Chapter 5: Problems

Dawn called Buffy the next day in near hysterics. "Buffy, I'm in trouble here."

"What's going on?" Buffy asked.

"I fell for this guy. You remember the professor I told you about that hired me as his TA. I've been dating him for a while," Dawn said.

Buffy sighed. "Dawn, while I am happy you have found someone. That does put us in a bind so close to the move. I'll come back after Christmas. I can't get away before then. We'll see what we can do about him then. You may have to tell him the truth. Do you think he'll keep our secret?"

"I don't know," Dawn said. "I think so."

Two days later Dawn was at Clay's apartment. She stopped drying a plate and looked at Clay, nose scrunching. "We need a tree …" she said. Till Buffy arrived she decided to try and not let on that something was wrong.

"That's where I thought we'd start."

"With a … tree …?" Dawn asked.

"Right. Or should we buy the decorations first?"

"Decor—" Dawn laughed. "Oh, you mean a Christmas tree. Context, Clay. You must learn the fine art of conversational context." She slid the plate onto the shelf. "A tree would be nice. Is it too soon?" She leaned over the counter to squint at the dining room calendar. Her lips moved as she counted. "Just over three weeks—it should last that long. When do you want to get it?"

"Tomorrow. We'll stop by the hardware store for an axe, then I know where there is a strand of them just outside town."

"So we'll just go chop one down." Dawn's cheeks twitched as she bit back a laugh. "Highly illegal, but perfectly sensible, and that's what matters in Clay's world. Did you notice the trees in the grocery store lot? Hint: They didn't grow there overnight. That's where we get Christmas trees from in our world."

"Yeah, half-dead ones, cut down in October. Damn things would be naked by Christmas."

"True." Dawn started to move away, but he put his hand against the small of her back, keeping her close. "I suppose that's what you do at home, isn't it?" she said. "Grab an axe, walk out to the back forty, and chop down a tree. That'd be nice."

A wistful look, then she brightened. "Oh, wait a sec. There are tree farms, outside the city, where you can cut your own—"

Dawn stopped, gaze skipping to the side. "On second thought, maybe not. They'll be packed with people—crying kids, crowded wagons—definitely not your idea of a good time."

"I'd survive."

"No, we can—" Dawn said.

"Find a place and we'll go tomorrow."

The day after they got the tree, they put it up and decorated it. Only one thing was missing: the presents to go underneath. She and Buffy generally would go shopping the day after they got the tree. They would generally buy way more presents than they needed. Then they would pretend the presents were from their mom, Xander, Willow and Giles. It had been like that for a very long time. If it hadn't been for Buffy preparing for the move they would have done that again this year.

Two days later they were shopping. Logan had even come down to shop with them. Dawn's fingers flipped through the jewel-bright colors, frown deepening, then lightening. She paused on a dark burgundy, and then shook her head. As she looked away, she stopped, and tugged out the arm of a deep royal-blue sweater. She smiled; this would be perfect for Buffy.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for lunch," Logan said as Dawn approached after buying the sweater. "How about that food court we passed on the first level?"

Dawn's gaze darted toward Clay, then back again too fast for Logan to follow. "One more stop and my list is done," she said. "Maybe we can grab a muffin or something, finish up, then swing through Chinatown on the way back, find someplace less crowded. And more appetizing."

"Works for me," Logan said.

"So who do you guys have left?" Dawn asked.

"Jeremy." Logan looked at Clay. "And, I'm guessing, Jeremy."

Clay nodded.

Dawn laughed. "There's always one, isn't there?"

"Is there an art store here?" Logan said. "That's the usual standby for Jeremy."

Dawn pulled a face. "And I'm sure when he picks up a gift from his pile, he's going, 'Hmm, paintbrush or paper?' Let's show some originality this year, guys. There's a huge sports store in here. We'll head there."

Logan looked my way. "Uh, Jeremy's not really the sports type …"

"Clay said he likes marksmanship, right?" Dawn asked.

"Uh, sure. But—"

"Come on, then," Dawn said.

On the way to the sports store, Logan kept shooting looks Clay's way, clearly worried about what Dawn had in mind, but not wanting to denigrate her efforts. Dawn led them to a row of locked glass cabinets near the back of the sports store. Inside were tournament bows, BB guns, camping knives, and all the other sports paraphernalia that couldn't be put out on the shelves.

