Chapter 3: As Sure as the Dawn


Allison dug in her purse, looking for her pen, frustration building with every second. She knew for a fact that she'd packed two new ones just yesterday. How had she already managed to lose them? Sighing, she paused in her search, but didn't look up, refusing to ask Scott for a replacement or take part in the tension between Lydia and Stiles. The two had been bickering all day, in part because Stiles had commented that Lydia didn't look as if she'd been sleeping well. And, Lydia, being Lydia, had taken great offense. Allison was almost certain the two were actually still fighting over their conversation the previous day about the new principal. Allison would have found it funny, in a different context.

Instead of laughing, though, she was burying herself in her purse, avoiding her friends.

A hush fell over the class, and Allison wanted to curse under her breath. Of course, the one day the new English teacher was actually on time...

" 'Yet each man kills the thing he loves'," her teacher began, breaking the quiet.

" 'By each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss
The brave man with a sword
'"

Allison smiled in triumph when her fingers wrapped around a thin metal cylinder at the bottom of the bag. When she pulled it free, the expression slipped off her face. It wasn't a pen; it was the broken shaft of an arrow, its tail missing but its metal tip still attached and covered in old blood. Her hand trembled.

"Are you paying attention, Allison?"

Allison's eyes shot up in panic, and they stayed wide and frightened, long after the arrow dropped from her hand. Her mother looked lovely, that was her first thought. Her mother was still beautiful, her red hair styled fashionably, her eyes glinting, her cheeks rosy. She was wearing a navy skirt and the peach-colored sweater Allison had picked out for her last Spring, and sitting on the edge of the teacher's desk as if she'd always been there. And she was alive.

Allison wanted to speak, but the words stayed put, cutting off her airway.

"Allison," her mother said, "could you tell the class what Wilde meant when he said 'each wolf kills the thing he loves'?" She cocked her head, smirking. "Does he do it with a kiss? A sword? No...I'd wager he uses his teeth. Wouldn't you?"

Tiny crimson stains blossomed on the peach sweater, growing larger by the second until blood was welling up in great tears that flowed over the fabric and splattered on the floor.

Allison felt a hand wrap around her wrist. Startled, she blinked, and her mother was gone. The front desk was empty, the classroom still full of the muffled chatter of unattended students. She barely registered the pen rolling on the floor at her shoes or Lydia's hand still on hers.

"Allison?"

That was Scott's voice. It was too much. She pulled away from Lydia and slid out of her desk in a rush. She pushed past her teacher on her way out the door. If anyone commented, she didn't hear it. The bell rang before she even stepped into the emptying corridor, but she barely heard it over the thud of her own heartbeat.

Somehow the air felt clearer here. She could breath. She leaned against a row of lockers a moment, calming down, then groaned to herself. Not even a week into school, and she was tardy. No, she mentally corrected, she was absent, because there was no way she was walking back into that room today.

"Scott," she whispered, knowing he'd hear her, "tell Lydia I'm fine. I just...I just wasn't feeling well. I'm going to spend the period in the library, okay? Don't come looking for me."

Allison's knuckles were white against the strap of her bag as she walked down the hallway. It had been a day dream. A hallucination. A manifestation of guilt. She knew as much, but every corner she turned, she expected to find a real threat. Instead, she found boxes. Hyper awareness was all that kept her from tumbling over a small wooden crate blocking her path into the library.

"Oh, sorry!"

The apology appeared to come from a stack of cardboard boxes. A woman stepped out from behind them, attempting to juggle a laptop case and a small wooden crate. She smiled brightly at Allison, something infectious in her grin, and the girl returned a dimpled one of her own.

"I swear, this was supposed to be moved before classes started today. Well, I mean, I don't swear, here at least, because, hello, faculty and all." The woman paused, balancing the crate on her hip long enough to give a short wave. "Hi. New librarian who talks too much here."

"Ms. Summers, right? Need a hand?" Allison asked.

The woman made a face. "Aren't you late for class?"

Allison opened and closed her mouth.

Ms. Summers snorted, amused. "Save the excuse. I know a ditch when I see one. Here's the deal. My helper was called away to clean up freshman vomit, so, if you help me move these boxes, I'll write an excuse for the office." She frowned slightly. "Wait...librarians are allowed to do that, right? Sure...why not? And it's not like Principal Wood would say no to me. I know all his secrets."

