So Latitude is all Buffy/Wes, all the time?

Yep.

Latitude is (thank goodness, and it's actually kind of hard, and it means TALKING to people) the guild site for the pairing.

Ah, heck. I should bring the whole site with me, and finish some essays while I'm at it. Hmm. An essay submission page... don't anyone let me forget!

Recalibration is my personal archive. Latitude is for anyone who writes Buffy/Wes. (Cough*Dana*Cough)

I need to put together a Recs page for pairings on my site.

late night ficcing that'll make more sense when I'm awake

Nearly three a.m., and the traffic was fairly light on the freeway north. Giles drove easily and not quite fast enough to attract attention.

Spike bend down the backs of two of the bus' bench seats, making uneven but adequate sleeping surfaces. Joyce made a wry comment about road trips to concerts, but she stretched out gratefully with Dawn at her side. On the other side of the aisle, Willow settled Tara against her. Anya curled up in the corner of her seat and went efficiently to sleep.

Buffy made her way carefully up the aisle, checking on people. She smiled a little at the sight of Dawn curled up under Spike's duster.

A couple of seats back, Xander still hung over the back of Anya's seat, one arm reaching down so he could lightly stroke her hair.

Buffy sat down next to him. "Field trip from hell, huh?"

"I said that when I saw this thing. I thought the deal with graduation was that you never had to ride in one of these again." His smile was tired, though, and the humor reached nowhere near his eyes.

She rubbed his shoulder. "You should get some sleep, you're going to be driving in a few hours. It's kind of neat. Me and Willow and--and the others, we do the mystic thingies, but when it comes to real life stuff, we always yell for you."

"Yeah," he said. "I'm Average Normal Guy, Mr. Everyday."

"And we need him," Buffy said, disturbed by the bitterness she heard. "I mean, do you want me to drive?"

His smile answered. "Not at all."

"Then get some sleep."

"I don't think I can, not with people up and moving around." He nodded towards the back of the bus.

The last few windows on either side had been spray painted black. Spike crouched among the rear seats, rearranging baggage.

Buffy patted Xander's arm. "I'll go tell him to keep it down." She frowned at the look of distrust Xander sent towards Spike. "It's only Spike, he's harmless."

"Yeah, harmless. Look, Buffy . . ."

He went silent. With every appearance of unconcern, Spike settled back on his heels, as if he was only stretching his back. But from under lowered eyelids he was watching Xander. The scarred eyebrow quirked when he saw Xander looking back, and his faint smile dared Xander to tell what he knew. But an eye-flick towards Willow was reminder enough about the unwilling bargain.

"I don't trust him," Xander finally said, still looking back at Spike. "I've got my reasons even beyond him being a vampire. Helpless is a great act for somebody just waiting for you to turn your back."

"He can't do anything with the chip," Buffy said just a little impatiently. "You know that."

"Yeah, the chip." Xander twitched at the knowing smirk that went across Spike's face before the vampire went back to whatever work he was on. "But what about him?" He nodded towards the driver's seat.

"Look, he wants to stop Glory as much as the rest of us--"

"And after?"

"Huh?"

Xander took Buffy's hand in both of his. "I understand that he doesn't want Glory to win. I'm all the way with that. But what if we win? Somehow we always manage to pull it off, stop the apocalypse. When the sun rises the day after tomorrow and Glory doesn't get her hands on Dawn in time to open that portal, what then? All world-saving deals with vampires will be done, all bets are off. What do we do about Giles the vampire then?"

Buffy stared over his shoulder, out the window at the passing darkness. An off-ramp with attendant all-night gas stations and quiki-marts went by. There were cars parked in front of those mundane little places, and people with their own three a.m. business going in and out. She wondered if there were any vampires over there.

"I don't know," she finally said softly.

"Except you do know. He's a vampire, no soul, no chip, doing his vampire stuff in the night. You're the Vampire Slayer."

She looked to the front of the bus. Giles had only one hand on the wheel; the other was dangling out the partially open window next to him. He glanced up at the rear view mirror, and Buffy realized with a start that the mirror was angled correctly for him to see the interior of the bus. But she couldn't see him, just like she wouldn't see any vampire.

