Fic: (Crusilla) Family Ties That Bind
Apr. 7th, 2005 01:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stoney321In honor of National Fuck It Day I've decided to quit stressing out over this fic and post it. This is the first part, but at this rate, it'll take me forever to finish. I just want it to be purrrrfect. Inspired by 1) a dream where Spike and Dru wanted to turn Sylvia Plath (Dru liked her baby problems, Spike liked her talent) and instead of convincing her, she successfully killed herself. Which pissed off Spike because Ted Hughes put a whammy on his house barring them, and Spike REALLY wanted a taste of the Poet Laureate, and 2) the idea that "Daddy" was inspired from Dru playing with Sylvia's hair and crooning into her ear about Angelus.
I want it to feel like a creepy, Victorian bed-time story that Dru thinks would be comforting. Hmmm. Here goes... Fuck it.
Title: Family - The Ties That Bind
Rating: 'Tis work safe. But keep young children away from Dru. Probably Feral!Connor, too.
Spoilers: Up to the opening ep in Angel, Season 4 - takes place during the summer of Angel's Underwater Sea Adventure.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adis723 and crazydiamondsue for the beta and ecouragement with this. No one knows Dru like Vinnie, and no one knows me like Sue.
Family - The Ties That Bind
She hated to be alone. Before she was born the priests would warn her about the evil that descended upon her when alone. Her mother - not Grandmother Mother - would worry about the things she said when alone. The things said to her when she was alone. After she was re-born, she wasn't alone again for a very long time. There was Daddy and Grandmother. Daddy had made the alone-time before awful, but then it was better. Daddy liked it when the stars spoke to her. Daddy liked the friends he couldn't see. The alone-voices told her where the screaming and the blood was. Daddy liked the screaming and the blood. And then she had her William - her Spike. And he loved her alone-voices most of all.
And when Daddy became Not Daddy and a Very Bad Daddy he left her. And Grandmother went away, heartbroken over Daddy. But she wasn't alone - she had her Spike. But he became covered in the Slayer to the point where she was alone again, and her heart was broken like Grandmother's and the voices left her alone as well. She tried to make the stars tell her where blood and screaming was, but they didn't speak to her for several years. And when they came back, they told her she would have a baby and that she would have a family again.
The nasty lawyers helped her make her baby. And it was Grandmother but also her baby. She wanted a family again. It was always nice with family. More screaming... more parties... She was so happy to not be alone again. They would kill Angel - who was never to be Daddy again. When they tried to hurt him, he let them have their party - perhaps he could be family again... But no, there was fire and blood and screaming and not the beautiful kind and her baby was angry and wanted to leave her, but she didn't want to be alone again. But then the stars began to sing.
The blood was warm and soothing in her mouth. As she drank, the fortune teller's blood gave her stories of what was to come. "My brother is cross with Daddy. Whose is that long white box in the grove, what have they accomplished, why am I cold?"
Drusilla stands, and with delicate hands, dusts off bits of hair and flesh that fell in her lap from her dinner. "Ashes to ashes. Ashes to ashes. Mummy doesn't come for her baby anymore. Brother won't let Daddy punish him for going away."
A whimper from the corner.
Drusilla turns her head, allows her body to follow. With her head down and large eyes on the child in the corner, she moves in and pulls the scarf from its eyes, picks the small body up into her arms rocking and cooing to the frightened toddler.
"So small. Your Daddy didn't save you from me. Would you like a cup of milk?" Drusilla drags her nail along her collarbone and holds the child to the droplets of blood that begin to form. "No? Time for beddy-bye." She spins the child in a circle and giggles. With a snap of her hand, the body slides from her loosened grip to lay with the others.
She holds her long skirt with her blood-red nails and steps over the bodies, eyes trained on the stars in the night sky. "Connor."
