In the Space of a Journey
Chapter Five
The Plane
"Ouch! Buffy, be careful with that thing!" Sonya rubbed the back of her head as Buffy continued to adjust her oversized carry-on in the overhead compartment.
"Sorry," Buffy said, finally getting the compartment shut and latched. "You OK?"
"That thing is way heavy," Sonya complained.
"Well, it does contain a small arsenal," Buffy hissed so no one could overhear.
"Let me see," Oz commanded from his seat, giving Sonya a serious look. "You could have been hurt." He and his cast had been firmly ensconced in the first row of first class, so standing up again wasn't really an option. Sonya leaned down to give him access to the bumped portion of her head. She knew that with her enhanced healing abilities, a bump on the head wasn't likely to cause any irreversible damage, but she humored him anyway.
"See anything?" she asked.
"Just your hair."
That surprised a chuckle out of Sonya. Watching the by-play with a "how cute" expression, Buffy laughed as well. Embarrassed, Sonya straightened up, and stepped back into the aisle.
"All right, everybody, listen up!" Her voice and the sharp staccato clapping of her hands made the other five members of the group look at Joyce. She was sitting in the second row next to the window.
"Is something amiss?" Giles asked, craning his head over the back of her seat from his window-side position in the third row.
"No, not at all. I just had a great idea." Joyce brimmed over with enthusiasm.
"We've got a really long flight ahead of us, and I know a way to make things more interesting."
"How?' Xander asked, shutting his own overhead compartment.
"I'm going to set my watch alarm to go off at regular intervals," Joyce explained, "and when it goes off we all switch seat partners. That way we'll all get to sit with everyone. We can alleviate boredom and get to know each other better in one fell swoop. It's killing two birds with one stone!"
"Mom!" Buffy protested in a slightly whiney tone. "I don't think..."
"Nope!" Joyce interrupted. "I'm not going to budge on this. I want to get to know all of you better, and I think some of you want the same thing."
"Whatever we do, you'd better decide quick," Oz said. "Early boarding is about to end."
Maybe it was the threat of incoming passengers to clog the aisles, or maybe it was Joyce's stubborn insistence, but everyone agreed to the idea.
"Good!" Joyce said, smiling. "Now-who's sitting with who?"
"Whom," Giles corrected. Joyce paid no attention.
Buffy took the lay of the land. She, Sonya and Xander were still standing in the aisle, while Oz (who wasn't moving), her mother and Giles were sitting in the window seats. She didn't want to sit with Giles-that was a given. She loved her mother, but she didn't really want to do that either. Xander caught her eye. Buffy knew he was wondering if she wanted to sit with him now so they could have that talk. Panic overtook her, and she blurted, "I'll sit with Oz!" Following action to words, she dove into the seat next to the taciturn boy with the broken leg, despite unhappy looks from both Xander and Sonya.
"Running away doesn't help," Oz commented softly as Buffy fussed with her seatbelt.
"I know, I know," Buffy replied just as quietly. "But I'm just not quite ready to face him yet. And it's not like there isn't plenty of time."
"Will you be ready before the end of the flight?"
"I sure hope so." Wanting to turn the spotlight off of her love life, Buffy grinned at Oz and said, "But now that I've got you here, and you can't move, I want to know all the juicy details about you and Sonya..."
From behind them, Joyce could be heard, saying, "Sonya, sweetie, why don't you sit by me? We've really never had much of a chance to chat."
"Um... OK," Sonya agreed.
"I guess that leaves us together, G-Man," Xander said unnecessarily.
"Oh, joy," Giles muttered. "And how many times have I asked you not to call me that?"
Xander rolled his eyes, and Sonya gave him a sympathetic look. His look contained answering sympathy, and for a minute it was like old times. Then the awkwardness took over again, and they both slid into their seats.
Sonya looked over at Joyce, who was smiling sweetly. She tried to smile back, but was afraid it looked pained. Joyce seemed oblivious. She reached into her purse and pulled out a red, plastic box.
"How about a game of travel checkers?" Joyce asked with a big grin. "They're magnetic!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A Fancy Club in London
Aidan just didn't know how Doyle managed it. It was after 11 p.m. and the half-demon was still drinking like there was no tomorrow. Aidan glanced at his watch again and sighed. 11:08 p.m. He thought about the appointment he had with some members of the Watchers Council at the crack of dawn tomorrow and frowned. He wasn't going to get to sleep anytime soon at this rate.
"Doyle, are you ready to leave this 'interesting' establishment yet?" Aidan asked with more than a trace of annoyance in his voice. He drummed his fingers on the table top restlessly.
"Nah, ye can go if ye want, but I'm stayin' fer awhile. The night is still young, Aidan! Definitely too early ta turn in."
Aidan sighed and stood up. This was beginning to turn into a habit, and not one he was especially fond of. "All right, Doyle. You stay. I'm going to go back to my flat and get some sleep. I have an early meeting with the Council tomorrow." Aidan left a couple of twenty pound notes on the table. "That's for a taxi. Don't spend it on any more to drink," he warned.
"Aye, I won't," Doyle promised, grabbing the money and shoving it into his pocket in a messy wad of bills. "I'll see ya later, Aidan."
As Aidan was turning to leave, he heard a high pitched shriek from across the room. Whirling around, he saw that, even in his inebriated state, Doyle had heard it, too. Signaling for Doyle to follow him, he made his way over to the source of the sound. A group of young adults, not a one of them could be more than twenty years old or so at best, were clustered around a in a circle, laughing. The shrieks continued as Aidan shouldered his way through the group and spotted a young woman laying on the ground, covered with what appeared to be spilled ale.
She was staring down at her ruined dress in dismay.
"I can't believe you did this to me!" the brunette on the ground shrieked loudly. "Look at this dress! It's completely NOT fixable! And it was a Calvin Klein original! Do you have any idea how much my daddy paid for this ensemble?" She snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "No, you probably don't. You probably do your shopping in the English version of a Walmart! But let me assure you, this dress alone, and that's not even including the shoes or the purse, cost more than all of your salaries combined for at least a month! And now it's ruined!"
Aidan tried not to laugh as he realized what was going on here. This spoiled little princess was obviously getting her just deserts. But, always the gentleman, he reached down and offered her his hand. "May I be of assistance, Miss...?"
The girl looked up at him and he was struck by how beautiful her dark brown eyes were. "My name's Cordelia Chase," she said in a slightly pouty tone as she took his offered hand. He quickly pulled her to her feet and gave her a friendly smile.
Suddenly, a voice from behind them asked,"Are ye okay, darlin'?"
Cordelia turned around and came face to face with Doyle, who had just reached the scene. Scrunching her eyebrows together and pursing her lips distastefully, she said, "And just who are you supposed to be? My drunken Irish fairy godmother?"
Doyle's mouth dropped and a dark blush quickly covered his cheeks. "Uh, no... I... erm... I was just..."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Whatever." Dismissing Doyle, she turned and faced Aidan with a sweet smile on her lips. Throwing herself into his arms, she gave him a huge hug and exclaimed, "Thank you so much! You totally saved my life!"
One of the boys from the group she'd been hanging out with rolled his eyes. "It was just a dress. Not life or death or anything." The group slowly dispersed, leaving Cordelia alone with her two new "friends."
Aidan carefully disentangled himself from Cordelia's clutches and smiled somewhat uncomfortably. "Er... no thanks are necessary, I assure you, Miss Chase."
"Please," she cried, waving her hand absently, "Call me Cordelia." Aidan nodded. "And you may call me Aidan." Gesturing in Doyle's direction, he added, "Oh, and this is my friend Doyle."
Cordelia frowned. "You two know each other?" she demanded incredulously. She looked Doyle up and down, noting his unkept appearance and less than up to date fashion sense. Then her eyes turned to Aidan's nice suit and tie. "Unbelievable."
Doyle pulled Aidan to the side as Cordelia was looking over her stained dress with a napkin, all about damage control. "Man, I think I've seen her before!"
Aidan frowned. "What do you mean? Is she your friend or something? Because she didn't act like it."
Doyle shook his head. "No, but I have seen her before. I know it. I just can't quite place her face." He gave Aidan a determined look. "But I will. Just give me time."
"And some coffee," Aidan muttered under his breath.
Cordelia coughed to get their attention. Then, sighing a long suffering sigh, she seemed to come to some kind of decision. "I suppose you two can have the privilege of escorting me back to my hotel." She eyed Doyle warily. "But you just keep your distance, pal." Then, giving Aidan a brilliant smile, she took his arm and led him to the door of the club.
"Now Aidan, I assume you'll be paying for our taxi..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Plane
"Nope."
Buffy rolled her eyes at her seatmate. "Yep. Nope. That's all you've said this whole time, Oz! Aren't you going to tell me anything about you and Sonya?"
"What's to tell?" Oz sat back in his seat comfortably and sipped the soda that had been brought earlier by an obliging flight attendant.
"That's what I've been TRYING to find out!" Buffy groaned in frustration.
"Something wrong up there?" Sonya called from her seat behind Buffy.
A little embarrassed, Buffy answered, "No!"
Oz slanted a look at the Slayer. "You can get more volume on your nosy questions if you speak from the diaphragm."
"Come on, Oz!" Buffy begged, this time keeping her voice down to a low decibel.
