Here I am, writing again. It's Wednesday, so I'm halfway through the week of hell. I decided to take a break from working to do some writing. Chances are that this won't come out until way, way, after I'm writing it. Yay for future tense - no, I guess that really wasn't funny. Story time.
Dumbledore eyed Buffy fiercely. "And why is it that you have traveled so far to seek me out?" he asked.
"I...well, we...need your help," she said. "It's something really, really important, too," she added.
"Yes, of course it is," Dumbledore said, as though he wasn't quite sure whether to believe the blonde American or not.
Buffy decided that further explanation was necessary. "It's about Voldemort," she said.
The reaction from the surrounding pub was explosive. Several witches shrieked; a man at the bar stood up fast, hitting his knees against the bar and instantly falling back to his stool; and Tom dropped the mug he was cleaning to the floor, where it shattered.
Dumbledore and the boy were the only two people who seemed unaffected by the sound of Voldemort's name. No, that wasn't entirely true; they were, at least, surprised to hear the name; but they didn't fear it. Buffy took note of this and filed the note away in the back of her brain.
Dumbledore's gaze became more intense. "There are few who actually speak Voldemort's name aloud," he said.
"You do," Buffy pointed out.
"Yes...I do," Dumbledore agreed. "But I am part of what some might describe as a 'brave' minority. And you speak his name without the faintest trace of fear," he said. The look he gave her was like a razor.
"Maybe we don't fear him," Buffy said, looking around at her group. Faith nodded.
Dumbledore just stared for a moment. Then he nodded, slowly. "You don't...hmmm...yes, well, perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere else," he said.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "Maybe at...umm...Bogdarts," she finished, nodding.
"Yes, at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, putting stress on the name of his school.
Buffy grimaced slightly, but nodded again. "Yeah...yeah, that's the one," she said.
"If you would, kindly, follow me, I believe I can provide transportation," Dumbledore said. He walked over to the corner of the room. "Ali...Ali, is that you?" he asked.
Buffy looked at what he was speaking to. Her first impression had been that it was a pile of old rags, but now she realized that it was a person under there.
The rags shifted, and Ali Bashir lifted his head out. "'Lo, Dumbledore," he said. "Got what you asked me to," he added. He sounded sober enough, but Harry and Buffy both guessed that he was, in fact, drunk.
Dumbledore leaned closer to him and sniffed. Then, pulling out his wand, he said, softly, "Prosoberis."
Instantly, Ali Bashir shot into the air, his face purple. He gasped at the air for a moment until the violent color of his face finally went down. Once he had regained his breath, Ali looked at Dumbledore.
Before he could say anything, Dumbledore gestured towards the door. "Lets go get it, then," he said.
He picked up Ali by the scruff of his neck and hauled him from the Leaky Cauldron, the boy following closely. Buffy and the others followed, too, but a bit more slowly.
Willow turned, excitedly, to Kennedy. "Wow! That was magic! And it was so much like mine - why, I think I know that spell!"
"Calm down, Willow," Kennedy said. "I'm sure that we'll be seeing more."
Willow looked her. "Yeah, we will, but still...magic!" Willow said, in the same perky voice that had once been her trademark and was now making resurgence.
Kennedy looked at Willow strangely. This was a new side of Willow, a more...cute...side. Kennedy was used to Willow being more sexy.
Then again, cute is just as sexy.
The group moved through the Alley in a relaxed but tightly knit group. Everything seemed to be going fine; Dumbledore was conversing with Buffy about recent events in the muggle world; Harry was pretty much by himself, though he was distinctly aware of the attention of one of the girls in the group; and the others were all commingling. Things were going fine.
Quite suddenly, several of the girls turned, almost in unison, to stare at a small group of males leaning against the window and wall of Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Buffy stopped talking abruptly. "What is it?" Dumbledore asked.
"Those men are vampires," she answered, indicating the small gaggle of guys.
Dumbledore looked at her quizzically. "How do you know this?" he asked.
"I just do," Buffy said. She turned to the Slayers. "Faith, it's you and me; I don't want them getting into any unnecessary fights. No, Kennedy, don't complain; I don't need you getting killed now."
Buffy and Faith walked away from the group. "How do you want 'em?" Faith asked. "Wanna go for synchronized deal and impress Uncle Scrooge over there?"
Buffy looked at her quizzically. "Oh, come on," Faith said, almost playfully. "Just this once, for old times sake?"
