Dawn of a New Era: Dawn of a New Era
by Heroes Team
Long, dark, windowless hallways might be practical for a vampire's office, but they made coming to work a little creepy. The sound of Dawn's heels against the hardwood floors echoed, making it sound like someone else was behind her. No, wait... She stopped, but the footsteps behind her continued for a moment. She slid her hand into her purse and pulled out a stake. She lifted the stake and turned abruptly, holding an attack position.
"Good form, but a little slow on reaction time," said Buffy.
"Why are you following me?" asked Dawn, crossing her arms.
"I wanted to know where my little sister's been sneaking off to every day."
"I haven't been sneaking! I've been walking openly out the door!"
"When no one else is in the room," said Buffy. "Spill it. What's going on?"
Dawn sighed. "I got a job."
"As what, a cocktail waitress?" asked Buffy, looking at Dawn's clothes.
"The modern woman can be professional and sexy at the same time," Dawn said defensively. "Come on, I've seen some of the outfits you used to slay in."
"I never wore heels like those!" protested Buffy.
"Well, I'm working in an office. Less high kicks, more filing. My footwear doesn't have to be slay-worthy."
"So, office? Why the big secret?" asked Buffy.
"No secret! It's just an office. With phones and spreadsheets and normal stuff like that. I really should go. Good to see you!" Dawn walked away from Buffy and put her hand on the doorknob of the office door. She paused and looked back. Buffy stood there, waiting for her to open the door. Dawn sighed. "I'm working for Angel, okay? Office work. No big."
"Dawn. I told you I don't want you involved in this business. You should be going to school, studying, dating, being a normal college kid."
"I know. You want me to have a normal life because you couldn't. I'm not you, Buffy. I want to be involved. I like helping save people, maybe save the world. Plus, I kick ass at the research stuff. Which is totally me, not monk-inserted. I learned this stuff myself."
"Dawn -"
"Buffy, I'm an adult now, remember? Eighteenth birthday? We had a party with tiramisu? Andrew got drunk and translated Alessandro's sonnets into Klingon?"
"What does Klingon poetry have to do with anything?"
"I'm an adult," Dawn repeated. "I can make my own choices."
Buffy sighed and nodded. "Just please be careful, Dawn."
"I will. Do you want to come in and say 'hi' to Angel? Or are you going to keep doing that avoidy thing?"
"The avoidy thing sounds pretty good," said Buffy. "Besides, it's not really avoidy. We don't have anything to talk about."
"Uh-huh," said Dawn. "See you at home!"
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The familiar noise of Angel and Spike bickering greeted Dawn as she walked into the office.
“...Saved your tail end enough times to deserve somethin’ for my troubles.”
“What you deserve is... Do we have to go over this again, Spike?” Angel was leaning against Dawn’s desk, glowering. “After you’ve spent a hundred years tortured by the heinous acts you’ve committed, maybe then we can talk about what you deserve.”
Dawn rolled her eyes and scootched between her boss and... whatever Spike’s title was. Office mascot, maybe.
“Hey, Dawn,” Angel said perfunctorily, before snapping right back to “And another thing. I want you to put in on the water bill. You can’t just squat in one of my apartments and not pay utilities.”
Spike snorted. “Like hell I’m paying you. First of all - in case you’ve forgotten - vampire. I don’t use that much water,” Spike pointed out. “And second - I don’t have the money in the first place. Which is why I’m stayin’ upstairs in the first place. It isn’t squattin’; it’s bleeding hospitality!”
“Technically,” Dawn piped in, “if Spike wanted to do some odd jobs around here, I don’t see why he can’t - ”
“No,” Angel said. “Absolutely not. I want you gone, Spike. I didn’t want you around when you were haunting Wolfram & Hart, and I didn’t want you around when you were moping around Wolfram & Hart, and I certainly don’t want you freeloading off of Champion Investigations. I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here.”
“I was not ‘moping,’ you git. It was a deeply personal contemplation of my overall place in the universe, right? With sarcasm,” Spike said. “And that’s a right brilliant idea. Send the poor disenfranchised vampire out into the big brave world without a cent to his name and no place to go.”
“Angel?” Dawn said.
“What?”
“Do we have to kick him out right now? I mean, can’t we give him some time to find somewhere else?”
“I don’t see why we have to - ”
Dawn’s eyes widened and watered up. Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. “Please?”
