Terror on Tires
D M Evans
Disclaimer - Not mine. They belong to Joss Whedon et al. Im just having non profit fun
Rating – PG-13
Time Line – 1960's, USA
Pairing - Spike/Dru
Summary – Dru makes an unusual request of Spike.
Author's Note – this was written for ficvariations and is an expansion of a drabble written for openonSunday.
"I have to be barmy," Spike groaned. "You'll wreck it." His pet just didn't appreciate a fine car. The convertible was slick, deep blue with white interior. This had been its previous owner's pride and joy until Dru tore his throat out. Spike had wanted the kill for himself but Dru had been the one who managed to lure the man away from the vehicle. Spike let her have her fun while he filched the man's keys. They had chucked him behind a few cars in the parking lot and Spike had taken them cruising, Dru laughing as her long hair fluttered like a flag behind her. Her sudden request had surprised him. She had never evidenced any interest in driving before. Still, Spike couldn't deny Drusilla anything so he had taken them to an abandoned lot and let her in the driver's seat.
"Stolen anyhow." Dru shrugged, wrapping her manicured fingers around the steering wheel. The red of her nails looked good against the black of the wheel. "Teach me to drive, Spike."
Against his better judgment, Spike spent the early hours of the evening teaching Drusilla about brakes, clutches and gas pedals and the all important, how to steer. The big convertible lurched around as she got the hang of shifting and using the clutch. Spike was left nursing multiple bruises from slamming into the dashboard and a sore neck by the time he was able to explain the proper way to use both her feet and how to baby the gears.
Finally, Dru built up enough skill to go cruising…right down the sidewalk, though she waited until they got to a more populated area to decide to forgo the asphalt. Laughing, she careened down the sidewalk, people running and screaming as the big convertible barreled along.
"Pet, drive on the street!" Spike screamed, bracing himself for impact. His new car! He was going to wring her neck!
Swerving to hit pedestrians, she grinned. "Why? It's more fun this way."
Spike winced as he heard the grill denting. So much for keeping this car for the long haul. Cops would be looking for it everywhere. Dru swung to the left, clipping a young man with the side panel. He somersaulted into the convertible, practically landing on Spike.
"Hold him up. Let me have a taste," Dru commanded.
Spike grinned, complying. "Hey, this is fun, ducks." He cocked the dazed boy's head back and they both had a feed, the car zooming back out on to the street as Dru forgot to drive. Spike tossed the emptied corpse out into traffic as the sounds of police sirens began to wail. "Time to pick up a little speed, sweetie."
Dru's delicate little foot tromped hard on the gas pedal and the engine roared. Spike had visions of out running the cops, a spectacular chase ensuing worthy of predators like him and Dru. Of course he hadn't quite counted on Dru being crazy enough to run a red light right in front of Semi.
The car went airborne, twisting as the metal sheered. He and Dru did some flying of their own separate from the ruined vehicle. Spike learned quickly how much it hurt to hit pavement going that fast. Clothing and flesh shredded as he went ass over tea kettle, finally coming to rest across the double yellow.
Picking himself, feeling bone grating, Spike glanced around for Drusilla, spotting her in the culvert. Limping over, he helped his dark rose up. With an unsteady hand, she wiped the blood from his forehead and licked her rouged flesh.
"You have to let me drive again, Spike," Dru crooned. "That was fun."
"Sure, pet," Spike made mental note to select a crappy car next time for her to ruin. "Let's just let the bones heal first, okay?"
Dru nodded contently and they staggered off to find some shelter to sleep it off.