A/N: All previous disclaimers, author's notes, casual comments, and snide remarks are still in effect until either I give notice or until I get bored enough to make new ones. Whichever happens first. Or last. Whatever. And, as always, please review. Even a simple "nifty" or "sucks" works if you want. ;) Thanks to all who have already reviewed.
Chapter 4 – Now What?
Willow really had no earthly clue what else to say. And the unearthly ones weren't being very forthcoming either. She'd had good intentions with her spell. Honestly she had. Something just went a little… sideways. Okay, maybe more like hugeishly sideways, but still. All good intent behind it. Although, she was pretty sure that would offer no consolation to the displaced duo before her.
A small part of her couldn't help but cheer. Imagine me, Willow Rosenberg, ex-geek, now a manipulator of space AND time. I SO rock. But she really didn't think that would help much, either. Especially since Max was giving her that frigid look. Willow was looking for a straw to grasp, when Max beat her to it and snapped it in half.
"Oops? That's all you can say? Oops!" The unhappy woman pushed back from the table and began to do a slow prowl around them all. "Sunnydale. They call it 'Sunny'-dale. What the hell kind of name is that? Sunny-fucking-dale. And what's the great all-American pastime in this Sunny place? Relocating strangers!" she chanted in a sharp, desperate rhythm. She stopped and looked at Logan. "This can't be real. Places like this only exist in fairy tales where the prince turns into a frog or a pumpkin or something and everyone lives happily ever after. This kind of stuff doesn't happen. It has to be a dream. Has to be!" Dark eyes pleaded with bright blue ones.
Logan wanted nothing more than to tell her that if she just pulled the blankets a little closer to her chin and fluffed her pillow it would all go away. Some little part of him, too, was trying to open his eyes and watch the sunrise over Seattle. But a different part – the part that had seen a girl smash through his life and out his window one fateful night, and make him believe that twelve genetically engineered children could, in fact, escape their secret government captors – couldn't help but believe that they had gone almost twenty years into the past. It'd be a hell of a lot easier to believe in Santa Claus, though. "Max," he began, not knowing what would help. "We're here. We have seen. Dreams, visions, transportation, relocation, whatever you want to call it, it doesn't matter. What matters is us getting back to where we belong, okay?"
It was a long few seconds as Max simply stared at Logan, trying to mesh what he was telling her with what her mind was telling her and what was happening around her. After she felt like she'd gotten that big square peg of her situation jammed far enough into the round hole of her life, she blinked and shrugged. "Sooner the better, I guess." She thought for a moment, and then frowned at him. "How come you're so up on this hocus pocus abracadabra mumbo jumbo? Got a cousin who does slight of hand?"
It was Logan's turn to shrug. "Dated a Wiccan – a witch – in college."
"Married a witch later, I recall," she mumbled as she retook her seat. Logan rolled his eyes and grinned.
"That's w-what we are," Tara spoke up haltingly, motioning between her and Willow. "Witches." She then realized what Max had meant. "Oh. No. Not that kind. I don't mean… no. Magic-type witches."
Max looked the two girls over. Both seemed to match the Sunnydale standard she'd seen so far. Bright and… sunny. It was hard, everyone in a town looking like that. It was wreaking havoc with her internal need to blend in. Her own dark looks just didn't seem to fit well. Logan on the other hand… pretty much fit the norm. She shook off the old training and asked the witches who had finally joined them at the table, "So what were you trying to do with this spell that zapped us? Rearrange the furniture?"
Willow smiled in relief. For a short time there, she'd been worried for her safety, even though she figured that she might feel the same as Max if their situations had been reversed. "Not really. I was trying to move Buffy and Giles. Bring them here, that is."
"Why?" Logan asked.
"Well, I'd tried a similar spell before that had a bad aftertaste, so I was trying to see if I could find one that would work fine just in case Glo-" she stopped as Buffy shot her a sharp glance. "Global warming occurs and there's those icebergs that get all melty and go sploosh and sink Sunnydale or California or… somewhere," Willow amended hastily.
Max rose an eyebrow and gave a slow nod. "So they don't miss out on the good surfing with those massive tidal waves, huh?"
"Uh, yeah," Willow replied meekly. She glanced at her friends out of the corners of her eyes. Buffy had a pained look on her face and Giles was carefully cleaning his glasses.
Max decided to just let it slide. Let them keep their secrets. It's not like I don't have mine. If it's something really important, I'll get it from them… eventually. The next question that came to mind was slightly stupid, but she figured she should ask anyway. "Since you brought us here, can't you just send us back?"
Tara and Willow looked at each other. Tara shook her head. "It was a bringing spell. It wo-won't send anywhere." She squirmed a little under Max's gaze and took a quick breath. "We, uh, from what Willow's told me, I don't… I'm not sure what went wrong. Anymore. We had ideas, but… well, you're here. I thought it had s-seemed that it was targeted dir-directly for Buffy and Mr. Giles."
"Meaning…?" Max wanted to know.
Giles stood slowly. "Meaning that we'll all have to look through the books here to see if we can locate anything that will assist in resolving your… predicament, as Logan termed it. I have several acquaintances who may be able to provide some additional assistance in the matter… I may call upon them later if the need arises. If Willow can provide me with the exact phrasing of the spell she used, my contacts could examine it for any inaccuracies." He paused and noticed that Max and Logan had matching blank looks on their faces. Realizing that they may have never considered magic in quite the same way as he and his did, he added, "It could be something as simple as a forgotten word or misplaced emphasis that may have caused the situation you now find yourselves in. My contacts my also be able to find a way to return you to Seattle. Your Seattle. In the meantime, you-" He broke off as the door flung open and a young girl with long light brown hair skipped through the doorway.
