"Devlin, Billy Devlin!  You're back!"

Robert Jenkins crossed the dance floor to greet his friend.

William Devlin grinned.  "As observant as ever, Jenkins.  How have you been?"

"I should be asking you that.  What, a few years in London and you've got nothing say?  Though I see you've adopted the city way of talking.  Ah well, a few weeks back home and you'll be a gentleman again in no time."

"That's exactly what mother said," Billy told him.  "Though I don't know what good it'd do me. But I am glad to be back.  What have I missed?  Is Green up to his old tricks again?"

"Everything's fine,"  Robert assured him.  "I'll fill you in later.  You haven't missed too much, though.  A few mishaps here and there but otherwise nothing major.  You'd be surprised to see how little Beth Moore has grown up, though.  Turned out to be quite the young lady."  He winked.

"Really?"  Billy was genuinely interested.  "I'll have to see for myself then."

The two were going up the spiral staircase of the mansion belonging to the Winfield's.  People lined the walls, mingling while others danced. Women pranced around in dresses of silk and satin while the men sat, joking about something or another.  From above, it looked like a sea of whirling skirts and
joyful music.

Billy was gazing down at the others, dancing and laughing, when something caught his eye.  A young woman was standing against a wall, talking to a man, looking quite similar to the other young ladies.  But somehow, he knew there was something different about her.  She was lovely.  Raven hair was
piled up in a tasteful style on top of her head and the dress she wore was of the latest fashion.  He couldn't tell the color of her eyes but he had a feeling they were light, not dark like her hair suggested.  Her pale face had a certain quality he couldn't quite describe but rather liked, nonetheless.

"Who is she?"

"‘She' who?"  Robert turned to his companion curiously.

"That girl.  The one with the gentleman in black."

"Oh," Robert joined his friend at the railing.  "That's Drusilla Morgan.  I don't know her well but she seems like a sweet girl.  A bit strange maybe, but what girls aren't? The man she's with, that's Mr. Angelus.  He's quite wealthy, though I don't think Miss Morgan is.  Keeps to himself, though.  He's
Miss Morgan's guardian."

Billy's gaze drifted to man beside Miss Morgan.  He was young, Billy guessed about mid twenties.  He looked a bit like his charge with dark hair and pale skin, and he was laughing at what seemed to be something she said. Billy wondered if they were related.

"But if you really would like to know everyone who's arrived here since you left," Robert continued, oblivious that Billy was no longer listening. "The Davenport family is back, a rather old widower has moved in and a young woman and her father ... Oh look!  There's Beth Moore!"

Billy was still staring at Miss Morgan, wanting more than anything to meet her.  As if in answer, Angelus's eyes glared back up at him, a forbidding expression on his face.  Billy blinked, startled, but when he looked back at the couple they were laughing and talking as before, as if nothing had happened.  Billy shrugged it off as a hallucination.  ‘You've been away from home too long,' he told himself, allowing Robert to lead him towards the awaiting Miss Moore.
 

Drusilla looked up at the retreating figure.  He was watching her, she was sure of it.  He was a handsome lad, dark hair and beautiful eyes.  She didn't know why Angelus had made him go away!  ‘Edith would have liked him', she thought.  Alas, poor, poor, little Miss Edith.  Too bad she hadn't
lived long enough to enjoy a party such as this one.  It would have made her feel like a Princess...

"Dru, are you listening to me?"

She snapped to attention.  "Yes, my Angel?" her cockney accented voice answered.

His voice had dropped to a low tone so that she could barely hear it admits the hum of conversation and music.  "Dru, I was just saying we should keep to ourselves while here.  Darla should be back for us in a few months but while we're waiting we can't let anyone know what we are."

"I know, dear Angel.  I wasn't turned yesterday, you know."

"Yes, but you are still young.  You've only been one of our kind for what, three years now?  I've been at this for almost fifty years and Darla still sees a need to watch over me," he said, grumbling a bit at the last part.

A trio of young women came towards them, no doubt hoping Angel would ask one of them to dance.  Sighing, her sire decided to go mingle, so not to raise suspicions, leaving Drusilla all by herself.
 