He looked over the edge of the pier at his reflection. The lights of the dock allowed him to see his face in the water. Seeing his smile was still taking some getting used to. Seeing his face was taking some getting used to. A boat pulled up causing waves to warp his face in the water. His smile wavered. The popping and crackling from bugs landing on the dock lights came to an abrupt stop. Connor was trained to be aware of movements around him, but he didn't have vampires to train with on Quor'toth, and was still adjusting to their lack of breathing. A quick search of the empty beach and scattered skiffs showed he was alone.
My fa-,Angelus warned me of that during our training sessions. Fool, he thought. Taught me every one of his moves. Connor sneered. Dad. He got what he deserved.
"Yes. Daddy never did like to be in small places."
A lilting, feminine voice spoke softly behind him. Connor whirled, drawing two sharp knives from his sleeves, bracing himself in a fighter's stance. The girl giggled and clapped her hands. "Oh, Daddy's taught you, he has." Very gently, as if she was lulling a newborn to sleep, she leaned to one side, then the other. Large eyes connect with Connor's - open, wide, and far from innocent.
"Who are you? I know you are a vampire. Filth."
The girl stops. Hands that were splayed against her thighs draw up to her belly. "Not filth. I'm beautiful. Do you want to make your sister cross?"
Connor's hands wavered. He relaxed his stance for a brief moment, cocked his head, then remembered what she (it) is. "Sister? I have no family"
More giggling. "Daddy's in the well. No welcome, and pillows of stones for dreaming."
Connor took a step back. "You're crazy."
The girl pouted and played with a curl in her dark hair. Connor couldn't help but follow her hand as it twisted and pulled and traced the shiny black of her long, glossy hair. He felt overcome with with heartsickness for her as he looked into her wide eyes. He felt naked under that stare and didn't realize until he almost lost his balance that he had been stretching his chin forward, exposing his neck. Knives in his hands, years of training were forgotten as he blinked and tried to collect himself under her stare.
"Daddy is at the bottom of the ocean. You've had your games."
"Daddy? What are you talking about? How- How did you know about Angelus?"
"No, not Angelus. Not for a very long time. Only forever my poor Angel."
"You say it like there's a difference. A demon is a demon."
"He speaks, but he doesn't know anything, does he? You don't know Angelus. My real daddy. So sad, my Angel. Broken and hungry and lost... and now he is alone and I have you."
The girl moves past Connor with no acknowledgment of his weaponry and stands at the edge, looking down in the water. She waved with the tips of her fingers as a child would say goodbye to an imaginary friend. Connor heard Holtz screaming in his head, push her! Stake her! Cut off her head! but could only stand next to her and look down at the rippling surface of the ocean.
"Huh. You really don't have reflections."
"Oh, we do, little Connor."
They continue to stare down at the surface of the water, one face looking back at them.
"Someone has put a wreath on the sea."
"That's a fishing net."
"Oh."
Connor, when thinking about their meeting later, marveled at how natural it felt for her cool, small hand to take his and lead him away. How he had registered no shock at her knowing his name. Holtz had left this earthly dimension before Angelus had made his masterpiece. Holtz hadn't told Stephen of any other family than Darla. Since his brief time with Sunny, the want for female companionship had become a frenzied need.
They are so soft and fragile looking. But this one is stronger than the others. She is as strong as me. Connor allowed himself to be led away to a building at the edge of the beach. The girl kept humming and lightly tracing her hands up his arms, which caused his heart to race.
"Who are you? I mean, what's your name?"
She looked at him with surprise, her hands drawn up into fists at her breasts. "Drusilla."
*~*~* TBC... Right Here
*the line: "Whose is that... why am I cold?" Is from "The Bee Meeting," by Sylvia Plath.
*the line: "No welcome, and pillows of stones for dreaming" was inspired by the poem, "In Stony Country" by W.S. Merwin.
I want it to feel like a creepy, Victorian bed-time story that Dru thinks would be comforting. Hmmm. Here goes... Fuck it.
Title: Family - The Ties That Bind
Rating: 'Tis work safe. But keep young children away from Dru. Probably Feral!Connor, too.
