She stared at her Watcher. Delicate circumstances. Her boyfriend left her, her sister wasn’t actually a real person, her mother had just died, and a god was trying to rip open a portal to hell. Apparently, ‘delicate’ was some kind of British code for things that will kill your heart.
“…but based on my research and the papers the Council provided us with, it is imperative that we procure the Dagon Sphere.”
She blinked at him. “Y-yeah, and why exactly does that warrant the big words? Play fetch. Would’ve got it at that.”
“Buffy…” He sighed and leaned back against the pummel horse. Bags were under his eyes, like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in quite a while. The muffled chatter of Magic Box customers drifted through the training room door. “It’s in Oklahoma.”
She waited for the punch line. Then remembered who she was talking to. “I have never been to Oklahoma, Giles,” she said firmly, making sure that period at the end was heard loud and clear. That should settle it. But just to make sure – “And I can’t leave the Hellmouth.” There. Two facts that should knock the crazy right out of his head.
“Yes, except for when you have to, and this is one of those times when you have to.”
She couldn’t stop staring at him. “Giles!” He winced slightly. “I can’t go to friggin’ Oklahoma!”
“Oh? And why not, exactly?”
“Because they have musicals! And – and… ” She faltered, and then snapped her fingers. “Tornadoes. Lots of tornadoes.”
“While those points may be valid, you’re still going to have to go.” He pulled off his glasses, voice hardening.
Fine. He wanted to take off the glasses, then she was going to pull out the big guns. She pouted. Full on, lower-lip-jutting, pout. “Can’t you just mail it?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a calming breath. “Trust me, if that were possible, then I would. If only just to avoid this conversation.” He paused and looked her over. This had been the good part, or at least, the not quite so bad part of the news. He didn’t want to think how she was going to react to the other half. “As you know, it’s a matter of great importance and there is a very real need for haste. I’m afraid the situation with Glory is rapidly deteriorating. Surely you have noticed. I – ”
The chatter of voices zoomed up a notch as the door opened and Xander, Willow and Tara trooped in. Willow waved cheerfully before pulling the door firmly shut. “G-Man, Buffster, what’s the what?” Without waiting for a reply, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Man, they’re eating Ahn alive out there.” Willow shot him a disquieted look and he frowned. “Figuratively. Not as in literally, which… in Sunnydale, I can see the confusion.”
Before Giles could speak, Buffy beat him to it. “Giles,” she stated brightly, “wants me to drive to Oklahoma.” She folded her arms and looked at her Watcher triumphantly, as if the presence of her friends would reaffirm his madness.
Three voices piped up at once.
“Buffy, this isn’t up for debate – ”
“You mean like the musical with that chick from the Partridge Family – ”
“Ooh, Buffy! Road trip fun! ”
Tara remained quiet, a look deep skepticism on her face.
“No.” Buffy cut her hand through the air. “No road trip fun. I don’t see why I have to do this. Not when Dawn needs me.”
“I told you, this is – ”
“Great delicacy, real haste, blah, blah. Why do we even need this thing? And what is it?”
An edge entered Giles’ voice as he tried to rein in his temper. “Because it’s the only thing I’ve found that can possibly help us with Glory. Documents show that the Dagon Sphere was crafted by monks. It was designed with the intention of repelling her, though there is also the suggestion that it will weaken her a significant amount if in close proximity.” He paused before continuing tactfully, “Considering the extent of her power… I think it necessary that we have this item when we face her.”
Buffy wasn’t stupid. She could read between the lines. What he really meant to say was, considering how much she hadn’t kicked Glory’s ass, they really needed the thing. Reluctantly, Buffy nodded her head. “Fine. You’re right… I’ll go and retrieve this sphere thing. But what about Dawn?”
Giles put his hand up. “Glory has no idea about Dawn. She can stay with me. Willow and Tara can put up wards around the place and she will be perfectly safe.”
Buffy just looked at him.
“As perfectly safe as she can be with the given circumstances, at least,” he amended.
Clearing her voice, Tara spoke up hesitantly, “Buffy? Can, can you drive? …Across country?”
“Yeah, no offense, Buff,” Xander cut in, “but unless things have changed since the last time we attempted maneuvering the streets of Sunnydale, going cross country may not be the best of ideas.”
A pained look crossed the Watcher’s face. “That’s why you’re not going alone.”
Xander’s hand immediately shot into the air. “Ooh! Pick me, pick me!”
