thedeadlyhook (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thedeadlyhook) wrote2004-05-18 08:23 am
thedeadlyhook) wrote2004-05-18 08:23 am
Bad Trip, Chapter 17
Here at last - the final installment - for now - of our gripping post-Season 7 BtVS road trip saga, in which the once and future Scoobies conference, Xander remembers more, and we meet coven members! Oh, and we finally check back in with Buffy and Dawn...
Previous chapters here.
ACT SEVENTEEN: ARRIVAL
It was nighttime in the hospital. Xander dozed intermittently, half-aware of the soft sounds of the night staff making their rounds, the hushed peeping of the instruments in his new semi-private room--thankfully still private, thanks to the lack of a roommate--and the soft rustle of the curtains over the partially opened window. The temperature outside was still in the comfortable mid-sixties, and Xander had flung aside the sheet on his bed, finding even its thin covering too warm. A light breeze moved through the room like caressing, searching fingers.
Xander became aware of someone standing beside his bed.
The figure was barely visible in the dim light of his hospital room, until his visitor leaned forward into the wedge of light that spilled in from the partially opened door.
It was Willow's face that he saw in the light. She smiled, and a mischievous spark danced in her eyes.
"Hey, Xander." Willow leaned closer, bending over the bed, and she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "You awake?"
"Uh, hey." Xander moved to adjust the sheets, cover himself, and Willow reached out a gentle hand to stop him.
"Ssh. It's okay, Xander." She planted one knee on the bed and scooted forward, positioning herself over his prone body. He saw that the first buttons of her pyjama top were undone, the shirt hanging open. Willow noticed him noticing, and giggled.
"Should we be doing this?" Xander raised his hands, put them to her shoulders. "This always leads to trouble. Also, badness."
Willow drew her other leg up onto the bed and shifted her weight. He felt a warm thigh slide across his chest, feverishly hot even through the thin fabric, and now Willow was straddling him. She reached up and took his hands, guiding them down to the softness of her breasts. "Yes, Xander," she sighed. "Let's be bad."
"Yes... I mean no!" With an effort, he yanked his hands away. "Willow, we can't do this! I mean, what about her?"
"Oh, she doesn't mind." Willow slid herself down his body, reaching backward to grab hold of him. The sensation was so intense it was almost painful, and he gave a helpless gasp. "I think she wants to join in," Willow continued. "Don't you, sweetie?"
A figure stepped forward from the other side of the bed. It was Kennedy, clad in pyjama bottoms and a tight halter top. The fingers of her right hand were tracing nervous circles around her exposed navel. "I don't know, Willow," she said, glancing shyly at Xander. "It's my first time. With a man, I mean."
"Oh, shut up, Kennedy." Willow raised her free hand to Kennedy's face, pulling her head down. Their mouths met in a long, lascivious kiss, Kennedy's tongue stud glinting in the half-light. Willow kept her other hand on Xander, squeezing and relaxing her grip in a slow, steady rhythm, and he groaned in an ecstasy of pain.
"Keep it down, would you? Some of us are trying to read."
He turned his head in the direction of the familiar voice. There in the corner of the room was Spike, shirtless and glowering, a copy of National Geographic propped open in his hand. "Don't make me come over there," Spike said, raising a cautionary finger.
Xander screamed, shrieked with horror like a little girl, and came very abruptly awake.
"Oh Jesus, oh God!" Xander bent forward, clutching his head in his hands, his eye watering as it adjusted to the bright morning light.
"Xander? What is it?" It was Willow, the real thing, sensibly clad in jeans and a modest turtleneck sweater. She put aside the issue of Jane she'd been reading while she waited for him to wake up, and leaned over to make sure Xander was okay. "Were you having a nightmare?"
Xander looked away, trying to hide the color in his cheeks, then realized he'd better turn his whole body while he was at it. "It was him again. It's always him."
"You mean Spike?" Willow ventured, and Xander nodded in the affirmative. "Was it another of those vision-quest things?"
"Oh, hell no." Xander drew in a deep breath, held it, exhaled slowly.
"Uh, okay." Willow shot him a puzzled glance, then stepped away for a moment to collect up the aluminum crutches he'd left propped up against the wall. "So, dream boy, you ready for your morning walkies?"
...........
Xander and Willow maneuvered in silence through the grassy area beside the hospital that had been set aside for the patients. The landscaped area resembled a garden, with a path winding through grass and flowers, and a small brook at the bottom of a sloping hill, but it wasn't quite far enough from the main road to completely mask the sound of traffic.
Willow eyed Xander critically. Over the past week, his injuries had almost completely healed, thanks to a subtle push here and there from her magic, but he still seemed wounded in mind if not body. And he really seems distracted this morning, Willow thought.
"I did a locator spell today," she announced brightly. "And nada. Didn't even show up. Which means they're moving again."
Xander grunted. "Great. Just wonderful. So while we've been stuck here, thanks to me, we've lost track of Buffy and Dawn."
"Oh, no!" Willow pasted on a wide, reassuring grin. "That just means they're moving too fast for me to get a fix on them. Probably in an airplane. I'll be able to pinpoint 'em again when they land. No worries at all. And once Kennedy and the girls get back from the airport with our guests from the Westbury coven, we can start planning our next move." She beamed at him, waited for a reaction, got nothing. "Do you, uh, feel up to the next move?" she prompted.
"I guess so," Xander said, working the crutches around a tricky turn in the pathway. "I'm strong enough to get around on my own, so it's probably time to stop leeching off the hospital's good will. We're lucky they've been generous this long, just because the girls helped fight off the Army of Darkness. If it weren't for that, we'd be relying on all the health insurance I don't have."
"I though you had a medical plan on your construction job."
"Key word there is 'had,' as in 'had a job.' These days, I'm officially a bum and a burden on the state."
"Of course you're not!" Willow insisted. "You've got friends to take care of you. You're not a burden at all."
Xander just grunted in response. Willow bit her lip, stopped walking, forced herself to ask.
"Xander? What's bothering you? Is it something you can talk about?"
Xander sighed, leaning heavily on his crutches. "Sure. I can talk about it. Not sure what good it does." He stabbed a crutch at the ground, leaving a circular hole in the grass. "I've remembered more."
"About your vision?"
"It wasn't a vision. I was there. I was a walking, talking, see-through ghost getting a preview of the afterlife." He continued stabbing at the ground, creating a pattern of little circles in the wet grass. "And Spike and I talked... about a lot of things. Like what a soul really is. Like... Anya."
