Dawn rolled over onto her right side, closing her eyes tightly and
trying to relax herself to sleep. It wasn't working, and hadn't been
for last four hours, but she was trying anyway. She hadn't slept at
night for years now, and she didn't like the idea that it was just
another thing that was going to have to change now that she was back.
She rolled onto her left side, found it to be even less comfortable, then half-rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. She didn't want to do this the rest of the night. She didn't want to do this the rest of the week. And she really didn't want to do this at all.
With a sigh, she threw off her covers and sat up, letting her feet fall to the ground, almost right into her slippers. She slid her feet all the way into them and stood up, grabbing her hoodie from the chair new her bed and slipping it on.
Tip-toeing down the stairs, through the dining room and into the kitchen, she found it a little difficult to keep her slippers from making an annoying swishy noise when she walked. The house was so quiet that anytime she made a sound it almost echoed.
As she reached for the basement door she could only hope it didn't still creek, but as she pulled it towards her, slowly and steadily, she let out a deep breath at its silence. It was kind of ridiculous, though, that she was sneaking around her own house. She owned it in a legal sense more than anyone else here, with her mother and sister gone. Of course, that didn't change the fact that it had been her first instinct to sneak as apposed to just going where she pleased, and as she'd made her way through the house, that urge hadn't seemed particularly wrong.
"Spike," she whispered as she came to the bottom of the stairs. Moonlight shown through the windows, leaving the room blue but dim. She saw the bed that had been made up for Spike, but it was dishelved and empty, no doubt a similar look to her own at that moment. Her eyes found his bag, which was opened and looked as though it had been mulled through a little.
He didn't like many places in this town, in fact, she was sure he didn't like any. But there were definitly degrees of hate, and the one place she could think of which might rank the least dis-liked on his personal Zaget's Guide to Sunnydale would be his former abode.
Dawn left the house without a peep, taking any shortcuts she could remember to the graveyard. She didn't rush herself, she found a comfort in the night and wasn't at all phased by the idea that she was walking atop a Hellmouth. She and Spike had stopped in Rekyavik a while back, there'd been another one there, and it wasn't as if she hadn't lived on this one before. It was also a sign of a quiet night when she hadn't seen Faith go out on patrol.
The street lights were pretty bright, and it wasn't difficult to see the crypt as she entered the graveyard. She made her way towards it, walking around the graves, trying not to step directly on any since she kind of felt it was disrespectful and more than one mystic had told her it meant bad luck.
She knocked lightly on the door to the crypt, and, hearing no answer, she pushed the door open. "Spike?"
The room was dark and apparently empty. It looked much the same as it did when they'd left, though she wasn't sure how Spike had managed to keep it that way without being there to kick out any squatters. Dawn found a candle and tried to light it using a spell she'd learned when they went to Alaska. Of course, she'd only been able to do it without the herbs once or twice, and it had been quite some time since she'd attempted it, so despite her efforts, the room remained un-lit.
She walked over to the cave entrance on the floor, kneeling door to look at some pictures and papers strewn across there. It was hard to make them out without any light, but most were of Buffy, drawings and letters and things.
As she went to pick up another paper, she heard a click coming from just behind her head. She turned, only to see a crossbow not two inches from her nose, and she screamed.
Spike would've loved to have a shot. A nice Wisky, something that would burn on the way down. He didn't know why he'd gone in the first place, he just couldn't sit in that bloody basement any longer. His choice of re-location, however, was not the best. If he was trying to escape the house because of its reminders of the dead, than visiting her grave wasn't going to help. Maybe he still wondered about his little visions, the occasional apparition of that petite blonde he'd never been able to shake, maybe he really did think, somewhere deep in that heart that didn't beat, he thought it was really her. On the other hand, maybe he was damn sure it wasn't, and he craved something tangible to remind him that she was forever out of reach. Maybe he was looking for a way to let her go.
Whatever his motivation, it hadn't accomplished much. He'd mainly just made a mockery of himself, talking to headstone, asking for her to tell him what to do. He didn't want to stay in Sunnydale. He didn't want to be there for the next few minutes, let alone days or anything longer, but he wasn't sure he could leave. He didn't want to leave Dawn. Not that he didn't think she was safe, Faith had the brawn, everyone else could deal with anything that didn't involve violence. He wasn't even sure if it was about her, or if he was just being selfish. It would be healthier, more normal and comfortable for her to stay, he guessed, but he would rather go back to what they were then leave her here.
He made his way into the house and up the stairs into Dawn's room, employing that uncanny ability to move without the slightest noise that even the clumsiest vampires could manage.
He sat down in the chair near her bed without even a glance at the room, simply lost in his own thoughts. After letting out a huffed breath, he look over to her bed, only to find it empty. He looked down the hallway, but the bathroom door was open, no one was in there. Attempting to be logical, he thought of any place in the house that he hadn't been by since coming inside, but he knew he hadn't seen her, and there wasn't anywhere or any reason she might want to hide.
He got up out of the chair, went out of the room and burst through Faith's door. "She's missing." He flipped the light on as Faith sat up groggily. "Get up!"
