| No Glass Slipper by Demonica Mills |
| Chapter #8 - Chapter 8 |
| A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. You rock! I did get quite a lot of feedback regarding Mrs. Rothchild, especially about her and the Dawn being taken scene being unrealistic. It is an unrealistic scene and it was written intentionally. Even though this story is written to be a realistic approach to season 6, I didn’t forget that Sunnydale is still a Hellmouth. ; ) Chapter 8 Willow Something weird is going on. Lately Tara’s been spending a lot of time somewhere else and she always seems to be low on cash, which is odd because I know that Tara lives off her overage checks and she budgets very carefully. I keep trying to get her to tell me what’s going on but she just smiles and changes the subject. I briefly wonder if she’s cheating on me. I can hear her in the kitchen, whispering on the phone. A secret conversation…with whom though… She hangs up the phone the moment that I walk into the kitchen and I smile brightly, trying to act as though she hasn’t just done some type of suspicious behavior…even though she totally has. Tara stares at me and I notice how white her face is. “Tara, baby,” I say. “What’s wrong? Who was that on the phone?” “It-it was Buffy,” she whispers and suddenly everything makes sense. Tara must have been hanging out with Buffy all those times she went out. I’m not so jealous anymore. “Oh, okay. If it’s an Apocalypse, I don’t want to know.” Tara wrinkles her forehead and stares at me. “She’s your best friend. Don’t you care?” “You’re my best friend,” I tell her. Tara shakes her head. “What’s happening to you? When did you become like this?” “What are you talking about?” Now I’m confused. “Buffy has been your best friend for six years and she really needs your help and you’ve abandoned her!” I snort. “Buffy always needs my help.” “I-I have to go. I have to call Giles,” she mutters. “Of course, you do,” I say. “What’s the big problem this time? Spike lose his chip? Angel lose his soul? The Hellmouth is going to open? What?” She turns away from me and mumbles so soft that I almost miss it. “The DCFS took Dawn away.” Oh. XXX Spike I’m in shock when there is a knock on my door in the middle of the afternoon. I’m in even more shock when I find out the Red’s bird is the one knocking. My shock turns to panic as I remember that she’s been helping the Slayer keep an eye on Niblet during the day. “Wot’s wrong?” I ask before she’s all the way through the door. “B-buffy lost Dawn,” she says. “Lost? Whaddya mean lost? Like the bit went to the store and got taken by a nasty? Where is she? Let me get my shoes on and ‘ll help look,” I barely pause between sentences. “N-No, wait,” Tara says as I start to head to the lower level of my crypt. “Not lost like missing. Lost like the government took her away.” Huh? “You mean like the Initiative?” “Um, no. The Department of Child and Family Services.” “Wot’s that?” “It…they help find foster care for children who have been abused or don’t have a proper guardian or whose families can’t care for them.” “Wot are you talkin’ about? She lives with the Slayer! She’s the most protected child there is! Why would they take her away?” This makes no sense. Tara twists her hands together. “Um, I g-guess they didn’t like how much Buffy worked and that Dawn was home alone too much…and, um, not getting proper nutrition.” ”But Buffy didn’t leave her alone. Bit was with you or me almost all the time.” Tara smiles weakly. “Somehow I don’t think the government would be too keen on a fifteen year old girl spending time with a lesbian witch and a vampire.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Where’s Buffy? How is she?” Tara looked at the ground. “I’m not sure. She called and asked if I could call Giles and find her a lawyer-which I did and he’s already booked a flight back, but now I-I can’t find her.” I look at my watch. There’s still a few more hours of daylight. “Okay, you look top ground and I’ll take the sewers.” “I was, um, going to do a location spell,” She says. Right. Good to know a witch. XXX Giles I’m pondering what to do about the Sunnydale situation when I leave for afternoon tea with my sister. I must admit that things have been quite…lovely. Matilda and I spent many hours discussing our past differences, starting with my rebellion and Ripper phase to her immense dislike of Buffy and my apparent failure to share in her grief instead of being excited to have my own Slayer. I told her that it was hard to “share grief” with a person who refuses to pick up a phone. We talked about Mother and Father and laughed over how much we both loathe Travers. In addition to my visits with Matilda, I have also been able to visit Olivia on a daily basis. I must admit that it is rather nice to be able to spend time with adults my own age, which is a strange thought to have when two of the “children” are both much older than I am. “Good afternoon, Mr. Giles,” the butler says as he opens the door. “Mrs. Jamison-Smith is waiting in the drawing room.” I follow him into said room and find Matilda sitting patiently with a full tea set in front of her. Oh good, she had cucumber sandwiches made. “Good afternoon, Rupert,” she says as I lean over to kiss her cheek. I sit down in the chair across from her as she turns her head to cough into her handkerchief. She scrunches the cloth in her hand politely, but I can see the flash of red she is trying to hide. “Has the doctor been by today?” I ask. She waves her hand in front of her face and makes a pfiffle sound. “Don’t be ridiculous, Rupert. I’m dying. Don’t need a doctor to tell me that. Now, I know you don’t have that look on your face for me, so pray tell me what is going on? Is your little Slayer in trouble again?” I purse my lips together and refrain from making any comment. “Do not speak of her in that tone,” I say calmly. “We all know the risks when we choose to become Watchers.” She sighs loudly and for a moment, I feel bad. Just a moment though. “I’m needed in Sunnydale,” I say. “Of course you are,” she responds. I’m angry now and I pull my glasses off my face and begin polishing them furiously. “Buffy did not kill Merrick,” I say lowly. “He was killed in the line of duty.” “And yet she survived and he did not.” I put my glasses back on. “We put so much on our Slayers.” “Should we not? They are the Chosen Ones,” Matilda replies. “Buffy has fought and won five Apocalypses. She has been killed…She has witnessed the divorce of her parents and the death of her mother…She has been trying to raise a fifteen year old mystical Key that thinks its her sister…She has passed every test the Council has thrown at her…and now she needs my help more than ever…and I will not abandon her.” I stand up and start to walk out of the room, but pause at the door. “Good-bye Matilda. I will try to come back before…” I don’t finish the sentence. XXX |