“I -” Angel said, struggling against the effects of Dawn’s pitiful expression. “You don’t... He...” He let out a half-annoyed sigh. “Dammit. Fine. Spike can stay another week so he can find another place.”
Spike crossed his arms and smirked.
Dawn broke into a massive grin and gave Angel a spontaneous hug. “Another win scored by the infamous Dawn Summers Sad Puppy Face.”
Angel stiffened a little under the embrace. “Dawn. Um - “
“Right,” Dawn backed off. “You’re not a hug guy.”
“Not really.”
“Actually, that’s not entirely true, really,” Spike said. “I remember one time in Luxembourg...”
“I can change my mind anytime, Spike.”
“Right, then. Another time, perhaps.”
Angel glared at the other vampire but spoke to Dawn. “I’ll be in my office. If anything worth my time comes through, let me know. And keep a running tab on all of Spike’s expenses accrued over the next week.” He stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Dawn sat down at her desk and started organizing it. Angel had disheveled her system, again, and probably for something stupid like a Post-It note. She shuffled a stack of blank invoices and placed them in her file caddy.
Spike sauntered over and leaned over the desk. “That’s a nice little trick you picked up, nib- Dawn.”
“Willow’s a good teacher.”
“Really ‘preciate what you done for me back - ”
“Don’t mention it,” Dawn said without looking up from her work.
“No, I mean, really...”
“I mean, don’t mention it,” she said.
“Right. Sorry,” Spike said. After a moment of silence, he added, "'Spose I should go see if Charley-boy’s up and about.”
"Sounds good," Dawn said. She started drawing up a to-do list for the day.
"Right. I'll do that, then." He headed to the back hallway.
Just as Spike was about to leave the room, Dawn said, “Spike?”
He glanced back. “Yeah?”
“Thanks,” she said quietly. “For the necklace.”
Spike shrugged and smiled a little. “Don’t mention it.”
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"We should have examined it when we were here last time," said Willow as she and Buffy headed toward the photography museum. The "Destruction of Sunnydale" exhibit was still open, so they hoped to find some clues as to who had created the box that froze Buffy.
"Probably, but I wasn't anxious to be statue-fied again, and we had an unconscious Andrew to deal with," said Buffy. "Speaking of dangerous Watcherly stuff, I found out where Dawn's been sneaking off to. She's working for Angel."
"Did you break down and ask her?"
"The direct approach? Nope. I followed her to work. "
"Subtle," said Willow.
"I thought so."
"So, did you talk to Angel?"
"No, I talked to Dawn. Why would I talk to Angel? We have nothing to talk about," said Buffy.
"Okay."
"What?"
"What what? I just said okay," said Willow.
"But it wasn't an 'okay' okay. It was a 'You're wrong, but I'm not going to say anything' okay," said Buffy.
"No! It might have been an 'I don't totally agree' okay, but it was not a 'you're wrong' okay. Since when do I use 'you're wrong' okays?"
"What's not to agree with? Angel and I have nothing to discuss," said Buffy.
"Okay."
"Now that was a 'let's tolerate Buffy's strange mood' okay. Just say what you want to say, Wil."
"I just notice that you've been very avoidy lately. You can't just pretend Angel doesn't exist. He's here, and we've all got to work together, so - you need to deal," said Willow.
"I'm dealing! I'm a dealer!"
"You're an avoider. You just need to talk to him," said Willow.
"Fine. We'll talk, okay?"
"Okay."
Buffy sighed. Willow could put more meanings into that one word than should be legal. "Now what?"
"Well... there's Spike."
"No."
"Buffy, you can't just ignore him."
"Not ignoring! Keeping a professional distance. Hey, he didn't even bother to call me and tell me he wasn't dead anymore. Er, you know. He didn't tell me he was walking-around dead instead of dust-and-ashes dead. I don't think he wants to get up-close and personal," said Buffy.
"Maybe arms-length and friendly?" suggested Willow. "Not groiny! I know you've got a guy back in Italy."
"Yeah. Right," said Buffy distantly.
"What? Are things not good with the Immortal?"
"They're fine. I think. I just haven't heard from him for a while," Buffy noticed Willow's concerned expression. "He's probably just busy. He's a very busy man."
"Okay," said Willow.
"Would you stop with the third degree? We have investigating to do," said Buffy. They'd arrived at the photography exhibit. They skipped over the photos this time and headed for the glass display case with relics from the Sunnydale's destruction.
