Disclaimer: Daria and Jane were created by Glenn Eichler; Buffy et al were created by Joss Whedon; Lynette Vaughn was created by me."
X X X X X
No one said anything. Lynette Vaughn could have, but it wasn't her place to do so.
"Well?" Jane asked. "Daria, at first I thought this penchant for secrecy was amusing. Now I'm worried about whether I'm about to be killed by Mafia assassins."
"The good news," Daria said, "Is that there are no mob hit men. The bad news is that it's still not my secret to give away. Not without permission." She looked over at Buffy. "Under the circumstances, do I have permission?"
Spike said sarcastically, "Sure, tell her. And while you're at it, why don't we rent out a bloody billboard in Times Square?"
Okay, enough was enough. Possibly it was the irritation, possibly it was the nerve-wracking events of the last two hours, or possibly a simple accumulation of everything that had occurred in the last few days, but that was it. "Shut up, Spike," Lynette said.
"What?"
Irritation evident in her voice, she said, "I believe the meaning of the phrase is, 'Close your mouth and stop talking.' I believe it is evident to everyone here that you don't like Daria. I believe Willow also isn't fond of her."
"I'm not," Willow said. "Just for the record."
"That was also evident to everyone here," Lynette said. "Except possibly Jane. But you've managed to control your feelings, for the most part. Spike hasn't bothered. Now, I don't care why. I don't care that you think this is some scam she's running; I don't even care if you think she's the antichrist. But I am getting heartily sick and tired of you running her down at every available opportunity. So I'm telling you this once and once only. Knock it off. Now."
"Or what?" Spike demanded. Apparently he thought Lynette was bluffing.
Lynette had dealt with prison inmates who thought they were the biggest, baddest bitches around. She'd even dealt with those who were the meanest bitches around. And one thing she'd learned from handling them: If you make a threat, be prepared to back it up. Not with calls to the warden, or by yelling for the guards. But by yourself. In other words: Don't bluff.
So she wasn't about to back down now. She took a step over until she and Spike were practically face-to-face, noting with a detached amusement that she was actually taller than the vampire, and said, calmly, "Or I will knock your teeth down your throat."
"So what? She needs a protector?" Spike said contemptuously.
"You know what?" Lynette said. "I don't know if she does. She doesn't act like she does. But until she tells me flat out to get lost, she's got one."
"And," Daria said, "Just for the record, I don't plan on saying that for quite a while."
Lynette smiled for a second at her. That was about as affectionate as Daria usually got, and she appreciated it. "So," she said. "Are you going to knock off the cheap shots?"
Spike looked around at the faces of everyone else. Apparently, he didn't like what he saw. A glance showed that, apart from Willow, no one was giving him any support. "Since you've bloody well left me Hobson's choice, I can't damn well watch over the niblet if I storm off in a huff. So okay, I'll shut up while Daria's in earshot. But I don't have to like it."
So saying, he walked off, apparently to cool himself down. Willow followed him.
Damn. She hadn't been sure that would work. Spike didn't strike Lynette as a poseur; he struck her as an honest-to-god badass. But apparently one who'd learned to pick his battles. Just like with Willow, she had no illusions that any underlying issues had been settled. But she was getting sick and tired of his constant sniping. And unlike with Willow, it seemed obvious that it wasn't going to be possible to appeal to Spike's intelligence to get him to lay off. Not that the vampire was an idiot. But, unlike Willow, he didn't have pride in his intelligence.
And the only way to get a genuine big bad to back down is to prove that you were just as willing as they were to fight.
"Okay," Jane said. "Now that we have all of the macho posturing out of the way, will someone tell me what's going on?"
Noticing the flight attendant approaching the nearby podium, Buffy said, with an air of resignation, "Sure. But we might want to wait until we're actually on the plane. This isn't the kind of story that can be easily told in five minutes -- and not when anyone else is around who might overhear us and either call the local mental ward, or even worse, take us seriously."