"Free at last. Free at last, thank God almighty, I-" The girl stopped short as she gaped at the unfamiliar people sitting at The Table. "I don't know you," she finished up.
Buffy began the introductions. "This is my sister Dawn. Dawn, this is Max and Logan. They're kind of visiting, kind of stuck."
Max gave a kind of half smile to Dawn. "Hey there. Nice shirt."
As Dawn's face lit with pleasure, Buffy looked to see what her reprobate sister was actually wearing. The jeans jacket she was wearing wasn't too bad. It was the black crop top underneath that was emblazoned with "Girls Kick Ass" in shining silver letters that she had issue with. "Hey! I thought Mom told you that you weren't allowed to wear that shirt to school anymore."
Dawn crossed her arms in front of her chest. She put all her weight on one hip, lifted her chin, and looked at her elder sister through slightly narrowed eyes. "Mom asked. She didn't tell. Besides, I think it's fine. And Max likes it." She took a couple steps closer to Max and held out her hand. "Nice to meet you."
Buffy looked at Max, whose face had taken on a very faux innocent look as she shook Dawn's hand. "Max is from the year 2020, so I'm not sure she's the best judge of local fashion." Especially considering that her shirt is about the same size as yours, she wanted to add, but didn't.
Dawn had perked up a bit. "2020?! Really? Does that mean you're time travelers? That is so awesome. And so much cooler than Buffy—" She stopped, her eyes getting wide as she felt her sister's fiery glare boring into her forehead.
"Who is going to kick you from here to home if you don't get an attitude adjustment. Mom doesn't need this right now, I don't need this right now, and you sure don't need it either. I just want you to be the normal sister in the normal family that we have," Buffy said, hoping Dawn would get the hint.
It was a different hint that Dawn had picked up. She seemed to close off a little as she plunked herself down on the steps. "Fine. I'll just sit here all invisible while you talk to your time travelers."
Buffy rolled her eyes as she turned back the table. "I asked for a puppy," she grumbled. "You were saying, Giles?"
Giles sighed. "I was saying that since it is going to take some time for us to figure out what to do with our new friends here, they may want to simply settle in for a bit."
Max threw him an exasperated look. "Settle in? Settle in where? You might notice we don't exactly have enough time to grab a tent and sleeping bags when we were brought here. And we're kind of low on chips." At the slightly owlish blinks of incomprehension, she clarified, "Cash."
Dawn spoke up from her seat. "We'll help. We can find somewhere for you to go."
"I thought you were playing invisible," Anya mentioned with a expression of innocent curiosity.
"Well, since they're here," Dawn started with a slight glare at Anya, "it must be our fault in a way." Dawn glanced at Willow, who raised a hand in sheepish acknowledgment. "Okay, Willow's fault. You've always pestered me about being responsible for my actions, so why shouldn't that apply here?"
It was Buffy's turn to sigh. "It's not quite that simple, Dawnie. Who knows how long it'll take us to get them to where they belong? On top of that, Willow and Tara live in a college dorm, so that's out. Same thing with Xander and Anya and their little apartment. And Giles-"
"Then they can stay with us," Dawn declared.
Buffy searched for some deep and meaningful response. "Huh?"
"Please?" Dawn pleaded. "You've pretty much just said it yourself, they have no where else to go. We've got a pretty big house, bigger than any roach motel that's for sure." Not sensing the reaction she wanted, she begged, "Buffy, I'll even walk them and make sure they don't chew on the couch. Come on."
Buffy regarded her younger sister. She looked so young. A hopeful grin was resting on her face, and her eyes had lit up in anticipation of new events in her life. She seemed happier than she had been in a short while. This might be what she needs, something else to focus on besides the fact that she's a glowing ball of energy in her natural state. Gotta play a bit first, though. "How do you expect to take care of two people? You couldn't even take care of your Giga Pet."
Dawn's jaw dropped. "I took care of it fine. It loved me."
A snort, then, "It killed itself after three days."
"Buffy!" Dawn gave a small shriek in frustration. When she heard a massive sigh from the rest of the group, she looked around and saw nearly everyone rolling their eyes at the two.
Buffy sighed and pretended to ponder halfheartedly. "I don't know…." She watched as Dawn started to tap her feet in barely restrained consternation. Buffy gave a small smile, like she was giving in. "Mom's got the ultimate decision."
Dawn leaped up from the steps and bounded across the shop to grip her sister in a vice-like hug. "Yes! Oh, thank you, Buffy! Can we call Mom now?"
"No, we'll just show up at home with them. Believe me, Mom will be less likely to say no that way."
Dawn grinned and turned back to Max and Logan, who had watched the siblings' verbal duel with looks of interest and amusement. "2020, huh? Do cars fly around and computers rule the earth? Must all be pretty neat. Futuristic like."
Max gave a small shrug. "Post-apocalyptic like is the better term for it." She looked around a bit as she noticed the rest of the group stiffen up at her words.
"What do you mean?" Buffy questioned warily. Apocalypse was always the catch phrase they talked about preventing. Never once had they discussed one that had managed to complete itself.
"Well, you know… terrorists… electromagnetic pulse…. economic chaos… everything's fucked. But hey, it's home, so what are you gonna do," Max finished out. She couldn't help but feel a little twinge of guilt as she looked at the faces around her. They looked mildly ill. She tried to shake it off. She didn't cause the Pulse, and by the looks of these people, they'd been well off. They'd learn to survive somehow. Everyone does. Did. Will. Still didn't help being the messenger, though.
