FIC: Beware of Botts Dots (1/?) (BtVS/SPN)
This is something I started working on quite a while back when DR was being a pain in the ass (a lot like it is now...). I meant to write more before I posted (assuming I ever decided to post it), but as it is, the weather has me in a share the writing mood or something. It's mostly my (bad) attempt at humor, so don't expect anything awe-worthy.
Title: Beware of Botts Dots
Author: Sierra Phoenix
Disclaimer: I don't own any TV shows, which is probably a good thing as I'd only screw them up anyway.
Summary: Buffy and cars are un-mixy things, and Dean loves his car. Add that together, and what do you have? Dean's worst day ever.
*****
Buffy tried to warn Giles that cars and Buffy were just totally un-mixy things, but her warnings were falling on deaf ears. No where was it written that Buffy was destined to one day learn and excel at the rules of proper roadway etiquette. This was simply one instance where she felt that, short of prophetic declaration, Buffy Summers was just not meant to be behind the wheel of car. In fact, there was probably some apocalyptic prophecy somewhere that said the exact opposite. The slayer shall drive and many cars will perish.
She explained all this to Giles, in as many ways as she possibly could without some graphic slides and a PowerPoint presentation, but still Giles would have none of it. He simply cleaned his glasses and told her in his no-nonsense, I-am-your-watcher-and-I-know-better voice, "While I understand your reluctance in this matter, using your fear of driving as an excuse to shirk your duties is inexcusable and completely irresponsible."
"Okay, for one," Buffy started, counting the statement off on her finger, "I'm not afraid of driving, it's just dangerous for everyone else on the road. Second," she added, ticking off another finger, "I think it's very responsible of me to think of the safety of travelers who will be forced to unknowingly share the road with me. And third," she finally gave up on adding up points on her fingers and threw her arms up in supreme exasperation, "since when is it my duty to pick Andrew up from the airport. Is there some clause in fine print somewhere in the Slayer Handbook that says, in addition to killing vampires and saving the world, slayers are destined to chauffer annoying, science-fiction geeks?"
"Well, as you've never read the Slayer Handbook, you wouldn't know, would you?" Giles pointed out callously.
"Why can't someone else do this?" Buffy whined pathetically.
"There is no one else. Between finding new slayers and collaborating with various governments to get the new council operational, everyone is presently occupied with duties of their own."
"Well why can't you do it?" Buffy complained.
"Because I have a conference call with the president and the prime minister in," Giles glanced at his watch, "five minutes."
"Hey," Buffy's eyes widened as an ingenious idea occurred to her. "Why don't I talk to those guys, and you go pick up Andrew."
Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, barely managing to hang on to his glasses as he did. "Buffy, the last time you spoke with a dignitary you commented on how pretty his daughter was."
"Well, how I was I supposed to know she was his wife? I didn't know ambassador what's-his-name had a thing for younger women," Buffy defended herself.
"You also insulted his hair," Giles added, driving the nail into the coffin, so to speak.
"Like anyone would believe that wasn't a toupee," she griped, and then threw out in a last ditch effort, "Maybe we could just call a taxi for him. Or, hey, he's got legs. He can walk." The airport was only thirty-five miles away, and on such a nice day (which was to say cold and rainy) surely he should have no trouble walking home, Buffy thought.
Giles crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her condescendingly, his patience really beginning to wear thin. Finally Buffy gave in, and she groaned and said through gritted teeth, "Fine. But if my driving brings about the end of the world, don't say I didn't warn you."
And so began the day that would end well for no one.
*****
Sometime in the 1950s, a man named Elbert D. Botts created reflective pavement markers made from a ceramic material that produced a noticeable sound when tires rolled over them. These markers were eventually put into use throughout the United States, between lanes and on road edges, guiding drivers in darkness and warning wandering travelers when their car began to stray to another lane or off the road completely.
This ingenious invention became affectionately known as the Botts Dot.
However, for an avid pedestrian, such as one Buffy Summers, said invention had very little bearing on a day to day basis. Until today.