Allison raised a brow, but Ms. Summers only shrugged. "Chop, chop," the woman urged, backing through the library doors.

Allison stood in place a moment longer, wrapping her mind around what had just transpired, then bent down to pick up a hefty box and follow the librarian inside. Ms. Summers had already disappeared into the private office behind the counter. She popped her head out, her long, light brown ponytail hanging over her shoulder.

"Put them on the lower counter, please. We can unpack them there," she instructed, disappearing again.

Allison hesitated a moment before stepping behind the check-out area and putting the box down. She tugged at the tucked-in folds of the cardboard box until it popped open but was unsure if Ms. Summers wanted her to start pulling items out. Before she could think too much about it, she found herself distracted by the book sitting on top. It looked like it was probably the heaviest item inside, at least four inches thick, leather, and beautifully detailed. Emblazed across the face was the title, VAMPYR.

Allison took a step back, nearly jumping when she felt a presence at her shoulder. Ms. Summers was smiling softly. "Figures you'd find that old thing," she said. "My mistake. Those items go in my office, not out here." But the woman sounded as if she wanted to laugh. "I'll get this one if you'll bring in the rest from the hallway."

Allison didn't get the joke.

"Vampyr?" Allison asked.

"Oh!" Ms. Summers' eyes widened slightly, as if she'd just remembered something. "I suppose I should let you know I'm a mythology major, too. I like to keep my favorite texts with me when I travel. You're welcome to look through my private collection any time you'd like, though."

"Uh, thanks?"

Ms. Summers chuckled before shooing her back to the hallway. Allison dumped her own bag on a study table and decided to embrace the challenge, carrying the heavy boxes in one at a time. Ms. Summers joined her after a few minutes, humming happily as she worked when she wasn't making comments about the dire state of her office. Allison bit down a laugh; this had to be the loudest librarian she'd ever met. The task was over quickly enough, the stack of boxes on the counter not looking nearly so large as they'd appeared scattered in the hallway. Allison took a moment to look out at the library. Other than a teacher who was tutting to himself in the reference section, they were otherwise alone this early in the day. She pulled her cell free and typed in a text message.

"What's next, Ms. Summers?" Allison asked, quickly hiding her phone away when she noticed eyes were on her.

The woman sighed to herself, and Allison had a feeling she enjoyed the light-hearted dramatics. "Well, other than the office being a total wasteland and in need of, well, everything...I have some materials I need to log into the system, some cleaning to do, posters to hang and posters to take down (since LOLcats have eliminated the need for Bad Hair Day Cat), and I'm not sure anyone actually cleaned this place over the summer...Really, the list of what-not-to-do is shorter: don't put up that stack of books on the cart because I'm saving it for this kid who has detention this afternoon. My first victim."

Allison bit her lip to stop herself from commenting that she'd just texted that very 'kid'. "So, office before stacks?" she said, instead.

Ms. Summers snapped her fingers in agreement. "Yes. Because I need to prepare my hide-out for its intended use before the other library helper, old Mrs. Brackett who stores her ugly sweaters with the abandoned microfiche, comes back with all her questions about my life choices. Good thinking, Allison."

Allison's brow furrowed. Had she actually told the librarian her name? She couldn't remember introductions going quite so smoothly.

"You know," Ms. Summers began, giving the boxes a look-over, "being new, I don't have a soul signed up to work as a student library aid. You don't happen to have a free period do you?"

"Well, I-"

"Awesome!" The librarian clapped her hands once, then, seeming to realize where she was, she quieted down. "That's great. I'll inform the office. However, there is one stipulation. If you're going to work in the library, you'll have to call me Dawn. Deal?"

Allison blinked, unsure of how she'd found herself volunteering to work in the library. She replayed the conversation in her head. Nope, she really hadn't agreed to that... She gave the line of study tables a look. The kanima attack here didn't exactly provide the best memories, but there were worse places to be stuck, and she could probably get some studying done during the hour.

"Deal," Allison finally replied.