Spoilers: Up to the opening ep in Angel, Season 4 - takes place during the summer of Angel's Underwater Sea Adventure.
Thanks to
adis723 and crazydiamondsue for the beta and ecouragement with this. No one knows Dru like Vinnie, and no one knows me like Sue.Family - The Ties That Bind
She hated to be alone. Before she was born the priests would warn her about the evil that descended upon her when alone. Her mother - not Grandmother Mother - would worry about the things she said when alone. The things said to her when she was alone. After she was re-born, she wasn't alone again for a very long time. There was Daddy and Grandmother. Daddy had made the alone-time before awful, but then it was better. Daddy liked it when the stars spoke to her. Daddy liked the friends he couldn't see. The alone-voices told her where the screaming and the blood was. Daddy liked the screaming and the blood. And then she had her William - her Spike. And he loved her alone-voices most of all.
And when Daddy became Not Daddy and a Very Bad Daddy he left her. And Grandmother went away, heartbroken over Daddy. But she wasn't alone - she had her Spike. But he became covered in the Slayer to the point where she was alone again, and her heart was broken like Grandmother's and the voices left her alone as well. She tried to make the stars tell her where blood and screaming was, but they didn't speak to her for several years. And when they came back, they told her she would have a baby and that she would have a family again.
The nasty lawyers helped her make her baby. And it was Grandmother but also her baby. She wanted a family again. It was always nice with family. More screaming... more parties... She was so happy to not be alone again. They would kill Angel - who was never to be Daddy again. When they tried to hurt him, he let them have their party - perhaps he could be family again... But no, there was fire and blood and screaming and not the beautiful kind and her baby was angry and wanted to leave her, but she didn't want to be alone again. But then the stars began to sing.
- *~*~*~
The blood was warm and soothing in her mouth. As she drank, the fortune teller's blood gave her stories of what was to come. "My brother is cross with Daddy. Whose is that long white box in the grove, what have they accomplished, why am I cold?"
Drusilla stands, and with delicate hands, dusts off bits of hair and flesh that fell in her lap from her dinner. "Ashes to ashes. Ashes to ashes. Mummy doesn't come for her baby anymore. Brother won't let Daddy punish him for going away."
A whimper from the corner.
Drusilla turns her head, allows her body to follow. With her head down and large eyes on the child in the corner, she moves in and pulls the scarf from its eyes, picks the small body up into her arms rocking and cooing to the frightened toddler.
"So small. Your Daddy didn't save you from me. Would you like a cup of milk?" Drusilla drags her nail along her collarbone and holds the child to the droplets of blood that begin to form. "No? Time for beddy-bye." She spins the child in a circle and giggles. With a snap of her hand, the body slides from her loosened grip to lay with the others.
She holds her long skirt with her blood-red nails and steps over the bodies, eyes trained on the stars in the night sky. "Connor."
- *~*~*~
He looked over the edge of the pier at his reflection. The lights of the dock allowed him to see his face in the water. Seeing his smile was still taking some getting used to. Seeing his face was taking some getting used to. A boat pulled up causing waves to warp his face in the water. His smile wavered. The popping and crackling from bugs landing on the dock lights came to an abrupt stop. Connor was trained to be aware of movements around him, but he didn't have vampires to train with on Quor'toth, and was still adjusting to their lack of breathing. A quick search of the empty beach and scattered skiffs showed he was alone.
My fa-,Angelus warned me of that during our training sessions. Fool, he thought. Taught me every one of his moves. Connor sneered. Dad. He got what he deserved.
"Yes. Daddy never did like to be in small places."
A lilting, feminine voice spoke softly behind him. Connor whirled, drawing two sharp knives from his sleeves, bracing himself in a fighter's stance. The girl giggled and clapped her hands. "Oh, Daddy's taught you, he has." Very gently, as if she was lulling a newborn to sleep, she leaned to one side, then the other. Large eyes connect with Connor's - open, wide, and far from innocent.
