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
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, before 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 siblings 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?"
Chapter 6.02
"So, you’ll lock up when I’ve gone? And you’re going to be okay here on your own?" Wes questioned the teenager as he stood on the porch, having brought her home.
"I’ll be fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been in the house on my own, you know, and there’s only two vamps who have an invite, and I don’t think one of them would be in a hurry to show his face round me."
"Yes, well, all the same, keep your phone to hand and if there’s any trouble just call and someone will be here in less than ten minutes. Okay?"
"Yes, daddy. You’re nearly as bad as Spike when Buffy was gone."
"I guess I’ll have to try harder, then."
"No, thanks. One over-protective "big brother" is quite enough. Actually, one over-protective big sister is enough on her own."
"You’re the one that talked about me joining the "family"."
"Shoo. Go. I’ve got calls to make and you’ve got people to meet."
"Hey, so are we on for tonight?" Brandon asked.
"I don’t see why not," Dawn replied, somehow managing not to sound totally disingenuous. "They said it was okay for me to go on your bike once I had all the gear, and I have all the gear. And you’ll give me a lift there and back, won’t you? So, as long as I’m back for curfew, no problemo."
"Sure, I’ll give you a lift there and back. What kind of jerk would I be if I didn’t?"
"The kind of jerk I wouldn’t want to go with in the first place. Or maybe the kind of jerk I’d have an argument with half way through the night."
"Believe me. We’re not going to argue, bicker maybe but I make it a point never to upset a pretty girl if I can help it, and even if we did, it would still be my place to see you got home safely."
"Cool. Give me three quarters of an hour to change and get freshened up. Okay?"
Brandon checked his watch. "I’ll be on that front porch just after half past seven."
"See you then," Dawn confirmed, waiting for him to say goodbye before replacing the handset. She dashed up the stairs as soon as the phone was back in its cradle. At least, if she had been accustomed to the extra weight of her new thick-soled boots it would have been a dash, as it was, it seemed more like a fast jog. These were going to take some getting used to, but on the plus side, no teetering.
Her first stop was her wardrobe. Hidden away at the back, for just such an occasion as this, was an old dress of Buffy’s. Her sister most likely thought it had been thrown away along with all the other clothes that had been with it in a garbage bag in the basement. Little did she know that Dawn had hidden it away well before the basement was ever flooded.
She debated for a few seconds before slipping off the new leather trousers and adding a pair of black lacy tights. Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she pulled on the heavy boots that reached most of the way up her calves once more. She needed make-up, but the black pvc mini-dress, the fishnet-style tights and the boots were definitely a look. Five minutes later, her new leather pants and boots were back on over the top of the dress, which was short enough that this didn’t present a problem. That left the rest of the time to work on her make up and her hair and pick some jewellery.
Dawn made a dash for the bathroom when she heard the sound of an approaching motorbike, checking her hair and make-up in the mirror one last time before she descended the stairs with a seemingly casual nonchalance.
Brandon was just removing his helmet as she stepped into the halo of the front porch light. As he raised his head back up he let out a low wolf whistle.
"Do I get a twirl?" he asked.
"If you want," Dawn responded before obliging. Meanwhile, Brandon set his helmet down on top of the bike’s seat and moved to close the distance between them.
Taking first one hand and then the other, he gently pushed back the cuffs of her jacket.
"What’re you doing?" Dawn asked with a puzzled expression.
"Just checking for the Witchblade, seeing as how I seem to be dating a young Sarah Pezzini," he answered with a teasing glint in his cat-green eyes.
"Very funny." Then, her puzzled expression returned. "Or is that meant to be a compliment?"
"Believe me. It’s a compliment." He closed the last foot between them and pressed his lips to hers, deepening the kiss when she opened her mouth to him. His hands reached up to frame her face and long seconds passed before either pulled away for breath. "The look suits you," he told her as he brushed the back of his knuckles against her cheek in a parting caress. "I think we’d best get out of here before your chaperones come to check what we’re up to."
"It would help if we want a table," Dawn responded with her own teasing smile.
"I’m guessing the idea of dancing the night away in new boots doesn’t appeal?"
"You guess right. Why? Were you planning to cop a feel on the dance-floor?"
"Well, I am a guy… but, actually I was thinking it’d be kinda cool to get more of a chance to sit and talk, and maybe unravel a bit more of the enigma that is Dawn Summers." He gave her another soft lopsided smile before making his way back to the bike.
As his back retreated down the path, a little voice in Dawn’s head was reminding her that oxygen was a prerequisite to her survival. ‘Breathe, girl, breathe," it said.
