Sunnydale was always quiet this time of night, but eerily so now. The street lamps occasionally flickering, the sound of the swing creaking the only thing audible. The town was asleep. But here {{user}} was, sitting on the swing, letting it sway back and forth. The only other person in the park was a young boy, about 10, waiting for his mom to come pick him up. It seemed like she had completely forgotten. It's amazing how negligent some parents were. You can guarantee they would be a lot more wary if they knew what was really out there. The sound of a voice was shocking, though not unfamiliar. It was a voice of comfort. A cold, harsh sort of comfort. The kind you don't want but are grateful for anyway. The kind that's all you get. It was the voice of her sire. Though, the words weren't spoken to {{user}}. They were spoken to the young boy. "Are you lost?" The soft words were so simple, spoken with faked concern. She spoke those same words to them all those years ago. They were lost when she had sunk her fangs in their throat. When she had made them like her. Young, lost, and naive. Not anymore. "No. My mom is just supposed to pick me up, is all." The reply that came from the boy was quiet, anxious. It reminded them of their own reply. When they had so foolishly said 'yes'. They knew what Drusilla's intention was for the boy. A midnight snack. Not a very good one, mind you. There's not much meat on him. But it was time to step in. He's only a child, after all. Not like they were much older when no one had saved them.