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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for such a posting delay! Deacon has a long-term illness and recently it has gotten worse, and he was only able to write a little each week. However, two weeks from now there will be a new chapter (I have it already) but in the future, if the posting schedule is a little wonky, it is because it is based on when Deacon can stand to write.

He has informed me though, that reviews definitely make him feel more motivated, so if everybody that reads could leave one, you are more likely to get a faster chapter. He'd just like to know that he is writing this mammoth of a trilogy for a reason, so let's give him one, OK? Any comments, concerns, questions, can be directed to our e-mail: hm_ascendent3@yahoo.com
Sincerely,Rachelia
They made it to a subway station and caught the first train to the JFK airport. As the train rattled away with the screech of tortured metal and glass, the group noticed they were not alone: a group of about six or seven young men, dressed in ragged clothing and bearing the demeanor of scavengers were eying them hungrily.

“Spike? Go deter the bad men,” Buffy instructed quietly.

“I’ll deter them,” Alec muttered quietly, his hand transforming into a length of razor sharp steel.

Buffy put a restraining hand on his shoulder, “Chill bro, I said ‘deter’ not ‘slaughter.’”

“I would find being slaughtered a good deterrent,” Alec countered but he didn’t press the issue as Spike casually turned to face the other men, one of whom was approaching.

“Yo homes, don’t you know this is our train?” One of them, presumably the leader said.

“Yeah man, you got to pay,” another one spoke up, “Gotta give us a little something.”

“Pay? Okay then,” Spike grinned, then with a bestial roar his face shifted into its demonic visage.

“You want some? Come get some!” he cried out.

The remainder of their journey was uneventful and the Scoobies disembarked without any further incident.


.The group entered JFK airport: it was huge and loud with great bright fluorescent lights that hung down high above their heads, bathing everything in a sickly white light.

Giles headed over to the ticket counter: their tickets were already waiting for them, whilst the others milled about taking in the sights of a major airport, some for the first time.

Alec, in his wheelchair, gently tapped Willow’s hands, which were resting on the handles. She looked down at him.

“Hmmm?”

Alec gestured at a news stand. Pretty generic: magazines, candy, gum, etc…

“Could you give me a lift over there?” he asked.

Willow smiled indulgently and wheeled her lover towards the news stand and over to a rotating display of sunglasses.

“Expecting to get a lot of sun in Mexico?” she asked wryly.

“It’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility,” he quipped back at her.

And if anything else decides to crawl through my eyeball, this should at least keep it from being known to all, he thought to himself as he selected a pair of mirrored wraparound shades. It reflected their faces in a miasma of pinks and blues and purples. He placed them on his face and looked up at Willow.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Like an alien,” she replied with a grin.

“Thank you Ziggy Stardust,” he said and did his best to hide his sigh of relief that the light was now blocked from his eyes and no longer inducing the pounding headache he had been enduring since they had arrived.

Giles strode over to them.

“It’s time to go,” he said quietly, “Our plane is boarding and they tend to board first class ahead of everyone else.”

“Joy,” Alec muttered bitterly.

“None of that,” Willow admonished him, “You’re going to be just fine.”




“See, you’re just fine!” Willow said cheerily. They had all boarded the plane and were sitting together in aisles of three, waiting for take off. Alec was sitting with Buffy and Willow, Angel and Faith were sitting together as were Xander and Anya, and, finally Giles and Dawn. Spike meanwhile was looming over Alec’s chair, enjoying his friend’s discomfort immensely.

“Yeah, cheer up mate,” Spike said with a grin, “Look at it this way, if we do crash, the force of impact will kill us all instantly in a hellish fireball. You won’t suffer a whit!”

“I. Hate. You.” Alec gritted out from clenched teeth as he gripped the armrest with white-knuckled tension and tried to control his breathing.

“What’cha doing?” Buffy asked.

“It’s a breathing exercise I picked up from a monk I knew, it’s supposed to clear the mind and induce a state of powerful relaxation.”

“Oh. Does it work?”

“Do I look bloody well relaxed to you?!”

Buffy laughed out loud even as a woman pushing a drink cart approached them. Spike grinned at her arrival.

“Ah good, reload,” He held up his empty glass, “Another serving of my good friend Jack D and get something for my greenish friend here,” he said with a smirk pointing to Alec.

The woman turned and gave Alec a sympathetic eye, “Nervous flier?”

“First time flier,” he responded and then he added at least in a plane to himself.

“Would you care for a nightcap to take the edge off?” she asked.

Alec regarded the metal cart with something akin to wonderment.

“There’s liquor in there?” he asked.

The stewardess nodded doing her best to keep her professional smile in place and not let her discomfort towards this odd individual show, “Yes sir, what may I get you?”

“Whatever is in arm’s reach,” Reaching into the cart, Alec grabbed a fistful of mini bottles of liquor, opened them, poured them all into a small plastic cup and drained the whole thing in a single long pull.

“Classy,” Buffy commented.

“Sod off,” Alec replied.

“Remember: admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery.

“My bloody problem is that I’m trapped in this evil contraption getting ready to be hurled into the night sky like a sodding ping pong ball where I shall be residing at an altitude reserved for deities and particularly stupid birds.”

Suddenly there was a great lurch as the jet’s engines began to warm up. Alec’s white knuckled grip got a little tighter.

“Oh god we’re all going to die,” he whispered between pale lips. Buffy and Spike laughed uproariously.

“Nurse! An emergency round!” Spike called out for the stewardess, who by this point was considering a serious career change.

The jet took off without incident (despite Alec’s dire portents) and soon enough the cabin was dark and quiet.





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