Where Angels Tread
By Spike SpeigelOf Things To Come
“Do you have to do that?”
As the night air surrounded the occupants of the car, Buffy’s hair freely flowed in the wind. Angel couldn’t help but look back slightly as Spike sat with his elbow propped on the back door of the car, a cigarette dangling from his lips. As Spike exhaled the noxious fumes, Angel began to hate the smell of the smoke wafting through the car. Spike spoke, not really placing any weight to Angel’s question. “Do what?”
Angel growled slightly at the feigned innocence Spike was now displaying. “That. You have three hundred and sixty degrees of space to work with. You don’t have to keep blowing that garbage up here.”
Spike grinned as he brought his index and middle finger up to his mouth, the cigarette sliding effortlessly between them. He tilted his head back slightly as he inhaled the smoke, savoring the nicotine and God knows what else as it worked its way into his blood. As the sensation began to flit away, Spike exhaled once again, the smoke hitting Angel square in the back of his neck. “Sorry mate, I haven’t the foggiest what you’re jabbering about.”
With Angel’s growl growing louder, Buffy silently chuckled at the infantile display being exhibited. She decided to intervene before something serious happened. “Spike, maybe you can wait until we get there to light up again. Huh?” Buffy turned her body around in the seat, her eyes locking with the back-seat passenger. Her lips pouted playfully, Spike groaning in defeat as his eyes stared back at hers. He reluctantly extinguished the glowing end of the cigarette between his thumb and index finger before flicking the remnants of the cigarette into the surrounding night moving past them.
As Buffy smiled at him, Spike whispered under his breath. “I am so bloody whipped.” Unfortunately, he forgot the part about the vampire in the driver’s seat having excellent hearing.
“What’d you say?”
Spike quickly covered his faux pas while Buffy looked on, a hint of trepidation on her face. “I said I could use a nip. I’m starving.”
Buffy played along, turning back around in her seat. “I could use something to drink. How about a quick stop, Angel?”
Angel eyed Buffy curiously before turning his eyes back to the nearly empty road in front of him. He sighed softly as he considered his passengers’ words. “Yeah. A stop will give me a chance to call home.” He focused his sight to the side of the road, the myriad of road signs moving too quickly in the dark for human eyes to see. Fortunately, that wasn’t a problem for the driver as he steered the car onto the off ramp. “Hope you like your food fried, cuz that’s all you’re gonna get within ten square miles.”
Buffy groaned beneath her breath, Spike grinning slightly at her irritation. While Buffy liked to stuff her face with junk food as much as the next person, fried animal parts were never a favorite of hers. That much he picked up on when Dawn had suggested going to the Doublemeat Palace for dinner earlier that night. Well, that was just a guess, but a good one nonetheless based on the grimace that overcame Buffy’s countenance once the words Doublemeat and Palace reached her ears.
“No worries, luv. I’m sure they’ll take out the animal chunks from the Caesar salad. What fast food employee could refuse a face like yours, eh?” Buffy didn’t mean to chuckle so loudly, but Spike had been doing that to her lately. Making her laugh. Making her smile. Making her happy. Angel noted the lack of effort Spike needed to make her laugh. To tell the truth, Buffy never really laughed like that around him when they were a couple. It was more fawning and starry-eyed looks more than anything else. But, it didn’t make a difference. Spike didn’t have a chance in hell to ever claim Buffy’s heart. Right?
Before he could ponder that thought, Buffy’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Angel, you’re going off the road.”
“Hmm, what?”
“Car. Road. Car leaving road.” Angel’s eyes followed Buffy’s pointed finger, finally realizing that the car was now half on the road, half on the gravel. He quickly corrected the steering before Buffy spoke again. “You okay, Angel? Seems like you’re not entirely here.”
“Sorry. Got a lot of things on my mind.”
Spike threw in his two cents, Angel almost forgetting about him in the back seat. “I on that list?”
“You know the answer to that. If I didn’t underestimate your speed, we wouldn’t even be here now. Must be losing it. I was always faster than you.”
Buffy chimed in, a hint of anger in her voice. “Yeah? Well, it’s a good thing you did, because you wouldn’t be here either if you’d pulled off that lame brain stunt.”
Spike couldn’t help but grin as Angel looked at the woman in the passenger seat, confusion enveloping every fiber of his being. Before Angel could respond to Buffy’s retort, Spike interrupted the fight that would have occurred had Angel opened his big mouth. “Exit on your right, mate.”
Angel quickly glanced back at Spike from the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to the road. As he entered the off ramp, Spike disregarded Buffy’s earlier plea and pulled a cigarette from the pack lying next to him. He’d need more than a pack if he was going to survive this excursion to L.A.
Connor sat in the desolate, abandoned drive-in, still a bit shaken about what had previously happened that day. He had been minding his business, Justine sitting in the corner of the room reading a paper, when the voice boomed through his head. It was so intense Connor fell from his seat and onto the floor disoriented. His hands clutching the sides of his head, the voice intensified, becoming more recognizable even though he had only heard it once prior.
“We need to meet, young Connor.”
“It hurts! It hurts so much!”
As Connor’s body began to ease in its flailing, the pain becoming more bearable, Dante continued his tirade. “I apologize. I forgot that your kind is not accustomed to this manner of communication. But I need your aid. I must see you tonight.”
Connor pushed himself up from the floor, his eyes beginning to break the haze that had enveloped him along with the pain. As he regained his sight, Justine came into view at his side, her arms on his shoulders trying to steady him. Even though this person was essentially a stranger to him, Father had trusted her. And so did Connor now.
He gently pushed her arms away as he stood up, Justine looking on in confusion as Connor began to speak to the emptiness of the room. “Where?”
“Someplace private, preferably. Pick a suitable location and I will find you.”
“How?”
Dante’s voice remained calm as he spoke, but Connor could have sworn he heard a hint of condescension in his words. “It is of no concern to you. All you need to worry about are the items I need for tonight.”
“Items?” Connor’s eyes fell on Justine, finally noticing the unease in her stature. He slightly nodded his head to indicate that everything was fine. Justine responded with an awkward smile as Connor’s conversation with Dante continued without her knowledge.
“Pay attention, young aide, for these are imperative for our upcoming campaign against those that have hurt us.”