"I just want to know if you two are headed toward couple- dom any time soon. I'm one of your best friends. If you can't tell me, who can you tell?"
"Why do you want to know so badly?" he asked.
"Like I said, we're friends. It's my job to know these things. And besides, I've got to know that someone's love life is working out, even if only for the vicarious thrills."
Oz took pity on Buffy and decided to answer her question. "OK, I'll tell you one thing."
Buffy leaned forward eagerly. "I'm all ears."
"I like her."
She waited for a second, and when no more words were forthcoming, she demanded,
"That's it? I already knew that!"
Oz shrugged.
Buffy finally gave up, and settled back in her seat. "Well, I'll tell you this. I think Sonya likes you. In my opinion, she likes you more than she realizes."
"I thought I heard my name up there," Sonya called again. "Are you guys talking about me behind my back... erm... in front of my face, but behind a chair... oh, nevermind!" She paused before repeating, "But are you talking about me?"
Then a shrill beeping sound erupted from Joyce's watch.
"SWITCH!" Sonya yelled at the top of her lungs, startling the other passengers in first class. But she ignored all the odd looks she was getting, and moved to stand by Buffy. "I'll take your seat."
"Is my mom that bad of a seat buddy?" Buffy whispered. Sonya looked Buffy straight in the eye. "She had... magnetic... checkers." Buffy nodded knowingly, surrendering the seat to Sonya. "Well, you two have fun." She was about to sit down next to her mother, when Xander sprang from his seat and dived into the chair next to Joyce. Buffy gave him an odd look.
Xander gazed up at her with horror-filled eyes. "It's your turn."
"My turn to what?" Buffy asked, unable to hide a small smile.
"To sit with Giles!" Xander shivered, as if the memory were too much for him. "I can't do it again... I just can't."
Buffy moved toward the last remaining seat. (How bad could it be?) she asked herself. Sitting down, she gave Giles a smile. "What's up?" Giles pulled a thick, old book out of his briefcase and placed it in her lap. She could feel its weight all the way down to the soles of her feet. Buffy looked at him mutely.
"It's the Slayer's Handbook," Giles explained grimly. "I've never given it to you before, as you are more of a visual learner, and we have been rather busy of late. But I think that... before our meeting with the Council... you should bone up a bit."
Staring at the book in horror, Buffy glared at the back of Xander's seat.
(I'm going to get you for this, Xander!)
Meanwhile, Xander was looking at Joyce with much the same distaste Buffy had show to the book. "What was that?" he asked, hoping he had misheard.
Joyce grinned at him, shaking a red, plastic box. "I have travel checkers."
He hadn't misheard. Xander shot her a disbelieving look, to which she replied cheerfully, "They're magnetic!" (There's got to be a way to get out of this) Xander thought frantically. (Think, man, think!) Then a brilliant idea struck him. He grinned, and reached into his pocket to pull out a small, rectangular box. Joyce's eyes widened as she recognized it as a deck of cards.
"Checkers are for kids, Mrs. S.," Xander said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How about a game of poker?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Aidan's Flat
Doyle followed Aidan through the darkened flat, wincing in sympathy as he heard his friend yelp in pain when his knee struck the side of a wooden chair that had been left in the middle of the floor.
"Sorry about that," he mumbled.
Aidan finally reached the light switch and flipped it on, whirling around to face Doyle with an angry expression on his face. "I thought I told you to clean this place up today!" he practically growled, his patience stretched to the limit. "It's not like you had anything else to do while I was at work!"
Doyle held up his hands in surrender, backing away from the angry Watcher. "I know ye did, man, and I meant ta do it..." Seeing that this wasn't making Aidan any happier, Doyle hastened to add, "But I'll straighten the place up right now, Aidan." As he began to pick up the various articles of clothing and junk strewn around the living room, he looked up at Aidan with a small smile. "See? I'm cleanin' now." He moved the chair back into its rightful spot by the kitchen table. "Witness me cleanin' up the joint."
Aidan sighed and walked into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Doyle winced. Setting down his arm load of stuff in a pile on the floor, Doyle collapsed on the couch. "I'll finish the straightenin' in the mornin'," he murmured to himself as he drifted off to sleep.
Snuggling into a comfortable position on the couch, he yawned sleepily. "I'll do it in the mornin'..."
Seconds later, Doyle was fast asleep and snoring lightly. He didn't move for a long while. And then...
Images pounded through Doyle's brain, one after another. His body jerked to a sitting position on the couch, though his mind was still in that other place. Fighting the pain that each flash caused him, Doyle struggled to make sense out of what he was seeing. A face... Cordelia Chase... looking as if she had never been more terrified in her entire life... A man with a gun... A scream... The gun was pointed at Cordelia... Tears leaked out of her eyes and her breath came in soft pants... A loud bang... A bullet piercing flesh... Another scream... Blood... It's bright crimson stickiness matting a girl's brown hair... Doyle opened his eyes with a start, placing his hand to his throbbing skull.
It was still dark outside.
"Oh, no... Cordelia..." Doyle whispered. "Lass, what kind of trouble have ye gotten yerself into now?"
Doyle didn't bother waking Aidan up. The man needed his sleep. Besides, he probably wouldn't believe him anyway. He'd just say that Doyle was exaggerating things. Especially after the bust his last vision had turned out to be. Two months was a long time to wait with no results.
Careful not to make any noise, Doyle pulled on his shoes and grabbed his leather jacket, heading for the door. As he sprinted down the stairs of Aidan's building and hailed a taxi, he just hoped that he was going to make it to Cordelia's hotel in time...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Plane
"Honey, aren't you supposed to be reading that book?" Joyce looked at the closed Slayer's Handbook on Buffy's lap.
Buffy rolled her eyes at her mother. "I thought when I got away from Giles things would be better..." she said, only half teasing.
"Sorry, honey," Joyce answered. "I didn't mean to be a nag. I just want you to be as prepared as you can be when we get to this compound. I want you to show those Watchers that you are the very best Slayer you can be."
In front of Buffy, Xander's cards zipped as he shuffled them again. Then he laid them out in a familiar solitaire pattern. He glanced over at Oz in frustration. The boy was asleep-either that, or he was meditating with his eyes closed. With Oz, you never knew.
(And to think that I thought sitting with Oz would be fun) Xander grumbled inwardly. (My age, my foot! He's some kind of cryptic Immortal caught in a teenaged body. And what's with the silence thing? From a distance it seemed the epitome of cool-now, I think it's just boring! The most fun I've had on this stupid flight was playing poker with Mrs. S., and she was creaming me!)
The now-familiar beeping sound of Joyce's watch startled Xander out of his irritated meditation. He quickly swept his cards back into their box and yelled, "SWITCH!" Buffy and Sonya were on their feet immediately. They looked at each other. Then they looked at their companions.
"I think we've exhausted all these seating possibilities," Xander announced.
"One of you guys is going to have to move if we're going to continue this... game."
"Mom," Buffy suggested in a mild tone, "why don't you go sit with Giles?"
Joyce gathered her things together and made the move cheerfully. "Sounds good to me. I will be glad for some adult conversation. No offense, guys."
"None taken," Buffy replied. Then she looked at Sonya and Xander. The three glanced at each other, and then at the seats. There weren't many options left. Then Sonya plopped down next to Oz.
"Hey!" Buffy protested. "You already sat with Oz."
"We've all already sat with Oz," Sonya pointed out matter-of-factly.
"She has a point," Xander noted. Then he gestured to the two remaining seats.
"Window or aisle?"
Buffy slid into the window seat quietly. Xander sat down next to her. In front of her, Buffy could hear Sonya and a newly-awakened Oz murmuring. Behind her, she could make out bits and pieces of her mother's conversation with Giles. Between herself and Xander, silence reigned.
"So..." Buffy said finally.
"So..." Xander replied. They looked at each other.
"Well?" Buffy prompted. "You're the one who wanted this little chat. Should we just jump into it, or should we have some small talk first? I could borrow the magnetic checkers from Mom."
"Please, no!" Xander shuddered.
Buffy watched him shift uncomfortably in his padded seat. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes. That made her remember the expression on his face that morning at the library. "How are you doing, Xander? For real, I mean, not just small talk. You haven't quite seemed yourself today."
"It was a rough morning," Xander admitted.
Nothing else seemed forthcoming. Buffy remembered this. Sometimes, he would look so sad or so mad, but he'd just clam up. She'd never been able to get him to open up when he was like this. But somehow, she couldn't stop trying.
"Was it something at home?" she asked. "You know... even after all this time, I don't know much about your family." Buffy knew there were problems in the Harris household, but the only time he'd ever actually talked about it, his mission had been to convince her mother to let him stay overnight because Willow and Spike had been waiting for him outside. She'd told him to make something up, and after that, she'd never known how much of the story was based in reality. And when she'd tried to find out, Xander always changed the subject.
"It's nothing for you to worry about," Xander answered.
Buffy reached out and touched his arm. "You can tell me..."
"I don't want to talk about it!" Xander replied, pulling his arm away and staring at the back of Sonya's seat.
Glaring, Buffy spoke through gritted teeth. "You never want to talk about whatever it is that makes you look so sad that I hurt inside. I worry about you, damn it!"
