Okay, bit of a long chappy for you. I started with an initial idea and got carried away writing the Dawn part. What can I say, this thing is taking on a life of it's own.
Thanks immensely for the reviews; they're very inspiring. It's nice to see some of the same name's pop up again and again.
Hope you like. :-)
CHAPTER EIGHT:
It was strange how used she had grown so used to him in such a short time. The bed felt cold and empty when she woke up, the kitchen large and yet claustrophobic. The lounge had regained its previous ominous overtones but at least she could sit on the sofa now without being overcome with nausea.
He had given her all these memories, only to leave her with only them for company. (Oh and a clapped-out, old rust bucket with suspiciously blacked-out windows. What must the neighbours think?)
The aching void that he had eased pulled again in her gut and she recognised the pain all to well. She realised that she was grieving for him. (Is this his new way of trying to kill me? Got bored with fist and fangs and decided to try it this way instead? And then got bored with that?)
She stared at the square tiles of letters in front of her and her mind rearranged them into nonsensical words. TKERGAS, SKERTGA, AGE TRSK, STA TREK?
"I can't go."
Dawn looked up at her and frowned. "Are you sure? You said that last time."
She stared down at the web of words, her eyes focusing through the board, through the table, through the floor looking for some hidden meaning in it all. She broke away and turned her head back at her sister. "I can't go."
"It was your idea to play Scrabble, Buffy. You could at least put some effort into it. I mean what kind of a word is 'FAR'?"
"It's in the dictionary."
"Yeah... but if you're going to let me win you can at least be subtle about it."
Buffy sighed and sank back into the sofa. "I'm sorry, I just thought we could do something. Just the two of us, you know?"
"Yeah but *Scrabble*?" Dawn executed the perfect I-so-bored-with-this look N° 3 and even pouted a little.
"We used to play it, with Mom."
Her sister nodded and her eyes lowered to her own letters.
"Dawn?" She waited until Dawn met her eyes. "Do you think that I've been... neglecting you lately. You know since -?"
"Since you've been getting some?"
Buffy cringed. (What is it with Dawn and her mouth lately? Has she been spending too much time with Anya?)
"If you have to put it like that then, yeah. I mean, have you... you know, been feeling the neglect-age?"
Dawn shrugged. "Not really. Maybe you were a bit busy and in your room making a lot of suspect noises." She smiled at Buffy's blushes. "But when you were around you were... better."
"Better?"
"Yeah, you know... happier." Dawn's voice wilted and she continued in an only-just-audible whisper. "It was like for a while we were a family again and not just two... orphans."
"We're not orphans, Dawn."
That earned a bitter scoff. "That's right, we've got a Dad... somewhere."
"Do you want to call him?"
"Dad?! No!" She sighed and scrunched up her glassy eyes. "He doesn't care. I couldn't stand talking to someone that doesn't care right now."
"I know." They looked at each other in full understanding, The empathy passing between them in a heart wrenching moment of silent eye contact.
"I didn't want him to go away, if that's what you're thinking."
"No?"
"No, I mean he was alright for a bloodsucker with a bad bleach job."
Buffy laughed. "You didn't like the hair?"
Dawn's eyes wide with incredulity. "I suppose he's got that whole 'no reflection' excuse going for him. I mean if he ever saw just how ridiculous he looked, he'd probably never go out the house - Oh, er, I mean..."
Buffy let it pass with a wave of her hand. "The hair, it kinda grows on you."
"You mean *he* kinda grows on you."
Buffy gaped back at Dawn. Sometimes she would come out with something that would make Buffy question just who or what she was talking to. She looked into her sister's old-as-time eyes and wondered if the aged nature of The Key had endowed her with some innate wisdom that was totally at odds with the self-centred, easily-bored nature of the teenager she was. Something so old and young in the same annoying-little-sister package. You didn't get any more special than that.
"Yeah... I guess he does - did. But no more."
"Nevermore?"
"Never... 'Never' is a strong word -"
"There's always hope, right?"
