"He lives in Bengo, maybe forty kilometers from Caxito - thirty kilometers from Luanda, where we're docking. We can hire a car for the night, or..." Willow looked around at them. "I think we'll go by foot."

"'s a long way for you to walk, pet." Spike looked her over; Willow was fit, but not a runner.

"I've got a big, strapping lad to help me along," she simpered, looking up at Angel from under her lashes. He groaned. "Or, I could fly. I'll be fine. But Xan'll kill me if I show up with a cabin-fevered hyperactive vampire. This way we should get there an hour or so before dawn, and we'll all be a bit less hyper."

Willow and Angel had just come below deck, Angel scratching at the peeling sunburn on his nose. Illyria yawned and stretched, only remembering to cover her naked body after the sheet slipped down to pool at her waist. "Sounds like a plan."

"Cabin-fevered hyperactive vampire?" Spike scowled as he lurched from the low bed towards the chair where his clothes were folded; Willow looked pointedly away from his iridescent buttocks.

"Sounds about right," Angel chuckled, tossing Spike a hand-axe from the small bag of weapons that had survived the fight in LA. Spike snatched it from the air without turning around and spun it to slip the haft through his beltloop before putting on his shirt.

"Shut it, Peaches."

Illyria rose, willing her clothing into being as she went. She had discovered that it could be swelteringly hot both on deck and in the tiny converted cargo bin they shared, and had adopted Willow's costume of shorts and a T-shirt; she kept her hair, nails and eyes blue, but her skin-tone was evenly pale and her lips pink. She quickly smoothed the sheet over the bed and stood in time to catch the long knife that Angel flipped her direction. She stared at it for a moment, then slipped it into the sheath that shimmered into existance on her belt. "How long until sunset?"

"Sun's down. You two slept the day away." Willow was picking through what was left in the bag. She held out a second axe towards Angel and claimed a basic stake for herself before turning to catch Spike's leer.

"Weren't exactly sleeping, pet."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Color me surprised. Anyway, we're docking in a few minutes, and the captain asked if I could keep you down here until we're secure. Apparently you... unnerve... some of his crew."

"Fancy that." Angel zipped up the bag and dumped it next to the other, smaller bag that held the few clothes they had bought before boarding the cargo ship. After two weeks in a box, the clothes were suffering from the lack of a proper washroom. The four of them were rather ripe, themselves, though they had finagled a few sponge-baths in the tiny toilet and most of the smell was masked by the cigarette smoke that permeated the cabin. The ship was crewed by semi-aquatic demons who didn't feel the need to outfit their single guest room with a shower, and Willow's contact had warned them to bring toilet paper on board with their other supplies. Luckily the crew was used to transporting vampires, and there was a 'fridge in the galley that was devoted to blood and, in this rare instance, human food; the demon's blood was unpotable and they lived on raw fish, so any passengers had to bring their own food with them.

Everyone ran a quick check through their possessions as the ship lurched into harbor and was locked down, and it was only fifteen or so minutes later that the captain banged on their door and told them it was okay to come out.

The sky was still hazy with twilight when the four made their precarious way across the slippery docks and into the warren of dirty streets that comprised the warehouse district. Night watchmen were beginning their patrols, and dayshift workers were making their hasty ways home, but the travelers slipped unnoticed through town and out to where the warren of alleys spread into wider boulevards flanked by low bungalows, and further to the point where dust and jungle vied to press against the city's borders.

True to her word, as soon as they broached the city limits, Willow took to the air. She sparkled fuzzily for a brief moment, then shot ahead. With a wild whoop, Spike took off after her, Illyria and Angel in howling pursuit.

They made quick passage, bounding effortlessly over the dry streams and heaped brush that carved the night-cooled landscape, moonlight brighter than an LA evening casting everything into harsh relief. It wasn't until they came to the base of a low cliff that Spike realized that the ground had been climbing for some time, and when he looked back, he could see Luanda's glow in the distance. Willow was waiting for them on a rockpile, legs primly crossed and their two duffles and the cooler that held their waning supply of blood stacked neatly at her feet.

"Show off," Spike grumbled, dropping himself beside her. Willow merely smirked.

"Everyone okay?" Angel leaned against a tree, panting. He was still getting used to the sensation of his heart beating in his chest and breaths that were more than dramatic flair, and he had grown softer over the past year. Still, the thundering rush of blood in his veins and the unaccustomed sting in his muscles prompted him with a glorious compulsion to push his newly unaccustomed body to its limits.