And with that, Connor listened as Dante’s voice continued to reverberate in his head; Justine looking on is slight disbelief of the scene occurring in front of her. Before the silence had a chance to settle in the room, Connor exhaled slightly before bringing his eyes to Justine’s. “Do you know where the museum is?”
Justine walked over to Connor, gently squeezing his shoulder as she spoke. “Yeah. It’s not far.”
“Good. This shouldn’t take long then.”
Connor moved toward the motel room door, Justine following closely behind, grabbing her jacket and car keys as she closed the door behind her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Fred tilted her head slightly, sipping lackadaisically at her milkshake, the straw essentially dangling from her lips. As she chewed on the end of the straw, her words mumbled out between sips. “Looking at you like what?”
Cordelia sighed softly as she continued poking around her garden salad with her spork. Now there was an invention. She wondered what would possess someone to combine a fork and spoon into the contraption now in her grasp. Cordelia quickly pushed the thought away, responding to Fred’s question. “Like there’s something growing on the back of my head.”
“Well, you had an eye there once.”
“Very funny, Winifred.” Cordelia took another bite from her salad as Fred examined the wrappers strewn across the counter that served as check-in for the Hyperion once upon a time. Three wrappers. Which meant she had finished eating all of her double cheeseburgers. And she was still hungry. Maybe Gunn was right. Her stomach had to be enchanted to allow her to eat so much without gaining any weight. Cordelia caught Fred’s frown upon examining the counter. “Want some of my yogurt?”
Fred considered her friend’s words before answering. “That’s okay. I’m not that hungry.”
“What’s wrong with yogurt?”
“What isn’t wrong with it? All those living cultures just swarming around in there. It’s like eating a small city.”
Cordelia smiled as Fred twisted her face into a playful grimace. “Oh, but eating half a cow’s okay.” Fred’s brow furrowed in confusion until Cordelia pointed at the Doublemeat Palace bag and wads of paper strewn between them.
“Well, that’s different.”
“Is it, now?”
“Of course it is.”
“Do tell.”
Fred looked at Cordelia, now grinning at her as she continued picking at her salad. Fred sat there on the stool, trying to refute Cordelia’s stance. Unfortunately, nothing good came to mind. “Give me a spoon.”
Cordelia softly chuckled as she slid the yogurt carton toward Fred, the spoon held securely on top of the lid. She laid the spork on the side of the plastic carton holding the contents of her salad, her eyes intently focused on Fred as she peeled off the lid of the yogurt cup. Fred tentatively dipped the spoon into the white substance with fruit hidden on the bottom like some type of sunken treasure. As Fred brought the spoon to her lips, Cordelia smiled as the look on Fred’s face changed from one of worry to one of joy. “Good, isn’t it?”
Fred nodded her head slightly as she scooped up another helping of yogurt. “Doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about those little fellas swimming around in there.”
“I’m sure they didn’t feel a thing.”
Fred smiled slightly before both resumed their respective meals. As the silence enveloped the room once again, Fred interrupted it, slightly startling Cordelia. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
Fred propped her elbows on the counter, her chin now cupped in her hands as she spoke. “I can see it in your eyes. Even though you seem okay, you look so sad in there.”
Cordelia’s response came quickly, quietly. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I? When was the last time you actually laughed? You used to laugh a lot before…before…”
Cordelia nodded, understanding Fred’s statement. Things had been very different ever since Wesley left and Connor had almost killed Angel. It still bothered her to no end about what she had given up. She had given it all up for him. And maybe damned herself in the process. But there was no other choice. She couldn’t have left Angel to die out there in the ocean. No matter what Skip had shown her. Friends didn’t abandon each other in times of need.
But that was a lie. She was on her way to the bluff to tell Angel how she felt about him. About how he made her a better person. And for that she could never repay him. But now, with Connor still lurking about and Wesley’s whereabouts unknown, it didn’t seem like the right time to tell him how she felt. It wouldn’t be fair to him. And there was also the slight fear that he didn’t feel the same way she did. Because there was still that one person that held claim to his heart. Buffy.
“Cordelia?”
“Hmm?”
“You kinda zoned out there.”
“Oh, sorry. What were you saying?”
Fred frowned slightly as she spoke. “Look, I know there’s something wrong. Maybe if you talk about it, you’ll feel better. I know I do whenever I talk to Charles.”
“You really don’t want to know what’s bothering me.”
“Sure I do. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”
Cordelia looked over at Fred, wondering whether Fred was being sincere or not. However, her doubt was quickly dispelled upon seeing a subtle smile on the other woman’s face. “Fine, but you’re gonna be sorry once I get this off my chest.”
“Then I look forward to being sorry.”
Cordelia chuckled slightly as she spoke. “You’re a unique one, Winifred.”
“I know. Now spill.”
Cordelia smiled slightly as she began to speak. “It’s just…things have been awkward lately between Angel and me. First with everything that’s happened over the past few months and now with Angel going to Sunnydale.” Fred looked on intently, absorbing every word being spoken. “I think I’m afraid that…”
Unfortunately, Cordelia never got a chance to finish her sentence. Mainly because of the doors of the Hyperion swinging open, the group walking in throwing Cordelia off guard.
“Hey, Cordy. I’m back.”
Fred answered Angel, Cordelia’s eyes still fixated on the two individuals standing behind Angel. “And you’ve brought guests. Good thing we live in a hotel. Plenty of room for all.” Fred slid off the stool, walking over to the group now standing at the base of the stairs. “Hi, I’m Fred. And you are?”
“I’m Buffy. And this is Spike.”
Spike grinned slightly at Fred, Buffy gently nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. Spike quickly gave Buffy a ‘what was that for’ look before speaking. “Hullo, luv. Give us a shake.”
Fred cautiously extended her hand, remembering that this was the same person that was supposedly going to cause the end of the world. However, her worry dissipated as Spike gently shook her hand, a slight smirk of innocence on his face. While Fred was indisposed with the new arrivals, Angel moved toward Cordelia. “Hey. How were things while I was gone?”
Cordelia smiled awkwardly, her eyes darting between Angel and the group behind him. “Quiet. I’m starting to think you’re the reason things go to hell around here.”
Angel smiled slightly, looking around at the lobby. “Where’re Gunn and Lorne?”
“Boys’ night out.”
Angel quickly glanced at the remnants of dinner lying on the counter before speaking. “And this is your girls’ night out?”
“Something like that.”