Buffy Summer's first encounter with the Botts Dot would not be the pleasant relief it was for most drivers. Any other driver would hear the warning sound given when driving over a Botts Dot and instinctively know it was time to right-the-wheel before something catastrophic happened.
But on this cold, November's day, as rain poured from the sky in intervals, Buffy Summers would only absently wonder what was causing that persistent ka-thump ka-thump ka-thump sound (hoping it wasn't engine related) as she leaned into passenger side of the car, one hand carelessly guiding the wheel while the other groped desperately under the passenger seat in an effort to reach her cell phone which was currently ringing to the lamentable tune of 'I'm a Barbie Girl' (a ringtone that had been programmed in by one devious key-turned-sister and had remained programmed after many hopelessly unsuccessful attempts to remove said ringtone).
If Buffy Summers had had previous knowledge of the Botts Dot, she might have realized that that repetitive ka-thump was the sound of her Jeep Cherokee not taking the curve and instead veering off onto a dirt path where a sleek, black 1967 Chevy Impala was parked. If she had known that, her slayer reflexes might have been able to prevent the disaster that was sure to follow.
On the other hand, if Sam and Dean Winchester, the current occupants of the aforementioned classic car, had had any inkling of the catastrophe that was rapidly approaching, they might have moved out of the path of destruction posthaste.
As it was, both parties were taken by complete surprise when the front of one Jeep Cherokee slammed into the rear of one cherished Chevy Impala. The rest, as they say, was history.
*****
The guy was totally overreacting, Buffy thought. No one had been injured, and the important thing was that they were all okay. She didn't see why he was getting so worked up. It wasn't like she had intentionally hit them; it was just an accident. And it was just a small dent which could easily be fixed. Well, maybe not quite so small, Buffy conceded, but, still, the guy was going way overboard on the drama. After all, her car was in worse condition than his was.
Buffy winced as the man's ranting became progressively louder, and she cut in attempting to calm him some, "Look, I'm sorry about your car, but-"
"You're sorry?" the man looked at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted horns and a tail.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," Buffy repeated. "Like I said a minute ago, it was just an accident. Really, you should try to calm down. It's not that bad-"
"Not that bad?" he echoed her again, his hazel eyes widening in disbelief.
"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" Buffy asked in annoyance. "Honestly, it's just a car."
"Just a-" the guy made like he was about to tackle her but his taller friend jumped between them, placing a halting hand on the shorter man's chest. Buffy raised an eyebrow, not intimidated in the least.
"Dean, man, just calm down," his taller friend pleaded.
'Dean' shoved the taller man away with a betrayed look as if he couldn't believe he was taking her side. "Look at what she did!" he pointed to the crushed bumper of his car as if Buffy had taken spray paint to the Mona Lisa. The man's face crumpled in a pained expression.
Buffy fought the urge to roll her eyes. What was it with men and their cars. Despite his Drama Queen theatrics, Buffy did feel sorry for the guy. "I'll pay for the damages," she tried for reassuring.
"Damn right you will," Dean turned on her with a menacing glare.
Buffy fought down irritation again; this guy really needed to get a grip. "Look, we'll just call the police," she suggested with a heavy sigh, oh how she didn't want to deal with the law. "They'll sort this out or whatever it is they do. My insurance guys will call your insurance guys…really, this will all be just…fine." A nightmare more like. Giles was never going to hear the end of this. She had half a mind to foot him with the bill as she was absolutely sure the blame was entirely his.
The two men stiffened at the mention of police, and it didn't go unnoticed by Buffy. Great. Just what she needed. Involved in a fender bender with two guys who weren't insured or, worse, were fugitives.
The taller man looked at her with beseeching eyes, and Buffy was willing to bet that expression had won him a lot of favors in the past. "Maybe we could find some way to settle this without involving police," he asked, a tentative, hopeful smile backing up his entreaty.
Dean, on the other hand, crossed his arms over his chest and stared stonily at her.