"I find I enjoy this type of night." Illyria cocked her head and looked around, through the shadows that veiled the sparse woods. "The plants whisper; though we no longer share a language, it is good to hear."

"Good to know, pet." Spike just shook his head at Willow's questioning gaze. "And you, Red? Doin' all right with the mojo?"

"All souped up. I've been storing up since we left, and... It's so much easier here. I could fly all of us to Cairo and back and barely feel it. This place is such a rush!"

Spike grinned at the excited Willow-babble. "I know how you feel. Everythin's... thrumming. Didn't feel like this the last time I came visitin'; must be the new diet."

"That was weeks ago." Willow quirked an eyebrow. "Wasn't it?"

Spike ducked his head. "Well, you know. Sex. Vampires. God-Kings..."

"It's all about the blood." She smirked.

"You've been drinking from Illyria?" Angel suddenly caught up with the conversation and jerked upright. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Before he could advance on his wayward childe, Illyria extended a restraining hand.

"Angel. This is neither your decision nor your concern, though I will indulge your temerity to the extent of admitting to have found the experience pleasurable. But since the point is now moot, you will refrain from further comment."

"Moot?" Willow asked the question, since Angel was still gawping.

"Part of the journey, Red. We hit shore, and the world comes back." Willow looked at Spike for a long moment, then nodded.

"Then the only question is... Who can get to the top first?" And with that she shot upwards, their bags trailing behind.

"Cheater!" Spike shouted, before leaping at the weathered rock and beginning his own ascent.

Willow beat them all, of course, but Illyria was a closer second than she had anticipated. The two of them took off again without waiting for the others, rapidly covering terrain that morphed from the dry, dusty coastal plain, dotted with sparse, thirsty vegetation, to the lusher interior jungle. They soon reached a dirt track that carved through the landscape and Willow set down, willing her magic into her muscles rather than the air around her so that she could keep up with her companion. Before long, they approached the tiny village, near but not part of Bengo, where Xander lived.

Willow slowed to a halt as soon as she could make out the shapes of the individual buildings, drawing Illyria's attention to the only two-story building in town.

"I haven't been here, of course, but I'm thinking that that's Xander's place. He's got two Slayers living with him right now, and has a workshop - he's a carpenter - on the ground floor. He told me that the building used to be housing for visiting medics, or something."

Illyria nodded, keen eyes penetrating the pseudo-gloom of the town's simple cross-hatching streets. Sodium lanterns flared at scattered crossings, lessening the moon's effect, but there were still several hours before dawn and the town was quiet.

"Peaches and I picked up a scent, a ways back, if you're game." Spike loomed suddenly between them, mildly interested eyes flicking over the array of scattered dwellings and the low brick building that housed the local stores. "We've got a bit, yeah? And I doubt the whelp'd be thrilled to see us quite so bright and early."

"Yes. Let us hunt these demons, then." Illyria spun on her heel and lifted a foot to begin her return to where Angel waited, barely out of sight. Willow's movement in the opposite direction, however, had her turning her head. "You do not join us?"

"Huh?" Willow looked surprised. "But I'm not a fighter."

Spike cocked an eyebrow, a smirk teasing at his lips. "Right. Must've been some other white-haired witch shootin' the mojo at the demon hordes a few weeks ago. But that's not the issue. You don't really wanna wait on Harris' stoop for us, do you? C'mon, it'll be fun." He was practically bouncing, the anticipation of violence bubbling through him.

Willow waved a hand and their bags disappeared, the action echoed by a faint thump from the distant porch where they landed. She smiled. "Let's go."

The three moved together towards Angel, Willow again gathering power around her to accentuate her own physical skills so that she could keep the pace set by her supernatural companions. Without a word, Angel turned and disappeared from the side of the track, fading into the shelter of the trees.

They moved easily, loping along over dusty ground, Angel in the lead and Willow behind, Illyria and Spike flanking her at some little distance. Periodically, either Angel or Spike would raise his head to sniff at the air, always quickly imitated by Illyria, who seemed frustrated that she could not track their quarry so easily. Finally, Angel raised a hand to halt their progress.

The gentle slope of the land had funneled rainfall into a twisting path that, here, cut deeply into the top layer of sandstone to create a gorge littered with granite boulders. Though it was the height of the dry season, water still glinted from the depths and chuckled where it danced past the glittering stones. What captured Angel's interest, however, was the deep shadow that marked the entrance to a cave just below the opposite bank.