Buffy however, was slightly on the relieved side. Damn, that's sick. ' It wasn't a demon caused apocalypse? Oh, that's all well and good then.' Geez. "Speaking of home," she began, running distraction, "we should probably be getting home so Mom knows she's got company." She stood, and turned to Giles. "Will you be around tomorrow?" At his nod, she said, "I may try to stop by and we can work on some more of that, uh, stuff." Note to self: check thesaurus for alternative to 'stuff.' Hell, check life for alternative to 'stuff.'
Logan had pushed back from the table and moved over to Giles to shake his hand one more time. "It was nice meeting you, Giles. Thanks for your help today," he smiled, giving a slight glance between Anya, who was muttering something to the effect of "I knew it" and Max, who had already made her way to the door to stand next to an energetic Dawn.
Giles couldn't help but grin, catching the double meaning to his words. "Anytime. You're both always welcome here."
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The walk to 1630 Revello Drive was fairly short. Max and Logan found themselves in a nice little neighborhood, with nicely trimmed lawns and picturesque houses. Max couldn't help but gape as she stared at the lovely two story home the Summers' girls had led them to. She had very distant memories of such places, briefly passed as she had ran for her life. There was something about this place that felt… welcoming somehow. She didn't quite know how else to put it, since it was such an unusual feeling. Her life had been a series of abandoned buildings, rundown shelters, and alley hideouts interspersed with the occasional warm spot. She approached the porch with a slight mixture of excitement and trepidation. Max looked down at the steps at her feet, and then looked back to Logan. Before she could say anything, Buffy looked at Dawn quickly and rushed with a slightly embarrassed, "Umm, we could get Xander to put down a ramp tomorrow morning. I'll call tonight and ask."
Logan shrugged and shook his head. "Oh, it's not that big of a deal. Max, could you just give me a little help?" She nodded and supported the back of the chair as he popped a small wheelie and kind of got up the steps with a little assistance. He turned back to his hosts and said, "See? No problem."
Buffy smiled with momentary relief. One potentially awkward situation down, probably whole bunches to go. She followed him up the front steps and opened the front door. "Mom!" she called. "We're home!" She turned to tell her visitors to come on in, when she saw that Max had already done so and had made her way into the living room. Buffy said sarcastically, "Make yourself at home," and turned to glance at Logan, who had a slight smile as he watched Max wander off.
A small voice was trying to tell Max that maybe it would be a little polite if she waited to be invited around the place, but she just ignored it as usual and gave herself a tour of the living area. She prided herself on being able to read people pretty well, but by the looks of this house, she sure had gotten a few things about Buffy and Dawn wrong. She'd mistaken them for average people, when it turned out they were loaded! There was a plush rug, pristine furniture, a lot of expensive looking wood things, and more than enough knick knacks and other odds and ends in the room than she could count. She couldn't help but do a mental inventory of how much she could fence it for. She was pretty damn impressed.
"Who are you?" a voice from behind asked.
Max spun quickly. The voice belonged to an older woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Max was equal parts impressed and chagrined. The woman had managed to sneak up behind her without being noticed. "Max," she answered her. "Who are you?"
Buffy, Dawn, and Logan entered the room just in time to see the two women sizing each other up. Buffy said, "Max, meet Joyce Summers. My mother."
Joyce saw something in Max's eyes briefly flash before being hidden again. The girl couldn't have been much older than Buffy, but something in her looks and stance indicated more of a worldliness that her daughter sometimes lacked. Plus the jeans, crop top, leather jacket, boots, and bike gloves – all in black – indicated an added toughness to the darkness in her features. "It's nice to meet you Max…" She waited for a last name, or anything else, but none was forthcoming. She turned her attention to the other visitor in her home, a young, more friendly-seeming man in a wheelchair.
Buffy wasn't quite sure what to do about Max, but decided to just continue the introductions. "Mom, this is Logan. He and Max are…" she looked for the right word, and deciding that Dawn's term fit the bill the best, continued, "time travelers."
Joyce continued to smile as she shook Logan's hand. "Time travelers?" She glanced at Buffy, who shrugged and nodded, and looked back to the man. "That's interesting." Joyce paused again, running through the list of oddities that had entered her house. She was pretty sure it was a first for time travelers. "Will you be staying for dinner?"
Logan and Max looked sharply at each other at the quick acceptance of their unusual circumstances. But before they could question the reaction or reply in any other way, Buffy poked Dawn sharply with her elbow. At her exclamation of pain, Buffy motioned with her chin towards their mother. Dawn gave Buffy an imploring look, to which Buffy sighed. "Uh, Mom," Buffy began, trying to use her best pleading look. Trouble was, that particular look didn't work that often. As in never. "Actually, Dawn and I, especially Dawn, were wondering if Max and Logan could stay stay." She decided to just drop the pleading look and put it all out on the table. "Willow accidentally magicked them here and they have no where to go."
Dawn stepped forward. "Please, Mom? We have plenty of room here, honest. And I told Buffy I would help out with whatever they need."
Joyce's eyebrows raised with mild surprise and slight perplexity. "You told Buffy."
"It was my idea. It's just that they're broke and homeless and well, time travelers, Mom! Isn't that just so cool?" Dawn started bouncing a little. "Come on."
Max, not one for begging, began to look slightly uncomfortable. Logan tried to focus the attention on himself a little. "If it'll be too much trouble, Max and I can always find a motel to stay in or somewhere. We do have a little money on us, and-"
"No," Joyce interrupted. "You can stay here. I was just a little surprised by the request. I've always expected that when my girls brought home a couple strays, it might be more along the lines of a turtle or cat, not a couple of people."
A slow grin began to creep across Max's face. Joyce couldn't help but notice that it transformed her hardened look into one of, well, unusual beauty. "Stray might not be too far off base. At least in my case," Max said.
Logan tried not to react at the truth in that statement. Instead, he tried to continue the part of gracious guest. "Hopefully, we'll only be here for a few days. But we insist on helping pay for our board while we're around."
