Summary: D/A(us), before she was insane.
Spoilers: Minor through the series. Mostly through Becoming.
Disclaimer: Joss made these freaky characters, but I like to make them cry
Rating: R
Feedback: It's always nice. Unless it's mean. In which case I will laugh
at you.
Thanks to Tracy, the best beta reader and friend that there is.

Shiver in the Cold

by: Amy


He wanted her. More than life, more than hope, more than anything good. She
was the perfection that surrounded the night, she was the pale, lustrous,
glowing moon and the stars that showered overhead. She was innocence and
passion. A thrilling mix of contrasts.

She hypnotized him.

He wanted her, that dark hair that shimmered in the light from the night sky,
casting it with a blue sheen. She was all that was fair and decent and good.
And he wanted to change that.

He called her out of her bed one morning, long before sunrise, looking in her
window at her silky hair lying spread across her pillow. "Drusilla..."

She jolted in her sleep, her eyes popping open as if she hadn't really been
dreaming after all, as if it were impossible for her to do with such a
hurried mind. He said her name again.


She sat up, pushing the sheets off of her roughly, looking around her barren
room in fear. Picking up the doll that she had thrown off of her bed while
she dreamt, she crept over to the window and peeked out.

Seeing his face, she opened her mouth to shriek and then quickly closed it
when he smiled gently at her. It was a smile of seduction, something
practiced and warm and able to elicit trust from the most untrusting of
people. His teeth flashed in the dark, and Drusilla found herself smiling
back, almost as if her mind had been taken under control by this dark,
mysterious, beautiful man.

His mouth moved next but no sounds came out, and she tilted her head, trying
to understand what his heart was saying. ~~Come to me...~~

Nodding quickly, she flew out of her room and silently down the steps of her
home, her hair flowing behind her. In her bare feet and thin white shift,
she opened the door and let herself out, glorying in the feel of the dewed
grass underneath her as she slowed her pace to a walk.

And suddenly he was before her, shining that smile once again. Drusilla felt
her heart dip in her chest and she bowed her head a little, hiding her own
willing grin, realizing that she was in her night clothes.

"I am not decent, Sir," she whispered, blushing furiously at her own lack of

"You are decent enough for me," he said back, following her hushed voice with
his own. "You are perfection, my sweet Drusilla."

At length, she looked back up and sucked in her breath when his dark eyes
pierced her own. Need, she saw instantly, overwhelming, frightening need,
and something like love. Peering a little closer, she also saw something
dark, and unwilling to be seen.

"Are you an angel?" she asked in a small voice.

The man laughed, baring his white teeth again and nodded. "Yes and no,
child. My name happens to be Angel, but my soul... That is a different story
altogether, one that I'll tell you sometime."

"I'll see you again, then?" she asked hopefully, too eagerly.

He brushed a stray strand of her black hair out of her eyes and let his hand
slip farther down her neck to play with the pleat in her hair. Drusilla
trembled, biting her lip, staring at his face, a face so full of passion and
secrets. His fingers let go of the braid and danced over the creamy flesh of
her collarbone before his lowered his head and kissed her mouth lightly.

"I'll make sure of it," Angel said. Then he turned and was gone in the mist
before she could call out after him.

Night after night she wrestled with her dreams, and day after day would have
to confess the sinful nature of them to her priest.

"The man, the Angel," she would whisper to him, ashamed, "Visits me in my
sleep, touching me. Father, I do not wish these dreams to come, but he is so
enticing. I feel that he has taken over my heart, and I'm lost in what his
hopes are. I am drowning, Father," she cried, covering her eyes in the dark
of the confessional.

"How does he touch you, My Child?" the priest would ask gently, in a voice
that lingered on her mind. "Does he touch you... Intimately? Do you like

Her voice wavered. "I didn't want to like it, Father," she swore
passionately, "but he-- he's made me. He's made me want him. I feel I am
going mad."

"Oh, My Child," he said in a silky voice, "Do not despair. It is not a sin
to carry fire in your body for a man...."


"Do you not believe *me*, your *priest?*" he asked heatedly, an Irish lilt
coming into his words. "The Bible is what carries your heart, and I need to
inform you that not all of it is true. Lust after this man, want him, give
yourself to him completely. And then, My Child, only then, will you have
peace." He paused and then abruptly asked, "Are you still having the dreams
that show you the future? What do you see of yours?"

