Quest for the Coat
Prologue–The Coat Is No Where To Be Found
"I'm looking for a coat," Elizabeth told the woman with the name tag over her heart that read "BECKY."
"Well," replied Becky, gray-brown eyebrow arched, obviously assessing whether or not the young girl in front of her was worth her attention. As if she herself was something more than an assistant-manager at a mediocre clothing store. "Well, we have a lot of coats. Anything specific?"
Lizzy pulled out a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "Actually, yes." She handed the piece of paper to Becky, who unfolded it to see a fairly handsome man with platinum blonde hair and high cheekbones, dressed in all black.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you must have given me the wrong paper. This is just a picture of–" She faltered. The man was a vaguely familiar. Who...? She shook the thoughts from her head and turned back to the customer. "This is just a man."
Lizzy's jaw dropped. "Just a man? Just a man? This is perfection, this is the epitome of cool, this is–" She checked herself. Why did she always ramble when it came to him? That wasn't why she was here. "See the coat? I want one like it."
Indeed, the man was wearing a coat. Long, black, and leather. The epitome of cool, as Lizzy put it.
"Sorry," Becky said, handing the piece of paper to the younger girl. "I did inventory myself. There was nothing like this. All of our leather coats are waist-length, and most are chocolate-brown. It's the new 'in color' of the season."
"Of course," she grumbled sarcastically as she exited the fifth store she'd been to that day. Was a coat just like Spike's so mich to ask? There had to be one somewhere.
And chances are that somewhere isn't Lincoln, Nebraska, thought Lizzy.
It was true. Lincoln, Nebraska was a wasteland. Especially for a teenager. It was liveable, but there had to be somewhere better. Some place that was more equipped to support a girl's needs–shopping, friends, boys, television, and horses.
Lizzy was too wrapped up in these thoughts to notice the upcoming brick wall. That is, until she walked straight into it.
The Coat Comes Closer Than She Ever Thought It Would
When one walks face-first into a brick wall and then falls ass-first onto the ground, you may be surprised to know that their first thought is not, "Wow, what a fantastic day I've been having!" No, their first thought is usually something along the lines of "F*&%! Godd@*$#%! Son of a b*%$#@!"
Which is exactly what Lizzy thought when she pried her eyes open to face the glaring light of the...moon? How long have I been laying here? thought Lizzy, panicked. She'd been shopping during the day, and now it was night. Night. As in, not day. That had to be a bad sign.
"Are you all right? That bruise looks bleedin' painful," said an accented voice, familiar, but impossible.
She turned her head, searing with pain, to face a large, pale, and slightly calloused hand. Tilting her head back, she saw the face belonging to the hand and gasped.
"Oh my god," she cried, disbelief and even shock evident in her voice. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."
The man pulled her up–without much help on her end–and said, "What are doing out here this late at night? You can be more than–what?–fifteen years old?"
The girl didn't reply, so he added, "Let me help you out here. This is the part where you tell me just how old you are."
"It-it's you," was all she could manage.
"Do we know each other?"
Lizzy said, "No. But you're him. James Marsters."
He looked confused. "Uh, no. I'm not."
"But–" He had the same white-blonde hair, the same eyes, the same cheekbones, and–trying not to appear too obvious–with a quick glance, it was clear he had the same body.
"The name's Spike."
She must've misheard him. "What?"
"Spike. Not James Whoever. What kind of a sissy name is that anyway? Almost as bloody bad as William."
Her heart stopped.
"William...the Bloody?"
He turned suddenly, surprise and suspicion etched on his face. "Who are you?"
"I'm...Lizzy." She smiled nervously. "Hi."
"How do you know about 'William the Bloody'?"
She didn't know what to say. "I sort of saw it on T.V."
"What?"
Clearly, she was dreaming. She had to be. Right? So she went with it. "Never mind. But you help people, right? Like, people in need?" He nodded, still suspicious. "Well, I'm in need of some help."
"What kind of help?"
"There's a...demon...who's...following me," she lied, a story beginning to form in her mind. "Because my...brother owes him the blood of an innocent....Like me. Possibly. Maybe. Sort of. I mean, assuming I can be considered an innocent."
He looked her up and down. "Why wouldn't you be an innocent?"
"You know, lack of church and prayer and such. Also, I killed a couple people. The usual sins of a fourteen-year-old girl."
"You killed someone?"
"They had sharp fangs and weird disfigured faces and they were attacking me. There were two of them. So I cut their heads off with this huge long knife I found. Then they exploded. Is that normal?"
He sighed. "I s'pose I ought to take you to Angel."
Lizzy snorted, and muttered under her breath, sarcastic, "Yay. Angel."
But apparently Spike had heard, and he looked down at her and said, "You don't like him either, eh?"
"Uh...I sort of met him once. He saved my brother...somehow. But he wasn't very nice or handsome." She batted her eyelashes at him. "Unlike you."
"Well, I s'pose I am rather–" he stopped himself. "But I'm too old for you, little girl!"
She was offended. "Little girl? I am not a little girl."
"Just...just be quiet and hurry up."
They made their way through the city of–what Lizzy assumed was–Los Angeles. She was short of breath after a while, but it apparently wasn't a problem for him. Because he doesn't breathe, stupid. But you know, this is cool being here with Spike and all. Except for the whole being in a dream part.
Finally, they made it to a tall office building with a sign in front that read those three ominous words, so fatal to the current season of Angel: "Wolfram and Hart."
"Why did Angel and everyone take the job here?" Lizzy couldn't help but comment. "I mean, talk about selling out."
He turned on her again. "How do you know about that?"
"Um...well, when he saved my brother he told me everything about himself. From that whole thing with Buffy, to that whole thing with Cordelia, to, you know, being really gay." Because of Spike's disbelieving look she said, "Well, he didn't say he was gay in so many words. It was more like he emanated an...aura of...gayness."
"No, really, how do you know all of the things you do, about Angel and me?"
Lizzy frowned, a little disheartened that he didn't believe her story. But she tried another angle. "Okay, you got me. The truth is, I'm a psychic. And one of my visions told me that I was supposed to find Angel and warn him about...something."
"About what?"
"Well, I'm still waiting for the second part of the vision. You know, like, the sequel. Like the Two Towers of my visions."
"Uh-huh...what are you talking about?"