"Fine," Jane said. "So you're saying I should prepare myself."
"Beyond the wildest dreams of Sick, Sad, World," Daria said.
"I've seen some of their wilder dreams," Jane said. "Are you saying you can top Thomas Jefferson's secret sex journal?"
"Yes."
"Damn, amiga. What are you into?"
"Just wait a few minutes longer. I promise you chills and thrills aplenty."
"I'd make a smartassed comment here, only I'm not entirely sure you're kidding." She went over and sat down. To her credit, she didn't run away.
Then, to Lynette, she said, "I don't say this kind of thing very often. But thank you. Not just for telling off Spike. Which I definitely appreciate, but it wasn't really bothering me all that much. To take an insult seriously you have to have respect for the source. But thank you for the sentiment behind it. It, er, does mean a lot."
"It's like I said. You may not need a protector."
"You know," Daria said hesitantly. "I think I do. For all that I'm 20, I only have the life experiences of a 16-year old. My intellect helps me deal with a lot. But, although I like to think I could deal with life on my own if I had to, it's nice not to have to." Then she smiled faintly. "Normally, this is where people hug."
"I wouldn't dream of trying," Lynette said. "But I believe that was the verbal equivalent."
X X X X X
The Divine Glorificus woke up on an airplane.
In first class, naturally.
Well, she deserved it.
Doc was also there.
None of the minions were. Maybe somewhere along the line they'd bought a clue or two. Though more likely Doc had just threatened them with the wrath of her.
"I presume you would like an update of the situation, divine one?" Doc asked.
"You got it."
"I'll tell you the good news first. Ben has agreed to stop fighting us. He liked the idea, I suspect, of living his own life." This was good; at least she wouldn't have to worry about him throwing himself off of a building, or something just as stupid.
Like he had the guts to do it. But still, it was better that he not even be thinking about it. The sooner they were divided into their component parts, the better.
"The one thing me and Benjy always agreed on," Glory said. "So, how long before we land?"
"Only a few minutes," Doc said. "Obviously, the likelihood of the Slayer and the Key still being in the area are rather small."
Glory shrugged. "Then we kill people until someone tells us what we need to know. I don't see what's so hard about that."
"Because, divine one," Doc said quietly, "As I have pointed out, you may be the strongest being on this world, but even you would find it hard to slaughter your way across half a continent."
"So what if a few thousand more of these petty creatures get killed?" Glory asked.
"In the overall plan, very little," Doc admitted. "But in terms of drawing attention to yourself, divine one, it is probably something to avoid. Also, along that line of thinking: It might be a good idea for us not to speak so openly of killing -- I'm guilty of this myself. But right now, we are trying to avoid such attention."
"Whatever," Glory said. She was getting a little tired of Doc's insistence on this, honestly, but she'd play it his way for now. She needed him and his spells to be able to get back home. "I gotta say, though, I'm getting pretty damn sick of caring about what other people think."
"We don't. But we do care about what they do."
The descent into St. Louis lasted another 15 minutes, but to Glory it felt like hours. Every second was one less second she had to get home.
One more second closer to merging permanently with Ben.
The Slayer's flight would have landed two hours ago.
Well, she knew this much. The bitch had damn well better have left a clear trail like she did from LA to here, or she didn't care how bad it looks, she was going to start killing people until they told her.
A confused flight attendant came through, probably looking for Ben, but one look at Glory's face told them they'd be better off not saying anything, so, showing more brains than most of the people on this pathetic dirtball, they left her alone.
By the time they finally left the plane Glorificus was in a foul mood. The minions apparently sensed this and stayed away -- since when had they grown brain cells? -- and none of them tried to talk to her. Doc did, but then he was the only one of her followers who wasn't routinely annoying. Or good for more than cannon fodder.
Her mood improved slightly when she saw the person standing there as they exited the plane. AS big dumb-looking guy, but he was holding up a sign that read "Glory." "Yeah," she said as she and Doc walked over to the man. "I'm Glory."
