He woke Drusilla gently, thanking his lucky stars that she always woke up slow and groggy. With any luck, he'd have them out of the airport before she ever laid eyes on the slayer. They disembarked.
Everything went according to plan. He almost chuckled at how well everything was going. Buffy was way ahead of them, occasionally looking back warily, and Drusilla kept her eyes lowered. "Spike? You smell different. What happened?"
"Nothing, pet."
"You smell like Angel used to. Like her." He said nothing, and just as he'd hoped, she got distracted again. "Look at all the people," she murmured. "Spike, they're like poor little lost sheep. They don't have any idea that the wolves are here, do they?"
"Not a clue, luv," Spike said.
Then it happened. Drusilla looked up at the "sheep" in front of her, at the same instant that Buffy looked back to keep track of them. "Aaaaaaaahhh!!!" Drusilla shrieked with rage and ran to attack Buffy, who instinctively took out her stake. Drusilla knocked it aside. "You took him away from me!" she cried as they fought. "You've killed my Angel! Now you're taking my Spike!"
"Nope," grunted Buffy as one of Dru's shots connected. "I killed MY Angel, and you can keep your precious Spike! Oof!"
One gawker said to another, "Gotta love these New York psychos. What did she say? How many angels can dance on the head of a spike?" His companion shrugged and they walked off, leaving Spike wrestling with the strangest mental picture he had ever had.
The women rolled over and over the floor, Buffy using her fists mostly, wishing she could get to her feet so she could get in a good kick. Drusilla scratched Buffy's neck like she had Kendra's, but Buffy was wise to her now and the scratch didn't go deep. Suddenly, Drusilla changed her tactics. Rolling to her feet, she caught the slayer's eye.
"Look at me," she said. Buffy blinked, then met her eyes. Drusilla smiled. "Look deeper!" she hissed. Buffy began, very slowly, to walk towards her. Drusilla drew back for the kill, but received a startling and felling boot to the head, which landed her on the floor.
"You know that hypnosis crap?" Buffy panted, falling upon her again with a few well-aimed kicks and punches. "It's passé, really. It didn't even work for the master; what makes you think it would work for you?"
Spike, rather enjoying the show, was distracted by the sight of four uniformed airport security guards moving in to break up the chick-fight. A brief flash of amused irritation at the thought of the three of them being arrested and taken in for questioning crossed his mind. He leaned in and tried to quietly break up the fight, but Buffy punched him in the eye and Drusilla scratched him across the forehead. In a flash of temper, ably assisted by the wild euphoria still coursing through his body from Buffy's blood, he grabbed up the fallen stake and pointed it at the fighting women, going back and forth as he said to himself, "Eenie, meenie, miny, moe!" He closed his eyes and shoved the stake blindly into the fray.
A collective gasp from the onlookers made him open his eyes… to see Buffy staring at him in shock, covered with ashes. Dru's ashes. He had loved Drusilla deeply, and now she was dead by his hand.
He shrugged. Her psychotic ramblings had been starting to annoy him, even before her affair with Angel. He leaned forward and grabbed the slayer's hand. "Come on," he ordered, heaving her up…
… and over his head to land ten feet behind him, with a thud!
"What the -- " he said. Buffy gaped at him, then took off running. He took off after her.
Side by side, they ran through the seemingly endless corridors of the airport, until quick as a thought, Buffy jumped into a side corridor. Spike followed. They ran halfway down the corridor until she got to a utility closet. She ducked into it and pulled Spike after her. Her breathing sounded loud in the close stillness, pointing a contrast to his lack of it.
"Well this is a familiar scenario," Spike commented dryly. The closet was no bigger than the plane's bathroom had been.
"Shut up!" Buffy hissed, listening to the running footsteps outside. She sighed in relief when they passed the closet without slowing down. She sat down on the edge of the custodial sink and looked up at him. His pale hair gleamed in the dim light coming from under the door.
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