Kennedy found me on the floor, unconscious. I had willed away the mess I had made, but I had fainted soon after. She shook me a few times, demanding to know what had happened. My lips burned.

She laid me out on the bed, looking so frustrated. I wanted her to just calm down, to realize that things would be okay. She got so high-strung when things like this happened. Of course, I was kind of still unconscious, so I guess my thoughts didn't matter much.

I blinked heavily at her, then slowly let my hand move forward, laying it over hers. "Ken," I said with a soft smile, "I… I'm okay. I didn't mean to scare you."

Kennedy stopped her muttering, and looked down at me. "You didn't. I just want to know what the hell is going on around here. Dreams, fainting… god, would it kill you to let me in on it?"

I smiled, a bit loopy from the fainting spells. "Well, it seems to be killing me not to, huh?"

She glared. Okay, so, humor was lost on her at the moment.

"I just," I said, "I didn't know what was going on. Not until now."

Kennedy waited. I guess she wanted to know more. She gave me an expectant look.

"It's back, Kennedy," I said bluntly. "The First is back. It… it's here… it was talking to you earlier, and it talked to me. It looked like Tara, right?"

Kennedy nodded slowly, realization on her face. Goddess, she had been so easily fooled by the form of a woman she's never even met.

She spoke quietly, "I wasn't sure. I had never seen it… except for with Eve, but I didn't even know… I'm sorry, Willow."

I nodded. It didn't help much. She still wasn't anywhere close to returning my affections at the moment, and I didn't really care. My head was killing me again.

"It's okay," I said, finally, and continued, "We need to stop, we need to regroup." I looked up at her to show her I meant the entire group. The Gang.

Another nod from her. "I agree," she whispered, then regained her composure. "I'll gather the girls. We'll head for London tomorrow, go see Giles and…that Andrew kid. We'll get this taken care of, Will."

A soft laugh escaped my lips. I didn't realize until later, as she was gone informing the girls where we would be going, that I was laughing at the notion of Will being taken care of.

I knew that wasn't what she meant, but the thought lingered in my head. Sometimes, I don't need taking care of. And others, like then, I need a lot.

She had me mixed up.

The next day, we had contacted Giles, and he had arranged for a private jet to take us to England, where we would be taken to the large, imperial-ish home for the Slayers that had graduated from our little training camps.

We were taken on donkey-back to our jet, a rather small, yet big enough, aircraft. The pilot greeted us in proper English. Goddess, that was a sound for sore ears.

"Afternoon, madams," he said, in a bright, chipper, almost cockney voice. He was young for a pilot, but he looked distinguished enough. His hat and his tie were on straight, and he sat up without slouching.

Okay, so I don't know much about piloting or anything. My criteria for an effective pilot would probably get us killed.

I smiled at him, nodding. "Good afternoon to you, too. Are we going to have to stop along the way?"

He smirked. "If all goes as planned, we won't be making any pit stops in the Atlantic Ocean, miss."

"Willow," I said, holding my hand out as the girls shuffled in behind me, commanded my Kennedy.

"Brian," was his reply, shaking my hand with a firm grip. I felt a spark of energy when I gripped his hand. It wasn't definitively good or bad. I tilted my head, but smiled anyway as our hands dropped. He was looking at me oddly. Had he felt it too? Heck, was my energy good or bad these days?

I shook my head, and tried to reassure him, "Just a little shock, sorry about that. We about ready to go?"

A door was opened behind me. The lavatory. Aha…

An older man came out, smoothing out his tie, and running a hand through his graying hair. I stood up straight, and got out of his way as he stepped into the cockpit, glaring down at Brian.

"Brian, get out of my seat, and stop fooling ladies into thinking you're flying." His accent was more pronounced and stilted, and, well, older.

Brian frowned, his pale cheeks growing rosy. He stood and moved over to the other chair in the cockpit. "Sorry, Father," he mumbled.

"Father?" I asked, smirking.

Brian's Father straightened up, then sat down at the helm (whatever it's called) of the cockpit, nodding. "Harold. Harold Drewer. And you are?"

