Biiiiiiig thanks to Sockmonkeyhere for being my beta. Love ya!
Blah blah, I don't own any of the characters. ('Cept for Simon, Karen, Shannon, and Rob.)
-Clocky
Something was stirring. Flickering, panicky and fluttery, like a moth caught in a flame.
The Old One ignored it, shoved the fragment away. It was silenced, an injured bird on the side of the road, delicate, fallen, hurting.
It was only a piece; she inspected it, learned the memories it had, and left it where she had located it within the Shell. It served no purpose, save to give her the information on the one named Winifred Burkle. Yet it did not disappear; it merely lay dormant, sparkling weakly. A single, glittering coin tossed in a dark fountain.
The Old One shoved it further down, and it lay, suspended, frozen in time and memory.
Why, it whispered. Wesley, why can't I stay? Why can't I stay? Why can't I stay? Why can't I stay?
Over and over and over and over...
The Old One ignored it, silenced it with a thought.
When Charles Gunn woke up, the first thing he realised that he was moving. That was odd, because the last thing he remembered, he had been lying motionless in the alley. It took him a moment to conclude that he wasn't exactly moving, but he was in a car. There was an unusual tightness around his middle, and there was a soft mumbling from somewhere close by.
Cracking his eyes open, he found that he was in fact lying on his back in a van, whose windows had been blacked out. He jolted up, and was immediately racked with pain. Charles doubled over, clutching his stomach, which was heavily bandaged.
"Welcome back to the land of the livin'."
Spike sat against the wall of the van, eyes glinting in the dim light; his duster sat beside him, and Angel lay propped against the wheelwell, eyes closed and looking weary.
"What happened?"
Spike grunted. "Lay back down, you lost 'lot of blood."
Hesitantly, Charles did so, but he continued to look pointedly at Spike, who rubbed the back of his neck. Spike nodded his head towards the front of the van.
"You've been in an' out of it th' last day or so. You remember anythin'?"
Gunn nodded a little. "Rushed facefirst into a dragon, didn't we?" Spike nodded. "That we did, and we were doin' pretty bloody well for a while. You collapsed, and Blue picked you up, then Lorne showed up and ran over half the sodding street."
"Lorne's alright?"
"Right as rain, compadre."
Gunn turned his head, peering at the front of the van, where Lorne sat, completely intact and driving down a dark highway, lit up by the vehicle's headlights. Illyria's blue-tinged head was just visible in the passenger's seat. Gunn noted to himself that Lorne made a point of not looking at her.
"Thought you were high-tailin' it?"
Lorne turned his eyes back to the road. "Well... Thought about it, but my Freddles wouldn't want me to leave you all high and dry." he looked somberly out the front window.
Gunn grinned, leaning his head back against the floor of the van. "How'd you find us?"
"Oh it wasn't hard, what with the dragon making all that noise. Dragon singing really is awfully hard not to hear."
Spike cracked a grin. "Cheers to that. Any idea where we're heading?"
"I was kind of going with 'far far away from LA'." Lorne fiddled with the radio, but garnered nothing more than a few bars of 'Red Red Wine' and some various talk shows. Finally, Illyria's hand moved and flicked Lorne's away, turning off the radio altogether.
"That was very irritating."
Lorne only glowered.
"Where're we now?" Gunn asked, sounding increasingly tired. "We just left Tucson, Arizona. Stocked up on some supplies there, or, she and Spike did." Lorne spat out the word 'she' like it was some kind of nasty thing he'd accidentally put in his mouth.
"'S Angel okay?"
Spike nodded. "Captain Forehead's just nappin'."
"I heard that, Spike."
"Bloody good, you've got working ears. Well done, mate."
Angel's eyes popped open, and he glared at Spike from across the van, then looked over at Gunn. "Get some sleep, Gunn. You need to rest." Gunn nodded, closing his eyes. Sleep came in a welcome, silent wave.
The van was quiet, save for the hum of the engines and the tires on the road. Spike lit up a cigarette, clicking the Zippo shut and shoving it back into his pocket. He blew out the smoke, glancing at Angel.
"So... What're we gonna do?"
Angel's jaw went taught, grimacing. "Not a clue... Guess we could try and get in contact with Willow."
Spike scowled. "In case you've forgotten, last time we tried asking her for help, Giles the Git told us to stuff it."
"No I haven't forgotten." Angel snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring out the rear window at the dark sky. "Only other thing we could do is find someplace to lie low, until the Senior Partners back off."
Silence then. Illyria become entranced with a bug caught on the windshield; she seemed to revel in its suffering. Lorne piped up: "Well, where's our destination, Angelcakes? I know we've got a 'no place in particular' thing going on here, but I'd like some kind of direction."
Angel rubbed the back of his neck. "I really don't know, Lorne. Next rest stop, I'm going to try getting in touch with Willow. We'll see where it goes from there, okay?"
"Fair enough, big man." Lorne may have added something, but he was interrupted by Illyria.
"Look! Lupine creatures!" she tapped the window. "I wish to see them closer."
Angel, curious, moved to the other side of the van near Spike, and the two peered out into the night. Standing some feet away from the road stood two Coyotes, both standing over a small hump of fur and flesh. Their eyes glowed with a predatory light, and the van sped past them. Illyria appeared scandalised.
"I wish to see them closer. They were dining upon a lesser being." Spike rolled his eyes.
"Let's bring her to a zoo and leave her."