched her hair, touched her hands, they crowded
until she was sure she would scream. Someone snatched the babies from her
arms, she wasn't sure who. The world was spinning too fast. The faces whirled
around her, and the voices beat against her brain. Then everything was black,
and she was floating. Peaceful.

With a gasp Drusilla opened her eyes. She was lying on the couch, and Mrs.
Templeton was waving smelling salts under her nose. She pushed them away
impatiently. Mrs. Templeton smiled at her, brown eyes sympathetic.

"You're all right now dear," the woman said, straightening her back as she
stood up.

"Please Mrs. Templeton," Drusilla said. "What is happening? What is going to
happen to me and Julianne and Michael?"

"Why you're going to go live with your uncle. You remember your Uncle Robert
don't you?" Drusilla nodded, wincing as pain throbbed through her head. "You
and your brother and sister...you'll have a wonderful time." Drusilla
stretched her mouth into the smile that she knew was expected.

"Thank you," she said politely.

"Well," Mrs. Templeton answered, patting Drusilla's cheek with a soft hand.
"You're welcome child. Your uncle will be here tomorrow or the next day. We
sent word as soon as we found..." she trailed off.

*...the bodies,* Drusilla filled in the words silently.

"Some of the men want to talk to you," Mrs. Templeton continued. "To ask you
if you saw anything that might help catch the killer. DID you see the killer,
Drusilla? You must have seen something if you thought it was necessary to
hide the children." She looked at Dru expectantly, and Drusilla relented
under the curious gaze.

"I saw it kill my mother," she whispered. "Mother went to answer the
door...Julie, the maid, didn't come in today. I went with her. And when she
opened the door, the man grabbed her and pulled her outside. He..no, IT. It
put it's teeth in her neck and then she was dead and her blood was on it's
lips." Dru looked up her eyes wide. "It was a demon, Mrs. Templeton."

"All right dear," the woman answered her, obviously not believing. "You get
some rest now."

"No!" Drusilla protested. "I saw it. It was a demon. And it bit my mother's
neck and killed her." Mrs. Templeton shook her head sadly.

"Your mother's throat was cut...whoever it was didn't bite her," she said
gently. *Poor dear's in shock...and with that bump on the head it's no wonder
she thinks she saw a demon,* the woman thought. Dru watched Mrs. Templeton
leave, her mouth hanging open slightly.

*I know what I saw,* she thought to herself, through clenched teeth. *It bit
her...she died. If it cut her throat it did it after she was dead. But why?
* She closed her eyes and felt the tears spring up behind her eyelids. She
was too tired to deal with this. All she wanted was to curl up into a tiny
ball and sob until she couldn't cry anymore.

*No crying,* she ordered herself. *Not where other people can see, and pity.
Not while I still have to take care of my brother and sister.*

CONTINUES