This is a fic for Blueninjatori – LOL I can't believe I'm doing this, I'm already writing two fics at the moment, but hey… the idea Blueninjatori pitched to me was too interesting to pass up on. Hope I do it justice!

When Willow's resurrection spell in season 6 goes wrong, a version of Buffy is transported back in time, to 1998 – at the time of parent-teacher night. Now she's stuck in the body of an evil vampire, Drusilla, soulless and terrified of getting staked by the seventeen-year-old version of herself. Can Buffy live without a soul?

Release

"Osiris, release her!" Willow's spell was gaining momentum now, and she was clouded in a red, swirling mist. This spell was clearly draining her life-force, pulling every last ounce of energy she had from deep within her, but still she shouted. She shouted as deep gashes appeared in her skin, as she bled and paled… still she shouted. She had to release her. She had to release Buffy.

Buffy was warm and comfortable. It was nice. Really, really nice. This was probably the happiest she'd ever felt in, well… ever. Her friends were safe and happy, she knew that. And so was she, so safe and so happy and so… spinning. What the…? Heaven wasn't supposed to be a spinny place. Heaven was a comfy place. And why was she suddenly so very, very cold? She could feel wind kissing her bare limbs now, something she hadn't felt in months… it wasn't great. She could feel powerful rushes coursing through her, and, with a gut-wrenching pain, she felt her lungs open out as she pulled in a struggling mouthful of air, and another and another… and then there was the impact. She felt her own essence falling – more with the windiness – and suddenly she was very much alive. Her limbs tingled, her chest shuddered with laboured breaths, her ears rang… yet she could feel no heartbeat. No warmth. There was no blood rushing in her ears. But yes, oh yes, she was very much alive. And vibrating, she noted with annoyance. Why was she vibrating? As she gingerly wriggled her blood-less limbs, she realised it wasn't her that was vibrating, it was whatever she was lying on. Where was she? She was cold, aching… definitely injured… was she in hell? Had she been punished for something? Was this hell? Slowly, she opened one eye and then the other. Gods, it was bright… The light hurt her eyes and she flinched in anger, feeling an unnecessarily large rush of vehemence at her situation. As the anger flooded through her, she felt her face… melt? Yes, that was probably the right word. It changed, and in this position felt slightly pinched. Her eyesight was better though. The light didn't hurt as much anymore. What was happening? She wriggled again, her anger giving way to confusion and she felt her face melt back again. She, ever so slowly, raised a hand and ran it over her face – NOT her face. Her nose was shorter, her lips thinner… her eyes set further apart… this wasn't her. Nor was the hand. It was longer, thinner… and had a bitching manicure! The nails were black, with white tips – almost psychotic. What the hell was going on? Giles would have answers… not that she'd let him give them. Here's the other weird thing, as much as she felt like herself, she most definitely wasn't. She didn't want to sink her teeth into the necks of her friends. At least, she didn't used to. Now, the prospect was positively engaging. Still, her friends might be a bit more fun… is this what hell did? Turned you into an evil blood-lust-y guy? If so, she actually kinda liked it… She chuckled slightly under her breath.

"You're awake, pet," a smooth, low, English drawl – horrifyingly familiar - sounded from up ahead of her. And here she thought hell was an 'all by myself-oooh-ooh-don't-wanna-be' kinda place. Apparently not.

The thing that most stunned Buffy next was not, in fact, what she said… but the accent in which she said it. "Hell's better than I thought it'd be. Least I'm not all sad." She had a light, innocent cockney accent, with very rounded, drawn-out vowels.

That sultry voice chuckled, "you're not in hell, pet. In fact, we're in just about the brightest place on the planet."

"Bright..bad…" Buffy murmured, cracking her eyes a little more, trying to take stock of the sexy-voiced man sitting ahead of her… in the car. He was driving the car that they were in. Okay. Not hell. Car. With sexy English guy. Things could be worse, she mused to herself.

"Yeah, well, the sunlight don't do no favours for you or me, Drusilla, pet. We get all dusty and the like."

So she was definitely a vampire then… that'd explain the bumpies. And the gross-creepy-but-ever-so-inviting blood lust. Wait – what? Drusilla?

"M'not Drusilla…"

"Whatever you say pet, what'd you prefer tonight? Mistress, perhaps? If you're a good girl Spikey'll let you play dom," he turned, craning his head over the back of the driver's seat and giving her a devilishly sexy wink. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God… Spike. She was in the car with Spike. Wait, again with the huh!? Spike wasn't with Drusilla, at least not when she'd jumped… So this body she was in… she knew it wasn't hers. She wasn't a vampire. At least, she wasn't when she jumped off the tower… Nothing made sense. Her head was all hurt-y and Spike… God, she'd thought he was good. She thought he really cared about her, about Dawn… about all of them. And now he was back with Drusilla – or at least Dru's body… He didn't seem so good anymore. And in the weirdest, most twisted way, she totally loved it.

What had happened? Why was she like this? Honestly, she was pretty sure that it didn't really matter. All she knew was that she'd been freed… the demon inside her was just beginning to rear its ugly head.

Would she tell him? Would she explain to him that she was Buffy, all cooped up in Drusilla's body? How could she? He'd never believe her. Dru was crazy. She'd learned that much in all her years of knowing the Fanged Four – individually they were powerful vampires (Dru, albeit crazy) and when they teamed up, they were next to unstoppable. What if she had the opportunity to become a part of that now? As Drusilla… The thought made her body hum, her mouth water. She wasn't sure where these blood-lust-y thoughts were coming from, but they made her feel all warm and tingly. Having no soul really did seem to have its perks.

"Now pet, I think we're nearly here… you remember what we're gonna do?"

"Not so much…" Buffy rubbed her – Drusilla's – pounding temples.

"We're gonna watch the slayer burn."

Hope it's alright – Buffy's all evil, fun! Read and review pretty please! No update for a while – not internet for a week, but will get into a regular pattern ASAP. xx