Have I mentioned how much I hate him?

I want to pound on him until there isn't a bone left unbroken. I'd like to set him on fire and watch him go up like a torch. It would be oh so satisfying to tear his head off.

Drusilla doesn't come to me anymore. I could take her, but she wouldn't play along. She's got her playmate now. He gives her anything she desires. He's her knight, her lover, her caretaker and her child. He learned the games she likes and plays them with wild abandon.

She's his now and he's hers. She's beyond my reach.

Sometimes I wonder how much of her insanity is a result of what I did to her, and how much is from the sight. Seers often go mad. As a general rule, knowing what's coming is anything but comforting.

Dru's madness is a funny thing. Most of the time it's just the rhythm to her melody. But every now and then it jumps out and takes over -- that's when you've got to look out.

William had been with us for a week or two and he was still resisting us that night.

I rose before the others and went over to where she and he slept together. It was such an odd sight -- these two curled together as lovers, though I knew she wouldn't let him end his celibacy.

Dru sensed I was there, opened her eyes and looked up at me smiling her little girl smile -- looking as innocent as she'd been before she met me. Her dark hair was loose around her head as she lay there naked, curled up against his back.

"He'll steal the Angels' glory," she said sweetly. "Angelus flies towards the sun with wings they nailed to his back, but my prince will soar on wings he fashioned out of the light in his heart."

"What in the devil do you mean by that?" I asked. Silly question, she seldom understands what she says any more than I do.

"Poor Angelus," she said, "the light shines on him and he weeps for a hundred years. Cronus will laugh and laugh."

She started to giggle and William roused. He twisted his neck to peer over his shoulder and look at her, but didn't say anything. He seldom spoke in those days -- the answers to his questions were almost always things he didn't want to hear.

"Cronus is my champion and Angelus is Uranus," she said, running her fingernails lightly over his bare shoulder.

"Shut up!" I snapped. She can be so damn annoying when she gets off on these gibberish prophecies.

He glanced over at me, then back at her, and frowned. "I'm not planning on swallowing any children," he said seriously.

That's one of the really irritating things about him. He understands her! She can babble like the mad woman she is and he'll see just what she's talking about -- even back then, when he didn't understand anything about us, yet.

Drusilla started to whine. She was getting worked up and that's never good. She's a vampire, and there are few things more dangerous than a frenzied, insane vampire.

"Ooooo...." she keened, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking. "No, no, no, no, no."

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"She'll take my Cronus away," Dru cried. "No, no, no! I can't see her, only her golden hair."

She was up then and coming at me with teeth and claws. I don't suppose I was in any real danger, but it was disconcerting all the same. I batted her aside and she went for Darla, pouncing on her as she still lay in our bed.

"WHORE!" she shrieked.

I grabbed her around the waist and dragged her off.

"Harlot!" she screamed, her arms and legs flailing.

Darla was sitting up by now. "Well yes," she said dryly. "And your point is?"

"Help me get her tied down," I shouted as Dru bucked and windmilled in my grip. I was in danger of losing her any moment. She was strong -- as strong as a vampire, naturally. I was stronger, of course, but in her current state she was capable of momentary surges that might overcome my hold on her at any moment.

As Dru continued to struggle in my arms, William got out of bed came over to us. He tried to put a hand on her face, and got a nasty bite on his finger for his trouble.

Then he had an idea -- I saw it light up in his eyes. He went to the corner where Dru's doll collection was arranged on a table. I wonder whether he would have touched any of them if he'd known how Dru went about collecting them, but that's beside the point. He picked one out and brought it over to where I continued to restrain its current owner.

"Drusilla, princess, Miss Edith is crying," he said quietly.

Dru stopped struggling. She wailed inarticulately, but her frenzied motion calmed.

William held the doll out to her. "She wants her mummy." He stepped closer and pressed the doll to her breast. He took her hand and guided it up to hold it.

"There, see? She's better now. She just needed a hug."

I released my grip on her, and Dru collapsed into William's arms sobbing. He took her back to the bed and sat down with her, holding her and rocking her.

"You're fine now, princess," he said softly. "Everything will be all right." He stroked her hair and face, and kissed her tenderly. He brushed away her tears and kissed her eyelids.

"Why was Miss Edith crying?" she asked.

"Miss Annabelle was rude to her," William explained patiently. "She wouldn't answer when Miss Edith talked to her."

"Bad, rude Miss Annabelle."

"Yes, Miss Annabelle was very naughty. Miss Cora is taking her to task for it."

He went on and on, weaving a complicated tale of the dolls' family life. Dru hung on every word. She was calm now, and sinking toward the unconsciousness that always followed her frenzied episodes. As her head drooped, William laid her back on the bed and arranged the coverlet around and over her.

"William?"

"Yes, princess?"

"Will you stay with me forever?"

"Of course I will. Forever, princess."