Joyce shook her head, "That's not really necessary."
It was Logan's turn to grin, as he figured he was about to get himself smacked. "Again, I insist. It's only fair… especially with the way Max eats. Which is constantly."
From the dirty look that Max shot him, he knew he was in trouble. But instead of a physical attack, she chose the verbal route. "Well, since you're obviously so concerned about my nutrition, you can make dinner for us all tomorrow night. If we're still here," she added hastily.
Logan nodded, not upset at all that she volunteered him. "That's perfectly fine with me. I love to cook."
Joyce, Buffy, and Dawn's jaws all dropped slightly. "You cook?" they chorused.
"He cooks," Max nodded proudly.
Dawn, tactless as usual, exclaimed, "Guys don't cook!"
Joyce looked really impressed. Then her brain began to run the logistics of adding two houseguests. "Well, we don't really have a guest bedroom on this floor, but I can set up something for the two of you to be together in here."
Max and Logan both jerked straight so quickly it started the Summers women. Their smiles left their faces as words of protest began to ring out. "Oh, we're not…uh… I mean… our relationship isn't…we're just friends… Just friends, that's right…" came pouring from the two of them.
Although Joyce realized what her faux pas was, she felt the vehemence of their reaction was a little unusual. "Well, I guess we can set up Logan on the couch in here. I'm sorry it's not a pullout."
"That's not really a problem," he told her.
"And Max…" Joyce hesitated. Not only did they not have a guest bedroom on the main floor, they didn't have one in the rest of the house either.
"Oh, I could actually just sleep out in the hall or something," Max told her, not really wanting to be trouble. And if the living room was indicative of the rest of the house, sleeping in the hall could be sheer joy.
"You're not sleeping in the hall," Dawn told Max forcefully. She then turned to her mother and said just as forcefully, "Mom, she's not sleeping in the hall. She's going to sleep in my room." She turned back to Max and grabbed her hand, half-pulling half-dragging her up the stairs. "Come on, I'll show it to you." Max barely had time to give Logan an amused look before she was out of sight.
Buffy and Joyce stared after the two girls and turned back to Logan. "I'll go get some pillows and other linens from the basement," Joyce told them.
"Actually, if you could show me the restroom first, I'd appreciate it," Logan said.
Joyce nodded slowly, "We do have a restroom off the garage. There's a small shower in it, too, but I don't know if…" She trailed off, unsure at how to phrase her concerns.
Logan just swayed his chair side to side a little. He said, "Why don't I just take a look at it and see if there's anything I need." Joyce led him there, and then started to head down to the basement.
Buffy quickly followed her. As soon as they were sure they were out of earshot, Joyce turned to Buffy and asked, "What is really going on here? Time travelers?"
Buffy shrugged innocently. "Yeah. That's what it is. Willow was working on a spell to grab me and Giles, but… well, you know how Willow's spells go. It got a little lost and grabbed a couple of people from 2020 instead. We were trying to figure out what to do with them when Dawn volunteered us to keep them." An odd look, one that might have been called confusion with a touch of jealousy, came over her face. "I think she thinks Max is cool."
"She does, does she?" Joyce asked, understanding Buffy completely.
"I think it's because Max liked her shirt. Whatever. Probably Dawn Mood-of-the-Moment."
Joyce grabbed a couple pillows and sheets off a shelf, and turned back to her daughter. "Obviously you gave them the OK because you brought them here."
Buffy nodded. "They seem fine. But, Mom," her voice took on a serious note, "I didn't tell them anything about the whole 'Slayer-Key-Hellmouth' thing. Just because I trust them doesn't mean I trust them."
"Of course, dear," Joyce said. "Don't forget to get out the company plates." She started to walk back up the stairs when she stopped and turned back slightly. "I thought I told Dawn not to wear that shirt to school anymore."
Buffy rolled her eyes and reached up to the shelf where the "good plates" lived. "You asked. You didn't tell," she mimicked her sister, then followed her Mom upstairs.
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Dawn led Max to her bedroom. She reached the door and held the knob with a dramatic stance. "This—" she paused for effect "—is where you'll be staying." She flung open the door.
Max walked in slowly, taking in the full effect of the room. It was a pretty place, the stuff of dreams. Not Max's dreams, though. She'd never known to dream of such places. It was soft and friendly. It spoke of that mystical place between childhood and adulthood. Max wasn't sure she'd ever actually been a child. Never a normal one at least. But she could tell by the well cared for possessions – stuffed animals, pillows and curtains of gentle colors, slightly worn furniture – that Dawn had been a child that had been loved.
As Dawn watched Max wander around the room, the girl couldn't help but notice the slightly awed look as the woman ran her fingers over the things Dawn had been collecting for years. It was almost as if it were the first time she'd seen some of the things. Max's words came back to her: terrorists… electromagnetic pulse…economic chaos… everything's fucked. Dawn wasn't quite sure what "electromagnetic pulse" meant, but by the very "unhappy" word she used, and the looks on everyone else's faces, it was probably all pretty bad. She thought that maybe she could be able to get Max to tell her a little more about it, since she didn't seem quite as uptight and censorshippish as Buffy and her friends. But before she could ask anything, she saw Max run a hand lightly over a row of singed and burned notebooks stacked on a shelf. Dawn cringed.
Max paused in her perusal of the room, and turned to Dawn. "Have a few troubles here?"
