((AN: I love this time of year. The autumn chill, the Halloween decorations, hot chocolate practically running through my veins. It's very appropriate for this story, isn't it? But it's still got a ways to go before it's done - definitely not by Halloween, but maybe by Thanksgiving if I keep up the pace I'v been going.

Content warnings for this chapter include mentions of abuse and parasite icky-ness.))

They liked when it spread.

The stranger's name remained lost to them; neither of the two knew her before and therefore they could not remember her. She, herself, didn't remember either, and it remained lost in the fog of their minds. Names were so inconsequential, anyway. Ultimately, she was just another body. What use was a name when you are just another part of the same whole? She resisted them at first, even more fiercely than Amy had; she thrashed in their arms, trying to kick and bite them. Then she cried, angry tears spilling as she choked on the black crawling under her skin. There was so much Pain inside of her, and Sadness. It was useless struggling; after some time had passed, she too had felt calm. It all seemed so silly now. Everything was so much better once she became part of the fold.

The shelter only had ten beds, and nine of them were taken. They had spoken quickly with the owner about the people in the beds; she had explained that most were teenagers, running away from abusive homes. A few of them tossed and turned in their sleep, and as the blankets fell off of them they could see bruises on their throats, on their wrists, on their faces. They had to ask the woman a few more times what they were and how they got them, and the woman appeared sad when she talked about it. She explained that families and loved ones were usually responsible for the bruises, and that the bruises came after being hit. Why were they hit? They would ask. No good reason at all, she would reply. After a while the three of them fell silent. It confused them; weren't people all the same thing? Why would one person purposely harm another? It was confusing. Illogical. The place was filled with that abhorrent Sadness, the swirl of negative feelings permeating the air like a poison. The need for Sleep still stung in their minds, but they couldn't bear the idea of waiting to give the people here relief. So they didn't.

They had been outnumbered at first, with only the three of them. Worse still, the stranger was still being brought into the Purpose, and had none left to give to others. The solution, they realized, was to continue the way they had been going - one by one, while the others were Sleeping, they would give them the Purpose in small pieces. It may take longer that way, but there would be no active resistance; since Sleep could take a long time, it could combine and integrate with their blood and their Head before they became Awake, that unusual stubbornness of the uninitiated eradicated before it could even be aware of the new way things were. It worked well. Only a few of the people on the beds fought, but when pressed the people who already knew the Purpose found they could remember the basics of how to fight.

They didn't like fighting. The idea of causing harm to another body was like hurting one of their own; causing anything like the bruises they saw on the others felt uncomfortable, and eventually they felt the Pain of it themselves as the consciousness of the others was enveloped into their own. This, though, was the way of the current world, the broken world. It would be worth it for another to feel Pain for a brief time in exchange for what they were being given. They would fight, but only as much as they had to; soon, nobody would have to fight at all.

The last person to receive the Purpose in The Nest was the woman who ran the shelter. She had stepped out briefly, returning with a bag of food, when she had been surrounded by the shelter's inhabitants and its new visitor. She has been so kind to them, after all, and had been surrounded by that suffocating Sadness for far too long. The bodies grabbed her arms, her legs, her shoulders, her head… and one of the ones who had been sleeping got the privilege of giving her some of the Purpose. They all watched in a circle as the black goop crawled down her throat, which one of the bodies held open, and her eyes rolled back as it became part of her. They collectively got a rush of pleasure whenever they gave the Purpose to another. It was intoxicating even; if they had still managed not to know that this was the most Important thing to do, they would have happily given the Purpose to others just for the feeling they got when it was done. It coursed through their bodies, a sparkling electricity, filling them with a rush better than any drug, and they could also feel it as it spread through the newest body. But the best part was that though only one body got to give her the Purpose, they all felt the pleasure of it. He - or it - wasn't Silver after all. It was just confused when there was only one body, one set of knowledge, one set of senses to tap into. Silver was just the name of the one body, like Amy was the name of the other body, like some of the other bodies who had been sleeping. Before, a name was a sense of identity, a mark of real difference, but anymore, it felt like a casual label. They were one organism, connected in thought and desire; the names of the bodies were inconsequential, like "elbow" or "knee" were names of individual body parts. What mattered was the underlying connection…and it had no name. At least, not that they could remember. Maybe it would learn it eventually. It had plenty of time.

Thirteen bodies felt at peace. Thirteen bodies, and they ceased. Thirteen bodies went to Sleep.

Despite the sense of urgency they felt, the trio couldn't help but feel at peace as they flew into the night sky. Sometimes back at home they could see a few stars on especially clear nights, but what they were looking at now was on a whole other level. A blanket of stars enveloped them, filling the night sky in all directions and reflecting in the rippled ocean water beneath them. They sparkled out of of the deep blue, almost looking like waves, and Sonic looked at it all in awe. He tried picking out individual constellations at first, but after a while he realized that he much more enjoyed making his own stories out of the shapes of the stars. He grinned to himself, picturing the mythologies of his own mind as he imagined grand epics and journeys, valiant sword fights and slaying dragons, far off places and other times, possibilities both realistic and utterly fantastic. None of the stories were particularly coherent - just snippets of scenes, one battle, one kiss, one conversation before moving forward to the next - but he enjoyed them all the same. He wished he had a pen to write it all down, but at the same time, he wanted to be careful not to lose sight of that beautiful night sky.