I had retreated as soon as William took Dru off my hands. Darla and I watched as he calmed her and put her back to bed.

"Well, well," Darla said softly. "It seems our odd, useless William has a skill after all."

I nodded. I had to agree.

"Do you realize he knows the names of all her dolls?" Darla said in awe. "Who would listen to her as she natters on about them?"

"He would, apparently."

For the first time since he joined us, I could actually see an advantage to having William around. Neither Darla nor myself had ever calmed Drusilla as quickly or effectively.

So, I was feeling a bit kinder toward the git that night. That's my excuse. I wanted to make things a little easier on him. Not a characteristic sentiment on my part, but odd impulses hit me now and then.

I invited him to come along on my night's hunt.

"I'm not going to kill ..."

I waved him off. "You don't have to. Surely you'd like to get out for a bit, wouldn't you? You've been cooped up in here for days."

"I think I should stay with Drusilla," he said uncertainly.

"Darla will look after her, won't you sweetheart?"

Darla rolled her eyes. She was not exactly the nurturing type. "Oh, all right. But you have to bring me back someone."

"I'll bring you someone plump and juicy, my love."

------------

We walked the dark streets together that night. I was doing most of the talking, explaining the best places to make a kill -- where there would be no interruptions, how to choose someone who would not be missed too quickly.

I knew he wasn't listening. His mind was very much elsewhere. He walked along beside me, looking at the pavement most of the time.

Suddenly, he stopped and looked distressed.

"What's on your mind, William?" I asked.

"I'm not going to last very long, am I?"

I chuckled. "Probably not. Our kind survives by strength. And you aren't building much -- resisting feeding and all."

He went all silent again, and I stopped trying to lecture him. There wasn't much point. So, we just walked.

We were passing through an alley when we came across two extremely drunken young men and their low-rent whore. Only the lowest of London's ladies of the night will service clients in an alley. The girl, a skinny, skanky thing with a pockmarked face and greasy, stringy hair, was on her knees working on the buttons on one of the drunks' trousers.

The men were unremarkable. By their dress, they were young barristers or businessmen -- the sort who have enough money to live well, but still have to work for a living. The one about to have a blow job was leaning back against the wall -- he was drunk enough that he'd probably fall over otherwise. The other was giggling and snickering as he made disparaging comments about the girl's beauty and virtue.

I smiled. This was the sort of meal I liked best. Not too much trouble to kill, and enough alcohol in their blood that I'd get a nice buzz on. One of them might escape, but they wouldn't be bringing the police very soon. The girl wouldn't go to the police in the first place. The men were so inebriated they'd have trouble explaining what was wrong.

I started toward them, but felt William's hand on my sleeve.

"No. Not them," he said in a strange, horrified voice.

That wouldn't have stopped me. I knew about his reservations, and his reservations were not about to stand between me and a meal. But I glanced at him and suddenly realized that it wasn't so much that I was about to make a kill that was horrifying him -- he knew these two. I could see the recognition in his eyes.

Well, that wasn't going to stop me either. I started towards them.

"Matthew! Eugene!" William called out.

The two drunks looked over and saw me coming toward them. I stopped, since William's warning might turn this into a brawl.

"Who's there?" one of them called out.

The idiots stood there peering into the dark, trying to see who had called out to them. If they'd run, they might have survived.

"I know that voice. Who is it?"

William stepped out of the shadows and they saw him.

"William? Is that you?" the one with the half-unbuttoned trousers slurred. "What are you doing here?"

"Perhaps I should take you home, Matthew," William said.

"Like hell you will," I said crossly. He wasn't going to rob me of my supper.

"Look, William has taken to associating with Irish louts," Eugene said, coming toward me barely able to stay on his feet.

"William has new friends," Matthew said. "He doesn't like us anymore."

"Bloody good," Eugene said, dissolving into giggles. "Maybe we won't have to listen to his poetry anymore."

The whore was off her knees now and backing away. The girls who worked the streets at night learned to recognize our kind -- or they didn't last long. She knew there was little chance she was going to be paid tonight.

"Wait a minute," Matthew slurred. "We went to your funeral. You were dead."

Eugene looked confused. "Did we? Would we have gone to his funeral?"

"There was a lunch," Matthew replied. The two drunks started to giggle again.

For that single moment, I felt sorry for William. What a wretched life he must have had to see these two as friends.

"Go home," William said firmly. "You don't know what sort of trouble you're in."

"Trouble we're in?" Eugene said. "I can't wait to tell Cecily I've seen you. That should ruin the bint's day."

"Why'd you do it?" Matthew said muzzily. "Debts?"

"Do what?"

"Fake your death. I think the authorities are going to be interested to hear you're still walking around."

I started to laugh. "I think you've jumped to the wrong conclusion, gentlemen. Not everyone who's walking around is still alive."

"Get out of here," William said fiercely. "You don't know what's going to happen..."