"Faith, 'old times' would involve you killing people and me putting you in a coma," Buffy said. They were getting nearer to the vamps, trying to appear unconcerned with them.
"Yeah, there is that problem," Faith agreed. "But we could skip that part."
Buffy grinned. "Sounds good." This was said just as she came within range of the first vamp.
Her kick came as a slight surprise to the vampire, who had actually been assessing Buffy as a possible dinner entrŽe. He was already leaning against the wall; the force of Buffy's kick drove him into the wall so hard that it was dented.
Faith also managed to get a quick upper hand. Her right jab caught the vamp in the face, disorienting him for a moment. It was enough to let Faith set him up. She delivered a quick kick to his abdomen, doubling him up, and she plunged her stake directly through his back and into his heart.
The vamp shuddered, and turned to dust.
Faith whirled, but wasn't fast enough. The second of the four vamps had jumped her. She was caught quickly in the face and the chest, and flung violently back into the street. Just as she was getting back to her feet, a jet of red light flew past her. It connected with the vampire, and it fell down, unconscious. Faith turned to see who had helped her.
Harry stood staring at the vampire he'd just stunned. He'd never fought a vampire before; indeed, he'd never even seen one. It was vicious looking, perhaps even more so then those other creatures he'd fought.
As Buffy dusted her last vamp, Faith walked calmly over to the stunned vampire and jabbed here stake into it. It instantly exploded into dust.
Faith and Buffy walked back to the group. "So much for the synchronized slaying," Faith said.
"No big," Buffy said. "We'll get them next time."
Faith smiled.
Rejoining the group, Buffy went up to Dumbledore. Before she could say anything, he said, "Very impressive."
"Well, we try," Buffy said. "Do you think that you could use us in your fight?"
They resumed walking. "I'm not sure," Dumbledore admitted. "But I do think that the more people on our side, the better."
Buffy smiled. "The more the merrier," she said, making an attempt at a joke.
Dumbledore laughed. They rounded a corner, and Ali Basir finally told them to stop. "Here they are," he said.
At first, Buffy didn't know what he was talking about. They were in a small, dingy gap between the buildings of Diagon Alley; a gap that was devoid of anything besides some old, ratty carpets.
"These are the best you could find?" Dumbledore asked.
"Top, grade A quality," Ali Bashir confirmed. "The very best. I know the guy who put the Flying Charm on it personally, and he's trustworthy enough."
Dumbledore nodded, but everyone assembled, with the possible exception of Ali Bashir, noticed that he wasn't completely convinced.
It was then that it clicked in Buffy's mind. Before she could stop it, she'd blurted out, "Flying carpets?"
Dumbledore nodded. He muttered something that no one could hear, and suddenly, the carpets rose into the air, as though being held by invisible strings.
"Cool," Kennedy couldn't help but say.
"I'd suggest that you all hold onto them, tightly," Dumbledore said, as they mounted their carpets. "Most flying carpets are one speed only: fast."
He wasn't kidding. As soon as they'd all climbed aboard a carpet, the whole lot zoomed into the air. Several people nearly fell off, but none did, thanks to handy grip bars installed on the carpets.
"Grip bars on carpets..." Xander muttered. "And we all thought that Sunnydale High had some strange things going on..."
Willow and Buffy, who had joined him on his carpet, laughed. Xander was making jokes again; Xander was acting more like his old self, in other words.
His old self, Buffy thought. Who had Xander been before she'd moved to Sunnydale? Who had any of them been? And what might they have been...?
They'd been down that road before, of course. Buffy knew what Sunnydale probably would have been like if she had never moved in. But still, she couldn't help but wonder about it all.
Xander and Willow had been two perfectly normal high school friends. Now, Willow was the most powerful Wiccan in the world, and Xander had lost an eye in the fight against the source of all evil on Earth.
Normalcy ran and hid whenever Buffy went somewhere.
She smiled as she saw her two friends laughing and joking again. It had been so long since she'd seen either of them truly happy...so long since any of them had been able to relax entirely...
She straightened slightly. She could never relax entirely - too much of that would lead to bloody, gory, generally unpleasant death. Of that, Buffy was sure.
"Where's Kennedy?" Buffy asked, suddenly, before she realized she was talking.
