More of the Fic With No Name, which actually has a name now, which is Getaway (at least until I change my mind):

***

The first pit stop occurred just before they reached the Interstate. The car's tank was almost empty, and Buffy's bladder was full. "So," Spike said as he pulled up to the pump, "you wanna kick my ass now, or after I fill up the car?"

"Too many people around," Buffy said. "Guess it'll have to wait. Besides, I have to pee." She started to open the car door, but stopped. "You want to come in with me? Keep watch, make sure I don't call home or try to slip somebody a 'Help, I've been kidnapped' note?"

Spike considered this, then waved his hand. "Nah. You won't do that."

"What makes you so sure?"

He held up his pinkie. "One, there's no one at home to call. And two," he raised his ring finger to join it, "you don't want to be rescued." He smirked at her, then got out of the car.

Buffy stared after him a moment in amazement. So, he was right on both counts. Did he have to be so damned smug about it? She got out of the car and headed inside. How did he know she'd be alone this weekend, anyway? Probably because he made it his business to know these things. Did it really matter how he found out? Inside the store, she turned back to look at him. He had one hand on the nozzle, while the other one worked his lighter, igniting the cigarette that dangled from his lips, heedless of the "No smoking or open flame near the pumps" sign posted right behind him.

#That's my Spike.#

She frowned at the thought. He wasn't #her# Spike. He wasn't her #anything#. Not anymore. She shook her head and headed to the ladies' room. After finishing up and washing her hands, she stared at herself in the mirror. So then, what the hell was she doing here? They were obviously still #something# to each other. She knew what she was to him. He made that clear every chance he got, and it never changed. No matter how she treated him. But what was he to her? Sex wrapped in leather, an orgasm waiting to happen? Wasn't he more than that? It would be so easy sometimes to let him be. Whatever else he was to her, could she rightfully call him a friend after everything they'd been through together? Everything she'd put him through?

#You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver ...#

"But you'll never be friends," Buffy finished the thought aloud. She sighed, and dried her hands.

She came out of the bathroom just as he was coming in the store. As he entered, a middle-aged guy in a ponytail "tsked" at Spike's cigarette and pointed at the no smoking signs. Spike looked at him, took the cigarette out of his mouth, and blew smoke in the man's face. As Ponytail coughed and sputtered a stream of indignant curses, Spike put the fag back in his mouth and sauntered over to Buffy, his body language daring anyone else to try and make him put it out.

"Rude much?" Buffy asked as he reached her.

"Tell me about it. People these days don't know how to mind their own sodding business."

"I meant you."

He looked genuinely surprised. "What? It's not like I vamped out and threatened to eat the tosser."

Buffy considered this, and decided he had a point. You hang with the soulless undead, you have to pick your battles. This was an offence she could let slide.

He pointed at what was fast becoming an armload of toiletries as they made their way down the aisle. "What's all this, then?"

"Stuff I'm gonna need." She reached for a tube of deodorant. "It's not like you gave me a chance to pack a bag. I don't know what I'm going to do for clothes this weekend. At least if these get all stinky, you don't have to inhale."

Spike got distracted by a Frito-Lay display stand at the end of the aisle and went to load up on chips. "Don't worry about that," he said as he inspected a bag of Funyuns. "Everything you need's out in the car." He held up the bag. "You like these, Pet?"

Buffy stopped in her tracks and gaped at him. "You packed me a bag?"

"Oh, no. The Bit --" His eyes widened, and she could see him trying to backpeddle. "Um, that is, the #bint#" -- he put special emphasis in the 'n' -- "Harmony, see. She left some of that stuff in my crypt, and I knew you'd be needing it, so I brought it along." He nodded for emphasis.

Buffy rolled her eyes in disgust as she dumped her items on a shelf. "I can not believe that Dawn was in on this."

"No, no she wasn't. She had nothing to do with this. It was all my idea."

"She is so grounded when I get home." Buffy balled her fists and rested them on her hips. "What did you say to her to get her to go along with this?"

"I didn't --" Spike stopped, and sighed. "Don't suppose I can plead the 5th?"

"No, that's for the living." She crossed her arms and waited.

"Fine." Spike put down the chips and moved closer so he could lower his voice. "Apparently when you went on your little rampage the other day, you said something to Dawn about us."

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, God."

"Not in so many words." He sounded disappointed and irritated even as he tried to reassure her. "But enough to let her put two and two together. And believe it or not, she's okay with it. Has this silly notion that you and me could actually be good for each other."

"She's young. What does she know?"

Spike pointed, as if Dawn were standing off in the corner of the store. "She knows enough to think that it'll be good for you to get away for a few days. And I happen to agree with her."

Buffy's eyebrows shot up. "Are you telling me she masterminded this whole thing?"

Spike folded his arms. "I'm not telling you anything. And you didn't hear any of this from me."

"Whatever." Buffy pushed past him and grabbed a bag of Doritos off of the display. "Let's just go while I'm still insane enough to agree with both of you."