Work Text:
Junk Heap
by Ragna
Spike loved his de Soto, ever since the moment he'd killed it's previous owner in New York after bagging his second Slayer, the one in the subway. Of course, back then it had looked much nicer, and you could actually see out the windows. There was times Spike wanted to get a nice, dark tint job...
"Can't this thing go any faster?"
And then there were times he wanted a partition between the front and back sets so that when he had to chauffer Darla around, he could do it in peace and quiet.
"No, it can't, love. It's old. Just like you."
"Don't 'love' me, you prick," Darla said sourly. She moved her foot and hit an empty tequila bottle.
"Fine. How does absolute hatred sound?"
"More than acceptable." She reached down and picked the bottle up. "Don't you ever clean up this moving pigsty?"
"Not really, no. Like it just the way it is."
"Oh yeah? And how's that?"
"More or less the way it was when I stole it." Spike deftly took his cigarettes and lighter out of his duster pocket, in the process using his knee to hold the steering wheel in place.
"So you're telling me there was a slob just like you who owned this junk heap?"
"He wasn't a slob like me. I'm better at being a slob. You could see the floor when I took it."
"You can't see shit now."
Spike suddenly jerked the wheel to the right, pulling off the road. He lit his cigarette, took a puff and turned to Darla, exhaling in her face. "Great-grandsire or not, if you don't shut your trap, I'll shove a stake right through your black heart."
Darla leaned forward, until she was nose to nose with Spike. "If it wasn't for the fact that the loony tune has Angelus wrapped around her little finger and we're off to go get him back, I'd throw you out into oncoming traffic and let the sun hit you with full force," she said in a slow, menacing voice.
"Would love to see you try, *love,*" he said, adding emphasis on the last word in the sentence.
"You're a prick."
"At least I'm not a washed up whore."
"Bastard."
"No, I know who my pa was." Spike took another drag of the cigarette. "Now shut up and let me enjoy the drive."
"Where are we going?"
"To the Slayer's home. And no going after her mum again; we need her help."
Darla flopped back into the seat. "Bite me."
"No, but lay a hand on the Slayer or her mum and that stake fantasy of mine will become a reality."
"The sooner I get out of this junk heap, the better."
"My sentiments exactly."
end