"Willow, sir," I said, extending my hand again. He looked at it like an affront to his personal space. I retracted it with a muffled apology. I definitely preferred Brian to Harold.

"I do apologize for my son's behavior, miss. He tends to jump at the chance to impress any woman he sees, whether she is," he cleared his throat, "available or not."

Brian's frown seemed to multiply. I suddenly felt very badly for him.

"Mr. Drewer, we were just talking. Keeping each other company before the big takeoff," I said softly, smiling awkwardly at Brian.

Harold simply huffed and turned to face the front of the cockpit. "Please take a seat, miss. We will be taking off in a few moments."

I glared at him, then glanced at Brian again. His eyes were sad, and his face was bright red. He was no longer self-sure and fun, he was simply walked on.

I sighed, and turned, walking back to the cabin. I took a seat beside Kennedy, and buckled up. We were facing the cockpit, and the girls were spread out around the rest of the cabin, none facing us. I smirked, and put my hand in Kennedy's, squeezing it gently.

"At least this flight to England isn't because I went evil," I said, smiling hopefully. I'm not a good icebreaker.

Kennedy raised an eyebrow at me. She finds me amusing in ways I don't know if I like to be found amusing. "Yeah, that's never a good reason to go anywhere, Will." She laughed, and nodded up to the cockpit, where Brian and Harold were double-checking everything. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, Brian?" I asked, smiling. "Son of the pilot. He was pretty nice, but his dad's a jerk."

The plane engine came to life beneath us, and Harold's voice came over the speakers. "Everyone must be secure before we may take off." Goddess, did he ever say something in a way that wasn't a command?

We sat, ready to take off, until his voice came on again. "Everyone must be buckled!" he nearly shouted.

Kennedy glanced around, looking for the girl who must still be unbuckled, and she spotted her. A small, shy girl with short brown hair and large, deep eyes sat next to a window, gazing out of it, her seatbelt not fastened.

She was homesick already.

Kennedy barked at her in Spanish to buckle up. The tears were already in her eyes when she shakily connected the two ends of her belt, then returned to looking out the window.

"Tell her we'll come back," I told Kennedy in a whisper.

Kennedy shook her head. "We won't, not with them, and it doesn't matter anyway," she said quietly, though harshly. "Her family's gone."

"Then who is she crying over?" I asked.

Kennedy turned, and nodded to the girl again, "Que es tu problema?"

I winced. Even I had understood that. Kennedy had many things, but tact was not one of them. I was dating a butch Cordelia, to some degree. I giggled to myself at that thought, no matter how disturbing it was. Cordelia in leather, spiked hair and plus 30 pounds. Heh.

I was drawn out of amusement with the look that the girl gave me. She covered her mouth, mumbled something in Spanish, and turned away from us, pulling a blue blanket up over herself.

Kennedy looked annoyed. "She won't answer. Guess it's not that important."

The look in the girl's eyes stayed with me, and I knew in that moment that she had seen something important out there.

But I was positive that the family she had seen was not her own.

The flight was pretty uneventful for the first few hours, even though we were allowed to unbuckle and walk around. There really wasn't much room to walk around in, anyway. I stayed beside Kennedy, occasionally sharing some looks, whispers and kisses, but nothing too serious or engaging.

I missed having someone to discuss things with. Kennedy and I spoke, and I loved some of our conversations. But I didn't have an intellectual equal anywhere near me. Maybe that's why I was so happy at the chance to see Giles again.

The cockpit door slid open somewhere around the third hour of being in the air. I was reading a book I had purchased from a peddler on the road to our flight. It was a cheap romance novel, but it was better than spending the whole time idly talking about nothingness.

I looked up from the book, and smiled as Brian stepped out. He looked shaken. No wonder, really.

Kennedy was asleep on my shoulder; she looked content, and I was happy to have her there. I nodded softly to the seat across from us against the wall. He took the offer, and sighed in relief as he sat.

"The flying get boring?" I asked, dog-earing the page I was on in the book, so that I could talk.

"Yeah," he said, looking around awkwardly, as if searching for bugs. "That and listening to my father berate me for hours."