There was more than an hour before the band was due to come on when they arrived at the Bronze and the place was only just starting to fill up.
"Why don’t I take our jackets and helmets to the cloakroom? You see if you can find a table and I’ll swing by the bar before I come find you?"
"Okay."
"What’s your poison?"
"Well, I would say vodka tonic to sound all sophisticated, but what with these pesky stamps on our hands, you better make it a diet coke."
He pressed an almost chaste kiss on her lips, before pulling back to smile at her surprised expression. "One coke coming up… and you don’t need to be sophisticated to impress me. You’re doing fine just being you."
As she waited at the table, Dawn’s ill will towards Spike was steadily growing. It was her first proper, unsupervised date. She was with a gorgeous, charming guy who gave every appearance of being as attracted to her as she was to him. She should be having the time of her life. Instead, this little English voice in her head kept saying, "if a guy seems too good to be true, then he probably is." It wasn’t fair. Even when he wasn’t there, the British pest wouldn’t just let her enjoy herself.
Then again, there was the other little voice that said if Spike and Buffy got back to the house before she did and found her note on the refrigerator, then there was always the possibility they would turn straight back around and haul her home. Of course, those instructions about being in bed if it was after half past eleven didn’t make it sound like they intended to rush back, so she was probably safe… unless they were just covering themselves. And Tara and Willow would probably find it first, anyway. The library would probably be closing soon, so it was almost guaranteed.
It wasn’t like it was a big deal. Buffy never asked for mom’s permission and she used to walk there and back on her own and that was before anyone knew about the whole slayer thing. Of course, it was before her mom knew that vampires were real as well, but minor point. It wasn’t her fault that Buffy wasn’t there to ask permission, and she had left a note.
Her train of thought was broken when a drink appeared in front of her. "One diet coke," Brandon announced as he set it down. The small white pellet that had been added to the cup had already dissolved by the time the brunette had reached the table.
"Sorry I’m so late. It took a bit longer to get Dawn outfitted than I had anticipated." Wesley apologised in a whisper as he greeted the two witches. "Is there a reader's lounge or somewhere that I can get us all a coffee while you tell us your news?"
"There's a coffee shop just around the corner," Tara offered. "And this place will be closing up soon anyway." She started to clear up the books she’d been using for her research, while Willow picked up a stack of printouts from a printer near the computer she had been working on. The Englishman was quick to step forward. "Those books must weigh a ton. Here let me get them." He took the stack from Tara’s arms, carrying them with ease.
Soon the trio were seated around a small table and armed with tall cups of coffee. Willow looked sheepish as she made her confession. "Last night, after the meeting I sent this email. I thought I was doing the right thing."
Wesley scanned the text of the document she gave him. "This was a very dangerous bluff to play. I’m assuming it was a bluff, that you wouldn’t in fact be prepared to use the full extent of your magic against human opponents."
"I don’t know. I mean I just meant to scare them off, but if they come after us… I guess I won’t know how I’ll react until I’m actually put to the test. I mean barrier spells and stuff like that have worked before, maybe they’ll work again."
"There’s something else as well. Spike asked Willow to check out Brandon and his father, just as a precaution. She hasn’t had much chance to work on it until tonight. It could just be coincidence…" Tara told him in a voice that conveyed little hope that it was. She nodded to Willow, who began to spread out the remaining print outs on the table in front of them, explaining what she had found. "Brandon’s dad only started teacher training when he was awarded custody in the divorce case seven years ago. Before that he was a war correspondent, and before that he worked on The Stars and Stripes."
"The forces newspaper?" Wes asked, his tone of voice showing that his interest had been piqued.
Willow nodded. "Yep. He’s ex-military… or maybe not so ex?"
Chapter 6.03
"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.
Chapter 6.04
"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 that 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 bike 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.
Chapter 6.05
Buffy was off the bike in a second, not even bothering to remove her helmet. She unravelled the bundle of leather to find the purse at its centre.
"It’s hers."
Spike could almost visibly see Buffy raising the same mental walls, as that day with Glory at the gas station replayed in both their minds.
He flung himself off the bike. Striding over to where she stood and gripping her by the shoulders, he shook her as hard as he could.
"Don’t you dare even think of hiding away in that head of yours, slayer. This isn’t your fault, and that there puddle isn’t her blood, but if you quit now and something does happen to her you’ll never know if you could have stopped it."
"You know?" Buffy looked to the vampire for confirmation.
"Of course, I bloody know. Bit’s made from you. Her blood sings, and this… it’s like the difference between Barry Manilow and a two hundred strong Welsh voice choir singing Bach. It isn’t hers. It could be the boy’s. It could be one of theirs, but there isn’t one drop of it hers. Now, are you with me?"