"Hmm...? Oh, yeah," Willow said. "She said she was going to ride with someone else, and we really shouldn't crowd each other too much - you know, we don't really know how these wizards would accept a couple of super powerful American lesbians," Willow said, her face falling halfway through into a worried look. "What if they're intolerant?"
"Willow, I'm sure that there is nothing to be worried about," Buffy said. "They grow up around magic - like in a fairy tale - I bet they sing about racial equality every night before bed."
"Intolerance? I've never met anyone more concerned with the petty details than our dear Minister," Dumbledore was saying to Kennedy. "You needn't worry, though; Hogwarts will always be welcome to you and your friends, and if the Minister gives you any trouble, than I'll make sure that he becomes aware of your...err...particular strengths."
Kennedy grinned. "Thanks, dude."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and muttered, so that no one could hear him, "Americans."
Angel was on a plane. This was his primary concern for the moment, though, buried in the back of his mind, he was worried about Buffy.
Why, oh why, did I do this? He thought. Thinking that Whistler could be persuasive was ridiculous; the little man was incredibly annoying most of the time.
And yet...this wasn't the first time Whistler had convinced Angel to do something drastic. And this was not nearly as drastic as the last time. Perhaps that should have calmed Angel.
It didn't.
"I like boats," he said suddenly. "They're so nice and...not high," he continued. "They don't fall out of the sky much, you know?"
Whistler groaned. "Angel, buddy, we have to get there now. A boat would take too long."
Angel frowned and didn't say anything.
Angel hadn't been to England in nearly a century. It hadn't been so fun then, either - he was just passing through on his way to nowhere. His soul was still new then, and he hadn't really been sane at the time.
Now, though...now Angel was sane. He was, by a certain amount of stretching of his imagination, rested. This time it would be different.
Angel looked around the plane at the various members of his small group. Whistler had visited every corner of the Earth long before Angel had even been born. Fred had visited several other countries in her youth. Gunn had never left California, if you temporarily forgot their excursion to Pylea. And Wesley...well, England had been Wesley's home during his childhood. Angel couldn't tell what Wesley was thinking - indeed, he couldn't read Wesley, either, but that was nothing new.
Wesley's thoughts were scattered. He was intentionally avoiding thinking of any one thing in particular. The Watcher's Council was gone...he'd never really like most of his fellow Watcher's, but they were acquaintances, and they did fight evil alongside him. They weren't the best - but the greater majority of them were good people. Now, they were just dead people.
All of a sudden, and quite unbidden, Wesley thought of something, and it wiped away all of his other thoughts. One word: home...
His old home outside of London...he wondered what had happened to it. Both of his parents were long dead - and he wasn't aware of them willing the house away to anyone. Chances were it was still empty.
Wesley shuddered inwardly. The house...empty. It felt wrong, somehow.
Wesley wasn't aware of any particular plan - they'd packed and taken care of AI and Wolfram and Hart so that both business' could run themselves for a while. It was funny, really. They'd taken control of Wolfram and Hart barely two months ago, and they were already running off and leaving it to take care of itself.
Now, though, he had other things to consider. They needn't stay at the Leaky Cauldron...if...they didn't want to....they could use....his parents house.
Wesley was asleep.
Fred looked over and chuckled to herself. Wesley had just conked right out - it was hard to imagine that tough as nails Wesley was a sleeper.
Then again, it had been quite a while since any one of them had been on a plane. And Wesley hadn't always been so hard.
Fred, herself, hadn't flown for years, and the memories of her previous flights were a bit foggy. She'd been through so much since then that a trip to Disney World when she was eight didn't take top priority in her memory.
She remembered being slightly scared by the experience of flying, but only as eight years old get scared. Now, however, she got to sit back and watch as Angel and Gunn sweat bullets.
Gunn was nervous. He'd never, not once, been on a plane. It was fun, in that way that normal stuff can be fun, but it was dangerous, too. It was the kind of danger he couldn't control, and he severely didn't like that kind.
To take his mind off things, Gunn looked around at his friends. He saw Fred staring at him, and she blushed and looked away.
He really didn't need that.
Perhaps it was sooner, perhaps it was later, but eventually, the captain came on and told them that the plane would be landing shortly.
Gee- that chapter was a whole lot of nothing, huh? They traveled - that's it. Wow, lets break out the champagne! I hope to get some new and innovative stuff in the next chapter. And I'm dreadfully sorry that this took so long - I've been battling with writers block and lack of time. I have no idea when the next chapter will be out - you'll just have to be patient. It's a virtue, you know.