Before Angel could reply, the group walked over to the counter, Buffy’s voice interrupting their conversation. “Hi, Cordelia.”
Cordelia moved from behind the table counter, walking over to Buffy. As Cordelia stood in front of her, the silence became prevalent once again. Before Buffy could break the silence, Cordelia moved toward Buffy, her arms embracing Buffy. “It’s good to see you. It’s been so long.”
Buffy reciprocated the hug, speaking softly. “I know what you mean. It’s good to see you too.”
As the women remained in their embrace, Spike looked over to Angel, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Why don’t you ever hug me like that?”
Angel growled softly as he spoke. “Shut up, Spike.”
Fred giggled as she looked up at Spike. “You’re really funny, you know that?”
“Must be the hair. A regular Carrot Top, yeah?”
“Nah, you’re better than him.”
Spike chuckled as he spoke. “You’re okay, luv.”
Fred smiled at Spike before speaking out again. “So, what are you guys doing here anyway?”
Buffy and Cordelia released from their embrace, Buffy looking behind her as she answered the question. “We’re here to clear up some misconceptions.”
Spike spoke, his voice now intently serious. “So, what’s say we wrap this up as soon as possible so we can all go on our merry ways.”
Angel looked over at Spike, a tint of hatred in his voice. “Fine with me. I’m sure we can get inside the hospital without much effort.”
Buffy quickly turned around, about to curtail the inevitable squabble that was about to begin. However, Cordelia’s voice interrupted her. “I think you guys should get over there right now.”
Angel turned his gaze to Cordelia, his brow furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Unless my visions have gone haywire, Mr. Tweedy’s going to die tonight.”
Gunn didn’t really like the company around them. He couldn’t really help it. It was the way he was brought up. Living in Los Angeles, seeing what he’d seen over the years, it was only natural to think the worst of them. It wasn’t like they were people, anyway. But that wasn’t true. Ever since he’d been working at Angel Investigations, he’d seen things in a different light. Albeit slowly, but he was beginning to accept the fact that there were good demons out there as well. That didn’t mean he had to like them all though.
“Hey, what’s wrong Charles? You’re barely touching your daiquiri.”
“Sorry, Lorne. But I’m not much of a drinker.” Gunn looked down at the fruity concoction, a little umbrella perched precariously on the side of the lip, pointing up at him with utter abandon for its well-being. “And after tonight, I don’t think I’ll be drinking any time soon.”
“Good for you, Charles.” Lorne brought the margarita up to his lips, taking a healthy sip, before speaking again. “It’s a nasty habit. But, it feels good as hell going down, though.”
Gunn chuckled slightly, his eyes moving back to the front of the bar. On the stage was a group called the Dixie Styx. According to Lorne, the members were hellspawn sent to earth as messengers between the two realms. However, it seemed that the earth culture had proven too powerful for them to resist, especially those three cute country crooners. So, they created a cover band and modified the name to reflect their affiliation. At least, that’s the way Lorne told it. “They’re not half bad.”
“You’re right. They’re all bad.”
Gunn looked at Lorne, a hint of confusion on his face. “You don’t like them? Then why’d you bring us here, then?” Lorne pointed over to the waitress in the corner, her tail lifting the back of her skirt ever so slightly to border on indecent. Gunn chuckled at the sudden realization. “You should talk to her. I’m sure you two’d hit it off.”
Lorne took another sip from his glass, almost as an afterthought, before speaking. “You think? I know that I look suave and sophisticated on the surface, but underneath, I’m just a lowly phleeb.”
“Phleeb?”
“Nerd. Dork. Ignoramus. Take your pick.”
“Ahh.” Gunn sighed slightly, realizing that the lack of confidence in his friend was somewhat unnecessary. After all, he wasn’t a phleeb. Maybe a bit of an eccentric, but that was pretty much expected in the group. “Look, man. Take a chance. Worse that can happen is she says no.”
“Or disembowels me right here.”
“Okay, but you heal quick.” Lorne nodded agreement, indicating that Gunn had him there. “On the upside, you could end up with a pleasant morning instead of just a hangover.”
Lorne mulled over his friend’s pros and cons before sliding his chair away from the table, getting up casually. “Look after my drink. I’m off to humiliate myself.”
Gunn smiled, a hint of assurance in his voice. “That’s the spirit. Go get ‘em, you dashing specimen of manliness.” Lorne chuckled slightly before disappearing into the sea of inebriated people. Gunn followed him as much as he could from his seat, but the crowd coupled with the smoke got the better of him. So, he turned his attention back to the band, the pink concoction still untouched. As the music began to flood his senses, his body relaxing into the chair, a sudden vibration against his chest stirred him from his state of euphoria. Gunn instinctively reached into his inside breast pocket, fishing out his cell. “Gunn.”
“How close are you to Mr. Tweedy?”
“Angel?”
“Yeah. No time to explain. How close.”
Gunn recognized the air of concern in Angel’s voice, so decided to keep the conversation as concise as possible. “We’re about a block away.”
“Good. I want you and Lorne to look after place until we get there.”
“Sure. What’s going on, Angel?”
Angel took a worried breath that was unnecessary before continuing. “Cordy thinks someone’s going to kill him tonight.”
“Say no more, man. We’re on it.”
“Good. We’ll meet you there.”
With that, Gunn clicked off the signal, dropping a handful of cash on the table before wading through the crowd. As he pushed his way though the amalgam of human and demon, Lorne came into view. A very happy Lorne, by the looks of it. Too bad he was about to ruin Lorne’s moment of triumph.
Gunn brought his hand down on Lorne’s shoulder, startling him. “We gotta go. Work calls.”
“But…”
“No time, Lorne. Someone’s gonna die if we don’t leave now.”
Lorne nodded, the weight of Gunn’s words sinking in. He turned back to the waitress, readying his apology. “I’m so sorry, Denise, but I have to…”
“I heard, sweetie. Go.” Lorne flashed her a quick smile before turning back to Gunn. However, the hand on his forearm brought him back to the woman standing behind him. “Here. Take this.” Lorne extended his hand, Denise placing a slip of paper into his palm. Lorne quickly unraveled it, his eyes falling upon a series of digits. That’s when the smile turned into a full-blown grin. “Call me. I mean it.”
“You got it.”
Gunn smiled at the scene, Lorne turning back to his friend, both walking toward the exit now. “Told you, man.”