She stared, aghast. "You haven't seen the Lord of the Rings movies? Oh my god, you are so deprived. They are so good! And Orlando Bloom is so hot!" She paused, then smiled up at him. "Not as hot as you, of course. But very hot, nonetheless."
"No, I mean, you're a psychic?"
"Oh, that. Yeah."
"And one of your visions told you to warn Angel about...something."
"Yeah."
Spike shook his head in resignation, and the two continued the walk into Wolfram and Hart, up to the sixth floor, and into Angel's office.
The office was exactly like it was on the show. There was absolutely no difference between the office on the show and the office now, in Lizzy's dream. (Is it a dream? It's so real. So exact. So un-dreamlike, or whatever.) And behind the large desk in the back-center of the office was Angel himself, in all his gay glory.
"Spike," Angel said, his voice gruff. "What do you want? Who's that with you?"
"Well, this is, uh, Lizzy, right?" She nodded. "She's a psychic, or so she says, and she's here to warn you about somethin' or other. Apparently, she doesn't know the sequel yet."
Angel looked puzzled. "What?"
Spike shrugged. "Ask the girl."
So, Angel turned to Lizzy. "What's this moron talking about?"
"He's not a moron, you asshole!" Lizzy fumed. "You're the moron."
"Wow," muttered Spike. "This girl is bloody brilliant."
"And its not that hard to understand," she continued. "I had a vision that I was supposed to warn you that you were in trouble. I just don't know what kind of trouble. Yet."
"Uh-huh..."
"Oh, by the way, 'the One With the Angelic Face'?" Lizzy said. "So not."
Angel frowned. "You don't think I have an angelic face?"
Lizzy sighed. "Well...no. You don't."
"I'm not handsome? My whole life has been sham! What am I to do? How am I to go on?" Angel cried.
Spike rolled his eyes. "Get over yourself, you ninny."
Okay, okay. The previous five lines didn't really happen. But wouldn't that be funny?
So...where was I? Ah, yes...
"So not," Lizzy said.
Angel frowned, and said, "How old are you?"
"Just turned fourteen."
"Where are your parents?"
They're back in Lincoln, Nebraska. In reality.
"They're, uh...you know. Not around. They've been kidnaped. By demons, and whatnot."
Angel lifted an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Really! They were kidnaped," Lizzy cried.
"And what do you want from me?" Angel asked.
"Oh my god, working here has made you even dumber. Hello! Parents kidnaped. By demons. It's kind of your job to save them."
"Well, I have a lot of work to do," he replied. "I'll get to it, of course, but there are other cases and things I need to do that are helping to stop the spread of evil."
Lizzy stared. Her fake parents had been kidnaped by fake demons, and Angel said other things were more important. Hello, rude much?
Spike said, "God, even I think that was wrong. This little girl's parents have been kidnaped, and you're just gonna blow her off?"
"I'm not a little girl!" Lizzy protested.
Angel sighed and put down his pen as if he was dealing with two-year-olds. "Look, I'm sorry for your loss and all, and I want to help. But I'm just so busy."
"Well," yelled Lizzy, "fine! Spike will help me, and I don't need you!"
Spike interjected, "Uh, I never said I'd–" Lizzy turned and gave him a look that would kill any ordinary human, and at least petrified the toughest of the undead. "But I will."
"Oh, that's so sweet of you to offer."
"But, uh, can you clarify something for me? Is any of that stuff you told me earlier, about your brother owing the blood of an innocent, and you being followed by demons, and you killing two vampires–is that true?"
Lizzy sighed. "No. I was lying. Except about that whole thing with Angel's aura. You have to admit that that's true. But I only lied because I didn't think you'd believe my story about being a psychic....See, I'm not a very good psychic. My visions have mostly only been of you and Angel and your group....That's why I can't find my parents. I can't have a vision of them."
"I see."
Suddenly, a head peeked through the door. "What's going on?"
Lizzy turned to see Wesley, a look of pure sadness and total loss on his face. She approached him slowly and stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Lizzy."
He looked down at her hand, but chose not to shake it. Instead, he turned to Spike and asked, "Who is she?"
"A psychic."
Lizzy got an idea. "That's right, Wesley. I'm a psychic. And I want you to know, I'm very sorry for your loss. Of Fred, I mean," she clarified, even though it didn't really need clarifying. "And, even though you were told her soul was burned in some eternal hellfire or whatever, that's not true. She's okay. I got a vision about it. And she just wants you to move on and be happy. But she can't be saved, and she can't be contacted. Besides, pulling someone out of heaven can result in some crappy things. Like, awkwardness and singing and dancing."
Spike looked sharply at the young girl, but remained silent.
"Are you lying?" Wesley asked her, tears glimmering in his eyes.
"No," Lizzy assured, even though she was. "She's okay." And then, as an afterthought, she whispered, "But she wants you to be careful in your dealings with Illyria. And don't try to kill Gunn again. I mean, I think he's a total ass, too, but Fred doesn't want to see that side of you."
Wesley looked a little horrified and a little hopeful. He then smiled and asked Angel, "So why is this young psychic here?"
Angel looked uncomfortable, but he replied, "Her parents were kidnaped by, um, demons. Spike's on the case."
Spike said, "Only because you were too much of an arse to do it yourself. I mean, I wanted to help, but it's your job. 'Oh, I'm Angel, and I'm way too busy to actually help people.'"
"Well," Wesley said, the grin on his face growing larger by the moment, "I'd like to help. If you don't mind."
She smiled encouragingly at him. Sure, it would cut into her alone time with Spike, but Wesley needed something, anything, to hold onto. Even a wild goose chase. So she said, "Of course. I appreciate all the help I can get."
Really, I am so kind, Lizzy thought. I mean, letting them think they're helping me, when really, I'm helping them.
"When did your parents go missing?" asked Angel suddenly.
"A while ago. I don't know exactly. I've had an abundance of visions lately, and its really disorienting me."
"I see," he said. "And do you know what kind of demons abducted them?"
Lizzy racked her brain. "They were called, uh, White Lighters," she said finally, settling on a group of angel-type beings from the T.V. show Charmed. "The guy's name, the ringleader guy, was Leo."
"Leo?"
"I know, it sounds harmless. But, trust me, he's a real a-hole."
"All right," Spike said, taking the initiative. "White lighters. Leo. Wesley, can you ask your people about it?"
"I'm on it," Wes replied.
"Now, why would this Leo guy be after your parents?"
