She stands like the darkest of shadows against the moon and I watch her. The distance makes her seem surreal. Slowly she twirls in the breeze, like a pinwheel. She probably hears a whole orchestra in her head or maybe she likes Offspring.

I'm standing behind this old tree. I don't know why I'm here at night. I know better. Actually according to everyone I've ever met, I don't know better or anything for that matter.  Makes me angry sometimes. I know stuff. Stuff about vampires and demons and twinkies and being alone. It makes me feel like her, I mean I don't know exactly how she feels. She's crazy and I'm not-yet. Plus I'm not sure she feels anything. Demons are confusing that way. One day they're your friend and the next day they're killing computer teachers.

She could be lonely. It would explain why she's out here dancing for the moon. Actually maybe it explains why I'm out here watching her dancing for the moon. Well, she is insane and I hafta give her a lotta leeway. Of course I'm just as crazy. One look in my direction and Drusilla will see me. Then again, something could creep up from behind and kill me without a sound. Gotta love the Hellmouth. Chock full of the creepies.

My attention never leaves her. I wonder if everything she says is laughed at. They just blow it off. They just blow her off like she wasn't important. Because she isn't like them and she doesn't have any special powers or anything to contribute to the vampire gang. And maybe they all laugh at her behind back. I wonder if she ever feels small and insignificant. Nah. She
could just kill and eat them.

Still, there's the mocking, "Oh, Drusilla," They say. "Say something funny about fish eating our brains like last night. Oh, there's the phone, it's the stars. Must be for you." Or maybe they're cruel and they smash her stuff. Larry smashed everything I ever liked. Sure we're friends now but that didn't help poor Iggy. He's just so much badly sewn stuffing with only the one good eye now. Stupid stuffed dog. I heard she carries a doll. Maybe they taunt her like they used to torture Willow when she carried that Romeo Sprite from Rainbow Brite around in the 6th grade. Or me and Iggy. She probably hates that. God, that doll could be her only friend.

She's still turning around and around, a lonely silhouette against the bright moon. But now she's twirling faster. I dance fast too. Not well, just fast. It could be in desperation, or a last ditch effort to get some attention. It works too. I usually get glares and some laughs. She dances wild and freely like no one else exists. I wonder sometimes if she's happy being different
like me.  I wonder if I'm happy being different like me. It's the real question, isn't it?