"I’m with you. So, what now? The hospital or here?"
"Here and then the hospital. If she made it there, she’ll be gettin' looked after. If she’s inside and someone’s after her, she could still be in trouble." He pulled Buffy’s phone from his pocket, passing it to her. "If you get Red and Wes to go straight to the hospital when he’s dropped off Tara with Harris and the missus, then maybe we’ll find out all the sooner."
The pair combed the club from balcony to backstage and everywhere in between. Spike’s keen eyesight spotted Brandon’s helmet and the one sitting next to it in the cloakroom, but he chose not to worry Buffy further. They were just about to head out, when they heard back from Wesley.
"Buffy?"
"Yeah, Wes. What’s the sitch?"
"It’s not good, I’m afraid. Brandon was brought in a little while ago by his father, but Dawn wasn’t with them."
"Well, what did he say? What happened?"
"He’s not saying much of anything from what I gather. We haven’t managed to get near him. He’s in ICU and there’s a policeman outside the room in case he comes 'round long enough to make a statement. Buffy, I get the impression they’re not really expecting him to pull through. Willow’s going to try what she called an old Jedi mind trick to see if she can get in, but she wants to recover a bit from helping with the barrier spells round The Magic Box and Lily’s apartment first."
"Shoot. I guess they’re playing for keeps. Is there anything Willow can do?"
"She won’t know until she actually sees what’s wrong. I think the reason she wants to recoup some of her power is more to do with what she anticipates she might have to do once we get in, than actually getting in."
"Well, unless Tara can come up with a location, it’s the best we’ve got. See ya in ten." Buffy ended the call and turned to Spike.
"I’m guessing you heard most of both sides of that."
"Enough to know I don’t have to string the boy up for not taking proper care of her. Let’s go."
"Hey, honey, I’m home," Sam called out as she made her way through the back door of the clapboard house. Riley stretched and rose from his position at the rather grubby window and went to meet her.
"Hey you." He stooped to give her a kiss. "Not that I’m complaining but I didn’t expect to see you tonight. I thought you were going to be busy over on the other side of town."
"We were. It’s done. Henriksen and Ogilvy are taking care of the clean-up now. I take it your vampire isn’t co-operating."
Riley shook his head and wandered back toward the window he’d been watching from earlier. It wasn’t really good luck that the house opposite 1630 Revello was empty. In fact, indirectly it was actually Spike’s fault. The house had remained unsold since the death of the previous owner, last time someone had used it to spy on the Summers household. "No sirree. I don’t know who this new guy is, but he seems to be running a motorbike taxi service. First, he brings Dawn home, then Willow, and then they left again about five, ten minutes later. And between visits Dawn heads out with some other biker.
The guys at Spike’s old crypt have seen zip, so they’re not there and they’re not patrolling. All the guys’ve got is some decomposing sub-T in the basement, and even for Spike that’s pretty crappy housekeeping.
As for the apartment he’s supposed to be subletting from Anya, we checked out her lease and got the address, but no one’s been there all day. We’ve got men there just in case, but…" He shrugged.
"You think he’s on to you? Skipped town?" Sam asked.
"No. He’s too arrogant for that. If he’s really managed to convince Buffy and the others that she’s in love with him, he’d more likely come looking for me than the other way around. He’d be in my face about it."
"Doesn’t he know you’re a happily married man?" Sam asked in what seemed to be a teasing voice. In reality, although she had little or no affection for the man she’d married, she’d heard more than she wanted to know about the slayer and her penchant for vampire lovers, repeated far more often than necessary, in her time with him.
"A monster like him wouldn’t even understand the concept."
"Okay. Enjoy your stakeout. I’m just going to take a walk, check on the others, and then I’m going to head back to Lowell for a nice, hot, soapy bubble-bath. If you get finished quick enough, you could always join me." She gave Riley a long deep kiss and a wicked smile before she left, not in anticipation of conjugal passion, as Riley thought, but at the idea of leaving him aroused and frustrated. "Tell Graham and the other guys upstairs I said hello."
"I don’t see why we have to all be here. Shouldn’t we be out looking for Dawn if she’s missing?" Xander asked from his seat at the research table.
"Because the more we split up the more vulnerable we are, honey." Anya replied as she checked the shelves, in preparation for making up a purchase order for one of her suppliers.
"Well, couldn’t we have been just as not vulnerable at our place, with the food and the beer and the Seven of Nine special on cable?"
