Along the Dark Road

Author: Jedi Knight aka Vampyr64 aka Socrates <vampyr64[at]hotmail.com>

Rated a strong R for possible language, violence, and strong horror elements.

Disclaimer: JW and ME own BTVS, such as it is.

Summary: Set during Xander's road trip. He gets farther then Oxnard, and runs into more trouble then he may be able to handle.

Authors note: Crossover type fic, but I don't want to give it away. Most everyone should be able to figure it out from this part though.

Feedback: As always.

Latest addition


Part 1

Somewhere, sometime.

The old Chevy Belair sped down the deserted road, its driver, Xander Harris, tapped the steering wheel in time with the county song that was blaring through the radio. It had been over a month since he had left Sunnydale and he was having the time of his life. Aside from the near incident with his car breaking down in Oxnard, the trip had been everything he was hoping for. A chance to get away and be by himself, without having to worry about vamps, or school, or his family, or being pushed aside by his friends. Nope, right now it was just him, the open road, and the stylish vocals of good old Jimmy Buffet. The warm country air whipped past his face as he sang along with the tune.

"Wasted away again in margarita-ville! Searchn' for my…. Lost shaker of salt!" The Zeppo let the music take over him, singing his lungs out. "Some people claim that there's a wo-man to blame! But I know….. It's all… Buffy's fault!"

As the song ended, Xander chanced a glance in the rearview mirror. He hadn't really been paying too much attention to the road But it didn't really matter. He hadn't seen so much as one car in the last 2 hrs. All around him lay acres upon acres upon acres of cornfields and old broken down houses in the distance. "The land that time forgot." he absently though. Not very likely to see many vehicles on a deserted stretch of road like this anyways To his surprise though, as he glanced at the mirror, his eyes caught on a shape on the road behind him, way in the distance. It seemed to be moving rather fast, as if its owner were in a hurry to get somewhere.

It didn't strike Xander as particularly odd. Most people wouldn't be taking a leisurely pace down a road like this. Heck, if he wasn't so content to just cruise along he would have put the petal to the medal long ago. "Probably just has someplace they need to be. He put it out of his mind as he went over a hill and the vehilce disappeared from sight, and turned his attention back to the radio and the new song that was playing "Shania Twain, no thank you!" He quickly flipped the dial around until it settled on a more agreeable tune. "Ah, that's better. Sorry Ms. Twain, but you just ain't my type." He considered that for a minute. "Uh, in music!" He quickly qualified himself. <good thing no one was around to hear that.> "Now, how far is that road I need to get on?" Pulling out a map, he started looking over it, losing focus in the road for a second…

HONK! HONK!

He was brought back to reality by the earth shattering sound and quickly looked up, hoping he didn't stray into the other lane. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shape in his rearview mirror. "What the hell?" It was the vehicle from before, coming down the hill and baring down on him fast < But I just went over that hill less then a minute ago, and he was a good two miles back.>

As the vehicle came closer Xander got a better look at it. It looked… old. Really old, and big, like it belonged back in the thirties. The frame was rusted over and covered in dirt, the giant spoiler suspended in front was cracked and torn, and the windshield was covered in an iron plate, with a small opening on the drivers side. The reall odd thing though, was the engine. While the rest of the vehicle seemed to be falling apart, the motor thundered and roared beneath the frame. Years of helping the slayer had developed within Xander a sort of sixth sense when it came to bad things. Something about this truck struck Xander as wrong, and he had the greatest need to get as far away from it as he could.

The problem was the beast was roaring down on him at an incredible speed.

Xander put his foot down hard on the gas and sped off, trying to put distance between himself and the roads only other occupant. The speedometer steadily climbed, passing 50, then 60, 70. And still the behemoth behind him gained, closing the distance at an incredible rate. The Chevy topped reached 100, thundering down the road at breakneck speeds. But no matter how fast he went, the giant loomed ever closer.

<What do they want?> his mind questioned in fear and curiosity. It was obvious that they were after him, whoever they were. He tried to think of who might hold a grudge against him. <Let's see, there's Deadboy, but I doubt he would do anything like this. Spike maybe? Nah, not his style. Maybe its someone coming after the slayer through me. Great, Xander-the human punching bag, strikes again!>

Xander's ruminations were cut off as his vehicle was rammed from behind, throwing him forward against the steering wheel. "Damnit!" He yelled out, his hands clutching at the wheel to keep control. The truck backed up and came at him again, and Xander quickly shot into the other lane to avoid another hit. The beast changed lanes too though, and came after him again.

Xander began to come up with a plan. <There's no way I can outrun that thing. But I'd bet anything that I can outmaneuver him. Gotta time this just right!>

He held speed in his current lane, allowing the vehicle behind him to line up for another attack. <C'mon… c'mon, just a bit closer.> The driver in the truck behind him gunned the motor and shot at him full speed. At the last second Xander spun the wheel and cut the break, rocketing into the next lane and dropping back fast and to the side. The Behemoth shot ahead and down the road, away from him.

Xander leaned up out of his seat, shaking his fist at the passing motorist "Jackass!" His eyes caught in the license-plate, encrusted with layers of dirt. "B-E-A-T-N-G-U. Beating You? What kind of a license plate is that?"

Seeing that the driver had no intention of coming back for him, Xander let himself relax. He waited a good fifteen minutes, to give the other vehicle as much as space as possible, then pulled back onto the road. <There's gotta be some place to rest for a bit around here. I'm starved and my tanks on empty. I think I sign for an eatery a few miles down. I just hope I don't run into Mr. creepy again> Putting his mind off the strange vehicle and crazy driver, Xander sped off back down the old road, as the sun went down in the distance.