Logan pretended to survey the cabinets. "Umm, you know, this would be a great idea … if Clay or I knew a damned thing about what kind of equipment Jeremy uses. I know, we should pay attention, but, well, it's Jeremy's thing." He shrugged. "Bullets, sights, arrows, they all look the same to me."

"Which is why I'm not suggesting that," Dawn said. "Bullets and arrows are as bad as paintbrushes and paper. Supplies, not presents. A gift should be something different, something he doesn't already own." She moved down the row and stopped at a bow display. "Does he have a crossbow?"

Clay shook his head.

"Has he ever said he doesn't want one? Tried one and didn't like it?"

"Nope." Clay bent to look at the crossbows. "That's what I'll get him, then."

"You don't have to. It's just a thought—" Dawn said.

"It's a great thought. He likes trying new stuff. Thanks."

Dawn's lips curved in a shy half-smile. "You're welcome. Oh, but make sure you save the receipt. And pick out something not too expensive, so he won't feel bad if he doesn't use it."

Logan bent beside Clay. "You know, that is a good idea." He slanted a look toward Clay. "Clay must have told you a lot about Jeremy, huh?"

Dawn shrugged. "This and that. He sounds … well, I look forward to meeting him." She blinked fast realizing her slip. If luck held out she would never meet him. "Assuming, I mean, that I will meet him. I'd like to, of course …"

"You will," Clay murmured.

"Someday, right?" Dawn hesitated, and then said quickly, "Maybe you can set it up when you're home for the holidays."

"I … sure, I could …" Clay glanced at Logan, who busied himself with a racquetball display.

"Not a weekend visit or anything big like that," Dawn hurried on. "We could meet halfway, like in Syracuse for dinner."

"That would be a good idea." Clay turned. "Hey, Logan. Help me pick out one of these, will you? I'll buy the bow; you can pitch in with the arrows and stuff. Make it a joint gift, then get the hell out of here and track down lunch."

Logan looked over at Dawn, then nodded and walked back to help Clay.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Arms loaded with gifts, Dawn twisted sideways to push open her apartment door. She held the door with my foot, and then managed to swing around and get out of the way before it hit her.

Dawn lowered the load to the bed. She checked her answering machine and saw that there were two messages from Buffy and five from Jason. Dawn didn't return Jason's call. She didn't want that headache.

"Just one," Clay said the next day, sliding his foot under the tree and nudging the stack of gifts. "Look, lots there. Opening one early won't hurt."

They were stretched out on his living room carpet, surrounded by shortbread and gingerbread cookie crumbs, two mugs of hot chocolate leaning precariously on the deep carpet pile. Clay waved his cookie toward the tree, scattering more crumbs. "Go on. Open one. You've been eyeing them all night."

"Have not," Dawn said.

"Have too." He hooked one with his foot and punted it out. "There. It fell off the pile. Don't make me put it back. Open it."

"But if I open one, then you should open one, and I only brought—" Dawn said.

"I don't need gifts. I already told you that. And I'm far more patient than you."

Dawn snorted a laugh. "Who burned his tongue on the hot chocolate after I told him it was still too hot?"

"That's different. That was food." He twisted and stretched over to the end table, reached up, and grabbed a tissue. Then he took two cookies from the plate and wrapped them.

"There, a gift for me," he said.

"But you already know what it is," Dawn said.

"Doesn't matter. If it's edible, I'm not complaining." He unwrapped the tissue. "Oh, look, a hunchback cookie. Thank you."

He bit off the head.

"There," he mumbled around the mouthful of cookie. "I've opened and accepted my gift. Now your turn."

Dawn laughed. Truth be told most of the gifts she had bought were for Buffy. One or two were for Logan and one for Clay. Clay's real gift was going to be to tell him the truth about who she and Buffy were.

Clay grabbed Dawn around the waist and pulled her to him. He kissed her and she tasted gingerbread. The kiss deepened and she pressed against him. After a few minutes of kissing, he pulled back and twisted as he reached behind him.

"Now for your gift," he said.

"You mean that wasn't it?" Dawn asked.

"Nah, I don't reserve that for special occasions, darling, or I'd have to make up a whole lot of them. Two-month anniversary; two-month-and-one-hour anniversary; two-month, one-hour, and twenty-three-minute anniversary …"

He lifted the gift and rolled back to see Dawn staring down at him.

"What did you say?" she said.