He repeated his actions in Giles room, trying to maintain a bit of composure so as not to seem like some frantic mum. He went downstairs to the weapons cabinet, pulling out an axe or two while Giles and Faith stumbled out of bed and down the stairs.
"Why don't we calm down for a second before going off into the night," Giles said, closing the cabinet, "We might want to formulate some kind of plan of action."
"I've got a plan," Spike said, taking his axe and heading for the door, "I got out there, and I find her." He opened the door. Waiting just outside was Oz, holding a crossbow and standing next to a very familiar eighteen-year-old girl.
"Hi," Oz said, walking past Spike and into the living room.
"Where the hell have you been?" Spike asked Dawn, yelling a little.
"I was looking for you," she replied, walking inside as Spike closed the door.
Spike couldn't really scold her for that, considering he was gearing up to do the same on a larger scale, and he didn't want to get into a debate with her over the fact that she wasn't a child anymore, so they both followed the others into the living room.
"What brings you back," Faith asked, sitting down in the comfey chair facing the couch. Giles stood near Faith, and Spike and Dawn stayed in the doorway.
"I was just in L.A. running some ancient Summerian by Wes." He sat down opposite Faith and set his crossbow on the floor in front of him after unloading it. He had the same lacksidaisical air Spike remembered about him. He didn't know how long it had been since Oz was in Sunnydale, only what he heard from Dawn when she filled him in on the info she got from her occaisional phone calls to homebase. He spent most of his time on what Spike would call a wild goose chase.
"I've got a lead." He seemed enthused, if one could attach that expression to the stoic werewolf, "a shaman I found in the Rockies, he uh, he didn't speak any English, but he may know where she is. I left the tape with Wes, he's going to call here when he's finished translating."
"You think Willow's here?" Giles asked, confused and a little concerned.
"Every shaman and seer I've seen in the last six months points to energies they're feeling from the Hellmouth," Oz replied, "this is the first time I've gotten more than one person sending me in the same direction, so it's possible."
Spike tried to feel a little bit of uneeze at the mention of the idea that Willow might be coming for a visit. The last look he'd seen on her face was one of the most terrifying things he'd every witnessed, even out of some of his own misdeads. She had been pure power, and for a few seconds he could see in her eyes the traces of prescience. That's when she'd given him back his soul. She'd told him he'd need it, and he'd never known what she meant. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
"I think we all had better get some sleep," Giles broke a silence that no one had seemed to notice as it formed. Spike looked at Dawn who was rolling her eyes. They didn't want to sleep. "I'll just make something up for you on the couch, if you don't mind."
Oz nodded an affirmative.
The weary group parted. Giles, Faith and Oz to sleep; Spike and Dawn to toss and turn.
She rolled onto her left side, found it to be even less comfortable, then half-rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. She didn't want to do this the rest of the night. She didn't want to do this the rest of the week. And she really didn't want to do this at all.
With a sigh, she threw off her covers and sat up, letting her feet fall to the ground, almost right into her slippers. She slid her feet all the way into them and stood up, grabbing her hoodie from the chair new her bed and slipping it on.
Tip-toeing down the stairs, through the dining room and into the kitchen, she found it a little difficult to keep her slippers from making an annoying swishy noise when she walked. The house was so quiet that anytime she made a sound it almost echoed.
As she reached for the basement door she could only hope it didn't still creek, but as she pulled it towards her, slowly and steadily, she let out a deep breath at its silence. It was kind of ridiculous, though, that she was sneaking around her own house. She owned it in a legal sense more than anyone else here, with her mother and sister gone. Of course, that didn't change the fact that it had been her first instinct to sneak as apposed to just going where she pleased, and as she'd made her way through the house, that urge hadn't seemed particularly wrong.
"Spike," she whispered as she came to the bottom of the stairs. Moonlight shown through the windows, leaving the room blue but dim. She saw the bed that had been made up for Spike, but it was dishelved and empty, no doubt a similar look to her own at that moment. Her eyes found his bag, which was opened and looked as though it had been mulled through a little.
He didn't like many places in this town, in fact, she was sure he didn't like any. But there were definitly degrees of hate, and the one place she could think of which might rank the least dis-liked on his personal Zaget's Guide to Sunnydale would be his former abode.
Dawn left the house without a peep, taking any shortcuts she could remember to the graveyard. She didn't rush herself, she found a comfort in the night and wasn't at all phased by the idea that she was walking atop a Hellmouth. She and Spike had stopped in Rekyavik a while back, there'd been another one there, and it wasn't as if she hadn't lived on this one before. It was also a sign of a quiet night when she hadn't seen Faith go out on patrol.
The street lights were pretty bright, and it wasn't difficult to see the crypt as she entered the graveyard. She made her way towards it, walking around the graves, trying not to step directly on any since she kind of felt it was disrespectful and more than one mystic had told her it meant bad luck.
She knocked lightly on the door to the crypt, and, hearing no answer, she pushed the door open. "Spike?"