Something in her sister's voice made her pause and question herself. Eventually she nodded. Somehow, unlike Riley, he had left her with something. Something she could now put a name to.
"Yeah, there's always hope."
-
-
-
-
"You think we should call a tow truck?" Dawn asked as they assessed the Desoto in the stark midday light.
"No. I'm not paying to have this thing shifted. Maybe if we leave it long enough it'll decompose. That or the aesthetically obsessed neighbours will have it removed." The sisters grinned at the shared image of Mrs. Randall hyper-ventilating about the state of the neighbourhood while staring pointedly at them.
A thought struck Buffy as they walked up to the car. "Or maybe we can fix it up." She ran a hand along the hood and up the paint-caked front window.
"You just don't want to let go."
No, it was proof. Proof he'd been here. Buffy smiled thinly at her sister. "Just leave it a couple of days?"
"Whatever... it's your call. Though you may wanna have it moved. You know in case Giles or anyone comes round. Won't they recognise it?"
She hadn't thought of that. She hadn't thought of much at all, except...
Sure her friends would recognise it. It was pretty much unmistakable. Just like him.
She tried the door - open. The keys were even still in the ignition. (Guess no one's gonna steal a dead engine. Guess no one would want *this* dead engine. Except me... maybe.)
She felt herself drawn in and sat down in the driver's seat. His scent engulfed her as it had done that first night and her mouth twitched into a smile as memories flooded into her. The car was more than just like him. It *was* him. Maybe she could keep it somewhere secluded. A place to go when it all got too much, a haven that smelt of all things him. (OK, don't get too much with the sappiness now, will you, Buff?)
Instinctively reaching for the keys she turned the engine over. It chugged and complained like she expected it to but then sprung to life with a startling grunt that made her jump. As the engine mellowed out into a steady growl she stared up at Dawn.
"I thought you said his thing wouldn't start?"
"I - It wouldn't." (OK, I didn't actually hear it not starting.)
"Miracle?"
"I don't think so. Unless it's just... temperamental." (Or has the worst/best timing ever.)
Dawn laughed and Buffy frowned at her. "What?"
"I know his game. He played the "my car won't start" trick, eh? A classic - well it is in the movies."
"Trick?" She found herself considering the word more than she would have liked. Had it all been a trick? Just when did it start? If the car was still running then why did he leave it behind? Or was this just his calling card? A shot of indefinable thought bolted through as she turned the engine off. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
She turned in her seat to look into the back seat. Nothing, just a few empty bottles of whiskey and cigarette butts.
"What you looking for." She heard Dawn ask. She couldn't say. She didn't know what she was looking for exactly but she knew what finding it would mean.
Hope.
Searching at the sides and under the seats turned up nothing but more of the same and a couple of old newspapers. 1977, 1992, 1981 (The year I was born. Huh.) Just on the point of giving up she had one more instinct to follow. Her eyes settled on the glove compartment and her hands were instantly on the latch, opening it.
There. That was it. Exactly. She tentatively pulled it out of it's confine and stared at it.
One of Drusilla's dolls.
There were some things that should be left behind. That could be left behind. But was this one of them? Even if this was all about hurting her, he still loved Drusilla. He would need this just as much as she needed things to remind her of her mother. Maybe he had wanted a really, really fresh start and wanted to leave it all behind him. Or maybe... just maybe, he hadn't left at all.
"Dawn!"
"What? What did you find?"
"Everything." She put the doll back in the glove compartment and got out the car, securing it habitually. "Come on, we're going to the Magic Shop."
-
-
-
-
"So, you've heard nothing? No rise in Vampiric activity or any new... strangeness?"
"No, nothing. Apart from the odd crazed leftover from Glory's brain food found wandering around, things have been rather quiet. Disturbingly so... I-I-It's as if something is building. Some - something terrible is waiting to happen -"
"This is Sunnydale, Giles. Something terrible is *always* waiting to happen. Something terrible is usually in the *process* of happening. As it is, I'm happy for the time off."