Dumbledore eyed Buffy fiercely. "And why is it that you have traveled so far to seek me out?" he asked.
"I...well, we...need your help," she said. "It's something really, really important, too," she added.
"Yes, of course it is," Dumbledore said, as though he wasn't quite sure whether to believe the blonde American or not.
Buffy decided that further explanation was necessary. "It's about Voldemort," she said.
The reaction from the surrounding pub was explosive. Several witches shrieked; a man at the bar stood up fast, hitting his knees against the bar and instantly falling back to his stool; and Tom dropped the mug he was cleaning to the floor, where it shattered.
Dumbledore and the boy were the only two people who seemed unaffected by the sound of Voldemort's name. No, that wasn't entirely true; they were, at least, surprised to hear the name; but they didn't fear it. Buffy took note of this and filed the note away in the back of her brain.
Dumbledore's gaze became more intense. "There are few who actually speak Voldemort's name aloud," he said.
"You do," Buffy pointed out.
"Yes...I do," Dumbledore agreed. "But I am part of what some might describe as a 'brave' minority. And you speak his name without the faintest trace of fear," he said. The look he gave her was like a razor.
"Maybe we don't fear him," Buffy said, looking around at her group. Faith nodded.
Dumbledore just stared for a moment. Then he nodded, slowly. "You don't...hmmm...yes, well, perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere else," he said.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "Maybe at...umm...Bogdarts," she finished, nodding.
"Yes, at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, putting stress on the name of his school.
Buffy grimaced slightly, but nodded again. "Yeah...yeah, that's the one," she said.
"If you would, kindly, follow me, I believe I can provide transportation," Dumbledore said. He walked over to the corner of the room. "Ali...Ali, is that you?" he asked.
Buffy looked at what he was speaking to. Her first impression had been that it was a pile of old rags, but now she realized that it was a person under there.
The rags shifted, and Ali Bashir lifted his head out. "'Lo, Dumbledore," he said. "Got what you asked me to," he added. He sounded sober enough, but Harry and Buffy both guessed that he was, in fact, drunk.
Dumbledore leaned closer to him and sniffed. Then, pulling out his wand, he said, softly, "Prosoberis."
Instantly, Ali Bashir shot into the air, his face purple. He gasped at the air for a moment until the violent color of his face finally went down. Once he had regained his breath, Ali looked at Dumbledore.
Before he could say anything, Dumbledore gestured towards the door. "Lets go get it, then," he said.
He picked up Ali by the scruff of his neck and hauled him from the Leaky Cauldron, the boy following closely. Buffy and the others followed, too, but a bit more slowly.
Willow turned, excitedly, to Kennedy. "Wow! That was magic! And it was so much like mine - why, I think I know that spell!"
"Calm down, Willow," Kennedy said. "I'm sure that we'll be seeing more."
Willow looked her. "Yeah, we will, but still...magic!" Willow said, in the same perky voice that had once been her trademark and was now making resurgence.
Kennedy looked at Willow strangely. This was a new side of Willow, a more...cute...side. Kennedy was used to Willow being more sexy.
Then again, cute is just as sexy.
The group moved through the Alley in a relaxed but tightly knit group. Everything seemed to be going fine; Dumbledore was conversing with Buffy about recent events in the muggle world; Harry was pretty much by himself, though he was distinctly aware of the attention of one of the girls in the group; and the others were all commingling. Things were going fine.
Quite suddenly, several of the girls turned, almost in unison, to stare at a small group of males leaning against the window and wall of Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Buffy stopped talking abruptly. "What is it?" Dumbledore asked.
"Those men are vampires," she answered, indicating the small gaggle of guys.
Dumbledore looked at her quizzically. "How do you know this?" he asked.
"I just do," Buffy said. She turned to the Slayers. "Faith, it's you and me; I don't want them getting into any unnecessary fights. No, Kennedy, don't complain; I don't need you getting killed now."
Buffy and Faith walked away from the group. "How do you want 'em?" Faith asked. "Wanna go for synchronized deal and impress Uncle Scrooge over there?"
Buffy looked at her quizzically. "Oh, come on," Faith said, almost playfully. "Just this once, for old times sake?"
