Though both Audra and Alex expected to die that night, neither of them did. They both describe waking up naked, in pitch blackness, bound and gagged, on a damp earthen floor. Alex posits that it was perhaps  an abandoned mine of some sort. Audra says it felt like she was in some kind of catacombs. Neither can say for sure, however, given the total blackness in which they found themselves, and only Alex can state with any certainty that they were even being held in the same general location, as she recalls waking up to the sound of Audra screaming. Both were considerably traumatized by the experience, and even in death are often plagued by horrifying flashbacks of their captivity. To this day, neither can set foot anywhere that might be considered dark and dank, without experiencing unbearable claustrophobia, and an overwhelming feeling of dread. 

Neither was particularly overjoyed at the prospect of reliving any part of the experience, even for the purpose of this essay, which they, like the rest of the family, agreed should be written. It was suggested by both of them that I go to Angel for the story, since I appeared to be, in Audra's words, "so buddy-buddy" with him. I reminded them that I, too, had suffered extensively at Angelus' hands, and was only staying in his house because of my sister's unhealthy attachment to him. I showed them my own numerous and varied scars that I had purposely kept as reminders, to myself and Angel, of the cruelty he had inflicted on me when I was held captive at the Factory. Most notably of these horrendous scars, is the one running the entire length of my right calf, where Angelus had taken a sledgehammer to it, and both my tibia and fibula had to be replaced with metal rods. 

Audra said that I had brought it on myself (which I may have), that I had "signed up for it" (which could also be true), and still flat out refused to say another word about her ordeal after passing out on her front stoop, save for describing what she could of the area in which she was held. Alex, however, was a bit more understanding, and after viewing the footage of some of my previous interviews with Angel regarding his misdeeds, finally agreed to meet me later, at an outdoor café in London, to relay what she could of her last days as a human. 

Well, like I said, the first thing I was aware of was Audra screaming in the distance somewhere, echoing off the walls. I couldn't even imagine what he might have been doing to her, but it must have been horrible. She still won't even talk to me about it. As for me, I was propped up in a corner of some kind. When I came to, I was sitting upright, leaning against a stone wall. I sensed more than felt a wall on the other side of me. I couldn't reach out to be sure, because my hands were tied tightly behind my back. My feet had been drawn up behind me and tied together at the ankles, which were also quite attached to my wrists. That was painful enough by itself. My legs were all tingly from sitting on them for God knows how long. I wanted to adjust myself to relieve some of the pain and pressure, but I didn't dare. I was afraid that if I moved even a little, I would fall over, and sitting up was definitely better laying down. 

And it was so dark. You wanna know how dark? Lock yourself in your room, black out all the windows, turn out the lights, squeeze your eyes shut as tight as you can, put a burlap sack over head, then wrap it all over with duct tape. That still won't compare to how dark it really was. At first, I wasn't even sure if my eyes were open or closed. I might have been blind, for all I knew. I could hear water dripping somewhere, and that's what makes me think it was some kind of underground tunnel system. Like a mine. And I thought I heard bats fluttering about overhead, but that could've been my own paranoia. 

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't because I was gagged so hard that I could feel the fabric cutting into the sides of my mouth, and it felt like my tongue was being forced down my throat. I tried to wiggle it loose with my jaw, but all I ended up doing was making myself choke. I almost threw up in my mouth, and that would not have been good. So I finally gave up on putting up any kind of a struggle, for fear of making matters worse, and just kinda sat there, waiting. 

I couldn't see the entrance to the cave, for lack of a better word, if there even was one. There was no way for me to tell which direction Angelus would be coming from. I never even knew he was coming until he was right on top of me. Literally and figuratively. I never heard him approach, and he never said a word until he was close enough to whisper in my ear. By then, though, he generally already had his hands on me. Really, he hardly spoke at all. 

I found this odd, because it has been my experience, and the experience of others I have spoken to, or read about, that he rarely shuts up. It's never simply about physical pain. Psychological torment is equally important to, if not more so, than inflicting any real physiological damage. On the other hand, while Angelus is known for meting out said torment through his mastery of the English language, he is always on the look-out for new and interesting ways to destroy someone's psyche. Even the methods he uses for physical torture are designed for the purpose of burning the experience into his victim, destroying as much of their sanity as he can, before finally giving them over to Death. Unpredictability, humiliation, stretching the truth, or outright lying, are all means he has used to reach his desired end. His near silent treatment of Alex, coupled with the suffocating blackness in which he kept her, are just further examples of the range of his repertoire. 