Dawn sighed to herself and looked down at her hands. Here was yet another person who wanted to know about her life, which was what the notebooks – her diaries – had amounted to at one point in time. Years and years of carefully kept memories… composed in what had turned out to be only six months. Dawn felt like she wanted to just scream "I'm a freak!" so the whole world could hear and leave her alone. She wanted to tell Max that she was a mystical Key some old monks put together to hide from a skanky God who wanted to open something. But as much as she wanted to pour out her troubles, and as much as she thought Max had to be uberly awesome to at least get her shirt, Dawn didn't really know her. And she'd had Buffy rattle on in her ear so often that she needed to be careful that it had finally kind of sunk in.
Dawn sighed again and sat on the edge of her bed. She looked up at Max, prepared to give some kind of brush off reply, when she stopped. She found herself looking at a gaze that was devoid of judgment, and full of sympathy, if not a little understanding. So Dawn began to talk. "Those are my journals. I used to keep them for like ever. But… well... recently some rough stuff has come up. I don't really want to talk about it."
"Okay," Max simply said and sat next to Dawn.
Dawn looked at her closely. "I mean, I really don't want to talk about it."
"Okay," Max repeated.
Dawn couldn't believe that Max wasn't going to prod, pull, and pry the story out of her. Anymore, if she blinked the wrong way her Mom and Buffy were all over her, wanting to know what her problem was. So she opened up a little more. "I just… well. It was like I felt like everything I'd thought I was turned out to be a lie. And to see those lies… it was too much." She looked at Max, almost afraid to ask. Afraid her new friend would for some reason decide to run away from her. "Have you ever felt that way?"
Max's eyes grew distant for a moment before she replied. "Every time I look in a mirror." Her eyes refocused on Dawn, and Dawn could see the truth in that statement.
Dawn knew that Max was uberly awesome.
They sat in silence, both thinking of a lifetime of events, however close or far away. But both were somehow comforted by the feeling that they weren't alone. They stayed that way until they were called for dinner.
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Buffy tried to just set the table and not think of how it was actually Dawn's turn to set it that night. Dawn was being a good host and entertaining. Quietly. Way too quietly. She tried to ignore the paranoia that had set in regarding her younger sister. Glory's not the type to destroy in silence. She'd want the world to watch her magnificence… especially me. The way Buffy figured, Dawn was probably thrilled that she'd gotten someone new to jabber at. Even though there was a big age difference between the 14 year old and the… Buffy frowned. Yet one more thing she didn't know about her guests. She figured Max really couldn't be much older than herself. Although, if she wanted to be really accurate, Max was way younger than all of them. Well, whatever the age difference, she and Dawn seemed to click somehow.
And the same thing with Mom and Logan, Buffy thought as she heard some laughter from the kitchen. When he had heard that Joyce worked in an art gallery, their conversation had swiftly turned to painters and sculptors and art… things. Whatever two people could say about art. It could have been worse, though. Max and Logan could have been boring, dull, unfriendly people. Or school principals. Buffy was sure she should be happy that Joyce and Dawn finally had people to talk to, especially since neither really seemed to have much of a social outlet.
She quickly finished up the table as the sound of voices increased and Joyce and Logan came into the room. "Mmm. Smells yummy, Mom," Buffy told her as she set a large plate of pork chops on the table. Logan set out a bowl of salad and moved to the place where Buffy had removed a chair.
As Joyce started to go back to the kitchen, she said, "Buffy, would you mind getting Dawn and Max while I go get the green beans and potatoes?"
Buffy leaned out the other door of the dining room and yelled up the stairs, "Dawn! Max! Dinner!" She turned to see her mother standing there shaking her head. "What?"
"I meant go get them, not use the Emergency Broadcast System," Joyce chided. Buffy shrugged and took the place next to the head of the table where her mom usually sat. The sound of footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Dawn and Max appeared. Dawn took a seat next to Buffy, and Max sat next to Logan. Joyce picked up the plate of pork chops and passed it to Max, who accepted it with wide eyed gratitude. "It's nothing fancy," Joyce said.
"But somewhat hearty, with an eye toward being well-balanced and healthy," Buffy added with a slight smirk.
Joyce narrowed her eyes playfully at her eldest. "It's nice to know you think so highly of my meals."
"Oh, God, this is amazing," Max said around a mouthful of pork chop. She took the bowl of potatoes as it was passed to her and placed a big helping on her plate. She quickly scooped up a bite, and gave a slight moan of appreciation.
Seeing three pairs of eyes staring at Max's exuberance, Logan felt compelled to explain, "It's kind of hard to get really good food where we're from. The occasional chicken, maybe, but almost never pork."
"And never pork this good," Max finished, reaching for the salad.
Knowing Joyce hadn't really been privy to Max's halfhearted description of the future, Buffy mentioned, "Economic breakdown must make it hard to get good things, huh?" She tried not to stare, but Max had already managed to clean nearly half of her plate. Logan must not have been joking about his Max and eating comment.
Max shrugged and speared a piece of lettuce. "Hard to get food, period, for a lot of people."
A silence fell over the table, only broken by the sound of silverware chiming against plates. Joyce finally decided to try to get conversation going again. "So, what do the two of you do for a living?"
Logan swallowed his bite of pork chop. Although he didn't show Max's… enthusiasm… for the meal, he did think it had a large lead over quality of post-Pulse food. "I'm kind of a… freelance journalist," he told her. "I work on exposing corruption."
Joyce blinked a couple of times, and then looked at Max. "Do you do the same?"
Max almost choked on a green bean. "Hardly. I'm a bike messenger for a lame-ass business. He just manages to con me into doing a little leg work from time to time."
"He does?" Dawn asked innocently. "How?"
Max raised another green bean with her fork in a kind of toast. "Food. A bowl of pasta will buy my services for a couple hours." She tried her best not to laugh as Logan, Joyce, and Buffy all blushed slightly with the caught innuendo. Dawn, however, just nodded sagely as the double entendre sailed straight over her head.