Inwardly, Buffy wondered why things could never be simple and ranted internally about the rampant injustice of her life. "I don't know," she hedged. After all, what if this was just some ploy so that they could sue her for every penny later. Why had they even been parked here in the first place. Maybe they'd been sitting around just waiting for a driver to…careen of the road in the moronic way she had. Okay, so maybe it was a little farfetched. Still, Buffy evaded, "I'm pretty sure the protocol is to call-"
"Please?" the taller man implored, eyes full of puppy dog woe. Buffy was willing to bet a full-on pout would not be far behind. He continued on, "I'm sure Dean is willing to be reasonable."
Dean snorted in response to that.
Buffy eyed them warily, logic telling her this was a bad idea, but the longer she had to endure the taller man's mournful gaze the more she felt herself about to cave. She really hoped she wouldn't regret this later, though she more than likely would. "Okay, I guess I can give you my address, and you can send me the bill when you-"
"Oh, I don't think so sweetheart," Dean butted in, brow furrowing in distaste.
Buffy glowered. Had he just called her sweetheart? Granted it sounded more like a curse when he said it rather than any form of endearment.
"I'm not letting you out of my sight till you fork over the money to fix my baby," Dean stated.
Buffy's face twisted in a mixture of anger and frustration, "Do I look like an ATM to you?"
Dean raked his eyes up and down her body and, despite his obvious contempt for her at the moment, there was an almost suggestive, predatory gleam in his eyes as he looked at her. Buffy briefly wondered how their meeting might have gone down if it hadn't started with the destruction of his car.
"No," Dean finally answered, his lips almost quirking up at the corners, "but I'm sure we can find one somewhere."
"Dean," the taller man voiced warningly, making another attempt at mediation.
"Sam," Dean returned sharply.
'Sam' apparently recognized from that one-word refusal that Dean would not be backing down on this, and he slumped his shoulders in resignation, giving Buffy an almost apologetic look.
Buffy huffed, letting a little of her frustration rise to the surface as she asked Dean, "Well what, exactly, are you suggesting?"
"We'll head to the nearest bank or ATM or wherever, and you can pay me in cash," Dean explained slowly, speaking to her as if she were a small child. He glanced at the bumper of his car again, "I'm thinking five hundred dollars will cover it."
"Five- What!?" Buffy stuttered indignantly. "I think maybe we should get an estimate from a qualified mechanic," she said determinedly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I am qualified," he told her forcefully, "And I'm not letting some two-bit grease monkey near my baby."
"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" Buffy scoffed, her tone indicating that she had no intention of doing any such thing.
"Of the two of us, I'm not the one who drove off the road trying to plow over another car," Dean pointed out self-righteously.
"What were you doing parking there like that anyway?" Buffy scolded harshly as if this could all have been avoided if he had chosen a more sensible location to park his car.
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" he yelled back, his features twisting in fury.
"WHOA! Whoa!" Sam jumped in, holding his hands up in the universal cease-fire gesture. "Let's all just calm down for a second, okay?"
Buffy and Dean looked away from each other sullenly, and Sam turned his attention to Buffy.
"If we take the car to a mechanic and get an estimate, would you be willing to pay the amount he suggests?" Sam asked her.
"Yeah, I guess," Buffy grudgingly conceded; it made little difference to her anyway since she fully intended make Giles cough up the money for it.
Dean didn't look at all pleased with the turn of events, but voiced tightly, "Fine. Let's go."
"Wait!" Buffy blurted, causing both men to pause and turn back to her. She gestured to her car, "I don't think I'm going to be going anywhere in my car."
They eyed the car, the front end of which was partially crushed, and Sam glanced at her apologetically, "I think you're right. You should probably call a tow."
"Guess I can get an estimate for my car while we're at it," she said without much enthusiasm. "I should probably call Giles so he can meet us there and- Crap!" Buffy blurted out suddenly. Giles was in the middle of a dignitary pow-wow. "Giles is busy, that's why I- Crap!" She yelled again, remembering that she was supposed to be picking up Andrew right now.
"Would you quit saying that?" Dean complained tersely. "You're making me nervous."