Lizzy sighed. "I don't know. Maybe because of me? Because I'm a psychic?"
"That could be it," Angel said.
There was a quick knock on the door, and then Harmony Kendall entered. Angel asked, clearly annoyed, "What, Harmony?"
"I was just wondering–" She stopped speaking suddenly, as soon as she caught sight of Lizzy. "Oh my god," she exclaimed. "What happened to your head?"
It was at that moment Lizzy remembered the gruesome-looking bruise on her forehead, a souvenir from her walk into a brick wall. But she wasn't going to admit that was how she got it to Harmony, or anyone, for that matter. How embarrassing! So, instead, she said, "I don't know. I think I was knocked out. Maybe I was mugged or something."
"Well," Harmony said, approaching. "I'm always happy to help out another blonde. Come with me to the little girl's room, and we'll get you all cleaned up."
So, Lizzy allowed herself to be led away by the vampire girl who was also Angel's secretary and one of the only girls left on the show. Finally she was pushed in front of the mirror of the girl's restroom of Wolfram and Hart (sixth floor). And what she saw horrified her.
No wonder Spike was using my age as an excuse for us not to go out. Look at me! I'm a disaster, Lizzy couldn't help but think when she saw the enormous yellow-blue-red bruise on her forehead. And her hair was all frizzed out. And her mascara was running. She looked like a train wreck. A train wreck that had been picked up by a tornado and dropped in a garbage dump.
"Oh my god," she finally said, the horror of her own appearance coming through in her voice.
"It's not that bad," Harmony said encouragingly. After a moment: "Okay, yes, it is. But it's all fixable with a little makeup." With that she pulled a HUGE cosmetics kit out of her purse.
Lizzy's eyebrows went up. "You call that a little makeup?"
"Oh please," Harmony responded. "I have at least five times this much at home."
"My friend Audrey would hate you in a heartbeat. She has this weird prejudice against makeup. Says its superficial."
"It's not about hiding anything. It's about making you feel better about yourself, which makes you more attractive. Confidence. It's the ultimate accessory. After shoes."
"I'll have to tell her that."
Harmony proceeded to slather about ten pounds of concealer and foundation onto Lizzy's face. She then applied charcoal eyeliner around her eyes, and she redid Lizzy's mascara. A little blush and a little lip gloss finished the process.
"There," the vampire said, smiling at her work. "I am a miracle-worker."
Lizzy glanced in the mirror. The bruise was mostly covered up, her mascara was fixed, and her face looked much better. But she wouldn't exactly call it a miracle. However, at least she'd look something other than completely terrifying in the presence of Spike.
"Um, do you have a hairbrush?" Lizzy asked.
"Of course! Your hair! How could I be so careless?" Harmony dug a brush out of her bag and handed it to Lizzy. "Here you go, um–what's your name?"
"Lizzy."
"Oh, well, here you go, Lizzy."
As she attempted to brush through the bird nest that was her hair, Lizzy asked, "So, um, Harmony. You used to date Spike, right?"
Harmony peered at her from behind a compact mirror which she was apparently using to do a touch-up. "Ye-e-s," she replied hesitantly. "Why?"
"Well," Lizzy began nervously. "What's it like, actually dating him?"
The elder blonde smiled knowingly. "Oh, I get it. You've got a crush on him. Well, first off, he's too old for you. But I have to say I can't blame you. He's very yummy. " Lizzy blushed. "But as for dating him, it sucks. He tended to neglect me. But I think that's just because he didn't really love me, you know?"
"Yeah. I know."
"Well," Harmony said. "We better get you back to Angel's office."
So they headed back, Harmony happy to have done someone a favor, Lizzy more secure in the thought of Spike seeing her. As soon as the entered through the office doors, Angel and Spike suddenly went very quiet. They were talking about me. Or Harmony. But probably me.
"What?" Lizzy asked, looking from Angel to Spike, suddenly realizing that she was surrounded by vampires. Good vampires, yes, but vampires all the same. Her heart sped up with fear, and she tried desperately to breathe. She couldn't make herself take in any oxygen.
"Are you all right?" asked Spike.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to force something, anything out of her mouth. Finally, she managed to nod in the affirmative.
Harmony said, "Are you sure? You look really pale beneath all that makeup."
"Fine," she grunted. Calm down, she thought. Angel and Spike both have souls. And Harmony would be so fired if she tried to kill me. It's okay. Wesley and Gunn and Fred–before she died–have been alone in the presence of these three vampires many times, and have never died. Besides, she reminded herself, this is just a dream. Right?
Angel gave her a peculiar look, but he said nothing to her and turned back to Spike. "If you're gonna do this, solve this alleged kidnaping, you need to do it quick," he said, trying to keep his voice low. But she could still hear him. "You need to start tonight. Take her back out there, to where you found her, and start form the beginning. Trace back her steps, talk about her visions, whatever. We need a good start by tomorrow."
Spike glared at Angel for a moment, obviously a little cheesed off that he was being such a dill hole, but he said, "Okay. Fine." Then, turning to Lizzy, he said, "Come on, little girl. Let's head out." Than, as an afterthought, he said, "But we best give you somethin' to fight with, in case the situation arises."
He walked behind Angel's desk and opened the weapons cabinet. A glimmering dagger caught his attention, and a minute later, it was in Lizzy's hands, and the two were waiting for the elevator to begin moving down.
"Now be careful with that thing," warned the Brit. "It's dangerous, okay? It's all fun and games until you stab yourself with a dagger."
"Um..."
"And, for the love of God, keep it in the bloody sheath unless it needs to be out."
"Um..."
"And if we do run into anything dangerous, let me handle it, please. Unless I'm helpless, which, let's face it, is very unlikely, don't start hacking away at anything. Or if your in immediate danger and I can't get to you. Then its okay."
"Um..."
"Yes?"
"Well, I was just wondering, you know, what's it like to be a real hero? To make a difference?"
He blinked at her in surprise. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, I'll tell you that much. I lost the lady I love because I was a hero. So did Angel. It happens to be the same woman, but that's a whole 'nother story. And Angel's friend, I can't remember his name, he was a hero, and he died, and that made everyone miserable and miss him. Bein' a hero's not so great."
"So why do you do it?"
There was a ding, and the elevator opened to the first floor. "Come on, little girl. It's time to go," he said, his voice tight. But just before they stepped out of the elevator, she caught his eye. And sparkling in one was a tear.
