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Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: The characters are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Never mine.

A/N: This is a comedy/ very light drama road story with a twist. An homage to Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour, idols from my childhood. The locations, other than state names are completely of my own invention or changed to suit the story. As always, thanks to my lovely beta EnigmaticBlues.

The Burma-Shave advertisements belong solely to The American Safety Razor Company, a subsidiary of Philip Morris. The song lyrics used during the last chapter are from the Grateful Dead song Truckin'.
Chapter 1- We've Only Just Begun and We're Already Screwed


“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
-16th century proverb

I guess I’m headed that-a-way
Just as long as its paved
I guess you’d say
I’m on my way to
Burma-Shave
-Tom Waits
-Foreign Affairs

Late evening
somewhere in east Texas

“Alright, there’s Florida!” Dawn wiggled in her seat and let out an ear piercing squeal that deafened Spike and caused everyone else still awake to wince and clamp their hands over their ears.

“That makes seventeen! I’m ahead again!” She pumped her fist.

“Bloody hell. Uh, sorry Bit, but that’s just another plate for South Carolina and you’ve already got that state.” Spike remembered the South Carolina squeal vividly; it was just after the Texas squeal, which had proven that old adage that everything really was bigger in Texas.

He loved the girl but she was starting to drive him insane. Only the Slayer’s rotten luck would have Sunnydale High School spring break concurrent with a once-every-four-hundred year portal key manifestation.

“But it’s got a palm tree on it.” Dawn’s lip stuck out, a carbon copy of Big Sis. “It just has to be Florida. Why would South Carolina have a palm tree?” She leaned forward trying to peer through the darkness and asked suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

“Vamp vision, Nibblet.”

“Okay, then maybe it’s Hawaii.” Stubborn like Big Sis, too.

Spike snorted. “Hawaii is a group of islands. What did they do, float that Corolla across the Pacific and down the Rio Grande?”

Tara interrupted the argument. “Sorry Dawnie, but Spike’s right. Even though he was moving so much faster than us, I saw the plate when the car passed.”

“It’s not my fault this bloody van has all the horsepower of a roller skate.” Spike grumbled. He slid a glance at the passenger seat. The Slayer hadn’t awakened during the squeal-why should she, they’ve become so bloody commonplace-her head slumped against the passenger window. If he peeked closely Spike could see a thin strand of drool sliding down her chin. Definitely not her best look.

He sighed. Maybe she’ll come around on this trip and notice me. It’s the only reason I agreed to drive her four thousand miles. Well, that and the Council’s dosh. That’s makin’ it a whole lot easier to put up with the rest. Otherwise, I’d just leave ‘em all at the nearest rest stop. Without a phone.

In the rearview mirror Spike noticed Red was asleep, too, leaning against Glinda’s shoulder. No drool, but her cloth hat had slid down until only one eye remained visible, making her into a slumbering Mad Eye Moody from that Harry Potter book Dawn was always reading out loud.

Tara didn’t seem to mind that her girlfriend had her effectively pinned to the middle seat; she continued staring out the window. Spike thanked the Powers that Tara was such a good sport and had agreed to play license plate bingo. He certainly didn’t want another round of bored teen.

Although the whinging had been an octave lower than the squealing.

Xander and his demon bird leaned against each other in the rear seats whispering. Spike’s enhanced hearing detected the sound of a plastic wrapper and smirked. Harris is eating again. He inhaled. Another Twinkie. Spike figured by the end of the trip the Whelp would require a seat belt extender and his own seat. The vampire spent a happy few moments envisioning a Xander Harris too fat to fit in an airplane seat for the return trip, left to wander for eternity in an airport terminal.

Buffy stirred, opened her eyes and stretched. She looked over at Spike. “Hi.” She rubbed her hand across her face and discovered the drool. Pretending that something was very interesting out the side window, Buffy surreptitiously wiped her face. Oh God, Spike didn’t see that, did he?

Spike continued to drive while the Slayer righted herself and looked around brightly. “So, where are we?”

“Somewhere in the middle of east Texas, pet.”

“Still in Texas, huh?”

“It’s a bloody huge state.”

“I remember, it’s the biggest one along the bottom.”

“Stopping to let you birds use the facilities constantly is making it a whole lot bigger.”

“Hey, you wanted to stop once, too.”

“That was only so Harris could move to the backseat. Figured that was a fair trade off for the wasted minutes.”

“It’s not my fault you never have to use the restroom, while the rest of us do.”

