Title: Prezzie
Author: Jinni (druscilla@cox.net)
Rating: PG13
Pairing: W/Drusilla
Genre: BtVS
Disclaimer: All things BtVS/AtS belong to Joss Whedon, etc.
Distribution: WLF, WLS, BMP, NHA
Notes: Holiday Quickie #6. Pairing #109 at The Quickie Challenge.
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WitchsLoveFanfic/files/quick.html

~*~

Willow pulled at the strap of her tank top, mentally cursing it one more time for not having the decency to stay put. She shifted the books in her arms to a more comfortable position and continued on her way down the sidewalk. Summer term was currently in session at college, and she had just finished up with her study group. The group’s time had gone just slightly over, causing her to walk through the dark campus alone rather than with Buffy, who was probably already in her own night class by now.

There was a whisper of air to the left. The witch whirled, expecting to see that a jogger had just passed her by. But there was nothing there. Not a person in sight. She frowned, turning her eyes back to the path.

Never seeing the punch that was coming towards her face.

She fell to the ground, crying out in pain, darkness coming in at the edges of her consciousness even as she struggle to fight it off. She could see her attackers now. Three of them. Vampires, by the ugliness of their faces.

"This is her? The little bitch that helped stake Jeff and Ray?"

"How could it not be? Red hair. Green eyes."

"Wanna have a little fun with her before we take her back to the Mistress?"

"She won’t like that."

There was a sound that Willow registered dimly as a ‘who cares’; and then feet were slamming into her. Kicking her ribs, her stomach. She curled into the tightest ball she could, trying to protect herself from the pain raining down upon her. This only drew their attention to her back and she arched in surprise as their stinging kicks impacted dully.

Finally, pain granted her release in the form of blessed unconsciousness.

~*~

"Let me go . . . please."

"Is that what you want, my tree?"

"Yes."

"Why? You’re already dying. The little drops of blood are pooling on your insides. Like puddles in your tummy. You won’t live through the night."

"But –" The woman on the floor gasped as another bout of pain wracked through her small body. She wanted to curl up, tuck her knees to her chest and sob. The chains on her wrists and feet prevented that, of course. So all she could do was cry, quietly, watching through cloudy eyes as her captor swayed back and forth before her, dancing to music only she could hear.

"Shh." The other woman murmured, leaning down to place a finger over her captive’s lips. "Rest, now. All will be better soon. Mummy’s going to give you a prezzie for Christmas."

The injured woman wanted to remind the insane creature before her that she didn’t want a present and that it was June, no where near Christmas, but instead she found herself just struggling to breath.

"They weren’t supposed to hurt you, pretty Red. Just bring you to me to play with. To cuddle and call my dolly."

"Dru ---"

"Yes, Willow mine?"

"Pain –" The red head gasped out. "Just kill me. . . hurts. . . too . . . much."

Drusilla blinked in surprise at the lovely woman slumped so inelegantly before her. Kill her? Didn’t she understand? Everything was going to be okay. She’d make her all better and then dress her nice. Spikey would have a sister. And she’d have a new daughter to love her until the end of time. A pretty baby girl to play dress up with and have tea parties.

"Shhh. . ." The vampire murmured again. She slid all the way to her knees now, clucking softly in regret that her dress would get sullied like this, on the ground. Couldn’t be helped, though. Her little tree was wilting before her eyes, slipping away into the shadow lands to play forever and always.

She wrapped cold arms around the still warm flesh of the other woman’s shoulders, raising one hand to gently tilt her head to the side, exposing the pale expanse of her unblemished neck.

Willow stiffened in Drusilla’s arms as the woman’s teeth sank slowly into her flesh. It was pain accompanied by pleasure, though; and it took aware the nagging aches of her internal wounds, the ones that would have killed her had Drusilla not decided to speed her along. She breathed out, exhaling the air she had been holding unknowingly in her lungs. This was good, almost pleasant. If she had to die, why not like this, surrounded by that warm, happy glow that came along with the bite of a creature such as the one who’s arms she was currently, slowly, dying in. She took another, shuddering breath, feeling her life’s blood seep away, providing sustenance and nourishment to the one that was surely killing her.

Another breath later and she knew, even as darkness closed in around her, that it was the last breath she would ever draw.

"Drink. . . Willow mine . . . That’s right . . . Drink . . ."

The voice floated to the edge of Willow’s fading consciousness. Reality had abandoned her, though, and the words made no sense. She gave herself up to the arms of death, a willing partner to escape the pain her last hour had become.

~*~

She woke thirsting, craving something that at that moment still had no name. She was like a baby, hungry and weak, purely instinctual desires and needs.

"She’s awake. Get the Mistress."

The red head narrowed her eyes, glaring across the room at the one that had spoken even as a second slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. This one seemed familiar. Bad things radiated off of him. He had . . . hurt . . .her. Before. Before someone made it better.

And yet, he was standing there, looking at her with disgust.

Disgust?

How dare he!

She was off the bed and had him pushed against the wall before he could even cry out. Her fingers came up, tightening around his throat until not even the smallest whimper could escape. His hands pushed at her, and she could tell he was trying to fight. But he was weak . . . ‘minion’. . . and she was strong . . . ‘childe’. She could feel his blood begin to seep out from the holes her nails were making in his neck. It felt good, warm and sticky. Leaning up, her tongue caught the edge of one of the trickles, lapping at the small snack greedily.

"Let. . . go. . ." He managed to gasp.

"You hurt me. . . earlier. . . at school." It was all coming back to her now. Along with an unholy rage to hurt him for the pain he had willingly inflicted upon her. Hadn’t her Sire said. . . amidst it all . . . that they were not supposed to hurt her?

"S- Sor-ry. . " Another gasp of breath to shove out the words around a throat that was slowly being crushed.

"Sorry." Willow purred, laying her body alongside his, pressing him flush against the wall. "Sorry doesn’t make it better."

She released him with a flourish, stepping back to glare balefully at him. Her eyes were hooded, closed.

"Bored now."

She lashed out, her hand sliding easily into the flesh of his chest, inhuman strength coming naturally to her as she wrapped her hand around that pulsing object she sought. She twisted, ripping his heart free from its connections, watching as his face registered shock – and then nothing at all, dust settling to the floor where he had once been.

"Good girl."

Willow turned, her eyes narrowing at the woman in the doorway before the demon within her made the connection.

"Sire."
"Mummy." Drusilla corrected. "Always mummy."  There was a soft smile on her lips as she drifted into the room, staring eagerly at the heart Willow still held. "Such a good girl. Already. No one will hurt you ever again, will they, Precious."

"Never again." Willow nodded, closing her eyes in pleasure as her Sire’s fingers danced lightly over her shoulder. She was still so hungry, and the ache seemed to be growing.

"Drink."

The red head gasped, her true face coming to the fore at the sight of her Sire’s neck, now bared before her. The open invitation was too much for even the most powerful of the newly risen, and Willow sank into her ‘Mummy’s’ embrace, her teeth finding purchase in the exquisite softness of flesh for the first time. She drank deeply, tasting what remained of her human blood mingling with the other flavors of her Sire. She moaned into the flesh, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of the filling liquid.

It seemed an eternity before she pulled away and when she did she was sated.

"Such a good Childe." Drusilla sing-songed, smoothing down Willow’s hair. "Do you like your prezzie, Willow mine?"

The red head smiled, licking a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth.

And that wicked grin was all the answer Drusilla needed.

~*~The End~*~