Lorne chuckled at his friend, an air of confidence surrounding him. “Who knew I was such a ladies’ man.”
Angel looked over the buttons on the cell phone, looking for the green one that switched off the signal. It had been a little over three years since he first got the phone, and he still didn’t know where the end button was. Technology was way overrated, as far as he was concerned. Once the ‘end’ text came on the LCD screen, Angel pocketed the cell phone, turning his attention back to the group now congregating at the center of the lobby. “Gunn and Lorne are on their way to the hospital. They’ll keep an eye out until we can get there.”
Buffy, somewhat worried by what had just occurred, voiced her concern. “Cordelia, I don’t mean to be rude, but just how accurate are these visions of yours.”
Cordelia politely smiled, realizing that even for a Slayer, the act of seeing into the future could be a bit jarring. “They’re very accurate.”
“If it wasn’t for Cordy, we wouldn’t have saved as many people as we have in the past few years.” Angel looked over to Cordelia, throwing her a slight smile. Cordelia returned it in kind; appreciating the support he was showing her in front of Buffy.
Buffy nodded approval, accepting the truth in Angel’s words. “That’s good enough for me. Let’s go.”
As the group moved toward the lobby doors, the phone rang, Fred stopping in her tracks. “You guys go ahead, I’ll stay and get that.”
Angel nodded, speaking as he continued up the stairs. “Call Gunn. I’d feel better if he was here with you.”
“You and me, both.” Fred picked up the receiver, holding it to her shoulder. “Be careful.”
Spike looked over his shoulder, flashing a slight grin as he spoke. “Always do, pet. Always do.”
With that, the group made their way out of the hotel, Fred bringing the receiver up to her ear. “Angel Investigations.”
Gunn pulled the pickup to the curb, the mental institution in plain view from the cab. Both occupants stepped out onto the street, Lorne voicing his concern. “I don’t know, Charles. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“What? You mean other than the fact that we’re breaking into a mental institution at two in the morning?”
“Yeah. Other than that.”
Gunn exhaled softly, worry starting to permeate his being as well. Lorne was right. Even though it was almost sunup, things definitely weren’t right. The main giveaway was the fact that the streets were deadly silent. That just wasn’t common for the city, let alone L.A. However, now wasn’t the time for worrisome thoughts. They had a job to do. “You’re just imagining things, Lorne. Probably one too many drinks.”
Lorne timidly chuckled, his eyes gazing across the landscape between them and the hospital. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Definitely giving up drinking. Definitely.”
Gunn smiled at his friend, both making their way to the steps of the institution. As they neared the building, a hooded figure emerged from the shadows, walking on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. Both men gave each other an inquiring look, uncertain of what to make of the individual that supposedly appeared from nowhere. However, the man on the sidewalk seemed not to pay them any mind, and just continued on his way past the steps. Gunn voiced his thoughts, speaking to no one in particular. “Weird place for a stroll.”
“Tell me about it.”
Gunn turned to Lorne, noting the look of puzzlement on his face. “Then again, us being here is pretty weird too.”
“That’s true.” As both men reached the base of the stairs, Lorne looked up toward the door, a sigh of trepidation escaping his lips. “Let’s just get this over with so we can go home.”
“Sounds like a plan.” As the two men began to make their way up the stairs, the figure in the distance began to hum. The tune was eerily familiar. Lorne stopped his ascent, the notes to Beethoven’s Ode to Joy filling his ears. Gunn turned back, looking at his companion. “What’s wrong, Lorne?”
As the notes became more prevalent, the humming growing in intensity, Lorne’s countenance changed from one of worry to one of intense fear. With his eyes locked on the hooded figure continuing down the sidewalk, Lorne spoke quickly, fear permeating his every word. “Run.” Gunn looked on in confusion as Lorne’s gaze remained on the hooded figure, enthralled by the melody. Gunn followed suit, his gaze now joining Lorne’s. Both men stood eerily still as the hooded figure slowly turned around, the humming still prevalent as he brought the cloak about his shoulders. His silver hair glittered in the moonlight, a discomfiting smile gracing his face. The humming crescendoed until the individual reached the end of the verse, the smile never leaving his face. Lorne quickly grabbed Gunn by the arm, forcefully pulling him down the steps. “Run!”
Gunn didn’t question Lorne, instead running down the steps and back toward the pickup. He’d learned by now that Lorne was never wrong about people’s intentions once they started singing. Gunn quickly looked back over his shoulder, seeing from the corner of his eye that the silver haired individual remained standing on the sidewalk, his uneasy smile still on his face. The figure made no effort to pursue them. Maybe Lorne was wrong after all.
However, this thought was quickly dispelled as the figure quickly emerged, blocking their way to the pickup. Both men looked up at the figure, breathing hard as the man spoke. “I’m sorry. But I can’t allow you to leave.”
Gunn spoke, his voice hitched slightly by his heavy breathing. “How’d you do that?”
The figure continuing smiling, no hint of aggression on his countenance, as he spoke. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Gunn’s mind continued whirling, still unable to comprehend the fact that a man that was a good twenty feet away had somehow outpaced them and ended up in front of them. Unable to process the information, Gunn asked the next logical question. “What do you want?”
The stranger spoke, his smile never wavering. “What all of us wants. Peace of mind. That’s all.”
Lorne interrupted the stranger’s speech, anger permeating his voice. “And you’ll get that by killing Mr. Tweedy?”
The figure chuckled slightly upon hearing Lorne’s words. “Ahh. I see that your penchant for mind reading is very much working. A pity. Now I have to kill you as well. Wouldn’t bode well for you to go shouting to the nearest person that the sky’s falling.” Gunn looked on in confusion at the individual’s words. However, the confusion was quickly dissipated as the stranger’s hand flew from his side, plunging into Lorne’s chest. Lorne looked up in disbelief, the figure still smiling. “You know. If it weren’t for Mr. Beethoven, I’d say that humanity had no redeeming values at all. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Unfortunately, Lorne didn’t respond. Instead, the weight of his body pulled him off of the stranger’s arm, Lorne’s body collapsing onto the street. Gunn quickly swung his clenched fist at Lorne’s assailant. “You son of a bitch!”