Then both entendres paused mid-flight. Exchanged dubious glances. Shrugged. And reversed course. When they came up behind the oblivious teenager and tapped her on the shoulder, her eyes went wide with sudden understanding. She ducked her head to hide the color creeping up her cheeks, and wished that Keys had the power to turn invisible.
"So, Dawn, how was school today?" Joyce asked, deciding to turn the topic to the mundane.
Still half-listening to the conversation with one multitasking ear, Max switched most of her attention to her food. Or at least tried to. But as she looked at her quickly dwindling second helping of potatoes, she felt like she was being watched. She tried to look at everyone surreptitiously, but she saw they were all occupied with a tale of Dawn's locker being stuck – a situation Max was often familiar with. Then she saw what was watching her.
A family portrait hung innocuously on the wall. Dawn, Buffy, and Joyce all were in it primly seated. Their clothing was immaculate, their hair was shining, and all three had sunny smiles of content and harmony. The perfect family. And, from the picture, they seemed to be staring at Max. She squirmed slightly in her seat and really tried to pay attention to the food.
A perfect dinner. Something from the meat group, a couple veggies, a starch. Max took a small, quick swig from her glass of milk – dairy. All that was missing was the—
Joyce almost leaped from her seat. "I left the rolls in the kitchen!" She quickly returned with a basket of perfect, golden rolls.
Bread group, Max sighed to herself, and started pushing around some of the crumbs on her plate. Perfect crumbs, of course. She heard Logan laugh a little as Buffy mentioned a similar locker tale from her high school days, involving a couple friends of hers. The same perfect looking friends she saw earlier that day, no doubt. And probably a perfect high school… Max fidgeted around a little more. All she could see was a perfect picture of a perfect family who happened to be having the perfect conversation around the perfect dinner in the perfect house located in a perfect town.
It was slowly driving her mad.
Logan noticed that Max had grown very quiet. At first he had thought she had simply gotten absorbed in her meal. But watching her for a minute, he soon realized that she, as usual, had her full attention on everything and everyone. As he watched, he noticed her slowly finish up what had been on her plate, and start to play with the crumbs. She shifted and moved restlessly. When she briefly looked in his direction, he caught an odd look in her eyes, as though she were only three steps from snapping. He wasn't sure what the problem was, but knew it was time for a little intervention. Seeing that everyone had about finished up, he turned to Max and asked, "Would you be interested in going for a little walk? Before it starts to get too dark out?"
Max was honestly relieved that Logan noticed her twitching and offered a way out. But she wasn't going to admit that in front of everyone. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"
The three Summers ladies looked at each other quickly before Buffy warned, "Just try be careful if you stay out too long past sunset. You might want to stick near here."
Max and Logan glanced at each other before Max asked, "Why?"
Buffy looked at Dawn with a slight panic. She didn't want to tell the strangers that the undead like to walk Sunnydale at night, but—
"Unfortunately, Sunnydale has been developing a little bit of a crime problem. You know, as in small town gangs," Joyce said smoothly.
"Yeah, crime," Buffy echoed, thankful that her mom could be so cool and calm while lying through her teeth. Although, from Max's brief wary look, she wasn't sure if the lie was completely accepted. She saw Max start to pick up her plate and volunteered, "You guys go ahead. Dawn and I can clear the table.
Logan smiled his thanks, and within a few minutes, they were gone.
The air seemed to clear a little as Buffy, Dawn, and Joyce relaxed from the pressure of houseguests. They were picking up plates and silverware when Joyce commented offhand, "You know, Max kind of reminds me a little of Faith."
Buffy almost dropped the potato remnants she was holding. "Faith. As in Faith, the oh so loveable yet slightly psychotic vampire slayer? Why do you say that?"
Joyce shrugged. "I don't know. Something about the way she looks I guess."
"And the way she eats," Dawn laughed. "Do you remember when Faith kept swiping Buffy's fries? That bugged Buffy more than anything."
Buffy was a little irritated when her mom joined in the laughter. "This isn't pick on Buffy night. Besides I didn't notice anything really wrong with her. Other than… what kind of girl's name is Max?"
Dawn looked at her sister. "What kind of name is Buffy?" she defended.
"Shut up."
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It was pleasantly warm for an early February evening. Logan didn't really feel the need for a jacket, especially since he didn't have one with him. He glanced over at Max and thought that with or without the jacket, the temperature wouldn't have mattered much to her. Training or design, or both, had probably equipped her with a high tolerance to her environment. Irrelevant or not, it was still a great place to begin an uncomfortable conversation. "Nice weather here," Logan mentioned to Max.
She shrugged, and said, "I guess." Max didn't look at Logan, just kept up the slow pace.
"Not too cold… more tepid," he pointed out, trying to get her to talk a little more.
"I guess," was the same silent response.
Logan sighed inwardly. This was going to be a long walk if 'I guess' was all she would say. He gave his wheels another slight push, and tried to ignore how exhausted he was. If they were back in Seattle, he probably would have been asleep… he tried to do the mental math and failed. He would have been asleep way long before. Again, not something that would have mattered much to Max. Still, as he could feel her beginning to relax a bit, he decided the exhaustion was worth it. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, when Max spoke first.
"This is what you're trying to do, isn't it," she stated, first motioning at the neighborhood and then looking down at him.
Logan knew that even if his brain wasn't sleep deprived, that statement wouldn't have made much sense. "Trying to do what?" he asked.
"With Eyes Only. This is what you're looking for, isn't it?" She slowed her walk even more and examined the neighborhood a little closer. With dusk falling, her night vision was beginning to kick in, giving the shadows a type of clarity that she knew no one else could see. "Is this what's left when you boil the corruption away? Clean streets, homes for all?"