Alex went on to say she wasn't bothered much by his economy of words, as he had said all that he needed to the first time he approached her. Anything he said after that, was merely his way of digging the knife a little deeper. 

He said we were going to play a game. By that he meant that he was going to play, and I was the game. The object was to see if he could get me to scream loud enough, through my gag, to be heard by Audra, wherever he was keeping her. But there was a catch. If, when he saw her again, she gave any indication that she'd heard me, or knew I was alive, then he would kill her. He said it would be very slow, and very painful, and would far outweigh anything he was going to do me. And he made it clear that my punishment, if I gave myself away, would be so horrific that even he had yet to conceive of it. He assured me it would be unbearable. But if, by some miracle, I managed to keep my survival a secret until I was dead for real, then he would set Audra free. 

This is a game I am quite familiar with. It is one of Angelus' favorites. I call it, "Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don't." It is the same game he played with Hannah, and to a lesser extent, with Moira.  Rupert Giles has played a version of it, and I still bear the evidence of my own participation. It is played a bit differently with each participant, but the basic rules are always the same. If you scream, or if you fight him, then you will be punished. If you don't scream, if you somehow manage to sit quietly, and take whatever her gives you, then you will be punished more. In most cases, you don't even know exactly which one he wants. Scream loud enough, and he'll do whatever he can to make it so you can't, or are afraid to. Remain silent long enough, and he'll give you a good reason to break that silence. He'll see to it that you can't help it. It is a game that can never be won, and is usually only ended when Angelus becomes bored and decides to kill you. 

When Angelus told Alex that if she died without revealing herself to Audra, Audra would be released, what he didn't say was that he would let her live. Nor did he guarantee survival when he offered Alex her own chance at freedom. 

If I was real good, he said I could go, too. I didn't really understand what he meant at the time. He'd already made it clear that I had to die, before he'd let Audra go, so it didn't make much sense to me that I'd be released, too. I figured he was probably full of shit anyway. I didn't believe he had any intention of letting either of us go, no matter what I did. What I did believe was that Audra would be severely punished if I messed up. I didn't want to die thinking that I was responsible for her suffering. I already felt responsible, as it was, for our being there in the first place. If I hadn't run out like I did, we would both be fine. Well, okay, we'd be dead, now, but we never would've been in that cave, or whatever it was. 

So I played the game. I did whatever I could to keep him interested in me, so he wouldn't bother with her. Maybe she'd find a way to escape, I thought. At the very least, as long as Angelus was busy with me, she'd be safe… er. And, you know, maybe he really would let her go, if I died before she found out about me. I tried to make that happen as quickly as possible. I didn't fight him, not that I could, and I kept my mouth shut. Even when it was as bad as I thought it could possibly get, I held it in. He wasn't gonna get so much as a peep out of me. No sir. Okay, well, maybe a peep. But for anyone else to hear that peep, they would've had to be right on top of us. 

But regardless of what he may have said, it didn't take me long to figure out that he actually wanted the opposite. He wanted me to scream. He wanted me to put up a fight. And after a while I could tell he was starting to get pissed off that I wasn't making more of a fuss. So naturally, he tried a little harder, and a little harder. But I still wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Of course, in all fairness, I was gagged. Kinda hard to scream when you got a thick piece of fabric stuffed in your mouth. Plus it gave me something to bite on, something else to focus on besides the pain. Well, he figured that out pretty quick. He said he was making it too easy for me. So he took it off. Then he really went to town. 

I thought I was gonna die. I didn't think I could possibly take any more. But he had plenty more to give. And I cried. I whimpered a little bit. But I didn't scream. I clenched my mouth shut, and I bit the insides of mouth so hard I ended up drinking my own blood, and almost choked on it. But that's all. I wasn't going to give him any more than that. I tell ya, you never know just how much concentration you really have until someone does to you what he did to me, and tells you that someone you care about will suffer for it if you cry out. At one point, it got so bad, that I guess I must have passed out. Not that that's really surprising. I mean, I had blood pouring out of places I didn't know I had. I was exhausted. He had run me ragged, just trying to get more of a rise out of me. 

