They Say Hell Is
They say Hell is being locked in a room with your friends. It's not, as Darla is currently discovering. Hell is being locked in a room with someone you've always disliked.
"Does this mean they'll be no more pony rides?" Drusilla says whimsically.
That is number 423 on the list of things Darla hates about Drusilla. They're vampires, they have wreaked bloody havoc across half the known world, they have slaughtered innocent children and fucked in the blood. They are not supposed to be whimsical.
Darla kicks violently at the door, it stays solidly closed, she throws her body against it and it still remains stubbornly locked. "You bastard," Darla curses at the door as if it were the immortal, "you fucking bastard. When I get my hands on you I'll rip your heart out through your throat and eat it in front of you!"
"Rip a heart out, eat it up and all day long you'll have good luck," Drusilla sing songs.
"Shut up Dru," Darla orders, turning her back on the unbreakable door and slumping back against the wall. She calmed herself by envisioning the many violent ways the immortal would die when Angelus and William found out he'd taken Darla and Drusilla to his bed, then locked them up while he went out to spare some convent girls, convent girls whom Darla had been planning the massacre of since Brussels. Not only had he looked them up, he didn't even have the manners to chain them by their wrists from the ceiling like he'd done to Angelus and William, who did he think was the brains of the operation?
"Grandmum's angry, Grandmum's always angry, she'll be even angrier when they take him away because he won't want her anymore."
"Drusilla shut the fuck up, okay." Darla shouts. Maybe the immortal didn't feel like chaining them up, but the least he could have done is gagged Drusilla, out of concern for Darla's sanity if nothing else.
Darla slides down the wall until she is sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up against her. She amuses herself by taking stock of everything in the room that could be used to kill whatever pathetic little minion the immortal sends to release them. The ties from the four poster bed could be used to throttle him. He could be stabbed with the tall bottle of blood sitting on the table, break the bottle and slit his throat, it's been a long time since Darla's glassed anyone, bar fights have always been more Angelus' style. Any of the table or chair legs could be used as stakes, and they will be if Drusilla doesn't Shut Up.
Drusilla is sitting next to Darla, apparently unfazed by the fact that their supposed ally has just locked them up. She's still babbling on, "We haven't gotten long left together, the fanged four," Drusilla laughs and Darla vamps then returns to her human visage as the urge to punch Drusilla till she bleeds recedes slightly.
"I remember this vein," Drusilla carries on, she touches Darla's neck trailing the line of an artery with her fingernail. Darla growls and jerks her head away, wondering when Dru started taking liberties like touching her unsolicited. Immortal or no, Darla knows she shouldn't have taken Dru to bed that time, you shouldn't encourage children.
"I bit down," Drusilla ignores Darla's rejection and her finger returns to Darla's neck, this time wet as if she'd licked it, "Through the skin and I drank you all up, I could feel your nasty heart beating then it stopped and you were like me, cold, dead," Drusilla giggled, "evil."
"You're imagining things again Dru, that wasn't what happened, I turned Angelus, Angelus turned you, and you, being a couple of nuns short of a nunnery, turned Spike."
"That was how it happened last time," Drusilla's hair is against Darla's shoulder and breast and her lips are against Darla's cheek.
Darla growls and flips over grabbing Drusilla's wrists and biting right through her bottom lip which causes the taller vampire to push up against her. What they hell, they've got got God Knows how long to kill and at least this way she'll get to gag Dru.