| Ring of Fire by TalesofSpike |
| Chapter #42 - Chapter 6.01 |
  Note: Thanks to my betas MadRog and t_geyer for their unending patience, perseverance and support. SECTION 6 - GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN Some boys take a beautiful girl And hide her away from the rest of the world I wanna be the one to walk in the sun Hey now, hey now What's a matta with ya? Girls just wanna have fun now Come on (Cyndi Lauper, Album - 12 deadly Cyns... and then some) 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?" |