*****

Part 2

The Pit-stop Diner, just before Sundown.

"Jen, c'mon!"

Jennifer Preston rolled her eyes at the insistent voice and turned her attention back to the mirror; applying a few last minute touches of eyeliner and makeup. She popped the cap back onto the eyeliner pen and stepped back to look at herself in the mirror. "Not bad." she observed "Rick's gonna lose it!" Then she stopped and thought for a moment "And I care why?" Truth be told, she didn't.

She half regretted coming along on this trip in the first place. She just didn't feel like hanging out with friends. Now, here she was, stuck in the middle of nowhere with 5 other kids her age.

<Barrel of fun> a voice in her head deapanned.

Unable to delay it any longer, and, feeling mostly satisfied with her work, she placed the pen back in her purse and turned away from the mirror, heading out the bathroom door. As expected, her friend was there to greet her.

"Light a fire under it girl, lets go!"

Jen fixed her friend with a withering look. "What's the rush, Shell?"

Shelly Davenport made an exasperated sound, shaking her head full of soft, black curls. "What's the rush!?!" She reached out, surprising Jen and grabbing her arm, tugging her to the edge of the hallway where they had a good view of the restaurant proper. "That-", Shelly extended a manicured finger toward one of the booths by the window, "- is the rush!", she finished more softly, mindful of the crowd around them.

Jen's eyes scanned the direction her friend was pointing, quickly coming to rest on the two handsome, well-built teenage boys in varsity jackets. Both of them looked bored to tears. The dark-haired one, John, was tapping the table incessantly whilst Rick, the boy with sandy blonde hair, kept checking his watch.

Smirking, Jen addressed her friend. "Your point?"

"Shelly, whose eyes had been beaming in triumph, was caught of guard by the unexpected reply. Her mouth went slack as her mind tried to process what was said. "My point?', she repeated after regaining her composure. "We have two, certifiable hotties, both football players and one a team captain I might add, sitting in a booth by themselves for the last hr! And if you hadn't noticed there isn't exactly a shortage of bimbos around here, not to mention the other girls in our group! We keep those two waiting any longer and their liable to jump the next thing with a skirt they see!"

"Shell you REALLY gotta learn to relax." Dismissing her friend with a wave of her hand, Jen made her way through the Diner, towards their awaiting companions.

"I am relaxed." the dark-haired girl whispered harshly as she hurried to catch up. "I just don't want to lose our catch!"

"You sound like a fisherman."

"You know what I mean!"

Sighing, Jen stopped in mid-stride and turned to her friend "I get where you're coming from girl, but you really have nothing to worry about. I can see the way John looks at you. He's crazy about you."

"Really."

"Really. Now relax, before you give yourself a heart attack or something.

Shelly nodded, thoroughly chastised Then, seeing the opportunity to change the subject, she spoke up "So, Rick's nice…"

Jen knew where this was going, and didn't like it. "Yeah, I guess. He's not bad."

"Not bad, the guys a total-" "Shel, not now! Please?" The pleading tone in her voice was evident.

Shelly eyed her friend for a few seconds, then nodded "Okay." After a moment, she started forward again. "Let's get back to our dates."

Reluctantly, Jen followed.

 

Outside the Diner, Jack Kerry, the diner/gas station/convenience store, went about his nightly duties, sweeping the lot and emptying the trash. As jobs went, this one was…. Well, it pretty much sucked. But there wasn't much else available around here. For Jack, who had grown up around here, this was all he knew.

"Another night in Podunk USA." He snorted derisively, his nose turning in disgust as the fetid smell of garbage assaulted his senses. Matters turned from bad to worse as the side of the bag tore open, scattering its rotten contents on the ground.

"Damn critters!" he shouted, knowing it was the animals in the area that were responsible for the bags tear.

He scanned the bushed around him for any sign of them, needing to take his anger out on something. That was when he saw it, in the distance, by the far set of trees. A pair of yellow eyes stared back at him. Jack started for a moment; something about those eyes didn't seem right. A sense of unease began to creep over him, but was overridden by his anger. Putting out of his mind the feelings of danger, Jack Kerry stalked toward the trees, stopping along the way to pickup a shovel laying nearby. In his haste he failed to notice the old truck parked in the field.

I done told you damn buggers a good dozen times before, and ye jus cant listen!" He raised the shovel in a menacing position as he neared the crop of trees. "You jes didn wanna listen and now ya gotsta pay."

Ahead of him, the bushes shifted and the eyes, which had seemed so bright just a moment ago, disappeared.

"Oh no ya don't!" He stated as he stepped up to the trees. "Yer not getting away that easily!"

As if in response, the bushed began to shake violently, strange sounds emanating from within. Jack felt his anger leave him, replaced by the feeling of dread, only multiplied. His hands clutched the shovel tighter, digging into the wood. But he didn't notice the pain, too intent on the sights and sounds before him.

After a minute, the shaking stopped and the noises died off to be replaced by the usual chirping of crickets of ribbets of frogs from the nearby stream.

Foolishly, Jack took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the bushes ahead of him.

A pair of dark red eyes appeared, as if from nowhere. Poor Jack Kerry hadn't so much as a chance to cry out in terror before the taloned hand shot out and yanked him into the darkness.

The cries of agony that followed were muffled by the sounds of the approaching night.

TBC…