Disclaimer: Do not own BTVS, and associated characters, they belong to Joss Whedon et al. Do not own Seventh Heaven, or the plot line of that, it belongs to Spelling. Do not own the idea of an AU with them both, that belongs to gidgetgirl at CCS archive.
A/N: Okay, the 'Giles' idea was because of the group here, Giles has been a dad figure to all of them, and his relationship with Joyce has been canonical. This is a play-around with a new idea. Part of the summary is actually a line from the challenge itself, so nod to gidgetgirl for writing that line.
I climbed the stairs to Faith's bedroom, wishing I shared with her, instead of Anya. In this house, there are four bedrooms, Angel's, Faith's, Mom and Dad's, and then me, Anya and Buffy shared the biggest. We would buy a bigger house – with enough bedrooms for everyone, but it kinda came with the job. Dad's job. He's a priest, with the white collar, church type priests. It's not big with the money, but like Mom says, there's always enough for whatever we want to do, and we get 'a whole lot of love and friendship'. That's her reason for five kids. I'm the middle one, Dawn Giles. I can't wait to get to be as big as Faith and Angel, though it doesn't look to be happening any time soon. For one thing, I haven't 'grown' in the right place enough yet. Or had I?
I twisted the knob of the bedroom door slowly, trying not to make a sound. If Faith knew I'd snuck in to try on her bra to see if it fit yet – I'd be deader than dead. Dead like, stake through the heart, pile of ashes dead. But as I opened the door –
"You're so busted," I drew out the word with relish. My sister blinked at me, frozen to the spot. She was partially out of the window, her feet fumbling for the tree branch nearby. I folded my arms across my chest, and assumed the smirk-of-superiority that Faith had down to a tee. This was so blackmail material for the next century.
"You're sneaking out? Mom and Dad are going to be so unimpressed," I shook my head sorrowfully, sliding a look up at Faith as she clambered back in. "And to think, they left Angel in charge." I sighed heavily, enjoying milking every second of the torture I knew Faith was going through. Hey, a middle kid's got to have some fun some of the time, right?
"Dawn, it's just a party," Faith put her hands on her hips defensively. I noticed, with a secret smile of satisfaction that she was wearing the slutty top of slut-o-rama, that she and her friend Cordy had picked out at the mall, and sneaked back, without Dad or Mom seeing. Just a party. Who does she think she's kidding?
"Dawn," Faith glared at me, pulling her 'tough-guy' pose that works on Buffy when she's been messing in Faith's stuff. But this is the girl who used to have posters of 'Backstreet Boys' on her walls. There's too much potential for blackmailing her for me to be scared. Faith tossed back her hair defiantly, and I squinted closer, almost not believing what I was seeing.
"Are you wearing make-up?" She was! Faith had blue gunk around her eyes, and this shiny stuff on her lips. She looked really uncomfortable, kinda like the china doll Grandma gave me one Christmas, with staring eyes, and really weird lips. Faith scowled, and gave me a tight nod, hugging herself tightly. I shook my head, giggling.
"You did it all wrong," I informed her. "You're not really the blue eye-shadow type. You need to keep it simple, lip gloss, and mascara." Faith looked oddly at me, and I shrugged. I read the magazines Mom buys for Faith, and the number of makeovers in those things is like, a billion squared.
"Help me?" she queried, raising one eyebrow, like Mom does. I shook my head, a smile on my face.
"Not until you tell me where you're going," I demanded. Faith sighed, and scuffed the toe of her shoe against the carpet.
"It's a frat party," she said, lifting her chin challengingly. My mouth must have fallen open. Faith is fourteen, really not big with the old enough. Frat parties – hey, I've seen the teen movies. Frat parties mean drink, and sex, and smoking, and peer pressure, and sex...
"Does Angel know?" I spluttered, staring at her. Faith did the hair flip thing again, and shook her head.
"Nope. And if he finds out, I'll know where to look," she said evenly, glaring at me. Eep. I swallowed hard. I once dared to take Faith on, when I was eight. I had the bruises for a week afterward, but she was grounded for two months.
"Hold still," I sighed, wiping off the make up Faith had clumsily applied, and expertly slicking on a layer of lipgloss, and brushing her eyelashes with the mascara. I stood back, pleased with my handiwork. Hey – Faith actually looked pretty. I was a genius.
"Thanks," she said, examining herself in the mirror, pretty pleased with herself. She turned around, and ruffled my hair. I hate it when she does that, she's only two years older than me. "Thanks, D."
"Don't call me that," I shot back, annoyed. Faith has this thing of nicknaming everyone, I'm 'D', Angel is 'vamp-boy', because she jokes that he likes sleeping in way late, Anya is 'demon-gal', 'cause she bugs Faith all the time, but Faith has to say that one real quiet around Dad, and then Buffy is 'B'.