"I don't see it. Wasn't it in this section?" asked Willow, as they looked over the items.
"It wasn't in the case," replied Buffy. "It was on the end - the sign said 'New Arrival' or something."
"Probably been moved, then." Willow spotted a museum attendant walking past and intercepted him. "Excuse me? We're looking for an item we saw last week - a box? It looks like..." She paused, and turned to Buffy.
"A square chest, about this big," she gestured. "It was a new arrival. When I got home, I, uh, remembered my grandmother used to have one like it, so I wanted to know more about it."
"Doesn't sound familiar," said the attendant. "I could check the inventory?"
"Please," said Willow.
They followed him over to a counter, where he pulled out a three-ring binder and looked over a list. "I don't have any boxes or chests listed. You're sure it was this exhibit?"
"Very sure," said Buffy.
"Maybe it came from another exhibit? Got put in the wrong place?" suggested Willow.
"Um, I'll ask," he said, and walked over to another attendant. "Hey Marge? You know anything about a box?"
While the attendants talked, Buffy whispered to Willow, "Can you track it using magic?"
"I checked," Willow whispered back. "I can't pick up any trace of it. But there's a lot of weird stuff happening here, 'cause of the Hellmouthy vibe. It's like trying to use a Geiger counter in a nuclear waste dump."
The attendant returned. "Sorry. It's not one of ours."
"Thanks," said Willow. The attendant wandered away. "Maybe we should check out the janitor that Andrew mentioned?" she whispered to Buffy, who nodded.
They slipped out the back door and looked around the back hallways until they found the janitor's closet. Buffy knocked, then opened the door. No one was there. They stared at the collection of mops, brooms and cleaning supplies.
"Guess we'd better search it," said Buffy.
"Let me try something first," said Willow. She closed her eyes and spoke a few words under her breath. She waited, then frowned and tried again. Opening her eyes, she shook her head. "No good. It's been cleansed. I can't get anything from it."
"We'll just do it the old-fashioned way," said Buffy. She started pulling bleach and paper towels off the shelf.
Thirty minutes later, they had a thorough knowledge of industrial cleaning supplies, but no new clues.
"Maybe the shed where we found the black box will have something," suggested Willow.
"The bomb you and Angel disarmed? We're going with the 'it's all connected' theory?"
"We don't have much else to go on, at this point. Besides, connected or not, anything we find out will be helpful."
"True enough. Let's check it out," said Buffy.
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Dawn drummed her fingers on her desk. The staccato was about the only noise in the office besides the hum of the fluorescent lights and the shuffling of the newspaper in Spike’s hands.
She opened the filing cabinet and considered overhauling the organization system for the third time this week. However, the meager offering of manila folders before her suggested that maybe it was too much effort for not enough files.
The door to the back hallway swung open. “Got it!” said Gunn as he wheeled in.
Dawn bounced up. “A case?”
“Uh, unfortunately no.” He held up a small booklet. “Finished all my Cryptoquotes. Last one had me goin' for a second, but I came from behind. Take that, Adlai Stevenson.”
Dawn sat back down. “Oh.” She forced a smile and said, “Good for you?”
“I’m dyin’ from your enthusiasm,” Gunn said. “Hey, Spike, you got any more of these? I’m feelin’ like a challenge today.”
“Sorry,” Spike said. “Maybe later.”
“Cool.”
Angel stuck his head out of his door. “Gunn? Can I see you in here for a minute?”
Gunn’s smile faded a little. “Yeah. No problem.” He pushed forward and into Angel’s office.
Dawn waited for the door to shut and then turned to Spike. “You bought him a puzzle book?” she asked incredulously.
“Hey, don’t knock ‘em. Very difficult. And it got his mood a bit perky, didn’t it? Been in a chair before, m’self. Brain work gives a fella a sense of accomplishment.”
“Uh-huh,” Dawn said.
Spike went back to his newspaper. Dawn shifted her pens into the pencil caddy and her pencils into the pen caddy, followed by a rigorous sorting of Post-It notes by color.
After she’d organized her desk to the point of diminishing returns, she began contemplating her hands. “You think mango would annoy Buffy?”
Spike looked up. “What?”
“Mango. If I painted my nails mango.”
Spike arched an eyebrow.
“I’m bored.”
“Can’t imagine out why. Lookit all the excitement buzzin’ about.”
Dawn rolled her eyes and went back to her search for things to pointlessly rearrange.