Game Over 

Though she appears to have moved pass the experience, as Alex relives her time in captivity for posterity, she begins to exhibit mild signs of anxiety that could be related to post traumatic stress.  The farther we go down Memory Lane, the more pronounced these symptoms become. She avoids eye contact, and for the most part seems to be focusing on some distant point in the cosmos. There are long moments when she doesn't say anything at all, apparently locked inside her own memories. The first time this happens, I tap her on the shoulder to remind her of where she is. This is met with a rather violent reaction from Alex, and a shout of, "Don't touch me!", drawing more than a few curious and concerned glances from passers by and fellow Apostrophe patrons. Thereafter, I opt to settle for snapping my fingers in front of her face, in lieu of causing another spectacle. For continuity's sake, I've omitted these pauses from the transcripts. 

When she isn't consumed by flashbacks, she displays more outward signs of her distress. She hugs her arms close to her body, as if she were trying to impersonate a turtle retreated inside its shell. During the more traumatic parts of her story, I find her nervously scratching her arms, picking at wounds that only exist in her mind. For the milder parts of the tale, she expresses her anxiety through nail-biting, hair-pulling, and  continually stirring the coffee she has yet to drink, or add any condiments to.  As she leads me through the darkest recesses of her past, her oratory becomes filled these nervous ticks, and I felt it necessary to relay some of these before continuing on with her narration. 

I guess that's when he left me. I hope Audra didn't suffer too badly for that. Hell, for all I know, that's when he killed her. I don't know, and she won't say. But I know he must have left, 'cause I woke up to a shower of hot coals. Not just one or two, or even a handful, but a whole bleedin' bucket.  I almost did scream, then. I don't know if you've ever had hot coals poured on your bare flesh (I have), but it is the absolute worst. I can't think of a worse pain, that's not gonna kill you right away. And to be woken up that way, from a dead sleep, is even worse. My eyes popped open, and I could feel a scream bubbling up in my throat. That was the first time I saw his face, after waking up there the first time. The glow from the coals lit up his face like a Christmas tree. To this day, I have never seen anything so evil, and so gleeful about it. It was like he knew he had won. That there was no way that I could keep quiet after that. But I did. 

I drew in a breath to scream, then came to my senses just in time to hold it in. I squeezed my eyes shut, and bit my tongue, hard, and I thrashed around quite a bit. Banged my head on the wall a couple times. But I didn't scream. Even when he started picking up the coals with one of those grabby things--  you know what I'm talking about, right? Those fork lookin' things for picking up hot shit?-- and he started pressing them into me, one at a time. Here, there… every where. Oh, God, it hurt. I had tears and sweat just streaming down my face, and mixing together, running in to the cuts on my face, and that hurt. You would think that when your flesh was already searing like that, you wouldn't notice a little salt in your wounds. But I did. I felt everything. Every bruise, every scratch. Every everything. And he's ambidextrous, y'know. Even while he was directing the coal with one hand, he had no problem doing something far more sinister with the other hand. If you can believe that. 

But I still didn't give him quite what he wanted. I put on quite a show for him, I'm sure, but it wasn't a musical number. That done it. He'd finally had enough of me. He stood up and said that if I didn't wanna play, he would just see if my sister wanted to "have a go." And then he started to leave. At first, I was relieved, 'cause I didn't really register what he'd said. I just heard "go". Then I realized, and knew I had to stop him. I didn't know how, but I had to do something to convince him to stay. I couldn't let him hurt Audra the way he hurt me, assuming he hadn't already. So I begged him to wait. I said, "Don't leave me. Please. I don't wanna be alone."  Well, that took him aback a little bit, I think. I couldn't see his face anymore; the coals weren't giving off any  more light. But I could hear him shuffling his feet like he was considering. I said, "I'll do whatever you want. Just, please, don't leave me here." And for the longest time, he didn't say a word. He just stood there. Or I guess he was standing there. Y'know, I couldn't see him, so for all I know he could've been picking his nose. But my point is, he wasn't leaving, and he wasn't coming back, either. He just stayed where he was. 

