•••

“So what’s the game plan, oh fearless leader?” Xander asked as he flopped down on the bed next to Oz. The eight investigators-in-exile were gathered in one of their hotel rooms, at the request of Angel. He’d waited until he was sure all of the werewolves were recovered from the full moon before trying to organize the group.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Angel started slowly. At Wil’s reassuring nod, he continued. “It’s too close to Los Angeles. People will eventually recognize us.”

“We’ve been lucky, haven’t we?” Fred asked quietly.

“Very,” Angel agreed. “But just moving won’t work—not forever.”

“We aren’t running,” Gunn said flatly. “At least, I’m not.”

“I’m not saying we should,” Angel shot back. “We just need to go somewhere else.”

“And do what?” Cordelia asked. “Wait for me and Xander to have more visions to e-mail to Buffy?”

Angel sighed. “For now? Yes, that’s exactly what we should do.” He closed his eyes briefly, trying to muster some strength. “Disappearing is the best thing we can do now—it will give us an opportunity to go up against Wolfram & Hart.”

Gunn cocked an eyebrow speculatively. “You know you’re gonna have to explain that, because I really don’t follow.”

“See, the last approach we took didn’t work,” Angel explained. “We tried to be low-key, to not attack directly. What did it get us?”

“So this is better?” Gunn snapped. Cordelia frowned at him and shook her head warningly.

“They think we’re dead,” Angel reminded the new werewolf. “Now we can go after all the other parts of the firm—those scholarships, partnerships, and subsidiaries that Cordelia dug up.”

“While we’re on the run?” Xander asked. “How?”

“We settle down somewhere for a while, don’t play the superhero, and attack,” Wil replied. “Not every city has the concentration of supernatural crap that Sunnydale, Los Angeles and London have. We move into some nowhere town and start to dismantle their network, piece by piece.”

“It would take a long time. Not days, or weeks. We’re looking at years,” Angel warned. “But it would work—think about it. If we undermine their recruiting procedures, they’re going to have problems filling their ranks. Considering how many of their lawyers they let die off…”

“Why didn’t we just do this the first time?” Cordelia asked. “When we found this stuff out?”

“Because back then we had lives,” Fred snapped. “We thought that just instigating the rift between the Watchers’ Council and Wolfram & Hart would keep us out of the line of fire.”

“But it didn’t,” Angel added. “Now there’s nothing to protect. Even now the last ties between us and Buffy—and Dawn and Willow—are being severed. They’re changing the name of the office, and Lorne’s taken over the hotel. We don’t exist any more.”

“And if they do track us down, we just move,” Xander murmured. “It sounds far-fetched, if you ask me. I mean, we don’t have that many resources. Money will be tight.”

“We’ll have to get jobs,” Wil agreed. “But then again, we’ll be living frugally.”

“And still sending all our visions to Buffy?” Cordelia inquired.

“Unless The Powers see fit to shift their focus,” Angel said.

“They didn’t bother when we were in London,” Xander muttered. “Probably make us keep seeing UCLA students running around like idiots.”

“Well?” Angel asked the group. “If there are other ideas, speak them now. We have to do something.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Gunn began slowly. “But I also don’t see any other options. We’re dead—legally dead… well, those of us who were alive to begin with. Cordy, Fred, Xander, Oz, Wes and I have had funerals. We don’t exist anymore.”

“We can take care of that,” Angel replied.

“Do you really think we can take them down?” Fred asked Angel.

“Eventually, yes,” Angel said. “It might be a long time down the road. But if we get them weak enough, Buffy won’t have to deal with as much of their power plays.”

“And one day we can come back and finish them off?” Xander inquired. “What if someone else tries to fill the void?”

“We can’t worry about that,” Wil said sharply. “We’re not trying to bleach out all the evil in the world. As Wolfram & Hart crumble, other groups *will* come in to take their place. What we’re hoping is that those groups will be smaller, more specialized.”

“What they should be in the first place,” Angel continued. “It’s unreasonable to think that there will never be organized groups out there. But it’s one thing to fight against a Master vampire, or a well-established clan of demons. They aren’t the same as Wolfram & Hart.”

“And those other groups help us, in a way,” Wil added. “No, they’re not good, but they do a great job of internal control.”

“Which is what is needed anyway,” Angel finished. “In a lot of ways, what Wolfram & Hart is doing is like the Hellmouth. In any other city, in any other time, the Slayer would be focused on the few vampires and demons that were uncontrolled.”

“Like you and Spike were way back when,” Fred interjected.

“Yes. But on the Hellmouth, she’s had to fight nonstop, all the time, because there was too much evil concentrated there,” Angel explained.

“So getting rid of Wolfram & Hart is like closing up the Hellmouth?” Xander asked. “I can get behind that.”