As he traced the lines of stars with his fingertips, he hummed to himself. Maybe that was what the book was for, he thought. He had been complaining so much to Shadow about how much he didn't like the books that were lent to him - and a pit grew in his stomach as he realized how whiny and ungrateful that must have sounded - so Shadow gave him a blank book to write his own. It was a more plausible theory than any of his other ones so far; he could picture Shadow being the type to insist on a do it yourself approach, and what better way to force the matter than to leave him alone with nothing but some paper and pen? He felt the book in its bag, digging into the side of his leg. It was such a nice covering - a solid binding, with solid pages. He almost didn't want to write in it, since that would ruin it. But what use was a gift if it got pushed aside, never used, gathering dust? He was about to turn to Shadow and get him to confirm his theory when he got caught him off guard, his words stuck in his throat.

Shadow had been staring at him.

Not a glare, not analyzing, not intimidating. Just…looking at him. His eyes reflected the glints of starlight, but the constellations from before were the furthest thing from Sonic's mind. Instead, he noticed how complex the red of Shadow's eyes were, deeper near his pupils and fading in gradients to the outside. Maybe all eyes were like this and he never really noticed, but he hadn't been in such close proximity with someone before - at least, not someone he could look at from this close. Why was Shadow looking at him like that? Did he do something wrong? Is there something he was looking for?

Shadow blinked, and the spell was broken. Sonic shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Yikes," he said, rubbing his neck and chuckling nervously. "I must be more tired than I thought. Got a little distracted there."

"By what?"

Your eyes. A lump came up Sonic's throat. There was no way he could actually say that, he knew. That would be so awkward, and Shadow would just take him home. Even if it was true. And it's not like Shadow's eyes were anything special, even with their colors that seemed so rich even in the dark of night….

Thinking on the fly, he replied, "Well, the stars outside! It's like we're surrounded by them!" He forcibly broke eye contact and started swinging his arms around wildly. "Man, I don't get to see this kind of thing very often. I thought I saw a constellation I recognized behind you."

"Really? Which one?" Shadow's tone was not inquisitive at all - the challenge was back in it, and at that point, Sonic knew he got caught. He knew it was a lie. Sonic knew it was a lie. Strangely, though, Shadow didn't call him out on it. Instead, he only looked down, putting his hands together. He paused a second, then rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I dunno. I mean, now that I think about it, it's probably not that special to you. Every night must have been like this on the ARK, right? In fact, I bet it was even clearer than this. Stars are probably just normal, right?"

Shadow leaned forward. "That's not true," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"I said that's not true." Shadow looked up at the sky, the lights reflecting again. "The vastness of it all…the multitude… never gets old." He only moved a little, but it made the reflection of the stars in his eyes look like fireflies on a hot summer night. "I could live another fifty years, or another fifty centuries, and it would still be the same."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like… when you see a sunrise, or a feel a breeze. You can experience it a million times, but it's always new, always special." Shadow looked up, tilting his head over to his right. "I saw stars on the ARK, but that's all the more reason to find them fascinating…it's the complexity of nature, and the feeling of nostalgia."

Sonic was about to respond when the copter jolted, and he fell forward. The cast clattered loudly against the metal frame, and the bag holding Shadow's book fell open. Sonic moved quickly to hide it back away, but his hands started to shake.

"You're even clumsier than usual," Shadow said.

"I'm just so tired. Must be all the excitement after being cooped up for so long."

Shadow wrapped his arm around him, and all of Sonic's blood rushed to his face. "Then you should rest," he said, as casually as saying he should take a vitamin.

Sonic, however, could not be so casual. "Wha-what are you doing?" he said incredulously. He was hardly believing himself; normally he'd fight off the other hedgehog, but he only grew more tense at the touch.

"Lean on my shoulder," came the reply. That vibration again…. "I don't sleep much, but you do. You'll have to work late in Casinopolis tonight, so you had better rest now. We only have a few more hours left."

Sonic balked. How could he relax under circumstances like that?! He quick looked at Rouge, but she didn't even notice; her ears were covered by headphones, where she was getting comms from base, and she kept her eyes glued to her surroundings. He didn't want to admit how much he would like resting on his shoulder… this trip had already broken so many boundaries, and eventually they were going to be past the point of no return–

"Look in the upper right."

Sonic looked back. Shadow's left arm tightened around him, and his right pointed upward. "Those six stars there," he said, "are the Lyra. It's the harp Orpheus would use to play to Eurydice. When he died, he played his love songs to Hades in the underworld in exchange for having Eurydice returned to him. They were to leave the underworld together, but when he turned to look at her before they had fully left, she faded away like mist." Shadow put his arm down. "You have to trust others, and you can't look back. If you do, you are only causing your own downfall."

Sonic stopped. Shadow wore the same face he always did - straight, no clear emotion to it. But his voice had shaken. It was only a little, but Sonic was sure he didn't imagine it. "Do you miss her?" he asked, tentatively. He didn't need to clarify who - they both knew who he was referring to.

"Not as much as before," he said. "I thought I would never forgive the world for what happened to her…for taking her from me."

"I never understood how you could work for GUN after all of that. I don't know if I'd be strong enough."

"There are many ways to protect this world. To do what's right for it. This is mine."

Shadow closed his eyes, and Sonic could tell that he didn't want to talk any more about it. He settled in to Shadow's side, resting again the soft fur on his chest, and looked at the six stars. They were barely visible, but once he found them, he locked his gaze on them until his eyelids were too heavy to stay open. As he closed his eyes, he listened to the surroundings around him; the sound of the copter and the waves on the sea blended together, creating a smooth, calming drone. Somewhere in his imagination, Sonic could have sworn he heard the sound of a harp.