Willow looked out the window, absent-mindedly snapping the CD case open and shut. She heard the captain say that they were at cruising altitude and free to move around the cabin. She unhooked her seatbelt and pushed herself up, peering over the back of her seat. The flight was packed. There was Xander in the rear of the plane, squished in between two strangers. A few rows up, Buffy and Dawn were deep in conversation. She turned back around and looked for Tara, but couldn't see over the seatbacks. Plopping back down into the chair, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time that she should be pleased that there were five seats left on this flight instead of lamenting the fact that they couldn't sit together.
Well, two of the five seats were together. She had held her breath when she floated that fact out to the group, hoping Tara would volunteer to be her on-board buddy. Dawn had offered to sit alone. However, Tara had suggested that Dawn and Buffy should sit together. Dawn's jutting chin had announced her outrage at the implication she needed supervision. But then Tara had leaned in toward Dawn and in a whispery voice explained that it was for Buffy's sake and how Dawn needed to be strong for her. "Oh." Dawn had said as she straightened up. "Yeah, Buffy and I should sit together." Willow smiled at the memory. That gentle touch with everyone was one of the things that had drawn her to Tara.
But her doubty side couldn't help wondering if Tara hadn't been a little too quick to suggest it. Maybe she didn't want to sit close to her. So close that their hands might brush; their knees touch. A smile played around her lips. Maybe Tara would get sleepy, rest her head on her shoulder, all snuggly. Willow shook her head clear. How could she be selfishly pining for Tara when Giles was missing and probably in danger or worse?
"Do you need anything while I'm up? Pillow? Blanket?" asked a male voice.
Willow realized that the middle-aged man who had the seat next to her was standing with the overhead compartment open and directing the questions to her. "Um, can you see a laptop computer bag? That's mine. Thanks."
"You're welcome." He handed it to her, closed the bin and walked up the aisle.
Willow set her computer up on the tray table, digging around in a pocket for headphones before popping the CD in. It was the first mixed disc that Tara had given her. So many firsts. She planned to let it run in the background while she studied newspaper articles she had downloaded about recent unusual phenomena in the Bath area. But as the notes started, she just stared out the window.
[up on the airplane/ nearer my god to thee/ i start making a deal/ inspired by gravity]
[if i did wrong i won't do it again/ cause i can be sweet and good and nice/ and if i had enemies they're friends/ i'll hold to my life with the grip of a vice]
Just then she felt a tap on the shoulder. The middle man was still gone. It was the woman from the aisle seat. She nodded toward the aisle. Tara was standing there. Willow pulled out her earphones.
"May I join you?" asked Tara with a hint of a smile.
"Yes! Uh, no. See, there's this guy sitting here. Well, not right now - now, but it's his seat."
Tara listened with a serious look on her face, nodding. "Actually, he's sitting in 11C right now. Seems kinda happy with that aisle seat. So that makes this the only one available."
The grin on Willow's face was so wide her cheeks hurt. And still she couldn't stop.
"I'll take that as a yes."
The woman swiveled her knees out into the aisle and Tara maneuvered past, settling into the seat. She picked up the CD case and smiled at Willow.
"Which song are you listening to?"
Willow swallowed, finding it hard to speak. "Airplane."
Tara smiled a bit wider. "Indigo Girls." She reached her hand out to tuck a lock of hair behind Willow's ear.
"Yes," squeaked Willow. She wanted to ask Tara a hundred questions, starting with how much significance should she read into this seat exchange, but a tiny persistent voice of reason told her less was more. From a pocket of the laptop bag, she pulled out a splitter and another pair of earphones and offered them to Tara. As she reached out to accept them, their fingers brushed and Willow felt an electric thrill run through her.
[i never should have read my horoscope/ or the fortune on the bubble strip/ saying what you think won't happen will/ a great thing to read before a trip/ on an airplane]
Buffy knew she should try to get some sleep. There would be little time or inclination to rest once they got to England. But her mind was too full. Of annoyance with Spike. Of worry for Giles. She stared out the airplane window and tried not to think.
"He's probably fine," came the voice from the seat beside her.
Buffy turned to look at Dawn, who was wearing her best 'honest, I'm not worried' face.
"I mean, all we know is that he's not where he's supposed to be, right?" she continued.
"It's a little more than that, Dawn," said Buffy. "He was in his house, then he wasn't. That's not just missing. That's disappearing."
"Well, then, that's magic, right? You know how to fight against magic. You've done it before."
Buffy turned back to the window. "I've fought it before when Giles was there to tell me how. Now..."
"But you said he left because he thought you could handle things yourself now. That is why he left, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?" Buffy turned back to look at Dawn.
"Nothing." She was staring down at her shoes.
Buffy reached over to stroke Dawn's hair, leaning down to look in her eyes. "He didn't leave because of you, if that's what you're thinking. He left because he didn't think I needed a Watcher anymore. Guess he was wrong for once."
"But you're doing okay. You're paying the bills. We still have the house. The child welfare people aren't bothering you anymore. And you've stopped demons and curses since Giles left."
"Minor stuff, mostly. And a lot of it was conjured by those three lame idiots. Who I still can't find. How am I supposed to find whatever took Giles? What if I can't?" The terror she felt when she first heard the news began to rise in her again. If she couldn't find him, if she failed him...
"Of course you'll find him. You're Buffy. That's what you do."
Buffy squeezed her sister's hand. "Remind me of that a few more times when we get there, O.K.?"
"Sure. Besides, we've got The Dream Team back together, don't we? We can't lose."
Buffy craned her neck to look at the others. "I hope so..."
Xander stretched his neck as high as he could to see over the long line of seats ahead of him, in an attempt to find Buffy, Dawn, Willow and Tara. He could just make out the glint of Buffy's blonde hair up by the cabin and then saw Willow reach up to take her computer case from some man up by the wings.
"Oh yeah, let the man sit all by himself in the back for the 9 hour plane flight. It's okay. No big deal." Xander muttered under his breath and popped open the small shiny bag of complimentary peanuts. He smiled apologetically at the woman sitting to his right when his elbow jabbed her in the side from jerking open the bag. A few minutes later he was saying sorry to the elderly gentleman on his left when he crushed the man's elbow with the armrest. Xander moved his hips to get more comfortable, and found there was absolutely no wiggle room. He tried to lean back, but found that the back of his seat was too close to the wall to allow for reclining. Next he tried stretching out his legs, but a briefcase already occupied the space under the seat in front of him. Reaching up, he pushed the "call" button again.
A sing-songish male voice attached to an effeminate male figure responded, "What can I help you with now sir?"
"Are you sure there's no other seats on the plane? Not even one?"
Condescendingly, the steward answered, "I'm sorry sir, but as I explained before we are booked solid for this flight. Is there something I can get you to make you more comfortable? Headphones for the movie, a pillow, a blanket, a beverage?"
"No, thank you," Xander peered at the steward's nametag, "Samuel. I'll just sit here crunched and uncomfortable for the next 9 hours." Xander gave Samuel an acid smile as the steward raised a brow and walked away.
Xander began popping peanuts into his mouth, crunching and mulling glumly. I've no one to talk to. Should I be worrying about Giles? I'm sure I should. But I can't stop thinking about Anya. Why did she go to England? Why Giles? They were acting really strange after we lost our memories, all with the extreme avoidance. And how come he didn't come to the wedding? Not even a phone call, just a bunch of flowers. Not that they weren't nice flowers, but... Xander's train of thought stopped as he drifted off to sleep, lulled by the plane's hum, partially chewed peanuts tucked away in one cheek, head drooped onto one shoulder.