“But the gradual way is better—it will let those other groups build up their own presence, keeping all hell from breaking loose,” Wil said.

“It’s worth a try,” Oz murmured.

“I agree,” Xander said. “We should give it a shot.”

“I’m in,” Cordelia added.

“Me too,” Fred stated.

“As am I,” Wesley murmured.

“Yeah, fine,” Gunn muttered.

“Then we leave in the morning,” Angel said.

“Where are we going?” Xander asked. “For our first stop on the road trip of redemption?”

“Very funny,” Angel growled. “And we’re leaving tomorrow for…” He looked down at the paper Wil handed him. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Wil looked up earnestly. “No, I’m not kidding. It’s the perfect place to start off. Compared to where we’ve been lately, it’s downright serene.”

Angel shook his head sadly. There was no way he was going to be able to sell this. “Xander, you and Gunn have the first shifts driving.”

“Where?” Xander demanded. “Tell me, Angel.”

The dark vampire cringed. “Indianapolis.”

Wil swore he heard water trickling down a drain in western China. “As in the middle of nowhere, Indiana?” Cordelia hissed. “You want us to fight the world’s greatest evil from bumfuck nowhere?”

“It’s not nowhere,” Wil defended. “Quite a nice-sized town, all things considered. Actually, it’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” Gunn repeated slowly. “Perfect?”

“There’s nothing the least bit…well, look—it’s just that there’s nothing to draw anyone’s attention to Indianapolis,” Wil tried to explain. “Other than that car race.”

“And some museums,” Oz added helpfully. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’ve been there?” Xander asked incredulously.

“Briefly. I’ve been to worse.”

“Where?” The Raphe pressed.

“Lodi.”

“Point,” Xander replied. “There is worse.”

“Please, please tell me that we do get to go somewhere at least marginally cool—eventually?” Cordelia pleaded.

Angel smiled slightly. “After we see how things go in Indianapolis, we’ll decide where to go from there. But yeah, it can be somewhere more…”

“Palatable?” Wil tried.

“Good enough,” Angel answered.

•••

“Hey, gorgeous! Guess what?” Lorne said as he waltzed into her office. “The new signs just arrived!” He brandished a stack of signage for the investigative firm. “Out with the old, in with ‘Eos Investigative Services’!”

“They’re gone,” Buffy murmured, staring at the computer screen. Lorne saw her distress and set the signs aside. He walked around the desk and read over her shoulder.

“So they started… whatever it is they’re doing,” Lorne said, mostly to himself. “No clue about where they’re going?”

“No,” Buffy replied. “And Cordy’s set the e-mails to self-destruct. Right about now, actually.” As if on cue, the e-mail disappeared. “They’ll keep sending visions, but not much else.”

“That’s it?” Lorne said sharply. “No other help?”

“I gathered that whatever they’re planning is best left to them,” Buffy replied. “I slay, they. . . do whatever.”

Lorne huffed. “If you say so. I just hope they know what they’re doing.”

Buffy looked up with worried eyes. “They do. I just don’t know that I’m ready to have all this for so long.”

“So long?” Lorne echoed.

“They’re not coming back for a long time. A very long time. Years,” Buffy explained. “Long enough that Angel told me how to access some money for Dawn’s college education. And graduate school.”

“Oh.” Lorne fell silent. That was a long time. “I’m sure it’ll—“

“Work out?” Buffy said harshly. “It will. I just hope I’m around to see it. I mean, by that time, Faith will be out of prison and I should be dead. Slayers don’t live this long.”

“You won’t be alone,” Lorne reassured her. “Dawn, Willow and I are here.” He thought for a minute. “And if that Council of yours really is cleaning itself up, they may be able to lend a hand.”

“Maybe, but I’m not putting any money on it,” Buffy said. “Could you do something for me, Lorne?”

“Anything, sugar,” He said quickly.

“Could you keep those lookouts on the Hellmouth for a while?” Buffy asked. Yeah, Riley and his wife and that troop of muscle-bound idiots had kept things in line for now, but that meant nothing over the long haul.

“Of course,” He promised. “Now, may I interest you in a drink, and perhaps an evening’s entertainment?”

Buffy grinned. “Sure. Nothing like watching demons make fools of themselves to cheer you up.”

“Very true. If you’ll fetch Willow and that sister of yours, I shall arrange a table near the front,” Lorne said as he rushed out to open the club.

•••

“Oz, you got the directions?” Xander murmured sleepily as he poured himself into the driver’s seat. He and the werewolf were in the front of the two-car caravan, packed and ready to head off for parts unknown. In the back of the exceedingly anonymous Ford Taurus were two groggy vampires, piled under a bunch of blankets. Some wrinkled clothes had been piled on top to make the seat look more like the work of a couple of lazy college students and less like two corpses hiding under a tarp.