"Who are you? I know you are a vampire. Filth."
The girl stops. Hands that were splayed against her thighs draw up to her belly. "Not filth. I'm beautiful. Do you want to make your sister cross?"
Connor's hands wavered. He relaxed his stance for a brief moment, cocked his head, then remembered what she (it) is. "Sister? I have no family"
More giggling. "Daddy's in the well. No welcome, and pillows of stones for dreaming."
Connor took a step back. "You're crazy."
The girl pouted and played with a curl in her dark hair. Connor couldn't help but follow her hand as it twisted and pulled and traced the shiny black of her long, glossy hair. He felt overcome with with heartsickness for her as he looked into her wide eyes. He felt naked under that stare and didn't realize until he almost lost his balance that he had been stretching his chin forward, exposing his neck. Knives in his hands, years of training were forgotten as he blinked and tried to collect himself under her stare.
"Daddy is at the bottom of the ocean. You've had your games."
"Daddy? What are you talking about? How- How did you know about Angelus?"
"No, not Angelus. Not for a very long time. Only forever my poor Angel."
"You say it like there's a difference. A demon is a demon."
"He speaks, but he doesn't know anything, does he? You don't know Angelus. My real daddy. So sad, my Angel. Broken and hungry and lost... and now he is alone and I have you."
The girl moves past Connor with no acknowledgment of his weaponry and stands at the edge, looking down in the water. She waved with the tips of her fingers as a child would say goodbye to an imaginary friend. Connor heard Holtz screaming in his head, push her! Stake her! Cut off her head! but could only stand next to her and look down at the rippling surface of the ocean.
"Huh. You really don't have reflections."
"Oh, we do, little Connor."
They continue to stare down at the surface of the water, one face looking back at them.
"Someone has put a wreath on the sea."
"That's a fishing net."
"Oh."
Connor, when thinking about their meeting later, marveled at how natural it felt for her cool, small hand to take his and lead him away. How he had registered no shock at her knowing his name. Holtz had left this earthly dimension before Angelus had made his masterpiece. Holtz hadn't told Stephen of any other family than Darla. Since his brief time with Sunny, the want for female companionship had become a frenzied need.
They are so soft and fragile looking. But this one is stronger than the others. She is as strong as me. Connor allowed himself to be led away to a building at the edge of the beach. The girl kept humming and lightly tracing her hands up his arms, which caused his heart to race.
"Who are you? I mean, what's your name?"
She looked at him with surprise, her hands drawn up into fists at her breasts. "Drusilla."
*~*~* TBC... Right Here
*the line: "Whose is that... why am I cold?" Is from "The Bee Meeting," by Sylvia Plath.
*the line: "No welcome, and pillows of stones for dreaming" was inspired by the poem, "In Stony Country" by W.S. Merwin.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 11:56 am (UTC)"Huh. You really don't have reflections."
"Oh, we do, little Connor."
They continue to stare down at the surface of the water, one face looking back at them.
***and***
Connor couldn't help but follow her hand as it twisted and pulled and traced the shiny black of her long, glossy hair. He felt overcome with with heartsickness for her as he looked into her wide eyes. He felt naked under that stare and didn't realize until he almost lost his balance that he had been stretching his chin forward, exposing his neck. Knives in his hands, years of training were forgotten as he blinked and tried to collect himself under her stare.
Gaaaah. So sadly right and lovely. And of course he'd be drawn to her strenght and that, to her, he's completely normal...I can't wait to see where this goes...
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 12:14 pm (UTC)Crap. Forgot to add the disclaimer for the poetry bits...
Fixin' it.
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Date: 2005-04-07 12:47 pm (UTC)I can really see Drusilla clearly here. Beautiful...
"Someone has put a wreath on the sea."
This rings a bell -- isn't that a custom somewhere or something? I love the image of them looking down on the water and seeing only one reflection.