"Faith, 'old times' would involve you killing people and me putting you in a coma," Buffy said. They were getting nearer to the vamps, trying to appear unconcerned with them.
"Yeah, there is that problem," Faith agreed. "But we could skip that part."
Buffy grinned. "Sounds good." This was said just as she came within range of the first vamp.
Her kick came as a slight surprise to the vampire, who had actually been assessing Buffy as a possible dinner entrŽe. He was already leaning against the wall; the force of Buffy's kick drove him into the wall so hard that it was dented.
Faith also managed to get a quick upper hand. Her right jab caught the vamp in the face, disorienting him for a moment. It was enough to let Faith set him up. She delivered a quick kick to his abdomen, doubling him up, and she plunged her stake directly through his back and into his heart.
The vamp shuddered, and turned to dust.
Faith whirled, but wasn't fast enough. The second of the four vamps had jumped her. She was caught quickly in the face and the chest, and flung violently back into the street. Just as she was getting back to her feet, a jet of red light flew past her. It connected with the vampire, and it fell down, unconscious. Faith turned to see who had helped her.
Harry stood staring at the vampire he'd just stunned. He'd never fought a vampire before; indeed, he'd never even seen one. It was vicious looking, perhaps even more so then those other creatures he'd fought.
As Buffy dusted her last vamp, Faith walked calmly over to the stunned vampire and jabbed here stake into it. It instantly exploded into dust.
Faith and Buffy walked back to the group. "So much for the synchronized slaying," Faith said.
"No big," Buffy said. "We'll get them next time."
Faith smiled.
Rejoining the group, Buffy went up to Dumbledore. Before she could say anything, he said, "Very impressive."
"Well, we try," Buffy said. "Do you think that you could use us in your fight?"
They resumed walking. "I'm not sure," Dumbledore admitted. "But I do think that the more people on our side, the better."
Buffy smiled. "The more the merrier," she said, making an attempt at a joke.
Dumbledore laughed. They rounded a corner, and Ali Basir finally told them to stop. "Here they are," he said.
At first, Buffy didn't know what he was talking about. They were in a small, dingy gap between the buildings of Diagon Alley; a gap that was devoid of anything besides some old, ratty carpets.
"These are the best you could find?" Dumbledore asked.
"Top, grade A quality," Ali Bashir confirmed. "The very best. I know the guy who put the Flying Charm on it personally, and he's trustworthy enough."
Dumbledore nodded, but everyone assembled, with the possible exception of Ali Bashir, noticed that he wasn't completely convinced.
It was then that it clicked in Buffy's mind. Before she could stop it, she'd blurted out, "Flying carpets?"
Dumbledore nodded. He muttered something that no one could hear, and suddenly, the carpets rose into the air, as though being held by invisible strings.
"Cool," Kennedy couldn't help but say.
"I'd suggest that you all hold onto them, tightly," Dumbledore said, as they mounted their carpets. "Most flying carpets are one speed only: fast."
He wasn't kidding. As soon as they'd all climbed aboard a carpet, the whole lot zoomed into the air. Several people nearly fell off, but none did, thanks to handy grip bars installed on the carpets.
"Grip bars on carpets..." Xander muttered. "And we all thought that Sunnydale High had some strange things going on..."
Willow and Buffy, who had joined him on his carpet, laughed. Xander was making jokes again; Xander was acting more like his old self, in other words.
His old self, Buffy thought. Who had Xander been before she'd moved to Sunnydale? Who had any of them been? And what might they have been...?
They'd been down that road before, of course. Buffy knew what Sunnydale probably would have been like if she had never moved in. But still, she couldn't help but wonder about it all.
Xander and Willow had been two perfectly normal high school friends. Now, Willow was the most powerful Wiccan in the world, and Xander had lost an eye in the fight against the source of all evil on Earth.
Normalcy ran and hid whenever Buffy went somewhere.
She smiled as she saw her two friends laughing and joking again. It had been so long since she'd seen either of them truly happy...so long since any of them had been able to relax entirely...
She straightened slightly. She could never relax entirely - too much of that would lead to bloody, gory, generally unpleasant death. Of that, Buffy was sure.
"Where's Kennedy?" Buffy asked, suddenly, before she realized she was talking.
"Hmm...? Oh, yeah," Willow said. "She said she was going to ride with someone else, and we really shouldn't crowd each other too much - you know, we don't really know how these wizards would accept a couple of super powerful American lesbians," Willow said, her face falling halfway through into a worried look. "What if they're intolerant?"