The Coat And The Ruby Slippers
"So what's it like, having a vision?" Spike asked curiously.
Lizzy shrugged, though he didn't really notice in the dark of the night. "It's...hard to explain. I don't really know. Whenever I have one, it's like I lose touch with reality, with myself. I can't feel much of anything. And I get a message from...whatever. Not with pictures, so much. It's just there, in my head, like a letter from the Powers That Be."
"Oh. So it doesn't hurt?"
She sighed. "No. It doesn't hurt." She was getting sick of lying to him like this. She didn't have visions, she wasn't being stalked by demons, her parents hadn't been kidnaped. None of it was true. But she couldn't explain to him that this was just a dream...
...Because she didn't really know if it was.
Everything was so real. If it was a dream, it was an elaborate dream, a dream that made sense, that was consistent with real life. Or at least the real life of the televisions show Angel.
Besides, if it was a dream, a dream that Lizzy was controlling herself, would Spike keep telling her that he was too old for her, keep calling her "Little Girl"? She doubted it.
But if it wasn't a dream, than what was it? An alternate universe? Was that brick wall a portal of some sort?
She didn't know, and she didn't want to think about it. So she turned her attention back to Spike.
"Listen, Lizzy," he said.
"Yeah?"
"I just want you to know that even though Angel won't help, and even though he wants to rush this case along, I'm going to try to solve it, no matter how long it takes. Because I think I know the answer to your question. About why I try to be a hero, why I sacrifice as much as I do. It's because of people like you. Innocent, not asking for trouble, and then these horrible things happen to you. Awful things. Awful things like the things I did when I was evil."
Lizzy blinked back tears. She couldn't go on lying like this. Not to him.
"Spike," she began.
"What? I sound like a ponce, don't I?"
"No," she said. "I think that's wonderful that you want to make amends, that you want to atone. You should. But those evil things you did, it wasn't you. It was a demon, a demon that had control of your body. Not William."
"But it was me. I am Spike, I am William, I am the vampire, and I am the soul. I am all of those things."
"Well, maybe you'll do a better job of making amends than Angel has. He sold out. He signed a contract with the devil. Don't do the same thing."
"I..."
She took a deep breath. "But, I have to tell you something. I'm not...the person you think I am. I'm not a psychic, I'm not anything. I can't tell you how I know what I do about you, but I'm not evil. I'm just a regular girl from Nebraska. And all I want to do is go home." She was crying now. "I miss my parents, who haven't been kidnaped, and my friends, especially Molly, because she's the coolest, and I miss riding horses, and I've only been gone a while, but this place is just so different, and I want to go home!"
"You're not a psychic?"
"No. But when you go back, don't tell Angel or Wesley or Harmony. Especially Wesley. He needs some peace of mind. Just tell them you solved the case. You found my parents, and I went home. I won't bother you anymore. I'll try to find my own way back."
He stared at her for a while and said nothing. It felt as if he had been looking at her with that steely gaze for what seemed like hours. Finally, he said, "Okay. Can I help you get home?"
"I don't know what–" She stopped suddenly as she caught sight of his coat. And the idea popped in her head almost instantly. "I think that, to go home, I need your coat."
"My–?"
"Your coat."
"But, why? This is my coat. I mean, I love this coat."
She sighed. Well, I already sound like a crazy person. I might as well explain my idea. "I think it's like the ruby slippers."
"Huh?"
"From the Wizard of Oz? You know, the ruby slippers that Dorothy wore? I think...I think that the coat is my version of the ruby slippers."
He looked confused. Confusion was a cute look on him. "Why would my coat be your ruby slippers?"
"It's a long story. But please? I'm not even sure if this will work."
He took off his coat and looked at it. It had been with him so long. It had been with him when Buffy had been with him. It had been with him when Drusilla had been with him. It had been with him before he had a soul.
But he was starting over, right? Turning a new leaf. And maybe getting rid of his coat was just the way to start. Besides, if her half-baked scheme didn't work, he'd still have it.
So he handed the black leather coat over to her grudgingly. "Just, if it works, this whole ruby slipper thing," he said. "Please, take care of the coat."
She slipped it on and smiled at him. "Of course."
"You know, Little Girl, you're not so bad."
She didn't protest to the nickname. Closing her eyes, she said, trying not to giggle, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home."
Spike watched her act like a poor imitation of Judy Garland and couldn't help but laugh. There was brilliant white flash, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened them again, she was gone. He whispered to the air, "Goodbye, Little Girl. Goodbye, Lizzy. Goodbye, Coat."
Epilogue–The Coat In The Closet
"There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like..." Lizzy was murmuring in her sleep.
Suddenly, a blaring noise caused the girl to sit straight up. Bleary-eyed, Lizzy looked over and saw her alarm clock beeping, the time flashing 6:30. "Ugh," she mumbled incoherently. "School."
She hit the snooze button, but she couldn't get back to sleep. So she took the opportunity to think about her dream. She remembered it perfectly. From the way Spike had looked to the way her bruise had felt to the way Wesley had had that tear glistening in his eye when she told him about her "vision" of Fred. All of it she remembered. Every word spoken. Every glance Angel and Spike had exchanged. Every lie she had told.
"I'll never have a good dream like that again," she muttered.
That's when she noticed her mother standing in the doorway.
"Yeah, Mom, what?" she asked.
"Are you all right? Do you remember what happened?"
"What happened?"
"You walked into a brick wall, dear. You were knocked unconscious. Luckily, my friend, Anne, noticed you and called me immediately. You've been out since."
Lizzy sighed. "Oh yeah. Ow."
"Are you up to going to school, because you don't have to? I'll call and say you're sick, if you'd like."
Groggily, Lizzy nodded and rolled over.
"Do I need to take you to the hospital? I was going to yesterday, but Anne said you were fine. Just a little bump. And then you did wake up once, and you were just probably so tired, and you went back to sleep."
"No, Mom. I'm fine."
"Well, then, let's go to breakfast at Village Inn, okay? It'll be fun."
Lizzy stumbled out of bed and staggered over to her closet. She grabbed at the first thing she could and pulled it off the hanger.
And then she looked at what she had in her hands.
A leather coat, long and black and beautiful. So cool, so unbelievable, so...
It wasn't a dream. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't a dream. Tears of happiness welled up in her eyes.
With a smile on her face, she slipped the coat on and yelled, "Mom! I think I will go to school today."
