Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews of the last chappy – please run back and read the end again though, I had forgotten to add the last section to the prologue. And then scurry back here and read on to chapter one – or Buffy will get lonely and lay the Slayer Smackdown and you:-D
And Miles to Go Before I Sleep
Chapter One
She had been fine until Paris.
Buffy Summers sat cuddled in one of the over-sized armchairs before the Library's fire-grate. A mug of coco sat wrapped in her petite hands, its memories more than its chocolate a source of comfort in the gloom. A mound of textbooks and aging scrolls sat temporarily abandoned on the desk behind her, their unsympathetic pages oblivious to her tortured mind.
They never had made it to Cleveland. After meeting with Angel in L.A., the gang had set up a temporarily newly-called-Slayer-support-headquarters in the acquired offices of Wolfram and Heart. How exactly her ex-boyfriend had taken command of those offices was a matter of much explanation at first, but once stories were exchanged the two groups melded together with much less fuss than Buffy would have expected. Using Wolfram and Heart's almost-unlimited resources, the much-dimutive Scooby Gang had advertised their expertise to young women all over the world. Many had flocked to the L.A. office, and an entire floor – including three wings and four bathrooms – had been taken over by the newly-awakened Slayers. They had learned history first, most notably who they were and why they were important, and then had been separated into teams and taken to be trained.
The most amazing thing about it was how little work had fallen onto her shoulders. Faith had really stepped up to the plate, with Robin Wood at her side the entire time, and Xander had been almost single-minded in his renovation plan for the floor. Willow, Kennedy, and that cute brown haired girl – Fred – had dedicated themselves to establishing the new Division of Slayer Services (and writing the contract up thereof), while Giles and Weasley (could she say grown-up-and-found-the-Darkness?) threw themselves into the mess that was the Watcher's Council.
Hard work and lots of clever computer something-or-another had revealed the Council had several offices across Europe besides the main Headquarters that had been destroyed by the First Evil. None quite as large as that in England, but all including at least two fully-trained-but-inexperienced Watchers. Each site was sent an invitation to L.A., and most had accepted. With all central leadership gone, many of the newly minted Watchers needed the reassurance of someone older and more knowledgeable then they. Giles was often that one.
However someone still needed to visit the often out-of-the-way Council Quarters, talk with those Watchers who could not or would not travel to L.A., and search for young Slayers still unaware of their burgeoning powers. Buffy had volunteered to be that someone.
It had been an easy decision, really. There was nothing tying her to California any more. Willow was fine with Fred and Kennedy, Xander was hurting – badly – but had committed himself to finishing the planned renovations on the Wolfram and Heart offices. Giles was up to his neck in paperwork she could barely understand, and Angel was brooding again. Because Spike was dead and Buffy, in her own way, mourned him.
Angel had felt it when his gran-childe died. He had almost launched over to Buffy when their bedraggled group stumbled in his front door, and she could read the pain and loss in his eyes better than anyone there. He felt pride – a Father's pride – when Buffy explained what Spike had done. But nothing could change the fact that he was dead, and that Angel felt he should have died in his place.
It was a stupid notion, and Buffy tried to tell him so. But there was only one person who could drag Angel from his thoughts when he was brooding, and she was still lying in a coma in the most equipped hospital money could buy.
Buffy and Willow had visited Cordelia once, long enough for Willow to determine that Cordelia was alive, simply … not there right now. They tried to reassure themselves that she was somewhere else, resting and healing, but no one could say when – or if – she would return.
And so L.A. for Buffy had been a confusing place, where Angel brooded and Fred giggled, Wesley smiled and that green-skinned demon that gave Buffy the wiggings simply sang. The only person she really felt comfortable talking to was the battle-ready Gunn, but his attention had been soon captured by the fleet of Slayers arriving in L.A. There was no Spike to keep her on her verbal toes, no tree-lined graveyards to give her peace, and no rest from the ever-present, ever-grumbling and giggling Slayers who wanted – but no longer needed – her aid.
And so she had left. She had run away as she always did, and no one tried to stop her this time. No one, that was, but one.
L.A. had been good to Dawn, at least at first. The entire city was a distraction from the loss of the only home she had ever known, and she had gotten on well with Fred, and Wesley too. But as the offices began to fill with Slayers and people were absorbed into their own separate projects, Buffy would watch as Dawn strayed again and again to the windows, and would notice when Dawn's head would whip around at a crowded shopping mall, searching for that glimpse of a peroxide-bleached head.
Buffy knew her sister had suffered bad as she had at the end of Sunnydale – worse actually, because there had been words spoken between her and Spike that had never been taken back. Dawn and Spike had shared a summer, a bond of loss, that Buffy could never understand. That friendship had been badly shaken when Buffy and Spike began their ill-fated relationship, and Spike's breach of trust had severed whatever last threads had tied them together. And she had never, not during the whole year after he came back, forgiven him for what he had tried to do.
Still, Buffy knew traveling to find newly awakened Slayers wasn't going to be a walk in the preverbal park. They would be dealing with demons never before encountered, with what backup scared and distrustful Awakens could produce. Besides that there was school and life to consider – and Dawn, in Buffy's opinion, deserved both.