Does this story follow on from your Connor/Fred/Angel story, or should it be considered separate?
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 12:54 pm (UTC)The "wreath on the sea" is also inspired from a poem called "The Fisherman" by WS Merwin:
By motions we have never learned they feed us.
We lay wreaths on the sea when it has drowned them."
Sigh.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 12:49 pm (UTC)I especially like the way you're writing Dru - yes, she doesn't live in quite the same world as the rest of us, but she's not a complete nutjob. Really looking forward to more of this.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 12:56 pm (UTC)The reason? They showed that although he had "unusual" word choices, that taken out of context look crazy, within context made perfect sense. I'm using that idea for her.
Chills? Really? *bounces* 10Q.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 12:57 pm (UTC)please tell me where there is more Crusilla. I know of NONE!!!
Thanks, BTW. :-)
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 12:58 pm (UTC)Right from the beginning. Damn. I do so love Drusilla. And she's going to have a field day with Connor. :) Pretty twisty dark good.
Apologies for incoherence.
::goes back to essay of doom::
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Date: 2005-04-07 01:05 pm (UTC)Thanks for taking break for me, Sam!!
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Date: 2005-04-07 01:12 pm (UTC)My fa-,Angelus warned me of that during our training sessions. Fool, he thought. Taught me every one of his moves. Connor sneered. Dad. He got what he deserved.
"Yes. Daddy never did like to be in small places."
So perfect for her to respond to the unspoken. Oh and this: "Huh. You really don't have reflections."
"Oh, we do, little Connor."
Gorgeous.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 01:31 pm (UTC)*sigh*
Thanks, Vinnie.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 01:39 pm (UTC)"You say it like there's a difference. A demon is a demon."
"He speaks, but he doesn't know anything, does he? You don't know Angelus. My real daddy. So sad, my Angel. Broken and hungry and lost... and now he is alone and I have you."
Wonderful! Can't wait for more.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 01:53 pm (UTC)And don't get me started on poor, misunderstood, angry and damaged Connor.
*sigh*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 01:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 01:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 03:24 pm (UTC)"Huh. You really don't have reflections."
"Oh, we do, little Connor."
They continue to stare down at the surface of the water, one face looking back at them.
"Someone has put a wreath on the sea."
"That's a fishing net."
"Oh."
What a gorgeous image this is. Creepy and contemplative and funny. It really grabbed me. I'd never heard the idea of Connor and Dru together until you brought it up, and it just seems meant to be now.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 07:10 pm (UTC)I had such a "DUH!" moment when I figured out how much they needed each other.
(Thank you.)
More screaming... more parties...
Date: 2005-04-07 03:49 pm (UTC)But it's all very, very lovely. Lyrical and poetic and dreamy.
Gorgeous imagery.....
I love the pictures you paint. The line about Dru waving, for example, and this:
"So small. Your Daddy didn't save you from me. Would you like a cup of milk?" Drusilla drags her nail along her collarbone and holds the child to the droplets of blood that begin to form. "No? Time for beddy-bye." She spins the child in a circle and giggles. With a snap of her hand, the body slides from her loosened grip to lay with the others.
She holds her long skirt with her blood-red nails and steps over the bodies, eyes trained on the stars in the night sky. "Connor."
WHOA!
and
The girl giggled and clapped her hands. "Oh, Daddy's taught you, he has." Very gently, as if she was lulling a newborn to sleep, she leaned to one side, then the other. Large eyes connect with Connor's - open, wide, and far from innocent.
Hooray for National Fuck It Day!
Re: More screaming... more parties...
Date: 2005-04-07 07:11 pm (UTC)The skirt/nails bit is one of my most vivid mental pictures of her.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 05:27 pm (UTC)Will be looking for more for sure!
:)
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Date: 2005-04-07 07:11 pm (UTC)Thank you!!
*writes more furiously to appease you*
Hee!!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 07:48 pm (UTC)Yay!!