Prologue–The Coat Is No Where To Be Found
"I'm looking for a coat," Elizabeth told the woman with the name tag over her heart that read "BECKY."
"Well," replied Becky, gray-brown eyebrow arched, obviously assessing whether or not the young girl in front of her was worth her attention. As if she herself was something more than an assistant-manager at a mediocre clothing store. "Well, we have a lot of coats. Anything specific?"
Lizzy pulled out a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "Actually, yes." She handed the piece of paper to Becky, who unfolded it to see a fairly handsome man with platinum blonde hair and high cheekbones, dressed in all black.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you must have given me the wrong paper. This is just a picture of–" She faltered. The man was a vaguely familiar. Who...? She shook the thoughts from her head and turned back to the customer. "This is just a man."
Lizzy's jaw dropped. "Just a man? Just a man? This is perfection, this is the epitome of cool, this is–" She checked herself. Why did she always ramble when it came to him? That wasn't why she was here. "See the coat? I want one like it."
Indeed, the man was wearing a coat. Long, black, and leather. The epitome of cool, as Lizzy put it.
"Sorry," Becky said, handing the piece of paper to the younger girl. "I did inventory myself. There was nothing like this. All of our leather coats are waist-length, and most are chocolate-brown. It's the new 'in color' of the season."
"Of course," she grumbled sarcastically as she exited the fifth store she'd been to that day. Was a coat just like Spike's so mich to ask? There had to be one somewhere.
And chances are that somewhere isn't Lincoln, Nebraska, thought Lizzy.
It was true. Lincoln, Nebraska was a wasteland. Especially for a teenager. It was liveable, but there had to be somewhere better. Some place that was more equipped to support a girl's needs–shopping, friends, boys, television, and horses.
Lizzy was too wrapped up in these thoughts to notice the upcoming brick wall. That is, until she walked straight into it.
The Coat Comes Closer Than She Ever Thought It Would
When one walks face-first into a brick wall and then falls ass-first onto the ground, you may be surprised to know that their first thought is not, "Wow, what a fantastic day I've been having!" No, their first thought is usually something along the lines of "F*&%! Godd@*$#%! Son of a b*%$#@!"
Which is exactly what Lizzy thought when she pried her eyes open to face the glaring light of the...moon? How long have I been laying here? thought Lizzy, panicked. She'd been shopping during the day, and now it was night. Night. As in, not day. That had to be a bad sign.
"Are you all right? That bruise looks bleedin' painful," said an accented voice, familiar, but impossible.
She turned her head, searing with pain, to face a large, pale, and slightly calloused hand. Tilting her head back, she saw the face belonging to the hand and gasped.
"Oh my god," she cried, disbelief and even shock evident in her voice. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."
The man pulled her up–without much help on her end–and said, "What are doing out here this late at night? You can be more than–what?–fifteen years old?"
The girl didn't reply, so he added, "Let me help you out here. This is the part where you tell me just how old you are."
"It-it's you," was all she could manage.
"Do we know each other?"
Lizzy said, "No. But you're him. James Marsters."
He looked confused. "Uh, no. I'm not."
"But–" He had the same white-blonde hair, the same eyes, the same cheekbones, and–trying not to appear too obvious–with a quick glance, it was clear he had the same body.
"The name's Spike."
She must've misheard him. "What?"
"Spike. Not James Whoever. What kind of a sissy name is that anyway? Almost as bloody bad as William."
Her heart stopped.
"William...the Bloody?"
He turned suddenly, surprise and suspicion etched on his face. "Who are you?"
"I'm...Lizzy." She smiled nervously. "Hi."
"How do you know about 'William the Bloody'?"
She didn't know what to say. "I sort of saw it on T.V."
"What?"
Clearly, she was dreaming. She had to be. Right? So she went with it. "Never mind. But you help people, right? Like, people in need?" He nodded, still suspicious. "Well, I'm in need of some help."
"What kind of help?"
"There's a...demon...who's...following me," she lied, a story beginning to form in her mind. "Because my...brother owes him the blood of an innocent....Like me. Possibly. Maybe. Sort of. I mean, assuming I can be considered an innocent."
He looked her up and down. "Why wouldn't you be an innocent?"
"You know, lack of church and prayer and such. Also, I killed a couple people. The usual sins of a fourteen-year-old girl."
"You killed someone?"
"They had sharp fangs and weird disfigured faces and they were attacking me. There were two of them. So I cut their heads off with this huge long knife I found. Then they exploded. Is that normal?"
He sighed. "I s'pose I ought to take you to Angel."
Lizzy snorted, and muttered under her breath, sarcastic, "Yay. Angel."
But apparently Spike had heard, and he looked down at her and said, "You don't like him either, eh?"
"Uh...I sort of met him once. He saved my brother...somehow. But he wasn't very nice or handsome." She batted her eyelashes at him. "Unlike you."
"Well, I s'pose I am rather–" he stopped himself. "But I'm too old for you, little girl!"
She was offended. "Little girl? I am not a little girl."
"Just...just be quiet and hurry up."
They made their way through the city of–what Lizzy assumed was–Los Angeles. She was short of breath after a while, but it apparently wasn't a problem for him. Because he doesn't breathe, stupid. But you know, this is cool being here with Spike and all. Except for the whole being in a dream part.
Finally, they made it to a tall office building with a sign in front that read those three ominous words, so fatal to the current season of Angel: "Wolfram and Hart."
"Why did Angel and everyone take the job here?" Lizzy couldn't help but comment. "I mean, talk about selling out."
He turned on her again. "How do you know about that?"
"Um...well, when he saved my brother he told me everything about himself. From that whole thing with Buffy, to that whole thing with Cordelia, to, you know, being really gay." Because of Spike's disbelieving look she said, "Well, he didn't say he was gay in so many words. It was more like he emanated an...aura of...gayness."
"No, really, how do you know all of the things you do, about Angel and me?"
Lizzy frowned, a little disheartened that he didn't believe her story. But she tried another angle. "Okay, you got me. The truth is, I'm a psychic. And one of my visions told me that I was supposed to find Angel and warn him about...something."
"About what?"
"Well, I'm still waiting for the second part of the vision. You know, like, the sequel. Like the Two Towers of my visions."
"Uh-huh...what are you talking about?"
