Times Of Change She was a pretty thing. Beautiful, but potentially lethal, the vampiress enjoyed Las Vegas, for what it was worth.
The only trouble was that, as wonderful and attractive as all that twinkling neon could be, for one such as Drusilla, who existed far more in the world of spirit, than physical body, it could be slightly superficial, in a way ordinary human beings would not necessarily detect. Still, it was also a place of hopes and dreams and she liked those.
And she had been thinking... Thinking about moving from here. It was perhaps surprising that the 'Princess' had lasted here, for as long as she had, but Las Vegas held much in it of spectacle. Enough to fascinate even her. Nevertheless, she was pondering England, again. Certain places in it... Locations she both feared to revisit and yet, at times, could not help but feel a pull towards, again. They were special to her; hauntingly so. Areas which had, quite literally, changed her, forever. Oh, it had taken time, but each one, nevertheless, could perhaps be seen as one more stepping stone on a road to damnation, when all she had once wanted was to be saved.
Wanted herself to be saved.
Wanted loved ones to be saved.
Little Anne...
Feeling a touch of meloncholy, the huntress flickered eyelids, glancing down. To a halt, she came, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, while all around her, human beings milled around in a crowd, making their way down the infamous 'Strip'. That long, long road, where tourists could stand and stare in awe of things both impressive and relaxing.
A street... Angelus saw her on a street, once.
A roof-top examination of the crowd had yielded almost no results, so, Spike was forced to a search on the ground for potential supernaturals. Capture, kill... It really did not matter. Spike had the badge and the weapons and it was ultimately up to him to decide what to do. He was technically supposed to recruit help for Project Integration, but if someone or something gave him grief, Spike could dust the bastard.
But given his condition, Spike kept his search mainly to demons and vampires. Going after Slayers was probably not the best idea, because chances were, the Slayers would know who he was and deal with him accordingly. Spike might have a soul and government-issued badge, but killing two Slayers was something one did not easily walk away.
Spike stopped for a moment, peering over the throngs of people walking the Strip. He sensed a vampire nearby and placed an idle hand on his stake. He sniffed, sensing a familiar aroma. He took two steps before realising where he recognised the scent from. A sigh and Spike released his hold on the weapon.
It was Drusilla.
"Bloody hell..."
Her returning statement was not exactly a reply. It was something reinforced over more than a century. Dru might not have even realised she had said it and, when she did so, it was quiet. Something the surrounding noise would drown out, for the most part.
"Spike... I'm cold."
The vampiress did, however, slowly begin to look up, head turning to greet another sight her attention was being pulled to. The last time they had met, both had come to a sort of understanding, although it seemed her prophetic message of him going on adventures with new colleagues was now coming to pass. Assuming that she had not been seeing even further into the future, of course. Nevertheless, the woman of dark hair saw him now. Saw him both as he was and had later changed to be. Time could be as much of a prison as something without substance, to her.
But Dru said nothing. Only looked his way. A singular glance, down and then back up, being made and then she seemed to nod to herself.
Her boy, all grown up.
Did the government know of Drusilla? Considering how much they knew of Spike, it was safe to assume they did. But did they know she was in Nevada? If they did, they likely wanted her detained or killed. But something - intuition, lucky guess, whatever - told Spike they did not, which meant he likely would not have to threaten or attack her, just now.
Which, in a way, was a relief, given their past. Drusilla was, in many ways, Spike's mother and lover; that odd combination of maternal instinct and animalistic lust - the very best and very worst of Spike's vampiric condition, symbolised in a viciousness with a child's imagination.
"Dru," he said finally, deciding it would not be best to ignore her and be on his way. "Fancy seeing you here."
Yeah, this wasn't awkward...
"You're like you was in Germany, again..."
Something only one with history with him might have known. Spike might not have joined up with the Nazis, but their efforts to harness the supernatural did lead to him meeting Angel's ensouled self on a submarine. And while no legitimate historian could seriously describe the US government as Fascist, Spike's taking on of a badge was akin to that situation of more than fifty years ago. Not that Dru appeared to register displeasure with it. She was just being observant. He might not have a uniform, but did not have to. She knew.
With that, she sauntered over, mannerisms like those of a cautious feline.
"You been catchin' mice," she said, not meaning literally.
"One way of puttin' it," he replied with a bemused smirk, part of him glad Drusilla still had not lost her sense of whimsy. Dru just would not be Dru, if she somehow became sane overnight. The odd ramblings and seemingly random comments were part of her charm, even if she was said to be without soul.
That and she was still his sire. That held a lot more power than he sometimes wanted to admit. There were several occasions in the past where Spike could have and, so others might claim, should have staked her, but did not. Probably for that exact reason.
"Catch some," he offered, lighting a cigarette. "Off those who won't cooperate. American way, I'd wager. 'Come with us or die.'"
It was, in a way, part of what Spike seemed to need: Prey, a directive to deal with it and a sense of the hunt. There was, however, one very important thing missing, for Drusilla. Something not quite compatible. "That's your game," she spoke, after a moment's contemplate. "Not mine... Princesses are meant to run free, forever, not be caged up with rules an' things... Don't much like those."
Because Drusilla was nomadic, Drusilla was chaotic and Drusilla did not do well with authority. Not necessarily because she had a strong rebellious streak, but simply because she found it boring. Restrictive. Like bondage, except without the fun, spanking part. How in the world would the government deal with her? Even Wolfram and Hart found themselves unable to and they even gave her part of what she wanted.
"Right," Spike muttered in response, wondering to himself if Drusilla thought he would turn her in. If the suits back in Henderson were to have their way, he would. it would be quite the coup for Homeland Security to have nabbed two vampires from history's most infamous foursome. But Spike did not exactly see fit to do that.
Instead, he figured a warning was probably in order.
"Be careful, love," he offered, cigarette clutched between his lips. "Uncle Sam fancies himself a dog catcher and I don't know what he does with the demons, once they're collared, yeah?"
Again, sire loyalty. Even with a soul, Spike could never break the bond he shared with Drusilla. Part of him wanted to, had ever since he found himself in love with Buffy, but Spike had been around long enough to know vampires did not just walk away from those who made them.
Not without massive injuries, anyway.
"Won't catch me, Spike! I shan't bark before I bite - grrrrruff...!"
Giggling with a twirl of skirt and flourish, Drusilla's more girlish side came into play. Perhaps the very crowds which surrounded them, the cars in traffic, would veer far away, if they knew of the monsters in their midst. things she often saw, even when without bodies. But other things, too, like Slayers. she had more reason than most to dislike them. One, at the very least.
"But they caught you, hmm? Caught you, 'cause you don't mind so much. But it'll crumble, my love... It'll all crumble, dust and ashes. Make of it what you can. Not much time before the doors start knockin'. Not much time before they open, neither."