Finally, I heard him coming back towards me. He stopped maybe a foot in front of me. Then he grabbed me by the side of my head, and I tried not to flinch, but I couldn't see what he was doing, and I couldn't help it. And for once, it seemed like he wasn't even trying to hurt me. He just kinda cupped my face in his hand. It was weird. I didn't know what to make of it. Then he said, "Maybe I should just let you go, hm?" I didn't know what he was playing at, but I knew it was too good to be true. He wasn't gonna let me go.  He was just testing me to see how I'd react. Or maybe it was just another part of the game. I don't know. I went for reverse psychology. I said, "Let me go? Where? It's not as if I have a family to go home to. You killed them all." Then he grinned that creepy little grin of his, y'know that faux magnanimous one, and he says, "Not all. You still have a sister." Then I got right up in his face, which wasn't easy considering the way I was still tied up, and I said, "Audra's dead. I know she is. Probably been dead for days."  I didn't know if that was true, or not. [shrugs] It seemed reasonable. But apparently I got to him. He took his hand away and I could sense him back up a little a bit, and he was quiet for a moment. Then he got over it and said, "No, not that sister." He meant Maggie. 

He tells me that he'll let me go if I help him get to her, which I thought was pretty stupid on his part, 'cause he'd have to let me go before I could do that. How did he know I wasn't gonna double cross him once I got free? Y'know? But of course, I didn't say that. Instead, I pretended to be offended. I said, "What? Am I not good enough for you? All this time, you were just using me to get to her?"  I could tell I'd knocked him off his game with that one. He hadn't been expecting that. I would've laughed if I wasn't still in so much pain. I was getting good at this. But he never let himself be knocked down for very long, and he bounced right back. He said, " Is that a 'No'?" 

Now you have to understand, Maggie and I were close. We were as close as any other sisters. I mean, we may not have shared a bloodline, but we were sisters. I got on better with Maggie, than I ever did with Audra. And I never wanted anything to happen to her. And not just for her sake. She was the only thing standing between life and death for Eve and Colleen. But I was tired, I was cold. I couldn't even remember what food tasted like. And I was in so much pain. I just wanted it to be over. And Maggie may have been a bit touched in the head, but she wasn't stupid. I knew there was no way she was gonna stick around after the other night, however long that was. So I agreed. 

But I wasn't getting off that easy. Not before he did. Something about the last throws of death, I guess. Gets his blood pumping. Metaphorically speaking. He did untie me, though, so that was something, if "untie" is even the word for it. He wasn't exactly gentle about it. He pulled my arms free first, and nearly took my hands off at the wrists in the process, not to mention my feet. He pulled my feet forward at such an awkward angle, I thought they were going to break. They didn't, thank God.  And he did it with such force, that when my hands were finally free of my feet, gravity took over and I fell right on top of him. He made some smart-ass remark about how I couldn't wait, then he pushed me off him and threw me down face first onto the floor. 

For a minute all I could do was lay there. My legs were still tied together, and my arms had been tied behind my back so long, it seemed I'd forgotten how to use them. And I couldn't hear anything, either, except for my own heartbeat and this incessant ringing in my ears. Side effect of having your face slammed into the floor at full force. And I think I broke my nose. It was definitely bleeding, I can tell you that. It was a wonder I didn't pass out again. I thought I was going to, for a minute, but no such luck. Instead I was just incapacitated enough that I couldn't do anything but wait for my brain to defog, and wait for what was next. 

It seemed like I was waiting a long time, but looking back, it was probably less than a minute. By the time I'd regained enough of my senses to make a half-assed attempt at escape, he was already on me again. He grabbed my ankles and tore the ropes apart the same way he did the ones on my wrists, then forced my legs apart like he was trying to make a wish. I realized what he had in mind, and that's when I really started to put up a fight. Up until then, I had been worried about Audra. I didn't wanna bring anything down on her. But he'd basically admitted to me that she was already dead. At least he didn't deny it, which amounted to the same thing. So now I was only responsible for myself, and I fought back with everything I had, which granted, wasn't very much. And he was a lot stronger than me. He threw his whole weight on top of me, and knocked the wind out of me. In the moment it took for me to catch my breath again, I realized that my ropes weren't the only thing he'd taken off. 

I tried to squiggle out from under him, but that was, shall we say… counterproductive. And he was just way too strong for me. He wrapped one arm around my stomach so tight I thought I was gonna puke and lifted me up. He got his other arm around my throat, putting me in a chokehold, so I couldn't have puked if I wanted to. He said it could go one of two ways for me. Quickly or slowly. And he demonstrated what he meant by each. It was my choice, he said, 'cause he had all the time in the world.  I pretty much gave up, then. I knew there was no way I was getting out of there alive, if at all, and he wasn't gonna kill me until he was damned good and ready. I stopped struggling, and went limp, thinking that if I cooperated it would all be over. Y'know? He'd finish me off, and I could rest in peace. 