"I'm supposed to pick someone up from the airport," Buffy explained. "He doesn't have any other way of getting home."
"Well, I guess it's your friend's lucky day," Dean spit out sarcastically. "'Cause if he'd gotten in the car with you, he probably would have ended up in a body bag. Anyway, just call someone else to get him."
"If there were someone else to pick him up, I wouldn't be here in the first place," Buffy explained pointedly, then added as an afterthought, "and he's not a friend so much as a colossal pain in my ass."
Sam intervened again, beginning to look like playing mediator had him at the end of his rope, "How about we give you a ride to the airport, pick up your friend - or whoever - and then we can all go to the auto-shop."
"Are you nuts?" Dean exclaimed before Buffy had a chance to give any sort of reply. "I'm not letting her in my car."
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, "Dean, how else do you expect her to get there in order to pay for the damages to your car?"
Dean fumed for a minute but couldn't seem to come up with any alternative, "Fine. Let's just call the tow truck and get out of here. The sooner we get this over with, the better."
"Okay, just let me find my cell phone," Buffy told them moving toward her car. "I think it's under the passenger seat somewhere."
"Oh, tell me that wasn't what you were doing when you decided to try a little off-road bumper-cars," Dean groaned. Buffy paused for a split-second which was apparently enough of an answer for Dean, who muttered, "I don't believe it," before moving toward his own car and as far away from Buffy as he possibly could.
Buffy tried counting to ten in an effort to calm herself and finally fished her cellphone out from under the passenger seat. The display showed '1 missed call from Dawn Summers'. After Buffy gave Giles an earful about how right she'd been and then gave him the bill, she fully intended to beat Dawn within an inch of her life for what Buffy considered to be an equal share of the blame in this whole debacle because if Dawn hadn't called at just that moment, causing that ringtone to play (also Dawn's fault), then Buffy felt she would have been less likely to end up where she now found herself.
Buffy dialed an information hotline, got in touch with an auto shop that towed, as well as did estimates and repairs, and gave them her car's whereabouts. Once that was settled and all that was left was to wait for the tow truck to show, Buffy dialed Giles's number. As expected, he didn't answer, but Buffy left him a very colorful message on his voicemail, beginning with the words 'I told you so'.
Title: Beware of Botts Dots
Author: Sierra Phoenix
Disclaimer: I don't own any TV shows, which is probably a good thing as I'd only screw them up anyway.
Summary: Buffy and cars are un-mixy things, and Dean loves his car. Add that together, and what do you have? Dean's worst day ever.
*****
Buffy tried to warn Giles that cars and Buffy were just totally un-mixy things, but her warnings were falling on deaf ears. No where was it written that Buffy was destined to one day learn and excel at the rules of proper roadway etiquette. This was simply one instance where she felt that, short of prophetic declaration, Buffy Summers was just not meant to be behind the wheel of car. In fact, there was probably some apocalyptic prophecy somewhere that said the exact opposite. The slayer shall drive and many cars will perish.
She explained all this to Giles, in as many ways as she possibly could without some graphic slides and a PowerPoint presentation, but still Giles would have none of it. He simply cleaned his glasses and told her in his no-nonsense, I-am-your-watcher-and-I-know-better voice, "While I understand your reluctance in this matter, using your fear of driving as an excuse to shirk your duties is inexcusable and completely irresponsible."
"Okay, for one," Buffy started, counting the statement off on her finger, "I'm not afraid of driving, it's just dangerous for everyone else on the road. Second," she added, ticking off another finger, "I think it's very responsible of me to think of the safety of travelers who will be forced to unknowingly share the road with me. And third," she finally gave up on adding up points on her fingers and threw her arms up in supreme exasperation, "since when is it my duty to pick Andrew up from the airport. Is there some clause in fine print somewhere in the Slayer Handbook that says, in addition to killing vampires and saving the world, slayers are destined to chauffer annoying, science-fiction geeks?"
"Well, as you've never read the Slayer Handbook, you wouldn't know, would you?" Giles pointed out callously.
"Why can't someone else do this?" Buffy whined pathetically.
