The next morning, Dawn wasn't feeling as comfortable around Elisabeth as before. She still had her cheery manner, but Dawn was still wary.
Mrs Elderberry had asked Dawn if she wanted anything because she would go shopping that morning.
"Cereals?" Dawn proposed, twirling her spoon around in the warm porridge which had been prepared for her. "Jam? And could you get some ham for my lunch sandwiches, please?" She'd looked warily at the soup the older woman had been preparing while Dawn had tried to eat her breakfast.
"Certainly, dear," she replied with a smile. "Anything else?"
"Mmm.... And hygienic pads." Sometimes Dawn wondered why the monks hadn't made her boy, life would be so much easier...
"Of course."
While waiting for the bus, Dawn planned out her day, she would start searching for a telephone box immediately. She had ten dollars in her pocket and she would do anything to be able to hear Buffy.
Dawn caught the bus rather satisfied about the morning's start (at least she'd sorted out the porridge situation for crying out loud!). She was sitting down next to the window looking at the streets already busy as they passed by, when something rather unpleasant occurred at the next stop.
Dawn looked up as the bus became suddenly silent. Walking down the isle was a tall girl, seeming rather large, garbed all in black. Many piercing ornamented her ears, her nose and lip, and a spiky necklace was tight around her neck. Her eyes shifted side to side as she approached the end of the bus, her lap dog (a snotty, acne skinny Goth boy) following behind her when she stopped at Dawn's seat.
"Clear the place, Twinkie," she said menacingly addressing herself to Dawn.
Dawn just looked up, mouth agape. Her mind yelled at her that 'this' wasn't happening. It was the only the second day at school and she was about to crawl out of the seat and give it to the Goth, or tell her something unpleasant and get probably mugged the next time she would cross her path.
Dawn looked around, there was no other seat about. Biting her lip, she stood up and slowly retreated for the large Goth to sit down. She smirked at Dawn as the poor Slayer's sister was obliged to stand up the rest of the trip, most eyes turned toward her, and a couple of smirks for her attention.
¤¤¤¤
When Dawn finally got out, she was infuriated, people were going to call her a chicken. She should have yelled at the Goth, tell her to go and get f*****. But wasn't like herself to swear, she just wanted to phone, and things would get normal again; she would probably hang out with her friends, pass words in class, get back home, see Tara, maybe Buffy (she'd been pretty occupied lately) and go by the Magic Box. But no, Dawn is the Key, the Slayer's sister. Tara's dead and Dawn isn't in Sunnydale anymore.
Dawn walked up to the entrance of Hemery, she knew it was a pretty dumb move if she wanted to skip school, but it lifted her spirits when she thought about all she would missing. Of course, the Elderberries would be called up to tell that Dawn wasn't present in school, but Buffy was much more important.
Dawn quickly marched away, not glancing back once. If she had to do this, she had to do it properly. There was maybe a phone box in school, but she needed to give Buffy a clear and comprehensive message, not one covered by noise, quickly said because someone behind you wanted to call too.
Dawn finally arrived to a petrol station where, to her delight, she saw a public telephone. She skipped urgently towards it and picked up the receiver to only find out miserably that there was no tonality. Dawn glared at it and wondered if she should knock it against the wall, but finally hung it back up.
"Ok!" Dawn did a false cheer and decided to enter the petrol station's boutique.
There was a couple of customers, looking grim (being eight in the morning). Dawn looked around but found no other phone, so she queued at the cash desk to ask the women there.
Waiting there, she took a better look at the customers.
A bony woman with high cheek bones seemed to be raiding the toilet paper. A grungy guy was rubbing his eyelids, buying a packet of cigarettes and coffee, not a healthy combination, Dawn thought to herself. Behind was a man in his forties with a bag of hot chilly peppers (the small ones and all dried out) and was actually taking a couple in one go and eating them.
When Dawn arrived in front of the cashier, she asked her if it was possible to call someone here. She might have been foreign for she just shook her head, probably because she couldn't even understand.
Dawn sighted, leaving the place without have contacted Buffy yet, and continued her way without really knowing where she was heading (it seemed like the houses went on for ever, the high and shinny business buildings seeming so far away). It was going to be a long day.
¤¤¤
Connor walked down the corridor, alert to any suspicious movement. He would suddenly tense up at the pop of a chewing-gum, the slam of a locker, or even a cry of joy. He would leave his head down, his eyes hidden by the bangs of hair from where he could watch without gaining too much attention, and would walk slumped, seeming relaxed, bluffing the potential attackers.
It was a continuos search for dangers, the mind always awake.
It was the second break of the day and Connor was heading for his locker, but found it already open, and empty. He grabbed the door and inspected it, there was a faint smell of eau de cologne and strawberry chewing-gum.
