Chapter Six
In the cool evening, Spike crouched down at the root of the oak by the crypt of Hans Vordidt. He inhaled deeply. He touched the ground and brought his dusty fingers to his nose. "She was here alright. And looks like she bagged herself a baddie." He wiped the dust from his hands. "But she didn't leave alone. Smells like a vamp followed her."
"Can you track them?" Buffy asked, glancing around the cemetery with suspicion.
"I tracked her here, didn't I?" He said defensively.
"Then let's go," Buffy insisted.
"You go on ahead," Giles frowned at the crypt. "I'd like to see what she was up to here."
"Or we could find her and ask her," Buffy argued, starting to follow Spike as he walked away, past the oak tree.
"One does not come to Los Angeles to wander the cemetery," Giles said reasonably. "If we can discover why she came here, we may be able to deduce where she will go next."
"Buffy," Willow agreed, "I think Giles is right. You guys go on ahead, we'll do some snooping here. Who knows," she shrugged, "we may find her first."
Xander nodded. "I'll stay too, you two don't need an extra pair of nostrils, but these guys might need an extra pair of hands."
Buffy shrugged. "Fine, you can catch up to us later. You know my cell phone number." She dashed off after Spike who was walking confidently down the path into the darkness.
Giles lit his flashlight and started into the crypt, followed by Xander and Willow.
Dawn stood at the airport counter.
"I'm afraid you'd normally have to book a seat in advance," the woman was saying. "But I can check to see if we have any cancellations." She tapped away at her computer keyboard. "What was your destination?"
"New Orleans," Dawn answered. She was fingering Buffy's credit card, nervously. Since she wasn't traveling out of country, she hoped they wouldn't ask for any kind of ID she didn't have.
"No, I'm sorry, I'm afraid... wait a minute," she frowned, looking at her computer screen. She tapped a few keys, and Dawn tensed to run. "Here we go. A seat just opened up." She took Dawn's card and then handed her the receipt to sign. Dawn signed her practiced Buffy Anne Summers signature and took the ticket the woman offered her.
Dawn walked through customs without a problem, her wooden stake not setting off the metal detector, and she had nothing but carry-on, her alternate outfit scrunched tightly at the bottom of her new hand bag.
As she handed the ticket to the guard at the terminal entrance, she overheard the same woman arguing with another customer.
"I'm sorry sir," she was saying, "it says here you just cancelled your ticket. I've already given your seat away." The man was now becoming very vocal, but Dawn walked down the corridor, out of earshot.
"Flight six seventeen, Los Angeles to New Orleans, last call," a voice over the intercom informed the terminal as Dawn entered the plane, looking to her ticket and finding her seat. As she stashed her bag in the cubby above her seat and sat down, a man sat down in the seat across the isle from her.
"Buffy is going to be so mad at you," he said, a small smirk on his face.
Dawn jumped, "Angel!" She quickly hushed her voice. "What are you doing here!" She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed them. She regained her composure and ground her teeth. "Did Buffy send you to babysit?"
"Buffy doesn't know I'm here," he answered, keeping the smirk.
There was pause during which Dawn's irritation melted away. "Are you going to tell her?"
"Not if you don't want me to," he sighed, turning to indicate the Fasten Seatbelts light. Dawn did so. Angel did not.
"Then why are you here?" She asked, suspicion growing in her mind again.
"To make sure you get a chance to find what you're looking for."
"You know about that?" She said, skeptically. "I didn't tell anyone why I was here."
"You didn't have to. I..." his mouth twisted embarrassed, "I picked up your scent when you came to L.A. That cemetery was one of my usual haunts." He lowered his voice further. "Nice job, by the way, with that vampire."
"I don't need your protection," she answered flatly.
"You do need my help, though," he smirked. "Who do you think it was who cancelled the ticket for the seat you're sitting in?"
Dawn paused for a moment. "Fine." She said, a little resentfully. "So you're here to 'help' me. What am I going to do when the oracle in New Orleans goes kaput like the one here?"
"It might not. D'Orsine is a good oracle. She may be able to help you."
Dawn looked straight into the vampire's eyes. "Why are you doing this?" She asked, all honesty and seriousness in her voice.
He sighed. "I don't know what happened to you, but you wouldn't run away from Sunnydale looking for oracles unless you were looking for one particular thing. One thing you couldn't find anywhere else." He put a consoling hand on her shoulder. "I know what it feels like: not being sure."