"There is no one else. Between finding new slayers and collaborating with various governments to get the new council operational, everyone is presently occupied with duties of their own."
"Well why can't you do it?" Buffy complained.
"Because I have a conference call with the president and the prime minister in," Giles glanced at his watch, "five minutes."
"Hey," Buffy's eyes widened as an ingenious idea occurred to her. "Why don't I talk to those guys, and you go pick up Andrew."
Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, barely managing to hang on to his glasses as he did. "Buffy, the last time you spoke with a dignitary you commented on how pretty his daughter was."
"Well, how I was I supposed to know she was his wife? I didn't know ambassador what's-his-name had a thing for younger women," Buffy defended herself.
"You also insulted his hair," Giles added, driving the nail into the coffin, so to speak.
"Like anyone would believe that wasn't a toupee," she griped, and then threw out in a last ditch effort, "Maybe we could just call a taxi for him. Or, hey, he's got legs. He can walk." The airport was only thirty-five miles away, and on such a nice day (which was to say cold and rainy) surely he should have no trouble walking home, Buffy thought.
Giles crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her condescendingly, his patience really beginning to wear thin. Finally Buffy gave in, and she groaned and said through gritted teeth, "Fine. But if my driving brings about the end of the world, don't say I didn't warn you."
And so began the day that would end well for no one.
*****
Sometime in the 1950s, a man named Elbert D. Botts created reflective pavement markers made from a ceramic material that produced a noticeable sound when tires rolled over them. These markers were eventually put into use throughout the United States, between lanes and on road edges, guiding drivers in darkness and warning wandering travelers when their car began to stray to another lane or off the road completely.
This ingenious invention became affectionately known as the Botts Dot.
However, for an avid pedestrian, such as one Buffy Summers, said invention had very little bearing on a day to day basis. Until today.
Buffy Summer's first encounter with the Botts Dot would not be the pleasant relief it was for most drivers. Any other driver would hear the warning sound given when driving over a Botts Dot and instinctively know it was time to right-the-wheel before something catastrophic happened.
But on this cold, November's day, as rain poured from the sky in intervals, Buffy Summers would only absently wonder what was causing that persistent ka-thump ka-thump ka-thump sound (hoping it wasn't engine related) as she leaned into passenger side of the car, one hand carelessly guiding the wheel while the other groped desperately under the passenger seat in an effort to reach her cell phone which was currently ringing to the lamentable tune of 'I'm a Barbie Girl' (a ringtone that had been programmed in by one devious key-turned-sister and had remained programmed after many hopelessly unsuccessful attempts to remove said ringtone).
If Buffy Summers had had previous knowledge of the Botts Dot, she might have realized that that repetitive ka-thump was the sound of her Jeep Cherokee not taking the curve and instead veering off onto a dirt path where a sleek, black 1967 Chevy Impala was parked. If she had known that, her slayer reflexes might have been able to prevent the disaster that was sure to follow.
On the other hand, if Sam and Dean Winchester, the current occupants of the aforementioned classic car, had had any inkling of the catastrophe that was rapidly approaching, they might have moved out of the path of destruction posthaste.
As it was, both parties were taken by complete surprise when the front of one Jeep Cherokee slammed into the rear of one cherished Chevy Impala. The rest, as they say, was history.
*****
The guy was totally overreacting, Buffy thought. No one had been injured, and the important thing was that they were all okay. She didn't see why he was getting so worked up. It wasn't like she had intentionally hit them; it was just an accident. And it was just a small dent which could easily be fixed. Well, maybe not quite so small, Buffy conceded, but, still, the guy was going way overboard on the drama. After all, her car was in worse condition than his was.
Buffy winced as the man's ranting became progressively louder, and she cut in attempting to calm him some, "Look, I'm sorry about your car, but-"
"You're sorry?" the man looked at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted horns and a tail.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," Buffy repeated. "Like I said a minute ago, it was just an accident. Really, you should try to calm down. It's not that bad-"
"Not that bad?" he echoed her again, his hazel eyes widening in disbelief.