The front door swung open. Dawn bounced up. “Welcome to Champion Investigations, we help the-- oh hey Andrew.”
Andrew waved limply. “Hey Dawn. Just thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing at your new workplace,” he said. “Of evil,” he added as an afterthought.
“Oh,” she said. “Fine. Just like the fine I’ve been doing for the past week when you’ve come to visit me.” She smiled. “Bored again?”
“Like Waterworld. Buffy and Willow are doing some kind of recon thing today, and they said they could handle it, and I’m all like, ‘Whoa, now. This is a Watcher’s Council thing. You gotta take me with. I could take notes and give guidance and stuff,’ and they told me that they didn’t really need me. So I’m here.”
Dawn nodded. “Cool.”
Andrew hovered over her desk. “So, you guys got any cool missions? Of evil?”
“Uh, not right now. We’re waiting. Any second now.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said. “I can wait here. A Jedi is eternally patient, and so must I be.” He leaned against the wall. Within five minutes, he was humming the “Raiders of the Lost Ark” theme music.
The front door swung open. Dawn sprung up again. “Welcome to Champion Investigations. We help the helpless.”
The woman was dark haired and spoke with a Minnesotan accent. “Uh, hi. I - I hope I'm in the right place. I saw your classified ad. I need something investigated?”
Dawn nodded knowingly. “Sounds like you’re where you need to be. No case too small or too strange. We can help. I’m Dawn, and this is Spike.”
“I don’t work here,” Spike said.
“Right. But we contract him for special cases,” Dawn said, glaring slightly at Spike while maintaining her brightest, beaming smile for the potential client. “What’s your name?”
“Meg.”
“Okay, Meg. What can we do for you today?”
“Well, I just don’t know who to turn to. My sister Julia went missing a few weeks ago, and I’m just worried sick. I’m afraid something must have happened to her. You’re always reading about these horrible things in the paper, and I - I just can’t imagine if -”
Dawn nodded. “Would you like a seat?”
“Uh, sure.” Meg looked around for an empty chair.
Dawn cleared her throat and looked at Spike, subtly shifting her head upward and mouthing, “Get up.”
“What?” He stared for a second. “Oh! Bloody hell." He stood up.
“Thank you,” Meg said. She sank down onto the seat.
Dawn crouched down in front of the potential client. “Have you tried the police?”
“My goodness, yes. But they said there wasn’t any sign of foul play or anything. They said she probably just ran off somewhere. But I can’t imagine why. Julia had a good job and lots of friends here in town. Last time I saw her, though, she seemed kinda, oh I don’t know -- funny. I can’t really say how, but I just know there’s something goin’ on here.”
“We’ll get on it,” Angel said from behind them. At some point during Meg’s description of her problem, he’d emerged from his office. He stepped aside a little to let a bristling Gunn into the room.
“Absolutely,” Dawn said. “That’s Angel. He’s the boss and the best detective in the business. Don’t you worry about a thing. Now, if you’d like to come over to my desk, I just need to get some relevant facts about your sister so we can get started.”
Dawn tried to not seem like she was an eighteen-year-old new hire while Meg told her everything she knew - what Julia looked like, where she worked, where she hung out, and most importantly, where she lived. The act seemed to work, and Meg looked like she felt a little better about things in general by the end.
After their client left, Angel took the sheet with Julia’s address on it. “I’ll head over there right now. Get on the trail while we still have one.”
Spike smiled. “I agree. That’s a brilliant idea. I think you should do it immediately.”
Angel frowned. He looked at Dawn. “Daylight?”
“Daylight. Sorry, boss,” she said. “But I can totally recon this. I mean, it’s just visiting her place and snooping, right? I’m so down on that. I’m like, Dawn the Spy.”
“Yeah,” Andrew said. “And I can go with her and watch her back. We’ll be like… Scully and Robert Patrick, cuz I don’t do a good Duchovony. I look like I’m asleep.”
“Hold on! I don't need help. I can handle this on my own,” she said. “I’m eighteen. I lived on a Hellmouth. I survived Ubervamps and Bringers.”
“Andrew’s right,” Angel said.
The shock of the statement nearly tipped the Watcher-in-Training over. “I am?”
“Yeah. Dawn needs back-up. Gunn?”
Gunn raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you want me to go with Dawn? I’m sorry, I’m afraid I might ‘get in the way.’”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Angel protested.
