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Hell On Wheels

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"Look out!" Dawn wailed.

The oncoming truck's horn blared as the Porsche shot back into the right hand lane almost shaving its front bumper. The horn of the truck they'd been overtaking on a blind bend joined in the blaring - outraged trucker fury in surround-sound, chasing them through the dark.

Dawn peered through her fingers. "I wanna go home."

Buffy shook her head. "Uh-uh, no way. Glory knows you're the Key now. If she catches you, she'll kill you."

"We don't know that," Dawn insisted. "I mean, it's not like she actually said "I am so gonna kill the Key." Maybe she just wants to talk?"

Buffy gave Dawn an incredulous look. "That's nuts. Of course she wants to kill you."

"At this rate, she won't have to." Dawn covered her face again. "Eyes on the road! Eyes on the road!"

"Oops!"

Just in time, they veered away from the kerb, with its vertiginous view of the sea far below.

"I was only doing ninety," Buffy protested. "Also, that precipice kind of snuck up on me. Who knew they could do that? Good thing I didn't let Spike drive, huh? Anything might've happened."

Dawn rolled her eyes. Turning, she glared at Spike, who was slumped in the back seat looking nauseous. "Why'd you have to go and steal a Porsche? I mean, what was wrong with a slow getaway vehicle - like a Winnebago, or...or, cute ponies?"

Spike grimaced. "Sorry, 'Bit. Didn't count on the Slayer bein' hell on wheels."