"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" Buffy asked in annoyance. "Honestly, it's just a car."
"Just a-" the guy made like he was about to tackle her but his taller friend jumped between them, placing a halting hand on the shorter man's chest. Buffy raised an eyebrow, not intimidated in the least.
"Dean, man, just calm down," his taller friend pleaded.
'Dean' shoved the taller man away with a betrayed look as if he couldn't believe he was taking her side. "Look at what she did!" he pointed to the crushed bumper of his car as if Buffy had taken spray paint to the Mona Lisa. The man's face crumpled in a pained expression.
Buffy fought the urge to roll her eyes. What was it with men and their cars. Despite his Drama Queen theatrics, Buffy did feel sorry for the guy. "I'll pay for the damages," she tried for reassuring.
"Damn right you will," Dean turned on her with a menacing glare.
Buffy fought down irritation again; this guy really needed to get a grip. "Look, we'll just call the police," she suggested with a heavy sigh, oh how she didn't want to deal with the law. "They'll sort this out or whatever it is they do. My insurance guys will call your insurance guys…really, this will all be just…fine." A nightmare more like. Giles was never going to hear the end of this. She had half a mind to foot him with the bill as she was absolutely sure the blame was entirely his.
The two men stiffened at the mention of police, and it didn't go unnoticed by Buffy. Great. Just what she needed. Involved in a fender bender with two guys who weren't insured or, worse, were fugitives.
The taller man looked at her with beseeching eyes, and Buffy was willing to bet that expression had won him a lot of favors in the past. "Maybe we could find some way to settle this without involving police," he asked, a tentative, hopeful smile backing up his entreaty.
Dean, on the other hand, crossed his arms over his chest and stared stonily at her.
Inwardly, Buffy wondered why things could never be simple and ranted internally about the rampant injustice of her life. "I don't know," she hedged. After all, what if this was just some ploy so that they could sue her for every penny later. Why had they even been parked here in the first place. Maybe they'd been sitting around just waiting for a driver to…careen of the road in the moronic way she had. Okay, so maybe it was a little farfetched. Still, Buffy evaded, "I'm pretty sure the protocol is to call-"
"Please?" the taller man implored, eyes full of puppy dog woe. Buffy was willing to bet a full-on pout would not be far behind. He continued on, "I'm sure Dean is willing to be reasonable."
Dean snorted in response to that.
Buffy eyed them warily, logic telling her this was a bad idea, but the longer she had to endure the taller man's mournful gaze the more she felt herself about to cave. She really hoped she wouldn't regret this later, though she more than likely would. "Okay, I guess I can give you my address, and you can send me the bill when you-"
"Oh, I don't think so sweetheart," Dean butted in, brow furrowing in distaste.
Buffy glowered. Had he just called her sweetheart? Granted it sounded more like a curse when he said it rather than any form of endearment.
"I'm not letting you out of my sight till you fork over the money to fix my baby," Dean stated.
Buffy's face twisted in a mixture of anger and frustration, "Do I look like an ATM to you?"
Dean raked his eyes up and down her body and, despite his obvious contempt for her at the moment, there was an almost suggestive, predatory gleam in his eyes as he looked at her. Buffy briefly wondered how their meeting might have gone down if it hadn't started with the destruction of his car.
"No," Dean finally answered, his lips almost quirking up at the corners, "but I'm sure we can find one somewhere."
"Dean," the taller man voiced warningly, making another attempt at mediation.
"Sam," Dean returned sharply.
'Sam' apparently recognized from that one-word refusal that Dean would not be backing down on this, and he slumped his shoulders in resignation, giving Buffy an almost apologetic look.
Buffy huffed, letting a little of her frustration rise to the surface as she asked Dean, "Well what, exactly, are you suggesting?"
"We'll head to the nearest bank or ATM or wherever, and you can pay me in cash," Dean explained slowly, speaking to her as if she were a small child. He glanced at the bumper of his car again, "I'm thinking five hundred dollars will cover it."