"You do?" Xander looked deep into her eyes.
"Of course, I do." Buffy stared right back, never wavering. "We may have our problems, but I'll never stop caring."
"If I were going to talk to anyone about it, Buffy, it would be you. But right now... I just... I just can't. There aren't any words..." His voice cracked, and he stopped talking. He sat still for a moment, concentrating solely on breathing in and out, and controlling the tears in his eyes. But he couldn't control them. Buffy reached up and pulled his head down onto her shoulder, letting him cry there. His emotions came softly, but she could tell they ran deep. If they'd been alone, she knew the storm would have been much louder.
"Shh..." she murmured, stroking his hair with light, gentle fingers. "I'm here, Xander."
"For how long?" he whispered in a voice so soft that she almost didn't hear him. Buffy looked down at the back of his head, noticing how her soft breath lightly ruffled his dark hair. Then, it hit her. She wasn't the only one hurting as a result of everything that had happened with Sonya and Nathan. Of course, she'd known that theoretically, but she had been so focused on her own pain during the last few months that she hadn't even thought about how much it was killing Xander to be so alone. After all, he had not only lost her, but he had also lost his best friend when things between himself and Sonya became so strained. Suddenly, like in one of those revelations that she'd thought only happened in the movies, she realized that, even though it would be hard, she *had* to make things right between herself and Xander. She loved him too much to watch him suffer any longer.
Pulling his face up so that she could look into his eyes, she answered in a soft but determined voice, "For as long as you'll have me, Xander."
He pulled back and looked her in the eyes again as if he couldn't believe what he heard. And Buffy couldn't blame him if he didn't believe her.
After a second, she said, "But if you don't..."
Xander stopped that comment by pulling her into a searing kiss. It was a kiss of pure emotion and a way for them to share that emotion, all wrapped up in one. Then Buffy pushed him away a little. His face fell. This had happened so many times before over the past weeks. This time it had lasted longer, but with the same result. "You're seeing me with her again, aren't you?" he muttered. "Like always. So much for forever."
"No!" Buffy burst out. Glancing around nervously, she lowered her voice, but it was filled with urgency as she continued. "I didn't see you with Sonya. For the first time since that awful night, that image was completely gone.
It was such a shock, I just had to tell you."
Xander looked at her incredulously for a moment, then he pulled her back into his embrace. They hugged tightly. When the embrace loosened, Buffy leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly, feeling better than she had in a long time.
"Never let me go, Xander," she whispered.
Giving her a soft kiss on the crown of her head, Xander simply said, "I love you, Buffy."
"Me, too," Buffy replied. "I love you, too."
A brief smile flashed across his face. "Good."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Watchers Compound
Driving had always been one of Aidan's favorite pastimes. Even the drive from London to the Watchers Compound usually gave him pleasure. But today, it didn't. He spent the whole ride fuming.
"'I'll straighten the place up right now, Aidan!' What a liar!" Aidan's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering while extra-tight -- pretending it was Doyle's neck. "Stupid flat was still just as messy... And that note! 'Aidan, had another vision. Finish cleaning later. Doyle.' What kind of excuse it that? If it were a real vision, maybe, but he hasn't had a vision since he got here, and the other vision sure hasn't panned out..." He sighed-even though the first vision had yet to prove itself, Aidan knew enough to think there was still something to it.
After a pause, Aidan grumbled, "When I get home, I'm just cleaning the place up myself." He cringed as he pictured the heaps of clothes and whatever moldy dishes Doyle had left underneath said piles of clothes and other junk. When Aidan had left that morning, he'd smelled something foul in the living room. The thought made him shudder.
"I little mess I can take, but do I have to live in a sty?" he asked. Then he realized he was talking to himself, and very vividly, too. (Now, he's making me insane as well!) he through with a scowl. (He's like a brother to me, but how much of this am I supposed to take?)
A few minutes later, a suitably calmed down Aidan pulled up to the gate that surrounded the Watchers Compound. During business hours, there was always a guard stationed in the little room next to the gate. Aidan rolled down his window, waved to the familiar man in a gray uniform, and the man pushed the button that allowed Aidan to drive up the long, circular driveway and up to the enormous mansion that made up the bulk of the Compound. Aidan left his car in front of the mansion instead of driving around to the parking lot in the back because he was already almost late. As it was, he would have just enough time to get to get to the upstairs room where his important meeting was to take place.
He made his way upstairs at a sedated trot, and paused outside the door to the Proconsul's suite. Taking a deep breath and smoothing his hair, Aidan knocked briskly on the door and then entered the outer office. He nodded to Marcus Whiteman III, the Proconsul's attache. "Good day, Marcus. Ready for the meeting?"
Marcus looked up from his papers. "Just so, Aidan. Everyone else is already assembled in the lesser council room. Follow me."
Aidan followed obediently. He rarely ever entered the Proconsul's inner sanctum. Only the upper echelons of the Council were allowed to do that with regularity. And as a Watcher, the twenty-eight-year-old Aidan was still on the young side. His day job as a museum curator allowed him to keep learning and gave him time for whatever missions the Council needed him to accomplish.
"Will Proconsul Chamberlain be joining us this morning?" Aidan asked, as they made their way down a small hall, past several offices and other rooms. Aidan darted a glance at the imposing double doors at the head of the hallway. They opened into the Proconsul's impressive office, where the most carefully guarded secrets of the Council were kept. Aidan didn't really think the Proconsul would be a part of the meeting-Sidney Chamberlain should have more important things to do. But he had to ask, just in case.
Marcus shook his head. "He had other obligations." The other man's clipped tone sounded colder than usual. It made Aidan a trifle nervous. Perhaps this wasn't the ordinary meeting Aidan had supposed. But before he could reflect on that any longer, Marcus opened the door to the lesser council room and ushered Aidan inside.
As he took his seat, Aidan looked around the table. There were only three others present-Marcus, of course, there with his requisite steno pad; an older gentleman, Edmund Barrows, one of the Proconsul's most trusted advisors; and in the corner sat a woman with her blonde hair up in a tight chignon-Gwendolyn Post, the up-and-coming second in command of the Council.
Aidan swallowed nervously at this exalted company, but he kept his composure. If he could stay calm under the threat of demon invasion, he would not lose his face just because he was facing more high ranking officers than usual. "Good day, Mr. Barrows, Ms. Post."
"Mr. O'Shea," Barrows replied. "Thank you for taking the time to be here today."
"Of course, Mr. Barrows. You know I'm happy to come." Aidan glanced around the table and right into the icy eyes of the silent Ms. Post. He looked away, and noticed a small smirk on Marcus's face. Clearing his throat, Aidan added, "But if I may ask, sir, what is the purpose of this rather unusual meeting?"
"It is you, Mr. O'Shea."
"Me?" Aidan looked at Barrows in surprise. "Have I done something?"
"Not you, precisely... your flatmate."
"Doyle?" Aidan paused, carefully considering his words. He had a bad feeling that he now knew what this meeting was about. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, sir."
Barrows leaned forward across the table. Annoyance and something else flashed in his hazel eyes. Each of his words were carefully enunciated for maximum effect. "Mr. O'Shea, you brought this character into our organization. You let him know the truth of what we are and what we do..."
"But, sir," Aidan interrupted, "only because of his vision. He's had these visions before, and they've always come true. There are dangerous things happening here, and we have to be prepared." Aidan neglected to mention that Doyle had known of the existence of the Watchers for much longer than the past two months. That youthful folly would only get him in more trouble now.
"So you said when you first raised hue and cry over this so-called vision," Barrows replied. "But nothing has happened. We allowed you to bring in this Doyle creature, and it has all come to naught."
"We just have to be patient." Aidan ran his fingers through his hair. "We can't allow whatever is going on to take us by surprise."
"There is enough going on here with the tribunal and the Slayer's arrival." Barrows gave Aidan a stern look. "Proconsul Chamberlain agrees with me. There will be no more talk of these visions. You've always been a stellar Watcher in the past, Mr. O'Shea, so we will not hold this lapse against you. However, you must get rid of this 'visionary' Irishman so we can focus on the important things. He and his ideas create havoc that we simply cannot have right now. In fact, I recommended, and the Proconsul agrees with me, that you should cut all ties to Mr. Doyle immediately."
"But, sir..." Aidan was stunned. "He's one of my oldest friends."
"If that is more important to you than your job... your job saving the world, then..." Barrows left the threat dangling.
Aidan looked around the table, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "No... of course not," he protested.
Barrows sat back in his chair. "Good. Then we will expect you to get rid of Mr. Doyle as soon as possible."
Looking around the table, Aidan found no sympathy. Marcus smirked at him from over his steno pad. Aidan wasn't surprised at that-he and Marcus were of a similar age and had been rivals all throughout their training. Ms. Post just watched the whole interchange quietly, her face unreadable.
Finally, Aidan agreed. "Yes, Mr. Barrows."
"I'm glad you are so willing to see reason, Mr. O'Shea," Barrows said. Moving on to other matters, he added, "You'll be back tomorrow to greet Mr. Giles and his guests."
"Of course," Aidan agreed, pushing back the emotions swirling about his head to deal with later.
"Don't I remember that Mr. Giles was your mentor during training?" Barrows asked.