I sighed. "That's not so fun, yeah."

Kennedy shifted, and I reached up, gently running my fingers through her soft, dark hair. She smiled, and snuggled a bit closer.

She was totally awake. Attention whore.

I looked back up to Brian, whose eyes were alight with realization.

"Oh," was all he said.

I blushed, "Oh, yeah… that, um… we are, kinda…"

"No, I get it. It's alright, I just… I didn't know." He looked embarrassed.

"Sorry," I said softly. Kennedy didn't move. Maybe she was really asleep.

He shook his head, laughing. His grin was bright, despite the horror behind the cockpit doors. "Despite my father's opinion, I am not instantly smitten with every woman I see," he said.

I raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Thanks? I think," I chuckled. "It's a relief to know that I wasn't going to have to pry you off of me by the end of the flight."

Brian laughed again. "There are things about me that my father doesn't know, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

I tilted my head. "What, got a girlfriend already? A wife, kids?"

He shook his head, and ran a hand through his black hair. "No, none of that, I'm afraid."

I looked confused, I guess, because he sighed and shook his head at me. "Look," he said, leaning down to lift up his right pant leg. He pulled his sock down to reveal a name etched into his ankle.

Mark.

A slow smile spread across my face, and I looked up at him with a subtle nod. "I… he can't know of that. If he did, he would… well, he can't kill me for it, but he certainly would fire me. This business brings in enough money for me to live off it for ages."

I nodded, and made a zipper motion across my lips. "You're safe with me, Brian."

"Thank you, Willow." He smiled at me again. His smile made me happy.

We talked idly for a few more minutes, before my curiosity got the better of me.

"Do you know who you're flying for, Brian?" I asked.

He nodded quickly. "Oh, yes. It was the Council, right? Terrible tragedy, that. But now, I suppose we're flying for its replacement."

So he did know. Good.

"Yeah, that's about it. Except this is much better than the first Council. They were… they were kind of disgusting," I said, a gross expression on my face. "I don't miss them much, but of course I didn't wish any of them dead. Well, I did in the past, but… not actively."

The thought of all those dead Watchers made shiver. Some of them hadn't been bad. After all, we'd gotten Giles and Wesley from them. But most of them had been prigs. Or wankers, depending on where you were from in Britain.

Brian fell silent, and the awkwardness of that quiet made me shift in my seat.

"How long 'til we land?" I asked him.

"Not much longer. An hour and a half, maybe. This jet goes a bit faster than most commercial airliners."

"Enchanted?" I questioned.

He smirked. "Maybe a bit," he said with a wink.

I chuckled. "That's always handy. Hey… do you have email? I… it might be fun to keep in touch. Be a little support for you."

His face lit up even more than it had. "Oh… oh, okay. Yeah, hang on," he said, searching around for some paper. He pulled a postcard from a magazine in the seat next to him, and he jotted down his email address for me. I tore half of the card off when he gave it to me, and gave him mine. WedWicca23, that's me.

I was ready to explain myself, before he laughed. "Be vewy caweful," he said with a giggle.

I was amazed. "Nobody ever gets that! Oh goddess, that's great," I laughed. "Everybody always thinks I'm married, and… that was so not the message I was trying to convey."

We continued laughing and talking until he looked at the time, then out the window, and gulped.

He sighed, and frowned as he said, "I think I better get back to the 'pit. Father may get testy if I don't return to help with the landing."

I sighed, but nodded. "Alright. I'll come say bye before we head out, and I'll send you an email as soon as we get to a computer," I said softly, holding an arm out.

He stood, and leant down, hugging me with one arm. I smiled, squeezing him softly, trying not to move too much. He kissed me on the cheek, and I kissed him back, then let go as he did.

"See ya, Brian. Good luck with your dad," I said.

He nodded. "Thanks, Willow. Talk to you soon."

As he turned and left, Kennedy snorted and lifted her head. "We there yet?" she mumbled.

I held her close, and nodded. "Almost there, Ken. Just hang on," I whispered softly, preparing for a bumpy landing.