The phone rang once.
The phone rang twice.
Midway through the third ring, it picked up and an older woman with a bubbly voice spoke.
"Hi, this is Samantha Lowell of Lowell Real Estate, how can I help you?"
"Hi, Mrs. Lowell, it's Dawn...Dawn Summers."
"Dawn? Oh my goodness, how are you? Wait, don't tell me, are you guys thinking about selling the place?"
"Oh, no I-"
"-because let me tell you, I wouldn't be able to take it. After what happened to Joyce, bless her soul, I'd want to sell my house immediately. I can get you an excel-"
"-We're not trying to sell the house, Mrs. Lowell."
"Ah, I see, terribly sorry. I just get carried away. My job is my passion and all, you know? They say if you love your job-"
"-Mrs. Lowell-"
"-then you never work a day in your life. Have you found something you're passionate about yet, Dawn? I know young people like to wait 'till college to 'find themselves' but the sooner you-"
"Mrs. Lowell."
"Oh, sorry, dear. What is it?"
"I was just wondering if you can help me out with something-"
"-Why of course, dearie! Anything you need, just name it!"
"...Well I found this textbook at school that belongs to another student. He seems to have lost it and I-"
"-Oh my. Terribly expensive things, textbooks, even for a public school like yours. But at least in highschool they're given to you. When college comes around, watch out! Hahaha! I don't know if you remember, but my Richie got into Harvard. The bill for his books is always so-"
"-yes, I remember, Mrs. Lowell. Anyway, I was trying to see if I could maybe get this kid his book back, ya know?"
"That's very thoughtful of you, dearie. But what makes you think I can help?"
"Well I recognize the name in the book, Clark Kent. He just moved here over the summer, and since mom always said you were like, the biggest real estate agent in Sunnydale-"
"-bless her poor heart. Joyce was always so sweet. Such a tragedy, what happened to her. I remember the first time I met her, showing her your house, and she blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blahblahblah blah blahblah blahblahblahblahblah blah blah-"
"-right, yeah. I think I've heard that story. Fun Times. So, listen, I was wondering if maybe you sold them their house, and if you could give me the address so I can bring it to him?"
"...oh...oh, my dear, I'm afraid not. While I did sell them their house, lovely couple, charming young man, their son, excellent manners...I can't just give away someone's address like that. Why don't you simply give him the book at school."
"Um...well, it's the weekend and...the textbook is for a class that we have together. Yes, and we have a quiz on monday, so he'll need it to study."
"Ah, I see...even so, I'm still not exactly comfortable giving you someone else's address. It's not exactly professional."
"...I see, thanks anyway, Mrs. Lowell."
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help you, dear. If there were anything else I could-"
"-actually, now that you mention it...I remembered earlier that sometime last year my mom bought this thing, it was like a juicer or something? I barely remember it, we hardly ever used it. It was like, some expensive, top of the line craziness that totally looked like some elaborate torture device. But all high-tech and stuff. I was looking for it the other day and I can't seem to find it. I remember she loaned it to you, do you still have it?"
Silence on the line.
"Mrs. Lowell?"
"...um, no I'm afraid I don't have it. I gave it back a while ago."
"Really? Are you sure you don't still have it around."
"Yeah, I'm positive-"
"-cause I can't seem to find it, and I know my mom lent it to you for some picnic you were having-"
"-I'm sorry Dawn, I really need to go-"
"-oh, well do you mind if I come by your place and look for it?"
"Oh, no that really won't be necessary. I'll do that."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly trouble you. You and my mom were close, right? I'm sure it'll be fine-"
"-no, Dawn, really. I'll look for it. Tell you what, this whole thing where I couldn't help you is just breaking my heart. Let me give you the Kent's address and you can get that poor boy his textbook so he can study."
"Thank you, Mrs. Lowell."
"Of course, sweetie. Anything for Joyce's little girl."
Mrs. Lowell gave her the address, and Dawn clicked the cordless off.
Phase 1 complete, Dawn thought to herself, grinning in her room. It was obvious to her that she was some kind of evil genius.
Phase two…
Dawn looked down at her pink backpack. Her school stuff had been scooped out and dumped on her vanity. That backpack was now a "Sunnydale Survivalist Toolkit". All the classics were in there. Stakes, crosses, holy water, all things found naturally foraging in and around the Summer's house. With that, she should be ready for whatever might come after her that night while she kept an eye on Clark Kent's house.
Dawn bit her lip. Was this really a great idea? Normally, this was when she'd get Buffy. Buffy wasn't around…but if she were?
What would Buffy do?
I've been watching episodes of 'Law and Order: Scooby Gang Unit' since I was a baby-child. I'm sure I can figure out what to do, she thought.
The first thing Buffy did was assemble the Scooby Gang, and start doing research.
That might not be the best idea. She remembered the cyclone of emotions that had only now started to die down in her.
If she went to the gang with this, and it turned out to be nothing…wouldn't they be crushed? Could she put their hearts through the ringer on some insane suspicion and the word of some kid who none of them knew and who had just moved to Sunnydale?
