TITLE: Cuppa AUTHOR: ElaineMc / emc@socket.net RATING: G SPOILERS: "School Hard" DISCLAIMER: I don't own BtVS or Willow. Joss Whedon and the WB do. NOTES: This idea comes from a recent post on SunS wondering what might happen if two of the female characters met. Naturally, I've "thanked" them within the story....I refuse, BTW, to try and write Spike and Dru's dialect [Although I have tried to reproduce Drucilla's intonations.]. It'd be too '50s. Willow ducked behind yet another bush and stayed there, trying to catch her breath. That last close call had been a little *too* close. If she didn't figure out a plan soon, she was toast. Who *was* this girl, anyway? She wasn't dressed like any other vampire Willow had ever seen; she wore a white dress that looked like something off of the cover of a Jo Beverly novel. Her voice didn't have an American accent; but it didn't sound like Giles' cultured British tones, either. Willow had a mental image of the two of Giles saying sternly, "Repeat after me, please. 'The lady often slays on rainy days.' " Willow suppressed a giggle. Then the Voice reached her ears again. "All around the mulberry bush, The monkey chased the weasel...." *I'd better not be around when she goes 'Pop!',* Willow decided. *Of all the nights for Buffy to be elsewhere...! Oh, that's not fair. She deserves some downtime if anyone does. It isn't *her* fault Sunnydale's ansewr to Ophelia picked tonight to hunt.* Moving as quietly as she could, Willow slipped out from behind her shrub. A quick survey of the immediate area showed no sign of the wacko. Maybe her luck was changing. *Okay. All I have to do is make it home. Less than four blocks, I can do that. Besides, Mom's expecting me, right? I told her I'd be done at the library and home by ten, and if I'm late -again-, she'll ground me. Well, okay, she probably won't, but it's the thought that counts. I mean, I always do what people expect me to do, I never get in trouble, I behave myself in public--* Willow cut off her internal monologue. It occurred to her that it was much... too... quiet. "Uh-oh." "...pop! goes the weasel." The two girls, living and otherwise, faced each other. A light wind stirred their hair, tugged at the hem of the vampire's gown. "Little girls oughtn't to be out at night," sighed the vampire, her eyes distant, unfocussed. "It's terrible dangerous." "You're absolutely right I couldn't agree with you more thanks for reminding me I'll just be on my way." Willow took a step back. "Yessssss. With me." The vampire was a pale blur-- and that was that. Willow's head hurt, and so did her arms. She opened her eyes cautiously-- and caught back a scream. She was in a dimly lit room, decorated in lace and pink silk. Her arms were stretched over her head, bound together with rope, and hooked to a chain dangling from the ceiling. Everywhere she looked, her eyes met the glassy stare of a doll. They sat and stood on every surface, neatly arranged. They wore costumes of velvet, trimmed with lace and furs and feathers, wearing elaborate hats on their shining, ringletted hair. Off to the side, she could see a canopied bed, all in pink and lace, with a bedside table next to it. A vanity table, in more of the lace, stood a bit beyond it. Directly in front of Willow stood a small table, with four chairs arranged around it. The tablecloth covering it was pristine white linen, with matching napkins laid out. On the table was a tea-set, painted with rosebuds and ivy vines, tiny silver spoons, and a plate with nothing on it. Willow reminded herself that vampires didn't eat solid food, and immediately wished she hadn't. The vampire girl swished into the room. She had changed into yet another romance-novel costume, still white with an Empire bodice, but dripping with lace frills and pink ribbons. She wore dainty lace mitts, as well, and her hair had been piled up onto her head a la Greque. "We're goin' to have a *tea*-party," she said, picking up three of her dolls. "Lizabeth, you sit *there*; and Christina, you sit *here*; and Maureen, you can sit right *here*." Taking up the teapot, she poured out what seemed to be real tea, adding sugar and cream. She seated herself with a pretty flourish of her skirts, and lifted her cup and saucer. "How did you *thea*tre, Christina? I'm *so* glad. D'you want a cake, Maureen? Oh, *do* 'elp yourself." She sipped her tea demurely, carrying on a one-sided conversation with the dolls until Willow was about to scream. She must have made some kind of sound, anyway, because the vampire looked up, reminded of her captive's existence. "Oh, *dear*. I'm bein' *rude*." In a rush of white muslin and pink ribbons, the vampire freed Willow's arms, sat her down at the table, poured her a cup of tea, and resumed her own seat. "*Do* forgive me," the vampire said, smiling sweetly. "Let me introduce you to my other guests, Miss...?" "Willow Rosenberg," she said weakly, more than a little stunned at the Cabinet of Dr Caligari turn the whole night was taking. "Willow. Wha' a pretty name. I'm Drucilla." Willow shook Drucilla's slim, cold hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you," she said with automatic courtesy. "Likewise. Now...." She introduced her dolls, waiting each time for Willow's polite reply. "Does your tea need sugar, Miss Rosenberg?" Very, very reluctantly, Willow sipped from her cup, relieved beyond thought to find that it contained nothing worse than lukewarm camomile tea. "NO, it's just fine, thank you." "I'm *so* pleased," Drucilla replied. "Now, Miss Rosenberg-- or may I call you Willow?" "Willow is good," she said, eyes wide. *How am I going to get out of -this- one??