"Five- What!?" Buffy stuttered indignantly. "I think maybe we should get an estimate from a qualified mechanic," she said determinedly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I am qualified," he told her forcefully, "And I'm not letting some two-bit grease monkey near my baby."
"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" Buffy scoffed, her tone indicating that she had no intention of doing any such thing.
"Of the two of us, I'm not the one who drove off the road trying to plow over another car," Dean pointed out self-righteously.
"What were you doing parking there like that anyway?" Buffy scolded harshly as if this could all have been avoided if he had chosen a more sensible location to park his car.
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" he yelled back, his features twisting in fury.
"WHOA! Whoa!" Sam jumped in, holding his hands up in the universal cease-fire gesture. "Let's all just calm down for a second, okay?"
Buffy and Dean looked away from each other sullenly, and Sam turned his attention to Buffy.
"If we take the car to a mechanic and get an estimate, would you be willing to pay the amount he suggests?" Sam asked her.
"Yeah, I guess," Buffy grudgingly conceded; it made little difference to her anyway since she fully intended make Giles cough up the money for it.
Dean didn't look at all pleased with the turn of events, but voiced tightly, "Fine. Let's go."
"Wait!" Buffy blurted, causing both men to pause and turn back to her. She gestured to her car, "I don't think I'm going to be going anywhere in my car."
They eyed the car, the front end of which was partially crushed, and Sam glanced at her apologetically, "I think you're right. You should probably call a tow."
"Guess I can get an estimate for my car while we're at it," she said without much enthusiasm. "I should probably call Giles so he can meet us there and- Crap!" Buffy blurted out suddenly. Giles was in the middle of a dignitary pow-wow. "Giles is busy, that's why I- Crap!" She yelled again, remembering that she was supposed to be picking up Andrew right now.
"Would you quit saying that?" Dean complained tersely. "You're making me nervous."
"I'm supposed to pick someone up from the airport," Buffy explained. "He doesn't have any other way of getting home."
"Well, I guess it's your friend's lucky day," Dean spit out sarcastically. "'Cause if he'd gotten in the car with you, he probably would have ended up in a body bag. Anyway, just call someone else to get him."
"If there were someone else to pick him up, I wouldn't be here in the first place," Buffy explained pointedly, then added as an afterthought, "and he's not a friend so much as a colossal pain in my ass."
Sam intervened again, beginning to look like playing mediator had him at the end of his rope, "How about we give you a ride to the airport, pick up your friend - or whoever - and then we can all go to the auto-shop."
"Are you nuts?" Dean exclaimed before Buffy had a chance to give any sort of reply. "I'm not letting her in my car."
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, "Dean, how else do you expect her to get there in order to pay for the damages to your car?"
Dean fumed for a minute but couldn't seem to come up with any alternative, "Fine. Let's just call the tow truck and get out of here. The sooner we get this over with, the better."
"Okay, just let me find my cell phone," Buffy told them moving toward her car. "I think it's under the passenger seat somewhere."
"Oh, tell me that wasn't what you were doing when you decided to try a little off-road bumper-cars," Dean groaned. Buffy paused for a split-second which was apparently enough of an answer for Dean, who muttered, "I don't believe it," before moving toward his own car and as far away from Buffy as he possibly could.
Buffy tried counting to ten in an effort to calm herself and finally fished her cellphone out from under the passenger seat. The display showed '1 missed call from Dawn Summers'. After Buffy gave Giles an earful about how right she'd been and then gave him the bill, she fully intended to beat Dawn within an inch of her life for what Buffy considered to be an equal share of the blame in this whole debacle because if Dawn hadn't called at just that moment, causing that ringtone to play (also Dawn's fault), then Buffy felt she would have been less likely to end up where she now found herself.
Buffy dialed an information hotline, got in touch with an auto shop that towed, as well as did estimates and repairs, and gave them her car's whereabouts. Once that was settled and all that was left was to wait for the tow truck to show, Buffy dialed Giles's number. As expected, he didn't answer, but Buffy left him a very colorful message on his voicemail, beginning with the words 'I told you so'.