"Some yes," Logan said cautiously. Only a little, actually, but that was a different point for a different day. The silence between them resumed, and this time, Logan was content to leave it as such. Max would talk when she was ready. For now, he decided to enjoy the nice evening, and the simple event of her companionship.
"I feel like I'm trying to escape Manticore again," Max whispered suddenly.
Logan's head whipped around to look at her in mild astonishment. Whatever he had been expecting her to say, that certainly wasn't it. Max was looking off into the distance, mostly at nothing, he presumed, and she was rubbing her arms as if to ward off a chill. Or perhaps distant demons. "What do you mean?"
She stopped walking, and turned to look at him. Her dark eyes looked disturbed, almost haunted. "I'm not going to pretend I completely understand how our world works. All I know is that, when I was younger, no matter how messed up things got, I knew my place… my purpose. When things got really messed up, and we had to leave, that all changed. I was out in some strange place I had never even known existed. And you don't… you can't understand how frightening that was. We were taught to adapt to situations, but it was always to situations we were taught. We were never taught about the outside world. The normal outside world. I got used to it, but… Logan, I'm right back where I've started. And I have to learn how to live again, this time in a perfect world in a perfect house with the perfect family. God, I feel like they've got the other half a kid stashed somewhere to bring out for the really special occasions."
Logan thought carefully before replying. What to say to calm a person whose fears were real? Except… they weren't. And that was the place to begin. "Manticore doesn't exist, Max." When she opened her mouth in protest, he shook his head and quickly continued. "I know that it's there, has been around for a while now, but not in the way you know it. It's all tucked away in Wyoming right now and has no clue you exist. As a matter of fact, you're probably safer now than you have ever been in your entire life. For once, no one is looking for you. Yeah, you've got to be careful, to make sure you don't come up on anyone's radar. But you don't have to run anymore."
"I guess you're right," Max said.
Logan cupped a hand to his ear, "I'm what? Can you repeat that?"
Max swatted him on the shoulder playfully, and the air between them lifted. "I know you heard me the first time. I'm not going to say it again."
He flashed her a grin, and started moving again. "And about the Summers' family… they seem to be a genuinely nice group of people. Don't worry too much about them seeming too perfect. After all, it's those that seem the most perfect that tend to have the biggest skeletons in their closets."
Max unsuccessfully tried to hold back a laugh. "Don't I know it."
"Just… try not to over-think this all too much. You've got the start of several long nights ahead of you here, and it'll be bad on your brain if you spend every night stewing about it all. Just give yourself the chance to be that normal girl with the normal life that you've always wanted, at least for a few days." Logan saw her smile and they finished their walk in a comfortable silence.
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Buffy stepped out onto her front porch and inhaled deeply. Night had fallen. She was ready to slay. She was up for kicking some vampire butt. She was…
Oh, wait. She was supposed to be playing normal.
Well, crap.
It was so habitual for her to just go out most nights to patrol that she'd completely forgotten about their visitors for a second. She stood there for several long moments, debating whether she would be able to patrol for an eensy little bit, or whether she should stay in for the evening. There was a swift tug of war between her conscience, which wanted to keep the world safe, and her need to keep up her façade.
Buffy sighed, and sat down on the steps. She jabbed the stake she'd brought out with her into the ground. The world would just have to watch out for itself for a night. Right now, she could pretend she was just out for air.
"Missed me," a British voice resonated.
"Ack!" Buffy half leaped out of her skin as a peroxide blond stepped out from the shadows. "Geez, Spike. Would you mind cutting it with the creepage already?"
The vampire moved with a swish of his long leather coat. He sat down next to her, about as close as he could get without being in her lap. He couldn't help but smirk at her as her lip curled and she tried to scoot away a bit. "Sorry, but the creep is part of the whole package. Right behind the pointy fangs and lack of pulse." He noticed Buffy seemed a little perturbed, as though she would rather be anywhere else at that moment. "So, why aren't you out trying to give my kind a good poke or two?"
"Would you like me to start with you?" Buffy asked innocently.
"Would I?" Spike leered.
"Ugh, Can you be any more disgusting?" Her nose wrinkled and her eyes squinted as she tried force the unwanted image from her mind. "And anyway, we've got company."
"Company?" Spike eyebrows lifted; the small scar across the left one seemed to pull a bit as they moved. "Great-auntie Gertie's got on your nerves enough that you needed to come out here for a spell?"
Buffy had to smile at that. "Not family type. Total stranger type."
Spike's face seemed to darken, become more dangerous. "You're out here staking evil undead earthworms while the Bit is inside alone with the unknowns? Are you daft?"
"She's fine, Spike." Buffy couldn't help but think that it was comforting he was still looking out for Dawn. "Max and Logan are staying with us for a few days, because Willow tried a new spell and—"
Spike waved her off. "The Witch botched again, eh? What's she now, 0 for 2?" He shook his ruefully. "Where're they from that they need a rest spot?"
Buffy looked at him, "2020."
"Niiiice," Spike said. "Managed to bungle not just space, but time as well? Sounds like a first for her. Better throw a party."
"Spike…" Buffy warned.
He ignored her. "So why they staying here if it was Willow's fault?"
Buffy stood and stretched a bit. Spike stood as well, and they both walked down the steps and up the sidewalk a bit. "They're here because of Dawn. Dawn met Max, seemed to take a real liking to her, and volunteered our place as home base."
"Her?" Spike gave Buffy an odd look. "Max and Logan. I thought you were talking two blokes. Not a bloke and a bint. What's 'Max' stand for?"
Buffy snorted and shrugged. "Hell if I know. The way she says it, I really don't think it stands for anything. And Max definitely isn't your average b— girl."
