Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Buffy Season4 02 by The Lost Slayer 02 Dark Times # Christopher Golden Page B

long enough for me to do the spell, but—”
    Xander held up a hand. “Un momento,” he interrupted. “Some evil spirit is holding the reins on Buffy’s Slayer-powered figure, and we’re supposed to hold on to her.” Willow shot him a withering glare.
    “Just checking,” Xander added quietly. “Wouldn’t miss it, personally.” On her way south, Buffy passed through Citrus Beach, a tiny, trendy little hamlet with a single block of bistros and shops frequented only by the wealthy and their parasites. In that respect, it had not changed.
    As she drove along the strip in Citrus Beach, Buffy slowed the Volvo and peered out the window. The sidewalks were swarming with nightlife, packs of drunken Kakchiquels, their trademark black tattoos gleaming as headlights splashed across them. They sat in outdoor patio dining areas at the bistros, served by human waiters, many of whom had wide, terrified eyes, though others only looked numb, shell-shocked. The vampires roamed the streets in packs like Mardi Gras revelers, crying catcalls at passing cars.
    It wasn’t just vampires, either. For each clutch of undead, there were humans as well. Men and women who fawned over the Kakchiquels or gazed at them like obedient lap dogs. Buffy spotted a man on a leash, his head shaved bald, clothed only in ragged blue jeans and garish, obscene tattoos that had been etched into his skin, presumably by his masters.
    Amongst the throng she spotted several demons as well.
    I should stop, she thought. These people..,
    The thought dissipated. First rule of Slaying. Buffy gripped the wheel tighter, her knuckles whitening, but she kept driving, even accelerated. Several of the Kakchiquels hooted at her as she passed, beastly vampire faces on display for the world to see. Buffy flashed back to the others of their tribe she had known, the grim, silent, deadly killers. These were nothing like the others, and she wondered why.
    Questions. Too many questions in her head.
    A pair of blond, female vampires clad in tight, red leather pants and matching tops began to move into the street ahead of her. There was menace in their gaze and their stride, and Buffy had to speed up and swerve around them. She checked the rearview mirror and saw one of the twins make a gesture, but they did not pursue her.
    Even so, Buffy did not slow down.
    Now, more than ever, she wanted to put Sunnydale and Citrus Beach and the Kakchiquels behind her. The lights of the town flashed across her face, but soon she traveled into darkness again. The road wound south, away from Citrus Beach.
    I’ll come back, she thought, a silent vow to everyone still alive behind her. It wasn’t long before she came in sight of Freeway 109, but Buffy did not dare go that way. More than likely, the Kakchiquels would be waiting to ambush her there. Instead, she said a tiny prayer she would not get lost, and took a left onto a secondary road she thought would eventually take her, in a roundabout way, within a quarter mile of her destination.
    For several minutes, she drove in silence, not even the radio for company. The smattering of neighborhoods and gas stations gave way to trees on both sides of the road. A gentle rise curved around and through the thick woods, and Buffy became alarmed. She did not recall a forest on this road and she could not afford to become lost.
    Keep going, she told herself. South. Just get out of here. A few more miles. The Volvo crested the hill. The road curved again as it began its descent on the other side. There were a few homes in amongst the trees, but these had lights on inside. She was not out of their territory yet, but those lights gave her hope.
    The headlights washed over the trees, then the road straightened out. In the darkness far ahead, three cars were parked at odd angles, blocking the way completely.
    “Dammit,” Buffy whispered, there in the glow of the dash. Instinctively, she reached out to shut off the headlights, but stopped herself. It was too late.