The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.Summary: The Summers girls have a close encounter with the General Lee.
Buffy post-"Chosen"; "The Dukes of Hazzard" (2005)Notes:
This is my fifth entry in the August Fic-A-Day event. Sorry for the shortness, but I only had about an hour to write after getting home from my night out.
Buffy tapped the fingers of one hand against the dashboard of her sister's Jeep and sipped idly at a blended mocha as she watched the Georgia countryside flash by. Ordinarily, she wouldn't be accompanying one of these official greet-the-new-Slayer missions, but the discovery of a Slayer at Georgia State University had just happened to coincide with Dawn's interest in visiting Georgia Tech, and so here she was. Bored to tears, but making her sister and the new Council happy. She didn't care about the second, but the first was reason enough to do almost anything.
"Got a current location on the Slayer yet?" Dawn asked, glancing up at the rearview mirror at Andrew. He was wrestling with a map in the back seat, looking for the green tracking dots that Willow had enchanted into it using a trace of energy from the Scythe. Theoretically, there should be two dots on the map: one moving down the interstate toward Atlanta, following their own progress, and another located in the city's heart where this Katie Johnson lived.
Andrew paused in his rustling, then cleared his throat nervously. "Uh, I think-- I think maybe the map might be broken," he said in a hesitant voice.
"What?" Buffy frowned and looked over her shoulder at the young Watcher.
"See?" He lifted one section of the map, showing her a dot-- no, both dots, one moving down the interstate and the other out between the road-lines moving toward them at a significant rate of speed. "Unless she's offroading in a seriously fast vehicle, that just isn't possible."
Buffy watched the second dot draw closer and closer to their position, then looked up across the highway in the direction the map showed it coming from. "Nothing's impossible where Slayers are concerned, Andrew," she said grimly, as she caught the flash of police lights in the distance. Not a good sign. "You should know that by now."
He drew breath to make another retort, then cut it off with an indignant gasp as a flash of orange suddenly came up the embankment on the other side. A sixties-era Dodge Charger arced up into the air with a roar of engine and a blast of wind, hanging in the air for several seconds, then hit the pavement with a clangor of noise. Dawn shrieked and hit the Jeep's brakes out of reflex, despite being several lanes of traffic over, and Andrew swore as he collided nose first with the back of Dawn's seat.
Buffy caught the silhouettes of four people in the other car before the driver managed to straighten the wheel and hit the gas, speeding away from them. A confederate flag was painted on the car's roof, and the words "General Lee" were written above the door-- the owner was either hillbilly or racist or both, with that kind of detail work. What kind of girl was
this new Slayer, anyway?
Well, they'd find out soon enough. "Turn around," she sighed. "We'd better follow that car."