"Oh." Anya. I guess that is overdue. We've never really talked about her. "Did he, uh, say--"
"She's probably in hell."
This brought Willow up short. "Wh-what makes you think that? Just because you saw Spike--"
"No. Because... Okay, let me start over. I've been having dreams."
Willow crinkled her forehead. "But I thought you said that it wasn't a dream."
"It wasn't. But it felt like one, at the time. And since I woke up, part of me's been trying to convince myself that it was. You know, head trauma, painkillers, hallucinations." He shook his head. "But I keep seeing him. Spike, I mean. He keeps showing up. In my dreams."
"I'm, uh, not getting the connections here."
He sucked in a big breath. "It's like this. Either I really went on some big, supernatural journey, twice, or there's some other reason why my subconscious keeps giving me Spike as a guest-star. And you know, I almost wish that were it. I think I'd rather just admit that I'm the last Scooby to fall for the dangerous allure of Spike's amazing cheekbones, and face a future of marching arm in arm with Andrew in the Pride Parade, than think about some of the stuff we talked about."
"Hey! Watch it there with that 'last Scooby' stuff. I never had the lusty Spike-related thoughts. I mean, gay here!" Willow waved her hands in protest. "I mean, sure there were a couple of times he seemed to be, you know, kind of coming on to me, with the kidnapping thing, and the trying to turn me into a vampire, during which there was a certain... disturbing chemistry--" she stopped. "I'm really not helping here, am I?"
"Big no. Did I tell you that the spirit guide showed up shirtless?"
"I, uh, think you skipped that one." Willow laughed nervously, taking a sudden fascinated interest in combing her fingers through her hair. Okay! Actually starting to wonder here, Xan. "So, uh, what kind of stuff did you talk about? You said... about Anya--"
"Yeah. Anya." He winced. "It's funny, Will. I mean, all these years we've been killing demons and vampires, and I don't think I've ever thought once about what happens to them after that. Or us. And Anya... I never really thought about what her being a demon meant at all."
"What do you mean?"
He fell silent then and resumed walking, concentrating on moving his crutches. Willow idly noted his flexing arms, impressively firm from his construction work. Guess those would be the manly muscles Anya was always talking about.
"Spike said... that souls are like checkbooks," Xander explained, his eyes firmly on the ground as he kept moving. "That everything you do counts, plus or minus."
"Oh. Well, that makes sense, I guess."
"You think? 'Cause you know what scares me? That he knew that, and we didn't. That Anya knew. And we've just being truckin' along thinking that, no matter what we do, we're still the good guys."
"What? Xander, what makes you think that--"
"Because you know, they were demons," he cut her off. "They weren't human. And wherever they are now... they wouldn't even be there if they hadn't tried to help us."
"I don't--I don't really understand what you're saying."
"Forget it. Never mind." Xander turned himself back toward the hospital.
As they began the return trip, a familiar face appeared at the side door that led out from the hospital into the landscaped lawn. "There you are," Kennedy hollered. "Hey, come meet the new guys!"
"Hobbling as fast as I can," Xander grumbled. As if in response, there was a commotion at the door, and they heard a deep, mellifluous, British-accented voice assuring Kennedy that it was no trouble, really, they didn't want to put anyone out. Moments later, Kennedy emerged with two strangers in tow, and with the four younger Slayers bringing up the rear of the train.
As the group entered the garden, one of the newcomers broke away from the pack, striding rapidly towards Xander and Willow. It was a man in his twenties, tall and dark-skinned, with lustrous silver hair and aristocratically handsome facial features. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, flashing a dazzling array of perfect white teeth. "You must be Willow Rosenberg and Alexander Harris. So good to meet you!" He offered his open palm, and when Willow took it, he stooped to plant a quick kiss on the back of her hand.
The second of the new arrivals, a buxom young woman in a windbreaker and baggy pants, caught up to her traveling companion and gave him an affectionate swat on the rear. "Never you mind Roderick. He's always like this. A bit theatrical, you know?" She beamed at Xander. "My name's Mandy. Right pleased to make your acquaintance." Her smile dimmed by just a couple of watts as she turned to Willow and added, "Nice to see you again, Rosenberg."
"Hi, Mandy," Willow replied. "Uh, thanks for coming out here. Are you guys going to be staying at the hospital too?"
"Not on your life," Roderick exclaimed. "Ghastly places. Full of negative energy."
"We've lined up a hostel in town," Mandy elaborated. "Sounds lovely, and they gave us a great rate, given how rotten business has been of late." She gave a toss of her glossy brown hair--quite unnecessarily, in Willow's opinion--and added "Besides, we don't like to be a bother, do we?"
"So," Xander interjected, finally recovering his equilibrium, "you're both, uh, Wiccas then?"
"Witches, if you rather," Mandy laughed. "Good enough for Harry Potter, innit?"
"And you," he asked Roderick, "would be, um, some sort of man-witch?"
Kennedy and the other Slayers had gathered behind their guests, waiting quietly while Xander and Willow made their introductions, and Bet now hopped forward to join the conversation. "Roderick's a warlock!" she exclaimed. "And Mandy has a cat!"
"That's right," Mandy laughed, ruffling Bet's hair with her fingers. "He's what we call a familiar."
Graciela stepped up and caught Roderick's eye, smiling shyly. "Do you have a familiar, Roderick?"
"Why yes I do, Graciela," the warlock grinned. "He's an iguana, though, and he doesn't travel well, so I had to leave him at home."
"Okay, people," Kennedy said loudly. "Let's go get these guys settled in. Bet, Graciela, you wanna help with the bags?" The two young Slayers enthusiastically agreed, and after a final round of pleasantries, Kennedy led her quartet of witches and Slayers back inside the hospital.
Xander and Willow stood for a moment, watching Kennedy and friends disappear through the door.
"Figures it had to be Mandy they sent," Willow grumbled. "Little miss goody two-wands."
"Did you see that guy's teeth?" Xander groaned. "No British guy is supposed to have teeth that good. I think there's something about it in the Magna Carta."
Heaving simultaneous sighs, Xander and Willow began heading back to the hospital. Suddenly, they heard a faint attention-getting cough from close behind them, and Xander almost toppled as he pivoted on his crutches. It turned out to be Neena and Lo, still loitering in the garden after their junior colleagues had left with Kennedy's party.
"Sorry to startle you, Mr. Harris," Neena began.
"Just plain Xander," he answered sadly. "Beaten-up, broken-down, non-magical-power-having Xander."