Xander looked at the driver's seat and sighed. "Maybe, if you'd done it when you first found out, it wouldn't have been so bad. But you're getting used to him this way. And he's being very careful not to let anybody see anything too weird. He knows as long as he can make us think of him the way he was that he's pretty safe. He knows you're not very good hurting the people you care about."

"You're wrong," she said, still staring at the back of Giles' head. "I'm very good at it." She shook herself. "Get some sleep, Xander. We can't pull this off if you collapse on us."

He nodded, then kissed the fingers of the hand he still held. "You, too."

"Sure."

They both knew it was a lie, but he accepted it and let her go. He reached for his jacket, shoved it between his head and the window, and closed his eyes.

Spike didn't look up from his work as Buffy sat down in a seat near him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Building a crypt of sorts away from the sun. Making room to lie down under the seats." He looked at his hands. "Filthy floors on this thing."

"It's what we could get. But why under the seats? Aren't the windows being black enough?"

"They'll do for me, pet, but Ripper's another matter. Even if he's not in any danger, ambient sunlight will be painful for him."

"That's not fair."

"Perks of survival, love," he grinned. "We get tougher the older we get. You find out from him where we're going yet?"

"Not yet. He just said some old place in the hills. I can ask him again, but he just says he'll pull over if I say 'Are we there yet?' again."

Spike shook his head, then gave her a serious look. "Are you planning on getting any sleep between now and the big day?"

"Probably not."

"That's stupid, Buffy."

She shrugged. "It's my thing. Speaking of which, you shuffling around is keeping Xander up. We need him to get some sleep before he drives. You almost done?"

He surveyed the space he'd been creating. "It'll do." He climbed off the floor as Buffy worked her way back to the front of the bus. He followed her down the aisle, then settled onto Xander's seat, nudging the feet off.

Xander jerked from his amazing-almost-sleep state. "What the hell--" He glowered at his seat mate. "Get the hell away from me."

"I'm just checking up on you, pet." He smiled winningly. "Seeing as so much depends on you and all." He glanced across the way at Willow, who snored faintly. "Wise move, not telling about the chip."

"I am going to tell her, either outright or living long enough after you try to kill me to gasp it out with my last breath."

"'To the last, I grapple with thee,'"Spike quoted with a smile. "'From Hell's heart, I stab at thee. For hate's sake, I spit my last breath of thee.'"

Xander frowned. "Why the hell are you quoting 'Wrath of Khan' at me?"

"Philistine." He made a show of snuggling down in the seat and putting his knee up against the seatback in front of him. "Go to sleep, Xander."

"Not with you right there. Get the hell away from me."

"Why so shy? Wouldn't be the first time I've watched you sleeping."

"Maybe so, but then I didn't worry about if I'd wake up to find fangs in my throat. Get your own seat."

With a put-upon sigh, Spike moved to the seat behind Xander. "Satisfied?"

"No."

"Good."

Spike bend down the backs of two of the bus' bench seats, making uneven but adequate sleeping surfaces.

Bent?

Also - oh, my dear, I do so love you. Your Xander is my Xander. The one that no-one else seems to see. The one who lives in my heart.

Xander frowned. "Why the hell are you quoting 'Wrath of Khan' at me?"

This is fucking perfect.

And now I'm all teary.

And impatient.

Let's not forget the impatient.

Ah, damn, typos that are real words and slip past the spellcheck. feh.

That's why you have us, my dear. So, please, write more faster as the muse provides.

You know, it's just like being paid to write, only with annoying customer interruptions.

The thing with being the Slayer, you were given all these heightened senses and endurance to help you fight the monsters. The fact that these senses were useful in sneaking into the house without your mother noticing or sneaking out of training while your Watcher was still lecturing about how previous Slayers showed ever so much more respect for the process than you was apparently not considered worth mentioning. The ability to go without sleep, though, was also very useful.

Buffy slipped into the seat behind Giles and leaned on the railing. Tiredness nibbled on the edges of her consciousness, but it was more like the possibility that she might want another double-fudge brownie as opposed to the need for a mochacchino before class.

"You should sleep," Giles said as he steered the bus into the passing lane around a heavily laden flatbed semi truck. "The rest of them are out."