“Yup. I-8, east, for a damned long time,” The green-haired wolf said.

“Does Gunn have the directions too?” Xander asked.

“Yeah, he does,” Gunn said from just outside the window. “We’ll be right behind you, but we need to stop for coffee.”

“No problem,” Xander replied. “Will stop for food and coffee on the way out of town.”

Before long they were leaving San Diego behind, making good time on the interstate. Oz kept Xander awake with his unique form of sort-of conversation, done in a quiet enough voice that Wil and Angel could get some sleep. The two vampires were going to be doing all the night driving, which meant they needed all the rest they could get.

•••

“Where the hell are we?” Cordelia grumbled as she staggered out of the car.

“Tucumcari,” Xander replied. “Home of toilets and caffeine.”

“And road kill,” Oz added. “But mostly coffee.”

“How long have we been on the road?” Gunn asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Fifteen hours, give or take a few,” Xander said. “Time to hand the keys over to Deadboy and Blondie.”

“You’re going inside, right?” Wil muttered as he stretched. The back seats of cars weren’t very comfortable. “Heat us up something to eat?”

Xander grimaced but nodded. He and Fred poured several pints of blood into big thermal coffee mugs and went into the truck stop, hoping that the smell of warm blood didn’t arouse any suspicions. For that matter, they hoped that no one asked why they had so many mugs… The truckers scared him. A lot. They were hairy in ways he didn’t want to think about, not in the way that Oz was and wasn’t hairy. Smooth most places, most of the time, all over hairy with a vengeance some of the time, no in between. These things were stringy-greasy hairy, like they wanted to be werewolves (or maybe even a faun) but didn’t have the knackers to get bit.

“Xander, can we leave? I don’t think they like you staring like that,” Fred whispered to the Raphe. “Please?”

Xander shook himself out of his daze and nodded. Had he been thinking about truckers? “I need to lay off the coffee. Big time,” He said, even as he carried several mugs to the counter. Once he got there he decided that it was better to just pay for the blood as though it was coffee than try to convince ‘Tolene’ that it wasn’t the truck stop’s coffee.

When he and Fred got back outside, they found the others rested and ready to go. He and Oz took one back seat, while Cordelia and Fred got the other. Wesley and Fred split up to ride with Angel and Wil, respectively, since they hadn’t driven or kept a driver awake during the first leg of the trip.

“We’ll take over again when you guys reach I-44,” Gunn said as they got ready to leave. “That should be somewhere around sunrise.”

“Fine,” Angel murmured as he started the engine.

“Fred, could you hand me that mug?” Wil asked a few minutes later. He was following Angel down the interstate, doing about sixty, being passed right and left. As soon as the tractor-trailer beside him went on ahead, he was passing his bloody Sire and taking the lead.

“Here. Why is Angel driving so slow?” Fred inquired as she handed Wil the blood. “He’s usually better than this.”

“Wesley must be telling him a story. He’s probably asleep,” Wil replied, sipping his blood.

“That’s mean,” Fred shot back, frowning. “I’m going to call them.” She dialed Wesley’s cell phone. “Wes? Um… Why is Angel driving so slowly?”

Wil watched with a grin as Fred began to grimace and blush. After a moment, she ended the call, just as Angel began to speed up.”

“What was it?” Wil asked evilly.

“Nothing,” Fred replied shortly. “Nothing at all.”

“He was telling a story, wasn’t he?” Wil pressed. “An excruciatingly boring one—the one about his Latin teacher maybe?”

“You’ve heard that one too?” Fred mumbled. “Actually, he was explaining the /Matrix Murinus/ to Angel.”

“Bloody hell, we’re lucky he hasn’t wrecked the car,” Wil spat. “That thing could kill, it’s so damned boring.”

“I’m fairly sure it’s marketed as a torture device,” Fred conceded. “But then again, you haven’t listened to Wesley drool and pant over the thing for days on end.”

“Sounds kinky,” Wil replied.

“Could you two not talk about Wesley’s kinks?” Xander whined from the back seat.

“What? It’s keeping me awake!” Wil returned indignantly.

“The fact that Xander’s ball gag is in the trunk would keep you awake too,” Fred offered, wanting to turn the topic away from Wesley.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Xander muttered happily.

“No,” Wil ordered. “Absolutely not.”

“But—“

“Xander, I may have a soul, but I do not have a chip anymore, and I will hurt you. Badly. In ways that will render the ball gag unnecessary for a very long time,” Wil threatened.

Xander gulped audibly and settled back down for a night’s sleep. “Spoil sport.”