Giles seemed rightly taken aback by her outburst and predictably removed his glasses for inspection. Thankfully he refrained from cleaning them. She realised that it just gave him something else to focus on, a reason no to look her in the eye.
"That's understandable Buffy, after what you're going through but I really think that you should get back to your training. You don't want to be out of condition when the next -" He paused for a weighted, dramatic breath and met her eye once more. She wasn't going to like this "You need to understand that you - Glory is a very powerful opponent, a god no less -"
"Yes! I get it. A Hell god. "Feel my fury, for you shall bow down before me" and all that. I *get* it, Giles, I've fought her before. Remember?" It was her turn to take a heavy breath. "But when the time comes - no matter how hard I train - I'm not gonna be able to defeat her through strength alone." She sat down and sighed, rubbing at her temples with her fingers.
"So you're just going to... give up?"
She glanced at Giles and her gaze drifted to rest on her sister, sat quietly, awkwardly twiddling her thumbs amidst the tension. She smiled at her.
"No. Never." Dawn grinned at that and Buffy had never felt so proud.
The bell tinkled and the sound of laughter dissolved the tension. She glanced up to see Xander, Anya and Willow enter the shop.
"Anya Jenkins, shop-assistant extraordinairre reporting for duty." Anya stopped just short of a salute as she approached Giles. "Well boss, where are the customers?"
"Anya." Giles was breathless already. "It's been a quiet morning. Why don't you start the stock taking?"
"Oh, OK. Bye honey." She pecked Xander on the cheek before disappearing down into the cellar.
"Hey Giles, Buffy." Xander made a special smile for Dawn. "How's my favourite Dawny?"
Dawn rolled her eyes. "I'm not twelve any more, *Xandy*. In fact, I never was." At that she stood up and went to look around the shop.
"Don't worry, Xandy. I still love you." Willow smiled as she sat down next to a suddenly quite disconcerted Xander. She looked quietly serene in the manner that only the seriously content and loved-up can carry off and for more than a moment Buffy envied her. "How you doing, Buffy?"
"Unsettled. I think there's something going on." She glanced quickly at Giles to see him nod wearily.
"Once again, the theme-tune of the Hellmouth." Xander quipped, stretching out a casual yawn. "And here I thought we could have a nice hang-out-y Saturday with no hell beasties getting in the way. Should have known... So, what's the 411?"
She stopped. She couldn't tell them. They'd find out eventually and she'd face them when they did but not now. She wasn't ready. "Er, guys. I really think I should handle this on my own -"
A burst of activity coming forth from the door interrupted her. She turned in alarm to see two of Glory's scabby minions advancing upon them. Her eyes shot to Dawn and she silently urged her sister to hide behind the counter she was standing at. Satisfied that Dawn was hidden she stood to face-off with the minions.
"What do you want?"
"If you please. It is not a matter of what we want but what our Mistress, the most incandescent and radiant One most deeply desires that is our business -"
"Because what She desires is what we desire. Her most humble and loyal servants that we are."
"Indeed, for serving her -"
"I'm losing my patience rather quickly here and you don't want to see me in my most out-of-patience state." (OK, not my best threat) But it had the required effect. The minions stopped expounding amongst the two of them and even cowered a little.
"Right. Straight out with it..." The male minion began before taking a step back and giving the female the stage. (Typical male)
"Quite. Glory has your pet Vampire and if you do not relinquish The Key to her she will kill him."
"Her what?" Xander and Willow questioned loudly together and Buffy's heart stopped.
"Glory would normally do away with such a creature on sight but you do seem quite... attached to this particular specimen - and may I just say, I can see why - and Glory with Her infinite intelligence realises the bargaining power he possesses." The minion smiled smugly and pressed her palms together. "The trade is simple: The Vampire for The Key."
"The what? What the hell's she talking about, Buffy?" Xander.
"Yeah, Buffy. What's this all about?" Willow.
"Buffy. This has gone far enough. I demand to know what is going on here." Giles.
Buffy turned to the questioning gaze of her friends and Watcher.