"But here we have weapons, and spell components and sewer access. And if anything gets broken, Giles owns a share and has to help replace it, rather than it all belonging to us."
"Okay, I get the rest, but surely sewer access is of the bad. We don’t want a whole bunch of special ops commando guys swarming under our nice comfy barrier."
"It’s okay, Xander," Tara assured him. "Willow and I left kind of a trapdoor in the basement, but you have to know the password to use it, so we can get out, and if there’s trouble at their place Clem and his family can come in, or Willow, Wes, Buffy and Spike, but that’s it. And we can find Dawn quicker by doing a locator spell, which I’ll be doing shortly, by the way, than by wandering the streets."
"Not to mention it’s far less dangerous," Anya added.
"Hey." Willow’s mouth twisted up slightly to match her very subdued welcome.
"Hey, Will." Buffy and the redhead met in a hug of mutual consolation. Across their heads, Spike’s eyes met Wesley’s before, with identical minuscule shakes of their heads, they dismissed any idea of following suit, and Spike walked around the two women to greet the former watcher.
"Any fresh news?" asked the vampire.
"Not so far."
"Let’s go," Willow instructed. "And Spike, when we get there, let me do the talking; just stay quiet."
"What? I never said a bloody word."
"Just keep it that way," the redhead instructed.
"Won’t it be harder for you to get us all in the room than if you were going on your own?" Buffy asked.
"A bit," Willow admitted. "But if we all get in and I can do anything to help heal him, then I can draw energy from you and Wes to do it while Spike stands guard." Spike and Wes seemed to take this at face value, but Buffy was puzzled.
"Wouldn’t you be able to draw more energy from Spike than from Wes, what with the supernaturally strong gig and all?"
Spike shook his head, intervening before Willow’s embarrassment would allow her to do it.
"Evil, dead things and healing mojo don’t exactly go tiptoeing through the tulips hand in hand, pet. There’s plenty energy, but it’s all the wrong sort. Red’s got the right of it. I’ll keep an eye on the door."
As they neared the room with the police officer sitting on a chair outside it, Willow seemed to gain a marvellous focus, her entire being concentrated on the task in hand.
"Good evening, officer. Excuse us, my students and I need to go through to visit Mr Michaels."
"Your students?"
"Yes, medical students. We don’t get many wounds like this, and it’s important that their training covers as wide a cross-section as possible."
"If you say so, doctor."
The officer moved his chair aside and allowed the group to enter the room. As soon as they were inside Willow breathed a sigh of relief and dropped the blinds so that no one could see in from the corridor outside. She moved to the chart that hung from the foot of the bed, trying to make sense of the notes there but having difficulty due to the hurried handwriting and technical terms.
After about twenty seconds, Spike impatiently snatched the clipboard from her hands. Scanning down the pages he summarised his findings.
"He’s been shot"
"Well, I worked that out."
"It’s lodged too close to the heart, and he’s too weak from blood-loss for them to risk operating, but in the meantime one of his lungs is filling up with blood. According to this it’s just a matter of time before something gives. Add a bump on the head, probably from when he fell, and the fact he already had God knows what in his system before that, so they've got to be pretty careful about what drugs they might give him and he's in a fine mess."
"Pretty good for a layman," came the voice from behind them. "Almost exactly how they explained it to me, in fact. Now, perhaps you’ll tell me what you’re doing in my son’s room and how you got past the police guard out there."
Buffy shot an irritated glance at her fiancé. "You couldn’t watch the door like you were meant to? Em, Mr Michaels, I’m Buffy-."
"I know who you are, Miss Summers, Miss Rosenberg, Spike …or do you prefer Hostile 17? The question I asked is what you’re doing here. My son is dying. Isn’t that enough for you people?"
"If you know who we are, then, you know that we’re responsible for Dawn." Somehow, even though Spike was a good six inches shorter than the other man, the cold inhuman anger in his eyes made the difference seem irrelevant as he closed the gap between them with slow, measured strides. "Now, maybe your son is beyond help and maybe he isn’t, but Dawn is missing and your son might be able to tell us where we can find her. Even if that wasn’t the case, if you really knew these people you would know that they would do what they could to help your son. We would do it because he earned our loyalty when he stood by Dawn. They would do it simply because it’s the right thing to do. Hell, we’d even do it because if Dawn found out we lost her bloody date for that damn formal none of our lives would be worth living.
Medical science doesn’t hold out much hope for your boy. I guess it’s up to you whether we see if good old-fashioned mysticism can do any better, but if that were my boy lying in that bed, I’d be grovelling at Red’s feet 'round about now, rather than trying to piss her off.
Now, I think you owe the ladies an apology."