"Welcome to Sunnydale," he read aloud — to no one in particular. Craig slammed the brakes on, the car screeching to a halt.
Wasn’t this….? Hadn’t there been….. like an enormous hole in the ground here? And people had fled the city, and demons had fled the city, and the Hellmouth had collapsed in on itself and there were Slayers everywhere? It had been all anyone would talk about at demon bars for forever.
But, no, that sign said “Welcome to Sunnydale” with a little picture of a perky, yellow sun next to it. It couldn’t have been any cheerier if it wore a cardigan and said “It’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood!”
And behind it was road. And a town. And not a gaping hole in the Earth.
"I have got to be lost," Craig muttered to himself — as if that would explain how a destroyed town could reappear, "Spend a few years on the east coast and look what happens…" He pulled the car into the nearest parking lot — some sleazy, edge-of-town, probably-charges-by-the-hour motel it looked like, and dug into the glove compartment for a map.
If this was the Sunnydale and the Hellmouth was back in business, he probably didn’t want to be here at night. Which was exactly what time it was. Wonder of wonders. And of course the map was being a bitch to unfold…