Neena shook her head, smiling. "Mr. Harris, we just wanted to say that..." she paused, searching for the right words. "We consider you and Miss Rosenberg to have seniority here. We'd never have made it this far if it weren't for your experience and your proven, uh..."
"She means thanks," Lo interrupted. "Thanks for everything." Leaning in close, she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I gotta say though," she said, shooting a quick glance back over her shoulder to make she couldn't be overheard. "I don't think those new guys are real witches."
Willow and Xander exchanged puzzled glances, then burst out laughing. A moment later, Lo and Neena joined in, and the landscaped garden was filled for a while with the sound of easy, affectionate laughter.
...........
It wasn't just her imagination, Dawn decided, as she and Buffy made their way down the echoing tiled hallways of Heathrow airport. Even though it she'd never set foot in the place before today, she felt sure that the airport was unnaturally empty. The plane from New York had been barely half full, the British customs line eerily short, and now she saw that the arrivals area was all but deserted.
She glanced at her watch. Barely forty minutes had elapsed since their plane landed, and the flight itself had arrived ahead of schedule, so it looked like they were going to be clearing the airport in record time.
"What's the matter, Dawnie?" her sister asked teasingly. "You expecting somebody?"
Dawn glanced over her shoulder. Buffy had come to a stop behind her, towing a cart piled with suitcases and luggage. Under her arm was the hardened case which contained the scythe.
"I still can't believe you got that thing through security," Dawn marveled, motioning towards Buffy's case.
"Why not? I hear they even let people transport guns in their checked luggage. Guess they must have figured it was a movie prop or something." Buffy let go of the cart and hoisted the case up onto her left shoulder. "So, you ready for the exciting train ride?"
"I'm kinda tired of sitting down," Dawn sighed. "Can we go up and look in the shops for a bit? I hear they have a British Museum store here."
"There'll be plenty of shops in London," Buffy assured her. "Besides, I think all the airport shops are on the other side of the security gates."
"Can't we just go up and see?" Dawn whined.
"What, with all this luggage? Don't be an idiot." Buffy paused, and her eyes narrowed skeptically. "Hey, are you stalling?"
Dawn gulped. "I, uh... It's not fair!" She pouted, stomped her foot for dramatic emphasis. "Why do we always have to be in such a hurry? You wouldn't even let me talk to that cute guy back at Yellowstone, and..."
"Oh no, not this again," Buffy groaned. "I swear, I should have cut your throat back in Calgary." She grabbed the handle of the cart with her free right hand and set off for the exit that led to the train station, pushing brusquely past Dawn.
As the cart passed by, Dawn leaned over and plucked a small carrying bag off the back. Then she hurried after her sister, unzipping the bag and fumbling inside as she trotted along.
"Won't be long now, Dawnie," Buffy chuckled to herself. "Events are about to start moving a lot more quickly."
Dawn came up alongside her sister, a little behind and to the left. "What did you say, Buffy?"
"I said, uh--" Buffy glanced back, and her eyes widened in surprise, but she had no time to react before Dawn slammed the taser into the vulnerable left side of her torso.
There was a crackle of electricity, and Buffy convulsed, the bulky case tumbling from her shoulder and onto the floor. Dawn jabbed her a couple more times, driving Buffy to her knees, and then she reached inside her carrying bag and extracted a small leather case.
"It's okay, everyone," Dawn announced for the benefit of the concerned strangers she saw approaching from the periphery of her vision. "She's having a seizure, but she's going to be okay. I have her medicine right here."
Dawn laid the leather case open on the floor and extracted a hypodermic syringe, giving the plunger a quick push to drive out any air bubbles, like they always did in the movies. Then she crouched over Buffy, pulled her jacket and the lower edge of her blouse out of the way, and drove the needle into the side of her sister's waist.
She pushed the plunger all the way down, watching the clear yellow liquid as she forced it into Buffy's body. An organic compound, that's what he called it. Muscle relaxants. Adrenal suppressors. He'd been cleaning his glasses, like he always did when he didn't want to make eye contact. No lasting effects. She watched the tube of the syringe, trying not to think about who she was doing this to, and why.
Dawn withdrew the empty syringe and tossed it aside. She reached into her carrying bag again, doing her best not to look at the figure curled on the floor, still twitching from the aftereffects of the taser and the massive overdose of suppressant chemicals.
She found the cell phone and pulled up the number she'd been given almost a month earlier, the day after Sunnydale collapsed into the Hellmouth. The phone rang once, twice, three times. While she listened, Dawn tried to compose herself, swabbing away the tears which had begun welling up in her eyes.
The ringing stopped, and there was a voice. "Rupert Giles."
"Giles." Dawn willed herself to speak slowly and clearly. "It's me. We're already here. We got in early." As she spoke, she shrugged the tension out of her shoulders, hugged one arm around her own waist. Were it not for the splayed form at her feet, a casual observer might have taken her for any teenager making a call to her friends.
The voice on the other end of the phone grew suddenly sharp, intense. "Dawn. Are you alone? Where is she?"
"She's with me." Dawn's eyes flicked over to Buffy's huddled body. She forced herself to stay calm, to sound casual. "You were right, Giles. She's gone all evil. I had to take her down. I'm sorry, I just... there wasn't any more time."
"We're on our way in right now." She heard faint voices in the background--the sound of slamming car doors, the clatter of shoes on concrete. "Dawn. I want you to be extremely careful, do you understand me? You've already taken an enormous risk."
Dawn nodded vigorously, belatedly realizing that Giles couldn't see her make the gesture, and mopped away a fresh stream of tears with her sleeve. Just as she'd opened her mouth to reply, she noticed that Buffy had begun to move. The handful of people who were hovering nearby, anxiously watching the drama unfold, flinched and stepped back when Buffy began to laugh. The sound was cold, mocking, inhuman.
"Hah. Hah hah." Buffy's speech was slurred, but gathering in force. "You stupid little bitch. You think you're dealing with a mere Slayer?"
"Bu... Buffy?" Dawn lowered the cell phone, watching with horror as Buffy dragged herself up into a half-crouch, arms dangling limply at her sides. Her blonde hair swung lazily from side to side as she struggled to rise.
"Your sister's not here right now, Dawnie." The hunched figure turned, fixing Dawn with pitch-black eyes, their pupils monstrously dilated. The lips twitched, forming themselves into a wide smirk. "I thought that her killing you... that would be the shock that finally bound her to me completely. But you know what?" Her sister's body staggered to its feet. "This'll do."
Dawn felt a sudden lurch, then a low, sustained rumbling. The lights flickered; the walls of the arrival hall swayed alarmingly. It's an earthquake, Dawn realized with stunned detachment. Just like we used to have in Sunnydale.
