From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 2)
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:32 PM
CONTINUED FROM PART ONE
Part Two: Lynchpin
The day had gone rather uneventfully for Giles after Willow and Xander
had left. The truck with the new Wicca supplies had been delayed, again, so
Willow had gone home empty-handed. But looking at Willow's mood after their
talk, Giles didn't think she was going to buy anything anyway. Giles had
asked Xander and Willow not to tell anyone else about his eminent departure
until he had confirmed it 100%. Truth was, he didn't want to bring anymore
pain to Dawn than he had to.
They also agreed to have a simple potluck at Giles' place in the
evening. Willow called it the End-of-Summer, Back-to-School,
Let's-Try-Not-To-Go-Crazy party. Xander thought it was as good a title as
any. It was at 6:00pm that Giles closed shop, with Anya explaining to him
that she would try to bring a pie to the dinner if Xander would actually let
her buy one. Giles mostly ignored the comment and headed home.
During the drive back, he couldn't help but think about the point when
everything had starting to fall apart. It hadn't started at Buffy's death,
he reasoned. Joyce's death was probably the real catalyst, though Giles
had to believe that they would have all gotten through it in time. Buffy
wasn't the same after her mother's death, and he wondered if it had
played a part in her sacrifice later. True, she had taken her sister's
place in the portal, giving her life to stop the oncoming destruction,
but she seemed to have done it so... easily. It was as if it was had been
a release for her. Dawn had told him of Buffy's last words, that she
understood and that she was "okay with it." But he didn't think that
he'd ever be okay with it.
The first two weeks after Buffy's death were the worst. The police, the
insomnia, the questions and the pain. They had been a tight group, and none
of them had realized how tight until then. Dawn had taken it stoically for a
time, somewhat numb after losing her mother not long before. It wasn't a
fair universe. She had been alive less than a year, turned from a form of
energy into a young girl by monks as a way of preserving her essence from
Glory's perverse plans, and yet her family had been all but wiped out in
that time. Not a fair universe at all.
The thing was, they were lucky that they had gotten off as... lucky as
they had. After Glory's death, the human victims of Glory's brainsucking
powers were still brainsucked. There was no way to know if the effect
would ever heal itself or wear off. Tara was fortunate that Willow had been
able to reverse it on her before Buffy had at Glory, and before he himself
had ended Glory's existence. And Anya spent several days in the County
Hospital when part of Glory's scaffolding fell on her. Thankfully, her
injuries went minor to moderate. Spike had the worst injuries, but being
undead had its advantages.
As he pulled into his home's driveway, he kept thinking that the
Council's policy against becoming attached to their Slayers had some wisdom
to it. Slayers inevitably had short lives. Even the best had maybe a decade
of life after their "calling." They burned bright, then blew out. The
Council would argue that attachments clouded judgment. Bugger that. Giles
wondered if it was simply a defense mechanism to avoid the pain that death
causes, all rolled into some giant, logical justification. At any rate, he
may have known much pain through all this, but he'd never regret knowing
Buffy.
He headed to his front door. In less than an hour, the others would
arrive, and they could try to rekindle some of the camaraderie that had
brought them through many horrible situations. But it wasn't going to stay
that way. Buffy had been their focal point, the group's reason for existing.
They could try to keep together for a time, but other forces and effects
would eventually drive them apart. It was already beginning. Sadly, he
thought that this dinner may be the death knoll for what they once were.
********
Sundown. In most cities, it was simply the time when the streetlights
turned on. In Sunnydale, it was always far more than that, even when most
people didn't realize why.
Long-time residents in Sunnydale often developed their own survival
instincts about sundown. They knew when the air was a little off, when
something sinister was awake and hungry. They didn't believe in vampires, of
course, but they were wise enough to stay indoors, avoid alleys, or not to
run off with strangers you've just met. It was mostly the young, the new,
and the arrogant that paid for their lack of "instinct."