Gunn’s fist never reached its target. Instead, his fist fell square against the stranger’s palm, which quickly closed over the fist like a vice. Gunn screamed out in pain, the audible sound of bone cracking echoing through the silent street. “You’d be surprised how close you are to the truth, young man. But, I have other places to be tonight. So, you’ll forgive me if I don’t chat up a storm and just get on with ending your life.”
Gunn continued to struggle against the stranger’s grip to no avail. Finally, his body stopped fighting, Gunn looking death in the eye. “Who the hell are you?”
“I guess it won’t hurt since you’re about to die.” The figure clenched Gunn by his shirt, lifting him up effortlessly. “My name is Dante. I hope you can die with a clear conscience now.” Before Gunn could reply, Dante pulled Gunn over his shoulder and propelled him through the air as though he was a football. Gunn’s gaze never left the stranger as he lifted up into the air, the figure growing smaller, that sardonic smile still on his face. That was the last thing Gunn saw before his body embossed itself into the brick wall of the building behind him, Gunn’s unconscious body falling back to the ground with a sickening, dull thud. “That was slightly enjoyable.”
Dante turned his gaze back toward the mental institution, Ode to Joy once again floating through the street as he walked over Lorne’s huddled body and up the steps of the building.
Fred quickly scribbled down the address of the caller, reassuring the woman on the other end that someone would be over in the morning to examine her house. It was a simple haunting. Nothing that couldn’t wait till morning. After all, most of the hauntings they’d seen had been nothing more than an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend just playing a prank on their victims just out of spite. Childish, really.
She quickly placed the receiver into the cradle and brought it up to her ear once again, pressing the numbers that corresponded to Gunn’s cell phone. Upon pressing the last number, the tone changed from open to ringing. Unfortunately, the tone never stopped ringing, voice mail ultimately answering, causing Fred to think the worst. Gunn always carried his cell and rarely let the voice mail pick up. Something was wrong. There was no other explanation.
Fred closed the signal, allowing the open tone to emanate through the earpiece before dialing once again. This time, the ringing ceased, a voice coming through from the other side. “Angel.”
“Angel, Charles isn’t answering his phone.”
“Are you sure, Fred?”
Fred sighed in frustration, the worry beginning to grow inside her. “Of course I’m sure, Angel. He’s not picking up. Something’s wrong.”
“Keep trying. We’re almost at the hospital.”
Fred was about to speak but Cordelia’s voice came through the phone, a hint of panic in her voice. “Isn’t that Gunn’s truck?”
Angel’s voice chimed in, voicing the affirmative. “Yeah. But where are…oh, God…” Fred listened intently, the silence beginning to tear her up. Finally, the silence broke, Angel’s voice once again filling the void. “Fred, call 911. Now.”
“What’s wrong, Angel?!?”
She could hear Angel exhale deeply on the other end. “It’s…it’s bad, Fred. Call them. We’re at…”
“I know where you are. I’m on it.” Fred quickly hung up the phone once again, dialing the numbers as quickly as her fingers would allow.
“Hello. 911. What is your emergency?”
Angel parked the car behind the pickup, the occupants pouring out into the street. Angel ran over to Lorne, wondering where Gunn could have gone off? Cordelia and Buffy followed suit, Spike’s gaze combing the area for anything suspicious. As Angel turned Lorne over onto his back, Cordelia gasped at the sight, Buffy slowly closing her eyes in sorrow. Not even an hour had gone by and someone had died. Someone close to Angel.
“Where’s…where’s Charles?”
Buffy’s eyes flew open, somewhat in awe at the green skinned individual who was moving slightly, his speech slurred. “How…?”
Cordelia filled in the blank. “He’s a quick healer.” Cordelia looked down at Lorne, a gentle smile on her face as she spoke. “Aren’t you, Lorne?”
“You know it.” Lorne winced as he tried to move his body, the gaping hole in his chest preventing him otherwise. “God, this hurts.”
Angel gently placed his hand on Lorne’s chest, trying to steady his body spasm. “Who did this, Lorne?”
“Don’t…don’t know. But he’s inside. He’s gonna…” Before he could finish his statement, coughing wracked Lorne’s body, the pain unbearable for him to withstand.
Angel nodded understanding, pulling his coat off and wadding it up into a makeshift pillow. He gently lifted up Lorne’s head, placing the coat underneath him, hoping that it somehow alleviated the pain. “It’s okay, Lorne. We’ll fix you up.”
“Yeah. Don’t know why this hurts so much. I’ve…I’ve been cut into pieces without any pain.”
Angel nodded, Cordelia near the point of tears. Suddenly, Spike’s voice got their attention. “Oi! Got a man down, here.”
Angel turned back to Cordelia, Buffy already making her way over to Spike. “Stay with him.” Cordelia nodded as she kneeled down next to Lorne, coughing still emanating from his lips. Cordelia gently squeezed his hand, not know what else to do.
As Buffy made her way around the pickup, she could see Spike kneeling next to the person that was undoubtedly Charles Gunn. From the look of it, he’d been broken into a million pieces, blood seeping from the back of his head. Buffy knelt next to Spike, worry tinting her voice. “What could have done this?”
Spike looked upward, Buffy confused at the motion. “Whatever it was, damn near threw him through the sodding wall.” Buffy followed Spike’s gaze, her eyes falling upon the impression left by Gunn’s body.
“Oh, my God.”
Spike sighed under his breath, pressing his jacket against Gunn’s cut, trying to retard the flow of blood rushing out of his body. “Doubt if God had anything to do with this, luv. Even he’s not that bitter.”
Buffy nodded, although not entirely agreeing with Spike’s words. After all, what God would have allowed her friends to bring her back to life when she was rightfully done? God had a weird sense of humor. That much was positive. Before Buffy could let her mind wander, Angel’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Gunn.”
“He’s alive, mate. But I don’t know for how much longer.”
Angel gave Spike a puzzled look, not comprehending the fact that Spike was showing concern for someone other than himself. However, as he began to speak, the shrill sound of sirens began to come over the horizon. “We’ve got to get inside. The paramedics will take care of Gunn.”
Buffy spoke, her question valid. “What about your green friend? Do paramedics take care of demons here as well?”
Angel nodded. She had a point. “I’ll move him in the back seat. You two get inside. I’ll be right behind you.”
Spike voiced his concern for the current plan. “Wait. We have no idea who we’re looking for.”
“Cordy’ll show you. Now go.”
