Author: Kay Tee maybeshedoes@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.oocities.org/maybeshedoes//front.html
Distribution: Take it, but tell me where so I can visit.
Rated: R, for disturbing childhood imagery, near death hijinxs, and sexualish innuendo.
Category: Series (Previous chapters can be found at http://www.oocities.org/maybeshedoes/Eve_front2.html)
Feedback: Please please please
Original Character Warning
Spoilers: Becoming 1 & 2, if you haven't seen those... you're hopeless.
Disclaimer: In my dreams I'm Joss... but during the day I have to face the cold hard truth-- I'm a hack who steals characters. But I'm not giving them back! Or I am, just don't sue me, all I have are speeding tickets and student loans.
Summary: Spike can't take care of Drusilla all by himself, so he gets himself a slave to help. A childhood ends; Eve takes a stand.
Author's Notes: The quotes at the beginning and end are Joss's. He's brilliant in every way and should be worshipped. Same for Tim Minear and Drew Goddard and Jane Espenson and... sigh. I love those guys...
Notes Too: Yeah, it's been more than forever since I wrote, and longer since I've worked on this series. I suck. Kick me.
***
"There are moments in your life that make you, that set the course of who you're gonna be. Sometimes they're little, subtle moments. Sometimes... they're not."
***
The little girl used to sneak out of her house in the middle of the night, crawling out a cellar window into an alleyway. The tiny town where she lived was small, and all the shops were closed shortly after dark. She could float down Central Street in her white flannel nightgown totally unnoticed. The only thing that she really disliked about those nights was the blaringly bright street lights illuminating the ground in front of her. She had turned into the woods once or twice, but they were always full of laughing, drunken teenagers. No, the only dark, quiet place in town was the local cemetery, and so that became her nightly refuge.
She was eight when the news started announcing the daily disappearances of young girls-- usually first or second graders. The girls had apparently been kidnapped right after school without any witnesses. Their bodies turned up a few days later. The little girl had seen pictures on the TV-- official looking men traipsing back and forth around a tiny body, bare from the waist down, with a sheet tastefully laid over the face. Because the girls were all local, the parents of the small town were in an uproar, desperate to protect their children.
The little girl watched all the newscasts. She listened outside the teacher's lounge for rumors about the killings. She continued to go out for her nightly walks to the cemetery, and she thought... she thought about those faceless little bodies, the obscenity of nakedness gone in death. She thought about those little girls whose mothers would never yell at them again, would only weep and mourn for their now perfect daughters. She thought, and she wanted. She didn't know exactly what it was she wanted, but she found herself lingering on the school grounds after class when the rest of the children scurried home with nervous looking mothers or fathers escorting them. Every day she dawdled on her walk from the elementary school back to her house. Every day, nothing unusual happened. The unfulfilled promise of danger began to wear on her nerves. She was vaguely aware of feeling something new and foreign-- a pessimist might call it hope-- but she was too disappointed most of the time to notice.
***
Eve ran the file efficiently over Drusilla's fingernails, sharpening each one into a pretty french manicure with a lethal edge. Dru was distracted, dancing to the dark songs the Earth sings to those who can hear. Eve couldn't hear, and impatiently followed Drusilla's fingers as they swam dreamily through the air.
They were in the main living room, sitting at the hearth and working by the light of the too-hot fire. A few minions mingled about sleepily-- it was mid-day and they should have been in bed. The mansion was humid, the thick curtains kept the air from circulating, and Eve felt lethargic and calm.
Even the heavy stomping of Angelus's booted feet didn't startle her. He stormed into the living room, topless and hair disheveled, but fully dressed from the waist down. He glared around the room, his eyes settling on Eve and Drusilla. "You two," he pointed, then changed his mind, "No, I really need to cripple somebody. Possibly maim." His gaze flashed over the other occupants of the room, all looking suddenly nervous. "You," he singled out a petite blonde fledgling. "Come." He didn't wait to watch her obey-- he just swept out of the room, sending nervous minions scrambling out of his way; one unlucky vamp stumbled into a curtain and fell backwards into a pool of sunlight.
Eve watched dispassionately as flames consumed first the minion and then the curtain and then another minion who'd been standing too close.
"Poor Angel," Drusilla sighed. "He waits and hunts and starves and waits and she never comes." Dru lay back against the warm stone hearth. Eve caught a fluttering hand and held it, her task almost complete. "He wants her..." Drusilla hissed thoughtfully.
Eve didn't look up from her task. "He should just take her already," she muttered.
"But what would be the fun in that?" Angelus smirked from the doorway, making Eve jump.
She frowned. "I thought you were-" She gestured towards the direction he'd left with the fledgling.
Angelus shrugged. "I didn't like her face." He lazily scanned the living room for a fresh victim, the death of the blonde minion having appeased him only temporarily. "Where's Spike?" He finally asked.
Eve shrugged, still intent on Drusilla's manicure. The vampiress answered her sire, "My boy's resting, getting ready for the big day."
"Really." Angelus's tone was unreadable.