The figure that stood before her sighed with pleasure. It extended its arms out to the sides, fingers splayed, and Dawn thought she could see something strong and dark flowing up from the floor, from the earth, and into Buffy's body. The blackness in Buffy's eyes burned with malice, and her grin widened until it seemed like her face would split in two.
"So long, Dawn. It's been fun playing with you." Buffy bent to pick up the case that contained the scythe, and hoisted it back onto her shoulder. Then, as Dawn looked on in despair, she turned and ran for the exit, faster than any human being could hope to follow.
...........
"I don't get why this can't be on the house," Kennedy grumbled. "I mean, we only saved the whole city. You'd think they'd be willing to comp us."
"It's okay, sweetie," Willow murmured, reaching across the restaurant table to pat Kennedy's hand. "It just means things are getting back to normal at last. Isn't that right, Xander?" She turned to catch his eye. "Xander?"
"Huh?" It took him a moment to parse her question. "Sorry, Will. Guess my mind was kinda wandering." He looked away, turning his attention back to the other end of the table, where the young Slayers were engrossed in an animated conversation with the two British witches.
The TGI Friday's had only just reopened for business, and evidently the residents of downtown Buffalo were still in the process of returning from their temporary evacuation, because they had the restaurant almost to themselves. As a result, their companions evidently felt free to discuss the finer points of magic and monster-slaying at full volume, and Bet and Graciela were currently squealing over a present that the newcomers had brought along from England.
"There's really an official Slayer Handbook?" Neena asked curiously, her words muffled somewhat by an unhealthy mouthful of fried mozzarella. "Nobody ever said anything about a handbook."
"Here, check this out!" Graciela exclaimed, holding the tattered book up for their inspection. "Correct staking stances, with diagrams and everything." She giggled incredulously. "This crap goes on for, like, ten pages."
"Take a look at page seventy-six," Roderick suggested. "The duties of a Slayer as regards her Watcher. I imagine you'll find it quite amusing." He leaned back, grinning, his eyes flicking for a second toward the senior end of the table.
Bet thumbed through the pages. "A Slayer must be respectful of her Watcher, and heed his advice at all times and in all matters, defib... deferring always to his superior wisdom and experience..." She shook her head in amused disbelief. "Gee, I wonder who wrote this?"
"You'll note," Mandy added dryly, "that the Watcher is presumptively male."
"Of course," Lo replied, straight-faced. "Otherwise she'd be a Watchette." She held her composure for a moment, then dissolved in helpless laughter, and the other girls swiftly joined her.
As the hilarity died down, Graciela craned her neck to peer over Mandy's shoulder. The chestnut-haired witch was tapping away at her laptop computer. "What's that you're working on?" Graciela asked.
"Oh, just a little something I've been putting together." Mandy swung the laptop around so that the girls could see the screen. "See, this map shows the distribution of active Slayers in the North American region, according to the seers in Devon. And this," she said, nudging the keyboard with a manicured fingernail, "is a quantitative index of urban incident reports--fires, murders, riots, large-scale vandalism--culled from the news feeds. If we overlay them thus..." The girls oohed and aahed, and Mandy beamed with poorly disguised pride.
"So," Lo ventured, eyes on the screen, "if we can figure out where the other Slayers are, and where The First is using them to carry out its evil plans..."
"Then we can tackle them in order," Neena concluded. "We can make an initial foray into Albany, say, or Toronto, someplace where it's not that bad yet..."
Roderick grinned. "And if we can find these Slayers, and free them from its control, then we'll also be increasing our own numbers."
"Exponentially," Mandy added helpfully.
"How about New York City?" Bet piped up. "I always wanted to go there!" She flushed with excitement. "I hear they have horse carriages in Central Park."
"Forget the horsies! I wanna see the Empire State Building. And the Statue of Liberty. How cool would it be if we got to climb that?" Lo enthused, pointedly ignoring Graciela's shudder of dread.
At the far end of the table, camouflaged behind stacked plates of picked-clean barbequed ribs and lonely crumbs of breaded shrimp, Xander rested his chin in his hands and sighed. "Well, looks like the girls are all bonding nicely with their new best friends. They've got their next moves planned out pretty much to the minute."
Willow gave him a friendly nudge in the ribs. "That's good, right? I mean, once we figure out where Buffy's gotten to, we'll have to make our next move and start chasing off after her again, so--"
"We?" Xander smiled weakly. "That includes me, right? So I guess you're the ones who get stuck babysitting the token non-superhero..."
Willow snorted "Don't be silly!" She reached up and took one of Xander's hands, pulling it towards her. "C'mon, Xander. Even if they don't need you, I do."
To Xander's left, outside his field of vision, he heard Kennedy chiming in. "You heard her, Harris. We decided to keep you all to ourselves. Aren't we bad?" She leaned in and took his other hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Xander felt his face growing red, and Willow gave him an anxious look, misreading his expression. "I'm sorry we didn't ask you about it. I just assumed you'd..." She gulped nervously. "It's just that I--I can't do this without you, Xander."
As Xander stammered out a barely intelligible answer, a tinny melody sounded from further down the table. They all turned to look at Mandy, who began fumbling awkwardly in the pockets of her windbreaker.
"Do you mind?" Kennedy glowered. "We were having a moment over here."
"It's okay, Kennedy," Willow replied, letting go of Xander's hand. "It might be someone calling from Westbury. Maybe Miss Harkness, or..." She trailed off, turning to watch as Mandy flipped open her cell phone and raised it to her ear.
"Hello?" Mandy frowned in concentration and listened for a second, then swiveled towards Willow, holding the phone up for her to grab. "It's for you."
Willow took the phone. "Hello, who is this?" She drew in a surprised breath. "Giles? Where are you?" Then she fell quiet and listened intently, her eyes growing steadily wider, the color draining from her face. "Oh my god. Is she okay?"
"Will," Xander hissed. "What is it? What's happening?" He threw down his napkin and started levering himself to his feet. The rest of the table sat frozen, all eyes and ears fixed on Willow.
Willow patted Xander's arm in a calming gesture. After several agonizing seconds, she lowered the phone for a moment, cupping the receiver with her palm. "It's Giles. He's with Dawn," she told them. "And she's okay!" she added quickly, seeing their expressions of concern. Then she returned her attention to the phone, nodding and agreeing and jotting down dates and times and flight numbers on the paper tablecloth.
