Author's Apologies: No, this fic was not abandoned! GOMEN NA, EVERYONE. x0 Yeah, I'm sorry it took.. how many weeks to post this chapter? .-. Too many. But wouldn't you know it, I have been practically computerless since I last posted. My 'puter decided to conk the day after I posted chapter seventeen. Not that I'm trying to excuse myself for not posting. x.x But thass what happened.

And, I know I promised this chapter to be exciting, but I guess it didn't really turn out that way.. .-. Sorry for that, too. It will be better next time! XD But I hope you all enjoy this chapter, anyway. :3 And guess what! I've hidden two manga references somewhere within this chapter and I'll hand out virtual Christmas presents to those who find them. :3 Happy hunting.

;standard disclaimer applies.

Chapter eighteen: Supernatural

Amber morning sunlight crept into the streets and houses of New Miami with a warming caress. A peachy glow seeped in through Milly Thompson's eyelids and she woke with a carefree smile. She sat upright and yawned, stretching the sleep out of her limbs.

'I wonder if Lavender and Mister Vash are back yet,' she thought, throwing the white duvet off and hopping with morning enthusiasm out of bed. Vash and Lavender had been absent for nearly two days now and it would have disconcerted Milly, had she not remained her optimistic self. She had, of course, volunteered to follow Vash to Septombre city to help find Lavender, but Vash had insisted that she look after the house. In any case, he assured her that he wouldn't be gone more than a few days.

Milly padded out into the sitting room and peeked furtively in through Vash's bedroom doorway, in search of any inhabitants. There were none and there were no signs of there having been any since the day before. It was exactly as Milly had left it—dusted, clean and lonely. She suppressed a sigh and slid open the tartan curtains, though little light entered. Vash's room was unquestionably the least atmospheric in the house.

Though it was unlikely for Vash's daughter to be home if he wasn't, Milly went up the marble staircase just on the off chance that Lavender would be home. She wasn't, however, and Milly's heart sunk lower than her prediction should have allowed. She put herself down on the edge of the landing outside Lavender's room and let out a little sigh, cupping her chin in her hands.

"Oh dear…" she sighed again. Milly sat morosely for a several minutes, swaying gently and nibbling at her nails, then, quite suddenly, leapt up like a cat.

"Mister Vash and Lavender will be back tomorrow morning!" she told herself, throwing off her momentary despair and replacing it with her smile. With that, she took herself down stairs and proceeded to make her breakfast. But she had only just started percolating a jug of water for her tea when she heard the rustle of paper as today's newspaper was slapped down outside the front door.

"Thank you!" she waved at the paperboy through the window. He trilled her back a response from his bicycle bell. Milly smiled broadly to herself and went to the door, opening it and seizing up the newspaper. It was not the fact that she ever read the paper that she picked it up each morning, but it was more an undying habit to do so since Meryl had always liked reading the paper in the mornings. Milly was only too obliged to get it for her. And after her untimely passing, Vash had taken it on himself as a subconscious act of commiseration to read the paper in Meryl's stead.

Milly delighted in the pinkish morning sunlight for a moment before capering back into the kitchen. She poured her tea and cereal then sat at the breakfast table. Munching noisily on a mouthful of cornflakes, she flattened the paper out across the table just to sate her curiosity. She thought, after all, why not?

'THE SEPTOMBRE MASSACRE,' the print shouted. Milly went rigid, her spoon slipping from her fingers and falling to the floor with a clatter amid its spoonful of milk and flakes.

"Oh no!" Milly breathed, frantically grabbing up the paper and proceeding to read the article as fast as her pace would allow, her brow pleating in deeper worry with each line she scanned.

'Passengers and crew on the Espoera-to-Septombre caravan were yesterday horror-struck at finding the entire population of Septombre city dead in the streets. Though the proper authorities were notified of this calamity almost immediately, it has not yet been established what destroyed the city. There has been extensive destruction of buildings and rubble blocks all major roadways. The entire city is now closed off as a potential danger-zone to all except those investigating the causes. Plant engineers and specialists are postulating that the destruction of the city was a result of a repercussion of a last run. However, civil authorities are keen to provide reassurances that the cause lies elsewhere, citing the fact that it has been some months since a last run was performed. They also point out the significant fact that none of Septombre's plants have been at all damaged and, according to the logbook that was still somewhat legible, remain in the same condition since last their maintenance check. Owing to these facts, the possibilities of the use of explosives or weapons of mass destruction or seismic activity have been ruled right out. It is likely that this disaster will be classified as an incident involving Vash the Stampede.'