The thick, musty scent of earth surrounded him and in that moment he was there, back in his shallow grave. He woke with a start, gasping into the dirt before lifting his head and realizing he wasn't inside the grave, but laying on one. Peter scrambled up, tripping backward as his foot caught the edge of a footstone and he found himself on his backside, staring up at the midday sun. He blinked up at it, disoriented. The last thing he remembered was paying an unwelcome visit to Cora and Derek, furious when he left.

"Why do you look so surprised?"

That voice. His heart thudded at a deafening speed as he recognized that voice.

She stepped into view, still in her jeans and jacket, like she had been that night, but she didn't so much as look his way as she spoke. Her long brown hair covered most of her face, and he didn't want her to turn. He desperately wanted to never see her face again.

"The dead always return here, especially the ones who don't have graves of their own. You're just another one of us wandering spirits, Uncle Peter."

Peter wanted to push himself up, to run, but he couldn't. He steadied his voice and it came out hard. "You're not real," he said, sounding almost annoyed. "You're dead."

"So are you," she reminded, happily. "But we're both very real. Even if I only exist inside your head, I'm still real, aren't I? I'm a part of you...That's what happens when you take an Alpha's spark with force. That piece of them stays with you forever...You should have read the small print." She paused beside a gravestone, her head cocked as if she were reading it. "Don't you feel me with you, Uncle Peter? Every day, don't you feel me, don't you hear me screaming inside you, don't you taste my blood on your lips every time you eat the food of the living? You can't hide these things from yourself."

Peter's whole body trembled at the thought. Even though it was a warm summer day, he felt chilled to the bone. Laura...he regretted what had happened to Laura. He could reason with himself, explain away his actions, tell himself it was her own fault for abandoning him. But he still regretted it, feared her, that very part of her she just described-that betraying spark of power. But this...this wasn't Laura.

"How did you get me here?" Peter asked, honestly curious.

She chuckled. The laugh struck at something inside him, a longing he'd cast aside. He'd forgotten that Laura's laugh sounded just like Talia's. When he and his sister had been children, before pack rank changed them, it used to be so easy for him to make her laugh.

"I've already told you," she said. "You came on your own. This is where the dead want to be. Don't you want to be at rest, Uncle Peter?"

He scrambled up to his feet, a snarl on his face. The niggling guilt in his stomach disappeared, replaced by hot rage. "I don't know what you are, but I will kill you for - "

In the space of a blink, she was there, in front of him, her face inches from his. "I'm the niece you killed," she said, softly, almost kindly. "Silly Uncle, I'm the one you murdered."

"No." He swallowed hard on the word. "This is a trick."

"You've told them all you're 'better', but are you really? Are you really in control?" She smiled. "I think we know the real answer to that, don't we? How could you possibly be stable when you never finished what you set out to do?"

"What I set out to do?"

"Kill them. The hunters. All of them."


When she was a teenager, Dawn never imagined she would turn into Giles, but some people just followed in their father-figure's footsteps, despite all intentions. Dawn didn't mind. There were worse paths to choose.

Dawn leaned against the wall, one arm crossed over her waist, watching the tikes walk-don't-run past. Okay, maybe "tikes" was pushing it, considering it was a high school and she'd barely crossed the mid-twenties line herself, but she felt older than her years, watching these teens laugh and joke and nosedive into a sea of hormones. It occurred to Dawn that this had to be what Buffy had felt like, right after the fall of Sunnydale, when they were gathering the slayers, schooling them, giving them a place to belong, and Buffy was watching over them, assuring them there was hope to be found, mixed in with all their fears and doubts. Lying to them when she said it was going to be okay.

It wasn't okay. Not for all of them. Not for most of them.

Dawn forced her frown away, smiling at a passing student who nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to return the greeting. She reminded herself that it was different for these kids. They were, the majority of them at least, normal. And they weren't at war with beings that were trying to wipe them out. They wouldn't find themselves decimated, their numbers trimmed to a measly hundred within a decade's time...

"No touchy feely," she reminded a couple.

This. This was good. Hall duty was nice and boring. Dawn told herself she should be enjoying the break. She'd done this before, a few years back, put on her Giles pants and ignored her doctorate to take on a high school librarian job to infiltrate a school filled with teachers who were slowly draining the life force from their students. Business as usual. That time, though, she'd had slayers in the classroom, the Council at her call, and it had required less lying to the people she still cared about.