"Good," the man said. "A girl named Buffy told me to tell you that she and her friends are on a flight to Baltimore, and that they'll wait for you there."
"Yeah?" Glory said. "Prove it."
"What?" the man asked. "All I can tell you is what she told me. Wait for a woman named Glory getting off the plane from Los Angeles and tell you that she and her friends were going to Baltimore -- and that they have your key with them, if you still want it."
"You bet your ass I want it," Glory said.
Doc said, "Thank you," and the man left.
"Do you believe him?"
"I do," Doc said. "The Slayer has every incentive to keep us following her. It minimizes the -- collateral damage. Remember, divine one. She cares about the other people on this planet, while you and I know better."
"Grrrr!" she growled. "That means we have to wait another several hours in a damn plane. And I'm hungry."
Doc smiled. "I said you shouldn't kill," he said. "I never said you shouldn't feed."
X X X X X
The plane to Baltimore was approximately half-full. They all sat together towards the back, and there were a couple of rows between them and the nearest other group of passengers, except for one woman, who fell asleep before takeoff.
Most of them also tried to catch up on desperately needed sleep -- Buffy and Daria might be capable of doing without, and Spike to some extent, but the rest of them were only human. "Even me," Anya had said, somehow managing to grumble and yawn at the same time.
While the same held true for Jane Lane, she was apparently too wired to fall asleep. Buffy and Daria quietly told her as much as they thought she could handle. By the time they were done, it was 5:30 AM, everyone else but Spike was out, and the first words out of Jane's mouth were, "Actually, I do think I saw that on an episode of Sick, Sad World."
Buffy blinked, apparently unused to Jane's odd sense of humor, but Daria simply said, "Could be. I was otherwise occupied for several years."
"Of course you were," Jane said. "Being buried in your own psyche gives you a handy excuse."
"Although not one for all occasions."
"True. 'Sorry I missed the inauguration, Mr. President, but I literally wasn't myself at the time."
"I haven't been able to catch up on politics," Daria said. "Would I be sorry?"
Before Jane could answer, Buffy asked, "Seriously. This is your reaction? We tell you vampires and magic and werewolves are real and you react by bantering?"
Jane shrugged. "It's how I react to pretty much everything," she said. "But if you're asking, am I okay with what you've told me, I believe the answer is in an unqualified are you out of your mind? But I did ask. So if part of me is quietly gibbering in terror while sucking my thumb, I have only myself to blame."
"At least it's not the part on the outside."
"True. It might make the other passengers nervous." Then, in a deadly serious voice, she said. "You're not kidding."
"We're not kidding," Buffy said.
"And you're not completely insane?"
"That part's still open to debate," Daria said. "But, if we are, this isn't a symptom."
"Do you have any proof?"
Buffy said, "They always ask for proof," then looked over at Spike.
The vampire said, "I'm not a bleedin' show pony. And this is the wrong place and the wrong time. I don't fancy learning to fly."
A valid point, Daria had to admit. A sudden showing of Spike's vampire visage could panic the other people on the plane. And, while it might be amusing to see hysterical people running around a plane, it was probably counterproductive to their long-term goals.
"That leaves you and me," Daria said.
"I don't think it's anymore the right time and place for a demonstration of combat techniques," Buffy said.
"I wasn't thinking of that," Daria said. "I was thinking more of something that other people can't see."
"Flail or hammer?"
"The hammer's more impressive."
"True." Willow had warned them that the Tarnhelm effect would expire not long after they landed in Baltimore. They should be able to make it out of BWI, failing another gauntlet of Knights of Byzantium out to kill Dawn. "But the flail's less likely to break her arms."
"Also true," Daria admitted. The flail, while a solid weapon, was within the range of unenhanced human ability to pick up. Olaf's hammer required superhuman strength.
"Okay, Jane," Buffy said. "We have something to show you. Actually, we have something not to show you. Hold out your hands . . ."