Buffy’s eyes lit up at the prospect, and Giles quickly pressed forward. “I’ve already decided who’s to accompany you. You’re not going to like it.”
Buffy gave a laugh. “As long as it’s not Spike, I think I’ll be able to handle it.”
Silence.
Buffy’s head shot straight up and she stared at Giles, horrified. “No. No.”
He sighed. He was beginning to long for the peace and quiet of his living room and a good cup of tea. “He’s strong, we don’t know what – if any – sort of resistance you can expect to see on this trip, and he has a car. He will be extremely useful.”
Xander scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re sending her off with the Bleached Wonder. And let’s not insult all the other cars by calling that piece of rotting junk of his a car.”
Willow piped up, too. “C’mon Giles, don’t send her with Spike. That’s just mean. And isn’t he all injured and broken from Glory at the moment?”
Buffy turned on Giles triumphantly. “Injured,” she said with relish.
“You know just as well as I do, that he’s recovered quite nicely.”
“But, but he’s a bad driver! And totally irresponsible. He’ll probably smoke in the car!”
Giles just stared at her, stonily.
“I’m not going to Oklahoma with Spike, and that’s final,” she said, face equally stony.
Buffy stared at the crypt door. Stalling, she sullenly kicked a rock with the toe of her cute, pointy boots. “I can’t believe I’m going to Oklahoma with Spike,” she muttered.
The heavy door swung open and she was bathed in warm, gold light. “Believe it, Slayer.” Spike stood there in his usual T-shirt, jeans and boots. The worse of the bruising on his face had faded. Just a little bit of discoloration remained on one cheek, around his eye. He was peering at her carefully, waiting for some sort of reaction, and she realized she’d been staring.
“I have an atlas,” she blurted.
Spike blinked and looked down at the atlas clutched in one hand. “So you do.” He stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in.
She deliberately gave him a wide berth as she stepped past him. Memories of his declaration of ‘so-called’ love and the kiss she had given him just a week ago, keen in her mind. Once she reached the middle of the crypt, she suddenly spun, intent on saying something. What exactly, she had no idea. But something. He hadn’t moved except to shut the door. He was staring at her, eyebrows up, clearly expecting her to say something, too.
“Look, Spike – ” a hundred different thoughts raced through her head, “ – I really need this to go as smooth and quick as possible, so I can get back in town for Dawn.” …and that had been exactly none of those hundred. “I don’t want to go on this trip at all, but Giles is making me.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say sod the Watcher, but then that would mean no road trip with the woman of his every fantasy. Not really the hardest decision he’d ever made. “I don’t exactly have a whole lot of biological demands here, pet. I can drive all night,” he paused, a small smile curving at the corner of his lips. She suddenly became very aware that at some point, he has crossed the room and was now only a couple steps away, his hand trailing along the back of the ratty recliner. “In fact, we only have to stop when you need,” the word fell off his tongue with deliberate emphasis, “to stop.”
She stared at him, hard. “Oh my god,” she yelled, frustrated. “It’s already started!”
He blinked at her outburst. “What?”
“You! With the weird body language and the dramatic emphasizing of things that don’t need emphasizing.”
“I wouldn’t really say ‘weird.’ I’d say s’more like – ”
“Point, Spike, stay on it.”
“Look Slayer, I know things have been – ”
“You know what? Nevermind,” she snapped, as a sudden wave of weariness crashed over her. “I don’t have time for this,” she said, shaking her head. “I have to make sure Dawn’s doing her homework. And I have to pack.” She refused to look at him. Instead, she stared at a cobweb in the corner, not really seeing it. “We’re leaving at sunset tomorrow. Please be there.”
Still not looking at him, she squared her shoulders and strode right passed him to the door. With one hand clenched on the atlas, knuckles white, and the other pushing through the crypt door, she stepped into the summer night with relief. She hadn’t gone three steps before a loud crash came from within the crypt.
All at once she deflated, her shoulders slumping. Looking up, she soaked in the stars. After a moment, it was enough, and she was able to move again. She wove through the tombstones and headed for home.
He was there at sunset. He didn’t come inside, though. She just glanced out the window and there he was, the Desoto sitting in her driveway. He was leaned up against the old car, pulling on a cigarette, and scowling out over the street.
All bristle and defiance, that was Spike. Being trapped in a car together for close to a week was going to be buckets of fun.
“Why doesn’t he come inside?” Dawn piped up at her side, crinkling the blinds as she peeked out.