Spike nodded, both he and Buffy moving toward Cordelia. Angel looked on as Cordelia nodded before reluctantly leaving Lorne’s side. She turned to Angel, Angel nodding at her. With that, the three individuals made their way up the steps, Angel quickly moving toward Lorne, the sirens growing louder in the distance.
Jack Tweedy lay in his bed, sleep escaping him once again. How could he sleep? Not with the information rolling around in his head. After all, how could one possibly sleep when they had foreseen their own death? Sleep wasn’t important. Not when it would become eternal in a few minutes.
Instead, Jack Tweedy just remained motionless; his eyes transfixed on the ceiling, counting the number of popcorn pieces that fell into his field of vision. It was the only thing he could do since the orderlies had taken it upon themselves to secure Jack to his bed with straps that not even Houdini could have broken.
A sudden noise from the hallway got Jack’s attention. Jack slowly turned his head to the clock on the nightstand. The red digits flashed 2:36 AM at him. Almost time. Jack took a deep breath, readying himself for what was about to come. Even though he would be glad to finally stop seeing the images that irrevocably flooded his every thought, there was still a part of him that didn’t want to die. After all, what person rightfully accepted death?
Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Even though his eyes were now closed, he could see through his eyelids that light had begun to pour into the room. A blinding, blue light that made him feel calm yet nervous all at once. Jack finally exhaled, opening his eyes. It took a while before his eyes finally focused on the figure now standing over him, the light creating a harsh glare.
“Do you know who I am?” Jack nodded solemnly, making no effort to speak. “You know why I’m here. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“You know why I have to do what comes next, don’t you?”
Jack spoke, a hint of arrogance in his voice. “Because I know too much. Because I know your secret.”
Dante sighed, his hand now on Jack Tweedy’s forehead. Jack could feel the warmth emanating from the individual, feeling somewhat comforted at his touch. “I’m sorry she did this to you. She was careless.” Dante gently caressed Jack’s cheek with his other hand, his voice calm yet sincere. “I promise, it won’t hurt.”
Jack looked up; wanting to make sure he saw the look in the man’s face before the end came. “Since we’re both being honest, you should know that you’re not going to succeed. I’ve seen it.”
Dante smiled, no hint of aggression in his voice as he spoke. “You’ve seen but pieces. But, they are vital pieces nonetheless. In the end, mankind will get what they rightfully deserve.” With that, Dante removed his hand from Jack’s cheek, his other hand now firmly cupped against Jack’s forehead. “Close your eyes.”
“No. I want to see the end.”
“Very well. As you wish.” With that, Jack looked deeply into Dante’s eyes, the bright light enveloping the room.
Cordelia stayed in front of Buffy and Spike, her eyes falling on the wall markers to make sure she was moving in the right direction. She shouldn’t have doubted herself because at that moment, a bright glow filled the hallway, forcing all three to shield their eyes from the harsh light. Once the light subsided, the group looked down the hall, Spike voicing the obvious. “Guess we’re on the right track.”
Buffy nodded, moving ahead of Cordelia. “Let’s just hope we’re not too late.”
Spike nodded, tapping Cordelia on the shoulder to shake her out of her trance. “Let’s go, pet.”
“Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”
Spike looked at her, a hint of concern on his face. “You sure?”
Cordelia gently smiled as she spoke. “Yeah. Go. I’ll wait for Angel.” Spike nodded understanding before following after Buffy. As soon as Spike vanished around the corner, Cordelia slumped against the wall, her legs barely able to hold her up. Whatever that light was, it had sapped most of the strength from her body. The last thought that went through Cordelia’s mind was why were Buffy and Spike unaffected by the light. Unfortunately, she couldn’t come up with a reason because she slipped from consciousness, her body slumping against the side of the wall.
“Where’s Cordelia?”
Spike ran up next to Buffy’s side, his gaze never leaving the hallway. “Said she was going to wait for Angel.”
Buffy nodded, both making their way toward the ominous glow that was now quickly receding down the hallway. As they continued on, they eventually came across a door, light pouring from the outer edges of the doorframe. Buffy looked at Spike, his body tensed. “Ready?”
“Like you have to ask.” With that, Spike reared his leg back and lunged forward, the impact of his foot on the door sending it flying across the room.
Without hesitation, Buffy rushed into the room, Spike following close behind. As they settled into the room, the only thing they saw was a man lying in his bed, no evidence of anyone else ever being in the room. Buffy walked over to the bed cautiously, noticing that the person lay motionless. She placed her index and middle finger against the man’s carotid artery, her fear becoming reality. “We’re too late.”
Spike walked up to Buffy, his arms wrapping about her shoulders. Buffy rested her head against his chest, tears threatening to escape. “I know it hurts, pet.”
Buffy solemnly nodded before moving out of Spike’s embrace. “I’ll go get Cordelia. You look after him.”
Spike gently smiled at Buffy, Buffy returning it before turning toward the now devastated door. However, before Buffy could walk out into the hallway, Spike’s gasp got her attention. Buffy quickly turned around to see Mr. Tweedy’s hand now gripping Spike’s forearm followed by a bright burst of light. Buffy found herself once again shielding her eyes, this time the event accompanied by the screams of both men as the light flooded the room.
Angel moved down the hallway, still feeling uneasy at the sight of strewn bodies in the reception area of the hospital. While they weren’t dead, they were definitely unconscious. That much was evident by the shallow breathing the receptionist and two orderlies displayed. The thing that bothered Angel was that there was no evidence of physical harm on the bodies. Just three unconscious bodies. What could do something like that?
Unfortunately, when Angel rounded the corner of the corridor, his eyes falling on an unconscious Cordelia, his thoughts about the other bodies fell to the wayside. Angel quickly rushed over to Cordelia’s side, gathering her up in his arms. “Cordy? Cordy?”
He gently patted her cheek, trying to get her to open her eyes. The sudden movement must have affected Cordelia, because her eyes slowly opened, Angel filling her vision. “What…what happened?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Angel gently brushed an errant strand of hair from Cordelia’s forehead, continuing. “Where’re Buffy and Spike?”
“They went ahead. Didn’t want to slow them down.”
Angel gently smiled at Cordelia, his gaze shifting between her and the hallway. “I’m going to see what they’re up to. You’ll be okay by yourself?” Cordelia gingerly tilted her head, unable to fully nod affirmative. Angel chuckled softly as he spoke. “I’m going to lay you down, okay?”