But he still had at least one more trick up his sleeve, that he wasn't wearing. He'd asked for cooperation, but what he really wanted was participation. When I went still, he said, "Not this time, darlin'. This game's not over yet. And you're gonna play if it kills you." 

The rest of Alex's tale becomes too graphic, at this point, to commit it to print, so rather than transcribe her account word for word, I've chosen to summarize the highlights.  In short, what Angelus wanted was Alex's whole-hearted, full-bodied participation in his little "game". He wouldn't allow her to simply forfeit, or throw the game, and declare him the winner. She had to play to win, knowing that she never could. It wasn't just that she couldn't win, but there was no win to be won. For unlike most games, where the game ends after it there is a winner, this game would have no winner until it was ended. Angelus was already predetermined to be the winner, and only he could decide when it was over. The basis for that decision would be when he felt Alex had given him his full dollar's worth, and Angelus was, and is, a very finicky customer. 

Deference Difference 

After what seemed like hours, and may very well have been, Angelus finally declared himself the victor, and rewarded Alex for a game well played. Her prize? Eternal damnation, and a memory that would haunt her sleep for the next 140 years, as of this writing. When she woke up, she found herself in a place she didn't recognize. Her cuts, bruises and welts had all healed. She had been bathed and dressed, and was lying an actual bed, as opposed to an earthen floor. Alex explains her awakening in more detail. 

It was a nice room, well lit. The dress wasn't particularly fancy, but it was nice. It had flowers on it. Little ones, all jumbled together. And it seemed like it was new. The stockings were, anyway. And the shoes. At first, I didn't even remember how I got there. I mean, I was dead when Angelus brought me there, so of course I wouldn't remember that. But I didn't remember anything else either. I was just tickled by all the new things I apparently had. That, and I was really really hungry. Then I remembered, and I wasn't so tickled anymore. 

I thought, "Great. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire." Y'know? I thought he had just found another way to change up the game. Only now that I was already dead, he had a lot more freedom to do whatever he wanted to me, without having me die in the middle. It never occurred to me that I might now be strong enough to take him down, maybe beat him at his own game. I guess I was still stuck in the mindset of a weak human. No offense. 

I curled myself into a little ball, trying to make as small a target as I could, and waited. I could hear him talking in the next room, and though I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, I knew he would be coming in soon. Sure enough, a few minutes later, he came in all smiles, like a proud papa looking in on his "princess". Made me wanna heave. And he's like, "Oh good. You're awake." Like I was just taking a nap or something. Darla was right behind him and he started to introduce us, but I interrupted him. I said, " I know who you are… Darla." She acted all flattered that I'd heard of her, like she was some kind of celebrity or something, and she says, "Oh. Has my boy been talking about me?" and I'm like, "No, actually. Your name never came up. He was rather… busy." 

That's when I realized that she didn't exactly approve of his extracurricular activities. She didn't say so, and she was pretty good at covering it up, but I could tell she was mad, having it thrown in her face like that. I decided from then on that I would try to make friends with her, at least to an extent. Use her as a buffer zone between me and Angelus. I wanted nothing more to do with him, and I knew from reading Mary's piece of the Diary, that I couldn't kill him, which I knew I would if I was left alone with him again. 

I also noticed that Angelus' whole demeanor had changed from the last time I saw him. Or heard him, is more like, since I couldn't really see. Before, he was mad with power, fully in control. He was the boss. Now, though, not so much. I'm not sure I wanna say he was "subservient" to Darla. I don't think that word could ever used to describe Angelus. But there was a certain… deference happening. There was a clear hierarchy, and Angelus was not at the top of it. He wasn't overt about it, but I could see him subtly seeking her approval. He didn't even make a move towards the bed I was on, until Darla started her own approach. And even then, he was real cautious in his movements. And we was giving me this look like he was afraid of me, for some reason. Like, now that I was dead, I posed more of a threat to him, than he could to me. 

My demeanor changed too, then. I sat up a little straighter, and changed the way I looked at him. Not the way I saw him, but literally the way I looked at him. Like, "Mother Fucker, I'll kill you." And I could tell the message got through, by the way he was acting. I had to look away and bite my cheek to keep from smiling or laughing. As they finally made their way towards me-- not threatening, just walking-- Angelus on my left, and her on my right, I made it a point of moving to the side of the bed that she was on. I was sending a clear message that I wasn't answering to him anymore. Which is not to say I was answering to her either, necessarily. But that I knew he was, and that she didn't much care for some of his "games". 