"Yes, sir," Aidan replied. "He passed his museum job on to me when he was called to active duty."
"Take my advice, Mr. O'Shea," Barrows stated bluntly. "I wouldn't associate myself with him too much. Your reputation among the Council members is precarious enough as it is after this whole vision fiasco."
"Yes, sir," Aidan agreed. He would do anything to just get out of there.
"Good," Barrows said. "I'm glad you're being so reasonable about all of this."
"Is that all, Mr. Barrows?" Aidan asked.
"Yes, you may go. And we'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes." Aidan hurriedly stood, and with a nod to Barrows and Ms. Post, he hurried out of the room. As he made his way back down to his car, Aidan couldn't sort out all his emotions, but somehow it seemed as if his life had just blown up in his face.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Plane
Joyce looked up from her book when she heard her watch begin to beep. Shutting the alarm off, she shifted in her seat, prepared to announce that it was time for another seat change. But when she saw the others, she stopped herself from speaking. Then she smiled.
"Looks like things are finally working out," she murmured to herself. In the seats directly in front of her and the snoozing Giles, she could see the tops of Buffy and Xander's heads. They were both obviously asleep, his arm slung protectively around her shoulders and her head resting against his chest. In front of them, Sonya and Oz were asleep as well, leaning on each other with their heads touching.
"How adorable," Joyce sighed. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her camera and stood up, careful not to make any noise. She didn't want to wake any of them up. Moving into the aisle, where she had a better view for her picture, she snapped a few shots of each of the sleeping couples, grinning widely. Then she sat back down in her seat and snapped her seatbelt back on, placing her camera away in her bag.
Giles, who was now awake and slowly wiping the sleep from his groggy eyes, asked, "Is it time for a seat change again, Joyce?" Joyce shook her head, indicating the sleeping teenagers in front of them.
"Nah, let's just let them sleep."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Ritz Hotel, London
Doyle adjusted the collar of his newly 'acquired' bellhop uniform for the umpteenth time, amazed at how uncomfortable it was. "Ye'd think that at a fancy place like this, they'd have enough money ta give the hired help decent clothin' or something," he muttered sourly. He glanced down at the bag in his hands. It held his other clothing, including his treasured leather jacket. He'd thought about hiding his bag of clothes in the closet were he'd left the tied-up and unconscious bellhop, but eventually decided against it. He didn't want to chance loosing it.
Doyle glanced at his watch. It was early afternoon. "When is that girl gonna leave her room again... at the turn of the century?"
Sighing, Doyle slumped down next to a potted plant that was located across the hall from the door to Cordelia Chase's suite. He had gone straight to her hotel as soon as he'd managed to recover from the vision, determined to protect her. But once he'd gotten to her room, he'd realized that he didn't know what to do next. He couldn't just knock and say,
"Hello, Cordelia. Remember me? We met at a club last night when ye were fawnin' over my friend, Aidan. I know that this comes as a shock, but I happen to be half demon, on my father's side, and I get these pesky visions 'o doom from the Powers That Be sometimes. And my latest vision told me that ye were in danger. So here I am, dressed as a bellhop so that the hotel security will leave me alone and ready to protect ye. Can I come in?" That just wouldn't work. So he'd sat down and waited. Hoping to figure out a better plan in time. On the up side, while he'd been sitting around outside her door, twiddling his thumbs, he'd finally remembered where he'd seen Cordelia before. She'd been one of the three young woman held at gunpoint in his first vision.
So now he knew that this was more than just coincidence. Everything he'd seen in his vision was coming together. And he rather wished that it wasn't.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Gatwick Airport
Cordelia got out of the taxi, handing the driver a wad of bills. Obviously, she'd given him more money than necessary, but he was cute, so she didn't really mind. Turning away with a last smile for his benefit, Cordelia slung her purse over her shoulder and made her way into the airport. As she walked, her heels clicked loudly on the pavement.
Once inside the building, she made her way to the information desk. When a young blonde woman in a brown uniform came up to stand behind the counter, Cordelia raised her chin and began to tell the woman about her plight.
"Now, I was understanding when my daddy told me that I'd have to come to this stupid country instead of vacationing in the Caribbean like he'd promised. And I was even willing to deal with the loser kids that he left me with while he went to his business meeting. And when they ruined my dress, I didn't complain too much. But the fact that half of my luggage was lost during the flight over here is just the last straw! Now you better have found it, like the guy that called me this morning said, or I'll just have to call my daddy and let him know what's going on." Cordelia leaned forward and fixed the woman with her steely gaze. "And believe me, you *really* don't want me to do that."
The woman remained unaffected by Cordelia's tirade. "Name, please." She waited for Cordelia's answer with a pen poised above her notepad.
"Cordelia Chase," the brunette replied, as if it were obvious.
The blonde nodded and made a note on her notepad. "Yes, we have your name right here. Your luggage has been found and is waiting for you at baggage claim 6." Gesturing to a short, balding man, she added, "James will escort you there."
Cordelia glanced over the small man and replied, "I suppose that will be acceptable."
As he led her away, Cordelia glanced over her shoulder and frowned, quickly turning back around. He was still there. He'd been following her since she left the hotel, but she'd just thought that she'd been imagining things at first. After all, what would a random bellhop want with her? But he was still back there and it was starting to make her very nervous. Then Cordelia stiffened her spine and followed James with her head held high. They were in a public place-though the one-runway airport was tiny compared to LAX-there was no way the bellhop stalker could do anything to her.
James paused by the baggage carrousel. The first suitcase-not one of hers -- was just cresting over the top of the machine. "It should come up here any moment. It missed the flight from California, so we had it shipped on the next flight."
"It's the least you could have done," Cordelia replied, distracted from her stalker by the precarious luggage situation. "I've been dying without my hair dryer and my Sketchers. Now you'd better just wait right here until the bags get here, because if all four of them are not here and intact, I'm going to have to speak to your supervisor."
"Yes, miss," James replied. "I had no intention of leaving." Passengers surged all around them. Cordelia was jostled several times as hurried men, women and children snatched bags from around her.
"How rude!" she remarked loudly, hoping to chasten them.
On the other side of the room, Giles and Joyce led their charges slowly toward the baggage carrouselel. They had to take their time due to Oz and his crutches.
"Why did we bring you with us again?" Buffy teased her friend. Xander squeezed her hand, which had somehow found its way into hers during the walk up from the plane. "You remember, he and his crutches are our ticket to special treatment and early boarding."
"You just have to put up with my slowness now," Oz added with a good-natured smile.
"It's all for the best," Joyce added. "Look, most of the other people have already gotten their things."
The other looked around, and true to her words, the crowd was rapidly dissipating.
"That means our stuff will be easier to find," Buffy cried, pulling Xander along toward the carrousel. She scanned the moving track, but didn't see any familiar bags. Then she heard something that made her wince.
"Where are my bags, Mr. Airport Guy? You said they were on this flight!" Buffy turned to the side and came face-to-face with none other than Cordelia Chase. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to the Caribbean."
Cordelia's face grew even more horrified. "Nooo! I'm going to kill you, Daddy," she groaned.
Xander and Buffy looked at each other in confusion. "Um... Cordelia. I'm Xander Harris-not Daddy."
"Unless there's something you're not telling me," Buffy said with a smirk.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "My father forced me to spend my Spring Break in this boring country where there's nothing to do but go to museums and see huge clocks, and to top it all off you dweebs are here, too! This must be the worst Spring Break ever!"
"Thanks, Cordelia," Buffy said with a frown. "Great to see you, too. Really. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're going to get our stuff and leave you to... whatever."
"Er... not to break up this touching reunion," Giles inserted, "but there's something odd going on here."
Cordelia's eyes widened. "You're on a trip with the LIBRARIAN? The epitome of un-cool. I'm so glad no one important is here to see me speaking to you guys!"
Buffy looked at Giles. "What's wrong?"
Giles gestured to the rest of the room. "Don't you think it's odd that everyone but us has suddenly disappeared?"
They all looked around the room, and saw that Giles was right.
"What the heck?" Sonya muttered, moving up to stand next to Buffy.
"This is weird," Xander commented.
"Things are always weird when you guys are involved," Cordelia said, turning away from them.
James met her eyes with a small smile. "I wouldn't exactly call this weird." Cordelia raised an eyebrow at the man's familiarity, when suddenly a yell from the other side of the room attracted everyone's attention. A demon with a green, spiny face had emerged from behind a potted tree in the corner. Oddly enough, he was wearing a bellhop uniform. Cordelia screamed, and took a step back. James grabbed her arm, and pulled her next to him.
Buffy took one look at the demon and ran for him. A flying kick knocked him down, and the pair went rolling onto the floor.
"No!" the demon protested through her punches. "Not me-him!"
That remark startled Buffy enough to make her stop pummelling him. And then she heard Cordelia gasp. Buffy looked back and saw James holding a small gun, complete with a silencer, on the irritating brunette. Everyone froze.
The bellhop-demon laying underneath Buffy pushed her to the side and stood up, the spines on his face dissolving away to reveal an ordinary looking man. "I told ye, I'm not the one ye want." His voice was tense, and his eyes hardened as he watched every move James made. "It's him."
Cordelia, from her position next to the gun-wielding airport man, gasped. "Doyle?" Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell are *you* doing here?"
