Psychiatric Help Needed
Summary: Drusilla sees a psychiatrist.
whiffler wanted to read such a story, so hypnotized me with her Angel avatar to make me write it :P Hope y’all enjoy this little offering.
Raymond Walonsky had treated hundreds of patients in his 25 years as a psychiatrist, but this woman sitting before him was nothing he had ever come across before.
For nearly five hours, she had kept talking, in a trance-like state, about singing birds, dancing stars and goldfishes that were apparently swimming around in the air. Not to mention, that doll, ‘Miss Edith’, she kept in a tight grip and talked to as if it was a live person.
Raymond was sad to admit it, but this beautiful young woman before him was beyond repair. She was a goner. Not all the psychiatric help in this world could do anything for her.
“…They sing to me...the flowers wilt and tell me their secrets...” Drusilla sighed, rocking the doll back and forth.
The psychiatrist cleared his throat, “Well, Miss Drusilla, I think that’s enough.” He got up from his seat, looking at his wrist watch, “You can go outside now.”
“Why, do you not like me here?” the vampiress asked innocently, staring up at Raymond with wide eyes.
“That’s not it, Miss Drusilla.” Maybe it was, but it’d be rude to admit it, “I just need to talk to your boyfriend and, err, Daddy.” Another reason he thought she was crazy, because that man certainly wasn’t old enough to be her father.
Drusilla cocked her head, observing the man before her, and smiled. Raymond felt a shudder go down his spine. He didn’t like that smile.
“Daddy said he wants more corpses.” She cooed softly as she stood up, “More delightful corpses so the dirty Slayer will know.”
“C-corpses?” Raymond stuttered, then took several steps back when Drusilla started moving towards him.
“Pretty people, lying on the floor, all covered in red.” She sang in a soft voice, “Wouldn’t you like to be one of them?” Raymond squawked loudly in terror when her face changed. Topaz eyes stared at him intently, “Wouldn’t you?”
“Y’know, not that I don’t like the bloodshed and all,” Spike began as the screams started, flicking his cigarette to the floor, “but why kill psychiatrists? I mean, there are better ways to go about starting a massacre and distressing the Slayer than dragging Dru to shrinks’ offices.” It bored the shit out of him. He wanted in on the fun, not sitting outside in a dusty old waiting room and getting to kill receptionists that didn’t even try to run.
Angelus smirked evilly, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his seat.
“Well…?” the blond asked again.
“Well, William,” he threw an arm around the shorter vampire, much to said vampire’s chagrin, “I wanted to see whether or not today’s medicine and its people could cure my handiwork.”
“You’re kidding me? That’s what this is all about?” Spike gawked as Angelus threw his head back and laughed, “Seven soddin’ head-shrinkers, five wasted nights—and you were challenging modern medicine?”
Angelus’ smirk widened, “And I’m winning.”
Spike needed another smoke.