"I'm pretty sure, now," she replied, dejectedly.
"Don't count yourself out too quickly. You're unique. Anything that couldn't predict your creation can't be counted on to predict your future."
She nodded, gratitude in her eyes. "Thanks," she tried a weak smile. "You know that eventually, I'm going to have to do this on my own."
"Of course," he nodded, giving her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "But until then, I know some people in New Orleans who will help you. This sort of thing doesn't happen to just anyone. You can't sweep it under the rug with comforting words."
"Exactly," Dawn nodded. The weight of what she meant to do sank into her. Angel understood. "And you're right," she added solemnly. He glanced at her for clarification. "Buffy's going to kill me."
He eyed her and cracked a smile. Just then, the seatbelt light blinked off. "What do you know? We're airborne."
Giles picked up a shard of the shattered oracle illuminated by his flashlight. He eyed it carefully. "Well," he said at last, "I'm afraid I can't think of anything off hand that would cause an oracle to explode, aside from smashing it with some kind of hammer."
"Something tells me the Dawnster didn't come all the way to L.A. to pick a fight with a statue," Xander eyed the fragments. "I mean, we've got statues in Sunnydale, why not obliterate those?"
"Maybe she had a grudge," Will suggested.
"Well," Giles continued, "at least we can conclude with some certainty that she learned something of importance. And whoever or whatever destroyed the oracle, made certain no one else would find out what that was."
"It's an old fashioned conspiracy," Xander said with mock astonishment. "I bet the government destroyed the oracle, to hide the fact that they go around destroying oracles for kicks!"
"...Perhaps," Giles responded at last.
Spike strolled up the steps of the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels.
"You're sure she came in here?" Buffy was saying as Spike burst through the door with a loud kick.
"The nose..." he began, then thought better of it, "yes, I'm sure."
They walked through the narthex and down a hall with rooms on either side. Spike rounded a corner and entered the last office. It was dark and lined with shelves of books.
Spike stopped just inside the entrance and Buffy passed him, stopping when her toe struck something soft.
"Two bodies," Spike informed her in the darkness, "an old geezer and a younger bloke, both men. Strangled to death less than twelve hours ago, I'd say."
"And Dawn was here?" Buffy asked, quietly.
"Yeah, about the same time." He paused. "And there was someone else. A human fellow, he was here about the same time too. He left alive, though."
"We find him," Buffy turned and walked out past Spike, "we find Dawn."
The flight to New Orleans took three hours and was spent without much discussion. Angel seemed content to sit and stare towards the front of the plane, and Dawn to gaze out the window as the tiny lights of sleepy cities passed under them.
Finally, in a sudden breaking of the silence, the Fasten Seatbelts indicator clinked on again. "Good morning, travelers, this is the captain speaking," a voice said over the intercom. "We will be landing in New Orleans shortly, please fasten your seatbelts and put your seat backs and tray tables in their upright and locked positions. Thank you."
"A car'll be waiting for us when we get there," Angel said simply, neglecting to fasten his seat belt as Dawn did hers.
She paused. "Why are you doing all this?" The quiet question hung there as the plane began its descent.
"No ulterior motives," he defended, "it happens to be very important to me and mine that you find what you're looking for."
"Are you sure you're not doing this for Buffy?" Dawn asked, a trace of resentfulness in her voice. She stared straight ahead. She was used to men, especially demonic men 'helping' her in order to gain favor with Buffy.
When there was no response for what Dawn decided was the appropriate amount of time, she sighed. "You're just like Spike."
"Hey," Angel almost snarled. "I came here to help you. You. Not Buffy. I have no intention of telling Buffy where you are, or even what you're doing, if you don't want me to. No one, no one" he took her shoulder again, "can understand like us."
Except maybe Spike, she thought but kept it to herself. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "I'm not used to anyone going to so much trouble for me."
"You're unique," Angel answered simply.
"I wish everyone would stop saying that!" She said with surprising anger. "You say it like it's a compliment. I don't want to be unique. I want to be normal!"
"Dawn," Angel said gently, sympathetically, "you're not a freak."
She grated her teeth and said nothing.
They landed without incident and the two left together, followed at some distance by a man in a white shirt, covered inconspicuously with a black trench coat.
They left the terminal in New Orleans, taking their seats in a plush black limousine, just as, back in L.A., Spike led Buffy and the others to the Los Angeles airport front gates.
"She took a plane," Buffy said beyond anger, "on my credit card?"