"Er, guys." She winced. "I think there's something you should know."
Thanks immensely for the reviews; they're very inspiring. It's nice to see some of the same name's pop up again and again.
Hope you like. :-)
CHAPTER EIGHT:
It was strange how used she had grown so used to him in such a short time. The bed felt cold and empty when she woke up, the kitchen large and yet claustrophobic. The lounge had regained its previous ominous overtones but at least she could sit on the sofa now without being overcome with nausea.
He had given her all these memories, only to leave her with only them for company. (Oh and a clapped-out, old rust bucket with suspiciously blacked-out windows. What must the neighbours think?)
The aching void that he had eased pulled again in her gut and she recognised the pain all to well. She realised that she was grieving for him. (Is this his new way of trying to kill me? Got bored with fist and fangs and decided to try it this way instead? And then got bored with that?)
She stared at the square tiles of letters in front of her and her mind rearranged them into nonsensical words. TKERGAS, SKERTGA, AGE TRSK, STA TREK?
"I can't go."
Dawn looked up at her and frowned. "Are you sure? You said that last time."
She stared down at the web of words, her eyes focusing through the board, through the table, through the floor looking for some hidden meaning in it all. She broke away and turned her head back at her sister. "I can't go."
"It was your idea to play Scrabble, Buffy. You could at least put some effort into it. I mean what kind of a word is 'FAR'?"
"It's in the dictionary."
"Yeah... but if you're going to let me win you can at least be subtle about it."
Buffy sighed and sank back into the sofa. "I'm sorry, I just thought we could do something. Just the two of us, you know?"
"Yeah but *Scrabble*?" Dawn executed the perfect I-so-bored-with-this look N° 3 and even pouted a little.
"We used to play it, with Mom."
Her sister nodded and her eyes lowered to her own letters.
"Dawn?" She waited until Dawn met her eyes. "Do you think that I've been... neglecting you lately. You know since -?"
"Since you've been getting some?"
Buffy cringed. (What is it with Dawn and her mouth lately? Has she been spending too much time with Anya?)
"If you have to put it like that then, yeah. I mean, have you... you know, been feeling the neglect-age?"
Dawn shrugged. "Not really. Maybe you were a bit busy and in your room making a lot of suspect noises." She smiled at Buffy's blushes. "But when you were around you were... better."
"Better?"
"Yeah, you know... happier." Dawn's voice wilted and she continued in an only-just-audible whisper. "It was like for a while we were a family again and not just two... orphans."
"We're not orphans, Dawn."
That earned a bitter scoff. "That's right, we've got a Dad... somewhere."
"Do you want to call him?"
"Dad?! No!" She sighed and scrunched up her glassy eyes. "He doesn't care. I couldn't stand talking to someone that doesn't care right now."
"I know." They looked at each other in full understanding, The empathy passing between them in a heart wrenching moment of silent eye contact.
"I didn't want him to go away, if that's what you're thinking."
"No?"
"No, I mean he was alright for a bloodsucker with a bad bleach job."
Buffy laughed. "You didn't like the hair?"
Dawn's eyes wide with incredulity. "I suppose he's got that whole 'no reflection' excuse going for him. I mean if he ever saw just how ridiculous he looked, he'd probably never go out the house - Oh, er, I mean..."
Buffy let it pass with a wave of her hand. "The hair, it kinda grows on you."
"You mean *he* kinda grows on you."
Buffy gaped back at Dawn. Sometimes she would come out with something that would make Buffy question just who or what she was talking to. She looked into her sister's old-as-time eyes and wondered if the aged nature of The Key had endowed her with some innate wisdom that was totally at odds with the self-centred, easily-bored nature of the teenager she was. Something so old and young in the same annoying-little-sister package. You didn't get any more special than that.
"Yeah... I guess he does - did. But no more."
"Nevermore?"
"Never... 'Never' is a strong word -"
"There's always hope, right?"
Something in her sister's voice made her pause and question herself. Eventually she nodded. Somehow, unlike Riley, he had left her with something. Something she could now put a name to.