"Okay, we'll be there," Willow said at last. "Call you in the morning, okay?" She clicked the device shut and then turned towards Xander and Kennedy, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
"Pack your bags, guys. We're going to England."
...........
TO BE CONTINUED IN OUR EXCITING SEQUEL... BAD EUROTRIP!
Previous chapters here.
ACT SEVENTEEN: ARRIVAL
It was nighttime in the hospital. Xander dozed intermittently, half-aware of the soft sounds of the night staff making their rounds, the hushed peeping of the instruments in his new semi-private room--thankfully still private, thanks to the lack of a roommate--and the soft rustle of the curtains over the partially opened window. The temperature outside was still in the comfortable mid-sixties, and Xander had flung aside the sheet on his bed, finding even its thin covering too warm. A light breeze moved through the room like caressing, searching fingers.
Xander became aware of someone standing beside his bed.
The figure was barely visible in the dim light of his hospital room, until his visitor leaned forward into the wedge of light that spilled in from the partially opened door.
It was Willow's face that he saw in the light. She smiled, and a mischievous spark danced in her eyes.
"Hey, Xander." Willow leaned closer, bending over the bed, and she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "You awake?"
"Uh, hey." Xander moved to adjust the sheets, cover himself, and Willow reached out a gentle hand to stop him.
"Ssh. It's okay, Xander." She planted one knee on the bed and scooted forward, positioning herself over his prone body. He saw that the first buttons of her pyjama top were undone, the shirt hanging open. Willow noticed him noticing, and giggled.
"Should we be doing this?" Xander raised his hands, put them to her shoulders. "This always leads to trouble. Also, badness."
Willow drew her other leg up onto the bed and shifted her weight. He felt a warm thigh slide across his chest, feverishly hot even through the thin fabric, and now Willow was straddling him. She reached up and took his hands, guiding them down to the softness of her breasts. "Yes, Xander," she sighed. "Let's be bad."
"Yes... I mean no!" With an effort, he yanked his hands away. "Willow, we can't do this! I mean, what about her?"
"Oh, she doesn't mind." Willow slid herself down his body, reaching backward to grab hold of him. The sensation was so intense it was almost painful, and he gave a helpless gasp. "I think she wants to join in," Willow continued. "Don't you, sweetie?"
A figure stepped forward from the other side of the bed. It was Kennedy, clad in pyjama bottoms and a tight halter top. The fingers of her right hand were tracing nervous circles around her exposed navel. "I don't know, Willow," she said, glancing shyly at Xander. "It's my first time. With a man, I mean."
"Oh, shut up, Kennedy." Willow raised her free hand to Kennedy's face, pulling her head down. Their mouths met in a long, lascivious kiss, Kennedy's tongue stud glinting in the half-light. Willow kept her other hand on Xander, squeezing and relaxing her grip in a slow, steady rhythm, and he groaned in an ecstasy of pain.
"Keep it down, would you? Some of us are trying to read."
He turned his head in the direction of the familiar voice. There in the corner of the room was Spike, shirtless and glowering, a copy of National Geographic propped open in his hand. "Don't make me come over there," Spike said, raising a cautionary finger.
Xander screamed, shrieked with horror like a little girl, and came very abruptly awake.
"Oh Jesus, oh God!" Xander bent forward, clutching his head in his hands, his eye watering as it adjusted to the bright morning light.
"Xander? What is it?" It was Willow, the real thing, sensibly clad in jeans and a modest turtleneck sweater. She put aside the issue of Jane she'd been reading while she waited for him to wake up, and leaned over to make sure Xander was okay. "Were you having a nightmare?"
Xander looked away, trying to hide the color in his cheeks, then realized he'd better turn his whole body while he was at it. "It was him again. It's always him."
"You mean Spike?" Willow ventured, and Xander nodded in the affirmative. "Was it another of those vision-quest things?"
"Oh, hell no." Xander drew in a deep breath, held it, exhaled slowly.
"Uh, okay." Willow shot him a puzzled glance, then stepped away for a moment to collect up the aluminum crutches he'd left propped up against the wall. "So, dream boy, you ready for your morning walkies?"
...........
Xander and Willow maneuvered in silence through the grassy area beside the hospital that had been set aside for the patients. The landscaped area resembled a garden, with a path winding through grass and flowers, and a small brook at the bottom of a sloping hill, but it wasn't quite far enough from the main road to completely mask the sound of traffic.
Willow eyed Xander critically. Over the past week, his injuries had almost completely healed, thanks to a subtle push here and there from her magic, but he still seemed wounded in mind if not body. And he really seems distracted this morning, Willow thought.
"I did a locator spell today," she announced brightly. "And nada. Didn't even show up. Which means they're moving again."
Xander grunted. "Great. Just wonderful. So while we've been stuck here, thanks to me, we've lost track of Buffy and Dawn."
"Oh, no!" Willow pasted on a wide, reassuring grin. "That just means they're moving too fast for me to get a fix on them. Probably in an airplane. I'll be able to pinpoint 'em again when they land. No worries at all. And once Kennedy and the girls get back from the airport with our guests from the Westbury coven, we can start planning our next move." She beamed at him, waited for a reaction, got nothing. "Do you, uh, feel up to the next move?" she prompted.
"I guess so," Xander said, working the crutches around a tricky turn in the pathway. "I'm strong enough to get around on my own, so it's probably time to stop leeching off the hospital's good will. We're lucky they've been generous this long, just because the girls helped fight off the Army of Darkness. If it weren't for that, we'd be relying on all the health insurance I don't have."
"I though you had a medical plan on your construction job."
"Key word there is 'had,' as in 'had a job.' These days, I'm officially a bum and a burden on the state."
"Of course you're not!" Willow insisted. "You've got friends to take care of you. You're not a burden at all."
Xander just grunted in response. Willow bit her lip, stopped walking, forced herself to ask.
"Xander? What's bothering you? Is it something you can talk about?"
Xander sighed, leaning heavily on his crutches. "Sure. I can talk about it. Not sure what good it does." He stabbed a crutch at the ground, leaving a circular hole in the grass. "I've remembered more."
"About your vision?"
"It wasn't a vision. I was there. I was a walking, talking, see-through ghost getting a preview of the afterlife." He continued stabbing at the ground, creating a pattern of little circles in the wet grass. "And Spike and I talked... about a lot of things. Like what a soul really is. Like... Anya."
"Oh." Anya. I guess that is overdue. We've never really talked about her. "Did he, uh, say--"
"She's probably in hell."
This brought Willow up short. "Wh-what makes you think that? Just because you saw Spike--"
"No. Because... Okay, let me start over. I've been having dreams."
