Special thanks
to Cherie again, for the proverbial butt kicking, and also to
the real Lori for stepping in to help out with my typos and American
/ English translations while t_geyer was indisposed. I guess when
it comes to culinary matters the British and the Americans are
even more two nations separated by a common language than usual.
Chapter 6.01
Wednesday, May 15th, 2002
Tara watched the car recede into the distance.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the cell phone Buffy had
given her in LA. The display announced that one new message had
been received. She opened it up to find that Buffy hadn't neglected
to get in touch. Unfortunately, neither witch had heard the ring
tone with the phone buried in Tara's bag.
"v----v = ^. Ws -> <- D. B+S DND pls!!!"
"Spike's up. Wes is meeting Dawn, and Buffy says
to please not disturb her and Spike. I guess if we go home there's
a chance we might catch Wes if he sticks around when he drops
Dawn off."
"But we're still in Surveillance Central. Why
don't we ring Wes and get him to meet us back at the library.
That way we don't lose any more research time," Willow suggested.
Tara managed a half-hearted smile, as the pair
turned and headed back in the direction from which they had come.
"I suppose." Her arms and shoulders were aching from carrying
round the oversized books she had been using for research. Somehow,
magical texts never seemed to come in a convenient paperback.
Yet, she didn't dare complain or ask for help, because, if she
did, it seemed likely that Willow's solution would involve magic,
in some shape or form.
Wesley parked the Harley outside the bike shop,
and then walked the quarter mile to the school. Regardless of
the vampire's assurances of trust, life would be far less complicated
for all concerned if they didn't have to explain away double standards.
As he waited by the school gates, his cell phone rang. He checked
the caller i.d. before answering.
"Wes here."
Five minutes later he had arranged to meet the
two witches after he had dropped off Dawn. Neither party knew
how far off that eventuality was going to be and how much longer
the intervening period was going to seem to the unfortunate Englishman.
Wes held the door of the bike shop open and ushered
Dawn inside. Instantly, the teenager seemed transfixed by the
rows upon rows of bikes of varying shapes and sizes and their
array of gleaming chrome.
"D'you think once I'm old enough, Spike
would buy me a bike of my own? It'd be way cheaper than a car."
"Somehow, I doubt it. Come on the jackets
and stuff are at the back of the shop."
"Oh, but look at this one. It's only a couple
of years old, and a car that price would be a real clunker. And
it's purple." She pointed out a trim little 250cc machine.
"Quite, but the impression I got was that
Spike and your sister merely want to ensure that you're as safe
as possible if you're going to be on a motorbike, not to actively
encourage you to pursue an interest in them."
Eventually, Wes had to take the teenager by the
hand and pull her towards the rear of the shop as she seemed to
get distracted by every shiny metallic paint job that they passed.
Maybe, this contributed to the later misunderstanding.
Wes waited patiently in the short queue as Dawn
poked around in the racks of leathers. He noted with amusement
that the girl headed straight for the style of pants that Spike
had anticipated, without even looking at the others. Before he
had too long to ponder he was first in the queue.
He gestured toward the young girl. "Dawn
here needs the full kit. Helmet, leathers, boots, the works."
Wesley could see the young assistant's eyes light
up in a way that said louder than words that he was on commission.
"Okaaay!" The assistant drew the word
out in his enthusiasm as he walked over to where Dawn was now
looking at the leather jackets. "So, what colour's your bike?"
he asked her.
Dawn snorted in his face. "I wish. I'm not
even old enough, yet. It's my boyfriend who has the bike."
The assistant's gaze flicked back and forth between
Wes and Dawn in a distracted kind of way that the teenager immediately
picked up on with a wicked grin. "I-I thought it was your
dad. Sorry, man."
"Em, I-I'm just a friend of the family."
Wes was temporarily flummoxed by the conclusion the young man
had reached. "I mean I'm not her boyfriend."
"Okay. Okay." Dawn interrupted, playing
up to the idea even further, slipping an arm through his and giving
the flustered Brit a peck on the cheek. "He hates being called
my boyfriend. He says it makes him feel nineteen again. He prefers
to be called my lover, but he gets a bit hinkey about it in public.
He thinks people won't understand. I mean look at Jerry Lee Lewis.