:)
Oh, and a neat icon, too!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 09:47 pm (UTC)I'll toss you back a
:-D
and a
Whee!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 06:02 pm (UTC)I'm under this story's THRALL. Love it.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 07:12 pm (UTC)Thanks, Kakaako!!
*pinches your hot Asian bum*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-08 10:34 am (UTC)But I do thank you for the compliments and reading!
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Date: 2005-04-08 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-08 04:40 pm (UTC)It's important to lie to ourselves. At least, I tell myself that. Hee!
But I take from your previous post that you are engaged, which is all I want! *hugs you HARD*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-08 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-08 04:43 pm (UTC)Will do, am trying...
Off topic: say someone had a baby early, and someone else was going to see that baby a weekend before they had planned, which left that second person with a weekend open to possibly take a trip to see VK on stage in NY...
If they could fly in, see the play, get smashed with a group of girls, then fly home the next day... For which performance would she be buying tickets? You know, hypothetically speaking.
*boingboing*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-08 05:10 pm (UTC)EE!! Email ros_fod@yahoo.com for all details.
EEEE!!!!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-09 08:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-10 02:38 pm (UTC)Thanks, dovil. I'm going to have to buy you a round. Or twelve.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-09 10:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-10 02:40 pm (UTC)WHat a lovely phrase! It's so perfect for Dru, IMO. And thank you so much for popping in. I know this has one of Fandom's most reviled characters (Connor) *cries with the injustice* so 10Q, 10Q!!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-10 01:00 pm (UTC)Drusilla turns her head, allows her body to follow. That's really beautifully done, and it makes the reader visualise a dreamy movement in slow motion.
She spins the child in a circle and giggles. That was gruesome. I'm trying to remember what I've seen that was like this. - O god yes. A chicken being killed at a ceremony - there was dancing and twirling, and the chicken being twirled until it's neck was broken. *shudders*
It's very evocative. Because you describe just certain visual details (the reflection on the water breaking up, Drusilla's nails on the fabric of her dress) which would be cutaway shots in a film, that builds up the atmosphere in the same way a film does. There's a nice contrast between the dark, comtemplative inner world of the characters, which is in their heads, and these sudden physical details. The story dodges between these inner and outer worlds, and between the characters' present and their memories, and that gives it it's own kind of rythm, dynamism. As for instance:
The girl pouted and played with a curl in her dark hair. Connor couldn't help but follow her hand as it twisted and pulled and traced the shiny black of her long, glossy hair. He felt overcome with with heartsickness for her as he looked into her wide eyes. He felt naked under that stare and didn't realize until he almost lost his balance that he had been stretching his chin forward, exposing his neck. Knives in his hands, years of training were forgotten as he blinked and tried to collect himself under her stare.
As you describe Connor's reaction here, the structure of your writing is demonstrating what he's feeling, a sort of dizzy snapping back to himself.
Dark and dreamy. And dangerous. I suppose they're just gonna have to fuck aren't they? I like the way all of it establishes the conclusion, why he feels this affinity for her; that's a difficult thing to make convincing, and I think you've succeeded.
- I don't know how useful it is to get this kind of feedback? It depends whether you plot things out first, or whether you let things stew until they're ready to come out right. Since I'm a visual person, I hate analysing my work before it's finished because words can change the way a visual thing turns out, and it's a different sort of thinking, so it has different results.....but you asked for feedback....
Sorry for any spelling mistakes! Can't use the spellchecker because then I get hopelessly confused between Brit and American spelling.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-10 02:41 pm (UTC)*hugs you HARD*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-11 12:36 pm (UTC)*smooches you*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-11 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-04 09:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-04 09:51 am (UTC)"Someone has put a wreath on the sea."
"That's a fishing net."
"Oh."
/end
so sorry I missed this the first time around! I go through phases where I don't read much or any fic, and this must have come through then, or in one of my off-the-computer days, b/c otherwise I don't know how I missed it!
*loves on you, goes to read next part*