“Oh, how the hell did you mean it, then? I’d love to know.”
Dawn looked from Angel to Gunn and back. “Uh, what’s going on here?"
Angel crossed his arms. “In our meeting just now, I might have accidentally said something along the lines of ‘You’ll get in the way.’ But I meant it in a good way. Like, um...”
Gunn gave a short, bitter laugh. “Don’t even try. I’ll be in my room, like usual. Little ol’ in-the-way me.” He wheeled himself into the back hallway.
“Fine,” Angel sighed. “Andrew, go with Dawn. Dawn, call me if anything unusual happens.”
Dawn gathered up her bag. “Like?”
“Anything,” he said. “If something happened to you...”
“You’d be upset?”
“Well, that, and Buffy would put a redwood through my chest.”
“Oh.”
“Just stay safe,” Angel said.
Dawn nodded. “Will do. Boss.”
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Illyria surveyed the room. "This space is small."
"Not like I need much space to get by. I'd just fill it with stuff that I'd have to get rid of later anyway."
The apartment Xander was looking at wasn't much more than studio-size. There was just a kitchen, a living area, and a small back room with a bathroom off of it. She was right about the smallness. Still, it was a lot more than he'd had while staying at Willow and Dawn's apartment, and even that was way more room than he'd had in Africa.
"It is wise that you have chosen to remove yourself from the dwelling of the females," Illyria continued. "There are too many humans in that space, and the noise becomes bothersome."
"Doesn't stop you from coming by."
Illyria just stared at Xander, then turned and walked into the back room without saying anything else. It was a pattern he was getting pretty used to. He didn't really need a response to that anyway. What he'd been calling "Twenty Questions" was probably at around twenty-thousand questions after all these weeks. But talking about general topics was a hell of a lot easier than the other conversations he could be having. Not that he ever used his time with Illyria as an excuse to avoid conversations with the others. Okay, maybe he had. But he tried to not admit that, even to himself.
What he didn't get was why he'd somehow become some kind of Yoda of human-training. Especially since he wasn't all that good of an example for anybody to follow.
After the Buffy-freezing incident last week, he'd called Giles to ask for a leave of absence from his duties over in Africa. Not that it was an easy decision to make, but while stuff was still heading toward possible-weird here, leaving wasn't going to happen. Giles wasn't thrilled about the idea, but he'd agreed to it. At least for now.
"Mr. Harris?" That had to be the landlord of the place, knocking on the half-open door.
"Yes, sir." Xander reached out his hand for the usual handshake greeting, but the man seemed fixated on the left side of his face. Great. He used his most normal and well-used excuse and pointed at his patch. "Construction accident."
"Ah, I see." He nodded nervously, now looking anywhere but at the patch. Yeah, this was going well. "Sorry to hear that. But it's nice to meet you in person. The tenant downstairs told me he'd let you in. Can I answer any questions for you?"
"My main question is about how my rental application is looking."
"Oh, fine, just fine." His maybe-landlord opened his bag and started shuffling through papers. "Credit checks out, references are good, everything looks positive."
"Nice. I like positive."
Illyria chose that moment to emerge from the back room. "Have you taken possession of this space?"
"Still figuring out details.," Xander replied.
Xander's almost-landlord stared at Illyria. Xander wasn't sure if it was the hair, the eyes, or the leather outfit that was making the landlord's face turn red, and the guy didn't have anything resembling a friendly expression on his face. "This your girlfriend?"
Maybe Illyria coming along wasn't the best idea ever. "No, just a friend, helping me out with the Great Apartment Search," Xander said.
Illyria turned and faced the now-nervous man. "You will give this domicile to Alexander, or I shall remove your entrails and pull them down the staircase and tie them to the illuminated post that is outside."
"She's joking, really. Tenant humor. It's the new big thing." Goodbye, apartment. Xander could almost see his rental application turn to dust.
The man blinked, and then stuffed the papers back into his case. "Yeah, well, uh, we'll be in touch. Lots of interest in the place, you understand. Nice to have met you both." Yep, this was one landlord he'd never have.
Suddenly ushered out into the narrow hallway, Illyria turned towards the door as it shut a little too firmly. She continued to stare at it as if the door itself had just done the shoving out.
Xander leaned against the wall. "I'm not getting this apartment."
"The mind of that human could not comprehend the presence of a god-king. He was weak." Illyria was still focused on that door, as if she could knock it down by just staring at it. Which maybe she could, but Xander wasn't about to test that theory.