"Hmm. Can't wait to meet 'em. When you going to introduce me?" He walked back towards the house and tried to peep in the windows.
"Never, if I have any say about it. I think the normal family image would be a little ruined by the undead blood-sucker constantly hanging around in my shadow. Will you get away from there? They're not home right now," Buffy informed him.
"No? Where then?"
"They went for a walk," Buffy said, beginning to look concerned. "Except… they left right after dinner, and it's full dark now. They've been gone way too long." She put a hand to her chest and took a shaky breath. "Oh, God. They've been eaten."
Spike rolled his eyes. "They have not."
"Yes, they have. I let them go out alone and now they're rotting in some demon's stomach." Buffy started to pace a bit.
Spike grabbed her arm to stop her, "They've not been eaten."
"Okay, bitten then." Buffy looked worried. "Or they've been slimed. They've been zombiedized. That's it! Zombiedized! This minute, they're—"
"Headed this way," Spike finished, grabbing her by both arms and turning her so she could see the pair coming down the road.
Buffy relaxed visibly, and then tensed again just as quickly. She gave her shoulders a wrenching twist, and then spun to look at him. "Spike, get lost!"
"What?"
"Hide!"
"I'm not hiding. You can just introduce us good and proper, O Normal One." He smiled at her glare and barely resisted the impulse to torture her a little by throwing an arm around her. So he just put a hand on her shoulder instead and smiled at the two people coming towards them.
Buffy would have staked him then and there if Max and Logan weren't so close. But she just gritted her teeth and smiled as Max and Logan came up to them. She reached up to her shoulder, as though she were going to pat his hand, and quickly dug her nails into his flesh. Her smile became a little broader when she heard his quick grunt of pain as he quickly pulled his hand away. "Have a nice walk?" she asked.
Max nodded as Logan smiled and said, "Very nice. It's a lovely neighborhood."
Buffy looked at Spike and said, "Spike, these are our visitors I was telling you about, Max and Logan. Max, Logan, this is a good friend of mine, Spike."
As Spike reached to shake Logan's hand in greeting, he couldn't help but be slightly awed by the introduction. Not just friend, but good friend. And said without any trace of sarcasm. Almost as though she meant it, he thought. "Nice to meet you. I just stopped by to see if Buffy wanted to go for a late night cuppa, but she told me she needed to be sociable and such." He turned to the woman, and felt a small chill crawl up his spine as he locked eyes with her. "What's Max short for?" he asked.
"It's short for Max," she said curtly.
And so that answered that question.
Buffy looked at Logan and told him, "Mom and Dawn were conspiring together after you left. They decided they're going to take the two of you shopping tomorrow, so you don't have to live in the same clothes while you're stuck here. Dawn says you can repay them by adding a dessert to tomorrow night's menu."
Logan couldn't help but laugh. "We do have a little cash, but the ride will be appreciated." He looked at Max out of the corner of his eye, noticing she was still staring at Spike. Her stance was completely ridged, almost like a snake coiled to strike. He looked at Buffy again, but kept Max in his periphery. "And dessert would be great." Seeing Max somehow manage to tense a little more, he turned his head to look at her. She had kept her arms in front over her chest. Maybe she just doesn't like the guy staring at her, noticing that Spike's gaze hadn't broken, either. Then, in the dim light from the porch, he noticed something else. The short hairs on her arms were all standing on end.
Buffy noticed Logan trying to take quick glances at Max, before finally turning his head completely to look at her. When he continued to look, and seemed to become concerned, Buffy looked at Max. Max's lithe frame was completely stiff, as though she were tensed for a fight. And the way she kept staring at Spike…
Buffy turned to look at Spike. He was staring at Max. Which Buffy really didn't think was too strange, considering Max was a fairly pretty woman. Or beautiful. And even though Spike just happened to be dead, he was still a guy. With guy thoughts. And guy parts. And… ew. But he wasn't exactly looking at her. Call me slow on the uptake, but something weird is going on here.
Logan couldn't help but think the same thing. And to have another incident like the one earlier with Anya was not something Logan was interested in after one of the longest days in his life. So he gently placed a hand at the small of Max's back, and waited until she looked at him. "I'm exhausted," he told her truthfully. "Why don't we head on in and try to get some sleep?" She nodded, and with parting glance to Spike, she turned. Logan looked at Spike and said, "It was nice meeting you" and followed her inside.
The mood now broken, Buffy looked at Spike. "What the hell was all that about?"
Spike took a deep breath. Or acted like he did, since "breathing" wasn't actually something he did. "The girl's not what she seems," he said, glancing at the door, to make sure they were completely gone.
Buffy snorted. "Come on, Spike. It usually takes a little more than four words to come to that conclusion." The she saw that his face completely lacked a trace of the usual snideness. "You're serious. Max really wigged you out. Why?"
Spike looked uncomfortable. "Not quite sure why." He seemed to shake it off. "I'd get back in there with the fam, if I were you, since Normal Buffy wouldn't be hanging out here with the likes of me." He turned and began to walk away.
Buffy called after, "Abnormal Buffy wouldn't either."
He turned and smiled. But before he disappeared into the shadows, the smile fell and Buffy heard him say, "I'd keep a close watch on that girl. There's something not quite right about her." And he was gone.
Buffy stared at the darkness, trying to figure out what exactly had happened between everyone in such a short time. Suddenly, a tiny thought flitted across her brain. It was so absurdly obvious, Buffy wondered why she hadn't considered it before. Small clues and events began to add up to evidence. From an athletic physique to a near fight with a demon. From a passing comment by her mom to a freaked out vampire. And why had Giles and Buffy been replaced specifically by Max and Logan?
No. No way. There is no way Max could be a Slayer.
Is there?
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