"Willow, I'm sure that there is nothing to be worried about," Buffy said. "They grow up around magic - like in a fairy tale - I bet they sing about racial equality every night before bed."
"Intolerance? I've never met anyone more concerned with the petty details than our dear Minister," Dumbledore was saying to Kennedy. "You needn't worry, though; Hogwarts will always be welcome to you and your friends, and if the Minister gives you any trouble, than I'll make sure that he becomes aware of your...err...particular strengths."
Kennedy grinned. "Thanks, dude."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and muttered, so that no one could hear him, "Americans."
Angel was on a plane. This was his primary concern for the moment, though, buried in the back of his mind, he was worried about Buffy.
Why, oh why, did I do this? He thought. Thinking that Whistler could be persuasive was ridiculous; the little man was incredibly annoying most of the time.
And yet...this wasn't the first time Whistler had convinced Angel to do something drastic. And this was not nearly as drastic as the last time. Perhaps that should have calmed Angel.
It didn't.
"I like boats," he said suddenly. "They're so nice and...not high," he continued. "They don't fall out of the sky much, you know?"
Whistler groaned. "Angel, buddy, we have to get there now. A boat would take too long."
Angel frowned and didn't say anything.
Angel hadn't been to England in nearly a century. It hadn't been so fun then, either - he was just passing through on his way to nowhere. His soul was still new then, and he hadn't really been sane at the time.
Now, though...now Angel was sane. He was, by a certain amount of stretching of his imagination, rested. This time it would be different.
Angel looked around the plane at the various members of his small group. Whistler had visited every corner of the Earth long before Angel had even been born. Fred had visited several other countries in her youth. Gunn had never left California, if you temporarily forgot their excursion to Pylea. And Wesley...well, England had been Wesley's home during his childhood. Angel couldn't tell what Wesley was thinking - indeed, he couldn't read Wesley, either, but that was nothing new.
Wesley's thoughts were scattered. He was intentionally avoiding thinking of any one thing in particular. The Watcher's Council was gone...he'd never really like most of his fellow Watcher's, but they were acquaintances, and they did fight evil alongside him. They weren't the best - but the greater majority of them were good people. Now, they were just dead people.
All of a sudden, and quite unbidden, Wesley thought of something, and it wiped away all of his other thoughts. One word: home...
His old home outside of London...he wondered what had happened to it. Both of his parents were long dead - and he wasn't aware of them willing the house away to anyone. Chances were it was still empty.
Wesley shuddered inwardly. The house...empty. It felt wrong, somehow.
Wesley wasn't aware of any particular plan - they'd packed and taken care of AI and Wolfram and Hart so that both business' could run themselves for a while. It was funny, really. They'd taken control of Wolfram and Hart barely two months ago, and they were already running off and leaving it to take care of itself.
Now, though, he had other things to consider. They needn't stay at the Leaky Cauldron...if...they didn't want to....they could use....his parents house.
Wesley was asleep.
Fred looked over and chuckled to herself. Wesley had just conked right out - it was hard to imagine that tough as nails Wesley was a sleeper.
Then again, it had been quite a while since any one of them had been on a plane. And Wesley hadn't always been so hard.
Fred, herself, hadn't flown for years, and the memories of her previous flights were a bit foggy. She'd been through so much since then that a trip to Disney World when she was eight didn't take top priority in her memory.
She remembered being slightly scared by the experience of flying, but only as eight years old get scared. Now, however, she got to sit back and watch as Angel and Gunn sweat bullets.
Gunn was nervous. He'd never, not once, been on a plane. It was fun, in that way that normal stuff can be fun, but it was dangerous, too. It was the kind of danger he couldn't control, and he severely didn't like that kind.
To take his mind off things, Gunn looked around at his friends. He saw Fred staring at him, and she blushed and looked away.
He really didn't need that.
Perhaps it was sooner, perhaps it was later, but eventually, the captain came on and told them that the plane would be landing shortly.
Gee- that chapter was a whole lot of nothing, huh? They traveled - that's it. Wow, lets break out the champagne! I hope to get some new and innovative stuff in the next chapter. And I'm dreadfully sorry that this took so long - I've been battling with writers block and lack of time. I have no idea when the next chapter will be out - you'll just have to be patient. It's a virtue, you know.