"Yeah, there's always hope."
-
-
-
-
"You think we should call a tow truck?" Dawn asked as they assessed the Desoto in the stark midday light.
"No. I'm not paying to have this thing shifted. Maybe if we leave it long enough it'll decompose. That or the aesthetically obsessed neighbours will have it removed." The sisters grinned at the shared image of Mrs. Randall hyper-ventilating about the state of the neighbourhood while staring pointedly at them.
A thought struck Buffy as they walked up to the car. "Or maybe we can fix it up." She ran a hand along the hood and up the paint-caked front window.
"You just don't want to let go."
No, it was proof. Proof he'd been here. Buffy smiled thinly at her sister. "Just leave it a couple of days?"
"Whatever... it's your call. Though you may wanna have it moved. You know in case Giles or anyone comes round. Won't they recognise it?"
She hadn't thought of that. She hadn't thought of much at all, except...
Sure her friends would recognise it. It was pretty much unmistakable. Just like him.
She tried the door - open. The keys were even still in the ignition. (Guess no one's gonna steal a dead engine. Guess no one would want *this* dead engine. Except me... maybe.)
She felt herself drawn in and sat down in the driver's seat. His scent engulfed her as it had done that first night and her mouth twitched into a smile as memories flooded into her. The car was more than just like him. It *was* him. Maybe she could keep it somewhere secluded. A place to go when it all got too much, a haven that smelt of all things him. (OK, don't get too much with the sappiness now, will you, Buff?)
Instinctively reaching for the keys she turned the engine over. It chugged and complained like she expected it to but then sprung to life with a startling grunt that made her jump. As the engine mellowed out into a steady growl she stared up at Dawn.
"I thought you said his thing wouldn't start?"
"I - It wouldn't." (OK, I didn't actually hear it not starting.)
"Miracle?"
"I don't think so. Unless it's just... temperamental." (Or has the worst/best timing ever.)
Dawn laughed and Buffy frowned at her. "What?"
"I know his game. He played the "my car won't start" trick, eh? A classic - well it is in the movies."
"Trick?" She found herself considering the word more than she would have liked. Had it all been a trick? Just when did it start? If the car was still running then why did he leave it behind? Or was this just his calling card? A shot of indefinable thought bolted through as she turned the engine off. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
She turned in her seat to look into the back seat. Nothing, just a few empty bottles of whiskey and cigarette butts.
"What you looking for." She heard Dawn ask. She couldn't say. She didn't know what she was looking for exactly but she knew what finding it would mean.
Hope.
Searching at the sides and under the seats turned up nothing but more of the same and a couple of old newspapers. 1977, 1992, 1981 (The year I was born. Huh.) Just on the point of giving up she had one more instinct to follow. Her eyes settled on the glove compartment and her hands were instantly on the latch, opening it.
There. That was it. Exactly. She tentatively pulled it out of it's confine and stared at it.
One of Drusilla's dolls.
There were some things that should be left behind. That could be left behind. But was this one of them? Even if this was all about hurting her, he still loved Drusilla. He would need this just as much as she needed things to remind her of her mother. Maybe he had wanted a really, really fresh start and wanted to leave it all behind him. Or maybe... just maybe, he hadn't left at all.
"Dawn!"
"What? What did you find?"
"Everything." She put the doll back in the glove compartment and got out the car, securing it habitually. "Come on, we're going to the Magic Shop."
-
-
-
-
"So, you've heard nothing? No rise in Vampiric activity or any new... strangeness?"
"No, nothing. Apart from the odd crazed leftover from Glory's brain food found wandering around, things have been rather quiet. Disturbingly so... I-I-It's as if something is building. Some - something terrible is waiting to happen -"
"This is Sunnydale, Giles. Something terrible is *always* waiting to happen. Something terrible is usually in the *process* of happening. As it is, I'm happy for the time off."