But Dawn disagreed, arguing that it was summer anyways and her life was her own, and Giles had backed her up. In the end Buffy, for all her stubbornness, was too tried and worn out to fight. She just wanted to leave, and if Dawn wished to come with her then fine – she would send her home on a third-class flight the first moment she could.
For the first few days of traveling, then, the two sisters refused to speak to each other, Buffy giving orders in short snapping sentences and Dawn boiling while they still set foot on North American soil. But soon as they settled into Peru, Dawn had stopped listening to her older sister, and Buffy muttered dark things about untrained tag-alongs. Things stood at the breaking point until the air fairly crackled between them, and on the morning of the fourth day, when Buffy awoke to see Dawn sharpening the edge of a locally-purchased dagger, all gloves had come off.
They screamed at each other until their faces turned blue and every occupied room around them emptied, they laughed with each other about all the inappropriate comments Anya had made, and they cried together as only sisters could. They remembered and they mourned and they missed all those who had left them too soon. Anya, who had practically been a sister-in-law, and Joyce, their mother; Tara, their friend; and Spike, their something-extra. Dawn had mourned Buffy all over again, remembering how terrible it had been without her, and Buffy had held her sister close and cried with the unrestrained fear of losing her, a terror revealed in far too many close calls. They hadn't left the hotel until six that evening, and only then for pizza with extra cheese and pepperoni. It had been a time of needed bonding, and it had drawn them closer together than ever.
And then she had been fine until Paris.
They had arrived at the City a month ago now, looking for the third Council Quarters on their list. They had found the brick-red building easily enough – considering neither girl spoke two sentences of understandable French – and had met with the friendly-but-frightened Council members before the sun had set. Those Slayers that had already been found by the Watchers were introduced next, and the five girls greeted Buffy with welcomes that varied from respectful admiration to unrestrained anger. They were common enough responses, and Buffy had spent the next few weeks working with the girls. Training and a gradual creation of trust helped to smooth the rough edges, and nightly trips to the various Paris graveyards fostered a sense of earned respect all around.
That was when Dawn began acting oddly.
Actually as Buffy thought about it, curled as she was before the fire in the small but elegant Council Library, the episodes had started weeks before that. Small instances Buffy could remember only when she thought about them, moments of uncharacteristic forgetfulness and confusion in a sister that was inherently smarter than Buffy would ever be. But the episodes had not been many until they had arrived in France from South America. Then her sister began missing evening meals, and Buffy would find her sitting on her bed, staring into space with a frightening blank look on her young face. At first she would rouse when called, but lately even calling her name could do nothing to snap her out of it. Buffy had to pick her up and shake her last night, frightened that her sister was having some sort of stroke. Maybe these things ran in families, maybe she would lose her sister like she lost her mother, maybe she would call Dawn one day to find her sprawled out on her bed, her eyes open and unseeing, gone – gone to where she could not follow, like so many others …
Buffy had rushed her sister to the hospital, but as before Dawn insisted nothing was wrong. She never remembered being lost in space, and would laughingly declare that Buffy was becoming paranoid. Even when she grudgingly agreed to visit a hospital, the doctors could find nothing wrong. Magical scans had also turned up negative, but then magical scans weren't always reliable when Dawn was involved. A side-effect of the whole 'mystical key' thing, Willow had once explained.
Buffy had finally talked to Giles, who had suggested a few books to read and promised to do research on his own. But he couldn't think of much else to do, and also expressed concern over Buffy's ability to remain neutral when reporting 'odd occurrences' involving her sister. She was, after all, notoriously over-protective.
But she had not been imaging things. Something was seriously wrong with Dawn. And was she going to find out what that something was.
Buffy had taken to spending her nights prowling around the Library. She found those texts Giles had suggested, and struggled to beat her mind through them. But most went over her head, and Buffy often missed Willow and Xander in those moments. The three of them had a way of conquering – or at least laughing over – any dusty old text.
Things were almost wrapped up here in Paris now. Buffy had been planning on tackling Britain next – she had left that trip until later because she had a feeling it would be a doozy – but now she wasn't sure what to do. A few of the texts she had struggled through seemed to hint at what might be wrong with Dawn, and she had emailed Willow the titles and page numbers only a half-hour ago. Willow had promised to get in contact with Giles and share the information. He should be calling her back any minute now, and Buffy desperately hoped he would have good news.
She had already lost a mother, and too many friends – she would not lose her sister next.
Hey guys! Hope you went back and read the extra bit added onto the prologue – don't know if you've noticed but I've been fiddling with the titles. Ghah – the one thing I never ever remember to decide beforehand!
Hope you liked this chapter – lots of paragraphs, I know, but things needed explaining. In case you were wondering about the timing, this chapter is set in the summer after season 7 of BtVS and before HBP. Over the next few chapters I'll thread this storyline through Harry's 6th and oh-so-eventful year, and then continue on to year 7. (I know – I'm too ambitious by half, its little wonder I play a Slytherin on an on-line RPG!)
Again – please review!
--raiining