Yellow Roses, part 5: Musings of a Research Boy, Coo-Coo Catchew

Short and sweet, this time.

As always, comments are appreciated. I'll laugh at flames and send them to all my friends as joke-mail. Okay, here's the disclaimer:

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed by the characters in this fanfic do not necessarily represent the opinions of the author or the site owner. I didn't write the Titanic. Nor did I sink it. I have no stock on the movie, so if you're one of those people who went to see it 50,000,000,000 times, I really don't care. If you wanna know who wrote that Titanic song, go to Harmony House or somewhere, because I don't remember her name (Celine Dion? Something like that?). Otherwise... keep reading and write me if anything is confusing; I really don't know if I'm forgetting to explain anything that I already should've.

Website: The Scribs: Home of the Insane Fanfiction Writer Cassima

"Life is a hallucination, brought on by lack of drugs and alcohol." -- Kate

His stomach lurched again, and Xander hastily spread his bag to deposit everything he'd ever eaten into one tiny sack. I hate, despise, and loathe any type of flying, he thought to himself again, clutching his bag. It was pathetic, really; only a research boy for the Slayer could get sick from looking at the airport. Only a research boy could be compelled to lose his rather large breakfast because his airline barf bag taunted him with the words "This side up". Ah, the misery, the sheer anguish of it all. How could life be so cruel? While pondering this question, Xander promptly threw up again.

Willow, the unfortunate loser of a coin toss, was seated on the very edge of her chair, the farthest from Xander that she could get. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay? 'Cause--uh--you're kinda making me sick. Not that that's a bad thing," she hurriedly told him, "but... uh... it kinda is. Oh, ick!" she squealed as Xander, in response to her speech, threw up.

"Yeah, Will," he told her sarcastically, "I'm doing this on purpose, just to tick you off." He sat back in his chair, looking uncharacteristically pale and green. The brown lettering on the barf bag in front of him danced, mocking him and all he cared about. His response: Well, I was wondering what I had for dinner last night. Oh, yeah: Green stuff. Never mind. Oh, no... not food... not that green stuff Cordy made... His stomach flip-flopped and he promptly deposited yet another quart of his stomach contents. "I'll never eat again," he swore to his poor, suffering stomach.

Willow shook her head, not saying anything. She had offered him some Dramamine, but he had thrown it back up. Twice. It wasn't pretty; not at all. She turned to Buffy, who was curled up in the other seat next to her. "On the way back, dibs on the window seat."

The Slayer gave a small snore before snuggling into the comfy upholstery.

Willow sighed, sitting back in her chair in remorse. "Or, I'll just sit here..."

Xander attempted to think of something comforting, but was interrupted by the sudden churning of his stomach. "Oh no, not ag--" he groaned as he heaved his stomach contents. When he was done, he sat back, hands trembling from exhaustion.

"Wanna learn a trick?" a voice asked at his ear.

Xander jumped. "Lun@--what is it?"

Lun@'s eyes regarded him serenely. "Give me your wrist." Obligingly, he handed over his hand palm down. Flipping his palm over, she suddenly jabbed his wrist sharply with two of her bony fingers.

"Hey!" he yelped, snatching his hand back and nursing the red mark. "What was that for?"

"That," she informed him, very matter-of-fact, "was a pressure point. Just jab right here," she pointed, "if you feel sick again. It should take away the nausea." She sat back down in the seat behind him with a sigh.

Willow looked back at the brown haired girl. "Wanna switch seats?"

Lun@ snorted. "Not in this lifetime. Not a snowball's chance in Hell. Not if the sun rises in the west and the moon melts in Pluto's heat into a mass of slimy green cheese-goo."

"I, personally," Xander contributed blithely, if absentmindedly, "believe that Hell has already frozen over." Staring at his wrist, he pursed his lips in confusion. Extending his index and middle finger cautiously, he jabbed at his throbbing wrist. Now that you mention it, I do feel better, he admitted to himself.

He gave Giles a glance, noting the intense conversation the Watcher was having with Ms. Calendar. This whole trip is a stroke a genius, he thought. Finding the vampires and figuring out a way for the school to sponsor our trip to fight them was... not my job. For that you need... brains.