"Poor Angel," Drusilla started again, "Can never hurt that nasty slayer. Not like she can hurt herself."
Angelus glared at his insane childe, but his expression quickly cleared. "Did you have a vision, Dru?"
She sighed sorrowfully and shook her head. "It's coming. It's always been coming." She began to squirm fluidly, and Eve gave up chasing the fingers, relaxing while she waited for them to come back to her. "I can feel it, crawling into me, into my blood, into my bones..." Drusilla's writhing had become more erotic, and Angelus stepped closer. "...Into my flesh..." Dru's eyes flashed at her sire. "Just like you." Angelus grinned and slid down over his childe, straddling her slim hips. Dru tipped her head back as he dipped down to scrape fangs over her pale neck. She now looked Eve directly in the eye as she promised, "Nothing will ever be the same." A feral grin stole across her features when Angelus finally sank his teeth into her, and Eve slipped out of the room along with the minions.
***
After three months of terror, school finally ended, and the whole state breathed a sigh of relief. The little girl continued trekking out to the cemetery at night, but was suddenly unsure why she went any more. Then, in the last days of June, another girl disappeared. Molly Cunningham grew up in the little girl's hometown, sat two seats in front of her in art class, and had apparently been abducted from the town beach.
The night after she heard the news, the little girl walked to the cemetery in solemn silence. She sat in front her favorite gravestone-- one with the names of four generations of the dead carved on it and plenty of space for more-- and she cried. It was a depressingly unsatisfying thing, noisy and wrinkled, and it made her feel so selfish, she stopped before she really got into it. She was wiping the tears from her face-- destroying the evidence-- when she heard a quiet curse behind her.
She turned carefully and peered into the darkness. A man with his arms full was picking his way across the cemetery towards the nearby park. He was mumbling something to himself about needing a new gig, and her curiosity wouldn't permit her to *not* follow him.
The man easily picked his way through the cemetery's main path and into the park. He bypassed the jungle gym and swing sets, setting his burden down by the hedges at the edge of the baseball diamond. The little girl kept a good distance, her bare feet sweeping silently through the damp grass, but when he stopped she edged closer, taking advantage of the darkness. She wanted to see what he carried, but honestly, she already knew what it would be. She was nine years old now, and still a child, but not at all stupid.
Well, not very stupid. Ignorant, maybe. Foolish, yes. The man was a vampire, and when he looked up from Molly Cunningham's body, he stared at the source of the heat and heartbeat he'd been tracking as it followed him effortlessly through the darkness.
At the sight of his game face, the little girl expressed the total lack of surprise only made possible by a child's imagination and complete suspension of disbelief.
He watched in confusion as she reached out and traced the bumps and dips on his face. Finally, he drew back and asked, "What's your name, then?"
She noted his strange accent with the same touch of interest she'd given his glowing yellow eyes. "I'm Carolyn Marx," she offered.
"Yeah?" He smiled, standing slowly. "What you doing out here, hmm?"
She shrugged. "I always come here. Well, there," she pointed to the cemetery.
"That right?" The vampire asked, still a little unnerved by this tiny, confident girl.
She nodded absent-mindedly, stepping closer to get a better look at Molly's body. It was naked from the waist down, but the face wasn't covered yet, and the eyes looked like they were stuck open. "Is she dead?" The little girl asked.
"Er, yeah." The vampire watched her shift closer and closer to the body. "Hey, you can touch her if you want."
The little girl smiled at him. "Yeah?" She reached a tentative hand out and brushed it over Molly's leg. "She's cold," the girl murmured.
The vampire shrugged. "That happens when you die."
"Did you kill her?" The little girl's hand continued to roam cool skin.
"Naw, a lady friend of mind did her." The vampire watched the little girl's hand move down one leg and up the other before he asked, "So, where d'you live?"
She pulled away from the body to point down Central Street. "Down there." She studied him for a moment. "How come your face looks like that?"
"Like what?" The vampire let his features shift to a prettier, if no less intimidating-- under normal circumstances-- guise. She watched all this and shrugged.
"Like it looked before. Can my face do that?" She put her hands to her temple and squeezed, trying to reshape it.
The vampire laughed and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. "Sure, your face can do that. If you let me show you how."
She chewed her lip thoughtfully, studying the vampire's hands now they were close enough to see. "You're cold," she finally noticed. "You feel just like Molly. Are you dead too?"
"Clever girl," the vampire murmured, tucking the little girl's hair behind one ear and pulling her against him.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
The vampire kissed her neck, sending shivers through her. Suddenly his touch was very unpleasant. "I'm going to make you like me," he promised. "Going to keep you."
She squirmed a little, pushing against him. "No, that's okay. I think I'm gonna go home now."
The vampire's grip tightened and she angrily bit him hard on his chin, drawing blood. "Frisky bit of stuff," the vampire exclaimed, pleased. His grip loosened, allowing her to kick him in the shin. That was annoying, and he sighed, "Hey, hey now, stop it. Stop it. I won't hurt you too much."