Lately, the air was smelling off again. Someone important was gone, and
the word had gotten around. People who knew were staying home more. But
Michelle wasn't one of the people in the know. She was a college freshman
huddling in the back of an alley in downtown Sunnydale, watching in terror
as a group of four guys advanced on her. Guys who had fangs and feral
smiles.
"I got dibs," said one of the vampires.
"You got the last one," cried the vampire next to him. "I think it's my
turn."
"Don't be a baby," said the first one. "We'll shoot for it."
"Guys," asked the third one, looking behind him and being ignored by the
others.
"Wait a minute," said the fourth vampire, "I have seniority here. I
should get her."
The first one looked incredulously at the third one and said, "We're not
going by age, you idiot. We're going by kills, remember?"
"Well, how am I supposed to get any kills if you two hog them all?"
"Guys?" asked the third vamp again.
"Well, maybe you should do some independent hunting?" said the first
one.
"That's no fun. I though we were a group," complained the fourth one.
The second one, annoyed now, said, "This is all very cute, but if anyone
should get her, it's me. I started this gang, remember?"
The first one rolled his eyes. "Oh, not that again."
"Guys...Argghh! (Whomp!)" The third vampire's voice was cut off rather
suddenly.
The other three vamps finally turned toward the direction of their
companion. But instead of their companion, they found a white human male,
roughly six feet tall, dressed in a long-sleeved gray shirt and black pants,
with parted black hair that has streaks of silver running across it. His
eyes were brown, and they regarded the vampires with mammoth intensity. In
front of him was a pile of dust. "Excuse me," Valmont said casually, "I
wanted to ask that lady directions. I'm a little new here. I'd appreciate
if you didn't eat her."
The three vamps stared at Valmont, a little confused by the sudden turn
of fortune. The first one finally squared himself and spoke at Valmont.
"Buddy, I don't know how you got the drop on Jim, but we're adding you to
the menu."
The third vampire asked in a hopeful tone, "Can I get him?"
The first vampire rolled his eyes again. "Fricken! All right, go." With
that, the third vamp let out a big whoop and charged Valmont, hoping to
grapple him and sink his fangs into his jugular vein.
But he never got there.
Valmont spun around, executing a spin kick that connected with the
vamp's face, hurling the stricken vampire ten feet into a group of garbage
cans. The other two vamps simply stared at Valmont, now a little afraid.
Valmont only stared back and said, "Miss, I think you should be going now."
Michelle took the hint, running past the surprised vampires, out of the
alley, and not stopping until she reached her dorm room back at the college
campus.
"Ok. Good. She's gone." And without another word, Valmont charged.
For a minute, Valmont kept the two vamps at bay with nothing but his
fists and legs. The vamps weren't lightweight fighters, but they had little
skill. Valmont smashed one vamp in the chest with a right hook while
blocking the fists of the second with his left arm. A quick duck and leg
sweep made both vamps hit the cement ground hard. Valmont backed off and
gave all three vamps a chance to get up. Bolstered by 3-1 odds and
thinking Valmont was retreating, the vamps started advancing on him.
The third vamp, the one who had hit the garbage cans, remarked, "He's
got no stakes with him. We'll win this eventually."
The comment made the first vamp stop and reply, "If he doesn't have any
stakes, then how did..."
With dizzying speed, the first vamp's head flew off. A second later,
both his head and his falling torso disintegrated into dust. Valmont stood
over the dust pile, his right hand no longer a human one, but covered in
fine silver-colored hair, sporting five two-inch long claws. The claws were
stained with fresh blood and small bits of flesh. As the horrified vamps
watched, his left hand quickly transformed into a similar appendage.
Wanting nothing more to do with this man/freak/whatever, the two vamps
raced toward the alleyway exit. The second vamp got only two steps before
Valmont's left hand flashed and severed its head, dusting it. The last vamp
ran partway to the street before Valmont, moving with the grace of an
Olympic track-and-field star, caught him, tackled him, and pinned him
facedown to the ground. The vamp could barely scream when Valmont swung his
right hand and parted its head from its shoulders. A second later, he
was kneeling in a pile of dust.