Closing the locker carefully he went in search for the thief.
The "black" man had told Connor that he was like a machine. Connor had frowned, machines, was he used by someone?
"You walk aimlessly," Gunn had said. "Going about with the same thing in mind: revenge, kill the demons, find the threat. It's all ya do! Change the disc, man!"
Connor hadn't understood the last bit, but Gunn had said he needed to change...
Connor stopped in his tracks, he'd just found a fresh trail of the scent. He turned right.
Change, "Go to school!" he'd said. "Those things can become deadly useful! I regret sometimes leaving..."
"Deadly useful" was the only thing that Connor had heard, and had asked where he could find "School".
School had turned out as a place swarming with humans, young humans. They could smell frightened, pleased, threatening all at once, it was quite disconcerting.
For the first time that day, Connor looked up and directly looked at the person whose smell he'd been following.
They were "footballers" and scared most of the school's population. They all wore black and green jackets with a hawk drawn on the back. They were taller and stronger than most, but this didn't bother Connor, he was faster and stronger, physically and mind wise. He dropped his head back down and walked towards the group of footballers like any other pupil. But just when he passed by, he pounced, throwing the guy with the eau the cologne smell against the lockers.
The other footballers backed away just an instant, before they started flexing their muscles and circling around Connor like some scavengers.
Connor recognised the guy that he'd pushed, Greg Masters, he'd been in his class, before Connor had been put in a lower level because of his lack of knowledge of the crazed world he was now living in.
Before Greg could get his wits back, Connor seized his neck and lifted him up against the lockers.
"Where are my things?" he asked coolly lifting his head towards his "prey".
One of Greg's clique tried to punch Connor in the ribs, the boy managed to catch the approaching fist in his free hand and turned it violently, sending the attacker cringing on the floor, holding his now broken wrist in pain.
A crowd started to form around the scene, the more daring cheering for the footballers
Connor turned his attention back the guy he was holding up. He could have killed him, but the lousy human was just no challenge.
"It was Cheryl Freud's idea," he croaked. "She has them."
Connor let go of Greg who put his hand to his neck as he gasped for air.
"Where is she?" he asked.
The footballer pointed in the direction of a girl, his age, with carrot hair. She was actually watching them with a grin.
Connor groaned, it wasn't the first time he had to deal with Cheryl. Knowing her, she'd dared Greg to steal Connor's stuff and had placed a bet somewhere in all the process, probably winning it in the end.
He walked up to her and looked at her in the eyes. She didn't flinch, instead her smile only widened. Gunn had said it wasn't good hitting girls, Connor didn't know why. However, he had tried to refrain himself the three last times he had been in the presence of Cheryl, but weirdly, he didn't really want to hit her anymore.
"Looking for this?" Cheryl asked, brown eyes sparkling, handing Connor his books.
He took them without protest without taking his gaze off the girl.
"There's about ten dollars in your Maths book," she said and started leaving. "Your share," she added.
Connor knew it was stupid, but he caught her up.
"What was the bet?" he asked. It was always this way, in some strange manner she would manage to make money out of something Connor would do.
"That you would pick a fight before eleven o'clock," she announced still with a smug smile looking at her watch. Connor had never figured out how the clocks with hands worked, he only had an electronic one with red glowing numbers and the one on his beeper he had chucked not so long ago.
Connor stopped and looked at her continue her way. The girl was smart and dangerous, and without the muscle part. Connor decided to be ever more careful.
Neither of them saw Greg Masters glare dangerously at them. Footballers never like to be used as pawns out of field, and lose.
¤¤¤
I have never, myself gone to La (I'm in France, but my parents and my sis used to live there). However I've seen pictures and the Angel tv-show (but they are kind of nearer to the centre of LA than where I'm placing Hemery, near the fairly nice individual houses (Hank Summers, I think is rather healthy, so he wouldn't have put Buffy in a not too bad school, close to the 'nice' euh... living area..)) So, I picture LA as this immense city with healthy families one side, the not too well healthy families another (these two being with a rather big mall), then there's the brick buildings (with smaller groceries and shops), then the inner city with a 'bad' part and the commercial (big shops, clothes and other...) business part. It's so hard to visualise, you know, I being in France, I suppose everything is a tid bit smaller (LA might be as big as one of our 'regions' with several 'departments' inside, and that my friend, to me, is BIG), then there is the tourist part, the beach, the skyscrapers...
Well I shouldn't ramble on. Just REVIEW. And tell me about LA, when I have the money, I'll certainly be travelling.
And don't worry, Evita22, I'll try to continue this! :p
Ah, in you have any suggestions, or personal opinions about who Connor is actually (mind wise). Would he react as I wrote him? However, this is fanfiction, so I can always try turn things my way, if it is overdone, tell me. I could have put CHeryl into a boy, but I didn't want Connor be really able to hurt the guy..