She stared, aghast. "You haven't seen the Lord of the Rings movies? Oh my god, you are so deprived. They are so good! And Orlando Bloom is so hot!" She paused, then smiled up at him. "Not as hot as you, of course. But very hot, nonetheless."
"No, I mean, you're a psychic?"
"Oh, that. Yeah."
"And one of your visions told you to warn Angel about...something."
"Yeah."
Spike shook his head in resignation, and the two continued the walk into Wolfram and Hart, up to the sixth floor, and into Angel's office.
The office was exactly like it was on the show. There was absolutely no difference between the office on the show and the office now, in Lizzy's dream. (Is it a dream? It's so real. So exact. So un-dreamlike, or whatever.) And behind the large desk in the back-center of the office was Angel himself, in all his gay glory.
"Spike," Angel said, his voice gruff. "What do you want? Who's that with you?"
"Well, this is, uh, Lizzy, right?" She nodded. "She's a psychic, or so she says, and she's here to warn you about somethin' or other. Apparently, she doesn't know the sequel yet."
Angel looked puzzled. "What?"
Spike shrugged. "Ask the girl."
So, Angel turned to Lizzy. "What's this moron talking about?"
"He's not a moron, you asshole!" Lizzy fumed. "You're the moron."
"Wow," muttered Spike. "This girl is bloody brilliant."
"And its not that hard to understand," she continued. "I had a vision that I was supposed to warn you that you were in trouble. I just don't know what kind of trouble. Yet."
"Uh-huh..."
"Oh, by the way, 'the One With the Angelic Face'?" Lizzy said. "So not."
Angel frowned. "You don't think I have an angelic face?"
Lizzy sighed. "Well...no. You don't."
"I'm not handsome? My whole life has been sham! What am I to do? How am I to go on?" Angel cried.
Spike rolled his eyes. "Get over yourself, you ninny."
Okay, okay. The previous five lines didn't really happen. But wouldn't that be funny?
So...where was I? Ah, yes...
"So not," Lizzy said.
Angel frowned, and said, "How old are you?"
"Just turned fourteen."
"Where are your parents?"
They're back in Lincoln, Nebraska. In reality.
"They're, uh...you know. Not around. They've been kidnaped. By demons, and whatnot."
Angel lifted an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Really! They were kidnaped," Lizzy cried.
"And what do you want from me?" Angel asked.
"Oh my god, working here has made you even dumber. Hello! Parents kidnaped. By demons. It's kind of your job to save them."
"Well, I have a lot of work to do," he replied. "I'll get to it, of course, but there are other cases and things I need to do that are helping to stop the spread of evil."
Lizzy stared. Her fake parents had been kidnaped by fake demons, and Angel said other things were more important. Hello, rude much?
Spike said, "God, even I think that was wrong. This little girl's parents have been kidnaped, and you're just gonna blow her off?"
"I'm not a little girl!" Lizzy protested.
Angel sighed and put down his pen as if he was dealing with two-year-olds. "Look, I'm sorry for your loss and all, and I want to help. But I'm just so busy."
"Well," yelled Lizzy, "fine! Spike will help me, and I don't need you!"
Spike interjected, "Uh, I never said I'd–" Lizzy turned and gave him a look that would kill any ordinary human, and at least petrified the toughest of the undead. "But I will."
"Oh, that's so sweet of you to offer."
"But, uh, can you clarify something for me? Is any of that stuff you told me earlier, about your brother owing the blood of an innocent, and you being followed by demons, and you killing two vampires–is that true?"
Lizzy sighed. "No. I was lying. Except about that whole thing with Angel's aura. You have to admit that that's true. But I only lied because I didn't think you'd believe my story about being a psychic....See, I'm not a very good psychic. My visions have mostly only been of you and Angel and your group....That's why I can't find my parents. I can't have a vision of them."
"I see."
Suddenly, a head peeked through the door. "What's going on?"
Lizzy turned to see Wesley, a look of pure sadness and total loss on his face. She approached him slowly and stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Lizzy."
He looked down at her hand, but chose not to shake it. Instead, he turned to Spike and asked, "Who is she?"
"A psychic."
Lizzy got an idea. "That's right, Wesley. I'm a psychic. And I want you to know, I'm very sorry for your loss. Of Fred, I mean," she clarified, even though it didn't really need clarifying. "And, even though you were told her soul was burned in some eternal hellfire or whatever, that's not true. She's okay. I got a vision about it. And she just wants you to move on and be happy. But she can't be saved, and she can't be contacted. Besides, pulling someone out of heaven can result in some crappy things. Like, awkwardness and singing and dancing."
Spike looked sharply at the young girl, but remained silent.
"Are you lying?" Wesley asked her, tears glimmering in his eyes.
"No," Lizzy assured, even though she was. "She's okay." And then, as an afterthought, she whispered, "But she wants you to be careful in your dealings with Illyria. And don't try to kill Gunn again. I mean, I think he's a total ass, too, but Fred doesn't want to see that side of you."
Wesley looked a little horrified and a little hopeful. He then smiled and asked Angel, "So why is this young psychic here?"
Angel looked uncomfortable, but he replied, "Her parents were kidnaped by, um, demons. Spike's on the case."
Spike said, "Only because you were too much of an arse to do it yourself. I mean, I wanted to help, but it's your job. 'Oh, I'm Angel, and I'm way too busy to actually help people.'"
"Well," Wesley said, the grin on his face growing larger by the moment, "I'd like to help. If you don't mind."
She smiled encouragingly at him. Sure, it would cut into her alone time with Spike, but Wesley needed something, anything, to hold onto. Even a wild goose chase. So she said, "Of course. I appreciate all the help I can get."
Really, I am so kind, Lizzy thought. I mean, letting them think they're helping me, when really, I'm helping them.
"When did your parents go missing?" asked Angel suddenly.
"A while ago. I don't know exactly. I've had an abundance of visions lately, and its really disorienting me."
"I see," he said. "And do you know what kind of demons abducted them?"
Lizzy racked her brain. "They were called, uh, White Lighters," she said finally, settling on a group of angel-type beings from the T.V. show Charmed. "The guy's name, the ringleader guy, was Leo."
"Leo?"
"I know, it sounds harmless. But, trust me, he's a real a-hole."
"All right," Spike said, taking the initiative. "White lighters. Leo. Wesley, can you ask your people about it?"
"I'm on it," Wes replied.
"Now, why would this Leo guy be after your parents?"