Without further ado Milly abandoned her breakfast, dressed, swiftly packed a suitcase and sprinted out of the house and down the road to the nearest bus stop, in her haste having forgotten to remove one of her slippers and lock the front door behind her.

"One ticket to Septombre city!" she declaimed to the driver of the first bus that pulled in, her voice catching on her constricting throat.

"I'm sorry, young missy," the man said in a firm but sympathetic tone, "but this bus doesn't go anywhere beyond the Miami route. And…" he continued gently, "haven't you heard?"

"Septombre city, please!" Milly restated emphatically. Her eyes were brimming and her form shaking.

"It's off limits," the driver said plainly, clearly a little irritated at Milly's perseverance.

"This is urgent!" Milly cried and her hands flew up to her face. The driver eyed her empathetically for a moment then sighed and shook his head.

"On you get, then, missy." Milly nearly hugged him.

-

Syrell gave out a small rasp, a subliminal plea for water, though he continued trudging through the sand, his breaths coming in sighs of near-exhaustion. His arms dangled heavily at his sides and his head was hung, his sweaty neck offered to the moonlight. If it had been any other time of day, Syrell was certain he could have collapsed into the sand and died of intense heatstroke. The painful length of the trek so far was more than enough—he didn't need the severe heat of the twin suns to exacerbate it.

He swallowed, hoping that what little moisture was left in his mouth was enough to nullify the sting at the back of his throat—It wasn't.

Sighing loudly, Syrell looked up and sideways. He was somewhat amazed to see that he was still flanking Vash, who looked no less focused than any number of hours ago. Annoyance quickly replaced the surprise; annoyance that Vash hadn't noticed, or was coldly ignoring, the obvious signs of distress that Syrell was giving out.

"Mister Eriks," Syrell said suddenly.

"Mm?" Vash grunted in response, not taking his eyes off of the horizon.

"I think we should go back," Syrell stated.

"To what?" Vash replied, giving the indication that he was not about to return to the city they had left rotting.

"Civilization, maybe," Syrell offered. So far he had managed to keep the bother from his voice, but now he was getting a little impatient. "Listen, if we just continue on like this, we're going to die."

"We're not going to die," Vash said firmly.

"Eriks," Syrell said gently, "we have no water, no food, nothing but the clothes on our backs. There is absolutely nothing in this direction, for iles and iles, except for sand dunes. And when morning comes, we will have the sunstroke to deal with. I don't like to be a pessimist," he added, "but it appears to me that there is a good possibility that we will die." There was a long hiatus.

"We're not going to die," Vash reiterated. "I know what I'm doing." Syrell sighed plaintively at Vash's irrationality and proceeded in front of his way. Vash stopped and looked down at Syrell through his clear, moon glasses.

"Mister Eriks," Syrell said authoritatively.

"It's Vash."

"Right… Mister Vash, I know you'll contradict me if I say I understand how much your daughter means to you," Syrell began, "but even so, I really think it's urgent that we turn back. At least we could get some supplies and a jeep or something in Septombre then continue on again."

"If we did that, we'd lose the trail," Vash pointed out.

"We lost the trail hours ago!" Syrell groaned. Vash looked away for a moment then back at Syrell, a meaningful expression written on his face.

"Syrell, I'm sorry I got so angry with both you and Lavender," he confessed. Syrell nodded.

"It's okay," he accepted.

"And I'm sorry you had to see," Vash paused, "what you saw in Septombre. And I'm sorry I'm putting you through all this."

"You didn't ask me to come," Syrell pointed out.

"Well…that's true," Vash conceded. "But you are somewhat my responsibility. And I know you don't believe me when I say that we're not going to die, but you've just gotta trust me on this," he went on pleadingly. Syrell deliberated for a minute.

"Well…Okay," he said quietly.

"Thank you. You must know that Lavender is the most important person in the world to me."

"Yeah, I understand."