From this angle, she could see the interior of the bus from the driver's mirror. Willow and Tara were still curled up next to each other, looking awfully sweet together. Across the aisle, Dawn and her mother snored faintly in harmony. Xander was slumped low in his seat, though he twitched more than a person who was asleep should do. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Spike, in the seat behind Xander, turning to look out the window with a very poorly managed attempt at innocence. She waited till he looked her way, then she frowned at him. With a smirk, Spike settled down in his own seat and closed his eyes.

"I'm not that sleepy," she said, turning around to stare out the windshield. She faintly saw the outline of the driver's seat in the glass. The empty driver's seat.

"Even the Slayer needs sleep."

"I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock four times this morning, I got lots." She frowned. "This morning? Or yesterday morning?"

"We are quite on the wrong side of midnight for it to be anything but yesterday morning. This morning is the event that will happen in a few more hours."

"We'll need to trade drivers soon, then."

"The sky has barely turned color, I'm fine for quite a while yet."

Buffy looked to the east, where the mountains would be if there were more light. "How hard is it going to be to find where we're going?"

Giles sighed. "Not that easy. I hope Xander can read a map."

"We can all help navigate."

"Yes, getting hopelessly lost will make it harder for Glory to find us, I imagine. If we don't know where we ourselves are, no one else should be able to, either."

Buffy smacked him in the arm automatically. "We're not that bad." She scooted over so she could see the side of his face and, yes, he was grinning. "Meanie."

She was silent for a long time, until Giles swung over into the lane for an offramp. "Los Padres National Forest" was on the sign that flashed by.

"Camping," she observed. "Yay."

"City girl."

"And proud of it, Mr. Tweed." She reviewed what little California geography she remembered from boring classes. Family vacations--when they'd occurred--had involved hotels and beaches and shopping, not woods and mountains and insects. She got a blank about anything regarding Los Padres except "trees--mountains--don't bother".

They exited the freeway and got onto a four-lane highway headed east. Sporting goods stores and outfitters gathered among the usual roadside collection of fast food and gas.

"A couple of more hours," Giles said, "and I'll find a place where we can pull over and stretch our legs and whatnot."

"Whatnot. Another word for potty break?"

"If you will."

She turned around to study the interior of the bus again. All the sleepers will still sleeping. From somewhere--possibly while rummaging through baggage--Spike had found a CD player and headphones. He was nodding his head along with some upbeat rhythm, occasionally mouthing the words.

"You're fidgeting," Giles said.

"Not good at just sitting and doing nothing, you know that." She turned again to look out the windshield. Traffic was beginning to appear, people headed off on their commutes, early-morning deliveries. People with a world they felt safe in, a world that maybe only had one day of existence left to it. Her stomach noted as she realized how fragile it all was. All that stood between those innocent people out there was one vampire Slayer and her busload of weary fighters, her friends and family. And allies.

"The Watchers' Council," she said.

Giles jumped a little. "What about them?"

"What do you think they know about Glory that they would have told us about if we hadn't thrown them out?"

He was silent a moment. "Not as much as they wanted us to believe, I would imagine, nor as useful. History, most likely, stray tales from dimensional travelers, possibly some writings from the monks who created Dawn or from the Knights of Byzantium."

"And you don't think that would help?"

"From what I've gathered about the Knights, their writings seem to boil down to 'Glory evil, smash key.' Those monks were no better. 'Run, hide, it's Her.'"

"Then we didn't do the wrong thing by turning the Council away?"

Giles hesitated for quite a while. "I--don't completely trust my recollection of that meeting. The main impression that I have is that if they were willing to put a price tag on information to save the world, then what else do they believe they can make deals on? First your cooperation, then your obedience, then your soul. And then your life. We did not make a mistake."

She nodded. "It's just--I'd hate to think I hadn't done everything I could."

"It isn't in you."

"Huh?"

"I don't believe you are capable of not doing everything in your power to stop a threat."

From the angle of hi

rassenfrassen cut off last three lines

From the angle of his head, he was looking at her in the mirror. But when she looked up to smile back at him, the mirror was empty. He brought his head back down quickly and focused silently on the road.