I could see Darla had also picked up on this. She understood that I was acknowledging her position as the Alpha Dog. I let her keep that understanding, while I gave Angelus one last pretense of authority over me. I asked him,  "Can I go home now?", but I phrased it with more defiance than deference,  then immediately tossed the question back to Darla with a glance, before he could even respond. He either didn't notice, or chose to ignore my subtle denial of his authority. 

Again the subject came up of my bringing Maggie to him. He said, "You promised to help me."  I told him that the way I saw it, I already had. We went back and forth like that for a while, with me dropping bits and pieces of what went on in those caves, mostly for Darla's benefit. I didn't know if she really had a full understanding of what happened down there, apart from your run-of-the-mill torture scenes, or if she would even care if she did, but if there was a chance of getting him in trouble with her, I wanted to take it. And apparently, it did get her goat a little bit. She didn't say anything, but I could tell she was less than thrilled about it. 

Finally, after going around a bit on the subject, I said I'd do it. We would go to the house together, and the two of them would wait in the shadows, while I got Maggie to come out. He would take care of the rest, he said. And after, he would leave me to live my unlife. I would be free to do whatever I wanted. I told him I thought that routine was a bit tired. He'd already done that once, when he took me and Audra. No way was Maggie gonna be dumb enough to fall for the same trick again. But I went along with it anyway. 

Sure enough, when we got to the house, it was just like I'd originally thought. I could sense the emptiness inside before I even reached the door. I didn't even bother knocking. I just opened the door, and walked right inside. Whatever barrier that had existed to keep the vampires out, was gone; the place had been abandoned. I don't know where Maggie went, or what she did with the girls, but they were long gone by the time we got there. I guess you'd have to ask her about that. If you can get to stop talking to the clouds long enough… Good luck with that. 

The Vampire Formerly Known as Maggie

Elusive Drusilla 

I took my Aunt Alex's advice and decided to look up my Dear Auntie Dru, which for the record, she hatesto be called. The problem with this, of course, is that finding Drusilla is even more difficult than getting in touch with Brigid and Cara. She doesn't own a phone, of any kind, because she never learned how to use one. The same holds true for computers, and the internet.  She just can't wrap her head around the technology, probably due to her inherent mistrust of science. I don't think she's ever even seen T.V., and if she had, she probably would have taken it apart to get at the little people inside. My point is, when Drusilla is on her own, i.e. sans Spike or Darla, for example, she is as elusive as they come.  You don't "find" Drusilla. You have to wait until she finds you. 

In my case, I had to wait until she found one of my people. I put the word out to the rest of the family that I wanted to talk to her, and asked them to contact me if she came around. The call finally came in about a week before Christmas, 2000. Kestryl informed me that Auntie Dru was currently in Los Angeles, and would be attending a wine tasting, later that evening, with the recently re-risen Darla. She suggested that if I happened to turn up at the end of that "tasting", when they were both punch drunk, and potentially in need of a designated driver, I might just get my interview. 

I was reluctant to leave Sunnydale at the time, with Buffy's mom fresh out of surgery, and Riley engaging in questionable liaisons with the undead, but I knew this was my last best chance for having anything resembling a conversation with Drusilla. Spike was developing a rather serious crush on the Slayer, and I knew he would be there to help, should anything happen in my absence. I briefly explained to Buffy the situation in L.A., made sure she knew how to reach me if there was an emergency, and reminded her that Spike was there if she needed him. She assured me she would be fine, and encouraged me to go, though she was less than thrilled with the notion of asking Spike for help. 

When I arrived in Los Angeles, I found that Kestryl, and the rest of the growing crew  of Angel Investigations had their hands full with a crazy distraught vampire. Angel had just had a front row seat to Darla's re-siring, and was now intent on staking her before she could rise again, even if it meant bursting into flames under the hot L.A. sun to do so. He kept insisting, "I can still save her," over and over again. In all the time I've known Angel, I have never seen him in such a state, before or since. It was truly a heartbreaking scene to behold. 

