A/N- I do not own anything of Buffy or Angel. Except all those back issues of the Buffy magazine. I swear I paid for those!

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"Spike!" Angel said, shaking the shoulder of the unconscious one lying on the couch of the private jet. "Spike! Wake up. We're here."

"Yeah, Yeah. I'm up," yawned Spike lazily, "Where's here exactly?"

"Poland."

"Why are we in Poland? I thought the storm was hittin'…" asked a confused Spike, cocking his head to one side. His logic wasn't at his best as he was waking up.

"Yes, that's why we flew here. This is the closest airport to the storm that isn't closed. All others have been abandoned. From here, we'll drive to the areas affected. By then, the storm will have dissipated."

"What time is it?" asked Spike.

"About eight o'clock. The sun's setting as we speak," replied Gunn, now wheelchair free. Though his strength was returning, he was still a little slow in his steps, as was evident as he walked through the jet's door from outside. They had landed a little over an hour ago, but seeing as the last few rays of the sun were still evident, the team had to wait until it was certain the two vamps would be safe. A restless Gunn had gone back and forth from the private runway to the aircraft, keeping the awake vampire alert on the increasing darkness.

"Good, let's get going then. We should get there before sunrise. Then we'll find shelter," said Angel.

"Oh, goodie. Eight hours in the car with Blondie Bear and Queen Blue. This should be fun," said Spike with a smirk.

"Woah, woah, woah. Guys! Cut the crap, okay? We have a lot of work to do, so let's just go," ordered a much perturbed Angel.

The four walked from the jet one by one and continued to the car. There, Angel took the driver's seat, Spike sat shotgun, not willing to be further insulted by sitting in the back, where Illyria and a hesitant Gunn sat.

Twenty minutes into the drive, a battle different than the group was familiar with was about to occur. The group had been sitting in stony silence, both out of fear of what was to come and pure annoyance of being trapped in a car with their fellow companions.

"She's staring at me again," said Gunn, trying to avoid Illyria's gaze.

"Illyria. Stop staring at Gunn," Angel told Illyria half-heartedly, much like the annoyed father of the group.

"I find him fascinating," said the always eerie god, "He's so…"

"Ya' know, I really don't wanna' hear it," Gunn raised his palm as if to stop her in her tracks.

"And will you stop playing with the radio!" erupted Angel at Spike, who was twisting the car's radio dial to and fro, creating a squeaking racket in an attempt to find anything to suit his particular musical tastes.

"Well, sorry mate, I suppose I don't prefer the accordion as much as the avid Barry Manilow fan might."

"She's still staring at me!" shouted Gunn, more concerned about this continuing development than what music was being played at the time. Between Spike's curse-filled grumblings and incessant turning of the radio dials, despite Angel's warnings, Gunn's outbursts, and Illyria's odd mutterings, the jarring mesh of sounds crazed Angel. It had been quite a long trip, after all, and he wasn't quite sure how much more he could take.

"You know, if you all don't quit it right now, I swear I will turn this car around!" shouted Angel, once again father-like.

"Wouldn't bother me any," snorted Spike.

The four of them stuffed inside the small European car had reached the breaking point. With his left hand somewhat on the wheel, Angel hit Spike upside the head. Spike then pushed Angel to the side. If they had not been in such a particularly small European model, a full out brawl would have ensued. Being as it was, however, they simply swerved off the road into a ditch.

"Wonderful driving. You know…"Spike said sarcastically.

"Shut up. Look!" said Angel. He motioned forward where maybe 100 years away, where dark, thick storm clouds lay.

"What the…Where did those come from?" Spike asked to no one in particular.

"Good question." answered Angel, now preoccupied enough to have forgotten their previous mishap.

"Crap," said Gunn.

"It is beautiful," remarked Illyria oddly. They all turned to her, staring. "This dark reminds me of home. I enjoy this." She made some semblance of an unusual smile.

The other three looked at each other in disbelief, and sighed in defeat.

"Fabulous," said Spike. "Bloody fabulous."

"Looks like we got our work cut out of us," said Gunn. He had no idea how right he was.

"Oh yeah. Well, I guess we'd better get going then," sighed Angel.

And so they drove off, after first working themselves out of the ditch. They drove into the storm that lay ahead.