“Because he knows he doesn’t belong,” Xander’s voice rang out from somewhere in the kitchen.
Dawn let go of the blinds with a metallic snap, turning to glare in the direction of the kitchen. “He does, too,” she yelled crossly. “Just because you don’t’ like him doesn’t mean he doesn’t belong. Maybe he’d be nicer if you weren’t such a jerk to him all the time.”
Buffy snorted. She couldn’t help it. Dawn looked at her and shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. This is the Hellmouth. And he’s nice to me and you.” A scowl crossed the teen’s face. “Except that whole chaining you up with the Queen of the Damned, anyway.”
Buffy sighed and cupped the back of Dawn’s head, pulling her forward to press a kiss on top of her glossy brown hair. “I’d better go. Be good for Xander and Giles, alright?” Dawn pulled a face. “I mean it,” she said firmly. “When I come back Giles better have only good things to say.”
Dawn’s breath suddenly caught in her throat, and she blinked rapidly. Her typical response not three months ago would have been a snappy, ‘Who died and made you Mom?’ But she couldn’t say that anymore. So all she said was, “Fine.”
Xander came wandering in and clapped a hand on Dawn’s shoulder cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Buffster. The Scoobies are on the job. You just try not to strangle Spike. And if you do,” he waved his hand away, “no hard feelings.”
Dawn mumbled darkly under her breath and grabbed one of the navy blue, zip-up suitcases, heading out the front door, while Buffy just rolled her eyes. “One week in the same car? Believe me, it’s going to be a challenge.” She reached out and hugged him. “Thank you, Xander. For being here for… everything.”
His arms tightened around her briefly before pulling back. “What are friends for,” he said. He was grinning, but she knew him. He lived for hearing things like that. “But seriously, Buffy. I know things have been rough lately. And it’s going to get better. Slowly, but it will.”
She looked down at the floor then. Before she looked back up, she squared her shoulders. “It needs to,” she said softly. “It has to.” Abruptly, she grabbed her bag and stepped onto the porch. Dusk was in full effect now and the tip of Spike’s cigarette glowed red hot as he took a drag. He cast her a look out of narrowed eyes before blowing a plume of smoke out the side of his mouth and turning his attention back to Dawn. She was chatting animatedly and happily. Buffy felt a tug in the pit of her stomach as she watched her. She didn’t look like a teenager who’d just lost her mother to a brain tumor.
She was about to take the steps when Xander’s hand clamped on her shoulder. “Seriously. If Dead Boy, Jr. gives you any hassle, stake him.”
She shot him an amused look. “I need him non-dusty if he’s going to drive.”
“You know, I think you’d be an excellent driver if you put your mind to it. Lots of normal people drive everyday.”
“Hey! I’m normal!”
His hands flew up in defense. “Whoa, you know what I mean. I’m just saying – ”
“I know, Xan. I’ll be ok.” She gave him a little wave and then hefted her duffle bag down the steps, flip-flops smacking against the cement walk.
“I know you will,” he called out, flashing her a double thumbs up.
As she neared the car the hyperactive babbling of Dawn’s voice gradually began to form words. “ – absolutely horrible. She has to listen to her music. Has to have the A/C just her way. Always has to stop where she wants to, with no regard for anyone else in the car. And if she doesn’t get her way, she’ll be cranky for the entire trip.”
“S’that so, Nibblet?” Spike rumbled, slightly amused as he eyed Buffy glaring over at Dawn.
“Dawn!” Buffy barked.
Dawn jumped a foot in the air and spun around, guilt all over her face, even as she tried for innocence. “Yes?”
“Stop,” she said firmly.
Dawn made a face and stuck out her tongue. “I was only telling him the truth.”
“And I’m right grateful for the warning,” Spike spoke up, not looking at Buffy.
“Yeah, well, as much as I hate to break up the Buffy-bashing fest you two have going on, it’s time for us to hit the road.” She turned to Spike. “Pop the trunk?”
He nodded and yanked the driver’s side door open, giving the little lever along the floorboard a pull. Buffy and Dawn stared expectantly at the trunk. Nothing happened. “Alright Slayer, now just give it a bit of a push,” he called.
The girls exchanged looks. Shrugging, Buffy stepped over and gave the trunk lid an experimental push. It didn’t budge. She pushed it again, with the result being the same amount of nothing. “I think it’s busted,” she announced.