Oo, the plane was moving. With panicked fingers, he hurriedly jabbed at his wrist. Finding the point after a few random jabs, he sighed with relief. I guess I won't need this anymore. Rolling the top of the bag down to seal it, Xander shoved it under the seat in front of him. There. Out of the way.

Having nothing else to do, Xander indulged in a pastime that he rarely touched on: thinking. I wonder what that redhead's name is... Of course, not all his thoughts were profound. Because Cordelia wasn't here to keep him firmly in line, his thoughts playfully strayed to the petite woman sitting behind Willow, next to Lun@. Unfortunately, she seemed to be off limits, being with the tall man sleeping quietly by the window. Not that it mattered. She's too old for me. I won't even think--

The plane shuddered to a halt and Xander felt the all-too-familiar twist in his gut. "Oh, God." Covering his mouth with a hand, he searched desperately for his vomit sack. Not finding it, he snatched Willow's from its place in her seat pocket and threw up into it.

"Xander!" Willow protested, looking uneasily at him.

Disenchanted about the "Friendly Air", Xander wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and offered the used bag back to his friend.

Pulling back as if it were a fanged cobra he offered her, she gave him an intense look of disgust. "That's just... gross."

"Your generosity astounds me," Xander told her dryly, sticking it between his legs and cupping his poor, aching belly with his hands. "My stomach thanks you... whatever's left of it."

He sat back and closed his eyes with exhaustion. Being sick took a lot out of you. Slowly he drifted off, his mind wavering between conscious and not quite unconscious, floating on the waves of--

His stomach lurched. "God!" he cried, pounding on his wrist. "Just... kill me now..." The queasy sensation in his stomach eased. Gee, he thought to himself, not everyone hits themselves to make themselves feel better. It must be something special that only happens to those who don't study. Ah, every freedom has it's prices. I will suffer for my art.

Feeling better and frankly... well... bored, he leaned back (again) in his comfy airplane seat and thought. Twice in one day, he told himself wryly. Willow's starting to rub off on you. Why did sleeping people always get the window seats? Sure, like they were in a position to enjoy it. Snatches of a conversation not including him wafted their way into his ears, and he strained to listen.

"... is back."

"Oh, that's terrible! ...Skull..."

"Mold? No."

"*mumble mumble*"

"... deal with..."

Well, Xander was surprised. It sounded as if chatty Lun@ was hushing and letting someone else do most of the talking, for once. Lun@ was shy, but she had an odd habit of pretending she wasn't. This time, though, the conversation didn't seem strained on her part. How can someone have a heart-to-heart with a total stranger?!? Xander shifted to hear more.

"*mumble mumble*"

"*giggles* You have to sooner or later."

"Why?"

"It'll tear you up inside... ...minute."

There was a pause.

"XANDER!" came a voice close in his ear. "STOP EAVESDROPPING!!!"

Xander jumped in surprise. The red haired woman was shooting him evil cold glares from the seat behind as he whirled around to face Lun@. "Don't do that!"

Buffy's Lunar Guardian surveyed him cruelly. "I would appreciate it," she hissed at him, "if you would direct your attentions elsewhere! Perhaps your Walkman?"

Yeah, she was pissed. She only spoke like that when she was fighting the urge to tell him off in another language, usually Italian. She would, however, call him names. He didn't like it when she did, though; he always had to look the ridiculous terms up. That reminds me... look up "fornicator". "Okay..." he told her meekly. "I'll get it from Will right away."

5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

"Kaba no baka," she muttered, going back to her seat.

He sighed. Yet another one for the girl next to him to explain. Speaking of Willow...

"Hey, Will," he whispered, holding out his hand, "can I have my Walkman back now?"

Not looking up from her book, she nodded. "Huh? Sure, go ahead. It's in my backpack." She motioned her head towards her feet. "I let Giles borrow it in the car..." At a look from him, she answered, "Well, he was being annoying, and God knows what music he listens to in his spare time..."

Xander held up his hand. "Please. I get the picture. Be still my beating stomach. It's time for some music written by some dead guy about a bazillion years ago. Gre-at." He took the tape out and looked at the label. "Beethoven's 9th," he read slowly. "What a crock." Carelessly, he disposed of the tape into his barf bag.

