The steering wheel slipped and slid in my hands as I stared into the darkness ahead of the car, my eyes burning from lack of sleep.

The tires skidded slightly on the road, but I corrected the car's motion with a sharp twist. Neither of my companions commented on the fact that I was driving far too fast on a wet road, in appalling visibility, with no one wearing seat belts.

I think we all just wanted to get to our destination as fast as possible. Get it over with.

Clouds hung thick and dark on the horizon - the only way we'd known the sun had risen that morning was when my alarm clock had gone off. The rain had been falling last night, when we angrily went to sleep - to try to sleep. The rain had been falling when we awoke, and had kept falling throughout the morning, while Faith and Wesley ran around dismantling the pieces of my apartment that had become theirs and packing them away in suitcases. The rain was still falling as I drove a weighted car through a day as dark as night to the airport, making the wet road even wetter, the cold afternoon even colder.

Damn rain.

Wesley sat to my left, his suitcase held tight against his chest. Every now and again, a drop of water would slip through a hole in the canopy above him and drip onto his glasses, prompting an irritated swipe of his sleeve to dry them. Apart from those occasional twitches, he didn't move.

Damn Watcher.

Faith lay sprawled in the back, her boots scraping limply against the back of Wesley's seat, instead of riding up high in their customary position against the window. Usually the constant scratching noise of sole against glass annoyed the hell outta me, but at the moment I missed it.

And I wasn't pleased that I missed it, either.

Damn girl.

So what if they decided they didn't need me anymore? I was damn sure I didn't need them. Wesley was right: they'd dropped in on me without asking, and we'd all nearly gotten each other killed more than once.

Wesley had drugged me and left me defenceless in front a clan of demons, not to mention invaded my private space, and totally wiped out my kettle with his constant requests for tea.

Faith had abandoned both of us to go out and party on a number of occasions, more often than not after some spat with Wesley that had left me trying to play peacemaker and getting nothing for my trouble.

I wouldn't have had to worry about Wesley, if Faith hadn't decided to run away from her duty in the first place.

Spike wouldn't have tried to kill me if she hadn't been around to tempt him for his hat trick.

Kate might have come to work with me, if Faith hadn't been looming in the distance.

The car's tires skidded again, and I spun the steering wheel hastily to keep the car under control, changing gears as I did so.

Damn rain.

I leaned against a vending machine and watched as Wesley talked to the woman behind the desk marked 'Flight Enquiries'.

Faith had planted herself in a plastic chair opposite me, and was munching her way through some bar of processed crap she'd taken from the machine at my back.

She'd been eating a candy bar the last time we were at the airport too, when we were preparing to see off the Council's team of private killers. She'd offered to share it, and then when I'd agreed, she'd-

I tensed. Wesley was coming back from the counter now, face grim. So this was it.

Better think of something fancy to say. Serious, yet philosophical. Above all, don't break down and start crying like a baby-man, even though you know you want to...

"The flight's delayed."

My brain froze up. My mouth, unfortunately, did not. "H-Huh? What? Oh."

Way to go, Doyle. Articulate, yet concise. I drew in a deep breath, and then realised I still had nothing intelligent to say. "Oh," I repeated dumbly.

Faith seemed to have none of my verbal impediments. "Why?" she demanded angrily. "What kinda delay?"

My heart sank. She sounded so angry that she wasn't already leaving. It cut. I tried to ignore it, but it did.

"The storm, apparently," Wesley said. His voice lacked her irritation. It just sounded tired. "All the planes are grounded." He slumped down into a chair next to her.

"Well, great," Faith said bitterly. "Just great. Pilot's afraid he might get the sniffles, so we're the ones who get screwed over."

"He's probably more concerned that a lightning bolt might blow a hole in his plane," Wesley observed. "One would assume, anyway."

Faith shoved the rest of the candy bar in her mouth and chewed glumly.

"It doesn't change anything," he continued. "We'll just leave a little later than planned. New Jersey will have to suffer unspeakable evils for a short while longer." He looked at me quizzically. "You've lived here longest - how long can we expect the storm to last?"

I wasn't entirely sure that I trusted my mouth, so I engaged my shoulders instead.

Wesley frowned. "You have no idea?"