* "*Thank* you. And you'll call me Dru, won't you? GOod. Now, Willow, we were talking about the theatre. Christina attended *Medea* last night. Do *you* like the theatre?" "Uh... sometimes. I like comedies." Willow winced as she finished speaking. *She says Medea, you say comedy. Nice work. All this time hanging around with Xander, and you still can't bluff....* But Dru's eyes had lit up like a pinball machine. "Oh, so do *I*. I a*dore* Mister Wilde, don't you?" "I just adore him," Willow agreed instantly, but Dru had already moved on. Strangely, Willow wasn't bothered by the vampire's rapid changes of subject; it reminded her of the way she thought, sometimes. "Don't you like my dollies?" she asked. "They're very pretty," Willow said, smiling and nodding. *I probably look like I'm a few volumes short of an OED. Well, when in Rome....* "Do *you* have any dollies?" Dru asked. "Maybe you can bring them over, and we can *all* have a tea-party...!" "Oh, no, no, no. I don't have any. Not any more." "But aren't you *lone*ly? *I'd* be lonely without *my* friends," Dru said, shaking her head in pity. "Well...." "Oh! we're out of tea! I'll get more!" Dru caught up the teapot and hurried out. Willow sat very still for a moment, so surprised that she didn't even think to look for a way to escape for a moment. And thoughts of escape vanished the next instant, as the door swung open and someone new walked in. His clothing was black; his short-cropped hair was nearly as white as his skin. "Well, look 'ere," he said, almost reassuringly, with the same accent Dru had, "Dru's left me a bit of a snack." The soft wickedness in his voice froze Willow in place. As he circled her, moving out of her range of vision, her skin crawled. Gentle, cold fingers brushed her neck, tugged at her hair. *I would like to go home now, please,* she thought, panicked. "She's even left a cup for me. What a sweet girl," he whispered. He leaned down, and his lips brushed her skin. Willow reached into her pocket for her keys. Maybe she could at least do a *little* damage before.... "Spike! wha're you doin'?" Dru demanded as she flounced back into the room, teapot in hand. "Just havin' a drink, Princess," the man replied, sulkily. "Not from Willow, you're not," she scolded him. "She's my friend. You can't drink her blood. It'd be imp'lite, like." "Your friend...?" Spike sounded as surprised as Willow felt. "My friend." She poured another cup for Spike and sat down again. A thought came to Willow. "I hate to seem rude, but I really have to get home. My mother's waiting for me...." The smirk on Spike's face made her blood go icy. The smirk disappeared as quickly as it came when Dru stood quickly. "Oh, now, can't 'ave that. If you don't get 'ome on time, she mightn't let you come again. Come on, Spike. We're going to see Willow safe 'ome." "But, Princess...." Spike protested, weakly. Dru had already taken Willow's arm and was leading her out. "We'll 'ave to blindfold you," she said casually, picking up a dark cloth hood. Otherwise, that Slayer might make you tell her where we live." When the hood came down, blotting out her sight, Willow was sure she was as good as dead. But when they had walked for what seemed hours, up stairs, and down tunnels, and finally into the open night air, the hood came off. And Willow found herself on her own front step. Dru was standing behind her; and Spike stood some yards down the street. Before Willow could stop her, Dru rang the bell. Willow's mother came to the door. "Oh, there you are, Willow. I was wondering-- who's your friend?" Mrs Rosenberg smiled. "Oh, well, this is--" "Drucilla," said the vampire, sweetly. "I'd like to stay, but I've really got to go. Have a good night, Willow. Bye, now." Another sweet smile, and Dru was off down the sidewalk. "What a... nice girl," Mrs Rosenberg said, a bit hesitantly. Willow nodded without saying anything and went into the house. "I was starting to worry about you; but I should have known you'd be here on time. You're so responsible." "Thanks, Mom. I'm kinda tired. I think I'll go up to bed. 'Night." "Okay-- oh, and Buffy called. She said she'd see you tomorrow, though, so I don't think you need to call." "Okay!" Willow crawled wearily into bed. It had been a weird day, even by her new standards. *No-one's gonna believe -this- one....* "Hey, Will," Buffy greeted her the next afternoon, as they met in the library. "How'd it go last night? Find anything interesting?" "Well, sort of...." Willow hedged, sitting at 'her' terminal. "Ah, Willow, here you are," Giles said. "I've got something for you." He handed her a shoebox-sized package. It was wrapped in faded rose-coloured paper, and tied with an elaborate pink bow. "Thanks, Giles, but my birthday--" "--isn't for another two months," Xander finished. "I'll remember that," replied the librarian. "But it isn't from me." "Then who's it from?" Buffy asked, suspiciously, sitting on the table next to the computer. "Let's find out," Willow said, although she already knew. Opening the box, she pushed aside several layers of ivory paper to expose a small red-haired doll, dressed in green, with a feathered hat. "Weird. Who'd send you a doll?" asked Buffy as Willow lifted it out. Its eyes opened as she turned it upright. "Five bucks says it's a voodoo thing," Xander said, hovering over her protectively. "Better put it back down." "It's okay," Willow said. "The *doll* isn't dangerous." Giles regarded the hacker for a while. "Is there something you'd like to tell us?" he asked patiently. "It's kind of a long story...." "Most of them are." END
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