Willow crinkled her forehead. "But I thought you said that it wasn't a dream."
"It wasn't. But it felt like one, at the time. And since I woke up, part of me's been trying to convince myself that it was. You know, head trauma, painkillers, hallucinations." He shook his head. "But I keep seeing him. Spike, I mean. He keeps showing up. In my dreams."
"I'm, uh, not getting the connections here."
He sucked in a big breath. "It's like this. Either I really went on some big, supernatural journey, twice, or there's some other reason why my subconscious keeps giving me Spike as a guest-star. And you know, I almost wish that were it. I think I'd rather just admit that I'm the last Scooby to fall for the dangerous allure of Spike's amazing cheekbones, and face a future of marching arm in arm with Andrew in the Pride Parade, than think about some of the stuff we talked about."
"Hey! Watch it there with that 'last Scooby' stuff. I never had the lusty Spike-related thoughts. I mean, gay here!" Willow waved her hands in protest. "I mean, sure there were a couple of times he seemed to be, you know, kind of coming on to me, with the kidnapping thing, and the trying to turn me into a vampire, during which there was a certain... disturbing chemistry--" she stopped. "I'm really not helping here, am I?"
"Big no. Did I tell you that the spirit guide showed up shirtless?"
"I, uh, think you skipped that one." Willow laughed nervously, taking a sudden fascinated interest in combing her fingers through her hair. Okay! Actually starting to wonder here, Xan. "So, uh, what kind of stuff did you talk about? You said... about Anya--"
"Yeah. Anya." He winced. "It's funny, Will. I mean, all these years we've been killing demons and vampires, and I don't think I've ever thought once about what happens to them after that. Or us. And Anya... I never really thought about what her being a demon meant at all."
"What do you mean?"
He fell silent then and resumed walking, concentrating on moving his crutches. Willow idly noted his flexing arms, impressively firm from his construction work. Guess those would be the manly muscles Anya was always talking about.
"Spike said... that souls are like checkbooks," Xander explained, his eyes firmly on the ground as he kept moving. "That everything you do counts, plus or minus."
"Oh. Well, that makes sense, I guess."
"You think? 'Cause you know what scares me? That he knew that, and we didn't. That Anya knew. And we've just being truckin' along thinking that, no matter what we do, we're still the good guys."
"What? Xander, what makes you think that--"
"Because you know, they were demons," he cut her off. "They weren't human. And wherever they are now... they wouldn't even be there if they hadn't tried to help us."
"I don't--I don't really understand what you're saying."
"Forget it. Never mind." Xander turned himself back toward the hospital.
As they began the return trip, a familiar face appeared at the side door that led out from the hospital into the landscaped lawn. "There you are," Kennedy hollered. "Hey, come meet the new guys!"
"Hobbling as fast as I can," Xander grumbled. As if in response, there was a commotion at the door, and they heard a deep, mellifluous, British-accented voice assuring Kennedy that it was no trouble, really, they didn't want to put anyone out. Moments later, Kennedy emerged with two strangers in tow, and with the four younger Slayers bringing up the rear of the train.
As the group entered the garden, one of the newcomers broke away from the pack, striding rapidly towards Xander and Willow. It was a man in his twenties, tall and dark-skinned, with lustrous silver hair and aristocratically handsome facial features. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, flashing a dazzling array of perfect white teeth. "You must be Willow Rosenberg and Alexander Harris. So good to meet you!" He offered his open palm, and when Willow took it, he stooped to plant a quick kiss on the back of her hand.
The second of the new arrivals, a buxom young woman in a windbreaker and baggy pants, caught up to her traveling companion and gave him an affectionate swat on the rear. "Never you mind Roderick. He's always like this. A bit theatrical, you know?" She beamed at Xander. "My name's Mandy. Right pleased to make your acquaintance." Her smile dimmed by just a couple of watts as she turned to Willow and added, "Nice to see you again, Rosenberg."
"Hi, Mandy," Willow replied. "Uh, thanks for coming out here. Are you guys going to be staying at the hospital too?"
"Not on your life," Roderick exclaimed. "Ghastly places. Full of negative energy."
"We've lined up a hostel in town," Mandy elaborated. "Sounds lovely, and they gave us a great rate, given how rotten business has been of late." She gave a toss of her glossy brown hair--quite unnecessarily, in Willow's opinion--and added "Besides, we don't like to be a bother, do we?"
"So," Xander interjected, finally recovering his equilibrium, "you're both, uh, Wiccas then?"
"Witches, if you rather," Mandy laughed. "Good enough for Harry Potter, innit?"
"And you," he asked Roderick, "would be, um, some sort of man-witch?"
Kennedy and the other Slayers had gathered behind their guests, waiting quietly while Xander and Willow made their introductions, and Bet now hopped forward to join the conversation. "Roderick's a warlock!" she exclaimed. "And Mandy has a cat!"
"That's right," Mandy laughed, ruffling Bet's hair with her fingers. "He's what we call a familiar."
Graciela stepped up and caught Roderick's eye, smiling shyly. "Do you have a familiar, Roderick?"
"Why yes I do, Graciela," the warlock grinned. "He's an iguana, though, and he doesn't travel well, so I had to leave him at home."
"Okay, people," Kennedy said loudly. "Let's go get these guys settled in. Bet, Graciela, you wanna help with the bags?" The two young Slayers enthusiastically agreed, and after a final round of pleasantries, Kennedy led her quartet of witches and Slayers back inside the hospital.
Xander and Willow stood for a moment, watching Kennedy and friends disappear through the door.
"Figures it had to be Mandy they sent," Willow grumbled. "Little miss goody two-wands."
"Did you see that guy's teeth?" Xander groaned. "No British guy is supposed to have teeth that good. I think there's something about it in the Magna Carta."
Heaving simultaneous sighs, Xander and Willow began heading back to the hospital. Suddenly, they heard a faint attention-getting cough from close behind them, and Xander almost toppled as he pivoted on his crutches. It turned out to be Neena and Lo, still loitering in the garden after their junior colleagues had left with Kennedy's party.
"Sorry to startle you, Mr. Harris," Neena began.
"Just plain Xander," he answered sadly. "Beaten-up, broken-down, non-magical-power-having Xander."
Neena shook her head, smiling. "Mr. Harris, we just wanted to say that..." she paused, searching for the right words. "We consider you and Miss Rosenberg to have seniority here. We'd never have made it this far if it weren't for your experience and your proven, uh..."