"Xander!" Willow exclaimed, glaring at him. "That was Giles'!"

"So if he misses it, I'll buy him a new one. What's the big deal?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "Xander, you don't have any money. Besides, that's not the point."

"Whatever."

"Just be careful," she told him. "Some of the those tapes in there are Giles'."

He reached into her bag and fished out another tape. This one was unlabeled. Shrugging, he popped it in and pressed "play". A clear, ringing, disgustingly over-celebrated voice cooed nauseatingly into his ears.

"Every time it happens, Go-o on..."

"AHHHH!" Xander screamed, wrenching the headphones off his ears and throwing them across the aisle, hitting Giles' in the head. "Nooo!"

"What is it?" Buffy demanded, waking up. "Xander, what's wrong?!?"

"He," Xander pointed an accusing finger, "Left his bootlegged Titanic tape in my collection!"

Ms. Calendar put her hands on her hips and glared at her boyfriend. "Titanic? Nobody with taste likes Titanic!"

The man in question squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. "Actually," he ventured, unable to meet the angry eyes staring at him, "I rather liked it. I thought it was... ah... rather... uh... stimulating."

"You mean you liked oggling that girl's chest!" Jenny told him icily, severing his protests with a patented Look(tm).

"No!" he protested.

"Ugh. 8,000 dead people." Buffy's lips curled in disgust. "No, thanks."

"I, uh, thought you liked dead guys." Willow turned to her.

"No, only... *sigh* one."

Xander was trying not to let his thoughts be deterred. "Anyway, about the tape. Don't do it again. Ever. That's just wrong. Vile and wrong."

"Ah..." Giles stammered. "Ah... okay." Tucking his tape into his briefcase, he guiltily settled back down to sweet talk Jenny into being 'un-miffed'.

Xander popped a demo tape of Oz's band into his walkman, and, with only a single last shudder, he pressed the 'play' button and settled down for the nice, long, trip. "Nice" being the inoperative word.

No sarcasm intended.

Xander felt his mind drifting to past events of past weeks, floating in free-fall through endless nonsense and such. The trip had been such a bright idea. Even though he rued the day the vampires had been discovered to have moved, he had to, however grudgingly, admit that it was pure genius. Yes, he remembered well what had happened...

"That's it! That's where they have to be!"

"But..." stammered Giles, flustered, "but... that's not... here..."

"That's right, Giles. It's not," Buffy told him, with a hint of wryness.

"No, but--"

"Lun@ is right," Angel interrupted, appearing, as usual, to have materialized out of thin air. "They've left town."

"But..." Willow murmured, confused, "We've been slaying... except for the past couple weeks where the slay-age... hasn't been."

"Clones, Will. They were clones." A hand pushed long, brown hair impatiently away from the bright green eyes it had been hiding. "See, the vamps, they got this chalice... they can use the chalice to make this gooey stuff, and then this stuff can... clone... other stuff."

"Very descriptive," Giles told Lun@. "That helps tremendously."

Lun@ answered him with a gesture that none of them could quite interpret.

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain why they haven't been out for the last couple weeks," Buffy exclaimed, frustrated.

"Rain." Angel looked sure of himself.

"Rain?" chorused many voices.

"It's been rainy," Lun@ summed up.

Giles, on the receiving end of lots of blank looks, clarified. "Clones melt in water."

To his credit, Xander was taking this all in stride. "Oh. This is new. Add 'dissolves in water' to my list of wierdom."

"You can do it the hard way, like you would slay a vampire--you know, stake or head-slicing--or you can just toss a bucket of regular water over their heads. Pretty simple." Lun@ shut her book with a snap, covering herself with dust. "I've gotta stop doing that." She looked at Giles. "Or maybe someone should start dusting."

Giles looked flustered for a moment. Ms. Calendar had the heart to change the subject, though. "You were saying? About finding them?"

"Oh, yeah." Lun@ and Angel quickly laid out their reasoning and final destination.

"But..." Buffy ventured, half afraid to ask, "how are we gonna get there?"

"Buffy's right," Willow agreed. "It's a bit too far to walk."

