Title: Penance
Author: Michael K. Donovan
Email: mike@vmp-canada.com
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc.

On her way back into town, Drusilla stopped by the market again to pick up the cakes she had promised Joshua. A kindly looking old woman beckoned to her as she passed, pointing to the collection of baked goods on her table.

Drusilla stopped and looked over the selection carefully. She selected four fresh flatcakes flavored with strawberries, Joshua's favorite, and wrapped them in a thin cloth. The woman smiled kindly at her and slipped a fifth into the bundle with a conspiratorial wink.

"For your sweetheart, Luv." She alluded patting the back of Drusilla's hand.

"My sweetheart?" Drusilla cocked her head in polite confusion, "I'm afraid I have no sweetheart."

"Oh dearie, I think that you do. You just don't know it yet." She nodded covertly over Dru's shoulder toward a figure dressed in black who stood casually within the open mouth of an alleyway, "A handsome young man like that doesn't watch a girl unless he's got courtin' in mind."

Whirling about with no regard for ladylike decorum, Drusilla followed the woman's indication. She recognized the young man as the missionary she had met with this morning. He smiled at her, but remained still, content to continue watching her from the late day shadows.

"Um, thank you." She said nervously over her shoulder to the woman, gathering up her bundle of cakes and carefully approaching the missionary.

She walked across the square and stopped a cautious distance from the young man, watching him anxiously.

"Hello again, sweet Miss Abbott." Angelus greeted quietly, "On your way home?"

The tone of his voice was so low that Drusilla unintentionally stepped a little closer to hear him.

"H-hello missionary." She answered, clutching the cloth bundle in her hands tensely, "Y-yes, I have penance to perform before the sun goes down."

"Ah yes, prayers." Angelus nodded sympathetically, "What a pious child you are. Allow me to walk with you. It's almost dark and the ghouls and ghosts will be out soon, no place for a fine young lady such as yerself. After all, God cannot be everywhere."

As he offered out his arm in a gentlemanly manner, Drusilla frowned slightly. All the teachings she had ever learned dictated the exact opposite of his last statement.

Carefully, she took his arm by the elbow and started down the alley. She wasn't sure if she was making a good decision, but the woman from the market had been right. Angel appeared to be quite a dashing young man and, missionary or not, walking home on his arm was not an unpleasant thought.

Strolling quietly together, they cut across another cobbled street and through a wooded park.

Angel guided her along a shaded path, keeping under the cool shelter of the birch trees. Never once did the pale sunlight alight upon his intense countenance. Stepping over a small stream, he held Drusilla's hand high, gallantly helping her with her balance as she prepared to cross the tiny impasse.

She hopped over and landed on the edge of the opposite bank immediately in front of him, nearly colliding with his chest.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, teetering precariously before him, unwilling to grab on to him for support.

Angel's arm snaked around her waist and steadied her, pulling her body close as he held her nervous gaze with his.

Drusilla froze in his strong grasp, losing herself in the depth of his impossibly deep eyes. Her heart was thumping like a trapped bird in her chest and her throat felt tight and dry. She had never been this intensely aware of a man before.

Her fingers brushed along the rough wool of his coat as he lifted her easily and turned, setting her feet down on more solid ground. This close to him, crushed up against the solidity of his chest, she felt anxious and pleasantly disoriented.

"Th-thank you, sir." She smiled weakly, demurely dropping her eyes from his.

He caressed the soft underside of her chin with a surprisingly gentle finger, nudging her face up to look at him, the coolness of his touch elicited a rush of heat from her maidenly skin. He caught her with his gaze again, a faint smile bending his lips and creasing the corners of his eyes.

Drusilla felt her breath quicken and an unfamiliar tightness in her chest. It was as if her lungs had emptied themselves of all breath.

"You're a very beautiful girl, Drusilla." Angel whispered in a voice filled with warm admiration.

Tightening his arm around her waist, he pulled her close.

Drusilla's lips parted in awe and she hesitated, caught between instinctive curiosity and social propriety, a breathy gasp escaping her soft, pink mouth. There was something at once dangerous and exciting about this man, an aura of mystery that played with her imagination. Closing her eyes, she laid her head against his chest and relaxed in his arms. His touch was so strong and confident and she could smell the heady scent of freshly turned earth from his clothes, like the sweetness of a warm spring day. The surface of her skin began to grow hot, tingling all over, as if her naked body was being kissed by the warmth of the sun on a windless day.

He broke the intimate contact, stepping back slightly, and she reached for him instinctively then stopped herself, dizzily blinking away the haze of her desire.

Angel smiled congenially at her and raised his eyebrows suggestively, slipping his hands from around her waist and casually dropping them into his pockets.