Matthew smirked. "Forget the authorities. I'm going to tell your mo..."

He never finished the sentence. William hit him. It wasn't a very good blow. William had more strength than a human, but he had no idea about how to use it. He struck out awkwardly. From the way he swung that fist, I'm certain he'd never hit anyone before in his life. But the young drunk was far from steady on his feet and he fell backward to the pavement. William stood over him glowering.

"Very good," I said, applauding briefly. "But really, you need to swing so you put your weight behind it and carry through. Here, watch me." I hit the other young man with a blow that knocked him back ten feet to fall and skid on the ground.

Matthew was gathering himself to scramble to his feet.

"You bloody berk," he mumbled as he struggled to get to his hands and knees. "I'll take you apart."

William bent down and hauled him up by the collar. He copied my motion when he hit him the second time. Matthew flew backward and hit the wall.

Matthew was out cold, but William looked almost as stunned. He stared at his fist, not quite believing the power he'd felt as he used it.

Eugene was starting to scramble to his feet so I went over and put my foot on his back.

"Stay down, moron," I growled. "If you get up now, I'll have to kill you."

William stood transfixed. He didn't seem to know what to do next.

"You'd better finish him off," I said.

He knew he had to now. There was no going back. William went over and picked up the limp body and stood him up against the wall. He hit him eight or nine more times, reducing the face that had been Matthew's to a bloody pulp. The interesting thing was, he wasn't in the grips of bloodlust. It was all very deliberate. He was testing his strength -- experimenting with the effects of different ways of swinging his fist.

But it was getting tedious. "William, for pity's sake, just kill him. It's going to take all night that way."

William gave me a questioning look. It occurred to me that he didn't know how.

"Put one hand on his chin and the other on the back of his head. Give it a quick jerk," I explained.

William did as I said and Matthew's life ended. William let the body fall to the ground.

Eugene had started to struggle beneath my foot.

"You want to do this one, or shall I?"

William came over and looked down at Eugene.

"I'll do it," he said, his voice so cold and dead that it gave even me a chill.

I took my foot off Eugene's back and he start to scramble away, terror overcoming his drunkenness.

"William," he pleaded, scrabbling along the ground crabwise. "There's no need. I won't tell anyone I saw you. Really. For God's sake, William... Please... Don't..."

The smell of fear was palpable and it mingled with a new odor as the poor sod soiled himself.

William picked him up and held him by the lapels. He had his back to me, but he swung around so I could see. He'd gone into demon face -- for the first time since the night he rose. I saw what Eugene saw last, yellow eyes, glittering fangs and wrinkled forehead. William snarled then sank his teeth into Eugene's neck.

------------

That was it -- the moment when sweet William finally became a vampire.

What pushed him over the edge? Hard to say really. He killed the first one because the poor bastard was about to say something about his mother, and William didn't want me to hear it. The second one, he killed because he'd crossed the line and there was no going back.

But that was only part of it. I think that even before he took that first swing with his fist, he realized he couldn't hold onto his humanity and keep his promise to Dru.

Isn't that a laugh? He became a ruthless, cold-blooded killer for the sake of love. He learned to love killing, to suck up death like a drug and live off it.

Now I have to look at him every night -- him and Dru. They're bound together like Siamese twins. He seldom leaves her side. I hate it when they put their heads together and smirk at Darla and me.

I've never known the sort of love they share. My thing with Darla is casual and inconstant. She's betrayed me enough times and I her.

If I never saw her again after today, it would cause me little pain.

But that's not how William and Drusilla are. They're practically one being now. He lives to serve her, and she lives through him. He's her sanity. He catches her when she starts to fall and keeps her in the world.

Have I mentioned how much I hate him? And it's more than that. He's taken something from me.

Oh, not Drusilla. I made her, but she was never really mine. No, he took something more precious that the crazy slut.

I was the master of all I knew. In my long unlife so far, I'd never encountered anything I wasn't certain I could overcome -- until William embraced the demon inside him.

I'm stronger than he is -- I'm pretty sure. If we fight, I'll win -- chances are. He's strong and ruthless, but not a brute.

However there's something I see shining out of his eyes at odd moments. Something that won't be defeated no matter what it comes up against. I see glimpses of that and it sends a chill down my spine. I know that no matter how hard I fight him, he'll keep getting up and coming at me again.

The only way to be certain he doesn't defeat me is to never fight him. And that makes me feel like a eunuch.

He explained part of Dru's crazy prophecy to me, you know. He was standing there in the alley over the drained body of his former so-called friend. He looked up at me and smiled.

"Cronus and Uranus were Titans," he said. "They came before the gods of Olympus. Uranus was the son of Gaea, the Earth mother. He ruled the sky until Cronus came and castrated him." William grinned and showed me his teeth. "Then Cronus and Rhea ruled in his place."

God, I hate him.

The End