Lawson sighed deeply and let the gypsy girl fall to the floor. Yet another avenue pursued, and one found wanting. Maybe he should try to go to Romania itself...
Manhattan really wasn't the most exotic of locations - could it be that gypsies would be more interesting in their home country? Or... maybe trying to re-create Angelus' finest moments was another doomed project. He'd been studying his Sire for a few years now - tracking down any tome that held information on the creature that had made him. And yet he felt no closer to an answer. Any answer at all. Where the rage and the fire ought to be, there was just emptiness.
Then the strangest sensation crept over him, and slowly he turned. In the doorway stood a woman - no a vision - eerily beautiful and utterly mesmerising. Black hair fell down onto her shoulders in playful curls, and her figure was enveloped in a scarlet dress, outlining her slim curves against the darkness behind her.
"There, there, little brother," she said, tilting her head as her eyes seemed to look right through him, observing the void within. "Don't worry - you won't be alone any longer."
"I-I'm sorry... who..."
He knew who she was, of course - had even attempted to find another saintly visionary himself, but they were very thin on the ground these days. But he could quite simply not take in the fact that he was actually face to face with the real Drusilla. She seemed like something magical out of a fairy tale, not someone he was actually be able to meet. Someone who could speak actual words to him.
"Poor little lost boy," she continued, paying his question no heed and daintily stepping over the dead body by his feet, before placing a hand on his chest.
"So alone... so very alone. Nasty Daddy abandoned you, just like he abandoned us all..."
She was angry he could tell, and yet resigned. Her face a collection of emotions, he wondered what she could see in him. Was there anything in his face other than blankess?
"She stole them, you know, the Golden Slayer. Stole Daddy and my dear Spike both. But then the pixies came and whispered to me..." she studied him and leaned in, secretly, mouth against his ear, "told me about my little brother."
She caught his eyes, and a sudden, secret smile lit up her features. "Always wanted a brother - someone to play with. Come."
She held out her hand; and he could not have refused her even if she'd walked straight out into the sunshine.
Three months. How could it only have been three months? He had been around for more than half a century, and yet it was as though he'd never lived before now.
Moving his head a fraction, he licked a drop of blood off his Dark Mistress' breast, and was rewarded with a satisfied purr.
He had had women before of course - many of them, often - but he had always tired of them before the night was over, leaving only corpses or dust behind when he left the next morning. But Drusilla stirred him like nothing he'd ever known. When he touched her it was as though his blood was singing; and the darkness, formerly so blank, was suddenly full of exciting and glittering mysteries. He was beginning to suspect that even eternity would be too short to explore all these new delights in full.
What was it? Her childlikeness, that looked upon the world with such wonder? Or her viciousness, tearing her victims apart with glowing feral bloodlust? Or maybe her sensual nature, playing his body like an instrument, leaving him gasping from pleasure he'd never suspected... Or possibly her frailty, the way she needed him as fiercely as he needed her?
Maybe... maybe it was just family. The fact that they shared the same blood; that he could sense her where ever she was; that when his fangs penetrated her skin, he felt closer to her than he'd thought possible - like she was a part of him.
Angel was a fool he decided. And Spike even more so. And yet he was oddly grateful towards them - because if they had not so foolishly spurned his Princess, she'd never have become his. Leaning back, he studied her - her delicate face and perfect body, the blood drops that adorned her like a dark trail of rubies, gleaming against her white skin.
"Honey... what do you want to do tonight?"
She looked at him, pondered for a moment. "Have you ever been to England, my sweet Sammy? Let's do some travelling!"
"Well I'll go check if there are any boats leaving... I used to be a sailor, remember? Maybe I should try eating one."
She giggled delightedly; then caught his eyes as she softly stroked his hair.
"My sweet little brother - crushed under all the water, thinking that the world was all blue. But I shall paint you in scarlet and give you a crown. And you shall be the finest knight that ever there was!"
And Lawson knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had finally found his mission.