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Story Notes:
Originally posted November 29, 2004
The park was a dangerous place at night.

She had heard this many times since arriving in this town, and knew it was a risk walking amongst the trees after the sun went down. But she was not frightened of the dark. There was comfort in the night, magic in the air, a warmth that spread over her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. When she went out alone, she always went to the park, where the night was darkest, where the shadows played.

She felt at home amongst the shadows of the night. Darkness called to her, whispering sweet melodies that provided a sense of peace amongst the madness. She would dance for the stars, watching the moon as she twirled until the entire world was upside down. And then she would hunt. There was always food to be found, blood ripe with fear, heightened by desire. She was careful, hiding from those that need not see her. It was dangerous here, they told her often, not believing she was strong, not confident that she could take care of herself.

They misjudged her, dismissed her as dependent and played their beloved parts of dominant caretaker. She did not bother to correct their perception of her. She knew she was special, had always known that she was no ordinary. The stars did not talk to just anyone, after all. They wanted her to need them so she did as was expected. Until tonight. This evening, everything had changed. They would be angry with her, she would be punished, but what was done was done and now they would know that she was strong and had needs of her own.

It was a beautiful evening. She had woken with a sense of excitement, a feeling that something was going to happen. When they had mentioned her not hunting alone, she had distracted them before sneaking away, quiet as a mouse. Once she was free of them, she had gone to the park. The stars were full of songs, enchanting melodies that had her humming as she walked. After feeding quickly, she had danced in the shadows as she waited for her surprise.

When the moon was high in the sky above, the pale rays casting the world in an ethereal glow, she had seen her. She had known instantly that this was the surprise of which the stars sang. Such a pretty young girl, just a few years younger than she had been when she had viewed her last sunrise all those years ago. There was no hesitation in her movements as she had crept forward to claim her prize.

The girl had fought at first, mentioning the slayer’s name with an unwavering confidence that the girl would save her, calling out before she had quickly covered her mouth. It was fascinating to watch her prey fight. It happened so rarely that she had played with her, letting her believe she might escape before securing her once again. The tears had smelled so sweet, tasting bitter on her tongue as she had lapped them from pale cheeks. Auburn hair so soft on her hands as she had pulled the struggling girl’s head back, baring a graceful neck to her hungry eyes.

It had been over a century since she had performed the act, driven by instinct older than time as her teeth had pierced the heated flesh. She tasted of innocence and magic, her blood thick, flowing like wine as she drank her fill. When the girl’s breathing became ragged, she had raised her head, looking at her quarry for a moment before biting her wrist. The girl’s eyes had been dazed, glassy with approaching death, watching without seeing as she had placed her wrist against the redhead’s lips. It had taken little time before the lips began to move, suckling from her wrist as she licked the bite on the girl’s neck.

She had held her as she died, sitting beneath the large tree with the redhead in her lap. Such a pretty young girl, brave and strong. She gently brushed her daughter’s hair with her fingers, singing softly as she waited for her to awaken. This girl, this Willow, according to the name in her notebook, would love her, would need her. Together, they would never again be lonely or ignored. Drusilla smiled tenderly as she brushed her lips against her child’s forehead, feeling her begin to stir. The night would belong to them.

The End.