"It's called Illyria, a great monarch and warrior of the demon age murdered by rivals and left adrift in the Deeper Well," Wesley explained.
"Which is?" Angel asked.
"A burial ground, a resting place of all the remaining Old Ones," Wesley replied.
"Not to state the obvious, but this one ain't resting," Gunn said.
"No. I don't think this is merely an infection. Fred's skin is... hardening like a shell. I think she's being hollowed out so this thing can use her to gestate, to claw its way back into the world. That's speculation. Either way, she dies." Wesley looked at his feet.
"Do we have any chance of finding this Deeper Well?" Angel questioned.
"I already have. It's in England, in the Cotswolds." Wesley handed Angel a map. "That's the location, to the inch."
"Lorne, tell Harmony to prep the jet. We can be there in ten hours."
"You can be there in four," Knox spoke up. "We have really good jets."
"It will have a guardian, maybe several..." Wesley warned.
"Let 'em send an army," Spike said.
"How do we know going there is gonna do jack?" Gunn asked.
"The Deeper Well is almost like a prison for the dead. If something gets out, it's written it can be drawn back from the source," Wesley told her.
"That's our shot," Angel said.
"We'll keep working here, but, yes, I think it is," Wesley agreed.
"If nobody thinks it's too ridiculous, I'm going to pray," Lorne put in.
"No, it's appreciated. Time is not on our side," Wesley said, looking at him seriously.
"Nobody's on our side," Spike muttered.
"Come on. Let's save the day."
Angel and Spike left the room.