Another half completed head tilt was all the indication Angel received. However, as he started to lay Cordelia onto the floor, her hand flew up to his chest, gripping his shirt tightly. Her body began to spasm as she began to scream. As Angel tried to comfort the woman in his arms, he could have sworn that he heard Spike bellow out at the same time, his screams matching those of Cordelia’s. However, Spike was the least of his worries. The woman in his arms was.
Unsure of what to do, Angel pulled her closer to him, hugging her against his chest to lessen her spasms. The last thing he expected was for her to speak. But that she did. And the words bothered him to no end as Cordelia continued to spasm in his arms. “World on fire! World on fire! World on fire!” Over and over, the phrase emanated from Cordelia’s lips. All Angel could do was hold on as tight as he could and not let go.
“Spike!”
Buffy tried to look into the light, but her reflexes prevented her from doing otherwise. The light was too intense for human eyes to look into. So, she just stood there, calling out to Spike, waiting to hear anything from him other than his screams of pain.
As Buffy tried to inch her way closer to Spike’s location, she tripped and fell over what was undoubtedly a footstool. Either that or an empty bedpan. At least she hoped it was an empty bedpan. Because she really didn’t want to imagine what could possibly be on her right about now. While Buffy began to push herself off the floor, she realized that the screams were beginning to subside as well as the intensity of the light. She looked up, her eyes shifting from a squint to a gaze as an outline of Spike became visible.
Suddenly, the light vanished, leaving Spike next to Mr. Tweedy, both men obviously affected by the ordeal. Buffy quickly leapt to her feet, moving over to Spike’s side to assess if any damage had befallen him. “Spike?”
He remained silent, his gaze still fixed on Mr. Tweedy, the bed-ridden individual’s breaths coming faster now. “Now you know what I know.” With that, Jack Tweedy’s fingers fell from Spike’s forearm, his arm falling off the side of the bed. Spike slowly reached for the man’s arm, carefully placing it over his chest. Then, he slowly moved his hand over Jack Tweedy’s eyes, closing them forever.
“Spike?” He slowly turned to Buffy, trying to speak but finding himself unable to. Instead, he moved to the side of the bed and slouched down in the nearby chair. Buffy’s trepidation began to get the better of her, her voice becoming more intense. “Honey, what is it?”
Spike kept his eyes on the ground as he spoke, his hands cupping his knees. “Give us a minute, luv. Need to recuperate some.”
Buffy nodded slightly, moving over to Spike’s side, her hand gently cupping his shoulder. “Take all the time you need.”
Spike made no motion. Instead, he quietly sat in the chair, his gaze now on Jack Tweedy. Buffy could only wonder what was going through Spike’s mind right now. But, the way he was looking at the now deceased individual made Buffy very uncomfortable. It was almost as if Spike was envious of the fact that Mr. Tweedy was the one that died and not himself. And what did the man’s last words mean? What did Spike know now?
Before Buffy could contemplate these questions, Spike rose from the chair, looking down at Buffy. “We should go before the authorities get here.”
“Okay.” Buffy had questions but she knew better than to ask them now. Something intense had just occurred to Spike. Something he needed time to come to terms with. That much was certain from the tone of his voice. Gone was the jubilance and light-heartedness. All that remained was a tone of deadly seriousness. As the two moved out of the room, Spike quickly looked back at the body of Mr. Jack Tweedy, his voice wavering as he spoke. “I hope you’re wrong, mate. God, please be wrong.” With that, he walked past Buffy. All she could do at the moment was wonder about what Spike had meant by his words.
Cordelia awoke, her eyes flying open as her body lunged forward. “Angel!”
A hand gently fell on her back, Cordelia’s gaze falling onto Angel, sitting next to her. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”
Cordelia looked around, her current surroundings puzzling her. “When did we get back…?”
“’Bout an hour ago. You lost consciousness again when you starting screaming.”
“Screaming?”
Angel looked over Cordelia’s face, realizing that she had no idea what he was talking about. “How much do you remember, Cordy?”
Cordelia placed her hand on her forehead, clutching it as though she was trying to force the memories to the surface but couldn’t. “I remember a bright light and then nothing. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just rest. We’ll figure this all out later.” As the two friends allowed the silence to fill the room, Angel gently wrapped his hand about Cordelia’s. She squeezed back, thankful that he was by her side. At that moment, the door to the office swung open, Buffy standing in the doorframe.
“Hope you like soup. It’s all I could find.”
Cordelia quickly released Angel’s hand, awkwardly smiling as she spoke. “Tell me about it. One of the perks of working for a vampire. A lifetime diet regimen.”
Buffy smirked at the witticism, Angel stumbling for a defense. “I don’t eat. So sue me.”
“Spike eats.”
Angel glared at Buffy, almost flabbergasted that she was comparing Spike to him. “Well, Spike does a lot of things I don’t. Like not giving a damn.”
Cordelia interrupted the inevitable argument that was about to erupt, throwing her two cents into the fray. “Well, he seemed to care enough to stop Gunn’s bleeding and to check if I was okay back in the hospital.”
“Oh, God. Not you too. What is it with Spike and women?”
Cordelia answered quickly, wanting to gauge Angel’s reaction. “Well, he does have those deep blue eyes that do things to you whenever you look into them.” Buffy didn’t mean to laugh, but Cordelia was right. Buffy couldn’t not remember a time when she hadn’t lost herself in those deep blue pools. Angel sighed in frustration, Cordelia deciding to leave him alone for a moment to get back to the present. “Is Gunn okay?”
Buffy answered. “We’re not sure yet. Fred left a note saying she was going to the hospital. Said she’d call once she found out more information.”
“Oh. Okay. And Lorne?”
Angel fielded this question. “He’s upstairs. He’s sleeping but the wound’s regenerating. That’s a good sign, at least.” Cordelia nodded, images of Lorne in pain flooding into her mind once again. She quickly closed her eyes, wishing for the images to disappear. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just a headache.”
Buffy placed the soup on the desk as she spoke. “Do you want some aspirin?”
“It’s okay. I’m used to them.” Buffy accepted Cordelia’s request and left it alone. As Cordelia’s eyes gazed the room, she realized that there was still one person unaccounted for. “Where’s Spike?”
The voice came from the lobby. “Out here, pet.” Cordelia looked out into the lobby, Spike’s figure moving into the frame of the door as he walked toward the office. “Just thought you could use some space, is all.”