"Ms. Summers."

Dawn looked up, a shit-eating grin on her face when confronted with Robin's severe expression. So, he was still annoyed with her for, well, existing.

"My office, please," he said, then turned without a second glance, heading back through the scattering crowd.

Dawn followed, smile still on her face when she slipped into his office behind him, shutting the door. "Your secretary is totally going to talk if we keep this up," she noted. "But then, sexy gossip is the best gossip."

Robin sighed. "I'm going to assume you haven't changed your mind about leaving."

"Oh, please." Dawn rolled her eyes. "If you honestly thought I might leave, you would haven't have sent me that file of 'troubled students'."

The man's cheek twitched, as if he were biting down a small smile. "I sent that file so that there wouldn't be any messy mistakes made if any of the girls followed you into town. By the way, we're free to talk in here."

"Willow's basic noise distortion ward?"

Robin tilted his head toward the door. "Activates when that door closes. Useful when there are students with advanced hearing in the hallways. Since you brought up the file...any thoughts?"

Dawn's brow furrowed. "Well, there are probably even more kids involved in the supernatural than you have on that list, but it's pretty impressive... You really got all that information through videos and files the previous principal left behind?"

"I don't think he left it willingly." Robin sat down behind his desk, leaning back. "In fact, the man seems to have just disappeared, but his family hasn't reported him missing. Frankly, the more I found out about his history, the less interested I am in finding him. Turns our Principal Argent was a hunter of the worse kind. Had a bad reputation for using any means to get his way."

"Argent?" Dawn asked.

"You recognize the name? I didn't at first...until I discovered his unusual past time and remembered the famed 'Silver' family from that debacle in France a few years ago. Their specialty is werewolves." Robin's gaze narrowed. Dawn thought she saw suspicion on his face, but it was gone a moment later. "From what I can gather, this town was a base for the hunters once. Two of them still live here."

"One of them roaming the halls," Dawn noted. "You picked a swell place for a vacation from the supernatural, Robin."

Robin glared at her. "Is that why you're here? To get me to leave?"

"Because you lied to people who care about you and said you needed downtime, when you were really called out here by an old friend to meddle with an outdated treaty?" Dawn asked. She shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"That's not fair." Robin didn't sound overly concerned about it. "Does the rest of the council know?"

"About the meddling? Nope." Dawn took a breath and considered bringing up Xander's phone call. "They'll be suspicious once they realize I've relocated to lovely Beacon Hills as well. But, hey, I'm not here to play in your sandbox, so you keep your mysterious motivations, and I'll keep mine."

"For your information, I'm staying out of this as much as possible. I'm here to observe unless action becomes necessary."

"Action that's against the treaty..." Dawn reminded.

"The treaty, what's left of it, concerns the Council. The old Council. Not ours. And I'm not officially with the Council. I'm on leave, remember?"

Dawn winked at him. "Way to avoid a war, smarty pants. Well, if that's all for the moment, I've actually got work to do. Librarians are like toys; they do all their moving around when no one is watching."

Robin stopped her before she could open the door. "There is one thing I need to know, since you won't tell me what you're actually doing here. Are the kids in danger?"

Dawn huffed out an unamused laugh. "You know, once upon a time, you might have asked if the kids 'are' a danger. I'm glad you've changed, Robin...Right now, you know what I know about them. I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

She slipped out the door before he could ask another question and nearly ran straight into Scott McCall, who was standing at the secretary's desk, trying to get the woman's attention.

"My teacher said Principal Wood wanted to speak with me?"

Dawn snorted to herself, drawing the teenager's confused gaze. The teen probably didn't even know who she was, but she certainly recognized him. According to the files, he was the big wolf on campus. Dawn almost burst a lung holding in that joke. She waved off his puppy-dog stare and walked out of the office before she said something regrettable.

"So much for staying out of it, Robin," she muttered to herself, wondering what excuse Robin had for forcing a meeting with the kid. Thankfully, Allison Argent had been kind enough to just show up at the right time. It made her life easier.

Which, that reminded her...she had a detention with someone who she'd bet was a master of wrong-time wrong-place, a Mr. Stilinski.