Lizzy sighed. "I don't know. Maybe because of me? Because I'm a psychic?"
"That could be it," Angel said.
There was a quick knock on the door, and then Harmony Kendall entered. Angel asked, clearly annoyed, "What, Harmony?"
"I was just wondering–" She stopped speaking suddenly, as soon as she caught sight of Lizzy. "Oh my god," she exclaimed. "What happened to your head?"
It was at that moment Lizzy remembered the gruesome-looking bruise on her forehead, a souvenir from her walk into a brick wall. But she wasn't going to admit that was how she got it to Harmony, or anyone, for that matter. How embarrassing! So, instead, she said, "I don't know. I think I was knocked out. Maybe I was mugged or something."
"Well," Harmony said, approaching. "I'm always happy to help out another blonde. Come with me to the little girl's room, and we'll get you all cleaned up."
So, Lizzy allowed herself to be led away by the vampire girl who was also Angel's secretary and one of the only girls left on the show. Finally she was pushed in front of the mirror of the girl's restroom of Wolfram and Hart (sixth floor). And what she saw horrified her.
No wonder Spike was using my age as an excuse for us not to go out. Look at me! I'm a disaster, Lizzy couldn't help but think when she saw the enormous yellow-blue-red bruise on her forehead. And her hair was all frizzed out. And her mascara was running. She looked like a train wreck. A train wreck that had been picked up by a tornado and dropped in a garbage dump.
"Oh my god," she finally said, the horror of her own appearance coming through in her voice.
"It's not that bad," Harmony said encouragingly. After a moment: "Okay, yes, it is. But it's all fixable with a little makeup." With that she pulled a HUGE cosmetics kit out of her purse.
Lizzy's eyebrows went up. "You call that a little makeup?"
"Oh please," Harmony responded. "I have at least five times this much at home."
"My friend Audrey would hate you in a heartbeat. She has this weird prejudice against makeup. Says its superficial."
"It's not about hiding anything. It's about making you feel better about yourself, which makes you more attractive. Confidence. It's the ultimate accessory. After shoes."
"I'll have to tell her that."
Harmony proceeded to slather about ten pounds of concealer and foundation onto Lizzy's face. She then applied charcoal eyeliner around her eyes, and she redid Lizzy's mascara. A little blush and a little lip gloss finished the process.
"There," the vampire said, smiling at her work. "I am a miracle-worker."
Lizzy glanced in the mirror. The bruise was mostly covered up, her mascara was fixed, and her face looked much better. But she wouldn't exactly call it a miracle. However, at least she'd look something other than completely terrifying in the presence of Spike.
"Um, do you have a hairbrush?" Lizzy asked.
"Of course! Your hair! How could I be so careless?" Harmony dug a brush out of her bag and handed it to Lizzy. "Here you go, um–what's your name?"
"Lizzy."
"Oh, well, here you go, Lizzy."
As she attempted to brush through the bird nest that was her hair, Lizzy asked, "So, um, Harmony. You used to date Spike, right?"
Harmony peered at her from behind a compact mirror which she was apparently using to do a touch-up. "Ye-e-s," she replied hesitantly. "Why?"
"Well," Lizzy began nervously. "What's it like, actually dating him?"
The elder blonde smiled knowingly. "Oh, I get it. You've got a crush on him. Well, first off, he's too old for you. But I have to say I can't blame you. He's very yummy. " Lizzy blushed. "But as for dating him, it sucks. He tended to neglect me. But I think that's just because he didn't really love me, you know?"
"Yeah. I know."
"Well," Harmony said. "We better get you back to Angel's office."
So they headed back, Harmony happy to have done someone a favor, Lizzy more secure in the thought of Spike seeing her. As soon as the entered through the office doors, Angel and Spike suddenly went very quiet. They were talking about me. Or Harmony. But probably me.
"What?" Lizzy asked, looking from Angel to Spike, suddenly realizing that she was surrounded by vampires. Good vampires, yes, but vampires all the same. Her heart sped up with fear, and she tried desperately to breathe. She couldn't make herself take in any oxygen.
"Are you all right?" asked Spike.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to force something, anything out of her mouth. Finally, she managed to nod in the affirmative.
Harmony said, "Are you sure? You look really pale beneath all that makeup."
"Fine," she grunted. Calm down, she thought. Angel and Spike both have souls. And Harmony would be so fired if she tried to kill me. It's okay. Wesley and Gunn and Fred–before she died–have been alone in the presence of these three vampires many times, and have never died. Besides, she reminded herself, this is just a dream. Right?
Angel gave her a peculiar look, but he said nothing to her and turned back to Spike. "If you're gonna do this, solve this alleged kidnaping, you need to do it quick," he said, trying to keep his voice low. But she could still hear him. "You need to start tonight. Take her back out there, to where you found her, and start form the beginning. Trace back her steps, talk about her visions, whatever. We need a good start by tomorrow."
Spike glared at Angel for a moment, obviously a little cheesed off that he was being such a dill hole, but he said, "Okay. Fine." Then, turning to Lizzy, he said, "Come on, little girl. Let's head out." Than, as an afterthought, he said, "But we best give you somethin' to fight with, in case the situation arises."
He walked behind Angel's desk and opened the weapons cabinet. A glimmering dagger caught his attention, and a minute later, it was in Lizzy's hands, and the two were waiting for the elevator to begin moving down.
"Now be careful with that thing," warned the Brit. "It's dangerous, okay? It's all fun and games until you stab yourself with a dagger."
"Um..."
"And, for the love of God, keep it in the bloody sheath unless it needs to be out."
"Um..."
"And if we do run into anything dangerous, let me handle it, please. Unless I'm helpless, which, let's face it, is very unlikely, don't start hacking away at anything. Or if your in immediate danger and I can't get to you. Then its okay."
"Um..."
"Yes?"
"Well, I was just wondering, you know, what's it like to be a real hero? To make a difference?"
He blinked at her in surprise. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, I'll tell you that much. I lost the lady I love because I was a hero. So did Angel. It happens to be the same woman, but that's a whole 'nother story. And Angel's friend, I can't remember his name, he was a hero, and he died, and that made everyone miserable and miss him. Bein' a hero's not so great."
"So why do you do it?"
There was a ding, and the elevator opened to the first floor. "Come on, little girl. It's time to go," he said, his voice tight. But just before they stepped out of the elevator, she caught his eye. And sparkling in one was a tear.