The little girl took a deep breath, glaring at the vampire in the darkness, trying to stare him down. He took the opportunity to observe her rather lovely features. She'd probably be very beautiful someday... "I'll tell you what," the vampire offered, "we'll make a deal. I won't change you, if you'll do something for me."
Her head tilted sideways as she considered his proposal. Finally, she asked, "What do you want me to do?"
***
The night brought with it a cool wind. Eve tied the curtains back from every window and the air that swept through the mansion on the heels of departing minions was sweet. The slave stood in the courtyard, just enjoying the breeze, when Drusilla strolled through on her way to breakfast. Eve easily calculated that the only vampires left in the mansion were Angelus and Spike, both still sleeping.
She took the stairs two at a time, letting herself into Spike's spartan chamber and tying back his curtains. Cool air easily swept the stale smell of death out of the room, and Eve jumped indelicately onto Spike's bed. She lay on top of him, the blankets between them, and licked first his left and then his right eyelid.
"What the hell are you doing?" Spike mumbled sleepily, wiping his eyes dry before opening them.
Eve grinned. "I'm waking you up."
"Really." Spike looked singularly unimpressed. "And what makes you think I would want to be anything other than unconscious this evening?"
Eve inhaled deeply. "The air tonight. It's wonderful. I didn't want you to miss it."
Spike fought down a smile, rolling over in bed, careful not to shake off Eve's warm body. "I'm a hundred some odd years old. Air no longer impresses me. Also, I don't breathe."
Eve sat up, silently triumphant when she heard Spike grumble a protest. "Yes, you're very old and impressive and whatever. Get up. Come outside before Angelus wakes up."
That got Spike's attention; he sat up. "Angel's still asleep?" He asked in disbelief. The older vampire was not known for indulging in a lot of shut-eye.
Eve shrugged uncaringly. "He was up before. He killed some minions, got laid, probably tortured somebody. Now he's asleep. Get up." Eve grinned. "C'mon, share my rare good mood." She tugged a less and less reluctant Spike's arm. "You're already half vertical, you might as well go all the way."
Spike chuckled and lifted Eve by her hips, depositing her in his wheelchair while he stumbled around the room, collecting clothes off the floor and dressing.
Eve was surprised by how comfortable Spike's chair was-- the thought made her stand quickly. The large leather seat seemed to promise a wide assortment of unpleasant things, and she wanted away from it. She felt a brief flicker of pity for Spike; he had no choice but to ride around in the damn thing all the time.
They made their way downstairs and into the courtyard. Eve retrieved the day's paper for Spike to read while she sprawled out on the grass, moonbathing. Spike paid less attention to the headlines than to Eve's recumbent form. Dressed in a black top and blue jeans, her scars barely visible from this angle, the girl looked fresh and alive. Not quite healthy, but lovely all the same. "Tell me something," Spike ordered fondly.
Eve sighed. "Now?"
"Now." Spike frowned; was it so hard for her to be open with him? He was having a friggin' moment here.
Eve looked at Spike warily before starting her short tale. "Once, a long time ago, I couldn't appreciate a good breeze like I can now. And then, later, a big bad- well, kinda skinny and a little on the short side, but definitely bad-- vampire kidnapped me and made me starch his shirts and stuff." Spike snorted. "Now I like the air. I like cotton and clothes that have no blood stains yet..." She glanced down her body and realized that the cuffs of her jeans were dotted with little maroon spots. "...much. I like peace and quiet and privacy, at least, I imagine I would, if I ever had those sorts of things." She shot a pointed look at Spike, who didn't seem to care. "Now... now I'm hungry." Eve stood up, brushing herself off.
Spike was indignant. "What, that's it? End of story, see you later?"
Eve shrugged. "Was resting, now I'm hungry. Wanna get food before Angelus wakes up. What's the big deal?"
"The deal is, you woke me up to come outside and *not* breathe the air with you, and now you're taking off." Spike was practically sulking.
"Come with me." Eve matched the glare Spike gave her at that. "Look, there's nothing going on at all right now; Sunnydale is dead. Just come out if you're bored. Hell, everyone's bored."
Spike drummed his fingers on the armrest of his wheelchair. "Forgetting something, Pet?" He inquired with a casual tone to mask his growing irritation.
"Bring it," Eve answered carelessly.
Spike was on his feet and pressing her into a wall in a moment. "Watch yourself," he warned.
Eve huffed. "Fuck save me from crabby vampires."
"I am not *crabby*," Spike insisted. "I am fucking livid."
Eve squirmed in his grasp. "You're not livid, you're just annoyed."
Spike let her go. "Fine. But I'm in want of some decent violence, and there's fuck all to be had out there with the minions trotting all over town."
Eve stared at Spike, and he stared at her. After a full minute, he slumped back into his chair. "Go on, have a good time. I hope Angelus *eats* you when he finds out you've gone."
Eve started forward to kiss Spike's cheek, but stopped herself. "You won't tell on me," she said with absolute certainty.
"Really," Spike scowled, "and what makes you think I wouldn't wake Angel just to spite you?"
Eve answered from the top of the stairs on her way out, "Because you want me to come back."