Week 19: Road From Hell (R)
Nov. 18th, 2006 02:41 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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tamingthemuseTitle: Enemies, Closer
Chapter One: Road from Hell
Author: SunnyD_lite
Fandom: Buffy
Prompt: Insurance
Warnings: Language, bad bad language
Rating: PG for now,
Set: Post Hell's Bells
Word Count: 1179
Summary: Love is complex, sometime you need a simple hate.
A/N: Bunches of thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spiralleds who did a super fast betaing job. Then I re-worked it. All errors are, therefore, my own. This is dedicated to ponders_life Happy belated Birthday, Good Twin!
Disclaimers: I don't own the Buffy Verse, but Joss said play so here I am! I also don't own the "Road To" movies. Oh and Spike uses British spellings, cuz he does.
Fucking hell! He caved. He'd bloody caved. The bleeding point of going to the nuptials was to show how well he was doing. Piss in the corners; prove he couldn't be scared off. Plus, he liked Anya; she was a bit of alright. Knew where you stood with her.
And what did he do? One short conversation and he'd lit out with his tail between his legs. 'Is it working?' Had that whimper come out of his month? Was there a more pathetic git out there?
He stormed out of Willy's bar, propelled by the new bouncer's hand firmly on his shoulder. Could have fought the ogre, but was too busy rehashing the day. Why the fuck had he left a place with an open bar only to get tossed out of this second worst dump in Sunnydale? Third, if you count that benighted basement of the groom.
He was half way across the street when the squeal of brakes hit his ears, not that he jumped. Dropping into game face, he turned to swear at the driver, but ended up shouting, "Harris?"
He stalked toward the driver's window. "Aren't you supposed to be knee deep in bad chicken and toasts to the happy couple right now?"
Xander just glared, then looked sheepish, then glared again.
"Where're you headed?" Spike asked.
"Away."
"Shove over then."
"WHAT?"
"Can smell the cheap booze from the front of the car, can't I? You're not driving anywhere."
Xander matched his glare for a few moments, then he dropped his gaze, muttering, "If I knew it was you, I'd have kept going."
"Right, like you'd get that overly righteous white hat of yours dusty."
Oh, full watt glare.
"I just walked out of my own wedding. With Anya's demon friends all there. Just fucking drive." Xander slide across the bench seat and grabbed another can from a small cooler on the floor.
"Any extra hooch for a pal?"
"Sure, if I had one."
"I'm not sure if you have stones the size of boulders or just a stupid streak as wide as Texas, refusing to give me booze while you're trapped in the car with me; vote's coming down in favour of stupid."
"Did you miss the comment about the hordes of demons? Vengeance Demons? My vote's with stupid. Hey, if you're driving what if we get pulled over or crash? I really don't need higher insurance premiums on top of wedding debt. And I'm not even there." He popped the can of Heineken open and turned back to glare at Spike.
Spike reached down to grab one of the cans only to get his hand slapped. "Oi, what's that for? If I'd stuck around at the wedding, I'd be drinking your booze."
"And if you crash?"
"Vamp here, supernatural reflexes? Ring any bells? I could drink you under the dashboard and still avoid a coyote on the highway. So give!"
"And if we're pulled over by a cop?" Xander had gripped his hand, preventing him from reaching into the cooler.
"In the past I've always just eaten them, road trip snacks." Spike shrugged and then shook his head in bemusement when Xander dropped his hand and began to move toward the door.
"Hey, no eating anyone in my car! No talking about eating people in my car. And fucking tell me the chip still works, or I'm kicking you out right now. I might be stupid but I'm not suicidally insane."
"Yes, I'm still fucking chipped. It's the Hellmouth. Should have left years ago. Should never have come back after losing the gem. I wish--"
A hand was slapped across his open mouth faster than the drunken groom attached to it should have been able to move.
"Ix-nay on the ishes-way. This is a town full of Anya's old work colleagues, you moron. And trust me, I've heard enough of her stories of maiming and impaling not to want to see any first hand. She said for Cordelia's wish I was turned into a vamp."
Spike turned and ran his eyes over the rumpled tux and puffy features. The hand was still on his mouth so he dropped his fangs. THAT got Harris to move his hand right quick.
"No worries, mate. Wouldn't turn you now if you paid me. You're even puffier than the poof the last time I saw him. 'Sides, wouldn't want this to turn into an undead road movie. Think you're even too puffy for the Bob Hope role."
"Like you're Bing Crosby? I've heard you sing."
Turning his attention back to the road, Spike settled into the driver's seat. This felt right. No double guessing what he was saying, no wondering how SHE was going to react, less bruises too, not that he was against rough play but...
