Chapter 1

"To dare to live alone is the rarest courage; since there are many who had rather meet their bitterest enemy in the field, than their own hearts in their closet." –Charles Caleb Colton

"And so the lone bus drove onward, a giant Twinkie speeding towards the burning horizon. The passengers—I guess they would be the squishy white cream stuff—sat quietly, for they were exhausted after such a great and triumphant battle. I myself was a proud and obviously brave part in the fight against the ultimate evil, which I guess you would call the hungry fat guy trying to chow down on the Twinkie and all its creamy occupants, and—hey, give me that!"

"No way," said Kennedy as she snatched the worn video camera out of Andrew's hands. The Slayer, who sat next to a sleeping Willow, shut the camera forcefully. Andrew flinched, hoping she hadn't broken it.

"Giant Twinkie?" the dark-skinned Slayer sitting behind Andrew questioned. Rona shook her head. "Okay, you need some serious simile help."

"It's a metaphor!" Andrew objected resentfully, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat. Dawn Summers, who sat next to Andrew, offered him a friendly grin.

"I'm no good at English either. I only got a C plus last semester."

Andrew was rather offended by that—his English grades were always at least a B minus! Seeing the resentment in his eyes, Dawn shifted awkwardly away from Andrew and looked out the grimy bus window at the scenery (or lack thereof) quickly rushing past.

Dawn had been, and still was, unsure of how to react to all the things that had happened today. As she watched the sun slowly retreating behind the desert landscape, she wondered if it had really only been one day since they had all walked through the doors of Sunnydale High. It felt like weeks since that had happened. It couldn't have been this morning!

All that Dawn was sure of was that she was way too tired to be thinking about all this now, so she shut off her thoughts and closed her eyes, gladly welcoming the warm unconsciousness that sank over her.

In the meantime, Kennedy fiddled around with Andrew's camera, trying to figure out how to turn the dang thing off. It wasn't working, considering that Andrew's snack food speech was droning on screen again.

Finally she raised the camera up over her head, fully intending on smashing the thing on the ground. Before she could do so, however, a large bump in the road rattled Willow's head against the window and woke her up.

"Here," Kennedy said agitatedly, shoving the camera into Willow's hands sans explanation. "Turn it off."

The redhead witch inspected the contraption a second as she reoriented herself from her nap, nodded a little, and pressed the power button. Andrew's voice stopped immediately, much to the relief of the Slayers seated close.

"I thought we got rid of this already…" she muttered and began to hand it back to Andrew.

A shocking "No!' came from a nearby seat, and in a split second, Rona was sitting back in her seat, camera in hand.

"Unless you wanna be compared to a Ho-Ho, you really don't wanna do that," Rona explained.

"That would be dumb," Andrew pouted, fixing a bitter stare at the back of the seat in front of him. "Willow would be an Oreo anyway."

"Well…thank you," Willow replied hesitantly, glancing at Kennedy. The other girl just shrugged.

---

Half of Alexander Harris was missing. Physically, emotionally. And as much as he tried to ignore it, tried to be happy and joke around with his fellow warriors on the bus, he just couldn't.

His eyesight was half gone. It had been stolen from him a while ago, and though Xander wasn't angry about it much any more, the realization that he would always be this way nagged at his mind, whispered in his dreams. He'd managed to forget it during the battle they'd just fought. But when he was being pulled out and suddenly noticed Anya wasn't with him, he had remembered. And he hated it.

Anya. This he hated even more.

Anya was dead.

There was no other way around that fact. And as he sat on the bus, oblivious to what was going on outside his subconscious, he realized that she had been such a huge part of him throughout the past few years that it felt as if he had left his heart buried in Sunnydale's remains (or lack thereof) with her. And that royally pissed him off, to put it kindly.

So for now he planned to sulk, and he planned to sulk for a long time to come, thank you very much. Sure, he'd fake his happiness for a while if he had to, but until he came to his senses and decided to move on, which didn't seem like a nice idea, he'd be here, wandering around his thoughts, just half of himself. Just half.