"I said I don't reserve that for special occasions, or I'd—"

"No, what did you call me?" Dawn asked.

"Call you?"

"Maybe I misheard. I hope so, because if you have to call me something—" Dawn shook her head. "Never mind. Just give me the gift."

"So we've gone from 'Oh no, I don't really want one early' to 'Hand it over'?"

Dawn sighed and snatched the gift from his hand. It was rectangular, about half the size of a shoe box, with something inside that jangled.

"It's a present, not a psychic test," he said. "Just open it already."

Dawn ripped off the paper, opened the box, reached inside, and pulled out a key. Two keys, actually, looking remarkably similar to the set she had in her purse.

"They're for the apartment," Clay said.

"That's what I thought." Dawn lifted them from the box. "Oh, wait, it's a new keychain. No, that's the free one they give you at the key-cutting place."

"The keys are the gift, not the chain."

"A set of keys to match the set I already have?" Dawn asked.

"Right."

Dawn looked at him.

"Backup keys," he said. "If I piss you off, and you get the urge to throw my keys away, go ahead. You now have replacements."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" Dawn asked.

"Only if the purpose is really to break up with me. If you just want to tell me I'm being a jerk and I'd better shape up, then this works fine. Symbolic key whipping without the risk of keyless inconvenience."

"Uh-huh," Dawn said.

"I could get you a nicer keychain."

Dawn laughed and flicked cookie crumbs off the carpet at him. As she took another swig of hot chocolate, she glanced at the tree again.

"What, eyeing the pile, hoping there's something better in there?"

"No, I was just—" Dawn leaned toward the presents. "What happened to that one? Looks like you used a whole roll of tape on it."

"I ran out of paper, so I covered the hole with tape."

Dawn inched toward the tree. "Meaning, if I look closely, I can probably see right through it?"

"Don't you dare."

As Dawn lunged for the present, Clay scissored his legs around her waist. She squirmed, and almost got free before he grabbed her arm. She knew better than to struggle. Clay had a vise grip—once he got hold of her, she wasn't getting away unless she teleported. And now wasn't the time to start that conversation.

Dawn let him tug her away from the tree. When he let go of her arm, she shot back toward the gift pile. Her foot accidentally struck his jaw. He let out a curse and she turned to see him wincing as he ran a finger along his front teeth.

"Shit," he muttered. "It's loose."

Dawn scrambled back to him. "I'm so sorry. Which one—"

He grabbed Dawn around the waist and yanked her off her feet. His hold slipped as her shirt pulled from my jeans, and she managed to twist almost out of his grip, but he moved fast, tugging her down as he rolled on top of me.

They tussled for a few minutes, laughing and cursing, depending on who had the upper hand. Soon his mouth found hers and he pinned her, arms over her head, grip slack, letting her know she could get away anytime.

"We should talk," Dawn said.

"Talk?" Clay said as he pulled back. "About what?"

"This," Dawn said and she disappeared in a flash of green, causing him to fall to the floor from her sudden disappearance beneath him.

"My name is not Dawn Elena Michaels," Dawn said from behind him as he turned to face her. "My name is Dawn Marie Summers. My sister Buffy and I are over two hundred years old. We're immortal, having drunk from the Fountain of Youth. I was originally born in the year 1987. And Buffy will be born next month, literally."

Clay listened as Dawn laid out her entire life story starting with the Key and Glory and culminating with the last couple years. "That's why Buffy and I are moving to Toronto. It's time for us to change names, change identities. We can only stay in one place ten, maybe twenty years before someone notices we don't age."

Clay slowly nodded. If Dawn hadn't teleported he might have thought she was delusional. But teleporting like that had cause for him to pause and think over her whole story. They sat there just looking at each other. Neither of them speaking as Clay digested what Dawn had told him. Then he smiled.

"Thank you for telling me, darling. Does this mean you're leaving soon?"

"I'm afraid so," Dawn said. "It's the reason Buffy is in Toronto. She's been setting up our new identities. I told you because I trust you not to reveal our secrets. And because I love you. I haven't loved anyone in two hundred years, not since Jack. I had decided a long time ago that I would not watch someone I love die again. So I adopted the philosophy of get some and gone. Till you that philosophy worked. You wormed your way past my barriers. Now I'm not interested in get some and gone, not with you. But there is still the problem with the fact I don't age. There is only one solution to that. You leave with me."