Prompt 372 Driving in the Dark - Love's Bitch - comlodge - BTVS

[comlodge.livejournal.com]

Title: Love's Bitch
Author: comlodge
Charachters:  Spike
Medium: Fiction
Genre: Angst
Words: 703
Artwork: comlodge
Rating: M for language
Prompt: tamingthemuse Driving in the Dark
Disclaimer: They belong to Joss Whedon but he said have at 'em you Fanfic freaks, I love you'se. (or something like that).
Summary: Season 6 As You Were - just a little look inside Spike's head after the break-up.

He slammed the car into gear, shoved his foot against the accelerator and slew sideways out of the shed he kept her in. Tonight, tonight he hurt too much to care about hurting her. Tonight he wanted to drive as far and as fast as he could. Drive through the night to... bugger... no idea... at all. Just drive... away.... from here. Away from... her! Away from him, from what he'd become. Christ! Just bloody away!

He spun the wheel one handed; she always responded instantly to his touch. He kept her in good nick, gettin' the best to look at her if he couldn't do it himself. He'd learnt a bit though, over the years. After all, he was there when the first bloody horseless carriage scared a London cabby's horse. He and Dru had embraced the early steam passenger trains, on their fledgling routes through southern England; noshing on passengers but mostly just enjoying the journey, watching the scenery flashing by. Enjoying the smell of smoke, the flick of ash and cinder that came through the window. Bloody hard going for day trips, but he'd never let a bit of sun stop him and the English weather more often than not, favoured their peculiar allergy.

He was very much a vamp of the industrial age. When the first horseless carriages came on the scene, he couldn't wait to get his hands on one. Ended up smashing more than one before he got some poor, scared witless sod to give him a lesson on the promise he'd let him go. Would have kept his word too, 'cept the little weasel had pissed himself all over Dru and she'd snapped his neck in insulted rage. They'd drained the corpse together, before it'd cooled and then he'd proceeded to run the fuckin' car into the local tavern wall, when he took the corner too fast. Not real responsive steerin' back then. Still, good times.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! FUCK!!" He screamed at the windscreen; slammed his hand into the steering wheel as the present invaded his reminiscing. "The fucking, lying bitch!" 'I can't love you,' she'd said. 'It's killing me.' What the fuck about him? She came to him! She knew what he was and she came to him! God, he loved the bint and he hated her. Hated himself. The night blurred and he screamed at himself. Love's fucking bitch! He was still love's bitch. He'd died and been reborn because of it and he was right back where he'd been, all those years ago, when he was William. All those fucking years ago. Scorned and humiliated. Broken, cut to the bone by words, left to bleed.

He pressed the accelerator to the floor, heard the De Soto groan as she bucked to respond. She fish tailed as her rear wheels spun with the sudden surge of power, the front end diving and grabbing for the road. He turned into the direction she was going and tried to follow it, get her back under control.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. Bloody women! Can't even control a fucking metal one."

He wrestled the steering wheel as she left the road and her front wheels hit the gravel on the side. The car started a slide sideways; he eased off the accelerator and glanced out to see the guard rail coming nearer. Hadn't a buggering clue where he was, but he sensed a bit empty looming on the other side of the railing. He pushed hard onto the accelerator, again, and turned the wheel into the spin, trying to drive the car forward, and back into his control. The rear wheels left the bitumen and spun madly in the gravel, throwing rocks up behind the slewing car. He felt the weight of the car settle back over them, felt them dig in and the car begin a lurch forward even as it slid into the railing. With a screech of metal, she responded to his frantic efforts and lurched back onto the smooth surface of the road.

He eased the accelerator a little, until all four wheels were safely going where he wanted and then pressed forward again, leaving two neat black marks, burning in the night.