Spike gave an exasperated huff and walked around to the trunk. “It just needs a little encouragement. I know you’re a tiny slip of a thing, Slayer, but I figured you could handle something as simple as a boot.”
“She has lots of boots!” Dawn piped up cheerfully.
“I think he means the trunk. I heard Giles say it, too,” Buffy whispered.
“If you two would stop yammering on, it’d be a lot easier to pretend there’s at least one good brain between the two of you.”
“Hey,” they protested in unison, watching as Spike threw all his weight behind one firm shove. The trunk flew open.
Buffy peered dubiously at the now open trunk. “That wasn’t ‘a little encouragement.’ That was the same amount of force you used against that Snuffle demon last week.”
A sudden waft of something old, bitter, and pungent rose in the air. “Oh my god, Spike! What is that smell?” Dawn whined, as both of the girls suddenly started gasping.
Spike squinted inside the trunk and took one long sniff. “That was a Snelflink demon, pet. And I’m not real sure. Been a while since I opened ‘er up, I guess. Kinda smells a little mucousy, like – ”
“Slugs?” Buffy suggested. “Mucousy slugs?”
Brow furrowed, he examined the dark, crusted smear that was spread all over the inside of the trunk, over the lining and the bits of paper and trash. “Like… like… ” A slow grin stretched across his face. He straightened up and turned to the girls, all teeth and satisfaction. “Like Chaos demon.” He gave a little laugh and shut the trunk with a slam. “You’re not gonna want to put your trunk in there, love.” They stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “What?”
Buffy shook her head. “I don’t want to know. A world of non-desire.”
Spike shrugged, still grinning. He grabbed her suitcase and duffle bag and proceeded to stuff them into the backseat. Buffy turned to Dawn, finding her suddenly sullen. “Hey, don’t look like that. I’ll be back soon.”
“I don’t care,” Dawn grumbled, kicking at the asphalt with the toe of her sneaker.
Buffy threaded her fingers through her sister’s long hair, drawing it forward over her shoulders. “Maybe you don’t,” she said gently. “But I do, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” At that, Dawn gave her a quick, fierce hug and stepped back.
“Don’t forget to call me at night,” the girl demanded.
“I won’t.”
“I told Spike to remind you.”
“I won’t forget, Dawn.”
“Ok, but just in case.”
“Night’s a-wasting, ladies,” Spike called, already seated behind the wheel.
Buffy shot a glare at the vampire before moving around to the passenger’s side. “I’ll call you,” she promised over the hood of the car as she climbed in.
The Desoto roared to life and began to back out of the drive. “You’d better!” Dawn shouted as they pulled into the street.
Buffy waved and watched until both the house and her sister were gone from view. She turned to face forward, settling into her seat. It took a couple minutes for her surroundings to sink in. She looked from her feet, surrounded by empty bottles and plastic wrappers, and craned around to look in the backseat. It was full of their luggage, one small cooler, and more random bits of trash.
Spike remained very, very still as she made her perusal, eyes pinned on the road as he maneuvered them towards the highway at the edge of town. He was full of nervous, twitching energy. Torn between anticipation at having her all to himself for the next several days, nervous that the smallest thing would set her off at any moment, and angry at her for being such a bloody bitch all the time. He’d heard her exchange with Xander as they stood on the front steps. He’d bit his tongue while Dawn was chattering away, but now that she was out of the picture the words were curdling in the bottom of his stomach. He certainly wasn’t under any illusions about his place in their merry band of do-gooders, but damnit if it didn’t have him seeing red all the same. Their casual dismissal. Just who the hell did they think they were, the sanctimonious brats. And she was the worst of them all – mood swings as regular as Big sodding Ben.
As she turned back around to face him he waited, his jaw clenched, for whatever pearls of wisdom she doubtlessly felt the need to share. He’d lay odds she was going to harp on his beautiful, black baby. Say it wasn’t good enough for the likes of her –
“Your car is disgusting,” she announced definitively. A slight kick of her foot sent a wave of trash fluttering to emphasize her point.
He all but snarled at her. “You’re welcome to clean it yourself.”
“This is going to be a fun trip, isn’t it?” Her voice positively dripped with enthusiasm.
“Depends on if you’re going to nag me the entire bloody time.”
“Depends on if you’re going to be the biggest jerk on the face of the planet the entire time.”
“Just pull out the sodding map and tell me where the hell I’m going.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, staring daggers at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Don’t be a brat,” he grit out, his grip tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.
She glared at him. He glared at her.
It was a good start.