"She means thanks," Lo interrupted. "Thanks for everything." Leaning in close, she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I gotta say though," she said, shooting a quick glance back over her shoulder to make she couldn't be overheard. "I don't think those new guys are real witches."
Willow and Xander exchanged puzzled glances, then burst out laughing. A moment later, Lo and Neena joined in, and the landscaped garden was filled for a while with the sound of easy, affectionate laughter.
...........
It wasn't just her imagination, Dawn decided, as she and Buffy made their way down the echoing tiled hallways of Heathrow airport. Even though it she'd never set foot in the place before today, she felt sure that the airport was unnaturally empty. The plane from New York had been barely half full, the British customs line eerily short, and now she saw that the arrivals area was all but deserted.
She glanced at her watch. Barely forty minutes had elapsed since their plane landed, and the flight itself had arrived ahead of schedule, so it looked like they were going to be clearing the airport in record time.
"What's the matter, Dawnie?" her sister asked teasingly. "You expecting somebody?"
Dawn glanced over her shoulder. Buffy had come to a stop behind her, towing a cart piled with suitcases and luggage. Under her arm was the hardened case which contained the scythe.
"I still can't believe you got that thing through security," Dawn marveled, motioning towards Buffy's case.
"Why not? I hear they even let people transport guns in their checked luggage. Guess they must have figured it was a movie prop or something." Buffy let go of the cart and hoisted the case up onto her left shoulder. "So, you ready for the exciting train ride?"
"I'm kinda tired of sitting down," Dawn sighed. "Can we go up and look in the shops for a bit? I hear they have a British Museum store here."
"There'll be plenty of shops in London," Buffy assured her. "Besides, I think all the airport shops are on the other side of the security gates."
"Can't we just go up and see?" Dawn whined.
"What, with all this luggage? Don't be an idiot." Buffy paused, and her eyes narrowed skeptically. "Hey, are you stalling?"
Dawn gulped. "I, uh... It's not fair!" She pouted, stomped her foot for dramatic emphasis. "Why do we always have to be in such a hurry? You wouldn't even let me talk to that cute guy back at Yellowstone, and..."
"Oh no, not this again," Buffy groaned. "I swear, I should have cut your throat back in Calgary." She grabbed the handle of the cart with her free right hand and set off for the exit that led to the train station, pushing brusquely past Dawn.
As the cart passed by, Dawn leaned over and plucked a small carrying bag off the back. Then she hurried after her sister, unzipping the bag and fumbling inside as she trotted along.
"Won't be long now, Dawnie," Buffy chuckled to herself. "Events are about to start moving a lot more quickly."
Dawn came up alongside her sister, a little behind and to the left. "What did you say, Buffy?"
"I said, uh--" Buffy glanced back, and her eyes widened in surprise, but she had no time to react before Dawn slammed the taser into the vulnerable left side of her torso.
There was a crackle of electricity, and Buffy convulsed, the bulky case tumbling from her shoulder and onto the floor. Dawn jabbed her a couple more times, driving Buffy to her knees, and then she reached inside her carrying bag and extracted a small leather case.
"It's okay, everyone," Dawn announced for the benefit of the concerned strangers she saw approaching from the periphery of her vision. "She's having a seizure, but she's going to be okay. I have her medicine right here."
Dawn laid the leather case open on the floor and extracted a hypodermic syringe, giving the plunger a quick push to drive out any air bubbles, like they always did in the movies. Then she crouched over Buffy, pulled her jacket and the lower edge of her blouse out of the way, and drove the needle into the side of her sister's waist.
She pushed the plunger all the way down, watching the clear yellow liquid as she forced it into Buffy's body. An organic compound, that's what he called it. Muscle relaxants. Adrenal suppressors. He'd been cleaning his glasses, like he always did when he didn't want to make eye contact. No lasting effects. She watched the tube of the syringe, trying not to think about who she was doing this to, and why.
Dawn withdrew the empty syringe and tossed it aside. She reached into her carrying bag again, doing her best not to look at the figure curled on the floor, still twitching from the aftereffects of the taser and the massive overdose of suppressant chemicals.
She found the cell phone and pulled up the number she'd been given almost a month earlier, the day after Sunnydale collapsed into the Hellmouth. The phone rang once, twice, three times. While she listened, Dawn tried to compose herself, swabbing away the tears which had begun welling up in her eyes.
The ringing stopped, and there was a voice. "Rupert Giles."
"Giles." Dawn willed herself to speak slowly and clearly. "It's me. We're already here. We got in early." As she spoke, she shrugged the tension out of her shoulders, hugged one arm around her own waist. Were it not for the splayed form at her feet, a casual observer might have taken her for any teenager making a call to her friends.
The voice on the other end of the phone grew suddenly sharp, intense. "Dawn. Are you alone? Where is she?"
"She's with me." Dawn's eyes flicked over to Buffy's huddled body. She forced herself to stay calm, to sound casual. "You were right, Giles. She's gone all evil. I had to take her down. I'm sorry, I just... there wasn't any more time."
"We're on our way in right now." She heard faint voices in the background--the sound of slamming car doors, the clatter of shoes on concrete. "Dawn. I want you to be extremely careful, do you understand me? You've already taken an enormous risk."
Dawn nodded vigorously, belatedly realizing that Giles couldn't see her make the gesture, and mopped away a fresh stream of tears with her sleeve. Just as she'd opened her mouth to reply, she noticed that Buffy had begun to move. The handful of people who were hovering nearby, anxiously watching the drama unfold, flinched and stepped back when Buffy began to laugh. The sound was cold, mocking, inhuman.
"Hah. Hah hah." Buffy's speech was slurred, but gathering in force. "You stupid little bitch. You think you're dealing with a mere Slayer?"
"Bu... Buffy?" Dawn lowered the cell phone, watching with horror as Buffy dragged herself up into a half-crouch, arms dangling limply at her sides. Her blonde hair swung lazily from side to side as she struggled to rise.
"Your sister's not here right now, Dawnie." The hunched figure turned, fixing Dawn with pitch-black eyes, their pupils monstrously dilated. The lips twitched, forming themselves into a wide smirk. "I thought that her killing you... that would be the shock that finally bound her to me completely. But you know what?" Her sister's body staggered to its feet. "This'll do."
Dawn felt a sudden lurch, then a low, sustained rumbling. The lights flickered; the walls of the arrival hall swayed alarmingly. It's an earthquake, Dawn realized with stunned detachment. Just like we used to have in Sunnydale.