Chapter Five
The Plane
"Ouch! Buffy, be careful with that thing!" Sonya rubbed the back of her head as Buffy continued to adjust her oversized carry-on in the overhead compartment.
"Sorry," Buffy said, finally getting the compartment shut and latched. "You OK?"
"That thing is way heavy," Sonya complained.
"Well, it does contain a small arsenal," Buffy hissed so no one could overhear.
"Let me see," Oz commanded from his seat, giving Sonya a serious look. "You could have been hurt." He and his cast had been firmly ensconced in the first row of first class, so standing up again wasn't really an option. Sonya leaned down to give him access to the bumped portion of her head. She knew that with her enhanced healing abilities, a bump on the head wasn't likely to cause any irreversible damage, but she humored him anyway.
"See anything?" she asked.
"Just your hair."
That surprised a chuckle out of Sonya. Watching the by-play with a "how cute" expression, Buffy laughed as well. Embarrassed, Sonya straightened up, and stepped back into the aisle.
"All right, everybody, listen up!" Her voice and the sharp staccato clapping of her hands made the other five members of the group look at Joyce. She was sitting in the second row next to the window.
"Is something amiss?" Giles asked, craning his head over the back of her seat from his window-side position in the third row.
"No, not at all. I just had a great idea." Joyce brimmed over with enthusiasm.
"We've got a really long flight ahead of us, and I know a way to make things more interesting."
"How?' Xander asked, shutting his own overhead compartment.
"I'm going to set my watch alarm to go off at regular intervals," Joyce explained, "and when it goes off we all switch seat partners. That way we'll all get to sit with everyone. We can alleviate boredom and get to know each other better in one fell swoop. It's killing two birds with one stone!"
"Mom!" Buffy protested in a slightly whiney tone. "I don't think..."
"Nope!" Joyce interrupted. "I'm not going to budge on this. I want to get to know all of you better, and I think some of you want the same thing."
"Whatever we do, you'd better decide quick," Oz said. "Early boarding is about to end."
Maybe it was the threat of incoming passengers to clog the aisles, or maybe it was Joyce's stubborn insistence, but everyone agreed to the idea.
"Good!" Joyce said, smiling. "Now-who's sitting with who?"
"Whom," Giles corrected. Joyce paid no attention.
Buffy took the lay of the land. She, Sonya and Xander were still standing in the aisle, while Oz (who wasn't moving), her mother and Giles were sitting in the window seats. She didn't want to sit with Giles-that was a given. She loved her mother, but she didn't really want to do that either. Xander caught her eye. Buffy knew he was wondering if she wanted to sit with him now so they could have that talk. Panic overtook her, and she blurted, "I'll sit with Oz!" Following action to words, she dove into the seat next to the taciturn boy with the broken leg, despite unhappy looks from both Xander and Sonya.
"Running away doesn't help," Oz commented softly as Buffy fussed with her seatbelt.
"I know, I know," Buffy replied just as quietly. "But I'm just not quite ready to face him yet. And it's not like there isn't plenty of time."
"Will you be ready before the end of the flight?"
"I sure hope so." Wanting to turn the spotlight off of her love life, Buffy grinned at Oz and said, "But now that I've got you here, and you can't move, I want to know all the juicy details about you and Sonya..."
From behind them, Joyce could be heard, saying, "Sonya, sweetie, why don't you sit by me? We've really never had much of a chance to chat."
"Um... OK," Sonya agreed.
"I guess that leaves us together, G-Man," Xander said unnecessarily.
"Oh, joy," Giles muttered. "And how many times have I asked you not to call me that?"
Xander rolled his eyes, and Sonya gave him a sympathetic look. His look contained answering sympathy, and for a minute it was like old times. Then the awkwardness took over again, and they both slid into their seats.
Sonya looked over at Joyce, who was smiling sweetly. She tried to smile back, but was afraid it looked pained. Joyce seemed oblivious. She reached into her purse and pulled out a red, plastic box.
"How about a game of travel checkers?" Joyce asked with a big grin. "They're magnetic!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A Fancy Club in London
Aidan just didn't know how Doyle managed it. It was after 11 p.m. and the half-demon was still drinking like there was no tomorrow. Aidan glanced at his watch again and sighed. 11:08 p.m. He thought about the appointment he had with some members of the Watchers Council at the crack of dawn tomorrow and frowned. He wasn't going to get to sleep anytime soon at this rate.
"Doyle, are you ready to leave this 'interesting' establishment yet?" Aidan asked with more than a trace of annoyance in his voice. He drummed his fingers on the table top restlessly.
"Nah, ye can go if ye want, but I'm stayin' fer awhile. The night is still young, Aidan! Definitely too early ta turn in."
Aidan sighed and stood up. This was beginning to turn into a habit, and not one he was especially fond of. "All right, Doyle. You stay. I'm going to go back to my flat and get some sleep. I have an early meeting with the Council tomorrow." Aidan left a couple of twenty pound notes on the table. "That's for a taxi. Don't spend it on any more to drink," he warned.
"Aye, I won't," Doyle promised, grabbing the money and shoving it into his pocket in a messy wad of bills. "I'll see ya later, Aidan."
As Aidan was turning to leave, he heard a high pitched shriek from across the room. Whirling around, he saw that, even in his inebriated state, Doyle had heard it, too. Signaling for Doyle to follow him, he made his way over to the source of the sound. A group of young adults, not a one of them could be more than twenty years old or so at best, were clustered around a in a circle, laughing. The shrieks continued as Aidan shouldered his way through the group and spotted a young woman laying on the ground, covered with what appeared to be spilled ale.
She was staring down at her ruined dress in dismay.
"I can't believe you did this to me!" the brunette on the ground shrieked loudly. "Look at this dress! It's completely NOT fixable! And it was a Calvin Klein original! Do you have any idea how much my daddy paid for this ensemble?" She snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "No, you probably don't. You probably do your shopping in the English version of a Walmart! But let me assure you, this dress alone, and that's not even including the shoes or the purse, cost more than all of your salaries combined for at least a month! And now it's ruined!"
Aidan tried not to laugh as he realized what was going on here. This spoiled little princess was obviously getting her just deserts. But, always the gentleman, he reached down and offered her his hand. "May I be of assistance, Miss...?"
The girl looked up at him and he was struck by how beautiful her dark brown eyes were. "My name's Cordelia Chase," she said in a slightly pouty tone as she took his offered hand. He quickly pulled her to her feet and gave her a friendly smile.
Suddenly, a voice from behind them asked,"Are ye okay, darlin'?"
Cordelia turned around and came face to face with Doyle, who had just reached the scene. Scrunching her eyebrows together and pursing her lips distastefully, she said, "And just who are you supposed to be? My drunken Irish fairy godmother?"
Doyle's mouth dropped and a dark blush quickly covered his cheeks. "Uh, no... I... erm... I was just..."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Whatever." Dismissing Doyle, she turned and faced Aidan with a sweet smile on her lips. Throwing herself into his arms, she gave him a huge hug and exclaimed, "Thank you so much! You totally saved my life!"
One of the boys from the group she'd been hanging out with rolled his eyes. "It was just a dress. Not life or death or anything." The group slowly dispersed, leaving Cordelia alone with her two new "friends."
Aidan carefully disentangled himself from Cordelia's clutches and smiled somewhat uncomfortably. "Er... no thanks are necessary, I assure you, Miss Chase."
"Please," she cried, waving her hand absently, "Call me Cordelia." Aidan nodded. "And you may call me Aidan." Gesturing in Doyle's direction, he added, "Oh, and this is my friend Doyle."
Cordelia frowned. "You two know each other?" she demanded incredulously. She looked Doyle up and down, noting his unkept appearance and less than up to date fashion sense. Then her eyes turned to Aidan's nice suit and tie. "Unbelievable."
Doyle pulled Aidan to the side as Cordelia was looking over her stained dress with a napkin, all about damage control. "Man, I think I've seen her before!"
Aidan frowned. "What do you mean? Is she your friend or something? Because she didn't act like it."
Doyle shook his head. "No, but I have seen her before. I know it. I just can't quite place her face." He gave Aidan a determined look. "But I will. Just give me time."
"And some coffee," Aidan muttered under his breath.
Cordelia coughed to get their attention. Then, sighing a long suffering sigh, she seemed to come to some kind of decision. "I suppose you two can have the privilege of escorting me back to my hotel." She eyed Doyle warily. "But you just keep your distance, pal." Then, giving Aidan a brilliant smile, she took his arm and led him to the door of the club.
"Now Aidan, I assume you'll be paying for our taxi..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Plane
"Nope."
Buffy rolled her eyes at her seatmate. "Yep. Nope. That's all you've said this whole time, Oz! Aren't you going to tell me anything about you and Sonya?"
"What's to tell?" Oz sat back in his seat comfortably and sipped the soda that had been brought earlier by an obliging flight attendant.
"That's what I've been TRYING to find out!" Buffy groaned in frustration.
"Something wrong up there?" Sonya called from her seat behind Buffy.
A little embarrassed, Buffy answered, "No!"
Oz slanted a look at the Slayer. "You can get more volume on your nosy questions if you speak from the diaphragm."
"Come on, Oz!" Buffy begged, this time keeping her voice down to a low decibel.
