His Tender Mercies
In the two hundred years of Drusilla's existence, there were exactly two people who hadn't underestimated her: Angelus and Spike. Angelus because he'd created her, and Spike because she had created him. So it was that when Wolfram & Hart accidentally brought her back with their spell, rather than Darla as they had intended, it didn't take her very long to escape.
Just because she was crazy didn't mean she wasn't cunning.
It was, in fact, Drusilla's very insanity that buffered her against the disorientation of the spell. She was used to things seeming a bit strange, and so suddenly returning as human—after she'd been dusted by her current lover—didn't phase her a bit. She overheard the lawyers talking about their mistake and how they were going to fix it.
They thought they could use her to get to Angel.
Drusilla wasn't sure what she thought about that, but somewhere in the vague recesses of her scattered mind, she knew that she wasn't ready to see Angelus again. Her soul remembered his cruelties; without the demon present, she had no real appreciation of pain. Not like she'd had before.
There was only one person that Drusilla wanted to see. Spike had taken care of her last time she was ill. He had performed the ceremony that brought her back to full strength again.
He loved her, even if the Slayer had been floating around his head.
Drusilla listened to the stars; their voices were still clear even when the walls closed in around her. She waited until they told her the time to escape was ripe; it helped that no one thought she was capable of thinking for herself.
She slipped out of the apartment they had secured for her. The guard had long since stopped worrying about the crazy—though meek—woman they had him watching. He was asleep, soundly so. The stars had told her that as well.
Drusilla sang to herself as she waited to find the right person to hitch a ride to Sunnydale with. She was certain the pixies would point out the perfect person. "Run and catch, run and catch, the lamb is caught in the blackberry patch."
She swished the skirt of the pretty dress that lawyer had found for her. He had been kind, had spoken softly, but Drusilla had seen his heart. Black as pitch it was. He couldn't be trusted—nor could anyone else at the law firm. They had their own plans that Drusilla wanted no part of.
She had her own goals in mind.