'And there's a demon in my head who starts to play
A nightmare tape loop of what went wrong yesterday
And I hold my breath 'till it's more than I can take
And I close my eyes and dream that I'm awake'
It's like taking the journey to where they were backwards. They still don't talk in the car. He plays the Ramones and she leans out the window, the landscape whizzing by, a half smoked cigarette in her hand. Sometimes they smile at each other, the knowing smile of lovers or the 'sod it all' smile of people who've been through hell and back together, and are plunging in again for another round.
It's like taking the journey to where they were backwards. They still don't talk in the car. He plays the Ramones and she leans out the window, the landscape whizzing by, a half smoked cigarette in her hand. Sometimes they smile at each other, the knowing smile of lovers or the 'sod it all' smile of people who've been through hell and back together, and are plunging in again for another round.
The part of her mind that knows what it's about laughs at her and she turns everything off.
Spike taps with his fingers on the wheel, the chipped black nail polish chipping more with the pressure. He doesn't seem to notice and Buffy notes that she painted those nails for him three days ago with a bottle of cheap lacquer they bought for a dollar at the local K-Mart.
The night spins past them and then the large orb of the sun rises and she puts her window up. They don't stop and they barely even give it a thought. There's only one thing on their mind. Vengeance.
Buffy tips her head back and inhales the scent of dried blood, alcohol, nicotine, sex and leather that she's come to associate with the DeSoto and Spike.
Finally Spike pulls over after noon and turns to face Buffy, his voice dead serious, "Get out."
She pauses, blinks and double takes, "What?"
He sighs and stops the ignition, "Get out of the bloody car and come over to my side, you're gonna drive for a bit."
She does as she tells him, feeling the white hot fear that had built up in the pit of her stomach fading away. She slides into his spot and sees that Spike's already taken her side, and full advantage of the reclining seat. He turns and opens one eye at her smiling. She feels the urge to hit him, but she only pokes him before pulling him close and kissing him.
"Just try to drive straight, love, and not to hit anything," he says when they pull apart. She nods and starts the car.
She pushes the accelerator and watches as the speed dial passes 60, and then 80 and then she's doing 100 and the world seems to be fading away and all she can think is that she's flying and it's wonderful. Spike laughs and she turns up the radio as they whizz by on deserted highways, watching the red sun sink below the horizon as she speeds towards it.
When Spike takes the car back he kills the engine before leaning into Buffy and kissing her tenderly, his fingers rubbing circles on her face while she whispers his name against his throat. She can feel him shiver and her hands run up and down his chest. He lets out a small groan and she grins impishly at him. She nibbles on his earlobe and whispers, "I've never had sex in a car."
That's all it takes for him to push his seat back and prop her on his lap, and then they're kissing like there's no tomorrow. Eyes and teeth and hands and tongues meeting each other again and again. [ c e n s o r e d ]
He trails his mouth to meet hers and she's take it hungrily. His voice is throaty as he whispers against her cheek, "Open your eyes."
She does and she almost lets out another cry at the emotions she sees there. The color has darkened to a deep blue and they capture hers without a fight. He leans in again and kisses her, eyes wide open, "I want you to see me."
She kisses him back and [ c e n s o r e d ] says, "I do."
And then they both explode.
'I try to keep awake
I try to keep awake ...
How'd you like to be alone and drowning?
How'd you like to be alone and drowning?
How'd you like to be alone and drowning?'
A nightmare tape loop of what went wrong yesterday
And I hold my breath 'till it's more than I can take
And I close my eyes and dream that I'm awake'
It's like taking the journey to where they were backwards. They still don't talk in the car. He plays the Ramones and she leans out the window, the landscape whizzing by, a half smoked cigarette in her hand. Sometimes they smile at each other, the knowing smile of lovers or the 'sod it all' smile of people who've been through hell and back together, and are plunging in again for another round.
It's like taking the journey to where they were backwards. They still don't talk in the car. He plays the Ramones and she leans out the window, the landscape whizzing by, a half smoked cigarette in her hand. Sometimes they smile at each other, the knowing smile of lovers or the 'sod it all' smile of people who've been through hell and back together, and are plunging in again for another round.
The part of her mind that knows what it's about laughs at her and she turns everything off.
Spike taps with his fingers on the wheel, the chipped black nail polish chipping more with the pressure. He doesn't seem to notice and Buffy notes that she painted those nails for him three days ago with a bottle of cheap lacquer they bought for a dollar at the local K-Mart.
The night spins past them and then the large orb of the sun rises and she puts her window up. They don't stop and they barely even give it a thought. There's only one thing on their mind. Vengeance.
Buffy tips her head back and inhales the scent of dried blood, alcohol, nicotine, sex and leather that she's come to associate with the DeSoto and Spike.
Finally Spike pulls over after noon and turns to face Buffy, his voice dead serious, "Get out."
She pauses, blinks and double takes, "What?"
He sighs and stops the ignition, "Get out of the bloody car and come over to my side, you're gonna drive for a bit."
She does as she tells him, feeling the white hot fear that had built up in the pit of her stomach fading away. She slides into his spot and sees that Spike's already taken her side, and full advantage of the reclining seat. He turns and opens one eye at her smiling. She feels the urge to hit him, but she only pokes him before pulling him close and kissing him.
"Just try to drive straight, love, and not to hit anything," he says when they pull apart. She nods and starts the car.
She pushes the accelerator and watches as the speed dial passes 60, and then 80 and then she's doing 100 and the world seems to be fading away and all she can think is that she's flying and it's wonderful. Spike laughs and she turns up the radio as they whizz by on deserted highways, watching the red sun sink below the horizon as she speeds towards it.
When Spike takes the car back he kills the engine before leaning into Buffy and kissing her tenderly, his fingers rubbing circles on her face while she whispers his name against his throat. She can feel him shiver and her hands run up and down his chest. He lets out a small groan and she grins impishly at him. She nibbles on his earlobe and whispers, "I've never had sex in a car."
That's all it takes for him to push his seat back and prop her on his lap, and then they're kissing like there's no tomorrow. Eyes and teeth and hands and tongues meeting each other again and again. [ c e n s o r e d ]
He trails his mouth to meet hers and she's take it hungrily. His voice is throaty as he whispers against her cheek, "Open your eyes."
She does and she almost lets out another cry at the emotions she sees there. The color has darkened to a deep blue and they capture hers without a fight. He leans in again and kisses her, eyes wide open, "I want you to see me."
She kisses him back and [ c e n s o r e d ] says, "I do."
And then they both explode.
'I try to keep awake
I try to keep awake ...
How'd you like to be alone and drowning?
How'd you like to be alone and drowning?
How'd you like to be alone and drowning?'