"I just want to know if you two are headed toward couple- dom any time soon. I'm one of your best friends. If you can't tell me, who can you tell?"
"Why do you want to know so badly?" he asked.
"Like I said, we're friends. It's my job to know these things. And besides, I've got to know that someone's love life is working out, even if only for the vicarious thrills."
Oz took pity on Buffy and decided to answer her question. "OK, I'll tell you one thing."
Buffy leaned forward eagerly. "I'm all ears."
"I like her."
She waited for a second, and when no more words were forthcoming, she demanded,
"That's it? I already knew that!"
Oz shrugged.
Buffy finally gave up, and settled back in her seat. "Well, I'll tell you this. I think Sonya likes you. In my opinion, she likes you more than she realizes."
"I thought I heard my name up there," Sonya called again. "Are you guys talking about me behind my back... erm... in front of my face, but behind a chair... oh, nevermind!" She paused before repeating, "But are you talking about me?"
Then a shrill beeping sound erupted from Joyce's watch.
"SWITCH!" Sonya yelled at the top of her lungs, startling the other passengers in first class. But she ignored all the odd looks she was getting, and moved to stand by Buffy. "I'll take your seat."
"Is my mom that bad of a seat buddy?" Buffy whispered. Sonya looked Buffy straight in the eye. "She had... magnetic... checkers." Buffy nodded knowingly, surrendering the seat to Sonya. "Well, you two have fun." She was about to sit down next to her mother, when Xander sprang from his seat and dived into the chair next to Joyce. Buffy gave him an odd look.
Xander gazed up at her with horror-filled eyes. "It's your turn."
"My turn to what?" Buffy asked, unable to hide a small smile.
"To sit with Giles!" Xander shivered, as if the memory were too much for him. "I can't do it again... I just can't."
Buffy moved toward the last remaining seat. (How bad could it be?) she asked herself. Sitting down, she gave Giles a smile. "What's up?" Giles pulled a thick, old book out of his briefcase and placed it in her lap. She could feel its weight all the way down to the soles of her feet. Buffy looked at him mutely.
"It's the Slayer's Handbook," Giles explained grimly. "I've never given it to you before, as you are more of a visual learner, and we have been rather busy of late. But I think that... before our meeting with the Council... you should bone up a bit."
Staring at the book in horror, Buffy glared at the back of Xander's seat.
(I'm going to get you for this, Xander!)
Meanwhile, Xander was looking at Joyce with much the same distaste Buffy had show to the book. "What was that?" he asked, hoping he had misheard.
Joyce grinned at him, shaking a red, plastic box. "I have travel checkers."
He hadn't misheard. Xander shot her a disbelieving look, to which she replied cheerfully, "They're magnetic!" (There's got to be a way to get out of this) Xander thought frantically. (Think, man, think!) Then a brilliant idea struck him. He grinned, and reached into his pocket to pull out a small, rectangular box. Joyce's eyes widened as she recognized it as a deck of cards.
"Checkers are for kids, Mrs. S.," Xander said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How about a game of poker?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Aidan's Flat
Doyle followed Aidan through the darkened flat, wincing in sympathy as he heard his friend yelp in pain when his knee struck the side of a wooden chair that had been left in the middle of the floor.
"Sorry about that," he mumbled.
Aidan finally reached the light switch and flipped it on, whirling around to face Doyle with an angry expression on his face. "I thought I told you to clean this place up today!" he practically growled, his patience stretched to the limit. "It's not like you had anything else to do while I was at work!"
Doyle held up his hands in surrender, backing away from the angry Watcher. "I know ye did, man, and I meant ta do it..." Seeing that this wasn't making Aidan any happier, Doyle hastened to add, "But I'll straighten the place up right now, Aidan." As he began to pick up the various articles of clothing and junk strewn around the living room, he looked up at Aidan with a small smile. "See? I'm cleanin' now." He moved the chair back into its rightful spot by the kitchen table. "Witness me cleanin' up the joint."
Aidan sighed and walked into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Doyle winced. Setting down his arm load of stuff in a pile on the floor, Doyle collapsed on the couch. "I'll finish the straightenin' in the mornin'," he murmured to himself as he drifted off to sleep.
Snuggling into a comfortable position on the couch, he yawned sleepily. "I'll do it in the mornin'..."
Seconds later, Doyle was fast asleep and snoring lightly. He didn't move for a long while. And then...
Images pounded through Doyle's brain, one after another. His body jerked to a sitting position on the couch, though his mind was still in that other place. Fighting the pain that each flash caused him, Doyle struggled to make sense out of what he was seeing. A face... Cordelia Chase... looking as if she had never been more terrified in her entire life... A man with a gun... A scream... The gun was pointed at Cordelia... Tears leaked out of her eyes and her breath came in soft pants... A loud bang... A bullet piercing flesh... Another scream... Blood... It's bright crimson stickiness matting a girl's brown hair... Doyle opened his eyes with a start, placing his hand to his throbbing skull.
It was still dark outside.
"Oh, no... Cordelia..." Doyle whispered. "Lass, what kind of trouble have ye gotten yerself into now?"
Doyle didn't bother waking Aidan up. The man needed his sleep. Besides, he probably wouldn't believe him anyway. He'd just say that Doyle was exaggerating things. Especially after the bust his last vision had turned out to be. Two months was a long time to wait with no results.
Careful not to make any noise, Doyle pulled on his shoes and grabbed his leather jacket, heading for the door. As he sprinted down the stairs of Aidan's building and hailed a taxi, he just hoped that he was going to make it to Cordelia's hotel in time...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Plane
"Honey, aren't you supposed to be reading that book?" Joyce looked at the closed Slayer's Handbook on Buffy's lap.
Buffy rolled her eyes at her mother. "I thought when I got away from Giles things would be better..." she said, only half teasing.
"Sorry, honey," Joyce answered. "I didn't mean to be a nag. I just want you to be as prepared as you can be when we get to this compound. I want you to show those Watchers that you are the very best Slayer you can be."
In front of Buffy, Xander's cards zipped as he shuffled them again. Then he laid them out in a familiar solitaire pattern. He glanced over at Oz in frustration. The boy was asleep-either that, or he was meditating with his eyes closed. With Oz, you never knew.
(And to think that I thought sitting with Oz would be fun) Xander grumbled inwardly. (My age, my foot! He's some kind of cryptic Immortal caught in a teenaged body. And what's with the silence thing? From a distance it seemed the epitome of cool-now, I think it's just boring! The most fun I've had on this stupid flight was playing poker with Mrs. S., and she was creaming me!)
The now-familiar beeping sound of Joyce's watch startled Xander out of his irritated meditation. He quickly swept his cards back into their box and yelled, "SWITCH!" Buffy and Sonya were on their feet immediately. They looked at each other. Then they looked at their companions.
"I think we've exhausted all these seating possibilities," Xander announced.
"One of you guys is going to have to move if we're going to continue this... game."
"Mom," Buffy suggested in a mild tone, "why don't you go sit with Giles?"
Joyce gathered her things together and made the move cheerfully. "Sounds good to me. I will be glad for some adult conversation. No offense, guys."
"None taken," Buffy replied. Then she looked at Sonya and Xander. The three glanced at each other, and then at the seats. There weren't many options left. Then Sonya plopped down next to Oz.
"Hey!" Buffy protested. "You already sat with Oz."
"We've all already sat with Oz," Sonya pointed out matter-of-factly.
"She has a point," Xander noted. Then he gestured to the two remaining seats.
"Window or aisle?"
Buffy slid into the window seat quietly. Xander sat down next to her. In front of her, Buffy could hear Sonya and a newly-awakened Oz murmuring. Behind her, she could make out bits and pieces of her mother's conversation with Giles. Between herself and Xander, silence reigned.
"So..." Buffy said finally.
"So..." Xander replied. They looked at each other.
"Well?" Buffy prompted. "You're the one who wanted this little chat. Should we just jump into it, or should we have some small talk first? I could borrow the magnetic checkers from Mom."
"Please, no!" Xander shuddered.
Buffy watched him shift uncomfortably in his padded seat. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes. That made her remember the expression on his face that morning at the library. "How are you doing, Xander? For real, I mean, not just small talk. You haven't quite seemed yourself today."
"It was a rough morning," Xander admitted.
Nothing else seemed forthcoming. Buffy remembered this. Sometimes, he would look so sad or so mad, but he'd just clam up. She'd never been able to get him to open up when he was like this. But somehow, she couldn't stop trying.
"Was it something at home?" she asked. "You know... even after all this time, I don't know much about your family." Buffy knew there were problems in the Harris household, but the only time he'd ever actually talked about it, his mission had been to convince her mother to let him stay overnight because Willow and Spike had been waiting for him outside. She'd told him to make something up, and after that, she'd never known how much of the story was based in reality. And when she'd tried to find out, Xander always changed the subject.
"It's nothing for you to worry about," Xander answered.
Buffy reached out and touched his arm. "You can tell me..."
"I don't want to talk about it!" Xander replied, pulling his arm away and staring at the back of Sonya's seat.
Glaring, Buffy spoke through gritted teeth. "You never want to talk about whatever it is that makes you look so sad that I hurt inside. I worry about you, damn it!"
