A/N: Ok, I know, I'm super lame for taking so long to update. I got extremely busy and sick last week and I was working on other chapters for different fics I have to update. This was a transitioning chapter; the next one will contain the main parts of the plot (finally right?) It's not nearly as light-hearted as this has been so far. It gets all fun and angsty. Thanks for everybody who has reviewed! I really appreciate it! Oh and all mistakes are mine, no beta for this chapter (not even an unofficial one). I've read through for editing at least four times, so sorry if I missed anything.


Light trickled into the De Soto as the sun rose from the east. Buffy yawned and in the state between sleep and wakefulness she sighed contentedly and inhaled the comforting scent surrounding her. It smelled like old leather, cigarette smoke and the faintest hint of cologne. The sound of slight snoring reached her ears and its repetitiveness was enough to slowly drive her closer to consciousness. When her sleepy mind realized the car wasn't moving, she groggily opened her eyes to ask Spike why they were stopped. He was passed out in the drivers' seat with a blanket wrapped around him. Buffy watched as a beam of light made its way through the black paint smeared all over his windows and was dangerously close to Spike's blonde head. Buffy found herself staring at his hair haphazardly sticking up. It was kinda sexy. Oh! Oh no! Bad thoughts! Bad thoughts! This was Spike! He was…icky? Yes! Very icky!

As she continued to stare, the sun did reach Spike's head and it started to sizzle. Normally she would have left him and waited for him to wake up before she started laughing at him, but she was feeling nice this morning. Buffy reached out her arm; pulling it from under the duster placed on her like a blanket and poked him on the shoulder. He didn't even move so she did it again…and again…and again.

"Spike!" she hissed at him, trying to wake him up. God he sleeps like the dead…un-dead…whatever! Finally after all her efforts, his hair just caught on fire, and that woke him up. He leapt up, bashing his head on the top of the interior of the car and cursed loudly, wilding hitting at his hair to put out the small flames. Finally the fire went out and he rubbed his head where he hit it and grumbled "ow" under his breathe.

"I'm not bald there am I? That cheeky ponce Xander will have a bloody field day when we get back if I am." Spike asked with a glare, his hatred of Xander making him sound more British than usual. His obsession with his appearance made Buffy giggle despite herself. This was coming from the guy who paints his fingernails though. He shot her a look and she held up her hand in defense, holding back laughter.

"Sorry, it's just funny how much you care about how you look. No, you are not bald, believe me, if you were I'd be laughing much harder right now. Your peroxided hair is perfectly fine besides being a bit singed. The car does kinda smell like burnt hair now, which hey, pretty gross. You know, your accent really comes out when you're angry." She commented even though she hadn't initially planned on it. Spike raised his eyebrow at her, hoping she wasn't lying about his hair.

"Bet it just gets you all hot and bothered eh Summers?" He teased her, causing her to blush prettily before she came up with an appropriately outraged reply. She stuck her tongue out at him before folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the door.

"You wish," was her only response to him. With a shrug, Spike ran his hand through his hair once more and tossed his blanket into the backseat. He kept rummaging about and it was Buffy's turn to raise her eyebrow at him. "What are you doing back there?"

"Your mom," was his annoying response. He was really spending too much time around the Scoobies, using a typical teenager phrase. Buffy rolled her eyes and Spike finally found what he had been looking for. He sat back up with a crappy little art supply container of black paint. He opened it and used the paintbrush inside to cover up where the sun had drifted in and fried his hair.

"There," he said when he was finished. "Can't have me bursting into flames can we?"

"We'd never get so lucky," Buffy replied in a mock-serious voice.


"Are we there yet?" Buffy asked Spike for about the twentieth time in an hour. Spike growled and whipped his head towards her.

"You ask me that one more bloody time and so help me I will toss you out of the bleedin' car and make you walk!" He was sick of her talking so much. She'd been fine that morning, but now Spike was glad they were nearly at the end of their drive. The sun was close to setting, they would have arrived sooner if it weren't for all of Buffy's pit stops. They had about an hour left before reaching the desert that Giles had circle in red pen on the map.

Suddenly Spike ran over something on the road and the car began lurching to the side. He cursed and rapidly tried to control the swerving vehicle. Buffy squealed and yelled at him. Spike barely got the car off onto the side of the road. He slammed on the brakes, making Buffy lurch forward in her seat, and he put the car in park. Both of them braced themselves for a moment before Buffy, still startled from the brief scare looked at Spike, wide-eyed.

"Now what?" She asked and Spike resisted rolling his eyes. Great, the Slayer can sure as hell slay evil, but when it comes to car troubles she's probably clueless, he thought as he unbuckled his seatbelt and rubbed his eyes with his palms. This was not going to be fun.

"Now, you have to change the tire. The spare is in the trunk," he explained, gesturing for her to get to it. She gaped at him, a look of panic overcoming her. She didn't know how to change a tire, she didn't even know how use the jack thing to prop up the car.

"B-but I don't know how to…" she trailed off, hoping he would be nice and tell her she didn't have to do it. Spike sighed as he pulled out the manual that came with the car and the car jack and he handed them to the baffled Buffy.

"Yeah, well a great pile of ash doesn't exactly know how to either," he paused waiting for Buffy to get out so he could avoid the sun that would enter the car. When it didn't appear she was going to move, he sighed dramatically, he was doing that a lot lately. "Well? Chivvy along, Summers, we don't have all day, unless you plan to wait until I can change the damn tire, really doesn't take a rocket scientist, I believe even you can manage, Slayer."

Now indignant at his insults to her intelligence, she grumbled and threw open her door. Spike yelled out and cowered away from the sunlight that made its way inside and Buffy grinned. It served him right if he got burnt. She dropped the jack on the ground and pulled open the manual. It looked confusing, but Buffy went to get the spare out of the trunk. She returned to the front of the car where the tire was flat and flung it on the ground. Sighing, she went back to the guide and wrinkled her brow. Spike thought it was kinda cute until ten minutes later when she was just figuring out how to use the jack. He cursed and placed his head on the steering wheel. They were both startled when the horn blared loudly. Spike and Buffy both jumped, her initial reaction replaced by anger. She flipped him off and continued figuring out the tire. Carefully setting his head back down, Spike kept up with his string of curse words mumbled under his breath and decided he ought to get comfortable. This was going to continue to be a very long trip.