"Good to know you haven't lost your touch," Spike hissed, and Angel growled in response.

"How're we doing this?" Willow asked. She had been surprised when Angel hadn't protested her involvement, but his easy acceptance had made her more comfortable in her role as part of the hunting party. "Straight on in, guns a-blazing?"

"We have no artillery." Illyria frowned. "Or was that metaphorical?"

"Yup. I'm the metaphor girl. Just asking if we've got a plan, or are we heading straight for the slice-n-dice? I say straight in; I can get us out if it gets hairy, and I'm definitely up for a little ruction." Willow's grin was fierce.

"You're my kinda girl, Red. Let's do it." At a nod from Angel, Spike made the leap that brought him to the opposite bank. He dropped to the flattened dirt that marked the entryway to the cave as the others flew overhead - Willow literally. When all four were facing the cave's mouth he drew his axe and winked at Willow, before disappearing into the darkness. Angel muttered under his breath and followed, leaving the other two to exchange wry smiles before they, too, made their way into the cave.

"It's not natural." Spike's whisper echoed softly back towards the others, and Willow murmured a spell that caused a sourceless light to flicker around them. Spike was right; the tunnel was relatively smooth-walled, and the floor flat.

"It's not machined, though. Must be burrowers, or something." Willow reached out to touch the pattern of gouges that marked the rounded tunnel walls.

"Makes sense. Hope they're scrappy, though. Hate to go to all this trouble for a demon mole, or summat." Spike was sauntering slowly forward, bright eyes belying his casual movement.

"I'm gonna go with a yes." Angel pointed to the shadows just beyond the reach of Willow's spell, and she moved forward to bring it into the light. The dark form that had caught Angel's attention was a dark red, pebbled like rhinocerous skin, and crusty with the creamy remnants of some sort of bodily fluid. Spike nudged it with his boot, and Willow realized that it was more than twice his size. It flopped inelegantly to the side, a crumpled heap of claws and fangs and horny protrusions between deep wounds that had long stopped oozing. The movement stirred the dry air, and Spike coughed and jumped backwards.

"Bloody hell, but that's vile!" The little moisture left had been trapped under the demon's corpse, and the blood had either rotted, or had been incredibly noxious to begin with. Either way, Willow's stomach heaved in protest and Angel grew pale beneath his sunburn.

"Let's keep moving, okay? Dead, stinky things aren't supposed to come until later in tonight's program." Willow steadied her voice and her stomach with effort, but her steps forward were sure.

They traveled only a few more feet, however, before the light from Willow's spell revealed that the tunnel was widening. This time it was Spike who called the halt, straining his ears for any signs of movement.

"Doesn't matter, does it? If they're in there, the light already gave us away." Angel shrugged as he spoke and moved the last dozen feet to where the tunnel opened up into a rounded, artificial cavern.

Together they stepped into the space, and Willow spoke the words that caused the light she shed to expand, casting out all shadows. The occupants of the cave hissed and sheltered their wide, compound eyes from the sudden glare.

"I'm guessing... not so much with the burrowing."

"Their appendages are ill-adapted to such a task." Illyria turned and winked at Willow. "But they'll be hella fun to fight!" She drawled.

The demons who had taken over the cave from its creators were hideous. The corpse they had passed in the hallway had been huge, and terrifying in its own way, but these monstrous creatures were something wholly other. There were three of them, black bulky things that, at full extent, would have measured at least twelve feet. They were vaguely tortoise-like, with thick chitinous carapaces that articulated fleshily with smooth, heavy arms. Four of them. The upper pair was bulky and massive, ending in a bony club that was ridged with heavy spines, while the lower had two elbows that both bent inwards, allowing the arms to fold neatly against the heavy shell. These had more delicate, hand-like extremities that were quickly pulling short swords and daggers from the cache behind the pile of plant matter and furs that had apparently been their bedding.

The first of the three creatures roared, a deep bellow that seemed to sound in two octaves at once and rattled Willow's cheekbones. She swore and took to the air, unwilling to expose herself to direct attack but ready to intervene in the coming battle if necessary. From above, she had a better view of the creatures. Their legs folded in like a rabbit's, close to the body but capable of launching a forceful assault. And their heads... giant, predator's jaws glinting with dirty yellow teeth, bulging insect's eyes, long sensory slits along the ridged and armored muzzle, and heavy plating from the crest of the head that swept along the neck to merge with the crenellation of the back shell.