Mrs Elderberry had asked Dawn if she wanted anything because she would go shopping that morning.
"Cereals?" Dawn proposed, twirling her spoon around in the warm porridge which had been prepared for her. "Jam? And could you get some ham for my lunch sandwiches, please?" She'd looked warily at the soup the older woman had been preparing while Dawn had tried to eat her breakfast.
"Certainly, dear," she replied with a smile. "Anything else?"
"Mmm.... And hygienic pads." Sometimes Dawn wondered why the monks hadn't made her boy, life would be so much easier...
"Of course."
While waiting for the bus, Dawn planned out her day, she would start searching for a telephone box immediately. She had ten dollars in her pocket and she would do anything to be able to hear Buffy.
Dawn caught the bus rather satisfied about the morning's start (at least she'd sorted out the porridge situation for crying out loud!). She was sitting down next to the window looking at the streets already busy as they passed by, when something rather unpleasant occurred at the next stop.
Dawn looked up as the bus became suddenly silent. Walking down the isle was a tall girl, seeming rather large, garbed all in black. Many piercing ornamented her ears, her nose and lip, and a spiky necklace was tight around her neck. Her eyes shifted side to side as she approached the end of the bus, her lap dog (a snotty, acne skinny Goth boy) following behind her when she stopped at Dawn's seat.
"Clear the place, Twinkie," she said menacingly addressing herself to Dawn.
Dawn just looked up, mouth agape. Her mind yelled at her that 'this' wasn't happening. It was the only the second day at school and she was about to crawl out of the seat and give it to the Goth, or tell her something unpleasant and get probably mugged the next time she would cross her path.
Dawn looked around, there was no other seat about. Biting her lip, she stood up and slowly retreated for the large Goth to sit down. She smirked at Dawn as the poor Slayer's sister was obliged to stand up the rest of the trip, most eyes turned toward her, and a couple of smirks for her attention.
¤¤¤¤
When Dawn finally got out, she was infuriated, people were going to call her a chicken. She should have yelled at the Goth, tell her to go and get f*****. But wasn't like herself to swear, she just wanted to phone, and things would get normal again; she would probably hang out with her friends, pass words in class, get back home, see Tara, maybe Buffy (she'd been pretty occupied lately) and go by the Magic Box. But no, Dawn is the Key, the Slayer's sister. Tara's dead and Dawn isn't in Sunnydale anymore.
Dawn walked up to the entrance of Hemery, she knew it was a pretty dumb move if she wanted to skip school, but it lifted her spirits when she thought about all she would missing. Of course, the Elderberries would be called up to tell that Dawn wasn't present in school, but Buffy was much more important.
Dawn quickly marched away, not glancing back once. If she had to do this, she had to do it properly. There was maybe a phone box in school, but she needed to give Buffy a clear and comprehensive message, not one covered by noise, quickly said because someone behind you wanted to call too.
Dawn finally arrived to a petrol station where, to her delight, she saw a public telephone. She skipped urgently towards it and picked up the receiver to only find out miserably that there was no tonality. Dawn glared at it and wondered if she should knock it against the wall, but finally hung it back up.
"Ok!" Dawn did a false cheer and decided to enter the petrol station's boutique.
There was a couple of customers, looking grim (being eight in the morning). Dawn looked around but found no other phone, so she queued at the cash desk to ask the women there.
Waiting there, she took a better look at the customers.
A bony woman with high cheek bones seemed to be raiding the toilet paper. A grungy guy was rubbing his eyelids, buying a packet of cigarettes and coffee, not a healthy combination, Dawn thought to herself. Behind was a man in his forties with a bag of hot chilly peppers (the small ones and all dried out) and was actually taking a couple in one go and eating them.
When Dawn arrived in front of the cashier, she asked her if it was possible to call someone here. She might have been foreign for she just shook her head, probably because she couldn't even understand.
Dawn sighted, leaving the place without have contacted Buffy yet, and continued her way without really knowing where she was heading (it seemed like the houses went on for ever, the high and shinny business buildings seeming so far away). It was going to be a long day.
¤¤¤
Connor walked down the corridor, alert to any suspicious movement. He would suddenly tense up at the pop of a chewing-gum, the slam of a locker, or even a cry of joy. He would leave his head down, his eyes hidden by the bangs of hair from where he could watch without gaining too much attention, and would walk slumped, seeming relaxed, bluffing the potential attackers.
It was a continuos search for dangers, the mind always awake.
It was the second break of the day and Connor was heading for his locker, but found it already open, and empty. He grabbed the door and inspected it, there was a faint smell of eau de cologne and strawberry chewing-gum.
Closing the locker carefully he went in search for the thief.