"You do?" Xander looked deep into her eyes.
"Of course, I do." Buffy stared right back, never wavering. "We may have our problems, but I'll never stop caring."
"If I were going to talk to anyone about it, Buffy, it would be you. But right now... I just... I just can't. There aren't any words..." His voice cracked, and he stopped talking. He sat still for a moment, concentrating solely on breathing in and out, and controlling the tears in his eyes. But he couldn't control them. Buffy reached up and pulled his head down onto her shoulder, letting him cry there. His emotions came softly, but she could tell they ran deep. If they'd been alone, she knew the storm would have been much louder.
"Shh..." she murmured, stroking his hair with light, gentle fingers. "I'm here, Xander."
"For how long?" he whispered in a voice so soft that she almost didn't hear him. Buffy looked down at the back of his head, noticing how her soft breath lightly ruffled his dark hair. Then, it hit her. She wasn't the only one hurting as a result of everything that had happened with Sonya and Nathan. Of course, she'd known that theoretically, but she had been so focused on her own pain during the last few months that she hadn't even thought about how much it was killing Xander to be so alone. After all, he had not only lost her, but he had also lost his best friend when things between himself and Sonya became so strained. Suddenly, like in one of those revelations that she'd thought only happened in the movies, she realized that, even though it would be hard, she *had* to make things right between herself and Xander. She loved him too much to watch him suffer any longer.
Pulling his face up so that she could look into his eyes, she answered in a soft but determined voice, "For as long as you'll have me, Xander."
He pulled back and looked her in the eyes again as if he couldn't believe what he heard. And Buffy couldn't blame him if he didn't believe her.
After a second, she said, "But if you don't..."
Xander stopped that comment by pulling her into a searing kiss. It was a kiss of pure emotion and a way for them to share that emotion, all wrapped up in one. Then Buffy pushed him away a little. His face fell. This had happened so many times before over the past weeks. This time it had lasted longer, but with the same result. "You're seeing me with her again, aren't you?" he muttered. "Like always. So much for forever."
"No!" Buffy burst out. Glancing around nervously, she lowered her voice, but it was filled with urgency as she continued. "I didn't see you with Sonya. For the first time since that awful night, that image was completely gone.
It was such a shock, I just had to tell you."
Xander looked at her incredulously for a moment, then he pulled her back into his embrace. They hugged tightly. When the embrace loosened, Buffy leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly, feeling better than she had in a long time.
"Never let me go, Xander," she whispered.
Giving her a soft kiss on the crown of her head, Xander simply said, "I love you, Buffy."
"Me, too," Buffy replied. "I love you, too."
A brief smile flashed across his face. "Good."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Watchers Compound
Driving had always been one of Aidan's favorite pastimes. Even the drive from London to the Watchers Compound usually gave him pleasure. But today, it didn't. He spent the whole ride fuming.
"'I'll straighten the place up right now, Aidan!' What a liar!" Aidan's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering while extra-tight -- pretending it was Doyle's neck. "Stupid flat was still just as messy... And that note! 'Aidan, had another vision. Finish cleaning later. Doyle.' What kind of excuse it that? If it were a real vision, maybe, but he hasn't had a vision since he got here, and the other vision sure hasn't panned out..." He sighed-even though the first vision had yet to prove itself, Aidan knew enough to think there was still something to it.
After a pause, Aidan grumbled, "When I get home, I'm just cleaning the place up myself." He cringed as he pictured the heaps of clothes and whatever moldy dishes Doyle had left underneath said piles of clothes and other junk. When Aidan had left that morning, he'd smelled something foul in the living room. The thought made him shudder.
"I little mess I can take, but do I have to live in a sty?" he asked. Then he realized he was talking to himself, and very vividly, too. (Now, he's making me insane as well!) he through with a scowl. (He's like a brother to me, but how much of this am I supposed to take?)
A few minutes later, a suitably calmed down Aidan pulled up to the gate that surrounded the Watchers Compound. During business hours, there was always a guard stationed in the little room next to the gate. Aidan rolled down his window, waved to the familiar man in a gray uniform, and the man pushed the button that allowed Aidan to drive up the long, circular driveway and up to the enormous mansion that made up the bulk of the Compound. Aidan left his car in front of the mansion instead of driving around to the parking lot in the back because he was already almost late. As it was, he would have just enough time to get to get to the upstairs room where his important meeting was to take place.
He made his way upstairs at a sedated trot, and paused outside the door to the Proconsul's suite. Taking a deep breath and smoothing his hair, Aidan knocked briskly on the door and then entered the outer office. He nodded to Marcus Whiteman III, the Proconsul's attache. "Good day, Marcus. Ready for the meeting?"
Marcus looked up from his papers. "Just so, Aidan. Everyone else is already assembled in the lesser council room. Follow me."
Aidan followed obediently. He rarely ever entered the Proconsul's inner sanctum. Only the upper echelons of the Council were allowed to do that with regularity. And as a Watcher, the twenty-eight-year-old Aidan was still on the young side. His day job as a museum curator allowed him to keep learning and gave him time for whatever missions the Council needed him to accomplish.
"Will Proconsul Chamberlain be joining us this morning?" Aidan asked, as they made their way down a small hall, past several offices and other rooms. Aidan darted a glance at the imposing double doors at the head of the hallway. They opened into the Proconsul's impressive office, where the most carefully guarded secrets of the Council were kept. Aidan didn't really think the Proconsul would be a part of the meeting-Sidney Chamberlain should have more important things to do. But he had to ask, just in case.
Marcus shook his head. "He had other obligations." The other man's clipped tone sounded colder than usual. It made Aidan a trifle nervous. Perhaps this wasn't the ordinary meeting Aidan had supposed. But before he could reflect on that any longer, Marcus opened the door to the lesser council room and ushered Aidan inside.
As he took his seat, Aidan looked around the table. There were only three others present-Marcus, of course, there with his requisite steno pad; an older gentleman, Edmund Barrows, one of the Proconsul's most trusted advisors; and in the corner sat a woman with her blonde hair up in a tight chignon-Gwendolyn Post, the up-and-coming second in command of the Council.
Aidan swallowed nervously at this exalted company, but he kept his composure. If he could stay calm under the threat of demon invasion, he would not lose his face just because he was facing more high ranking officers than usual. "Good day, Mr. Barrows, Ms. Post."
"Mr. O'Shea," Barrows replied. "Thank you for taking the time to be here today."
"Of course, Mr. Barrows. You know I'm happy to come." Aidan glanced around the table and right into the icy eyes of the silent Ms. Post. He looked away, and noticed a small smirk on Marcus's face. Clearing his throat, Aidan added, "But if I may ask, sir, what is the purpose of this rather unusual meeting?"
"It is you, Mr. O'Shea."
"Me?" Aidan looked at Barrows in surprise. "Have I done something?"
"Not you, precisely... your flatmate."
"Doyle?" Aidan paused, carefully considering his words. He had a bad feeling that he now knew what this meeting was about. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, sir."
Barrows leaned forward across the table. Annoyance and something else flashed in his hazel eyes. Each of his words were carefully enunciated for maximum effect. "Mr. O'Shea, you brought this character into our organization. You let him know the truth of what we are and what we do..."
"But, sir," Aidan interrupted, "only because of his vision. He's had these visions before, and they've always come true. There are dangerous things happening here, and we have to be prepared." Aidan neglected to mention that Doyle had known of the existence of the Watchers for much longer than the past two months. That youthful folly would only get him in more trouble now.
"So you said when you first raised hue and cry over this so-called vision," Barrows replied. "But nothing has happened. We allowed you to bring in this Doyle creature, and it has all come to naught."
"We just have to be patient." Aidan ran his fingers through his hair. "We can't allow whatever is going on to take us by surprise."
"There is enough going on here with the tribunal and the Slayer's arrival." Barrows gave Aidan a stern look. "Proconsul Chamberlain agrees with me. There will be no more talk of these visions. You've always been a stellar Watcher in the past, Mr. O'Shea, so we will not hold this lapse against you. However, you must get rid of this 'visionary' Irishman so we can focus on the important things. He and his ideas create havoc that we simply cannot have right now. In fact, I recommended, and the Proconsul agrees with me, that you should cut all ties to Mr. Doyle immediately."
"But, sir..." Aidan was stunned. "He's one of my oldest friends."
"If that is more important to you than your job... your job saving the world, then..." Barrows left the threat dangling.
Aidan looked around the table, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "No... of course not," he protested.
Barrows sat back in his chair. "Good. Then we will expect you to get rid of Mr. Doyle as soon as possible."
Looking around the table, Aidan found no sympathy. Marcus smirked at him from over his steno pad. Aidan wasn't surprised at that-he and Marcus were of a similar age and had been rivals all throughout their training. Ms. Post just watched the whole interchange quietly, her face unreadable.
Finally, Aidan agreed. "Yes, Mr. Barrows."
"I'm glad you are so willing to see reason, Mr. O'Shea," Barrows said. Moving on to other matters, he added, "You'll be back tomorrow to greet Mr. Giles and his guests."
"Of course," Aidan agreed, pushing back the emotions swirling about his head to deal with later.
"Don't I remember that Mr. Giles was your mentor during training?" Barrows asked.