Only a few months from meeting a similar fate, I was more concerned for myself, than for Angel. I expressed my concern via asking him if that was his plan for me, when my turn came around. The question served as sufficient distraction for the others to get him calmed down enough to see reason. While he and the rest of his staff tried, in vain, to ascertain Darla and Drusilla's whereabouts, Kestryl and I spent the rest of the day catching up on each other's lives, and discussing the particulars of how I would get my "one-on-one" with Drusilla. To avoid being overheard by Angel and his associates, we conducted our conversation in American Sign Language, the one language we knew neither Angel, nor any of his associates could understand. 

Stakeout 

We finally decided that a stakeout would be the best course of action. The gala that Dru and Darla would be attending that night was to be held at the home of Holland Manners, the Division Head of Special Projects for the law firm, Wolfram & Hart. Kestryl wrote down the address for me, and suggested that I drive there, and wait until the party was finished. I drive a 1990 Volkswagen Westfalia Vanagon painted in pink, blue, and purple swirls. Going anywhere in that van is like driving a rolling billboard that says, "Rowynne Is Here!" If I was to be conducting covert surveillance on the Manners' home, I would have to acquire a vehicle that was less conspicuous and more lawyerly.  So while the team of Angel Investigations was preoccupied with locating Drusilla and Darla, I went out and procured just  such a vehicle: a shiny, black 2000 Mercedes-Benz CL600. 

Following Kestryl's directions, I drove to the Manners house, parking a few yards away on the opposite side of the street, and waited. Hours seemed to pass by as I sat there and watched one luxury sedan after another drive up to the impressive estate.  Finally, when I was about to go mad from boredom, my patience paid off, as I observed the most unlikely of transports pull into the driveway and on up to the mansion. I couldn't resist humming the Sesame Street song, "One of these things is not like the others", as I watched the rust colored 1956 Ford Pick-up drive up among lawyer-mobiles. Thanks to my sister, I knew this truck belonged to Lindsey McDonald, one of Wolfram & Hart's top attorneys, and the last invited guest to be arriving that night. I knew then that my wait would soon be over. 

Sure enough, it wasn't long after Lindsey's arrival that another illicitly obtained vehicle (the first one being my Mercedes) pulled into the drive. There was just enough ambient light for me to see that the two women in the car were indeed Darla and Drusilla.  I waited until they were well up the drive, then got out of my car and followed them to the house on foot. I watched from the shadows as they went to the door and exchanged a few words with Mrs. Manners from the porch before going inside. I caught a glimpse of Drusilla savagely biting Mrs. Manners before Darla closed the door behind them. The poor woman never even had the chance to scream.  I desperately wanted to go in, then, but Kestryl had advised me I would better off waiting a bit longer. 

I moved off into the hedges bordering the driveway and continued watching the house, waiting for my cue. Soon, Angel's Plymouth GTX convertible pulled up to the mansion, and he and my sister got out and went to the door. Angel knocked on the door, the force of the knock pushing it open. Apparently Darla hadn't closed it properly. I saw, then,  that while Mrs. Manners was definitely on her last legs, she wasn't quite dead yet. She gasped a couple words to Angel. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I assume it was something to the effect of "Help me." At any rate, the two vampires had no problem crossing the threshold. 

After a few minutes, I heard terrified screams coming from deep within the home, and Angel and Kestryl came back out. Angel held himself rigidly, his steps carefully measured and unhurried. He stared straight ahead, not blinking, almost robotic. It was a chilling sight, as if Angel no longer existed behind those unseeing eyes. Angelus, also, was nowhere to be found. He had become something else, something far more terrifying than Angelus could ever hope to be. Kestryl followed cautiously a few steps behind, and I knew that she, too, felt this alarming transformation in him.  Everything in her posture told me that while she would support her sire no matter what (this was the case before he became her sire), whatever had transpired in the Manners home gave her sufficient cause to question him for the first time ever. She kept her distance, however, as if she feared Angel would turn his wrath on her if she dared voice any concerns. Angel slid into the driver's seat and waited for her to join him, still staring straight ahead, not even acknowledging her presence, other than to stay his foot from the gas pedal until she had closed her door. As for Kestryl, she curled herself into the passenger seat as far from Angel as she could, as if she were trying to become one with the door. It was this, more than anything else, that highlighted the significance of Angel's sudden change. Until this night, Kestryl had been loyal to Angel (and Angelus) to a fault, going out of her way to please him at any cost. Now, she was like a battered dog, reluctantly following her master because she knew nothing else.