Cordelia nodded, Spike now leaning against the doorframe. Angel interrupted the scene, uneasy with the look that Cordelia was giving Spike. “So, what exactly do you remember, Cordelia?”
Cordelia furrowed her brow, her gaze not falling on anything in particular. After a moment of silence, she spoke. “I’m not sure. Something about fire. I think there was fire.”
Angel reaffirmed her memory. “That’s right. You kept on shouting…”
Before Angel could complete his sentence, Spike broke in. “…the world’s on fire.”
Buffy quickly turned her gaze to Spike, Angel and Cordelia following. Spike just stood there in the doorframe, a look of comprehension and acceptance now on his face. Cordelia spoke, a hint of confusion in her voice. “How’d you know that?”
Angel seconded Cordelia’s concern. “Yeah. You weren’t even with us when Cordy’s seizure started.”
Spike looked at Buffy, seeing that she was now worried about what was now transpiring in the office. “I can see it in my head. It was what that Tweedy chap had in his head.” The three onlookers remained silent as Spike continued his narrative. “Somehow, with his dying breath, he gave me his thoughts. Of what’s to come.”
Buffy spoke, concern lacing her every word. “And what’s that?”
Spike’s gaze never left Buffy’s as he answered her question, his voice never wavering. “The end of the world.”
Connor didn’t know Dante had arrived until the man spoke. “Hello, young ward.”
Connor quickly pounced from his seat, quickly moving into a defensive stance. “How’d you sneak up on me? I didn’t even hear you.”
“Answers will come all in good time, Connor. For now, we need to focus on the present.” Connor moved the bag from his side, holding it close to his body as Dante looked on. “Are those the items?”
Connor nodded, questioning Dante once again. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here for over two hours.”
“I apologize. I had some loose ends that needed to be taken care of. I hope you can forgive my tardiness.”
The young half-breed remained silent, extending the bag out to his partner. “What do you need these things for, anyway? They’re not even remotely related.”
Connor would have sworn that Dante had laughed, but in all the time he had known the silver haired stranger, laughter was not his forte. But smiling. That was a different story. He always had that relaxed, undermining smile on his face, as though he knew something that no one else knew. And because of that, he was better than everyone else. But, that was just Connor’s interpretation. “These items are vital.” Dante leisurely grabbed the bag from Connor’s hand, pouring the contents onto the floor.
At Dante’s feet lay odd trinkets that would be more at home on a young girl’s dresser, not a museum. But looks could be deceiving. Holtz had told Connor of these relics, and the power inherent in each of them. But as far as he knew, they didn’t work in conjunction. “The Eye of Odin, the Ring of Jihrah, and the Anklet of Semandoah. All as you requested.”
“Indeed. Job well done, young Connor.” Before Connor could comprehend what was happening, Dante’s foot came crashing down on the three artifacts, crushing them into powder upon impact.
“What did you do that for?” Dante didn’t answer Connor’s query. Instead, he stood still, allowing the now airborne particles to congregate until they swirled about the two of them. At first, Connor didn’t realize that anything was amiss. That was until the drive-in began to flicker in and out, another location threatening to replace their surroundings. “What…what’s happening?”
Dante’s voice reverberated through Connor’s skull once again. Connor was sure of it because Dante’s lips never moved as his voice echoed in his head. “A glimpse at our next move.”
Connor’s eyes moved quickly from Dante to the swirl now completely engulfing them. As his eyes focused on the particulate wall surrounding them, the drive-in disappeared from his sight, finally being replace by a…a living room?
“Dawn. You should really go to bed.”
“But, Buffy’s not here. This might be the only time I get to stay up for the late movie, Tara.”
Connor couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. That, and the fact he was out in the open led Connor to the inexplicable conclusion that he needed to hide. As he dove for the base of the stairs, his leg slammed against some invisible object, causing him to grab it in pain. As he lay on the ground, Dante spoke, no hint of concern in his voice for the young man now writhing in pain. “Even though it looks like we’re in a living domicile, we are still in the drive-in. You’d do well to remember that.”
Connor looked up at Dante, making his way back up to his feet, gingerly avoiding putting pressure on his bruised leg. “Why are we here?”
“We’re looking for a sign.”
Connor slowly made his way over to Dante’s side, still bothered by the sudden change in scenery. It felt almost voyeuristic, spying on these young women. People Connor had no knowledge of, no less. As they quietly observed, Willow walked into the living room, a bowl of popcorn in her hand.
“Who’s ready for Creature from the Deep?”
Tara groaned in defeat as she voiced her concern. “Sweetie. I really think Dawn should go to bed.”
“Why? So Dawnie’s a little tired for homeroom tomorrow. How often does one get to see Creature from the Deep at two in the morning?”
Dawn chimed in her approval. “Yeah. This is, like, monumental. And other similar words.”
Tara sighed, conceding defeat. “Fine, fine. You better hope Buffy doesn’t find out about this. She’s bound to whip our butts into a nice puree if she ever finds out.”
Willow and Dawn chuckled, Willow trying to assuage Tara’s fears. “Well, she’s not going to find out unless one of us tells her. Are you gonna tell her, Dawnie?”
“Nope.”
“And you, Tara?”
Tara shrugged her shoulders, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl. “Creature of the Deep it is.”
As Willow settled into Tara’s side, Dawn lying on the carpet, Connor couldn’t help but wonder if any of this had a purpose. As far as he could tell, they seemed like three ordinary women. However, before he had a chance to state his belief, Dawn spoke, her countenance changing from one of glee to one of curiosity. “Did you guys feel that?”
Tara sat up, looking down at Dawn on the carpet. “Feel what, sweetie?”
“I don’t know. It feels like we’re not alone.”
“I’m sure it’s just the jitters. Maybe you shouldn’t watch this movie, after all.”
As Dawn was about to agree with Tara, Willow chimed in, her voice filled with unease. “No, I think Dawn’s right. I definitely feel something.”
Before Connor realized it, Dante had left his side, walking towards what looked like the kitchen. As Dante continued walking, the surrounding walls flickering around him to reveal the drive-in once again, Connor called out after him, trying to keep up as best as he could. “Why are we leaving? I thought we were waiting for a sign.”
Dante never turned back as he spoke, the Summers’ residence falling to the wayside. “And we just got it.”