The room was dark and apparently empty. It looked much the same as it did when they'd left, though she wasn't sure how Spike had managed to keep it that way without being there to kick out any squatters. Dawn found a candle and tried to light it using a spell she'd learned when they went to Alaska. Of course, she'd only been able to do it without the herbs once or twice, and it had been quite some time since she'd attempted it, so despite her efforts, the room remained un-lit.
She walked over to the cave entrance on the floor, kneeling door to look at some pictures and papers strewn across there. It was hard to make them out without any light, but most were of Buffy, drawings and letters and things.
As she went to pick up another paper, she heard a click coming from just behind her head. She turned, only to see a crossbow not two inches from her nose, and she screamed.
Spike would've loved to have a shot. A nice Wisky, something that would burn on the way down. He didn't know why he'd gone in the first place, he just couldn't sit in that bloody basement any longer. His choice of re-location, however, was not the best. If he was trying to escape the house because of its reminders of the dead, than visiting her grave wasn't going to help. Maybe he still wondered about his little visions, the occasional apparition of that petite blonde he'd never been able to shake, maybe he really did think, somewhere deep in that heart that didn't beat, he thought it was really her. On the other hand, maybe he was damn sure it wasn't, and he craved something tangible to remind him that she was forever out of reach. Maybe he was looking for a way to let her go.
Whatever his motivation, it hadn't accomplished much. He'd mainly just made a mockery of himself, talking to headstone, asking for her to tell him what to do. He didn't want to stay in Sunnydale. He didn't want to be there for the next few minutes, let alone days or anything longer, but he wasn't sure he could leave. He didn't want to leave Dawn. Not that he didn't think she was safe, Faith had the brawn, everyone else could deal with anything that didn't involve violence. He wasn't even sure if it was about her, or if he was just being selfish. It would be healthier, more normal and comfortable for her to stay, he guessed, but he would rather go back to what they were then leave her here.
He made his way into the house and up the stairs into Dawn's room, employing that uncanny ability to move without the slightest noise that even the clumsiest vampires could manage.
He sat down in the chair near her bed without even a glance at the room, simply lost in his own thoughts. After letting out a huffed breath, he look over to her bed, only to find it empty. He looked down the hallway, but the bathroom door was open, no one was in there. Attempting to be logical, he thought of any place in the house that he hadn't been by since coming inside, but he knew he hadn't seen her, and there wasn't anywhere or any reason she might want to hide.
He got up out of the chair, went out of the room and burst through Faith's door. "She's missing." He flipped the light on as Faith sat up groggily. "Get up!"
He repeated his actions in Giles room, trying to maintain a bit of composure so as not to seem like some frantic mum. He went downstairs to the weapons cabinet, pulling out an axe or two while Giles and Faith stumbled out of bed and down the stairs.
"Why don't we calm down for a second before going off into the night," Giles said, closing the cabinet, "We might want to formulate some kind of plan of action."
"I've got a plan," Spike said, taking his axe and heading for the door, "I got out there, and I find her." He opened the door. Waiting just outside was Oz, holding a crossbow and standing next to a very familiar eighteen-year-old girl.
"Hi," Oz said, walking past Spike and into the living room.
"Where the hell have you been?" Spike asked Dawn, yelling a little.
"I was looking for you," she replied, walking inside as Spike closed the door.
Spike couldn't really scold her for that, considering he was gearing up to do the same on a larger scale, and he didn't want to get into a debate with her over the fact that she wasn't a child anymore, so they both followed the others into the living room.
"What brings you back," Faith asked, sitting down in the comfey chair facing the couch. Giles stood near Faith, and Spike and Dawn stayed in the doorway.
"I was just in L.A. running some ancient Summerian by Wes." He sat down opposite Faith and set his crossbow on the floor in front of him after unloading it. He had the same lacksidaisical air Spike remembered about him. He didn't know how long it had been since Oz was in Sunnydale, only what he heard from Dawn when she filled him in on the info she got from her occaisional phone calls to homebase. He spent most of his time on what Spike would call a wild goose chase.
"I've got a lead." He seemed enthused, if one could attach that expression to the stoic werewolf, "a shaman I found in the Rockies, he uh, he didn't speak any English, but he may know where she is. I left the tape with Wes, he's going to call here when he's finished translating."
"You think Willow's here?" Giles asked, confused and a little concerned.
"Every shaman and seer I've seen in the last six months points to energies they're feeling from the Hellmouth," Oz replied, "this is the first time I've gotten more than one person sending me in the same direction, so it's possible."
Spike tried to feel a little bit of uneeze at the mention of the idea that Willow might be coming for a visit. The last look he'd seen on her face was one of the most terrifying things he'd every witnessed, even out of some of his own misdeads. She had been pure power, and for a few seconds he could see in her eyes the traces of prescience. That's when she'd given him back his soul. She'd told him he'd need it, and he'd never known what she meant. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
"I think we all had better get some sleep," Giles broke a silence that no one had seemed to notice as it formed. Spike looked at Dawn who was rolling her eyes. They didn't want to sleep. "I'll just make something up for you on the couch, if you don't mind."
Oz nodded an affirmative.
The weary group parted. Giles, Faith and Oz to sleep; Spike and Dawn to toss and turn.