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