The second creature picked up the roar, a lighter sound that spurred the third, largest demon into action. It launched with a bellow of its own, driving with its immensely powerful hind legs towards the cluster of warriors that had invaded its den. Its opponents scattered, swearing, and it struggled to halt itself.

"They can't control themselves if they're going fast," Spike noted. "See if you can get one of 'em to bash itself into the wall, eh?" And he threw his axe at the first demon.

It clattered from the beast's carapace, but drew its attention. With a heavy, meaty grunt, it launched itself in turn. When Spike danced back, attempting to draw it into a collision with the wall behind him, it slammed one club-fist into the ground and used the force of the impact to change the direction of its momentum, circling the focal point and running up onto the wall before launching itself horizontally at Spike. The collision was brutal, knocking Spike back and into the opposite wall, thirty feet away.

"Scratch that, then," he muttered, clambering unsteadily to his feet.

Angel was having his own problems, trying to block his opponent's blows with his hand-axe and only rarely getting in an ineffective strike of his own. Though he had no trouble dodging the nimble lower arms, one of the larger swept him aside with a thick thud; he only barely rolled away from a punishing downward strike.

Illyria, for her part, was darting merrily about the second demon, thrusting her long knife into the thick skin that covered the demon's shoulder and hip joints. Though her blows often skittered aside, she drew blood more than once and the demon's right lower limb was hanging limp.

"Get it at the joints," Willow bellowed, the only one able to see what Illyria's plan was. Angel and Spike grunted their acknowledgement and turned their attention back to their opponents.

"I request assistance," Illyria yelped, leaping away from a knife-thrust before rolling the opposite direction when the heavy upper arm on the demon's other side swung in her direction.

"Whatcha need, pet?" Spike hurdled his own opponent, vaulting from its back to land behind Illyria's.

"A distraction. Physical. Left side." They exchanged a quick, considering glance, and Spike nodded.

"Gotcha." Once more, he thrust his axe futilely into the creature's face, and danced aside when it lumbered to face the new threat. "Oi! Up for some ring-around-the-rosie?" With that less than terrifying threat, Spike ducked under the left-handed blow that was sweeping towards him and grabbed the agile lower arm just above the wrist. He jerked mightily, feeling a satisfying snick of bones complaining under his hand, and began racing around the demon's back. Illyria performed a similar maneuver on the creature's other side, wrenching up and backwards on its dislocated lower right arm as she moved to meet Spike. With a horrific rending sound and a nauseating shriek from the beast, its arm parted from its body.

Angel looked over from where he was doing his best to avoid the double blows of the other two demons to see the third caterwauling its agony; that only lasted until Illyria leapt up and forward, grabbed the horny ridge of plating over the beast's upper shoulder, and used her momentum to slam her fist past the conjunction of bone and gristle that marked the place its arm had been. She rooted about inside its chest cavity for a long moment before Spike yelled a warning, and she leapt free only when it began to collapse. The keening stopped as the demon hit the floor.

"That was unexpected." Willow floated down to look at the body. "What did you do? Tear out its heart?" She cocked her head in avid, questioning interest, and Spike snickered at the show of trademark curiosity.

"There was no heart. I could not differentiate any distinct organ systems, so I merely ruptured as much as I could in the time alotted." Illyria shrugged.

"Well, that was way too much work for one little beasty. Red, you got any ideas for an easier kill?" Spike kicked at the severed arm, which was seeping tainted red ichor onto the floor.

She reached down to prod at the demon's carapace. "I'm guessing these are invulnerable?"

"Seem to be. Everything but the -" He was cut off by Angel's pained bellow.

"Guys! I'm gettin' trashed over here!" Angel was bleeding from the forehead and favoring his right arm, but was still managing to evade most of the concerted efforts of the demons he was against. For a large man, he was impressively agile, and much quicker than his opponents. It was obvious, however, that he was tiring.

"Distract them for a minute; I'll take care of it." Willow took to the air again, moving to hover just above the fight. Spike dove in with a holler, and Illyria shrieked a high-pitched battle cry as she leveled a punishing blow at what would have been the demon's kneecap, if it had kneecaps.

Above them, Willow's hair crackled and fanned out from her head as she raised her hands, fingers splayed wide. She thrust her fingers into the web of energy and magic that made up the universe, and beckoned. The light in the cavern grew dim, flickered, went out, then surged back into being with punishing brightness.