The Coat And The Ruby Slippers
"So what's it like, having a vision?" Spike asked curiously.
Lizzy shrugged, though he didn't really notice in the dark of the night. "It's...hard to explain. I don't really know. Whenever I have one, it's like I lose touch with reality, with myself. I can't feel much of anything. And I get a message from...whatever. Not with pictures, so much. It's just there, in my head, like a letter from the Powers That Be."
"Oh. So it doesn't hurt?"
She sighed. "No. It doesn't hurt." She was getting sick of lying to him like this. She didn't have visions, she wasn't being stalked by demons, her parents hadn't been kidnaped. None of it was true. But she couldn't explain to him that this was just a dream...
...Because she didn't really know if it was.
Everything was so real. If it was a dream, it was an elaborate dream, a dream that made sense, that was consistent with real life. Or at least the real life of the televisions show Angel.
Besides, if it was a dream, a dream that Lizzy was controlling herself, would Spike keep telling her that he was too old for her, keep calling her "Little Girl"? She doubted it.
But if it wasn't a dream, than what was it? An alternate universe? Was that brick wall a portal of some sort?
She didn't know, and she didn't want to think about it. So she turned her attention back to Spike.
"Listen, Lizzy," he said.
"Yeah?"
"I just want you to know that even though Angel won't help, and even though he wants to rush this case along, I'm going to try to solve it, no matter how long it takes. Because I think I know the answer to your question. About why I try to be a hero, why I sacrifice as much as I do. It's because of people like you. Innocent, not asking for trouble, and then these horrible things happen to you. Awful things. Awful things like the things I did when I was evil."
Lizzy blinked back tears. She couldn't go on lying like this. Not to him.
"Spike," she began.
"What? I sound like a ponce, don't I?"
"No," she said. "I think that's wonderful that you want to make amends, that you want to atone. You should. But those evil things you did, it wasn't you. It was a demon, a demon that had control of your body. Not William."
"But it was me. I am Spike, I am William, I am the vampire, and I am the soul. I am all of those things."
"Well, maybe you'll do a better job of making amends than Angel has. He sold out. He signed a contract with the devil. Don't do the same thing."
"I..."
She took a deep breath. "But, I have to tell you something. I'm not...the person you think I am. I'm not a psychic, I'm not anything. I can't tell you how I know what I do about you, but I'm not evil. I'm just a regular girl from Nebraska. And all I want to do is go home." She was crying now. "I miss my parents, who haven't been kidnaped, and my friends, especially Molly, because she's the coolest, and I miss riding horses, and I've only been gone a while, but this place is just so different, and I want to go home!"
"You're not a psychic?"
"No. But when you go back, don't tell Angel or Wesley or Harmony. Especially Wesley. He needs some peace of mind. Just tell them you solved the case. You found my parents, and I went home. I won't bother you anymore. I'll try to find my own way back."
He stared at her for a while and said nothing. It felt as if he had been looking at her with that steely gaze for what seemed like hours. Finally, he said, "Okay. Can I help you get home?"
"I don't know what–" She stopped suddenly as she caught sight of his coat. And the idea popped in her head almost instantly. "I think that, to go home, I need your coat."
"My–?"
"Your coat."
"But, why? This is my coat. I mean, I love this coat."
She sighed. Well, I already sound like a crazy person. I might as well explain my idea. "I think it's like the ruby slippers."
"Huh?"
"From the Wizard of Oz? You know, the ruby slippers that Dorothy wore? I think...I think that the coat is my version of the ruby slippers."
He looked confused. Confusion was a cute look on him. "Why would my coat be your ruby slippers?"
"It's a long story. But please? I'm not even sure if this will work."
He took off his coat and looked at it. It had been with him so long. It had been with him when Buffy had been with him. It had been with him when Drusilla had been with him. It had been with him before he had a soul.
But he was starting over, right? Turning a new leaf. And maybe getting rid of his coat was just the way to start. Besides, if her half-baked scheme didn't work, he'd still have it.
So he handed the black leather coat over to her grudgingly. "Just, if it works, this whole ruby slipper thing," he said. "Please, take care of the coat."
She slipped it on and smiled at him. "Of course."
"You know, Little Girl, you're not so bad."
She didn't protest to the nickname. Closing her eyes, she said, trying not to giggle, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home."
Spike watched her act like a poor imitation of Judy Garland and couldn't help but laugh. There was brilliant white flash, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened them again, she was gone. He whispered to the air, "Goodbye, Little Girl. Goodbye, Lizzy. Goodbye, Coat."
Epilogue–The Coat In The Closet
"There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like..." Lizzy was murmuring in her sleep.
Suddenly, a blaring noise caused the girl to sit straight up. Bleary-eyed, Lizzy looked over and saw her alarm clock beeping, the time flashing 6:30. "Ugh," she mumbled incoherently. "School."
She hit the snooze button, but she couldn't get back to sleep. So she took the opportunity to think about her dream. She remembered it perfectly. From the way Spike had looked to the way her bruise had felt to the way Wesley had had that tear glistening in his eye when she told him about her "vision" of Fred. All of it she remembered. Every word spoken. Every glance Angel and Spike had exchanged. Every lie she had told.
"I'll never have a good dream like that again," she muttered.
That's when she noticed her mother standing in the doorway.
"Yeah, Mom, what?" she asked.
"Are you all right? Do you remember what happened?"
"What happened?"
"You walked into a brick wall, dear. You were knocked unconscious. Luckily, my friend, Anne, noticed you and called me immediately. You've been out since."
Lizzy sighed. "Oh yeah. Ow."
"Are you up to going to school, because you don't have to? I'll call and say you're sick, if you'd like."
Groggily, Lizzy nodded and rolled over.
"Do I need to take you to the hospital? I was going to yesterday, but Anne said you were fine. Just a little bump. And then you did wake up once, and you were just probably so tired, and you went back to sleep."
"No, Mom. I'm fine."
"Well, then, let's go to breakfast at Village Inn, okay? It'll be fun."
Lizzy stumbled out of bed and staggered over to her closet. She grabbed at the first thing she could and pulled it off the hanger.
And then she looked at what she had in her hands.
A leather coat, long and black and beautiful. So cool, so unbelievable, so...
It wasn't a dream. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't a dream. Tears of happiness welled up in her eyes.
With a smile on her face, she slipped the coat on and yelled, "Mom! I think I will go to school today."