"Faster," he panted.
"Hello? Puddles and stilettos... not the easiest thing in the world."
As they ran through the alley, Buffy's mind whirled. This Spike character had screwed up the whole plan. She had to think quickly, and he would have to be the center of a new one. "Small-town girl from Sunnydale who got mixed up with bad company. Nowhere to go. Perfect," she thought. She'd have to switch her role a bit suddenly, but it was an easy one.
"Wait!" she stopped. "Everything I own is in his car!" she pointed to a parked black Lincoln. Spike looked back towards the party entrance, and then at the car. It seemed he was calculating chances. Spike sprinted toward the vehicle, with Buffy lagging behind. He took out a long wire and used it to jimmy the lock, and Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Car thief too," she thought.
"Get in," he said. So she got in. Spike took the driver's seat and reached underneath to hotwire the car. The ignition started and he sped off with a screech, as Angel and gang just manage to get outside.
"Shoot at the tires!" Angel demanded.
Lackey number one lowered his gun. "But I just got 'em changed for you, boss," he said.
"Just do it!" he said, but it was too late. The black Lincoln disappeared around a corner.
The whole mission was deeply screwed. Buffy didn't know how she'd get Angel back to the station, or how she could report what happened. "All because of Mr. Gallant," she thought.
"What's your problem?" she demanded, with her temper getting the best of her.
Spike was concentrating on the road, and his face twisted in confusion when her words sunk in. "My problem? I just saved your life, pet. You don't know what that poofter would've done to you," he argued.
"I can handle myself just fine! Besides--," she demanded herself to think small-town runaway, "I love him!"
Spike scoffed, and Buffy knew it was working. "You really don't know what's what, do you luv?" he asked. The car made a sharp turn in between two warehouses, and Spike handled it like a pro.
"Woah Speed Racer, what's the hurry? They're not following us," she said. "And where the hell are we going?"
"Don't worry your pretty little face, luv. We're almost there," he replied. Buffy furrowed her eyebrows once she realized that smalltown girl wont keep her informed. This was going to take a lot more than her usual missions.
Spike slowed the car down till it was crawling. He was heading home, and the last thing he needed was to bring attention to the area.
Back when he found the place, he was surprised to find that abandoned warehouses really do make good headquarters for underground criminals. A good fixer-upper in a location nobody cares about, which was right next to the city, made the best location for him. Wesley was a bit squeamish when they had to clean out the joint, but all in all it made for a good residence.
He sneaked a glance at his guest, and noticed that she was quite pissed. It was in her best interest that they got along, and it would be very difficult to rescue her more thoroughly with her hating him, so he decided to make an effort of being agreeable.
"We're heading to headquarters. You can stay with us till you figure out what you want to do," he said. He still got ice daggers. "Listen, whether you were in love or not, he'll want both of our heads by now," he added. That did the trick. Her mean face relaxed as she gave it thought, and Spike found himself missing the beauty of the angry face.
"So those abandoned warehouses really do work out, huh?" she asked, hesitantly.
"Yeah. We even managed to build some makeshift rooms. So you wont have to worry about your privacy."
She nodded, and for the first time noticed how the bottom of her dress was soaked in dirty water. He noticed as well, and tried not to notice how things clung to her.
"Erm, we got showers too. Kitchen and stuff as well. No worries," he said.
The gentle tone he was speaking in now was painfully sincere, and almost boy-like. Buffy had to consciously remind herself that this was a hardened criminal she was falling fo-- sympathizing with, even if he held a gentlemen grudge against brutes like Angel. In any case, things were looking up. It looked more and more like this was the man she was looking for. "For the case!" she reminded herself. He was most likely the one who's been making all those museum robberies. It seemed that he was the only one who wasn't in jail at the time... or ever.
She felt the car come to a stop, and realized that they were now inside a warehouse.
"Home sweet home," he said, getting out of the car. Buffy followed suite, and looked around in the big space. There was a huge wooden partition to the side, with a door. She assumed this lead to the actual 'home'.
Spike opened the trunk and took out a large luggage. Buffy was supposed to pack for the case she would've had, but it fit into her new case perfectly. He lead her to the door, and took out a key for the lock. She found this very unrich, and wondered if this was her man after all.