"Bloody hell!"

"Watch that!"

"Please refrain!"

And the demons roared.

"Sorry!" Willow squeaked, but grinned. "Try 'em now."

The demons were facing each other across Angel and Spike, who were fighting back to back. Illyria had darted behind one and attempted to climb its back in an attempt to reach its eyes, but it jerked and threw her off. As her muttered imprecations were overridden by Willow's command, Angel and Spike pressed themselves shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions. Suddenly, they leapt into motion, pivoting about the center point of their clasped hands, and reversed direction in order to spin out, using the restraining force of their linked hands to aid their jumping kicks so that, simultaneously, their booted feet crashed into - and through - the heavily armored shells of their foes.

The unexpected success took them both by surprise, and they crashed heavily to the ground. Illyria leapt over them and slammed her fist into the pulsing red-black morass of the first demon's chest, who was bellowing its pain. As she thrashed about inside its body, rending as much as she could before the inevitable collapse, it grated its arms into position to smash her between them. With a warning trill, Willow dove from her perch in the air and smashed into Illyria's side, knocking them both to the ground. The demon's arms thumped pointlessly together, and it fell forward.

Angel and Spike, having only just regained their feet, scurried clear of the imminent crushing before, with matching shrugs, they turned to smash groping hands into the open wound on the last, retreating, demon's chest. After a moment of rummaging, it, too, collapsed.

The four stared, wide-eyed and drenched in demon guts, at each other, the demon corpses, the nearly-empty cave. Then, they started laughing. Willow sagged against Angel and Spike braced himself on Illyria, who allowed herself a twitch about her mouth that could almost be termed amusement, while Angel tried to simultaneously chuckle and support Willow's weight.

Finally, after some time, the laughing stilled, though any shared glance was quick to set them off again.

"Well. That was fun." Spike grinned and turned, scanning the floor of the cave for his discarded axe. Within moments, he, Angel and Illyria were resecuring their respective weapons to their belts, and the four turned as one to leave. "So, Red. What'd those witchy little fingers of yours get up to?"

Willow grinned. "Well, I didn't want to play with fire - turns out that one of my friends is highly flammable, and I didn't know how much damage it would do, anyway. And I don't know any way to conjure ice. So instead of icing them like I wanted, I just froze them."

"There's a difference?" Angel asked.

"Of course!" Spike assured him. "What is it?" He hissed at Willow, causing her to chuckle and Angel to glare.

"Well, you know how I can suck the ambient magic from the air around me?" She looked around for nods and received them. "Magic and energy are similar, so I just piggy-backed one on the other and used magic to suck the energy from the demons' shells."

"Huh?" Angel grunted.

"She sucked the heat from their shells, and converted it into light. Right?" Illyria, Fred evident in the curiosity expressed in the quirk of her brow, asked Willow.

"Pretty much. Made them brittle, so you could punch through, but not too much, so I didn't shut down their internal systems - whatever those are. Didn't want it to be too easy." Spike slung a sludge-covered arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

"And you weren't gonna come. Silly girl."

"You weren't?" Angel stopped and turned to face them, brow creased with surprise.

"I dunno..." Willow stammered.

"She's used to being on the research squad. Hasn't yet gotten used to being completely kick-ass in the field." Illyria waggled her eyebrows and her eyes flashed brown.

"Y'know, that's a little disconcerting," Willow complained. "Not that I'm not glad to see Fred, and all, but... I can't wait for you two to integrate."

"We will never form a seamless personality, Willow. But with time, we shall each grow accustomed and will perhaps be able to make the transition more smoothly."

"Yup. Disconcerting."

By this point they were outside of the cave, standing on the little path that led up to the bank. With a murmur and a move of her hand, Willow reabsorbed the light that had guided their way.

"Guys? We took too long." The sky was a paler shade of navy, stars shining with less stark brilliance. "Hold on." With no more warning than that, Willow gripped Angel and Illyria by the wrists, her hip pressed into Spike's side, and teleported them to where she had deposited their baggage. Unfortunately for them, they actually landed on top of the bags, and spilled in an ungainly pile across Xander's porch. There was much thudding and swearing as they regained their feet, and so they shouldn't have been surprised when the door eased open and a one-eyed carpenter, dressed in boxers and a T-shirt and holding an axe, stared out at them.

"Spike?"