Chapter
6.03
Wednesday, May 15th, 2002
"Okay!" Dawn began before taking a
sip of her drink. "I've been thinking, and I've come to the
conclusion that, so far, you're just too good to be true. So,
if you don't want me to head for the hills, I think it's time
you spilled all your deepest darkest secrets."
"You mean it isn't enough that my dad knows
your grade point average and gets to watch us eat lunch every
day?"
"Nope, that's just a minor inconvenience.
and besides it's not like I couldn't check out your test scores
if I wanted to." The teenager thought of how easily Willow
hacked the school's computers on demand.
"Really?"
"Well," Dawn covered for her slip.
"If I asked, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"
"B plus average."
"See, and again with the perfect. Intelligent
without being geeky."
"Okay, then. How about the fact that your
sister and her boyfriend, though hopefully not you, are going
to freak when they find out I'm eighteen."
Dawn snorted a mouthful of coke and started coughing
whilst the youth hovered next to her unsure whether he should
slap her back or not. Gradually the coughing sort of died down.
"What the frilly heck are you doing in tenth
grade, if you're eighteen?" the girl finally spluttered.
"Misspent youth. Ma and Dad both travelled
a lot when I was younger, so I was always getting pulled out of
one school and put into another and, some of them, I didn't even
know what language they were speaking never mind what they were
trying to teach me. So, by the time they got divorced and Dad
moved us back to the US, I kinda slipped a couple of grades."
"So you lived abroad?"
"Some of the time." He gave a sigh.
"It's going to have to be the full story, isn't it?"
"Mm-hmm." Dawn nodded. "Can't
stop just when it's getting interesting."
"Okay, when I was real young, dad was in
the army. Don't worry. He's not some gung ho spit-and-polish type.
Just wanted to go to college and his folks didn't have the cash
to spare, so he basically did his time and got out. Except, then,
he went one better and became a war correspondent. Ma would try
to get work, sort of near but not too near, if you know what I
mean, but her contracts wouldn't necessarily run for the same
length of time as Dad's and there aren't exactly a lot of films
or TV getting made anywhere near Somalia, least not Ma's sort
of stuff."
"What exactly does your mom do?"
"She's a wrangler." He raised an eyebrow
in Dawn's direction, silently asking if she knew what that meant.
"She works with horses, right?"
"Yep, so Westerns and historical dramas,
pretty much it."
"Sounds interesting."
"Sometimes, but believe me being stuck in
the Ukraine in the middle of winter because it's the only place
the actors, or should I say the army, are cheap enough to film
massed ranks on a TV budget, not really my idea of fun. Even if
you do pick up the odd autograph."
"So where is she now?"
"Prague, I think. They're starting to do
a fair bit of stuff over there."
"So you don't see her much?"
"Depends. Most summers she tries to work
in a longish vacation and we go stay with her folks in Ireland
for a few weeks, or I go stay with her for a month or two where
she's working, but then I don't see her so much."
"So, just when I get used to you being around,
you're going to up and leave me?"
"You're getting used to me being around?"
"Maybe."
"Think you'll miss me?" His pale green
eyes sparkled with a teasing light.
"Again I say maybe." An answering sparkle
blossomed in her own.
"Think maybe your sis would let you out
of her sight for a week or two, if I promised to take real good
care of you?"
"And pigs would fly." A frown flickered
across the adolescent's face and she dabbed at a forehead suddenly
damp with perspiration. She reached for her drink, taking a couple
of large cooling gulps before she pushed herself up out of her
seat. "I'll be back in a minute."
The toilets still weren't that busy, but Kirsty
and her clique were hogging the space in front of the mirrors,
so Dawn ducked into the first available cubicle pretending not
to notice them and hoping they wouldn't notice her. As soon as
the door was safely bolted behind her she slumped on the toilet
seat and pulled a wad of tissue from the roll beside her to dab
the moisture from her face.
Maybe this was why Buffy had never really worn
the pvc dress. Standing, she pulled her leather pants down to
mid-thigh before sitting back down, and somewhat laboriously managing
to get them off without putting an unshod foot on the cubicle's
floor. By the time this minor task had been achieved, she was
again sweating profusely. This was when she began to suspect that
all was not right with the world. "Too good to be true..."
She was startled to realise she'd whispered the words out loud.
Thankfully, Kirsty and her friends seemed to have remained oblivious
and, shortly thereafter, she heard them leave en masse.
When she heard the door slam behind them, she
ventured out, peering at the damp face the mirror reflected back
at her. Her make up seemed suddenly garish against a pallor to
which even Spike could only aspire. Fresh air. She needed out
of this claustrophobic club, with it close atmosphere and seething
crowds of people. She lurched the few steps from the ladies to
the club's back door, only to feel a firm hand grip her upper
arm as she almost stumbled. When she recognised Brandon's voice
she lashed out with her free hand trying to push him away but
her limbs felt like spaghetti.
"Yudithiz" she accused.
"Dawn. I haven't done anything. Whatever's
wrong, I promise you it wasn't me. You can't go like this."
"Liar."
"Look, I know you haven't known me long
enough to know you can trust me, but, if you come back in, work
out where you left your pants and your purse, I'll call your sister
and wait with you till she picks you up. There's lots of other
people around. Nothing's going to happen to you, but you can't
wander round outside on your own like that."
"Pants?" Dawn looked down at her empty
hands and felt at the dress as if she suddenly expected it to
have sprouted pockets. She turned and stumbled back toward the
ladies toilets. Brandon pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
The calls only took about a minute.
A black four by four waited in a nearby alley.
The figure in the driver's seat monitored communications between
the two teams that were at work in Sunnydale tonight. A cell phone's
ring tone broke across the radio chatter.
"Agent Finn."
"What is the status of your operation, Agent
Finn?"
"Phase one is complete. We should be able
to make the pick up very shortly. I have men watching all the
exits."
"And alpha team?"
"We have marksmen in position at the various
locations, waiting for their opportunity. The vampire won't be
causing any more trouble after tonight."
Wesley looked at his watch. It was over five
and a half hours since he had parted company with Buffy and Spike.
He doubted they would still be talking things through. One way
or another, it seemed likely that matters would be settled. Of
course, if they had moved on from talking, then he really wasn't
going to be popular, but then after his shopping trip with Dawn
they owed him.
He pressed the speed dial button that would connect
him to Buffy's mobile.
At first, Buffy had no idea why Spike had suddenly
slowed down and pulled over, but when he cut the engine on the
bike she became dimly aware of the ring tone coming from her purse.
She passed the bag to Spike, letting him search for the offending
object while she removed her helmet.
"Buffy?"
Spike recognised the ex-watcher's voice immediately.
"Just a minute. She's gettin' her helmet off. What's up?"
"It could be nothing, but Dawn's not answering
either her home phone or her cell phone, and Willow's just found
out that her boyfriend's father is ex-army. We also have reason
to believe that Riley's group may have been provoked into taking
action. As soon as I hang up, Willow and I are heading over to
the house to check it out. We'll ring as soon as we have more
news."
Spike dropped the phone into his duster pocket
where it would be easier to reach. "Best get that back on,
pet, and hold on tight, 'cause we're done dawdlin'."
"Dawn?"
"Who else?" the vamp asked in a voice
that didn't bode well for someone.
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