"Well, I have to give them credit. They're the easiest guys to clean up
after." Valmont's hands turned back to normal, but he had to find a piece of
cloth in one of the garbage cans to wipe them off with. Next time, he'll
have to bring a hanky or something.
After his hands were clean, he simply stood still for a time, eyes
closed and listening to the sounds of the city. Such meditation helped calm
him down and made him presentable to the public. Battles helped him burn off
his inner rage, the fire that never quieted and never lessened. But this
battle had been too quick. He still felt unsettled. He still felt the urge
to rend and tear. He wished he could tear that out of him as easily as he
tore heads off vamps, but such things weren't meant to be.
But then, as he stood silent, his ears picked up a faint cry. He didn't
know if it was male or female, but it was definitely in distress. It was a
few blocks west. Not very far for him. Without a word, he started running
toward the sound of the cry. It was going to be a busy night, it seemed.
********
Everyone had moved to the couches once dinner was officially over. It
was around 8:30pm, and the mood was still fairly light. In fact, the
conversation during dinner had been almost jovial. Xander had talked about
the funny incident at the construction site he worked at where he was almost
hit by a falling pile of bricks. Or at least, it had been funny to his
fellow co-workers at the time. Willow and Tara talked about upcoming classes
and such. Anya tried to make small talk, but the subjects she picked,
typically about curses or money, weren't real hits. Giles bantered away at
times, but he wasn't all that talkative.
Dawn tried to keep smiling the whole time, but she said little and ate
little. She seemed less weary than in the morning, Giles observed, but she
still was distant from everyone. Even Xander's good-natured teasing had
little impact on her. And the others were beginning to pick up on it.
Spike came back into the house shortly after the gang had moved from the
dinner table. He was holding a empty glass that had held the contents of his
dinner. He had excused himself from the main dinner proceedings, since no
one particularly wanted to see him eat. And he wasn't all that interested in
dinner time small talk to begin with. "Ah, good, we're all finished," he
remarked to the group in general, heading for a chair in the corner to
situate himself in. "So, what's to be done tonight? Some patrolling, maybe?"
Xander looked at Spike with a 'you're kidding, right?' expression. "Yes,
we all want to go out and share the love with the denizens of the underworld
tonight. You're a broken record, you know that?'
"Hey, I'm just throwing ideas out there," Spike said. "I've done a bit
of solo patrolling lately, but it'll start getting nastier out there
if we don't make a stronger showing. That's all I'm getting at."
"Are you doing that for our sake," questioned Xander, "or are you doing
it just for some kicks?"
"Both," Spike responded nonchalantly.
"He may have a point, you know," Willow said. "I mean, it's been quiet,
but some evil demon type is bound to come along. Maybe we should start
practicing on the small stuff."
"Perhaps." It was Giles' turn now to talk. "But I rather we avoid the
topic tonight. I'd like to concentrate on the positive side for once."
"You know, I was wondering," said Anya, "when is another Slayer going to
show up?"
The others were quiet, and Anya got the impression that she had
blown it on the tact aspect of conversation again. She attempted to rectify.
"I mean, I only ask because I'm not great with Slayer lore. I just thought
that when one..." --she searched for a tactful word and couldn't find it--
"well, I just thought that one would've shown up by now. It would be a
positive thing when one did show, right?"
Giles decided to speak, if only to stop Anya from speaking anymore.
"Faith is the only Slayer now. And she's in prison. Most likely, she'll be
there for at least a decade, possibly longer. Until she dies, there won't be
any more Slayers."
Tara was now asking the question. "Well, if she's the only Slayer,
wouldn't the Council make an exception or something? Try to get her out or
rehabilitate her?"
"The Council hasn't told me much about what they are planning to do with
Faith," Giles explained. "But she's caused too much damage to be allowed to
resume her Slayer duties. As far as I know, the Council will simply let her
stay in prison for the time being. She's actually caused little trouble in
prison, from what I've heard."
