Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon. I don't own them, so don't sue me. Also, some of my characters and settings later on will come from the Buffy books "The Gatekeeper Trilogy" by Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder.
Authors note: Had a serious bought of writers block, but finally a third chapter. As always, any feedback you have as to whether it's a plot worth pursuing, or ideas about plot would be greatly appreciated and positive comments will probably speed up the time between chapters. Thanks
----------
"If this is heaven, why is there a bloody band marching through my brain?" Angel rolled his eyes as he and Willow turned to look at Spike's groaning form.
"Shut up Spike, you're not dead… Unfortunately" he muttered the last under his breath.
"Eh, I heard that mate. What's going on here anyway? And why's Charlie boy here all unconscious-like?"
Angel rolled his eyes again, eliciting a tiny giggle from Willow "Should you fill him in or should I", he asked, "Cause I'm not sure if I can take his attitude right now."
"I'll do it, why don't you see if you can get over to the kitchen, some blood would probably do you good right now. It's down the hall, second door on the right."
As Angel left the room Willow walked over to where Spike lay trying to push himself into a sitting position, just as Angel had done earlier. Figures, she thought, like father like son, or childe I guess.
----------
"Where are you taking me?" Wes panted as Nikki stopped to get her bearings. "To the fortress. It's safer there."
"How much further?" he asked. They had been running for what seemed like hours. Though he occasionally saw glimpses that convinced him they were moving, his mind was constantly having trouble calculating how far they had actually run.
"It is around midday now; we should be able to make it by dark if we keep up our pace." As she said this she looked over at Wesley and he could have sworn that she was aiming the last part at him. She'd be amazed at how fit I am now if she could have seen me in my Sunnydale days, he thought, grimacing at the memory.
Instead he asked, "How can you even tell with all the clouds, or whatever they are?" She smiled, the first smile he'd seen out of her yet. "The light change is very subtle, it's not that much darker at night than it is now at midday. But when it's the only way to tell the passage of time, your eyes become sensitive to it."
"Well, we should go, get to this place of yours before dark. Looks like it might be dangerous out here when it's dark, and way more depressing than it is now, almost bad enough as it is." Moments before he could have sworn that he saw creatures moving in the fog that bordered the ghost roads.