And if it did turn out to be nothing, how would they ever forgive her?
Dawn's stomach was knotting itself with nerves at nothing more than the thought of their accusing, disapproving, disappointed stares.
Okay, so she couldn't go to them for help…but there wasn't anyone else she could go to.
Lisa? Melinda? Sharon? Janice?
As if.
All her other friends were muggles.
That just left her. But she'd watched Buffy and the gang before, despite their attempts to keep her out of it. She could do this. She had to prove that. To herself, maybe to others.
Once I find out if it's legit or not, then I'll totally tell the Gang.
Dawn checked the contents of the bag for what seemed like the billionth time. Everything was still there, but was she forgetting anything?
I'm probably just being paranoid. Dawn zipped the bag back up and nodded.
Phase two complete.
Time for phase three.
But phase three was a doosie. If she'd had more time to prepare, maybe she could have pretended to be spending the night at Janice's. She could've called Janice, asked for some cover. But there wasn't any time for that now. So she had no choice but to sneak out.
Night was falling, which meant soon the Scoobies would be going to one of their mysterious meetings that they'd been having since a few weeks after Buffy died. Which meant they'd be leaving her with Spike.
So, how do you sneak off at night when your babysitter is a creature of darkness?
Later that night, Spike finally made his appearance.
"Hello, 'bit." He swayed in through the front door.
"Hey."
"Did you do something new with your hair?"
"Nope, it just looks different through the beer goggles."
Spike managed to make his way to the couch. "Just give me a bit, I'll sober up right quick."
You're fine like this too.
"Rough night?" Dawn asked, taking a seat on a recliner across from him.
He laughed. "Just crashed a wedding...well, call it a wedding. Bloody weird critters, the S'nths's demons. Most things bump uglies to make more little things, but not them. Used to be billions of them, I hear. Now there's barely a hundred. They merge together, see. Two literally becoming one."
"Really? That's weird. So, what happens when there's only one left?"
"According to them, that one will be the prophesied destroyer or some rubbish who'll plunge the world into eternal darkness. Nutters, the lot of them. But they can throw a party."
Dawn arched an eyebrow. "How do vampires get drunk anyway? Doesn't that require circulation."
Spike shrugged. "Do I look like Charles Bloody Darwin? I'm just glad we can."
Spike's eyes stumbled around the room, then stopped on the mantle over the fireplace. Dawn followed his line of sight. Right next to a plastic wrapped phone-book was a photo.
The frame was covered in seashells. Dawn had glued them there herself. It had been a birthday present for Buffy, and she hadn't wanted to bother with a real gift. The picture was the two of them on a beach, smiling brightly in the sun.
Dawn turned away. Spike stared at it, but Dawn could tell it was hurting him, like a burning coal in his eyes.
"Spike," she said.
"Hmm?"
"Get on up, come on. Let's go to the kitchen."
"Just a 'mo."
"Nope, c'mon, right now." Dawn got out of her seat and walked over. She grabbed spike by the arm and hauled him up. He kept turning to stare at the photo until they left the living room behind.
Dawn plopped him down on a stool in front of the island in the center of the kitchen. "I'd offer you something to eat, but…"
"No worries, luv. I'll be fine."
Dawn checked the clock that hung over the fridge. She wanted to get going as soon as she could, but Spike a) didn't sleep at night, and b) was kind of a mess.
That happened some times, but Dawn wasn't sure what he'd do if she just left him here. An idea stirred. Dawn had seen Spike get blackout drunk before. If she could get him to do it again, she could sneak out.
Her stomach knotted with guilt. That was kind of a low blow, taking advantage of Spike's pain like that.
No, it'll be fine. I'll be back before he wakes up and he'll never even need to know. Besides, the state he's in, it'll probably be better for him if he spends the next few hours in coma-land.
She even almost sounded convincing.
"So," she said, "what do you wanna do? Poker?"
Spike shrugged, half slumped over. "Sure, why not?"
"But how about we make it interesting? I'm tired of playing for pennies. Let's make it a drinking game?"
Spike snorted. "Funny. No way am I letting you anywhere near the liquor, nibblet."
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. Obviously I can't drink alcohol."
"Oh, what, so it's just me getting all impaired like? Trying to fleece old Spike? Try again in another hundred years, pet."
"Well, no, I can't take shots or anything. But…" Dawn wandered over to the fridge , opened the door, and looked through it.
Aha, that'll do.
She pulled the small yellow bottle out of the fridge, wandered back over to the table and plopped it down in front of Spike.
He snatched it up and squinted at the label. "Pure Pressed Lemon Juice? Really?"
"Yup."
Spike chuckled and sat up. "Fine then, little 'bit wants to act all woman-like. It'll be worth it just to see your face."
Dawn went and got him a bottle of some dark amber liquor. Dawn didn't know what it was, but it was basically untouched. The only person she'd ever seen drink it was Giles sometimes.
"That's 'coz the kiddies can't handle anything harder than beer unless it's also glowing like bloody neon signs and ninety percent fruity candy bollocks." or so Spike told her.