The figure that stood before her sighed with pleasure. It extended its arms out to the sides, fingers splayed, and Dawn thought she could see something strong and dark flowing up from the floor, from the earth, and into Buffy's body. The blackness in Buffy's eyes burned with malice, and her grin widened until it seemed like her face would split in two.
"So long, Dawn. It's been fun playing with you." Buffy bent to pick up the case that contained the scythe, and hoisted it back onto her shoulder. Then, as Dawn looked on in despair, she turned and ran for the exit, faster than any human being could hope to follow.
...........
"I don't get why this can't be on the house," Kennedy grumbled. "I mean, we only saved the whole city. You'd think they'd be willing to comp us."
"It's okay, sweetie," Willow murmured, reaching across the restaurant table to pat Kennedy's hand. "It just means things are getting back to normal at last. Isn't that right, Xander?" She turned to catch his eye. "Xander?"
"Huh?" It took him a moment to parse her question. "Sorry, Will. Guess my mind was kinda wandering." He looked away, turning his attention back to the other end of the table, where the young Slayers were engrossed in an animated conversation with the two British witches.
The TGI Friday's had only just reopened for business, and evidently the residents of downtown Buffalo were still in the process of returning from their temporary evacuation, because they had the restaurant almost to themselves. As a result, their companions evidently felt free to discuss the finer points of magic and monster-slaying at full volume, and Bet and Graciela were currently squealing over a present that the newcomers had brought along from England.
"There's really an official Slayer Handbook?" Neena asked curiously, her words muffled somewhat by an unhealthy mouthful of fried mozzarella. "Nobody ever said anything about a handbook."
"Here, check this out!" Graciela exclaimed, holding the tattered book up for their inspection. "Correct staking stances, with diagrams and everything." She giggled incredulously. "This crap goes on for, like, ten pages."
"Take a look at page seventy-six," Roderick suggested. "The duties of a Slayer as regards her Watcher. I imagine you'll find it quite amusing." He leaned back, grinning, his eyes flicking for a second toward the senior end of the table.
Bet thumbed through the pages. "A Slayer must be respectful of her Watcher, and heed his advice at all times and in all matters, defib... deferring always to his superior wisdom and experience..." She shook her head in amused disbelief. "Gee, I wonder who wrote this?"
"You'll note," Mandy added dryly, "that the Watcher is presumptively male."
"Of course," Lo replied, straight-faced. "Otherwise she'd be a Watchette." She held her composure for a moment, then dissolved in helpless laughter, and the other girls swiftly joined her.
As the hilarity died down, Graciela craned her neck to peer over Mandy's shoulder. The chestnut-haired witch was tapping away at her laptop computer. "What's that you're working on?" Graciela asked.
"Oh, just a little something I've been putting together." Mandy swung the laptop around so that the girls could see the screen. "See, this map shows the distribution of active Slayers in the North American region, according to the seers in Devon. And this," she said, nudging the keyboard with a manicured fingernail, "is a quantitative index of urban incident reports--fires, murders, riots, large-scale vandalism--culled from the news feeds. If we overlay them thus..." The girls oohed and aahed, and Mandy beamed with poorly disguised pride.
"So," Lo ventured, eyes on the screen, "if we can figure out where the other Slayers are, and where The First is using them to carry out its evil plans..."
"Then we can tackle them in order," Neena concluded. "We can make an initial foray into Albany, say, or Toronto, someplace where it's not that bad yet..."
Roderick grinned. "And if we can find these Slayers, and free them from its control, then we'll also be increasing our own numbers."
"Exponentially," Mandy added helpfully.
"How about New York City?" Bet piped up. "I always wanted to go there!" She flushed with excitement. "I hear they have horse carriages in Central Park."
"Forget the horsies! I wanna see the Empire State Building. And the Statue of Liberty. How cool would it be if we got to climb that?" Lo enthused, pointedly ignoring Graciela's shudder of dread.
At the far end of the table, camouflaged behind stacked plates of picked-clean barbequed ribs and lonely crumbs of breaded shrimp, Xander rested his chin in his hands and sighed. "Well, looks like the girls are all bonding nicely with their new best friends. They've got their next moves planned out pretty much to the minute."
Willow gave him a friendly nudge in the ribs. "That's good, right? I mean, once we figure out where Buffy's gotten to, we'll have to make our next move and start chasing off after her again, so--"
"We?" Xander smiled weakly. "That includes me, right? So I guess you're the ones who get stuck babysitting the token non-superhero..."
Willow snorted "Don't be silly!" She reached up and took one of Xander's hands, pulling it towards her. "C'mon, Xander. Even if they don't need you, I do."
To Xander's left, outside his field of vision, he heard Kennedy chiming in. "You heard her, Harris. We decided to keep you all to ourselves. Aren't we bad?" She leaned in and took his other hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Xander felt his face growing red, and Willow gave him an anxious look, misreading his expression. "I'm sorry we didn't ask you about it. I just assumed you'd..." She gulped nervously. "It's just that I--I can't do this without you, Xander."
As Xander stammered out a barely intelligible answer, a tinny melody sounded from further down the table. They all turned to look at Mandy, who began fumbling awkwardly in the pockets of her windbreaker.
"Do you mind?" Kennedy glowered. "We were having a moment over here."
"It's okay, Kennedy," Willow replied, letting go of Xander's hand. "It might be someone calling from Westbury. Maybe Miss Harkness, or..." She trailed off, turning to watch as Mandy flipped open her cell phone and raised it to her ear.
"Hello?" Mandy frowned in concentration and listened for a second, then swiveled towards Willow, holding the phone up for her to grab. "It's for you."
Willow took the phone. "Hello, who is this?" She drew in a surprised breath. "Giles? Where are you?" Then she fell quiet and listened intently, her eyes growing steadily wider, the color draining from her face. "Oh my god. Is she okay?"
"Will," Xander hissed. "What is it? What's happening?" He threw down his napkin and started levering himself to his feet. The rest of the table sat frozen, all eyes and ears fixed on Willow.
Willow patted Xander's arm in a calming gesture. After several agonizing seconds, she lowered the phone for a moment, cupping the receiver with her palm. "It's Giles. He's with Dawn," she told them. "And she's okay!" she added quickly, seeing their expressions of concern. Then she returned her attention to the phone, nodding and agreeing and jotting down dates and times and flight numbers on the paper tablecloth.
"Okay, we'll be there," Willow said at last. "Call you in the morning, okay?" She clicked the device shut and then turned towards Xander and Kennedy, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
"Pack your bags, guys. We're going to England."
...........
TO BE CONTINUED IN OUR EXCITING SEQUEL... BAD EUROTRIP!