DISCLAIMER: Angel and Buffy belong to the genius that is Joss Whedon and not me. No money is being made from this and no copyright infringement is intended.
CHALLENGE: Written as part of the 1001 Nights Challenge - delusion.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

The Big Bad Wolf
By Celievamp


"Miss Anne, you've been such a very naughty girl," Drusilla turned the doll until it faced the wall of the crypt. "You shall be punished most severely." She frowned at the blonde curls. They reminded her of someone she was trying very hard to forget.

The Slayer.

Spike liked her which was the strangest thing Drusilla had every experienced and Drusilla had experienced some very strange things in her time.

"Miss Anne shall be sent to bed without any supper," she announced to the assembled dolls. They stared at her in silence, knowing better than to make any comment or they would be likely to share Miss Anne's punishment. Or worse.

And what to do with the Slayer? Such an incorrigible bad girl. Such a toothsome girl. She had killed grandmother Darla after all. Did that make her the big bad wolf?

"My, what sharp teeth you have," she whispered. "All the better to eat you with my dear."

Drusilla touched herself wondering if the Slayer would ever… she had such a clever tongue, always with an answer, trading quips with Spike, trading looks. And the things she had done with Angel, enough to bring Angelus back from beyond. She hummed happily to herself remembering that, it had been almost like the good old days when she and Spike were very young. She lay back upon her bed, her skirts rucked up around her waist and fingered herself thoughtfully. The Slayer would have to die, of course, but they could have some fun first. A tea party, something civilized.

"And you are all invited," she smiled at her dollies and then frowned at Miss Anne, still facing the wall. "Except you of course, Miss Anne. No tea party for you. No supper either."

Darla would have understood. Grandmother liked to play games as well. She could charm birds from the trees and babes from their cot. Drusilla pouted. Would she have expected to share the Slayer? That wasn't fair. It was Drusilla's tea party after all. Perhaps it was for the best that Grandmother was dust and would be unable to attend.

It was the dark of the moon. Drusilla could feel its sluggish tide drawing her. She would issue the invite in person of course, it was the proper thing to do. And she needed to pick up some dainties for them to eat. Jumping off the bed she went across to the traveling case where her clothes were stored. She drew out the hooded red cloak and draped it around her shoulders, twirling for her silent audience. Just right for hunting the big bad wolf.

The End

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