The "black" man had told Connor that he was like a machine. Connor had frowned, machines, was he used by someone?
"You walk aimlessly," Gunn had said. "Going about with the same thing in mind: revenge, kill the demons, find the threat. It's all ya do! Change the disc, man!"
Connor hadn't understood the last bit, but Gunn had said he needed to change...
Connor stopped in his tracks, he'd just found a fresh trail of the scent. He turned right.
Change, "Go to school!" he'd said. "Those things can become deadly useful! I regret sometimes leaving..."
"Deadly useful" was the only thing that Connor had heard, and had asked where he could find "School".
School had turned out as a place swarming with humans, young humans. They could smell frightened, pleased, threatening all at once, it was quite disconcerting.
For the first time that day, Connor looked up and directly looked at the person whose smell he'd been following.
They were "footballers" and scared most of the school's population. They all wore black and green jackets with a hawk drawn on the back. They were taller and stronger than most, but this didn't bother Connor, he was faster and stronger, physically and mind wise. He dropped his head back down and walked towards the group of footballers like any other pupil. But just when he passed by, he pounced, throwing the guy with the eau the cologne smell against the lockers.
The other footballers backed away just an instant, before they started flexing their muscles and circling around Connor like some scavengers.
Connor recognised the guy that he'd pushed, Greg Masters, he'd been in his class, before Connor had been put in a lower level because of his lack of knowledge of the crazed world he was now living in.
Before Greg could get his wits back, Connor seized his neck and lifted him up against the lockers.
"Where are my things?" he asked coolly lifting his head towards his "prey".
One of Greg's clique tried to punch Connor in the ribs, the boy managed to catch the approaching fist in his free hand and turned it violently, sending the attacker cringing on the floor, holding his now broken wrist in pain.
A crowd started to form around the scene, the more daring cheering for the footballers
Connor turned his attention back the guy he was holding up. He could have killed him, but the lousy human was just no challenge.
"It was Cheryl Freud's idea," he croaked. "She has them."
Connor let go of Greg who put his hand to his neck as he gasped for air.
"Where is she?" he asked.
The footballer pointed in the direction of a girl, his age, with carrot hair. She was actually watching them with a grin.
Connor groaned, it wasn't the first time he had to deal with Cheryl. Knowing her, she'd dared Greg to steal Connor's stuff and had placed a bet somewhere in all the process, probably winning it in the end.
He walked up to her and looked at her in the eyes. She didn't flinch, instead her smile only widened. Gunn had said it wasn't good hitting girls, Connor didn't know why. However, he had tried to refrain himself the three last times he had been in the presence of Cheryl, but weirdly, he didn't really want to hit her anymore.
"Looking for this?" Cheryl asked, brown eyes sparkling, handing Connor his books.
He took them without protest without taking his gaze off the girl.
"There's about ten dollars in your Maths book," she said and started leaving. "Your share," she added.
Connor knew it was stupid, but he caught her up.
"What was the bet?" he asked. It was always this way, in some strange manner she would manage to make money out of something Connor would do.
"That you would pick a fight before eleven o'clock," she announced still with a smug smile looking at her watch. Connor had never figured out how the clocks with hands worked, he only had an electronic one with red glowing numbers and the one on his beeper he had chucked not so long ago.
Connor stopped and looked at her continue her way. The girl was smart and dangerous, and without the muscle part. Connor decided to be ever more careful.
Neither of them saw Greg Masters glare dangerously at them. Footballers never like to be used as pawns out of field, and lose.
¤¤¤
I have never, myself gone to La (I'm in France, but my parents and my sis used to live there). However I've seen pictures and the Angel tv-show (but they are kind of nearer to the centre of LA than where I'm placing Hemery, near the fairly nice individual houses (Hank Summers, I think is rather healthy, so he wouldn't have put Buffy in a not too bad school, close to the 'nice' euh... living area..)) So, I picture LA as this immense city with healthy families one side, the not too well healthy families another (these two being with a rather big mall), then there's the brick buildings (with smaller groceries and shops), then the inner city with a 'bad' part and the commercial (big shops, clothes and other...) business part. It's so hard to visualise, you know, I being in France, I suppose everything is a tid bit smaller (LA might be as big as one of our 'regions' with several 'departments' inside, and that my friend, to me, is BIG), then there is the tourist part, the beach, the skyscrapers...
Well I shouldn't ramble on. Just REVIEW. And tell me about LA, when I have the money, I'll certainly be travelling.
And don't worry, Evita22, I'll try to continue this! :p
Ah, in you have any suggestions, or personal opinions about who Connor is actually (mind wise). Would he react as I wrote him? However, this is fanfiction, so I can always try turn things my way, if it is overdone, tell me. I could have put CHeryl into a boy, but I didn't want Connor be really able to hurt the guy..