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Willow got into the boat of a car that her best friend had lent her earlier in the day, and nervously waited for the dour woman in the black suit to come out and begin the test. The redhead murmured a calming energy spell, and jumped when the passenger door opened and the woman popped her head in.

"I am going to test your lights now. Roll down your window and do as I ask, when I ask you to."

Willow smiled shakily, then flicked her turn signals and lights as the woman asked for them. So far, so good. The woman got into the car and fiddled with her paperwork, handing her tablet to Willow for her signature.

"Now," the lady in black said, "I am going to check your reaction. Please put your foot on the gas, leaving the car in park, and when I say STOP, place your foot on the brake as quickly as you can."

Willow nodded, then spoke. "Okay. I can do that." More to herself than anything. The car revved, then Willow slammed on the brake pedal when she heard stop.

The test continued, first with her pulling out of the parking lot. After showing the woman she did know, yes, how to do uphill AND downhill parking, Willow was instructed to parallel park between two cars, a Miata and a VW bug, in a space that would barely fit the DeSoto.

Muttering frantically under her breath, she manuevered the yacht of a car into the space, trying to maintain a safe distance on both sides of her car. After pulling the front end of the car into the tiny space, Willow glanced at the woman beside her, who was engrossed with writing on her tablet.

The redhead cleared her throat. Loudly.

"OH! Please re-enter traffic and drive back to the testing facility," her tester said, still half in her writing.

"Yes, MA'AM," Willow said through gritted teeth. She better have passed this damn thing. 20 years old and no license. The car problem had recently been solved, thanks to her best blond buddy, and she was NOT referring to the slayer.

She drove back carefully, stopping before red signs and crosswalks, and managing not to kill any babushkas. She giggled at that thought. Years ago, when Xander had attemped to teach her how to drive, he warned her not to kill any babushkas in the silly russian accent he had.

Pulling into a parking area, she turned to find the strange woman staring at her. "Well? Do I pass?"

Shaking her head, the lady simply signed Willow's drive test slip and handed it to her, getting out of the car. It was a good thing too, because the girl's screams could be heard all across Sunnydale.


Spike smoked. And smoked. And smoked. In fact, he went through two and a half packs waiting for Willow to get back. With his car. Intact. No bumper hanging off the back, no huge paint scrape along the side. And her safe and sound, of course.

He heard the familiar rumble of his baby coming up the darkened street and jumped up, dropping his latest fag.

He climbed up the stairs and out to the parking lot of the apartment building and tried to fix an appropriate look on his face, not knowing whether she passed or failed. Damn. The chit was actually a decent driver. Unlike him. When he was drunk. Or sober, usually.

But...waitaminute, Spike cocked his head. He could hear HIS favorite song blasting through the DeSoto's speakers, and now he could see Willow in the front seat, jamming to "My Way" and singing for all she was worth.

The ecstatic redhead pulled into the lot, parked, and jumped out, the music still going strong. She ran to her best friend and leapt into his open arms, a huge smile on her face. She hugged him for all she was worth, and when she pulled back and jumped down, her excitement was still racing.

"I PASSED!!!!!" she screamed, then did a little victory dance around Spike, who was watching amusedly.

"What was your score, luv?" he asked, laughing. He knew she'd needed an 80 to pass.

"Read it and weep, sucka." she tossed her test at him.

"98? Wills, this is almost perfect." Spike said, astonishment clear in his tone.

"I know." Willow said, a wicked lil grin on her face.

"Red....what are you up to now?" Spike asked, wary of her looks.

Her only reply was a long kiss, steamy and passionate as she rubbed her body against the hard length of his. He broke it off, holding her at arms' length from his body.

"Do you know what your doing, little girl?" he growled.

"Yep. ROAD TRIP!!!" Willow screamed, grabbing his arm and pushing him into the car, following shortly afterwards.

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The authors own nothing. Joss, UPN, WB, etc. own Buffy, the show, the characters, the places, and the backstory. The authors own any original plots.