He'd been trying to pull her into the dark while acting like a white hat, being all helpful and shite. Didn't jive. Simple hate. Oh how he'd missed it.
Boy was yakking again. Normally would have pissed him off, but he'd grown tired at trying to interpret silences, or no's that meant, tempt me. Harris rarely made sense but he could be entertaining and their relationship was simple: pure convenience and familiar hatred. It was relaxing. And, given the empties he could see in the back seat, Harris might pass out in his own vomit: floor show.
Letting the words babble on like a woodland brook, Spike reached into his coat for his pack of cigs. Taking both hands off the wheel, he pulled one out and padded his pockets down for the lighter.
"Hands! Hands on the wheel! And no smoking!"
"You have got to be kidding me! Here I am, doing a good deed, chauffeuring you around and I can't have a bloody fag?"
"My car. And it's my fleeing the scene. No smoking."
Spike glanced over at the stern expression on Harris' face, taking in the crossed arms and stiff posture. Fuck it. Spike flicked the lighter and inhaled to light the cigarette dangling Bogie-like from his lips. He ignored the running colour commentary to his right.
"But..." sputtered Harris.
"Look, you git. I'm only going to explain this once. We've both had pissy days. We're aiming for 'Away'. You're two sheets to the wind and have barely got started; I'll get us away but I'm having a fucking smoke."
The perpetual broadcast of Radio Xander paused.
"So, away?"
"Yup."
"The two of us?"
"Beggars can't be choosers, wrong place wrong time. Take your pick. You can't drive and who else could you call?"
Another pause. He could almost see Harris counting off the people he knew on his fingers. Red was tied up with her bird, Watcher hadn't turned up, Slayer... not an option and given the bits of the Harris clan Spike'd had the unfortunate opportunity to speak with? No help there.
"Drive. But I have control of the radio."
Spike snorted. Like that was going to happen. Didn't matter. Away sounded like a fine plan to him.
End of part One
Chapter One: Road from Hell
Author: SunnyD_lite
Fandom: Buffy
Prompt: Insurance
Warnings: Language, bad bad language
Rating: PG for now,
Set: Post Hell's Bells
Word Count: 1179
Summary: Love is complex, sometime you need a simple hate.
A/N: Bunches of thanks to
spiralleds who did a super fast betaing job. Then I re-worked it. All errors are, therefore, my own. This is dedicated to ponders_life Happy belated Birthday, Good Twin!Disclaimers: I don't own the Buffy Verse, but Joss said play so here I am! I also don't own the "Road To" movies. Oh and Spike uses British spellings, cuz he does.
Fucking hell! He caved. He'd bloody caved. The bleeding point of going to the nuptials was to show how well he was doing. Piss in the corners; prove he couldn't be scared off. Plus, he liked Anya; she was a bit of alright. Knew where you stood with her.
And what did he do? One short conversation and he'd lit out with his tail between his legs. 'Is it working?' Had that whimper come out of his month? Was there a more pathetic git out there?
He stormed out of Willy's bar, propelled by the new bouncer's hand firmly on his shoulder. Could have fought the ogre, but was too busy rehashing the day. Why the fuck had he left a place with an open bar only to get tossed out of this second worst dump in Sunnydale? Third, if you count that benighted basement of the groom.
He was half way across the street when the squeal of brakes hit his ears, not that he jumped. Dropping into game face, he turned to swear at the driver, but ended up shouting, "Harris?"
He stalked toward the driver's window. "Aren't you supposed to be knee deep in bad chicken and toasts to the happy couple right now?"
Xander just glared, then looked sheepish, then glared again.
"Where're you headed?" Spike asked.
"Away."
"Shove over then."
"WHAT?"
"Can smell the cheap booze from the front of the car, can't I? You're not driving anywhere."
Xander matched his glare for a few moments, then he dropped his gaze, muttering, "If I knew it was you, I'd have kept going."
"Right, like you'd get that overly righteous white hat of yours dusty."
Oh, full watt glare.
"I just walked out of my own wedding. With Anya's demon friends all there. Just fucking drive." Xander slide across the bench seat and grabbed another can from a small cooler on the floor.
"Any extra hooch for a pal?"
"Sure, if I had one."
"I'm not sure if you have stones the size of boulders or just a stupid streak as wide as Texas, refusing to give me booze while you're trapped in the car with me; vote's coming down in favour of stupid."
"Did you miss the comment about the hordes of demons? Vengeance Demons? My vote's with stupid. Hey, if you're driving what if we get pulled over or crash? I really don't need higher insurance premiums on top of wedding debt. And I'm not even there." He popped the can of Heineken open and turned back to glare at Spike.