"I guess she takes to prison life," Willow remarked, a little
spitefully.
"So much for the positive talk," Spike commented. He had been
watching Dawn the whole time, looking for some reaction to the Slayer
conversation. But Dawn seemed to be spacing out. She was sitting next to
Giles, who was also monitoring Dawn, though a bit more subtly.
Giles and Spike hadn't been the only ones concerned with Dawn's state of
being. "You know, you're still pretty, Dawn," said Anya.
"Anya!" Xander said, trying to be quiet and yet forceful, hoping Anya
wouldn't try to continue.
It didn't work. "I... not that you weren't pretty. But I think we all
should be reminded we're pretty from time to time. Unless you're a guy,
because guys don't like being called pretty. They like being called
handsome. So that's why.."
"Anya, stop!" Xander said again. This time, Anya took the hint and
closed her mouth.
"You know, I've always hated it when you guys talk around me and not to
me." It was Dawn this time. She had snapped out of her spacey look, and now
had a angry look instead. "Seems like everyone is always holding back on me,
because they think I'll break if you actually tell me something."
"You know, Little Bit, it's not that we're trying to hold back, " said
Spike, the first to speak after a few moments of silence. "Truth is, there's
not many secrets to tell right now. We're just mixed up about you. Didn't
want to add to your problem."
Spike managed to get a little smile out of Dawn. "I'm just... tired. I
just want to feel ok again, but I... I can't seem to shake it off. But none
of you could add to my problem." She sighed. "I'd like you to treat me like
you treat each other, not as the one that always has to be protected. That's
no longer... necessary."
Willow got up, came over to Dawn and hugged her. "You're right," she
said. "It's not fair to do that to you. Old habits dying hard and all that."
"Yeah. We'll give you that whole ugly truth when there's an ugly truth
to give," said Xander. He looked at Giles for a moment, who met his gaze and
shook his head quietly. *Perhaps not all ugly truths right away,* Xander
thought. He turned back to Dawn and continued. "But just remember that we're
here, and you can give us the same treatment when you need to."
"I'm having to take P.E. in college. How's that for an ugly truth?"
joked Tara. The others smiled, and the mood lightened a bit.
A little later, as everyone began getting ready to call it a night,
Willow asked Giles to step into his room. Willow closed the door behind her
and looked at Giles. "Is Dawn always looking like that, Giles?"
Giles nodded his head. "I don't know if it's because of grief or the
lack of sleep. She was more alert tonight, but she's still withdrawn much of
the time. You can understand now why I'm concerned."
Willow was silent for a moment, then, "I was thinking that I should stay
over tonight. Remember the mental spell I used on Buffy not long ago?"
"That mind-walking spell?" said Giles. "You want to try it on Dawn?"
"Well, with a little fiddling, I can use it on a sleeping person, so I
can watch their dreams. It would be just a spectator trip, no interaction."
Giles looked a little confused. "Have you used it before in that
fashion?"
Willow made a slightly guilty look. "Well, on Tara, once. But it wasn't
anything..."
Giles held up his hands. "I'm not asking for details."
Willow relaxed. "I think if we knew what was going on, what was
happening in her head, we could make her deal with the issues. It might help
her."
"Using the spell on Buffy had been a necessity at the time," said Giles.
"But I've never been all that comfortable with the idea of spying on other
people's minds. Some things should remain private."
"But you know something's eating at her," Willow replied. "I mean, she
seemed to be doing okay, then she starts with the anguish dreams. I don't
like invading minds and all, but she needs help. And would you want a total
stranger to be asking the questions?"
Giles thought about it for a time. "All right. I'm lacking any better
ideas at the moment. But I'm staying up with you in case anything happens."
Willow smiled. "I'll be careful. Don't tell Dawn, or it will probably
make it harder for her to go to sleep. I'll go tell Tara about the change in
plans." With that, she exited the room.
