"Who’s here?" he asked, looking around the tiny apartment.

A laugh.

All the hair on the back of his neck stood up.  He’d know that horrid sound anywhere.  It haunted his sleep, the soundtrack to a lifetime’s worth of memories worse than a nightmare.  She stepped from the shadows slowly, slinking toward him.  He backed up, wanting to keep as much distance between them as possible.

"I knew it was you," she hissed.  "You little cockroach.  My boy should have put you down decades ago."

"Yes," Will replied, "he probably should have.  Spared us both the misery of my existence."

The laugh again.

"That’s why he didn’t," she said lightly.  "He always loved watching you suffer.  Once you got your soul back it was so much more . . . entertaining.  Bringing misery to new heights.  Even Drusilla wasn’t that fulfilling."

He didn’t reply.  She didn’t expect one.  That’s how she was, she loved to hear herself talk.  Bitch.  She’d always gone out of her way to make his life a living Hell, even when he was a soulless demon.  She was probably the one creature on the face of the earth he loathed more than himself.

"Do you miss her?  Your Drusilla?"  she asked, her face cracking in a Cheshire cat grin as she cocked her head at him like she was speaking to a stupid child.

He didn’t answer.  She already knew what his reply would be.  She wouldn’t have asked him otherwise.

"I know you do.   Poor thing.  You always were so weak.  How did it feel when she left you without a second glance?"

"She didn’t leave me!" he spat, no longer able to contain himself.  "Angelus took her from me!"

"Took?" Darla asked, her eyebrows raised.  Slowly her face broke into a smile again.

"We were both there William.  He didn’t *take* her anywhere.  He ordered her to leave you.  And she did, without a word of protest.  That has to hurt."

"She didn’t know any better!" he raged.  "She can’t disobey him.  She’s his childe."

Now Darla laughed in earnest, a full throated deep sound full of glee.

"That’s a good one, Boy.  You *were* his childe too and you disobeyed him at every turn.  She’s never even tried."

"She sick.  She doesn’t know any better."

Darla turned from him, signaling an end to that particular topic.  He watched as she rummaged through his personal belongings, scowling with disgust.

"So does she know?" Darla asked him.  "The pretty little slayer.  Does she know what you are?  Have you confided in her?"

"She knows," he said coldly.

"And does she want you anyway?  Has she seen your true face and given you a kiss?  Is she scared of you?"

"She’s the slayer.  She doesn’t need to be scared of me."

"Does she pity you then?  Does she think it’s just *awful* what those dirty gypsies did to you?"

She laughed again, turning towards the door.

"She’s going to die," Darla said quietly.  "And if you are at her side, so will you, Boy."

Buffy wasn’t supposed to follow him.  He’d meant to track Darla alone, to kill her, or be killed.  But the slayer had shown up, changed the odds.

"I’m going to torture your little pet human, William," Darla hissed at the peroxide blonde.

"You know her?" Buffy gaped at Will.

"Of course he knows me," Darla oozed.  "We’re family.  Maybe we can be again.  I’ll get *my* boy to come to town."

Darla looked from the slayer to her grandchilde.  "What do you think?  Won’t she make a lovely Drusilla?"

What exactly happened was a bit of a jumble.  All except the last part.  Will clearly remembered plunging the crossbow bolt into his grandsire’s chest.  Her terrified call for her favorite childe still echoed in his head.

"Angelus!"

Will was frantic when the slayer found him in Sunny Rest cemetery four days after the fight at the Bronze.  She couldn’t get him to calm down, he just kept pacing and mumbling something about "bloody sire".

"Will," Buffy finally screamed, grabbing the peroxide blonde by the arms and shaking him.

That seemed to snap him out of his Rain-Man episode.  He quit moving, just staring at her with an expression of absolute misery.

"This is bad," he finally said quietly.

Buffy let him go as he shrugged off her grip, moving to sit down on a nearby bench.  She watched him carefully as he dug a pack of cigarettes out of the battered jean jacket he wore and slowly lit it, inhaling deeply.

"Let me guess," she said, sitting down next to him, "This has something to do with the nasty ho at the Bronze."

He didn’t seem to find any humor in her statement.  He simply stared at her.  She felt so awful looking at him.  He was the epitome of despair.  She watched him as he stamped out his cigarette and cradled his head in his hands.

"Will, please tell me what’s going on," she said, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

He turned his head to look at her.  Gods she was beautiful, and young, and she had no idea how much danger she was in.  It was all his fault.  He hadn’t been thinking straight.  The confrontation with Darla had gone badly.  No.  Not badly, that was too gentle.  It had been a clusterfuck of the highest magnitude.  He’d let his emotions get the better of him.  He’d responded to the bitch’s searing taunts.  Now he would pay, and so would the slayer.

"Darla wasn’t just some ho," he said.

"Okay," Buffy mused, "she looked like one to me."

He laughed.  Darla had looked like a whore, all trussed up in that Catholic school girl outfit.  No amount of pleated skirts and plaid could make her look like the innocent creature she so badly wanted to appear.

"I didn’t mean she wasn’t a whore, Pet.  I meant that she was much more than just that."

"Oh," Buffy said, her amusement fading.  "Who was she?"

"A very powerful vampire.  One of the Master’s favorites."

She nodded.  He was nothing if not vague.  She knew that there was a lot he wasn’t sharing.

"Earlier, you said this was bad.  Why?"

"Like I said, she wasn’t an ordinary vamp.  She was very powerful.  She was connected.  There will be hell to pay for her death."

Okay, this was bad.  Will was freaked and he never freaked.  He was Mr. Stay Cool In Any Circumstance.  Buffy was starting to get nervous.

"What kind of Hell to pay?"

"The Master may be locked in some dimensional bubble or whatnot, but he isn’t helpless.  You don’t just kill his favorite childe and walk away."

"There’s more than just that isn’t there.  You’re not telling me everything.  She said you were family.  How?"

Will looked at the slayer.  He seriously debated trying to lie his way out of it, but what good would it do.  She already knew the truth, knew he’s been a vicious beast before being cursed with his soul.  She knew about Spike.  Why not tell her everything.

"I’m a vampire of her line," he said solemnly.

"Her line?"

"Yeah, a descendent, sort of.  A family member."

"How close?"

"I was made by Angelus who himself was Darla’s favorite childe.  We all lived together terrorizing Europe for the entire two decades of my life as a soulless demon."

"You lived with her?" Buffy asked, both sickened and a little jealous.

"Not like that, Pet.  Not really.  Drusilla was my mate.  Angelus was hers."

"And now you’re afraid one of them will try to avenge her death."

"I am afraid.  Yes.  Because I *know* her death will be avenged."

"By?"

"Angelus."

"And he’s bad?"

"He’s beyond bad, Pet.  He’s the most evil son of a bitch I’ve ever met.  He’ll kill us all."

Buffy shivered.  Will was truly afraid.  The idea that someone could scare him so bad in turn scared her.

"Well," she ventured, "you can’t be *sure* that he’ll come."

"Yes I can.  He’ll come here and he’ll hunt us down one by one."

The End

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