“Stop drinkin’ so many bleedin’ big gulps and you’ll be fine.”

“It was only the one drink.”

“I’ve seen hot tubs smaller than that cup.”

“You’re just mad ‘cause they don’t have a tap marked ‘O-Positive’ between the Pepsi and the Sprite,” Buffy retorted, stretching her back muscles as much as possible within the confines of the tight seatbelt.

Spike watched the front seat acrobatics in mute admiration. He almost suggested pulling over so she could stretch in earnest. Now, that would be worth chucking the entire schedule. Who gives a damn about portal keys anyway, except for the bloody Council. They only want ‘em because all the demon clans are rushing to grab them first.

Buffy straightened her arms and twisted them over her head, regretting her lack of neck pillow usage. My back hurts. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. If the Council wasn’t afraid of a clan war, I wouldn’t be sitting here falling asleep. Who cares if the demons kill each other anyway? She thrust her chest forward to alleviate the pain in her lower back.

The van suddenly swerved and bumped across several road reflectors.

Xander leaned forward and called. “What are you doing up there? Driving by Braille?”

“Had to avoid something in the road.” Spike regained control of the van and pulled into the slow lane. Bloody hell.

Buffy straightened up and turned to the vamp. “We’ve still got awhile longer until the first manifestation; I’d like to stop for some coffee and a snack.”

“I’ll watch for a diner. It’s early; there should be something still open along the interstate.”

The Slayer leaned over the seat and smiled at Tara and Dawn. “So, who’s winning?”

“We’re tied right now.” Admiring Spike’s casual one handed driving, Dawn tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Spike, would you watch for a diner with a gift shop? I want to buy a souvenir.”

“Sure Bit.” A gaily printed state of Texas gag crossed his mind.

“I’ll be watching what you buy. The Council entrusted me with their finances and I plan to be extremely frugal. I take my responsibility seriously.”

“Anya, I have my own babysitting money to spend.”

Spike snickered when Buffy added, “Actually, that would be Giles’ credit card and he said since this was important Council business, there was very little limit, we just need to not go crazy. Food is not going crazy. I plan on coffee, a hamburger and a piece of pie.” .

Spike sighed when the ex demon continued the argument. “As the only one of you with any bookkeeping experience, Giles stressed to me that it’s extremely important to record all expenditures or the Council won’t reimburse him.” Anya lifted her chin. “He said no unnecessary expenses. He’s ‘not made of money,’ those were his exact words.”

“Fine. But food is not an unnecessary expense.”

“Fine.”

Tara shifted closer to the window, ignored the bickering and continued to read car tags. Brought up riding around in an RV during family vacations, she didn’t mind traveling in the van. It was actually nice to get away from Sunnydale for awhile, although she’d quickly realized the others didn’t feel quite the same way.

They’d still been in the Albuquerque airport parking lot, standing next to the Council’s brand new specially equipped van, when the bickering had first started. The very first argument, over seating preference, had barely ended when Spike and Xander had almost come to blows over the driving schedule.

Tara noticed a mini cooper coming alongside. I can’t wait to use the locator pendent the Council gave me and Willow. It’s going to be fun to pinpoint where each of those seven portal keys are located. She shifted and peered closer at the white SUV in the passing lane. “Dawnie? I see Arkansas.”

“Where? Are you sure it’s not South Carolina?”

Spike tuned out the inevitable tag argument and listened to Harris and his bird arguing over whether he should be allowed to purchase a piece of pie since he’d already eaten three Twinkies.

Dawn squealed again. “I see New York!”

Wincing again, Spike threw his cigarette butt out the open window. No wonder the Watcher stayed behind to “monitor the situation” from Sunnyhell. I never realized just how smart Rupert was until now.

Outwardly, the Scooby’s appeared to be a group of young people on a fabulous two week spring break adventure, but Spike knew the real truth. They were actually a dysfunctional family teetering on the brink, one squeal away from utter collapse. And this was only day one.

Ten minutes later he pointed the mini van down an exit ramp toward an exceptionally large red and yellow neon pie ala mode sign. The words “best coffee in Texas” was proclaimed in flashing purple letters horizontally along the pie plate rim. A sedate third sign beneath simply read “gift shop.”

Spike, ready to bet that the huge sign meant the coffee would be stale and the pie inedible, pulled the van into a parking space and killed the engine. He was willing to risk it. If everyone was busy shopping, eating and drinking, no one would be pouting, arguing or squealing. It was a good trade off and he didn’t need to eat anyway.





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