CONTINUED IN PART THREE
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 2)
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:32 PM
CONTINUED FROM PART ONE
Part Two: Lynchpin
The day had gone rather uneventfully for Giles after Willow and Xander
had left. The truck with the new Wicca supplies had been delayed, again, so
Willow had gone home empty-handed. But looking at Willow's mood after their
talk, Giles didn't think she was going to buy anything anyway. Giles had
asked Xander and Willow not to tell anyone else about his eminent departure
until he had confirmed it 100%. Truth was, he didn't want to bring anymore
pain to Dawn than he had to.
They also agreed to have a simple potluck at Giles' place in the
evening. Willow called it the End-of-Summer, Back-to-School,
Let's-Try-Not-To-Go-Crazy party. Xander thought it was as good a title as
any. It was at 6:00pm that Giles closed shop, with Anya explaining to him
that she would try to bring a pie to the dinner if Xander would actually let
her buy one. Giles mostly ignored the comment and headed home.
During the drive back, he couldn't help but think about the point when
everything had starting to fall apart. It hadn't started at Buffy's death,
he reasoned. Joyce's death was probably the real catalyst, though Giles
had to believe that they would have all gotten through it in time. Buffy
wasn't the same after her mother's death, and he wondered if it had
played a part in her sacrifice later. True, she had taken her sister's
place in the portal, giving her life to stop the oncoming destruction,
but she seemed to have done it so... easily. It was as if it was had been
a release for her. Dawn had told him of Buffy's last words, that she
understood and that she was "okay with it." But he didn't think that
he'd ever be okay with it.
The first two weeks after Buffy's death were the worst. The police, the
insomnia, the questions and the pain. They had been a tight group, and none
of them had realized how tight until then. Dawn had taken it stoically for a
time, somewhat numb after losing her mother not long before. It wasn't a
fair universe. She had been alive less than a year, turned from a form of
energy into a young girl by monks as a way of preserving her essence from
Glory's perverse plans, and yet her family had been all but wiped out in
that time. Not a fair universe at all.
The thing was, they were lucky that they had gotten off as... lucky as
they had. After Glory's death, the human victims of Glory's brainsucking
powers were still brainsucked. There was no way to know if the effect
would ever heal itself or wear off. Tara was fortunate that Willow had been
able to reverse it on her before Buffy had at Glory, and before he himself
had ended Glory's existence. And Anya spent several days in the County
Hospital when part of Glory's scaffolding fell on her. Thankfully, her
injuries went minor to moderate. Spike had the worst injuries, but being
undead had its advantages.
As he pulled into his home's driveway, he kept thinking that the
Council's policy against becoming attached to their Slayers had some wisdom
to it. Slayers inevitably had short lives. Even the best had maybe a decade
of life after their "calling." They burned bright, then blew out. The
Council would argue that attachments clouded judgment. Bugger that. Giles
wondered if it was simply a defense mechanism to avoid the pain that death
causes, all rolled into some giant, logical justification. At any rate, he
may have known much pain through all this, but he'd never regret knowing
Buffy.
He headed to his front door. In less than an hour, the others would
arrive, and they could try to rekindle some of the camaraderie that had
brought them through many horrible situations. But it wasn't going to stay
that way. Buffy had been their focal point, the group's reason for existing.
They could try to keep together for a time, but other forces and effects
would eventually drive them apart. It was already beginning. Sadly, he
thought that this dinner may be the death knoll for what they once were.
********
Sundown. In most cities, it was simply the time when the streetlights
turned on. In Sunnydale, it was always far more than that, even when most
people didn't realize why.
Long-time residents in Sunnydale often developed their own survival
instincts about sundown. They knew when the air was a little off, when
something sinister was awake and hungry. They didn't believe in vampires, of
course, but they were wise enough to stay indoors, avoid alleys, or not to
run off with strangers you've just met. It was mostly the young, the new,
and the arrogant that paid for their lack of "instinct."