Realization of what she had just done started to sink in and Drusilla clapped her hand to her mouth in panic and remorse. She had been entertaining impure thoughts. Thoughts that surely were rooted in sin. And about a man of God, at that!

"The Lord has a plan for all creatures. Even a Devil child like you." The father's condemning voice echoed in her memory.

Shame rushed through her and she stepped back, away from Angel, in horror. Tears of self recrimination welled up in her eyes and her mouth quivered in disbelief. She turned, fleeing from the scene and the evil that she had committed, a lump of choking guilt in the back of her throat.

It was dark by the time Drusilla ran up the cobblestones to her front door. She found her father waiting for her with a stern expression on his face and his arms folded tightly over his chest.

She was in trouble, she knew it. Daddy never got that look unless he was very angry.

"H-Hello, Daddy." She greeted him fearfully.

In the blink of an eye, her father's hand shot out and clamped painfully around her arm. The bundle of cakes she had bought for Joshua tumbled to the ground and spilled out. Drusilla cried out as he dragged her forcefully into the house and down to her bedroom.

"I spend all day burying two good, righteous men and I come home to hear THIS?!" he shook her angrily, his thick fingers pressing painfully into the soft flesh of her arm.

"W-What are you talking about?" Drusilla wailed, "What did I do?"

"I thought you were a good girl, Dru." He gripped her by both arms and forced her to look into his rage-filled eyes, "I thought we raised you right, but now I know I was wrong."

"Daddy, please!" she cried, trying to shrink in on herself, tears of fear and hurt streaming down her delicate cheeks, "I don't know what you're talking about!"

Her father slammed her up against the wall with enough force to jar the air from her lungs, "John Coleman was here to see you today and your brother had to lie to him. He's a loyal, hard-working young man, more than you deserve after what I've just heard."

"What?" Drusilla cowered timidly before her father's seething anger.

"Where were you just before dark?" he demanded grabbing her arm again and squeezing it, "Where?!"

"I was on my way back from the market. I bought cakes for Joshua." She struggled ineffectually against his steely grip, "Please, Daddy, you're hurting me!"

His dark eyes narrowed accusingly and he gave her arm another squeeze, "Were you with anyone? Did someone walk with you?"

Drusilla gasped, both from shock and the pain in her arm. He knew! Somehow, her father knew that she had been with Angel in the park! Panic gripped her and her mind began working at a furious pace.

"It was nothing, Daddy, I swear it." She pleaded, fresh tears in her eyes, "I didn't kiss him, I ran away, I did. I ran and -"

Her explanation was cut short by an open-handed slap across her face that knocked her to the floor. Drusilla curled up in terror, clutching her reddened cheek.

"I knew it! Joshua saw you in the midst of your sin!" he kicked her hard in the rear and sent her skidding into her room, "Mucking around in the trees with some boy no one has ever seen before! How dare you!"

"Daddy, no!" Drusilla sat up and covered her head with her arms.

"No more lies! No daughter of mine is going to be tramping around the streets like a whore!" Her father dragged her to her feet and slapped her again across the face, even more forcefully this time, throwing her onto her bed. Turning sharply on his heel, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door thunderously behind him.

Drusilla flinched at the sound, and pressed her face into the embroidered pillow her mother had made for her, bawling until she was almost out of breath. Between ragged tear-choked gasps, she cursed her father for his intolerance, cursed him more for hitting her. She wished the Lord would come down out of the heavens and smite him for what he had done to her. If only she could take back the whole day and start it all over again.

Snuffling and weeping uncontrollably, she didn't notice the figure standing in the darkness outside her window. Angelus' eyes narrowed and his lips thinned, turning upward into a cruel and conniving smirk.

Drusilla did not sleep well that night, her dreams consumed by terrifying images of drowning in an ocean of blood. She sat up in her bed and found that Joshua was already gone, no doubt recovered from his illness and out on the boats for hours by this time.

She slipped out from under her quilt and picked up a small hand mirror. Holding it in front of her face, she gingerly touched her fingers to her bruised cheek, testing for pain. It hurt, but at least the mark was barely noticeable, only a slight darkening that would be invisible to the casual observer.

A chill ran down her spine as she realized how unusually quiet the rest of the house was this morning. Putting down the mirror, she quickly dressed and went into the main room.

Her mother was there, sitting silently at the table, holding her head in her hands. The woman was not old, still younger than thirty-five, but this morning her appearance was haggard and ashen. She sat staring blankly at the table top, completely unaware of her daughter's presence.

"M-Mum?" Dru asked, reaching out to touch her still body with a tentative hand.

