Title: Etiquette

Fandom: Btvs

Summary: Pre-Series Even an insane, evil vampiress obeys certain rules of etiquette.

A/N: Written for Moviequoteminis. Quote was: “You didn’t want the reverend to see the body? Well, not at tea. That wouldn’t have been very nice-“-Mortimer Brewster and Aunt Abby in Arsenic and Old Lace

 

 

 

 

She was beauty in the complete and utter breakdown, something to be in awe of the way one stands in veneration of a natural disaster. He watched her from the back of the church, content to let her shine.  The church was a masterpiece of blood and death, her piece de resistance to date. He knew as he watched her carve intricate designs into the nun’s papery skin that with the right mentor, him of course, she would eventually supersede even this. She froze mid design, her entire body on alert, and began to tremble. Her eyes which had glistened with anticipation and excitement now clouded with fear.

 

“Quick, hide the bodies! Judgment comes in a white collar,” she alerted in hushed tones.

 

He rose from the pew, momentarily startled. He wondered if perhaps Holtz had caught up with them again. Dru’s dark beauty and depravity were not the only reasons to keep her around, although both were enjoyable in and of themselves. He glanced around the cathedral, noticing that only the bodies of worshippers and nuns surrounded them.

 

“The priest?” he asked.

 

She gave him a quick, child-like nod as she began to drag the bodies by the feet concealing them behind the altar.

 

“Dru, Love, humans have no place to cast judgment on the likes of us. We are immortal. They’re merely livestock,” he reminded her.

 

“Tis not the humans I’m worried about,” she whispered, casting her eyes up to the ceiling. This made him laugh uproariously.

 

“We are no longer God’s to judge. You needn’t worry. I’ll nab him when he walks in. I’ll even share,” he promised her.

 

“You mustn’t, mustn’t hurt the keeper of secrets, Daddy,” she chastised him. “Now help me hide the bodies.”

 

He rolled his eyes and cursed in Gaelic under his breath. He didn’t remind her that the blood and viscera that painted the church like ghoulish wall hanging would give away her deed the moment the priest walked in. No doubt she’d insist upon scrubbing the walls and the floors. When she got an idea in her head there was no getting it out. He grudgingly began following her lead, stacking corpses like cordwood behind the altar. When she was satisfied the bodies were out of immediate sight they slipped from the church to hide in the alley and watch as the priest approached.

 

“You didn’t want the priest to see the bodies?” he asked from their refuge in the shadows of the alley.

 

She gave him a coy smile. “Not during confessional. That wouldn’t have been very nice.”