Interview with a Crazy Vampire 

I waited for the screams to die out, then quickly and quietly entered the residence. The first thing I noticed was the trail of blood drying on the carpet, leading to the recently deceased Mrs. Catherine Manners.  A single, man's size 11 shoe print was firmly planted in the trail, pointed away from the dead woman, towards another trail of matching footprints fading away in the direction of the wine cellar. It was as if Angel had stopped only long enough to learn Darla and Drusilla's whereabouts, then continued on into the house without sparing another thought for the dying woman on the floor. 

I followed the bloody tracks through the house until they finally disappeared at the top of a flight of stairs leading to what I presumed to be the wine cellar. I reached the double doors, and was surprised to find them locked: from the outside. I couldn't help but ponder the purpose of such a lock on the outside of a wine cellar. It seemed to me that the intention had always been to lock  people in, rather than lock people out. Why else would the lock be on the outside of the door? Certainly the builders weren't afraid that bottles of wine would suddenly sprout legs and flee on their own. Whatever the original designers had in mind, my initial assumption proved accurate in this case. Angel had locked Wolfram & Hart's top lawyers in the wine cellar with two hungry (and one very insane) vampires, then walked away as if he had merely been dropping off his dry-cleaning. 

I unlocked the doors and swung them open in time to witness Dru and Darla finishing off their last two victims of the evening. Dead lawyers lie strewn about the room like dirty laundry. The two vampires looked up as I entered, tossing their meals aside to focus their full attention upon the interloper-- i.e. me. Yellow eyes burned into mine, fangs gleaming brightly in the soft lighting. For a moment, I thought I might be in over my head. I had never got along particularly well with Drusilla, as she saw me as romantic competition, and I didn't know Darla at all. The last time I had seen her, Angel was stabbing her in the back with a sharp wooden instrument. To say there was no love lost between us, would be a severe understatement. Then again, as far as I was concerned I was already dead, or just as good as, so I really had nothing to lose. 

After exchanging a few snide remarks, and some editorial commentary on Angel's unexpected behavior,  we finally got to the meat of why I was there. Drusilla loved being the center of attention, and was all too happy to answer all my questions, though I knew she would do so in her own way, possibly necessitating a Lunatic to English dictionary. All the same, it was agreed that I would accompany them to their secret hide-away in an undisclosed location, and conduct my interview there. Below is an edited transcript of that interview. For the sake of brevity, and the limitations of written language, I've omitted most, though not all, of Drusilla's incoherent ramblings. You will see for yourself why I had to cut the interview short.

Excerpt from Interview:
Margaret Mary Witfield, A.K.A. "Maggie", A.K.A. "Drusilla"

Row:   Do you remember the last time you saw Audra and Alex?

Dru:     Of course, Dear.

Row:   Can you tell me about it?

Dru:     It was at Kestryl's birthday party. Hannah was very cross. She locked our Angel--

Row:   No, no, no, Dru. I mean before that… The last time you saw them alive.  The night Angelus took them away.

Dru:     (whispers) Shh… It's a secret. Come to the garden and see your surprise. Me mum had a lovely garden. She grew daffodils. But the roses hide their thorns and prick you in your sleep. I plant daisies but they always die.

Row:   So I've heard. Now about Angelus--

Dru:     Daddy had red ones. They shone like rubies. Tangled up in little pearls. Ruby red pearls for the Queen of Hearts. The Prince demands a party.

Row:   The Queen of Hearts, Dru? You mean your mum? Was Angelus the Prince? What about the King?

Dru:     Don't touch His Majesty's jewels. The knight will have your 'ead. (she pronounced it "Ed")

Row:   Dru, I don't understand. What do you mean?

Dru:     "Beware the woodsman axe,"  they told me. "Little trees can't face his might."

Row:   Who told you? Who are "they"?

Dru:     Tiny blossoms. Flowers in the attic. They whisper. Psst, psst, psst. Don't forget. He knows the bluebell's song. She sings of secrets you oughtn't never say, and only one crow knows the way.

Occasionally, Drusilla has moments of lucidity that, when they happen, can be downright terrifying. Obviously, this was not one of those moments. Even Darla could only shake her head in puzzlement, the slight tilt of her eyebrow saying, "What did you expect?"  I had no choice but to abandon my exclusive interview, and hope to decipher some of her psychotic babble after speaking to her half-sisters.