After chatting a bit with Elizabeth Moore, Billy finally was able to pull himself away from Jenkins and see if he could find this Drusilla Morgan.  He spotted her on the other side of the room and made his way towards her. But before he could reach his destination, he was stopped by his mother.

"Billy, dear!  There you are!"  Mrs. Devlin called out to her son from her group of friends.

She was a short woman, but very tall in character.  She had the capacity to be both the most regal and silliest woman he knew.  She always had to have the best.  The best clothes, the best jewels, and of course, the best sons.

Billy looked helplessly towards Miss Morgan's direction only to see her disappear into the crowd as his mother pulled him towards her friends.

"See how he's grown?" she asked her companions.  "All those months in London have turned him into a fine young man.  Nothing compared to his brother, Philip, mind you, but a fine young man nonetheless.  He's sure to be a success when he enters the military, and such a success needs a wife beside him.  A rich wife."

Billy smiled politely.  His mother definitely wanted the best for her sons, especially Philip.  But sometimes she got a bit too involved.  His thoughts turned to Beth Moore at his mother's comment on marriage.  They'd grown up together, he and Miss Moore, considering he was eight years old when she was born.  She was a nice girl, rich, pretty.  Probably the best he was going to get.

"Yes, Billy will be an excellent catch when he gets older.  But at the moment, I'm not sure if I could give him up," his mother went on.

‘Hah,' he thought.  His parents were too busy tending to Philip to even notice him.  Not that he minded of course, because of his ‘younger son' status, he wasn't watched as closely, therefore was allowed more freedom than his brother, who had to uphold the family name as an honorable gentleman. Not that William wasn't.  Sure, he was more impulsive than his older brother, but
he was well liked by the community.

"Billy?"

He looked up.  "Yes?  I'm sorry, I seem to be a bit distracted."

"Billy, be a dear and get your brother.  I want to show him off to the ladies."

Billy nodded and went to fetch Philip, relieved to be away from his mother's watchful eye.
 

Victoria Thurston sighed dreamily. She was walking home from the party now, but her mind was elsewhere, instead of on the vampires she was supposed to be on the lookout for.  Ever since coming here she had enjoyed the attentions of numerous young men.  Thomas, er, Gareth, had warned her against getting too attached to one of them, as it might distract her from her Slayer
duties, but she saw no harm in innocent flirting.

Suddenly, a scream ripped through the silence of night.  She rushed into to the darkness towards it's origin.  Her feet echoed as they hit the dirt road. Somewhere a bird called, as if proclaiming what was surely tragedy and death. She held her cloak tighter to her body as she ran, as if trying to
shield herself against the inevitable.

She stopped in the middle of the road and took a quick breath.  In front of her was the body of a young man, apparently thrown to the ground.  His eyes were open in surprise and his hair and clothes were disheveled.

Her eyes widened as she recognized it as the corpse of one of the young men flirting with her at the party.  She shivered as she examined his cold throat. It was slashed.  So recently that the blood had not yet begun to dry and still dripped down his neck, staining his white collar.  She grimaced.

"Vampires," she whispered into the night air, oblivious of the small figure hidden in the shadows, watching her.
 

Footsteps echoed on the balcony surrounding the Winfield mansion.  The slight breeze was bone chilling in the cool April night.  William took a deep breath as he walked towards edge  Placing his hands on the railing, he looked up at the stars, diamonds on a sky of black velvet.

He'd only been back a few days and already he was bored out of his mind.  It was so peaceful here.  Too peaceful. Oh yes, he had his old childhood friends here and his family, but compared to the city ... Back in London he was the leader of a group of young men like himself who stayed up all night, wreaking havoc and playing jokes.  Nothing too serious, of course.  It was all in good
fun.  But to him, it was really the fact that he was the leader, the one in charge, that really made it enjoyable.  He'd never been in charge before, have people afraid of him, it was always his brother who had his parents' favor and as a child, Richard Green had already established himself as the
ringleader.

That's why he'd chosen the military as a future employment.  Only that and priesthood seemed to be "worthy" of Jean Devlin's son.  In the military at least, he'd have a chance to rise in ranks, and maybe even do some damage ... to the enemy, of course.  He enjoyed fighting, and was a good strategist. Besides, it was probably the best he was going to do.

