I am not Stephen King, and I do not claim ownership of anything he writes, nor do I own Buffy The Vampire Slayer.
“I need this road trip, Buffy. And don’t worry, I’m sure Willow put a spell on me somewhere so an army will come to my aid.”
When the bus pulled into Pensacola, the sun was shining bright. Xander got out and grabbed his bags. Then he stretched and grinned, ignoring the shocked stares that his eyepatch got. Looking across the street, he saw a used car lot.
As he walked onto the lot, he noticed the cars were vintage. Then a 1958 Plymouth Fury caught his eye. As he started toward it to look it over, a salesman walked over.
“You don’t want that one.”
“Too many weird things happen around it.”
Xander got a serious look in his eye. The salesman backed up a step. “Really?”
“The man who handed it over, said he didn’t want money. He also said that if I wanted deaths on my conscious, I could sell it to whoever asked.”
Xander blinked. “Weird request isn’t it?”
“I asked him. He said that the car was either possessed or bad luck. The previous owner died under mysterious circumstances. And apparently many of his friends did as well. I asked how he knew, he said spells were informative things.”
Xander smirked. “You believe in that.”
”You learn to believe in many things. Let’s just say that the only reason why I’m alive is that I keep finding vintage cars. Someone always buys one.”
Xander shook his head. “Did this guy give a name? I might want to track him down and ask him some questions.”
”He said to call him Ripper.”
“There was one strange request though…. He said that if I wanted to stay safe and my lot as well, I’d wash the car and wax it, and take care of any scratches. I haven’t seen any, but the washing definitely… even though the car didn’t need it. Never has.”
- - - - - - -
Xander sat in the café he’d found, and pulled out his cell phone. He started dialing.
”Dawn Patrol! How’re things at central?”
He grinned as he heard a scramble of feet and arguing, as Buffy and Willow tried to run into the kitchen at the same time.
”Hi Buff. Listen, I need G-man. He can explain later, but this is weirdness time. Not hellmouthy necessarily, which is a good thing.”
“Need me to slay something?”
“Nah… from what I can tell, there haven’t been any deaths in a long time. And as long as I only passively watch, I’m safe too. But I need to ask Giles some questions.”
Xander flinched. Buffy needed to work on the volume.
”How many times?” Giles sighed.
“Look, I’ve just found an interesting story. It’s about a 1958 Plymouth Fury and a man named Ripper handing it over to a used…”
“I take it you know what I’m talking about.” Xander grinned.
“Xander, do not touch the car. If you’ve looked at, fine. But leave it alone. Buy any car on the lot except her. She won’t be disappointed.”
“It’s possessed. It took me a long time to get it to leave me alone too. Apparently even over protective murderous vehicles get tired of saving their drivers from vampires and demons…”