Lately, the air was smelling off again. Someone important was gone, and
the word had gotten around. People who knew were staying home more. But
Michelle wasn't one of the people in the know. She was a college freshman
huddling in the back of an alley in downtown Sunnydale, watching in terror
as a group of four guys advanced on her. Guys who had fangs and feral
smiles.
"I got dibs," said one of the vampires.
"You got the last one," cried the vampire next to him. "I think it's my
turn."
"Don't be a baby," said the first one. "We'll shoot for it."
"Guys," asked the third one, looking behind him and being ignored by the
others.
"Wait a minute," said the fourth vampire, "I have seniority here. I
should get her."
The first one looked incredulously at the third one and said, "We're not
going by age, you idiot. We're going by kills, remember?"
"Well, how am I supposed to get any kills if you two hog them all?"
"Guys?" asked the third vamp again.
"Well, maybe you should do some independent hunting?" said the first
one.
"That's no fun. I though we were a group," complained the fourth one.
The second one, annoyed now, said, "This is all very cute, but if anyone
should get her, it's me. I started this gang, remember?"
The first one rolled his eyes. "Oh, not that again."
"Guys...Argghh! (Whomp!)" The third vampire's voice was cut off rather
suddenly.
The other three vamps finally turned toward the direction of their
companion. But instead of their companion, they found a white human male,
roughly six feet tall, dressed in a long-sleeved gray shirt and black pants,
with parted black hair that has streaks of silver running across it. His
eyes were brown, and they regarded the vampires with mammoth intensity. In
front of him was a pile of dust. "Excuse me," Valmont said casually, "I
wanted to ask that lady directions. I'm a little new here. I'd appreciate
if you didn't eat her."
The three vamps stared at Valmont, a little confused by the sudden turn
of fortune. The first one finally squared himself and spoke at Valmont.
"Buddy, I don't know how you got the drop on Jim, but we're adding you to
the menu."
The third vampire asked in a hopeful tone, "Can I get him?"
The first vampire rolled his eyes again. "Fricken! All right, go." With
that, the third vamp let out a big whoop and charged Valmont, hoping to
grapple him and sink his fangs into his jugular vein.
But he never got there.
Valmont spun around, executing a spin kick that connected with the
vamp's face, hurling the stricken vampire ten feet into a group of garbage
cans. The other two vamps simply stared at Valmont, now a little afraid.
Valmont only stared back and said, "Miss, I think you should be going now."
Michelle took the hint, running past the surprised vampires, out of the
alley, and not stopping until she reached her dorm room back at the college
campus.
"Ok. Good. She's gone." And without another word, Valmont charged.
For a minute, Valmont kept the two vamps at bay with nothing but his
fists and legs. The vamps weren't lightweight fighters, but they had little
skill. Valmont smashed one vamp in the chest with a right hook while
blocking the fists of the second with his left arm. A quick duck and leg
sweep made both vamps hit the cement ground hard. Valmont backed off and
gave all three vamps a chance to get up. Bolstered by 3-1 odds and
thinking Valmont was retreating, the vamps started advancing on him.
The third vamp, the one who had hit the garbage cans, remarked, "He's
got no stakes with him. We'll win this eventually."
The comment made the first vamp stop and reply, "If he doesn't have any
stakes, then how did..."
With dizzying speed, the first vamp's head flew off. A second later,
both his head and his falling torso disintegrated into dust. Valmont stood
over the dust pile, his right hand no longer a human one, but covered in
fine silver-colored hair, sporting five two-inch long claws. The claws were
stained with fresh blood and small bits of flesh. As the horrified vamps
watched, his left hand quickly transformed into a similar appendage.
Wanting nothing more to do with this man/freak/whatever, the two vamps
raced toward the alleyway exit. The second vamp got only two steps before
Valmont's left hand flashed and severed its head, dusting it. The last vamp
ran partway to the street before Valmont, moving with the grace of an
Olympic track-and-field star, caught him, tackled him, and pinned him
facedown to the ground. The vamp could barely scream when Valmont swung his
right hand and parted its head from its shoulders. A second later, he
was kneeling in a pile of dust.