His mother was quite the woman.  Proud was the only way to describe her.  She was anything but a quiet, submissive wife who stood modestly behind her husband.  Success was what she wanted and she was intent to get it.  She was somewhat unreliable and very unpredictable.  Yes, she gave him freedom, provided him everything he needed, but there was no love in it, no affection.

His father was a tall, strict man for who William had high regard for.  He was perhaps the exact opposite of his wife, quiet, conservative, and reliable.  He didn't spend much time at home, but was devoted to his family and was a good provider.  Though Billy respected him, John Devlin always seemed to be cool and unreachable.  True, there were a few moments in his early memory where his
father was truly kind and gentle, but ever since then, his father had always been more of an icon than a father.

His elder brother, Philip, of course would be the one to inherit the family's money and property.  He'd always been, in their parents' eyes, better than his brother.  Not that Billy minded.  He liked his easy going elder brother.  It wasn't Philip's fault he was born first.  There were some cons to be
the elder.  Philip was always expected to be perfect while Billy was allowed some slack.  Of course his brother was pretty damn near perfect, but that couldn't be helped.

He sighed.  His entire life was laid out for him and served on a silver platter.  He'd go into the military, get married, probably to Beth Moore, have children, grow old, and die.  To many this would seem like the ideal life, but to Billy Devlin it was just boring.  He wanted an exciting,
unpredictable life, without having to worry about rules or honor.  But that was almost impossible without tarnishing the family name.  Sometimes he wondered why he cared so much about his neglective parents.  What exactly was tying him down to this life anyway?
 

Angelus was angry.  Drusilla had left the party early, without him, and run off somewhere, probably to feed.  After all he had told her about not drawing attention to herself, and she's gone out to eat!  He paced anxiously around the large room of the house he had purchased.  He'd sent the last of
the servants away a few hours ago and was now waiting for her by himself.

Annoyed, he looked outside.  It was almost dawn, so she should be back soon.
Finally he heard a light knock on the door.

An impatient Angelus opened the door see an exhausted but happy Drusilla.  She walked into the house as if in a daze, collapsing in a chair.  Her hair had fallen out of it's neat coil and was now hanging down her back.  Her white dress was stained with the blood of what was obviously a recent meal.

"Where have you been?"

"Out," her voice was dreamy, detached.  "I was ‘ungry."  She smiled endearingly, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.

"You aren't supposed to hunt without me!  You could have been caught." Angelus scowled at the worn, delicate figure draped over the chair.

She stood up slowly.  "But I wasn't caught, dear Angel.  Princess can take care of ‘erself as well as you can.  Besides, I ‘ave some news."

He approached her until they stood toe to toe.  Looking down on the expressive face, he kept his voice low, dangerous.  "Dru, you are not a princess.  You are a poor, mad, sorry excuse for a vampire who used to be foolish little girl whose family and friends abandoned her.  You're lucky I even took pity on you and turned you.  Now I want you to promise me that you will *never*,
ever go out hunting alone while we're here.  You are too stupid not to get yourself killed."  He said each word with slow precision, ordering her, commanding her.

She lolled her head back, swaying back and forth.  "Daisies are growing outside..."  She grinned widely.  "They're going to wilt soon, though." She closed her eyes.  "Stained with crimson..."

"Damn it Drusilla!"  He shook her.  Hard.  "Listen to me!"

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, a blank look on her face.

He let out a sound of frustration.  Raising his arm, he struck her, knocking her down to her knees.  She let out a gasp of surprise as she fell.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  "Get up," he commanded.

She turned her head to face him, a hurt puppy look on her face. Gingerly, she felt her bruised cheek and split lip, all the time staring at him in disbelief.  But she didn't cry.  She knew crying would only bring more beatings.  She stood and backed slowly toward the door, grabbing the bible that lay on a small table for show and her favorite doll, Miss Edith. Ignoring how it burnt her fingers, she hurled the bible at Angelus.

It hit him near the ribs, and he grasped his side in pain, swearing. Hurriedly, she opened the door, Miss Edith clutched close to her chest, and rushed out into what was soon to be dawn.  Angelus ran to the doorway.

"Drusilla!  Get back here!"  But he didn't go after her, for it would only be a few moments before the sun would rise.