They stopped shortly after four p.m. just outside of the Texas border to refuel the tank and grab some sandwiches, hunger no longer able to be held
off.

He filed up the tank while she went inside and bought the sandwiches. There was no need to eat in the diner, the car could offer the same comfort
but with much more privacy.

With the items in hand, she stepped back out into the dry hot air and headed back to the red 1965 Mustang. She climbed into the back seat, sitting
next to the pale, young woman. She handed her chips, a drink, and a turkey sandwich.

“You need to eat,” she said softly yet sternly.

She simply nodded and took the items offered. She munched on what she could, her stomach not accepting much.

After a short time they were on the road once again, silence feeling the space around them.

Willow looked out the window, wondering when she would awoke from this horrible nightmare.

                                                      * * * * * * * * * * *
 
 

The room was filled with tension as they each began their own research. As much as Angel’s help was appreciated, the uneasiness among them was
evident. Angel and Buffy hadn’t even exchanged five words among themselves since his arrival, nor had Cordelia and Xander been together alone in
the same room, perhaps it was because Anya never left his side. The added presence of Riley among them afforded an added stress, one that the
group did not need.

He had afford the Initiatives help, but if they accepted it, they would have a stake if anything happened. That was something they could not afford or
at least was something Angel was strongly against.

Once their eyes began to blur, the group broke off into a much needed break. They ordered pizza and took a breather. It was the opportunity Angel
had needed to pull Doyle and Cordelia to the side.

“I need you both to try and find what this opens,” Angel said as he pulled out the silver key from his pocket.

“How are we supposed to......” Cordelia began to complain.

“Locksmith,” Angel replied quickly.

“And the not so locksmiths,” Doyle added, knowing what he meant “Why?”

“I found it in my apartment...”

“Shouldn’t we be researching more?” Cordelia interrupted.

“This might be hers,” Angel revealed.

“Oh..... but how did.....” she questioned curious.

Doyle grabbed Cordy’s hand and pulled her with him as they all went to the door.

“Call me when you find anything.” Angel said.

Doyle nodded and left, Angel closing the door behind them. He resumed his position in front of the laptop and began his second search.

                                                      * * * * * * * * * * *
 
 

Willow’s eyes began to droop, the silence in the car and the smooth drive hypnotizing her. It was until she felt a tiny shake that she realized what she
was doing.

“Let’s stop and stretched out our legs,” she said.

He pulled over along the shoulder of the road, his emergency lights flashing. The hot dry air had turned into a cool breeze along the deserted road.
They had been cramped up in the car for far too long, their backs, butts, and neck aching.

Willow looked around the deserted highway, the night falling much to fast for her. She wrapped her arms around her, a cold chill running up her
spine.

“Where are we going?” she asked softly.

“Somewhere safe,” the tall dark man replied, trying to offer her some comfort.

“It won’t be much longer,” the woman reassured.

Willow simply nodded, knowing her life was in there hands.

                                                      * * * * * * * * * * *
 
 

“So how long has this social been active?” Riley asked.

“The real Ira Rosenburg died in 1952 in Albany, New York but the social remained active.

“But how can that be?” Xander asked.

“As long as you pay your taxes, the government doesn’t really care. They need to be notified when a person has died to de-activate it. They never
seemed to have received that bit of information.”

“So someone else took his identity? How?” Buffy asked.

“As long as you have the money and know the right people you can change who you are. I know, I’ve seen it,” Angel replied as he clicked into
another screen.

“Then Willow’s parents aren’t.....” Xander said a bit numb.

“No. What we need to know is who they really are....... and if Willow knew about it,” Riley said carefully.

“That’s why they were cremated,” Giles reasoned.

“No body, no fingerprints, no dental recordings.....” Riley added .

Angel was a step ahead of them, already knowing what they were thinking.

“Xander, can you remember if Willow was ever sick?” Angel asked.

“What?”

“Sick. A cold or flu....... a broken arm or something?”

Xander’s mind raced to think of something, but found nothing.

“No.... she was pretty healthy..... never had a cast... why?”

“There aren’t any records of her at the hospital.....”

“That’s impossible. She was in a coma there when she performed the restoration spell on you. The bookcase fell on her.... she was there, in the
hospital. We saw her there,” Buffy said.

“Then it was taken out of the system. There is no trace of a Willow Rosenburg being looked at in Sunnydale Hospital.

“How the Hell. She was there,” Xander replied freaked out.

“What about the parents?” Riley asked.

“Nothing. They aren’t in the system.”

“Have you checked the bank records, work records, anything else?” Giles asked.

