Drusilla walked into the room and smiled blithely as she spotted the pretty blonde. Her boy did pick lovely presents. She made her way over to him, her eyes studying the human. So broken and pretty and hopeless. "My sweet boy," she said happily, "always so good to me. She smells like sunlight and desolation. Pretty little rivers run red. Does she scream as pretty as she bleeds?"
She turned to Darla. "Just need daddy. Then everything will be right. The flickering flames make him sad and broken. The witch can fix him like she fixed my boy." She wrapped her arms around Spike's waist, pressing close to him. She had missed him so.