"Well, I have to give them credit. They're the easiest guys to clean up
after." Valmont's hands turned back to normal, but he had to find a piece of
cloth in one of the garbage cans to wipe them off with. Next time, he'll
have to bring a hanky or something.
After his hands were clean, he simply stood still for a time, eyes
closed and listening to the sounds of the city. Such meditation helped calm
him down and made him presentable to the public. Battles helped him burn off
his inner rage, the fire that never quieted and never lessened. But this
battle had been too quick. He still felt unsettled. He still felt the urge
to rend and tear. He wished he could tear that out of him as easily as he
tore heads off vamps, but such things weren't meant to be.
But then, as he stood silent, his ears picked up a faint cry. He didn't
know if it was male or female, but it was definitely in distress. It was a
few blocks west. Not very far for him. Without a word, he started running
toward the sound of the cry. It was going to be a busy night, it seemed.
********
Everyone had moved to the couches once dinner was officially over. It
was around 8:30pm, and the mood was still fairly light. In fact, the
conversation during dinner had been almost jovial. Xander had talked about
the funny incident at the construction site he worked at where he was almost
hit by a falling pile of bricks. Or at least, it had been funny to his
fellow co-workers at the time. Willow and Tara talked about upcoming classes
and such. Anya tried to make small talk, but the subjects she picked,
typically about curses or money, weren't real hits. Giles bantered away at
times, but he wasn't all that talkative.
Dawn tried to keep smiling the whole time, but she said little and ate
little. She seemed less weary than in the morning, Giles observed, but she
still was distant from everyone. Even Xander's good-natured teasing had
little impact on her. And the others were beginning to pick up on it.
Spike came back into the house shortly after the gang had moved from the
dinner table. He was holding a empty glass that had held the contents of his
dinner. He had excused himself from the main dinner proceedings, since no
one particularly wanted to see him eat. And he wasn't all that interested in
dinner time small talk to begin with. "Ah, good, we're all finished," he
remarked to the group in general, heading for a chair in the corner to
situate himself in. "So, what's to be done tonight? Some patrolling, maybe?"
Xander looked at Spike with a 'you're kidding, right?' expression. "Yes,
we all want to go out and share the love with the denizens of the underworld
tonight. You're a broken record, you know that?'
"Hey, I'm just throwing ideas out there," Spike said. "I've done a bit
of solo patrolling lately, but it'll start getting nastier out there
if we don't make a stronger showing. That's all I'm getting at."
"Are you doing that for our sake," questioned Xander, "or are you doing
it just for some kicks?"
"Both," Spike responded nonchalantly.
"He may have a point, you know," Willow said. "I mean, it's been quiet,
but some evil demon type is bound to come along. Maybe we should start
practicing on the small stuff."
"Perhaps." It was Giles' turn now to talk. "But I rather we avoid the
topic tonight. I'd like to concentrate on the positive side for once."
"You know, I was wondering," said Anya, "when is another Slayer going to
show up?"
The others were quiet, and Anya got the impression that she had
blown it on the tact aspect of conversation again. She attempted to rectify.
"I mean, I only ask because I'm not great with Slayer lore. I just thought
that when one..." --she searched for a tactful word and couldn't find it--
"well, I just thought that one would've shown up by now. It would be a
positive thing when one did show, right?"
Giles decided to speak, if only to stop Anya from speaking anymore.
"Faith is the only Slayer now. And she's in prison. Most likely, she'll be
there for at least a decade, possibly longer. Until she dies, there won't be
any more Slayers."
Tara was now asking the question. "Well, if she's the only Slayer,
wouldn't the Council make an exception or something? Try to get her out or
rehabilitate her?"
"The Council hasn't told me much about what they are planning to do with
Faith," Giles explained. "But she's caused too much damage to be allowed to
resume her Slayer duties. As far as I know, the Council will simply let her
stay in prison for the time being. She's actually caused little trouble in
prison, from what I've heard."