Dawn lost the first hand, so she poured the lemon juice into the shot glass Willow and Tara thought they kept "hidden" in the back of the cupboard.
Dawn tossed the glass back and immediately her face twisted and spasmed as she coughed.
"Bleghh."
This was a terrible idea.
They kept playing. It wasn't long before Dawn couldn't take it and had to start washing her shots down with water.
"You're gonna hafta piss like the bloody Niagara in a few."
"Thanks, Spike, real classy. And I'll be fine. You look like you're about to drop."
Spike snorted. "Please, the night Spike get's drunkeneded under a table by some little girl is the night that...some other unlikely thing also happens. Even though you ain't drinking...I'll still wreck you."
Dawn snorted. "We'll just see about that."
Spike lost another hand and his fingers closed around his glass. He stared deeply into the liquid amber gem shimmering by the fluorescent kitchen light above them.
"I'm failing." He said.
Dawn looked up from her cards. "What?"
"I'm failing her...again. I promised. She made me promise...I said I'd look after you, keep you safe. I didn't, I couldn't and she-" Spike's eyes squeezed shut as he choked on his words.
Dawn couldn't look at him.
"And now," he continued, "and now I'm doing it again. I'm supposed to be looking after you, but here I am, getting lit. Getting into fights every night. I just don't know how long I can go on. The air in the world is stale and bitter since she left it. Only reason I'm still here is, even if I ended it, I still wouldn't be with her."
Dawn felt her throat tighten as she stared at the tiles on the tabletop. She blinked, her eyes were getting hot and wet. She grit her teeth.
So, there it was then. She had always guessed, but had never been sure. Given the chance, Spike would leave her behind in a heartbeat to go after Buffy. Maybe that was just to be expected. Dawn tried not to take it personally.
If I thought there was a chance to see her, I might leave them all behind too.
"I hope she's in hell." Spike tossed his drink back and slammed the glass on the table. "Maybe then I'd have a chance to be with her after all."
Dawn swallowed the rock in her throat. "I like you this way."
Spike snorted. "Like 'em drunk and half drooling, do you? You Summers girls always did have bloody awful taste in men."
Dawn lifted her head and stared at him. "No, I'm being serious. You're definitely a wreck, Spike, but at least you're not pretending."
Spike looked up at her. "How do you mean?"
Dawn shrugged and looked away, feeling suddenly tired. "I don't know...it's just, Xander is 'Mr. Work' all the time. He doesn't mention Buffy much. Him and Anya always talk about adult stuff- bills, rent, being a part of the Scooby-gang and going on patrol for goblins, gremlins, and ghouls, oh my.
"Willow and Tara, I love them, but they're always all glowy around each other and me, pretending they're My Two Moms or something. Making me pancakes every day like everything's fine.
"Giles has his whole British, 'stiff upper lip thing going. Running the Magic Box, doing Watcher stuff. I don't know."
No one particularly minds when I'm not around either.
They were always nice to her, but Dawn had been Buffy's shadow her entire life. Maybe now the image of this lone shadow, all it did was conjure painful memories of the woman who cast it.
Did they blame her? Blame her for being here when Buffy was not? Blame her for causing Buffy's death?
Probably, on some level. Dawn certainly did.
"It just feels like...like Buffy died, and everyone just went on with their lives. Sometimes I think you and I are the only people who care she's gone."
"Rubbish," Spike said. "Everybody's feeling it. They're just trying to be strong."
"I know," Dawn said. "I know, but...this can't be good, Spike. This whole 'nothing's changed' front is not good. It is a front. Buffy was the center of all of us, and it's like...with her gone, none of us know who we're supposed to be. So we're all trying to be Buffy. You and everyone else going out to slay…"
Me, stalking some kid who just moved here.
"It'll be fine, pet. The others will get past it."
"The others huh? But not us."
"Not me...but you'll get past it too."
"I don't want to get past it. I don't want to get past Buffy."
Spike tried to speak, but he didn't seem to have any words.
"Sorry," Dawn said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Let's just keep playing, okay?"
"Sure thing."
As they played, Dawn thought.
What if I just told him? I could get him to come along. That'd be safer than going myself. And if Buffy is back, no one else would want to know more than him.
But despite what she'd said, Spike was right. He was a wreck. If she told him, got his hopes up, and it turned out to be nothing...she didn't think he'd survive losing Buffy a second time.
They played a few more hands and Spike finally fell asleep leaning on the table. Dawn got up and got a thick blanket.
She came back to the table and stared at his face for a moment. The corner of his eye was glistening.
Dawn reached out and took his hand, holding it.
It was cold. Of course it was cold.
She let go and threw the blanket over him. She'd be back before sunrise and she'd wake him up.
Dawn splashed herself with cold water to wake up and fetched her kit.
Without Buffy, her whole family was going to shake itself apart, Dawn was sure. And who better to be Buffy than her, the sister?
Dawn gathered her resolution and set off into the night. Onward to Clark Kent's house.
