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Dru was a good Catholic girl, but traveling around in the 1960s and ‘70s had made her curious about alternative spirituality and other such rot. People were always painting themselves yellow, or wearing all red, or handing out flowers to every idiot they met. Spike blamed the bloody Yanks, though perhaps he should have thanked them; their bizarre cults did make for good feeding. Juicy young morsels were constantly disappearing behind the fences of some whack job or other promising heaven here on earth — nobody seemed to miss the ones that went on to Paradise a little earlier than planned.
But when the neo-Pagans came along, Dru was swept away immediately. The long skirts, the witchy vibe, the everything-is-connected twitterpation were a strong draw for her, even if the “respect your (earth) mother” underpinnings eluded her by a mile.
It was all fine with Spike, and he’d even dabbled in a few of the fertility rites for a lark. Who was he to complain if a bunch of naked women wanted him to stand in for Old Horny? He’d donned the naff antlered hat and shucked the rest of his kit and given ‘em a real good show. His favorite part might be when they called for the animal aspect of the Horned God to come out…and it did. Sometimes they were so far into their trance or what-all that his fangs didn’t even raise an eyebrow, though he liked to think it was because their attention was firmly fixed on other parts of him.
It had all been in fun then, but he didn’t like the antlers that Dru had fitted him for this time.
After leaving Sunnydale, he found them in Venezuela, at a colonial town not far from Maracaibo. He didn’t show up alone, but one evening spent in a dance hall was enough to prove that she’d not be swayed by petty jealousy. He’d taken some pains to seduce the vampire reputed to be the most beautiful in all the surrounding countries, but Dru’s eyes just slid over her as if she had no more substance than a dust mote, which was unfortunately true.
Tonight was the longest night of the year, not that it mattered this close to the equator, and he decided that a little end-of-year ritual might get her attention. Which was why he found himself tailing Josh, the stupidly-named Chaos Demon, through the town’s streets just after nightfall. At first, Josh carried on with his errands, chatting amiably with the shopkeepers, picking up a bag of sweetmeats here, dropping off his laundry there. But he soon became aware that he was being shadowed, and became more erratic in his movements. He moved suddenly across streets mid-block, picking up speed. Spike easily kept his broad back — covered as it was with tropical weight white linen suiting — well within sight.
The demon stepped up his evasive maneuvers. Just as Spike was about to cross the mouth of an alleyway, a wooden cart laden with mangoes rolled out, its owner chasing after it. Spike knew to keep his eyes on his prey, and simply waited for the commotion to move along the street before continuing. On the next block, a funnel of swifts shot down between Spike and his quarry, but he waved his arm through the mass of them and walked on through the birds. As he passed an open-air grill, the thatching used to cover the roof began to tumble off in shreds and waft about, although the breeze was gentle. Still Spike followed.
Some of the municipal pipes began to poke above the ground, threatening to trip pedestrians and snarl traffic. Spike began to close the distance. The smash of a car crash rang out at the next intersection, but Spike could scent his prey’s fear by now. Josh fled around a corner, Spike just a few meters behind him.
When Spike rounded the corner, Josh was nowhere to be seen. The street was typical of residential neighborhoods in this part of the world. There were walls up to the sidewalk, and doors — large enough to admit a bus — shut tight against the night. Spike followed the tell-tale slime a little way down the street, and leaned against the door where the trail stopped. He could hear the demon’s thundering heartbeat on the other side.
“You might be in luck, mate. If you’ve got a human-owned bolt hole there, I won’t be able to touch you. If not…” He leapt to the top of the wall and smiled down at the demon cowering in the courtyard. “…then aren’t I the fortunate son?” He leaned forward and found no barrier. Demon house or abandoned by humans, it made no difference. He rolled into a mid-air flip, and landed with one leg extended out to the side, fingers lightly touching the ground, fangs out and eyes amber.
“She told me you guys broke up!”
“She told you true. Me, I’m just a nasty piece of work.”
The whites of Josh’s eyes were showing all around, and his suit was getting stained with fear sweat and extra slime from his antlers.
Drusilla materialized out of the shadows beside Spike, looking at Josh with a titled head, like a bird examining a seed.
“He’s not the one you’re angry at, Spike.”
“No, princess, he’s not. Gonna rip his head off anyway.”
Josh whimpered and began to inch sideways. Spike shook his head and Josh froze where he was.
“Must you?” Drusilla asked.
“Yes, petal, I must. So the sun can come up in the morning, you see?”
Drusilla fixed her gaze on Spike. “Why ever would you want that to happen?”
He shrugged. He could tell her a bunch of bollocks about the light and the dark, male and female, life and death, and how you had to have one for the other, but the truth was he just wanted to finish the hunt and see the world keep on spinning. Simple really.
“Just do.” Like a flash he was behind the Chaos Demon, grasping his antlers firmly. The tiles from the nearby rooftop began to fly off, shattering on the paving around them. One hit Spike on the shoulder, another on the knee. It didn’t matter. He gave the antlers a wrenching twist, and Josh tumbled lifeless to the ground, one last roof tile smashing beside him.
He panted, flush with success. Drusilla looked at him with hard eyes. “Chase the sunshine, then. It will only lead you to chains and slops.”
“Don’t want sunshine, Dru. Only want you.”
She softened. “Pretty lies. Tell me another.”
“You’ll see, pet, it’s going to be better now. Almost Christmas. Care to make a date for midnight mass in the town square? We could have the choir for afters.”
She giggled. He backed her into a pillar covered with vines, stroked her hair, and wondered if this time would be any different.
FIN