“Their clean. Savings and checking account is normal. They have themselves as next of kin and Willow as beneficiary. Work is clean, nothing out of
order, except that they did not have medical insurance.”

“Check her school records. Someone has to be posted for emergencies, maybe even a doctor’s number,” Xander advised.

Angel did as asked, extremely happy he had taken upon himself to learn more about computers and hacking, an amateur at best. It also didn’t hurt
that he had some people in LA that gave him a few pointers. Compared to the security systems in LA, Sunnydale had very low standards. Angel was
able to enter the school records in less then ten minutes.

“She had her parents and Giles as people to call.”

“No other names you can find on the form?” Giles asked.

“None.... wait.... I found something.”

“What?” Anya asked curious.

“Her doctor. Dr. Franklin Cover.”

                                                      * * * * * * * * * * *
 
 

“Here, drink this. It’ll help you stay awake.”

Willow took the green drink with a bit of hesitation. She was surprised to taste its sour and sweet taste, something her tastebuds liked.

“Are we there yet?” Willow asked, not completely sure where they were headed.

She knew they had crossed into Texas an hour ago, she just wasn’t sure if they planed on staying in that state.

“You’ll be staying with me,” the woman answered.

Willow nodded wondering just how she would be meant to live her new life.

                                                      * * * * * * * * * * *
 
 

“Hand me the fax the coroner received,” Angel said.

Giles fumbled with the file before handing it to him. In five minutes Angel entered the Sunnydale Telephone Company and began his search.

The phone number on the school form was registered to a Dr. Franklin Cover at 150 Belmont, on the outskirts of Sunnydale. He placed in the fax
number from the top page of the page where the request was made and found it belonged to a Franklin Cover at 84 Southport, on the other side of
town.

He tried the phone, finding both numbers listed disconnected even the fax line.

“Time to pay a visit,” Buffy said as she marched out with the rest of the group behind her.

                                                      * * * * * * * * * * *
 
 

“Are you sure?” Doyle asked.

“Positive. Make keys for them all the time. Usually for the new owners.”

“Do you have an address?” Cordelia asked.

“I’ll give you it to you, but it won’t do you any good. There closed right now.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Doyle replied happy.

It had taken them four locksmiths and a referral to “Eddie” to find out what the key may open.

“Here goes. Not many people know about it. Not many people use the Ferguson Train station much. It’s in the lower level.”

“Thanks. You have no idea how much you’ve helped us.”

“No problem. Just make sure you don’t tell them who referred you. There known for their animity.”

“No problem.”

With address in hand, they walked out of the third floor greystone hoping it offered some help.

                                                      * * * * * * * * * * *
 
 

They arrived to the second location to find what they had found at the first. Land for sale. No buildings or houses. Just barren land.

“This guy does not want to be found,” Xander commented.

“This guy just might not exist.”

“A fake brother, a fake doctor, fake names. What else can there be?” Buffy replied at wits end.

They were all at the end of a rope they new would give out soon. They still hadn’t even been able to mourn for their friend or her parents and now
learning all these truths threaten more their already fragile emotions.

It was Angel’s cell that answered Buffy’s question. He quickly answered it, knowing who it would be.

“What?”

“Found it I think.”

“Where?”

“Ferguson Train Station. Meet you in the front.”

“I’ll be there.”

With that said he placed his cell back into his jacket and told the group to head back to Giles home and rest.

“Do you know something we don’t?” Xander asked a bit suspicious.

“I’ll tell you when I do,” he replied and left.

He hurried down the streets, knowing Doyle and Cordelia were most likely there already. His mind was a mixture of emotions he pushed to the side.
That would get him no where right now. He had finally placed the sweet fragrance in the bedroom, one that belonged to Willow. How he knew, or
where he had smelled it on her before was still a mystery to him, one that he intended on finding out.

He turned the corner and found them standing in front of the car.

“Nice of you to join us,” Doyle commented, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

“What did you find?”

“The key belongs to a storage thing or locker in the lower level of the train station.”

“Nice and isolated,” Angel commented.

“Hardly known. That’s what the guy said. Known for its animity,” Cordelia added.

“Also closed,” Doyle finished.

“Best time. Cordy stay in the car. Doyle keep a look out. I’ll be back.”

They did as told and saw the shadow sneak inside with a silver key in hand.

It didn’t take long for him to make it into the lower level without being seen, by-passing the one guard in the lobby. The true problem would be
which lock the key opened.

Their were only eight rows of large lockers - at least twenty on each wall. He tried each, finally finding the lock to which the key opened after at least
25 tries, number 422. He hesitated a moment then opened the locker, not sure what to expect.

                                                      * * * * * * * * * * *
 
 

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