The woman only stirred slightly at the contact, inhaling a deep, shuddering breath.

"I told him not to go up to that mine." She lamented, staring blindly and shaking her head slowly with grief, "I knew that evil was alurkin' in those hills the second I heard about them miners. Evil, I tell you."

"Mummy, what's wrong?" Drusilla pulled up a chair and sat down next to the near catatonic woman.

Her mother turned her head and stared at her with red-rimmed, grief-filled eyes, blue like Josua's, "They found him in the street this morning, Drusilla. It must have happened in the wee hours, before he opened the store."

"What?" she asked fearfully, "What happened?"

The woman gently took her daughter's hand and cradled it in her lap with both of her own. Her light blue eyes were dull with grief.

"It's your father, dear. He's dead." She seemed to have to force the words from her mouth, "They found him this morning, said he must have been kicked in the face by a horse or somesuch. Joshua is with undertaker now, seeing to the arrangements."

Drusilla rocked back in her chair, stunned by the news. Just last night, she had wished her father dead and now he was. Had her temperamental imaginings translated into reality? She had thought that after her confession, she would be cured of such evil influence, but it seemed to only have made things worse.

Jerking to her feet, her eyes welling with tears, she bolted for the door. She heard her mother call out after her but she kept running heedlessly. Down the walkway and into the street she ran, trying to escape the terror that threatened to destroy her, her shoes clicking on the hard cobblestones. She kept running until she came to the park she had passed through with the missionary. Ducking under the foliage of a thick stand of trees, she tripped on a small rise in the ground and fell to her knees, scraping the tender skin of one of them against a rough stone.

She didn't bother to get up. Instead, she sank the rest of the way down and laid her tear-stained cheek against the cool grass, crying in regret and loss. Her tears flowed unabated until the sound of nearby footsteps startled her. Quickly sitting up, she choked back her sorrow and wiped furiously at her reddened eyes, trying to focus them.

She lifted her head, her bottom lip quivering, and found Angel standing over her beneath the shade of the thick forest canopy.

"You're crying." He noted softly, crouching down next to her and gently taking her hand in both of his, "What's happened?"

She was so frightened and upset that she threw herself into his embrace and buried her face into his shoulder.

"Oh, Angel, it's terrible! So horrible!" she wailed, "The Devil surely has his hand on my shoulder!"

Above her head, Angel's lips twitched in an ironic smirk and he folded his arms around her shuddering body.

"The Devil?" he asked in a conversational tone.

"Yes! Yes!" she choked and hiccuped through her tears, "I wished it upon him! I was angry and I wished it! And now he's dead!"

She broke down into a series of wracking sobs while he held her and smiled pleasantly to himself over her head.

"Well, he must have done somethin' to you for you to make a wish like that." He patted her back and stroked her hair comfortingly, "Did he hurt ya? You can tell me."

She pulled herself away from him a little and looked up into his face with swollen eyes. Unable to form the words, she simple nodded miserably, fighting back a fresh bout of sobbing.

"Then let me ask you, Drusilla." He stroked his thumb softly across her cheek, brushing away a hot, crystalline tear, "Is it a terrible thing for such an evil man ta perish?"

"W-What?" she sniffed, wiping at her face, "But me Da, he's not evil. He . . . he loved us."

The dark young man turned his eyes skyward in an expression of beatific faith.

"But is it not the Lord's way ta punish those who are deserving?" He gently tapped the tip of his index finger against the tip of her nose and smiled, "Ta smite them?"

Drusilla shifted uncertainly, dropping her eyes to the ground in confusion. What the missionary was saying made sense, but she couldn't believe it. She wouldn't.

"No, not me Da . . ." she whispered.

"Oh, come now, child." He gently chided her, "Evil often wears a pretty face. That's its nature. Why, you could be the most evil of the Devil's spawn and I would never know it."

"N-no, I'm not evil, I'm not, I swear it!" she protested but inside, she wasn't so sure. She had been told in the confessional that she was evil and that there was no choice for her. And the violent death of her father certainly pointed an accusing finger in her direction.

"Of course you're not, Drusilla." He shook his head with a mild smirk, "Forget all this foolishness and let me help ya back on your feet."

She shifted her legs back under herself and squeaked in pain, clapped her hands to her knee and sucking air wetly through her teeth.

"You're hurt." Angel reached out and took the hem of her dress in his hands, "Let me see."

As he began to lift the dress, she instinctively clamped her hands around her ankle and pinned the garment to her leg, regarding him with shock and disapproval.

"What are you afraid of?" he chuckled softly at her prudish behavior, "Am I not a man of the cloth? If I am to help, I must see the wound."