"It wasn't the royaltyness. I just don't think he knew what to make of you. Of either of us."
"I cause fear in him."
"You cause freak in him." He rubbed the temple by his eye as he started down the stairs. "Okay, and maybe some fear. Don't worry about it. My eye patch started that ball rolling, and it's not like blue hair's all that strange to see around anymore. He was just easily weirded out by, uh, entrail-talk. Not good landlord material anyway if he is, so it's good for the whole family."
"Would this assist your dwelling search?"
"Would what help?" Xander turned around to see the non-blue version of Illyria staring at him. The Fred model. "Don't. Turn back to the usual you."
She looked just like she did the last time she'd changed, but it wasn't like there was a Texan talking this time around. "This image of the shell should not cause 'freak' or 'fear' in others. Humans and half-breeds found the shell appealing." That was 100% Illyria staring through those very human eyes, no doubt.
"True, not arguing, but... It doesn't feel right to use a dead person's face just to help get me a place to live. Besides, it's not like she could tell you no."
"The dead of your kind care how their images are used?"
Xander shrugged. "Personally, I really don't think the dead care about much of anything. Unless they're brought back, they're just dead."
"And yet you speak for them? You decide for them regarding what they would not have wanted?"
"Staying on the safe side, I guess," Xander shrugged. "And it's easier for the people left behind, the ones who knew the old you."
"Old me? I do not understand. I am eternal. Past, present and future."
"I meant the one you look like. The body you took over. Look, please, just do your blue thing and let's get out of here."
The blueness melted back on to her. It. No, "her" was the way to say it. Made it easier to match what he said with what he saw, no matter which way she looked. Actually, for some reason, dealing with a less-human Illyria was a whole lot easier than a more-human one. Plus, after Spike's reaction to last week, status quo was a good way to go.
Xander nodded to her. "Thanks."
"You are welcome." Illyria strode towards the car. "We will now continue your quest."
And at this rate, an apartment might actually be a Grail-type of find, Xander thought.
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"Um, isn't that kind of illegal?" asked Andrew, as Dawn picked the lock to Julia's apartment. The lockpicks were new - from a local spy shop - but the motion was familiar. Spike had explained the principles to her while "babysitting" her one night that awful summer when Buffy was dead. She'd spent hours practicing on the doorknobs. It was easier than thinking about things she didn't want to think about.
"Technically," she said. "But Meg didn't have a key. It's for a good purpose, so it's okay."
"Are you sure you're not rationalizing your evil deeds?"
"It needs to be done," she answered, as the lock clicked open. "There could be all kinds of clues here - e-mails, phone messages, calendars, all that stuff." She turned the knob, and the door swung open, revealing nothing. No papers, no computer, no furniture. The apartment was completely empty. Just off-white walls and beige carpeting.
"Maybe she just moved away?" suggested Andrew.
"But wouldn't she tell her sister?" She couldn't imagine leaving and not telling Buffy.
He shrugged. "Maybe she wanted to get away from her family," he said with a touch of sadness. Dawn looked at him sharply, but he was moving into the next room. "Nothing here, either."
She followed him. "When was the last time you talked to your family?" All she knew of his family was his brother had taught him demon-summoning.
"Uh, I don't know. Before I left Sunnydale, I think. Does the carpet look funny in that corner?" He knelt down to examine it.
"While you were a 'guestage'?" Dawn frowned, wondering what he'd told them.
"No, before I left the other time, to go to Mexico. Oh, it's loose!" He caught the edge of the carpet and yanked it up, revealing a well-worn hardwood floor.
"Wait, you haven't talked to your family in three years? They're probably worried about you!"
"Unlikely," said Andrew. "I think there's something under this board. Do you have a nail file or something we could pry it up with?"
Dawn knelt down next to him and looked at the board. "Maybe you should call them sometime."
"Maybe," said Andrew vaguely.
"Oh, here!" She slipped her finger into a notch at the edge of the board and flipped it up.
"Awesome!" He pulled out a notebook, a thick envelope, a passport and a couple of letters. He opened the envelope and found it full of $100 bills. "Wow!"
"See? She didn't leave voluntarily."
Andrew nodded. "I suspect foul play. If it's her stuff."
"It is," said Dawn. She showed him the first page of the journal, which had the name "Julia C. Kellogg" written across the top. "Let's take this stuff back to the office."