"Yes, sir," Aidan replied. "He passed his museum job on to me when he was called to active duty."
"Take my advice, Mr. O'Shea," Barrows stated bluntly. "I wouldn't associate myself with him too much. Your reputation among the Council members is precarious enough as it is after this whole vision fiasco."
"Yes, sir," Aidan agreed. He would do anything to just get out of there.
"Good," Barrows said. "I'm glad you're being so reasonable about all of this."
"Is that all, Mr. Barrows?" Aidan asked.
"Yes, you may go. And we'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes." Aidan hurriedly stood, and with a nod to Barrows and Ms. Post, he hurried out of the room. As he made his way back down to his car, Aidan couldn't sort out all his emotions, but somehow it seemed as if his life had just blown up in his face.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Plane
Joyce looked up from her book when she heard her watch begin to beep. Shutting the alarm off, she shifted in her seat, prepared to announce that it was time for another seat change. But when she saw the others, she stopped herself from speaking. Then she smiled.
"Looks like things are finally working out," she murmured to herself. In the seats directly in front of her and the snoozing Giles, she could see the tops of Buffy and Xander's heads. They were both obviously asleep, his arm slung protectively around her shoulders and her head resting against his chest. In front of them, Sonya and Oz were asleep as well, leaning on each other with their heads touching.
"How adorable," Joyce sighed. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her camera and stood up, careful not to make any noise. She didn't want to wake any of them up. Moving into the aisle, where she had a better view for her picture, she snapped a few shots of each of the sleeping couples, grinning widely. Then she sat back down in her seat and snapped her seatbelt back on, placing her camera away in her bag.
Giles, who was now awake and slowly wiping the sleep from his groggy eyes, asked, "Is it time for a seat change again, Joyce?" Joyce shook her head, indicating the sleeping teenagers in front of them.
"Nah, let's just let them sleep."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Ritz Hotel, London
Doyle adjusted the collar of his newly 'acquired' bellhop uniform for the umpteenth time, amazed at how uncomfortable it was. "Ye'd think that at a fancy place like this, they'd have enough money ta give the hired help decent clothin' or something," he muttered sourly. He glanced down at the bag in his hands. It held his other clothing, including his treasured leather jacket. He'd thought about hiding his bag of clothes in the closet were he'd left the tied-up and unconscious bellhop, but eventually decided against it. He didn't want to chance loosing it.
Doyle glanced at his watch. It was early afternoon. "When is that girl gonna leave her room again... at the turn of the century?"
Sighing, Doyle slumped down next to a potted plant that was located across the hall from the door to Cordelia Chase's suite. He had gone straight to her hotel as soon as he'd managed to recover from the vision, determined to protect her. But once he'd gotten to her room, he'd realized that he didn't know what to do next. He couldn't just knock and say,
"Hello, Cordelia. Remember me? We met at a club last night when ye were fawnin' over my friend, Aidan. I know that this comes as a shock, but I happen to be half demon, on my father's side, and I get these pesky visions 'o doom from the Powers That Be sometimes. And my latest vision told me that ye were in danger. So here I am, dressed as a bellhop so that the hotel security will leave me alone and ready to protect ye. Can I come in?" That just wouldn't work. So he'd sat down and waited. Hoping to figure out a better plan in time. On the up side, while he'd been sitting around outside her door, twiddling his thumbs, he'd finally remembered where he'd seen Cordelia before. She'd been one of the three young woman held at gunpoint in his first vision.
So now he knew that this was more than just coincidence. Everything he'd seen in his vision was coming together. And he rather wished that it wasn't.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Gatwick Airport
Cordelia got out of the taxi, handing the driver a wad of bills. Obviously, she'd given him more money than necessary, but he was cute, so she didn't really mind. Turning away with a last smile for his benefit, Cordelia slung her purse over her shoulder and made her way into the airport. As she walked, her heels clicked loudly on the pavement.
Once inside the building, she made her way to the information desk. When a young blonde woman in a brown uniform came up to stand behind the counter, Cordelia raised her chin and began to tell the woman about her plight.
"Now, I was understanding when my daddy told me that I'd have to come to this stupid country instead of vacationing in the Caribbean like he'd promised. And I was even willing to deal with the loser kids that he left me with while he went to his business meeting. And when they ruined my dress, I didn't complain too much. But the fact that half of my luggage was lost during the flight over here is just the last straw! Now you better have found it, like the guy that called me this morning said, or I'll just have to call my daddy and let him know what's going on." Cordelia leaned forward and fixed the woman with her steely gaze. "And believe me, you *really* don't want me to do that."
The woman remained unaffected by Cordelia's tirade. "Name, please." She waited for Cordelia's answer with a pen poised above her notepad.
"Cordelia Chase," the brunette replied, as if it were obvious.
The blonde nodded and made a note on her notepad. "Yes, we have your name right here. Your luggage has been found and is waiting for you at baggage claim 6." Gesturing to a short, balding man, she added, "James will escort you there."
Cordelia glanced over the small man and replied, "I suppose that will be acceptable."
As he led her away, Cordelia glanced over her shoulder and frowned, quickly turning back around. He was still there. He'd been following her since she left the hotel, but she'd just thought that she'd been imagining things at first. After all, what would a random bellhop want with her? But he was still back there and it was starting to make her very nervous. Then Cordelia stiffened her spine and followed James with her head held high. They were in a public place-though the one-runway airport was tiny compared to LAX-there was no way the bellhop stalker could do anything to her.
James paused by the baggage carrousel. The first suitcase-not one of hers -- was just cresting over the top of the machine. "It should come up here any moment. It missed the flight from California, so we had it shipped on the next flight."
"It's the least you could have done," Cordelia replied, distracted from her stalker by the precarious luggage situation. "I've been dying without my hair dryer and my Sketchers. Now you'd better just wait right here until the bags get here, because if all four of them are not here and intact, I'm going to have to speak to your supervisor."
"Yes, miss," James replied. "I had no intention of leaving." Passengers surged all around them. Cordelia was jostled several times as hurried men, women and children snatched bags from around her.
"How rude!" she remarked loudly, hoping to chasten them.
On the other side of the room, Giles and Joyce led their charges slowly toward the baggage carrouselel. They had to take their time due to Oz and his crutches.
"Why did we bring you with us again?" Buffy teased her friend. Xander squeezed her hand, which had somehow found its way into hers during the walk up from the plane. "You remember, he and his crutches are our ticket to special treatment and early boarding."
"You just have to put up with my slowness now," Oz added with a good-natured smile.
"It's all for the best," Joyce added. "Look, most of the other people have already gotten their things."
The other looked around, and true to her words, the crowd was rapidly dissipating.
"That means our stuff will be easier to find," Buffy cried, pulling Xander along toward the carrousel. She scanned the moving track, but didn't see any familiar bags. Then she heard something that made her wince.
"Where are my bags, Mr. Airport Guy? You said they were on this flight!" Buffy turned to the side and came face-to-face with none other than Cordelia Chase. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to the Caribbean."
Cordelia's face grew even more horrified. "Nooo! I'm going to kill you, Daddy," she groaned.
Xander and Buffy looked at each other in confusion. "Um... Cordelia. I'm Xander Harris-not Daddy."
"Unless there's something you're not telling me," Buffy said with a smirk.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "My father forced me to spend my Spring Break in this boring country where there's nothing to do but go to museums and see huge clocks, and to top it all off you dweebs are here, too! This must be the worst Spring Break ever!"
"Thanks, Cordelia," Buffy said with a frown. "Great to see you, too. Really. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're going to get our stuff and leave you to... whatever."
"Er... not to break up this touching reunion," Giles inserted, "but there's something odd going on here."
Cordelia's eyes widened. "You're on a trip with the LIBRARIAN? The epitome of un-cool. I'm so glad no one important is here to see me speaking to you guys!"
Buffy looked at Giles. "What's wrong?"
Giles gestured to the rest of the room. "Don't you think it's odd that everyone but us has suddenly disappeared?"
They all looked around the room, and saw that Giles was right.
"What the heck?" Sonya muttered, moving up to stand next to Buffy.
"This is weird," Xander commented.
"Things are always weird when you guys are involved," Cordelia said, turning away from them.
James met her eyes with a small smile. "I wouldn't exactly call this weird." Cordelia raised an eyebrow at the man's familiarity, when suddenly a yell from the other side of the room attracted everyone's attention. A demon with a green, spiny face had emerged from behind a potted tree in the corner. Oddly enough, he was wearing a bellhop uniform. Cordelia screamed, and took a step back. James grabbed her arm, and pulled her next to him.
Buffy took one look at the demon and ran for him. A flying kick knocked him down, and the pair went rolling onto the floor.
"No!" the demon protested through her punches. "Not me-him!"
That remark startled Buffy enough to make her stop pummelling him. And then she heard Cordelia gasp. Buffy looked back and saw James holding a small gun, complete with a silencer, on the irritating brunette. Everyone froze.
The bellhop-demon laying underneath Buffy pushed her to the side and stood up, the spines on his face dissolving away to reveal an ordinary looking man. "I told ye, I'm not the one ye want." His voice was tense, and his eyes hardened as he watched every move James made. "It's him."
Cordelia, from her position next to the gun-wielding airport man, gasped. "Doyle?" Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell are *you* doing here?"