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Dru's Directorial Debut

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Blindfolded since they’d left the factory, Spike listened to their footsteps cross pavement, then grass, then he paid close attention to the screech of an old, steel door and the hollow tread of wooden floors. Spike inhaled deeply: greasepaint, sawdust and talc. He smiled. “You’ve brought me to a theatre, pet. Are we the attraction or the audience?”

“Shush. Naughty Spike.” He felt Drusilla’s fingertip grace his lips. “No fair guessing the surprise.”

Spike rolled his neck and sighed, itching to snatch the blindfold away. Dru ran her fingers down his arm and picked up his hand, turning it over, she placed a kiss on his palm. Full, wicked lips. He cupped his hand and tried to keep the contact as she pulled away, laughing. A rough rope dragged across his wrist.

Oh. It was going to be THAT kind of surprise. He relaxed in his stance and raised his other arm when he felt her finish securing his left. He could swing his arms lightly back and forth – whatever he was secured to was above. “Is it going to be a puppet show, then, luv?”

“Naughty boys who don’t stop guessing don’t get their eyes back.” Her thumb ran a little too hard across the silk blindfold, causing little stars to jump up against the darkness in his eyes.

“Sorry, princess. I’ll be good.” He smirked in a way he knew conveyed exactly the opposite impression. He was rewarded with a light slap on the cheek, and then he heard his dark beauty hurry away, her soft, slippered feet and gown swishing across the floorboards.

His mind was starting to race in the way it always did when he put himself at the mercy of his mad goddess. There really was no guessing what she would do, and even if he would survive it. That was the thrill, better than battling the biggest nasty. He could taste his demise in her every caress and it made him feel alive.

His thoughts were so focused on life, in fact, that when those little footsteps came scampering back with company, he didn’t hear the frightened heartbeat at first, thinking only that Dru had brought a minion to help with the rest of the surprise. But there it was – practically thundering! And a scared whimper as Drusilla brought the human girl to a point on the stage. There was the whisper of more ropes. Spike smiled even broader under his blindfold. Dinner theatre.

“Hush, pretty… there… I could eat you up! Hee!” Drusilla ran back and forth, then, distractedly checking parts of her elaborate plan. “Oh, it’s almost curtain time! Miss Scarlet won’t be ready and the audience is already dead! Oh, what have we forgotten, fairies? Ah, yes!” Her little steps hurried up to Spike and stopped. She dropped down, and he felt ropes going around his ankles.

“Mm!” Drusilla let out a hum of satisfaction and he could hear her twirl, her skirts slapping against his leg. “It’s all so delightful! Now hold your places! I’m going to go get Daddy!”

Spike gritted his teeth and groaned. “The slayer is looking for him, luv. Won’t do to bring prisoners out on the town!”

But her hurrying footsteps were already gone out the door. If he had to go caoture the git again for her healing… He relaxed against his bonds, feeling very much the strung-up doll, and wondered about the near-hyperventilating girl to his right. It was a girl, for certain – pitch of voice, smell, she was virginal, young, and scared out of her gourd.

“Here now, pet,” he leaned in her direction, “you get to be a star tonight. Aren’t you happy?”

She whimpered a little louder and longer and he chuckled. Oh, she was a tasty one, he could tell.

There was a bang and a thud, and the sounds of struggle – at least three persons. And in front of that, Drusilla’s light skip. Ah, here comes ‘Daddy’.

“No no no!” Drusilla’s voice was cutely cross. “Daddy gets the special chair. Here! And you are NOT invited to the front row. Two seats back for you. I’ve seen your ticket!”

There where more struggles. Spike leaned on his ropes. “Dru, love, I’m getting’ BORED here.”

There was more bustling and the squeak of a chair, and a minion shouted “ow!”

Spike started trying to work the blindfold off by rubbing his face against his shoulder.

“Ooooh!” Dru ran up the stage steps. “Naughty dollies. Four seconds to curtain! Hold still!”

“But, Dru, luv…”

She slid her fingers under his shirt and ran them splayed across his stomach. That was enough to get him to quiet. She stepped around him, still caressing his bare skin. “Two… one…” she whispered against his ear. “Up goes the curtain!” She lifted the blindfold from him.

Spike blinked into bright lights for a moment before he made out the audience – the first four rows of the theatre had a doll in each seat, except for the chairs taken by Angel and three of the minions – also, one doll was sat by herself in row seven.

Angel was gagged and very securely bound, one minion on either side of him holding his arms so he was upright and facing the stage. His eyes were black with anger.

Drusilla danced across the stage, swaying to music only she could hear. “Remember in Mayfaire, Daddy? The wonderful shows! With torches that don’t reach the shadows and mummies and daddies always looking elsewhere.”

Spike followed her with his eyes, taking in the ropes that reached high overhead into the scaffolding – lord, how did Dru manage that? There was a young redhead tied up the same as him, ropes to the arms and legs, and she was struggling to find her way out, gagged, eyes wide. Dru danced around her, pulling some trapped hair from the gag. “Isn’t she lovely, Spike? All innocence and power. I couldn’t pass her up!” She kissed the exposed top of one cheek while the girl thrashed to get away.

“She’s a peach, love. But what am I supposed to do?”

“You’re my puppet!” Drusilla skipped back across the stage, behind Spike. She came back with a length of two-by-four which she pressed into Spike’s hand. “Like the shows. You remember Punch and Judy? Nasty, wicked Punch! Growl!” She danced backward, arms out to embrace the picture they made. “And I control the strings!”

“We could do this the old-fashioned way and you could just tell…” he began, but her sharp fingernails were already drawing his face to hers, her eyes liquid and deep.

“Be in me,” she said.