Having said what was needed, Vash stepped around Syrell and ambled on through the dark sand, deliberately keeping a slow pace for Syrell's respite. Syrell followed and sided Vash again, wondering how Vash had so easily convinced him.

With each step, Syrell exerted himself as little as possible, considerate of his remaining energy.

"And don't worry," Vash suddenly spoke out. He turned to Syrell with a sanguine grin on his face. "I think I know where we're going."

"Boy," said Syrell disdainfully, "that's encouraging." He laughed.

-

Lavender's mind was disorientated in its unconscious body. She rolled a little and her brain subliminally pounced on questioning why whatever it was she was lying on was so cold. She continued sleeping, however. Though, rolling over again, Lavender had shifted into a particularly tight position and something in her leg began to spasm. Her eyes promptly snapped open and her hands flew down to her shin, grasping at the painfully contracting muscles. She moaned through gritted teeth, willing the pain to stop.

After several long minutes of pain, however, the nauseating ache died down to a duller throb. Lavender loosened her grip on her leg, panting a little, and eased her eyes open again, having shut them tight with the brunt of the pain. She gazed around, her pupils adjusting to the gloom, and saw she was in a small chamber. Grey steel met her on all sides and the only light in the room emanated from a giant bulb-shaped tank centered on a high dais behind her.

'A plant,' Lavender realized. The plant hummed ever so quietly, as though it were nearing inactivity. The brightness of the light it was emitting, however, proved that it was very much alive. Lavender stared up at it in awe, never having seen one so close, almost making out some form amid the swirling pearly white. An eerie kind of feeling began to course her as she stared up into the glow. It felt ominously as though there were eyes on her.

She quickly pushed that feeling aside, not daring to glance behind her, should there have truly been someone watching her from out of the shadows. Lavender revered the plant once more, but found it not helping to calm the sense that she was not alone in this chamber. On the contrary, the plant seemed to have a strange sort of consciousness of its own. Perhaps it was focusing on Lavender even now, she supposed.

'The plant is not looking at me! That's just crazy!' Lavender reprimanded herself, glancing up and away from the plant. She stared at the ceiling, finding it somewhat difficult to make out. What the room lacked in perimeter, it made up for in height.

'What am I doing in here anyway? How'd I get in here?' The thought had only just occurred to Lavender. 'Where is here?' She sat futilely questioning herself for minutes on end before the entire reality of the situation came down on her like gravity.

'Dad… Where is dad? What happened to dad and Syrell?' In shock, she digested the question and waited as though for an answer. 'Maybe they're…Maybe I'm…' Lavender gasped at the thought. 'Dead?'

Suddenly she veered round, having perceived a shifting noise from behind. There was nothing. Shadow still consumed the walls. But for a split second, Lavender could have sworn that she saw two glowing orbs peering from out of the shade. Perhaps it could have only been the light imprinted on her eyes from having gawked at the plant so long, but Lavender's senses were heightened so much that even the tiniest noise, even the shifting of her own feet, seemed the like the spine-chilling whisper of a specter; every ray of light was the glint off of an otherworldly blade about to swing down on her. The very walls seemed to close in on her.

Lavender's breath grew thin as another tiny noise was issued from the darkness. Panic-stricken, she glanced from side to side, desperately looking for an escape. None presented themselves to her. There was only the staircase leading up to the plant. As ill omened as the plant seemed, light was certainly a better preference to darkness, as was the higher ground to where Lavender was standing.

Though shaking like a leaf, she made for the stairs and raced up them as fast as her legs allowed—perhaps faster, since her leg instigated again to spasm. Her left leg buckled beneath her and her knee hit the platform hard. Lavender bit back a scream, though not because of the cramp in her leg, but because she had precariously fallen backwards onto her other leg. A loud crack was issued and Lavender's ankle felt as if it were on fire, the pain was so great.

She could take it no longer. Hot tears ran in rivulets over Lavender's cheeks and she cried out in fear and pain, hunching up on the metal platform, clutching at both her legs.

"Daddy, where are you?" she wept loudly.

Lavender had hardly let out the force of her pain through her tears when suddenly she was grabbed at the shoulder from behind. She was turned and could not help but shriek at the ghostly face that met her.

Ohmahgah, who could it be? Review and find out. :D Have a Happy Christmas, everyone! XD