Becoming What, Exactly?: Part 1
by Theory Queen
Disclaimer: This takes place after "Becoming I & II." They're all Joss Whedon's except for the story line, Joe, Linda, and to a small extent, Adam. Those are mine. Any similarities to any person, living or undead, is purely coincidental. See if you can find all the random nods and digs to pop culture and other Buffy fanfic I stuck in!
Feedback is welcome but not really expected, as I wrote the story mainly to please myself. If you like it or hate it feel free to tell me so - as long as you also tell me why. I hate opinions backed by fluff. Read and enjoy. Or snarl, froth, giggle, or whatever. I've already done all that and more.
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Spike slammed the car into gear and took off. As he rounded a corner, he noticed Dru's head rolling to the motion of the car. He hauled her over next to him and put a determined arm around her. He had to find a place for the two of them to hole up for the day, and he was afraid of Dru's waking up before he found one. In a fit of despair and anger, she might open the car door and immolate them both.
He passed what looked like an abandoned house and backed up to get a better look. Ah, just the thing. He pulled in and parked behind the barn, using the shadow of it to shelter himself and Drusilla from the sun while he dragged her inside to safety.
Inside, he glanced around. The house looked as if it hadn't been lived in for at least a year. He knew Dru would probably want to sleep in one of the bedrooms, but he didn't want to take any chances. He found the door leading down to the dank earth basement and carried her down the narrow cellar stairs. He laid her gently on the ground and sniffed, wrinkling his nose. Definitely unused for at least a year, he decided. Well, then. He lay down next to her and composed himself for sleep. It didn't come. He waited. It still didn't come.
He was therefore wide-awake when he heard the barest hint of movement next to him. Out of instinct, he threw up an arm to ward off the attack. Quickly rolling out of the way, he saw the light of battle in Drusilla's icy grey eyes. He cursed. "Bloody hell! Dru, will you give me a minute? Let me explain!" He was reasonably confidant that she'd melt and forgive him when she heard his explanation: that he missed her, and he didn't want the world to end.
Unfortunately, she wasn't giving him a chance to explain. She shrieked with rage and swiped his face with her nails. He growled and grabbed her wrists, pinning her down underneath him. He dimly recalled the old days when they used to do things like this for fun, instead of for self-defense.
"Now listen, pet -- " he began, but she interrupted him.
"You're not my little Spike anymore," she whimpered in one of her lightning-fast mood swings. "You attacked me. You kidnapped me, and didn't bring my dolls. You collaborated with the slayer, and you hurt my Angel!" She cried, and made another feeble swipe.
"Yes, I'm sorry about that, luv. Well, most of it, anyway." He smiled again at the sweet memory of kicking Angel's teeth in. "I just did what I thought would be best. And cheer up anyway; when we left, it looked like Angel was about to have a bowl of slayer with milk for breakfast. Hell could still open up, you know." He hoped like anything that he was wrong; he had to have faith in the slayer. He'd seen her resourcefulness before; he knew she could pull off some amazing things. Like making him and Drusilla leave town, for instance, he reminded himself before he went too far on his slayer-admiration kick. Sick.
"No, no, it won't open now." Drusilla's eyes took on a glassy look. "It's gone now, and so is my Angel. And so is the slayer. They've all gone to the same place, but the slayer's place is somewhere else." She finished dreamily.
Spike sighed impatiently. Her visions were all well and good, but he wished sometimes that she could speak a little plainer. "You mean the slayer's gone? Where?"
"To hell." She answered. Spike was surprised. Can't get much plainer than that. She finally relaxed under him, and he risked letting her go. She stretched. "Spike? Where are we going?"
"First to New York, so we can arrange to go home. How would you like another visit to Prague?"
"Do you think they'll still be waiting for me there? They hurt me, Spike." She moaned.
"No, no, pet, they'll have forgotten all about you by now. You'll have to remind them all over again, my love." He smoothed her hair.
"That's my a
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