"I guess she takes to prison life," Willow remarked, a little
spitefully.
"So much for the positive talk," Spike commented. He had been
watching Dawn the whole time, looking for some reaction to the Slayer
conversation. But Dawn seemed to be spacing out. She was sitting next to
Giles, who was also monitoring Dawn, though a bit more subtly.
Giles and Spike hadn't been the only ones concerned with Dawn's state of
being. "You know, you're still pretty, Dawn," said Anya.
"Anya!" Xander said, trying to be quiet and yet forceful, hoping Anya
wouldn't try to continue.
It didn't work. "I... not that you weren't pretty. But I think we all
should be reminded we're pretty from time to time. Unless you're a guy,
because guys don't like being called pretty. They like being called
handsome. So that's why.."
"Anya, stop!" Xander said again. This time, Anya took the hint and
closed her mouth.
"You know, I've always hated it when you guys talk around me and not to
me." It was Dawn this time. She had snapped out of her spacey look, and now
had a angry look instead. "Seems like everyone is always holding back on me,
because they think I'll break if you actually tell me something."
"You know, Little Bit, it's not that we're trying to hold back, " said
Spike, the first to speak after a few moments of silence. "Truth is, there's
not many secrets to tell right now. We're just mixed up about you. Didn't
want to add to your problem."
Spike managed to get a little smile out of Dawn. "I'm just... tired. I
just want to feel ok again, but I... I can't seem to shake it off. But none
of you could add to my problem." She sighed. "I'd like you to treat me like
you treat each other, not as the one that always has to be protected. That's
no longer... necessary."
Willow got up, came over to Dawn and hugged her. "You're right," she
said. "It's not fair to do that to you. Old habits dying hard and all that."
"Yeah. We'll give you that whole ugly truth when there's an ugly truth
to give," said Xander. He looked at Giles for a moment, who met his gaze and
shook his head quietly. *Perhaps not all ugly truths right away,* Xander
thought. He turned back to Dawn and continued. "But just remember that we're
here, and you can give us the same treatment when you need to."
"I'm having to take P.E. in college. How's that for an ugly truth?"
joked Tara. The others smiled, and the mood lightened a bit.
A little later, as everyone began getting ready to call it a night,
Willow asked Giles to step into his room. Willow closed the door behind her
and looked at Giles. "Is Dawn always looking like that, Giles?"
Giles nodded his head. "I don't know if it's because of grief or the
lack of sleep. She was more alert tonight, but she's still withdrawn much of
the time. You can understand now why I'm concerned."
Willow was silent for a moment, then, "I was thinking that I should stay
over tonight. Remember the mental spell I used on Buffy not long ago?"
"That mind-walking spell?" said Giles. "You want to try it on Dawn?"
"Well, with a little fiddling, I can use it on a sleeping person, so I
can watch their dreams. It would be just a spectator trip, no interaction."
Giles looked a little confused. "Have you used it before in that
fashion?"
Willow made a slightly guilty look. "Well, on Tara, once. But it wasn't
anything..."
Giles held up his hands. "I'm not asking for details."
Willow relaxed. "I think if we knew what was going on, what was
happening in her head, we could make her deal with the issues. It might help
her."
"Using the spell on Buffy had been a necessity at the time," said Giles.
"But I've never been all that comfortable with the idea of spying on other
people's minds. Some things should remain private."
"But you know something's eating at her," Willow replied. "I mean, she
seemed to be doing okay, then she starts with the anguish dreams. I don't
like invading minds and all, but she needs help. And would you want a total
stranger to be asking the questions?"
Giles thought about it for a time. "All right. I'm lacking any better
ideas at the moment. But I'm staying up with you in case anything happens."
Willow smiled. "I'll be careful. Don't tell Dawn, or it will probably
make it harder for her to go to sleep. I'll go tell Tara about the change in
plans." With that, she exited the room.
CONTINUED IN PART THREE