"We'll fly, of course," Jenny said, as if it were as obvious as it was.

"Of course."

Lun@ glanced around nervously. "Which brings up another interesting point."

"And that would be..." Buffy eyed her warily.

"I refuse to go in a crate. I want a seat."

"Lu-n@," she groaned, "it was just a movie!"

"I don't want to be drugged up and put in a little tiny box for 17 hours or so. No, thank you."

"You'll be fine--"

"Do you know how big a bladder is?" the girl asked. Holding up a fist, she shook it in Buffy's face. "This big. This big! And that's human-sized, not tiny dog-sized! Have you ever had to hold it for 17 hours? Plus the time it'll take to get through customs..."

"What movie?" Willow inquired, trying to follow this conversation.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Homeward Bound II."

"Oh. I see." She didn't, but it was okay.

"Okay," Ms. Calendar interrupted, "let's say that's where they are. How are we going to get funding for the plane? We just can't sneak on, like Kendra did to get here."

Everyone thought for a moment. "I've got it!" Xander cried. Everyone looked at him. "Hey, I'm allowed to think. I just... choose not to, usually."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Okay, then... what's your idea?"

"Well," Xander drawled, "What if--"

"I hate this game," Lun@ muttered under her breath.

"--We had the school pay our way?" Xander continued, ignoring her.

"Oh, that'll happen," Cordelia remarked sarcastically.

"No, see, we'll just be real sneaky-like about it. Let's say... the school sponsors a contest in which the prize is an all expenses paid trip to anywhere? Couldn't that work? Especially if two teachers were to supervise the outing?"

Suddenly the room was very quiet.

Just as suddenly, the room was full of noise. Laughter, to be exact.

"Oh yeah, they'll buy that," Angel chuckled, shaking his head in wonder at Xander's supreme stupidity.

"Can you imagine Snyder trying to wrap his mind around this?" Giles hawed, holding his sides.

"I can just see him now." Ms. Calendar began her impression of the school's beloved principal. "'You want the school to dish out money so that some kids can indulge in frivolous activity?!?' Hahahahahahahahaha!!!"

Willow began to giggle. Seeing Xander's annoyed expression, she just shrugged.

"You have to admit," Buffy bit back a grin, "it's kinda... out there."

"Geez, Xander," Cordelia snarked, "Now you're really being a moron!"

Only Oz was silent, pondering. "Maybe you just have to appeal to Snyder's dark side," Oz suggested offhandedly, tring to work out the details.

"So it's a plan," Lun@ commented, snatching a clean sheet of paper and a pencil from the desk. "Let's get planning." She began to make a list.

The laughter died out. "Diab, you can't be serious!" Angel remarked, accidentally slipping back onto her old name.

She looked at him with feigned innocence. "Does anyone else have a better idea?" There was an exchange of guilty glances. "No, I didn't think so. So, what kind of contest? It has to be one that we can win, though not too obviously, or Baldy won't go for it." Lun@ preferred to refer to the principal affectionately as "Oh Balding One", or simply "Baldy".

"Spelling?"

"Computers?"

"Fictional writing?"

"Phone sex?"

Many ideas were thrown out into the air, but Lun@ brushed them all off. "Come on!" she exclaimed. "Get original! All these have been done before!" They finally decided on a designing a computer program one, to Lun@'s intent dismay. "It's still not very creative," she grumped, unsatisfied.

(((With much pushing, the idea was finally passed by Snyder, the school board, and a funding company. Willow and Oz worked diligently on their projects. Time passed, the school year ended (and there was much celebration) and the winner was finally announced. Since there would be no story if neither Oz nor Willow won, the author was forced to make an executive decision and let Willow win the contest. "How surprising," she commented glumly, already bored with this stupid-but-necessary paragraph. "Gosh, I didn't expect this to happen!!!")))

Xander was started out of his musings by a sudden jolt of the plane. Jabbing at his wrist, he felt the plane move in a generally upward direction. "Tell me when we've leveled off," he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

Giles gave him a funny glance. "We haven't even taken off yet. Are you feeling all right? You--ah--you look a bit... er... green."

Xander groaned, covering his face with his arm.

It promised to be a long flight.