Drusilla leaned in, her heart beginning to beat rapidly. "Oh, it is the most
terrible thing. Mother tells me to put it out of my mind, that it was never
really there to begin with, but I cannot see my future! And perhaps I should
be grateful for that, but it feels that there is an emptiness inside of me.
Forgive me, Father, for wanting that touch, for craving what I know is evil?"

His voice became sharp and she tried to look at him through the screen, but
he moved back. "I will tell you when something is evil, do you understand

"Yes, Father," she whispered meekly.

"There now," he soothed. "Do not worry. Keep dreaming, and wanting this
man-- love him with all that is within you and do not despair over the loss
of your touch." She nodded quickly and started to depart, but his words
caught her. "Drusilla..."

"Yes, Father?"

"Three Hail Mary's and five Our Fathers for your sins this time. More to
come if you do not obey me."

She hastily nodded and left, tremors overtaking her skin.

That very night, as she rolled in her bed and allowed the dreams to overtake
her, she saw him again. He was standing in the gray fog, staring at her with
those eyes, eyes cold and hot at the same time. He stretched out his hand.
~~Come to me...~~

She nodded, and walked for him, catching his hand in her own. He took their
entwined fingers and slid them down her belly to her hip and it was only then
that Drusilla realized that she was nude.

~~I am not proper, Sir.~~ her heart whispered.

~~You are proper enough for me.~~ Angel whispered back, and her heart sang.

Meeting his eyes, dark cold eyes, Angel eyes, she managed a smile, though
chilled to the very bone. ~~Do you love me?~~

~~It's more than love now, Drusilla,~~ he said, almost angrily. ~~It's

She lifted her head in something akin to understanding and allowed his hand
to slip up to her bare breast, pinching the nipple roughly until it tightened
and puckered underneath his skilled fingers. ~~Let me come in...~~

~~Yes...~~ she moaned, shaking. ~~Come in...~~

A sound came at her left and her eyes snapped open, looking at him as he
stood above her, the lace of the curtain flying in the night's wind.
Drusilla's eyes rounded and she began to lift the blanket over her slim form,
but Angel caught it and tore it away. His smile was no longer gentle, it was
feral, grim. It had been a dream, a peaceful dream, she realized. Reality
was determined the make her pay for her sins.

"You love me," she said, scared but managing to keep her voice from wavering.

"I need you," he corrected for the second time. Getting to his knees beside
her on the mattress, he pinned her arms above her head roughly and captured
her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it through the cloth. It hardened
instantly, and Drusilla clenched her eyes closed in shame.

Taking his mouth off of her, looked up at her and snapped, "Open your eyes."
A tear slid out of her eye as she complied, focusing her gaze on her
childhood doll, Edith. His mouth descended once again on her breast and he
bit, licking the blood the leaked out and groaning. Drusilla wept as he
climbed atop her and hiked her nightdress up to her stomach.

"It's enough that you love *me*," he grunted, sliding inside her tight
passage harshly. "Pure, innocent, clean. Not so pure, not so innocent, not
so clean." His neck arched and Drusilla let her hand creep up to touch it to
focus her mind off the feeling of him moving inside of her. Pain, yes so
much pain, but pleasure too, a fact that mortified her very soul.

"Angel?" she asked. Closing her eyes, she slipped into blessed

She was dreaming again, she knew it immediately. Angel's hand cupped her
chin and she looked up at him, this time with nothing but horror across her

~~You have no soul.~~

He grinned lightly. ~~Aye, I have no soul. Nor do I happen to want one.~~

~~But you *love* me!~~ her heart insisted, falling when he shook his head

~~Not love. Need. Need. Do you understand, my sweet Drusilla?~~

Her voice was small, a child's voice. ~~No. I'll see you again, then?~~ she
asked fearfully.

A spark came into his eyes and he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her with
all the roughness that had marked his coupling, forcing her mouth open and
thrusting his tongue in, raking at her lips with his teeth. His hand slid up
to her breast again, and he played with it until she finally gave into the
sensations she was battling and cried out into the kiss.

Taking his mouth off of hers and his hand off of her skin, he stepped back
and looked at her evenly. ~~I'll make sure of it.~~

He disappeared from her mind and she knew that it was a dream. Nothing more
than a dream, and that perhaps she had dreamed the whole night.

But still a thrill of fear flew down her spine.

And she shivered in the cold.

The End


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