I shrugged again. "Storms are generally a rarity around here, an' this is the worst I've seen by a long shot." I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "You're welcome to stay with me 'til it clears."

Wesley and Faith exchanged glances. "No, no. Wouldn't want to trouble you," he said politely.

I shrugged a third time. Why quit a winning formula? "It's no trouble."

Wesley shook his head. "No, I think it's best we just get a hotel room. But thank you for the offer."

As they picked up their bags, I realised Wesley was right. This delay hadn't changed anything.

But I couldn't quite shake an indefinable hope that maybe it had changed everything.

The sky was no clearer as the car sped back along the road. Rain drizzled down onto the windscreen, making long glistening streams on the glass.

We sat in silence like before. But if anything, this silence was even more uncomfortable than the last. The plane tickets had promised a clean break, painful, but over fast. Now it looked like the break would be prolonged, at least for a few more hours, a slow tearing apart instead of a sharp snap.

Wesley muttered something inaudible and reached across, turning on the radio. The gentle strains of classic music filled the car. I flicked it off again, for no particular reason.

"Sorry, Wes, but I don't feel up to the Bach Brigade this early in the mornin'," I said in response to his irritated glance.

"I was trying to find a weather report," Wesley retorted, turning it on again. He spun the tuner knob, and the violins dissolved into static, then wobbled into electric guitars for a moment, before transforming into a bored voice.

"...ditions appear to be worsening. The forecast for the day predicts..." a gentle snort "...sunny and mild, so who knows when this storm'll ease up. I've received reports that-"

Wes shut it off.

Lightning flashed above, lighting the whole car interior white for a second.

"Jeez," I heard Faith mutter in the back. "Kinda glad we're not on that plane."

I blinked, trying to clear my blurry vision as the crash of thunder swelled through the air. The rain intensified until the canopy above us was trembling gently and all I could hear was the soft drone of raindrops on metal and cloth.

Lightning flared again, fierce and bright. Another rumble of thunder.

Abruptly, the road ahead was no longer empty. A pale figure, long red hair streaming behind it, looking directly at us with a face devoid of expression - I stomped on the brake pedal, my nerves clenching as the car fish-tailed violently and then spun.

I was vaguely aware of a surprisingly-high shriek from Wesley, as the world flashed around and around, the steering wheel twisting, trying to break free of my grip. I think I swore as I saw a street lamp rushing up to meet us-

Faith didn't make a sound, not even when we struck.

Gradually, I became aware that I was lying half-sprawled across the back seat. My hands were shaking and green, but I didn't seem to be harmed. The demon had saved me again.

Wesley had no demon to protect him, but he seemed shaken more than hurt.

Faith... Faith wasn't in the car.

I looked around frantically, and saw a crumpled figure lying in the road.

Oh God...

I scrambled out of the car, Wesley staggering after me with an uncharacteristic curse as he struggled to get purchase on the slippery ground.

"Some ride," a voice said from behind us. I spun around and nearly fell flat on the ground, my feet skidding beneath me.

"Faith, you're... you're all right," Wesley said, his voice shaking.

"Sure." She shrugged. "Slayer, remember? Takes more than one little driving incident to see me off." Sure enough, she looked unharmed, though her hands were trembling slightly. She glanced at me. "Nice driving, Doyle." The anger was back, hard and uncompromising, but I noticed that her hands had stopped trembling.

Fine. If hating me was how she dealt, so be it.

I turned my back on her and pointed at the road. "Then who's that?"

I was still demon, so I could hear the woman's heart beating before we were even near her. That saved the embarrassment of checking for a pulse, since she wasn't wearing anything. At all.

"We gotta get her out of the rain," I ordered. "Faith, Wes, lend me a hand."

Faith shot me a resentful glance for my attempt to use non-existent authority, but she bent to help. Wesley just stood there, staring down at the woman's nude form, his jaw twitching slightly.

Faith turned her anger on him. "Come on, Wesley! I know it's been a while, but can't you get your rocks off later?"

Wesley didn't respond. I don't think he even heard her.

"Wes?" I asked. "Lend a hand, huh? We need to get this girl somewhere safe, whoever she is. Now len-"

Wesley's voice trembled when he spoke. "I know who she is. Her name is Charlotte Ambrage. She's a Watcher."