Giles seemed rightly taken aback by her outburst and predictably removed his glasses for inspection. Thankfully he refrained from cleaning them. She realised that it just gave him something else to focus on, a reason no to look her in the eye.
"That's understandable Buffy, after what you're going through but I really think that you should get back to your training. You don't want to be out of condition when the next -" He paused for a weighted, dramatic breath and met her eye once more. She wasn't going to like this "You need to understand that you - Glory is a very powerful opponent, a god no less -"
"Yes! I get it. A Hell god. "Feel my fury, for you shall bow down before me" and all that. I *get* it, Giles, I've fought her before. Remember?" It was her turn to take a heavy breath. "But when the time comes - no matter how hard I train - I'm not gonna be able to defeat her through strength alone." She sat down and sighed, rubbing at her temples with her fingers.
"So you're just going to... give up?"
She glanced at Giles and her gaze drifted to rest on her sister, sat quietly, awkwardly twiddling her thumbs amidst the tension. She smiled at her.
"No. Never." Dawn grinned at that and Buffy had never felt so proud.
The bell tinkled and the sound of laughter dissolved the tension. She glanced up to see Xander, Anya and Willow enter the shop.
"Anya Jenkins, shop-assistant extraordinairre reporting for duty." Anya stopped just short of a salute as she approached Giles. "Well boss, where are the customers?"
"Anya." Giles was breathless already. "It's been a quiet morning. Why don't you start the stock taking?"
"Oh, OK. Bye honey." She pecked Xander on the cheek before disappearing down into the cellar.
"Hey Giles, Buffy." Xander made a special smile for Dawn. "How's my favourite Dawny?"
Dawn rolled her eyes. "I'm not twelve any more, *Xandy*. In fact, I never was." At that she stood up and went to look around the shop.
"Don't worry, Xandy. I still love you." Willow smiled as she sat down next to a suddenly quite disconcerted Xander. She looked quietly serene in the manner that only the seriously content and loved-up can carry off and for more than a moment Buffy envied her. "How you doing, Buffy?"
"Unsettled. I think there's something going on." She glanced quickly at Giles to see him nod wearily.
"Once again, the theme-tune of the Hellmouth." Xander quipped, stretching out a casual yawn. "And here I thought we could have a nice hang-out-y Saturday with no hell beasties getting in the way. Should have known... So, what's the 411?"
She stopped. She couldn't tell them. They'd find out eventually and she'd face them when they did but not now. She wasn't ready. "Er, guys. I really think I should handle this on my own -"
A burst of activity coming forth from the door interrupted her. She turned in alarm to see two of Glory's scabby minions advancing upon them. Her eyes shot to Dawn and she silently urged her sister to hide behind the counter she was standing at. Satisfied that Dawn was hidden she stood to face-off with the minions.
"What do you want?"
"If you please. It is not a matter of what we want but what our Mistress, the most incandescent and radiant One most deeply desires that is our business -"
"Because what She desires is what we desire. Her most humble and loyal servants that we are."
"Indeed, for serving her -"
"I'm losing my patience rather quickly here and you don't want to see me in my most out-of-patience state." (OK, not my best threat) But it had the required effect. The minions stopped expounding amongst the two of them and even cowered a little.
"Right. Straight out with it..." The male minion began before taking a step back and giving the female the stage. (Typical male)
"Quite. Glory has your pet Vampire and if you do not relinquish The Key to her she will kill him."
"Her what?" Xander and Willow questioned loudly together and Buffy's heart stopped.
"Glory would normally do away with such a creature on sight but you do seem quite... attached to this particular specimen - and may I just say, I can see why - and Glory with Her infinite intelligence realises the bargaining power he possesses." The minion smiled smugly and pressed her palms together. "The trade is simple: The Vampire for The Key."
"The what? What the hell's she talking about, Buffy?" Xander.
"Yeah, Buffy. What's this all about?" Willow.
"Buffy. This has gone far enough. I demand to know what is going on here." Giles.
Buffy turned to the questioning gaze of her friends and Watcher.
"Er, guys." She winced. "I think there's something you should know."