She watched him uncertainly for a moment, staring into his deep, dark eyes, and then slowly relented.

"There, see. That's not so bad now, is it?" he grinned, gradually easing the hem of her dress up around her leg.

Drusilla's breath caught in her throat and her cheeks flushed hotly as his hands edged the dress ever higher up her calf. Wherever his cool fingers were in direct contact with her, they traced pleasant tingling lines along her skin. The sensation seemed to trickle through her entire body, slithering up her thigh and setting her blood on fire. Unconsciously, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, inhaling slow and deeply. His hands continued their gradual, sensuous journey and the dress slipped ever higher until her leg was exposed all the way up to the knee.

"Now isn't THAT a sight?" Angel smirked, eyeing her shapely limb, "You've gone and cut yerself."

Drusilla blinked and swallowed nervously, collecting her senses and focusing her attention on her knee. She recoiled in fear when she saw the smear of crimson staining her skin. Her mouth worked soundlessly and she fluttered her hands before her in distress. The sight of blood had always frightened her.

"Oohhhh, Heavens!" she squeezed her eyes shut and averted her face.

"Oh, it's nothing." Angel assured her, "Just a scratch really. Here, let me take care of it."

He bent forward and tenderly touched his cool lips to the wound, dabbing it softly with the tip of his tongue.

A small gasp of pleasure escaped Drusilla's lips and she felt the flush spread through her entire body, coursing in dizzying waves from that small point of contact. He gently traced the tiny cut with his mouth, pulling on it with mild suction and lightly drawing his teeth along the surrounding skin.

It was like every nerve in her body had a direct connection to the trivial cut on her knee and to the soft lips that gently caressed it. Her breath quickened and her hands twitched in the grass as a wave of overpowering need overtook her, flooding through her bloodstream.

As she arched her back suddenly and released a quiet moan, her fingertips digging unconsciously into the soft earth, he pulled away abruptly and she felt the wonderful connection end. Her eyes snapped open and she lifted her head, panting, and looked to her knee. Completely clean, the wound was almost invisible now.

"There," Angel smiled kindly, standing over her and offering out his hand, "A little kiss to make it better and you're as good as new."

Drusilla swallowed in disorientation and pressed her palm to the base of her throat in an attempt to calm her heavy breathing. A little kiss? Her blood was thrumming through her veins and warm tingles had started in her middle and reached all the way down to her toes. She had never been kissed by a man before, at least not in the way of a man and a woman. Was this how all such kisses felt?

"Yes . . . thank you." She gripped his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She stumbled a bit, weak in the knees, and she wasn't sure whether it was because of the fall or not.

He waited until she steadied herself then smoothed down the sleeves of her dress, taking a half step closer and looking down at her. She wondered if he might try to kiss her again and her heart quickened in anticipation.

"What will you do without yer Da?" he asked.

Drusilla's face flushed with embarrassment. Of course, there would be no kiss. He was only concerned for her well-being, the way all men of the cloth were trained to think. It had been foolish and self-absorbed of her to think his interest fell anywhere but within the boundaries of his occupation.

"I suppose Joshua will have to take care of us now." She shrugged uncertainly, ducking her head to conceal the rosy tinge of her cheeks, "And perhaps I'll become a schoolteacher."

Angel cocked his head slightly and raised his eyebrows with interest.

"Joshua?" he queried politely.

"My baby brother. He works on the fishing boats sometimes." She revealed with a touch of sadness, "He'll have to be working all the time, now that . . .now that . . ." she trailed off and her face became stricken with grief.

Angel reached for her, his eyes warm with dark hunger. The branches overhead shifted in the breeze, letting a tiny, weak beam of sunlight through, and he immediately backed against the bole of the tree.

Drusilla didn't notice the agitated movement and bit her lip worriedly.

"I must be getting back. Me Mum will be worried and we still have to figure out what we'll do with ourselves." She touched his arm gently with her hand then quickly withdrew it, "Thank you for your help, kind missionary."

"Please, call me Angel." He favored her with a friendly smile.

"Angel, then." She agreed, slowly backing away, watching him with a faint smile peeking through her downcast features.

He watched her as she turned and ran through the weak, dappled sunlight, and the hunger gnawed at him from within. She was so sweet, so innocent, he longed to take her now, but he restrained himself again. The game had just begun, no need to spoil it. Too many times, he had killed without thought, gorged before he even understood the nature of his prey. Not this time. A creature such as Drusilla only came along once in a long while. He would take his time with her, savor the experience. For, in the end, it would all pass so fleetingly.

"Joshua." He murmured to himself and sneered, considering. Yes, this was most certainly something to be savored.




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