Spike reached down to grab one of the cans only to get his hand slapped. "Oi, what's that for? If I'd stuck around at the wedding, I'd be drinking your booze."
"And if you crash?"
"Vamp here, supernatural reflexes? Ring any bells? I could drink you under the dashboard and still avoid a coyote on the highway. So give!"
"And if we're pulled over by a cop?" Xander had gripped his hand, preventing him from reaching into the cooler.
"In the past I've always just eaten them, road trip snacks." Spike shrugged and then shook his head in bemusement when Xander dropped his hand and began to move toward the door.
"Hey, no eating anyone in my car! No talking about eating people in my car. And fucking tell me the chip still works, or I'm kicking you out right now. I might be stupid but I'm not suicidally insane."
"Yes, I'm still fucking chipped. It's the Hellmouth. Should have left years ago. Should never have come back after losing the gem. I wish--"
A hand was slapped across his open mouth faster than the drunken groom attached to it should have been able to move.
"Ix-nay on the ishes-way. This is a town full of Anya's old work colleagues, you moron. And trust me, I've heard enough of her stories of maiming and impaling not to want to see any first hand. She said for Cordelia's wish I was turned into a vamp."
Spike turned and ran his eyes over the rumpled tux and puffy features. The hand was still on his mouth so he dropped his fangs. THAT got Harris to move his hand right quick.
"No worries, mate. Wouldn't turn you now if you paid me. You're even puffier than the poof the last time I saw him. 'Sides, wouldn't want this to turn into an undead road movie. Think you're even too puffy for the Bob Hope role."
"Like you're Bing Crosby? I've heard you sing."
Turning his attention back to the road, Spike settled into the driver's seat. This felt right. No double guessing what he was saying, no wondering how SHE was going to react, less bruises too, not that he was against rough play but...
He'd been trying to pull her into the dark while acting like a white hat, being all helpful and shite. Didn't jive. Simple hate. Oh how he'd missed it.
Boy was yakking again. Normally would have pissed him off, but he'd grown tired at trying to interpret silences, or no's that meant, tempt me. Harris rarely made sense but he could be entertaining and their relationship was simple: pure convenience and familiar hatred. It was relaxing. And, given the empties he could see in the back seat, Harris might pass out in his own vomit: floor show.
Letting the words babble on like a woodland brook, Spike reached into his coat for his pack of cigs. Taking both hands off the wheel, he pulled one out and padded his pockets down for the lighter.
"Hands! Hands on the wheel! And no smoking!"
"You have got to be kidding me! Here I am, doing a good deed, chauffeuring you around and I can't have a bloody fag?"
"My car. And it's my fleeing the scene. No smoking."
Spike glanced over at the stern expression on Harris' face, taking in the crossed arms and stiff posture. Fuck it. Spike flicked the lighter and inhaled to light the cigarette dangling Bogie-like from his lips. He ignored the running colour commentary to his right.
"But..." sputtered Harris.
"Look, you git. I'm only going to explain this once. We've both had pissy days. We're aiming for 'Away'. You're two sheets to the wind and have barely got started; I'll get us away but I'm having a fucking smoke."
The perpetual broadcast of Radio Xander paused.
"So, away?"
"Yup."
"The two of us?"
"Beggars can't be choosers, wrong place wrong time. Take your pick. You can't drive and who else could you call?"
Another pause. He could almost see Harris counting off the people he knew on his fingers. Red was tied up with her bird, Watcher hadn't turned up, Slayer... not an option and given the bits of the Harris clan Spike'd had the unfortunate opportunity to speak with? No help there.
"Drive. But I have control of the radio."
Spike snorted. Like that was going to happen. Didn't matter. Away sounded like a fine plan to him.
End of part One
no subject
Date: 2006-11-18 08:36 am (UTC)it will be just like a Bob Hope movie, but with more sex I hope...
made me giggle.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-19 04:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-18 02:06 pm (UTC)Spike and Xander do Hope and Crosby, Sunnydale style?! Oh, this is gonna be fuuunnn.... ::rubs hands in glee::
Thank you, Evil Twin!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-19 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-20 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-21 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-22 02:36 am (UTC)The perpetual broadcast of Radio Xander paused.
LOL. So many people try to ignore that these two started by hating each other, and you have captured that hate while still giving little glimpses that leave me hope for slashy goodness.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-27 12:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-26 11:49 am (UTC)And this - Xander just glared, then looked sheepish, then glared again. is so very Xander-ish.
Lovely snark. The relationship is great - hatred modified by mutual convenience, with just a hint that under the snark there is a promise of understanding, and possibly friendship. And possibly more than that?
Going to see if this week's story is a continuation, right now!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-27 01:01 am (UTC)