A vampire from the past, the King of Hell and two hunters walked out of a motel room. It sounded like the start of a bad joke. And even then, that was leaving out some of the most ridiculous details. Sam and Dean had mutually made the decision to travel back to the bunker, since there lie the resources to search for a way to get Spike back to his own time, plus they were also planning on chaining Crowley up again in their dungeon afterwards, though they obviously didn't tell him that. As they hurried to check out of the motel and across the car park towards the Impala, tension already began to build up again simply through Spike making casual conversation and Dean getting all the more irritated with him. It went something along the lines of this:
"Wait a second, if this is 2014, then I must be turning 140 this year! Quite the milestone, if I say so myself. Though it's probably nothing to you, Crowley, what with you being almost 300." The vampire began.
"Why thank you. Despite being a young monster, you seem to be doing well for yourself. You impressed me, anyway." The demon replied, smirking almost seductively back at Spike. Glancing disbelievingly over at them, Dean rolled his eyes.
"Will you two quit flirting? Seriously, it's disturbing." The older Winchester grumbled in his usual snarky tone. Crowley opened his mouth to make some witty comeback, no doubt, however his new buddy just got there first.
"Oh shut up, you pompous idiot. Honestly, you slayers are all the same." His comment clearly caused an advanced degree of confusion amongst the group, as they all turned to stare at him with puzzled expressions on their strange faces. Sam was the first to question the vamp.
"What are you taking about, 'slayers'? My brother's not a slayer. At least, I don't think so..." He gave Dean a 'is-there-something-you're-not-telling-me' glare, yet the older brother shrugged in reply; it was evident he had no idea what Spike was talking about either. The vampire himself, on the other hand, seemed just as bewildered.
"What, you're telling me you supposed demon killers don't know what a slayer is?" Sam and Dean remained completely blank. "Blimey. So, only fourteen years in the future, slayers can be men, but their watchers don't tell them anything about what they are, is that it? Who is your watcher, anyway? Giles may be dull, but at least he's useful-"
"Look, man, I have no idea what you're saying, but there's no such thing as a slayer where we come from. We're hunters - we fight evil and save the good people. I'm guessing slayers are your version of hunters where you're from, which is beginning to sound like an alternate universe." Sam interrupted, ensuring all confusion was more or less cleared up.
"I don't really care where he's from, so long as he gets back there, and soon." Dean complained gruffly, forcefully wrenching open the driver's door of his beloved car as they approached it. Before he stepped in, he stated the general rules of riding in the Impala.
"Sam rides shotgun, no arguments. Spike and Crowley, you get in the back and try to keep quiet. No spilling anything, no ruining the seats, no trashing the car in general. No dogs, in case you were thinking of summoning any. And absolutely no complaining about my music. We clear?"
"As crystal." Spike smiled patronisingly. Just as he prepared to climb on in, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Swivelling round, he soon realised it was still Dean, who had a particularly suspicious expression aimed at the vampire.
"Oh, what is it now?"
"Do I... know you?"
"Really? I've just arrived in your bloody time and you're wondering if I've ever shown my face before?"
"No, it's just... You look familiar..." Following an inquisitive glance from Sam, the older Winchester continued his explanation. "Prosperity, Indiana. The, the witchy case, with the, uh, married couple. Don and Maggie Stark? You know, the ones who needed serious marriage counselling, who nearly killed us. With bees. Ringing any bells?"
"Oh! Yeah... Uh, I don't know? I sort of see it, I guess." Sam furrowed his brow, wondering why on earth his brother thought that was an important thing to mention at that moment. Dean quickly changed the subject.
"Never mind. Get in, blondie."
"Oi! Bloody Buffy..."
"Hey, HEY!" The younger brother hastily stepped in between the two men, who had begun to face up to one another in a threatening manner, both of their faces as infuriated as each other. Sam was naturally extremely reluctant to deal with a fist fight between them - no matter how eager he was to get rid of the vampire, they had promised to help him. Also, there could be serious consequences if they killed someone who wasn't in his own time. They'd screwed with time on enough occasions already and only just managed to sort it. Therefore, the logical brother couldn't help but intervene. "Cut it out, okay! I refuse to get in that car with you if all you're gonna do is argue the whole journey. So just accept your differences and get over it! Jeez..."
In response, both the hunter and the vampire hung their heads, ashamed at their immaturity, before mumbling 'sorry' and stepping into the Impala. Throughout the whole scenario, Crowley had simply sat inside the car, silently observing the amusing squabble, as was his job. Once everyone was placed in the car, Spike blatantly pulled a packet of cigarettes from inside his leather coat, selected one and flipped on a lighter. However, just as he was about to light up, Dean reached behind him and snatched the fag from between the vampire's lips.
"Hey! What are you-"
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you want to set my car on fire? Don't answer that." The older Winchester yelled, absolutely furious with the outrageous creature. Manually rolling down his window, he violently threw out Spike's cigarette, his face in a permanent grumpy pout.
"Well, actually, you never said anything about not smoking." The vampire retorted pedantically, smirking slightly at his snide remark, yet his small victory didn't last long, since he was still annoyed about losing a precious cig. He was already short of cash, plus smoking was his only form of entertainment nowadays, apart from watching soap operas on his tiny television back in his crypt. "Also, would you give me a blanket?"
Dean sighed, making it more than clear he couldn't stand more questions from Spike, however if it would shut him up, it was worth answering him. "What do you want that for? If you wanna take a nap, don't expect comfort in here."
"What? Do you know anything about vampires at all?" When Dean didn't reply, Spike simply scoffed and carried on. "Well you must be some pretty terrible hunters-"
"Listen, douchebag, do you want a blanket or not?" The older Winchester finally snapped again - it hadn't taken long.
"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a twist, mate. Thing is, the sun's gonna come up while we're still driving, and I don't exactly appreciate natural light." The vampire explained it as delicately as possible.
"What are you gonna do, sparkle?"
"More like sizzle. I'd rather stay raw instead of well done, understand?"
Rolling his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, Dean braked and hopped out of the Impala (they hadn't even exited the parking lot yet), striding over to the boot. He slammed it closed with more force than was necessary when he was done, almost as if he was making a point. Regaining his rightful place in the driver's seat, Dean purposely aimed the tartan blanket at Spike's face as he chucked it at him.
"There. Now don't bother me again, okay?" The engine roared back to life.
Spike caught Crowley's eye briefly, and they exchanged a grin. Meanwhile, in the front of the car, Sam rested his head against the frame of the window; he could feel a headache coming on, and the unbearable tension in the car wasn't helping. Dean notched up the volume on the stereo as he punched the 'on' button, causing the first few beats of an ACDC song to reverberate throughout the compressed atmosphere. He was just managing to contain his rage and frustration by blocking out the world with his music while he tightly gripped the steering wheel and concentrated on the road ahead. It was going to be a long journey.