He was hounded in the press when they found out about his wife,
but I mean they were happy, so what right does anyone on the outside
have to judge. If we went to some of the southern states we could
be married already, and my family's very supportive. They say
it's good that I have someone they know will take care of me.
Mom said if I was going to lose my virginity, then it was way
better that it happened with an experienced older man than with
some kid my age who wouldn't know what he was doing."
"She's just teasing you," Wes protested
as Dawn slipped a proprietary arm around his waist, jumping in
shock as her hand slipped into the back pockets of his leather
pants squeezing his butt.
If she'd been there with Spike, then both of
them would no doubt have hammed it up... either that or Spike would
have punched the guy out for even thinking it. Wes's discomfort
was almost better though, as it looked more like denial.
"It's okay, darling," Dawn continued.
"He doesn't mind. Do you?" She turned to address the
assistant, who by this point wasn't sure who to believe, but was
wary in case a wrong reply could mean saying goodbye to his commission.
It took a full hour under the supervision of
the still bemused sales assistant and many changes complete with,
"Honey, do these pants make my butt look big?" before
Dawn finally selected the trousers that Spike had known she would
in the first place. The jacket she picked was basically black,
but did have some purple detailing on the shoulders. She did bitch
not a little that none of the jackets were cut to accommodate
a lady's bust, but by this point Wes was beginning to lose patience
and pointed out under his breath that it was just as well she
barely had one then.
Choosing a helmet took another half hour, with
Wes trying patiently to explain that the best helmet for her wasn't
determined by the one that was the prettiest colour, or even the
cost, but by which style was the best fit for the shape of her
skull. Needless to say, after trying on all the different styles,
she insisted unequivocally that the style that happened to come
in metallic purple was definitely the one that fitted best.
The gloves were easy. It was pretty much a case
of finding the smallest possible pair. After that, she spent another
half-hour trying on boots, only to announce at the end of it all
that she'd rather have a pair of New Rocks from the Sunnydale
mall, and she was hungry and could they go now.
Wes got them to ring up their purchases and then
waited while Dawn changed into them, her lightweight school clothes
fitting easily into her book bag. When Dawn discovered that the
excursion was to include dinner as well, she insisted they go
to her favourite Italian restaurant, saying that Buffy's fast-food
catering had ruined any appeal burgers had once had for her.
Wes conceded the point but got a measure of his
own back, announcing to the maitre d' that he and his ward would
like a table near the window.
"Ward?" Dawn blustered as they were
seated. "You make me sound like something out of Jane Eyre."
"And you made me look like a borderline
paedophile for several hours. Somehow, I think I've still got
some payback to come. And it's technically true. You are in my
charge until I get you back home."
"Hey, it's hardly like I was serious. And
you have to admit it was funny. It was funny. He didn't
know where to look, or who to believe. And I wouldn't have done
it if he hadn't already jumped to that conclusion, anyway."
"That still doesn't explain why you kept
it up for the entire duration of our sojourn in the shop."
"Buffy would say it was Spike's influence.
Or wait... actually, she used to say I was evil back before Spike
ever showed up on the scene, or back before I showed up on the
scene, but then I think with sisters that's a sign of affection,
don't you?"
Wes gave a rueful smile. "Any sort of misbehaviour
was rather actively discouraged in our household. I doubt I ever
did anything when I was growing up that would remotely qualify
for such a description."
"Sheesh! What did they do, send you to Watcher
boarding school from the age of five or something? Don't they
let you have a leetle teeny bit of fun before they starch
your upper lips? Giles got to have a delinquent phase. Couldn't
you have taken a few years out to have fun?"
"As a matter of fact, I was seven, and I
have, if only recently."
"You call working with Brood Boy fun?"
"I call being my own man, well maybe not
fun, exactly, but there's a lot of truth in the adage about being
true to oneself."
"Cool! Well, for future reference, evil...
ish. If you're joining the "family", that makes you
fair game. Consider this fair warning.
Can we order now? When I talked to Brandon before,
I told him I'd call him before seven, and we still have to get
the boots before we go home."
"I rather think fair warning would have
been before you pulled this afternoon's little stunt."
"Picky, picky," Dawn admonished as she
waved a breadstick in the air to attract the waiter's attention.
"I'll have the garlic mushrooms for starters
and the penne arabiata," she told the young man when he arrived.
She gave a sweet smile in Wes's direction. "What do you want,
Daddy?" |
