A wee snippet.

[angelchicken]

Wesley, Gunn, Angel and Spike are in Angel’s office. Wesley looks grim, and the other men reflect it, unsurely. They know something is bad. They don’t know what.

Wesley sighs reluctantly and then looks at Angel and Spike in quick succession before turning his attention – briefly – to the eight by ten photo in his hand.

“It’s obviously a deliberate message,” he states, his voice devoid of all emotion. He hands the photo to Angel who glances at it stone faced and passes it to Spike.

It’s a girl. Five, maybe; definitely no more than six. She is seated, propped against a wall. Her hands - peeking out of the ruffled, lacy sleeves of her old-fashioned high necked dress - are clasped demurely on her pale pink pinafore. Spike can see her white bloomers, long enough that they band at her ankles. She’s wearing thick tights under the bloomers and her feet are covered in lamb skin Mary Jane’s.

Long golden ringlets are partially covered by a bonnet - the same material as her blue and green dress - that lies tight against her head and is tied with a large, perfect bow.

It's her eyes. Spike knows her eyes. Saw them in every tantrum, every coo for comfort, every time he had to make a mad run for his life. "Spike. Don't forget my girls. Spike, we want to have a party. Spike, can you kiss her better? How could they have not seen this coming?

The girls eyes are covered with a black silk scarf and tears of blood trail down her porcelain face, past the coral bow of her lips and into her dress.

Spike doesn’t even realize Gunn has taken the picture from him until he hears a soft “Damn”.

The picture ends up back with Wesley who hides it in a manila folder. They won’t need to see it to remember it.

There is silence for a few minutes as the men digest what they have seen and what this means.

“You know who did this.” There isn’t even a hint of a question in the statement Wesley directs at Angel.

“Yeah.”

“Should have killed her when I had the chance,” Spike whispers to himself, probably not even aware he spoke out loud.

“It’s my fault,” Angel reassures, and it does nothing but piss Spike off. But before he can reply it’s Gunn’s turn to question.

“What are you talking about? Who did this?”

“Drusilla.”

The three voices speak as one, each with horrified conviction.

Gunn, who doesn’t know enough of the history between Drusilla and Angel, turns to Spike. “You mean the sick bitch who would desecrate a child like this was the great love of your life?”

Spike can tell he is disgusted and, in all honesty, absolutely understands the hint of distain he hears. But he isn’t going to carry the burden of Dru on his own.

“I cared for her, Ghetto; maybe you should be directing some of that righteous indignation towards her sire.”

Gunn’s eyes cut to Angel.

“You have something to do with this?”

“I may have . . . had a part, in her current . . . condition,” Angel allows. It isn’t that he doesn’t think he deserves the blame. He knows he does. But he still has problems discussing Angelus with anyone, and it hurts so damn badly to keep feeling the weight of his sins. When will his penance be over?

Spike snorts. “Sure. I’m sure Darla had a brilliant time lying about while you stalked Dru and her family. I can her here now ‘Angelus, I’m bored. Can’t you just drive her crazy after you turn her?’”

“You couldn’t have killed her, Spike.” Angel ignores the jab. He has found that selective hearing is his best option when it comes to William the Bloody.

“Had the opportunity. Had the motive, sort of. And I bloody fucking let her get away.”

“You couldn’t have killed her any more than she could have killed me,” Angel continues over him.
"It’s not who you are. Were.”

“I had her tied to a post. I had a stake to her chest. One fucking push and it would have been done. Easy as that. But I was too involved with Buffy.”

Spike is obviously visibly upset, furious with himself and Wesley and Gunn take a step back before the vampire gets violent. Soul or not, pissed off Spike is not fun.

“Should have put her in the manacles.”

“What?” Angel’s confused now, but he doesn’t get a direct response from Spike. Instead he gets:

“Manacles. Dru. I mean, it was such a dice roll with her. And I knew that Buffy would be out of the ropes in no time. At least with Dru there was the possibility that she would be confused enough that she wouldn’t think to break through the ropes. There was no way to hold Buffy without the chains,” he works out to himself, though Angel can hear him clearly. Spike’s pacing now, but Angel stops him with heavy hand on his shoulder.

Now it’s Angel’s turn for fury. Spike can tell by his looming a bit more than usual. Also, when he speaks, his words are stilted; bitten out through clenched teeth.

“You. Had Buffy. In manacles?”

Spike smirks, knowingly.

“More than once.”


Edited because I wasn't happy with one wee smidgen. So I fixed it.

Comments

[jaybitvees.livejournal.com]

Hee! Love this. Thank you.

[angelchicken.livejournal.com]

Your welcome! I'm happy you liked it! Thanks for the feedback.

Your icon is fabulous.

[jaybitvees.livejournal.com]

Thanks: icon is made by exchanged.

Are you going to be adding to the wee snippet?

[angelchicken.livejournal.com]

Probably not this particular snippet, but I do occasionally post other snippets. And ficlets. I just started writing, though, so I can't say they are necessarily good.

But I enjoy it. :)

[jaybitvees.livejournal.com]

Keep 'em coming and I'll be reading. =)