Chapter Two: Dru and Spike

"Spike, I want a corset like this one." Drusilla indicated the dress that the doll she held was swathed in. A black dress, tight at the neck, keeping close to the body all the way down the bodice before fluffing out at the skirt, and ah, the corset. A bright red corset covered in black embroidery, and lined with matching black lace along the top and bottom.

Pretty enough, he supposed.

"Of course, anything for you, pet." Spike kissed her brow, softly promising she'd be wearing it by the very next evening.


The tailor was working late into the night in his shabby little shop on main street, sweat beading his brow.

The papers littering his desk screamed the reason for his distress, and the words became more and more worrisome each time he reread the familiar sentences. He was almost entirely certain he could recite them from memory.

Payment overdue…


Final Notice…

Just not enough work for a tailor these days… The man shook the troubling thoughts from his head. It wouldn't do to linger on such things when there was work to be done, and if he finished this commission on time, he might just have enough to save his poor shop. Yes, just about enough. Just needed to keep working…

The pale blue fabric moved swiftly under his hands, the sewing machine devouring it hungrily and spitting it out again, bearing the marks of its teeth.

He started when he heard the bell above the door ringing, and glanced to the clock hanging on the wall incredulously. Who on Earth would possibly be coming in at this time of night?

He walked to the front of the shop, stretching as he went. These late nights would be the death of him, he swore.

"I'm sorry, sir, we're closed. If you'll come back in the morning, I'm sure I could help you then." Said the tailor as pleasantly as he could, as exhausted as he was.

"Oh, I'm afraid I won't be available then." Came the reply from the blond.

A cruel smile came to the stranger's face, and the tailor reached behind the counter for the gun that he hid behind the counter for such occasions when the stranger ran up to him and knocked him clean out.


Foggy indistinct sounds penetrated his consciousness, rousing him slowly.

"But when do I get to play with him?"

"Soon, pet. He won't do you very much good if he's still sleeping though, will he?"

And then… Some sort of odd whimpering noise.

Was there a dog here?

A groan escaped him before he could stop it, grabbing the attention of his abductors.

"Oh, oh look, Spike, he's awake. Can I play with him now?" Opening one eye slightly, the tailor saw that the voice belonged to a lovely young woman. She couldn't have been older than twenty five at the most, with the most gorgeous dark hair running down her back.

The tailor was struggling to right himself to speak to her when a foot came down on one of his legs, applying force and snapping it cleanly in two.

The tailor screamed out in pure agony at the searing pain in his leg, writhing on the ground, and gripping it to him.

Sobs wracked his frame as a hand gripped his chin and turned it firmly to look at its owner.

The tailor forced his eyes open to look at the assailant, seeing the blond man from his shop.

"You-" He choked out before another wave of pain hit him.

"Yes, me. Now listen buddy, I've got a favor to ask you. If you do this for me, I let you go. You don't… Well, I can always go for a snack."

The blond threw a doll on the tailor's chest. Funny little doll. And so very old.

"I want you to make the corset on that doll for my Dru." The tailor didn't miss the subtle emphasis on the word "Mine".

Do you understand?

The tailor managed to give a quick nod.

"Good then."


They constructed him a makeshift sort of cast to allow him limited mobility, and set him to work.

He had the man called Spike bring him the things he required from his shop, and began work on the thing.

He finished in record time, and presented it to his captors.

"Oh, it's not right. It's not right, Spike!" Said the girl he'd thought of as so beautiful.

So beautiful, but so ugly on the inside.

And there was that whimpering noise again. Ah, so it came from the girl. What a horrible sound.

"Well, you heard her, pal. Make her a new one." Said Spike.

And so he did. But every time, there was some sort of flaw.

This stitch is out of place.

These pleats are uneven.

This hem is wobbly.

Eventually, the tailor ran out of materials, and he had to ask the man called Spike to go to his shop to get more.


'Fine thing, this.' Thought Spike as he stalked toward town.

'Really, me going out and fetching and carrying for a bloody tailor. Dru had better love this ruddy thing.'

Spike broke into the shop for what seemed like the hundredth time, and went back to their little hideout.

"Hey, I've got the… Fabric or whatever." But his statement was met with only silence.

Confusion colored his thoughts as he made his way to the large dining area where they didn't eat.

"Hey, what's going on here, Dru…" He trailed off as he looked around at his surroundings.

The macabre scene in front of him was enough to stun even the great William the Bloody.

Intestines hung from the walls the way you might hang ribbons for a birthday party.

Pictures had been painted in blood on the walls.

Bits and pieces of person lay scattered around the room, and as Spike looked around, he saw Dru sitting on the floor, playing with a heart.

"Dru…" He began, "Is all of this… The tailor?"

"Maybe." Came the slightly apprehensive reply from the girl sitting on the floor.

"Oh, dammit, Dru! Who's going to finish your corset now? Did you even think about that?"

He regretted his words as soon as he said them.

That little whining noise started coming from Dru. Oh god.

He rushed to her side, holding her close.

"Oh, it's alright pet. I'll find someone else to finish it, okay?"


"Good. Now then," Said Spike, rubbing his hands together, "Do you feel like sharing, or should I go find my own dinner?"