"Faith," I stopped her as she hooked one leg over the sill once more. I pasted on my best pleading face, the one I use when I want Angel's portion of chocolate pudding, and don't have to pay for it, like when Anya gives me hers. She paused reluctantly. "Don't go. Please?" She grinned at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Cover for me, Dawnie," she instructed then shimmied out of sight. I swallowed hard once more, thinking hard. Anya was really the one for the big plans, or Buffy managed to get round Angel by acting all cute, but I wasn't the little one and I hadn't got a clue how I'd cover for Faith.
I came downstairs slowly, listening out for Angel suddenly appearing and asking where Faith was, but he was still out. It was kind of cool though, Mom and Dad had gone early this morning to this wedding, Dad was taking it for some old friends of theirs, so they were going to be out all night. Angel was in charge, but right now he was out at football practise. I looked at my watch. It was seven thirty, he'd be back soon.
"Hey, Faith?" Anya was holding something suspicious behind her back. She tried to give me the innocent smile – the smile that Faith and I perfected to trick Dad and Mom into thinking Angel had done something instead of us.
"Yeah?" I tried to get a glimpse of what it was, but she tucked it behind her back further.
"Do you have anything I could use to stick fur with?" I stared at her, using the patented Giles pointed look. Anya's smile spread wider, and she held out the project. A large dog had been crayoned onto the page, and she'd coloured in the tail, head and ears already. She held a piece of fake fur in the other hand, trimmed to fit the shape. Along the bottom of the page, she'd written stuff in green, her favourite colour. I read it out loud.
"A dog would be good and capitalist because a dog finishes food that we don't eat and can't send to the little kids in Africa and a dog wouldn't cost anything because dogs are free from the pound." I raised one eyebrow at Anya. "You think this is going to work?"
Anya is nine, and really, really wants a dog. Mom and Dad say she's not old enough, and Angel isn't interested, Faith is more of a 'snake' person, and I kill goldfish. So she can't have one. The other thing Anya really really wants is money. She has a tin on her shelf in our room that she's been filling with money since she was three, and got given twenty dollars for her birthday. It's kind of an obsession, but useful when you want something – and you have cash. I don't think Faith's done chores for two years.
"Do you have the glue, or not?" she demanded impatiently. I nodded finally, pointing upstairs.
"On my desk," I replied, making my way to the kitchen. Buffy was perched on a chair at the table, busily scribbling at a drawing, the tip of her tongue poking out of her mouth.
"What are you doing?" Instantly, Buffy covered the drawing with her arms, and glowered at me. Shrugging, I poured myself a glass of milk, and snaffled a couple of cookies from the tin. I didn't really care what Buffy was doing. If she was making trouble, we'd know about it. Buffy's my youngest sister, she's only four but is the sneakiest of all of us.
The back door opened, and Angel walked in, a football under his arm. I wrinkled my nose; he was all sweaty. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, and glanced behind him, bringing a friend in. A blond guy walked in, and leant against the counter. Summing him up on Faith's magazine's scales, he was hot. Capital H, all the way.
"Hey Dawn," Angel grinned at me. "Grab us a soda, would you?" I crossed my arms.
"Did your little football practise drain you of all energy?" I demanded. "The fridge is right there."
The blond guy winked at me, and snaffled one of my chocolate chip cookies, stuffing it into his mouth whole. "I'll get 'em, Angel," he told my big brother, and batted his eyes at me. 'Fair maiden's saved me from being drained of all energy."
I could feel my cheeks heat up. Was this flirting? Angel laughed.
"Fair maiden? That's Dawnie," he said dismissively. "She's my kid sister. I have four of them. She's the middle kid. Dawn, this is Spike."
I waved at the guy, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. What kind of person over fourth grade waves at someone standing right there? Spike kind of wiggled his fingers back, and tossed Angel a can of soda. Angel is the eldest of us five Giles kids. He's sixteen, and acts like he's an adult now, just because he can drive. He's really tall, and he and Faith both have dark brown hair, like my English grandparents. When he was fourteen, he started getting uber-protective. If he knew where Faith had gone, he'd go fetch her, then kill her.
"So where's the oldest sister?" Spike asked, with a little smile at Angel. Angel looked at me.
"She's around," I said nonchalantly. "Probably in her bedroom, doing homework. You know Faith," I laughed nervously. It was so time for a Giles kid meeting, or Faith would be coming home from the party earlier than expected.
A/N: An opening chapter, to test the waters. If people actually like it, then I might update. If you want it updated, then please,
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