---

I bloody hate this fluorescent contraption, thought Giles as he drove the bus over another pothole. He heard a few waking gasps from the people trying to sleep behind him, and was going to shout out an apology, but decided against it. No one really cared, it seemed…

People didn't seem to care about a lot of things these days—not the Scooby Gang, in particular, but people in general. The human race. He'd been listening to the radio, as quietly as possible, and although static was mostly all that talked to him, he had not heard a single thing about the destruction of Sunnydale. And he was sure that someone had realized that there was a gigantic crater in the middle of California by now.

But maybe it was for the better that an investigation hadn't started quite yet. Having enough time to get away and clear themselves of association from the city would be safer for all of them, since they could set up an operation anywhere, at this point.

An operation for what, though? There was no big evil at the moment to conquer, and even if there were Giles would highly consider letting someone else deal with it. He was not about to let this group go through something so traumatic again. Especially Buffy. She'd pulled all of her strength into this battle, and she'd given all of herself to win. How tired she must be…

Heaving a sigh, he wished he could clean his glasses, but driving through a desert didn't really leave him that option. He'd just have to bear with the dust particles for now. Bollocks.

---

"I don't feel like cookie dough any more."

"I…I'm sorry?"

Buffy Summers looked away from the dirt-decorated window to see a rather confused Vi sitting in the next seat over. After a moment of watching the young Slayer Buffy let a small laugh escape her throat. "Oh, sorry, I…I was just thinking of something that happened last night."

"Oh," the girl said. There was another pause, and then Vi looked back at Buffy. "Cookie dough?"

"What happened was…" Buffy struggled to find the words, trying to avoid any mention of another of her vampire boyfriends, "well…let's just say I feel like a burnt cookie. Too long in the oven."

Vi's stare didn't let up for a few more seconds. "Oh," she muttered. "Why cookies? Maybe—"

"Maybe she could be brownies," a voice from ahead interrupted. Buffy looked at the seat in front of her and saw Faith, her arm around a sleeping Robin, her head turned to face them. "They take longer to bake. And we all know B takes longer than most people on that dough stuff."

Buffy smiled, ignoring Vi's growing confusion, and leaned forward a little. "How're you doing?"

Faith smirked and traced her fingers up and down Robin's arm. "Five by five. Ya know."

"How about him?" Buffy looked at the back of Robin's head as it rested on the Slayer's shoulder.

Faith looked down at the dark, sleeping face. "Mm, probably three. Maybe four."

"At least he's getting some rest," Buffy offered, wishing she could sleep as easily as Robin. He'd given them all a good scare earlier, but Giles had said he'd be fine with enough time to heal. Sleep was the best thing for him. It was probably the best thing for everyone, actually, now that Buffy thought about it. But she didn't feel like sleeping—not yet, at least.

Faith snorted. "Dunno how, the way this crap-mobile drives."

"I beg your pardon?" came Giles' voice from the front of the bus, where he'd been driving the vehicle since Sunnydale.

"Not you, G-Man, the bus!" Faith said, sending Buffy a look.

There was no retort from Giles, and Buffy wondered how tired he was. A yawn graced its presence on her mouth as she thought that, and she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. As she closed her eyes she thought again about the talk she'd had with Angel the previous day. About the amulet, about the second front he was probably still planning, about Spike…

She wondered what would have happened if she had gone against Angel's will, if she had used the amulet instead of giving it to Spike. Granted, it would have looked much more stylish on her, but other than that…what would have happened? Would Spike be the one sitting on the bus now, and she'd be the one who burned to death? She tried to push those thoughts out of her head—things had happened the way that they did for some reason or another, maybe, and there's nothing she could do to change it.

As the pleasant stillness of sleep began washing over her, Buffy sighed. She really did feel like she'd spent way too much time in the oven lately.

---

What's this? I'm alive? Yes, it's true. I've just been writing other non-fan-fictiony things for a while now (or sometimes just writing nothing at all). I posted this once, got to the third chapter and gave up. But I've finally decided to bring it back. Hopefully I can keep it up. If you have anything to share; reviews, thoughts, ideas for the plot...I'll take anything!

Thanks for reading. Here we go...lights, camera, action!