Chapter
6.04
Wednesday, May 15th, 2002
"Dawn?" Brandon knocked on the outer
door of the toilets. "Dawn, are you all right in there?"
Dawn leant against the other side of the door.
Sweat was trickling down her face as she clasped her purse and
her pants to her, afraid that, if she didn't, she would forget
them again. She didn't know what to do. She felt like she was
burning up. She desperately needed to get out of this place, but
to do that she had to go past Brandon.
"Dawn?" his voice seemed even louder.
"If you don't answer me, I'm going to have to come in there."
"You can't." Her voice was edged with
panic. Everything had gone so wrong and she just knew that if
she didn't feel so ill she could work out how to fix it.
"I won't, as long as you keep talking to
me, so I know you're okay. If you stop talking, then for all I
know, you could be passed out with your head down a toilet or
something."
"Like you'd care!" she accused
him.
"Do we have to do this with a door in the
way?" he asked his voice sounding suddenly tired.
"I'm not that stupid. If I come out you'll
grab me again."
"Okay. Look, I'll back away from the door.
I won't come any closer than six feet. If you just open the door
an inch or two you can see. Okay?"
"I want to go outside." The door opened
a fraction of an inch and Brandon could just make out a single
blue eye making sure he was as good as his word.
"Okay, but I'm going to follow you and make
sure you're okay till someone comes. I'll stay back. I won't touch
you. I just don't want to leave you on your own."
Slowly Dawn edged toward the back door of the
club, carrying her bundle clutched against her chest. Equally
slowly, careful not to make any move that might startle her, Brandon
followed her into the alley beside the club. Dawn's legs were
decidedly shaky and she was more than a little relieved to spot
a stack of palettes, which formed a convenient resting spot. She
reached down with her hands to lower herself onto the makeshift
seat, no longer trusting her depth perception to guide her. Brandon
kept his distance, leaning against the opposite alley wall as
if he, too, were having difficulty supporting his own weight.
"Dawn. You have to phone your sister and
let her know what's happening. She's not at the house. Do you
know where she is?"
"Can't."
"Can't what, Dawn? Can't contact her? Won't
she have her cell with her? Or is she at the cinema or somewhere
where she'd have it turned off?"
"Can't tell her. Snuck out. She thinks I'm
at home."
Brandon allowed himself to slide down the wall
until he sat hunkered at its base. "Dawn, in a few minutes
my dad is going to be here. He's going to have to decide whether
to take you back to our place or whether to take you to the hospital.
You can't go home unless there's going to be someone there to
look after you, and, unless we can get a hold of your sister, she's
not going to know there's anything wrong."
Just at that point, the black four by four pulled
into the alley, screeching to a halt mere feet from the couple,
its high beams making both of them raise a hand to their eyes.
A smallish figure stepped from the car to be rapidly flanked by
two much larger ones who seemed to step from the alley's shadows.
"We'll take care of Dawn, won't we?"
Brandon looked over at the newcomers. The woman who had spoken
didn't look particularly offensive, but he wasn't ready to trust
anyone who walked or drove into this situation. The hint of Eastern
European in her accent didn't exactly set his mind at rest either.
He began to edge his way over toward Dawn, trying to place his
body between her and the others.
"Sorry, thanks for the offer, but as I told
the lady earlier when I take a girl on a date I make sure
she gets home safely."
"I'm afraid you're under a misapprehension
here. It wasn't an offer. It was a statement of fact." The
woman nodded toward Dawn. "Secure her and put her in the
back."
Looking round, Brandon grabbed at a broken off
length of three by one, holding it like a double handed sword and
sort of shuffling forward with one foot always well ahead of the
other.
"Kendo? Very impressive, especially since
you should be just as messed up as your girlfriend."
"She kept me talking. Didn't drink as much."
"Pity." In an effortless and obviously
much practised move, the woman pulled a pistol from an underarm
holster that had been hidden by her jacket. Brandon got a good
view of the silencer before the momentum of the shot carried him
off his already shaky feet.
He struggled to stay conscious despite the drug
and the pain and succeeded just long enough to catch Dawn's gasp
of recognition as her captors dragged her off.
"What about him?" one of the men asked
as they closed up the rear of the car.
"Leave him. In five minutes the smell of
blood will have every vampire in a half-mile radius down here.
Just get her to the containment site and get back here before
alpha team realises you're gone and not a word about this to any
of the others."
"Not even Riley?"
"Especially not Riley. He doesn't deal well
with grey areas. That's why it's my job to make sure he doesn't
see any. As far as he's concerned alpha team is out hunting the
vampire that is holding the slayer and her people under its thrall.
He has a duty to stop it before it uses this foothold to start
an insurrection amongst the sub-T population. I don't see any
need to confuse the issue."
Willow was off the motorcycle even before Wes could
turn the engine off, her front door key ready in her hand.
"Dawn? Dawnie?" The living room light
was on, as was the one in the bathroom, but otherwise the house
was in darkness. She made her way through the living room to the
kitchen, flicking the lights on as she passed. When she saw the
fluorescent pink post-it stuck to the fridge door she heaved a
sigh of relief, even before she got close enough to read it. Somehow
bad news didn't belong on something that garish.
She pulled down the note reading it with a smile.
"Panic over. She went to the Bronze to see Devon's new band.
She probably couldn't hear her phone over the music."
"Yes," Wes drew the word out as if
to show his reservations. "But who did she go with?"
Willow's mouth formed into a silent 'O' as she
realised what the former watcher meant. "I guess we could
try calling her again. We might be lucky." Willow crossed
to the phone and only then noticed the blinking message light.
She pressed the playback button.
"Hi. I guess there's no one home right now.
This is Brandon. Dawn's sick. Actually, I think maybe someone
spiked our drinks 'cause I don't feel so good either, but Dawn's
a lot worse. I'm going to call my dad and get him to pick us up.
I don't think Dawn should be left alone, but she... I think she
thinks I did it or at least she doesn't know I didn't, so the
sooner someone she trusts can get here, the better. By the time
you get this, chances are we'll either be at our place or if she
gets any worse we might be at the hospital, but, if we go there,
I'll try to leave another message. My cell number's..." The
message finished by giving Brandon's cell number, his home number
and his address.
"Oh God, something's happened to them and
it's my fault."
"Willow, we don't know that. It may simply
be a childish prank, but I think Buffy needs to know what's going
on."
"Don't you think we should return the call
first?"
"I think maybe Buffy would want to do that
herself."
Wes pulled out his cell phone. "Can you
have that message ready to play when I give you the signal?"
As the phone rang on unanswered, Buffy could
feel the rage that built within the vampire with each additional
ring. She let it sweep through her, too. It was so much better
than the gnawing fear that was the alternative. If the cell phone
had been switched off that might have meant they were at the hospital,
but when both it and Brandon's home number were unattended the
odds of some sort of foul play being involved increased dramatically.
The vampire pulled back onto the road, paying
no heed to speed limits and little more to intersections or crosswalks.
As he neared the club, the heavy coppery scent guided him to the
alley, but all that remained to tell the tale was a large puddle
of blood and some tyre prints, those and the pitiful bundle made
by Dawn's new trousers wrapped around her purse.
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