Andrew nodded. "Hey, do you guys have any Hot Pockets left in the fridge there?"
"No," said Dawn. "Just blood. I need to make a grocery store run. Later, though. The client comes first."
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Buffy looked around at the buildings that surrounded them. It was all neat and clean, with directional signs and benches, but she still felt like something was off about the place. "So this whole place used to be a mission, right?"
Willow nodded as they walked down the path towards the main building. "True, but not for a really long time. I guess they moved the actual mission. It's all museum space now."
"Great. Because nothing says creepy like something that's both old and formerly religious. Which kind of fits the creepy mold anyway, even without the 'formerly' part."
"It's okay. There's only the one place that had the bomb problem, and that building only looked like it was infused with magicks. A couple of strokes on my keyboard, and then everything was fine and dandy." Willow started to head toward a shed near the main building.
Buffy followed. "I still say that this place has a creep factor. A touristy creep factor, but it counts."
"You know, we could call Angel out here, considering he was here and saw just as much as I did. It might help."
"No. We can take care of this. It's just recon."
"If you say so." The shed was just as neat and clean as the rest of the place, but it was a little more neat and clean then it should've been. It even had a fresh coat of paint. Willow shook her head. "It didn't look like this before."
"Cleanup crew came through here too, maybe?"
"Could be." Willow opened the door to the shed, and they both peeked in. The same kind of newly-painted, way-too-clean scene greeted them inside, which was absolutely no help. "It's like somebody's trying really hard to make us think that what Angel and I saw wasn't really here."
"Trying a little too hard," Buffy agreed. "But now that we're away from all of the hellmouth-infected stuff, could a spell help us out here?"
"Possibly. Something general, though. If this had been a mystical kablooie-thing instead of a technical kablooie-thing, I could get a little more specific with the conjuring."
"It's okay. Considering the nothing we have to go on now, I'm okay with generalness."
"But still not okay with a certain vampire who happens to be an eyewitness coming out here to help?"
"It's daytime," Buffy lamely tried to explain. "I didn't want to push this off until later."
"And next, you'll be trying to sell me a bridge." Willow shook her head. "Buffy, there's I-just-don't-want-to-deal-right-now avoidy and there's interfering-with-life avoidy. The first kind's okay, and we all do it. But I've done the second kind too, and it's just not good."
"Can we go back to not talking about this?"
"Just for now. But, Buffy, until you leave or they leave, you're gonna have to deal with them eventually." Willow looked around and pointed at a square of grass in front of the museum. "Over there. I can do a general detection spell from there. It should get me the best coverage of the area."
"Anything I can do?" Buffy followed Willow over to the grass in question as she rummaged through her bag.
"No, it's okay. This should be pretty easy. But the spell might attract some baddie's attention if there's something still around, so we could maybe get company."
Willow sat cross-legged on the grass and closed her eyes. After a minute, she pointed. "Energy. Over near that same shed. I can feel it."
"So there is something over there." Buffy reached out her hand to help Willow up. "Any clue about what kind of something?"
"It's feeling like a ward of some kind, but I can't tell anything about what's being protected."
"Just one way to find out." Heading back towards the shed, Buffy studied the area. "How close to the shed was what you felt?"
"It felt further away, but definitely nearby." They passed the shed and looked behind the main building. Willow closed her eyes again and pointed. "There."
The only thing Buffy could see in the direction Willow pointed was a pile of wooden pallets. "Either there's some kind of square wood demon, which would be one of the lamer demons ever, or those are hiding something." Walking over to them, Buffy pushed the pallets aside. "Why am I just not all that surprised to find a sneaky trap door? It just fits this whole thing."
"Kinda does feel appropriate, huh?" Willow held her hand over the door. "One second -- Okay, it was warded like I thought, but it's all clear now."
"Thanks." Buffy took a deep breath and opened the trap door, looking down into the hole they'd found. "Not easy to see much, but hey, gotta thank them for the handy ladder somebody put in here. You ready?"
"To go into a dark and dank hole that has who-knows-what inside? Sure, what the heck?"
Buffy swung her legs into the hole and started down the ladder. The light was blocked a little when Willow followed her in. She'd just jumped on to the floor at the bottom when she heard Willow cry out. "Ow!"
"Ow? You okay?" Buffy looked up to see Willow looking at her arm.
"Big ow! Something bit me. Or stung me. I don't know, just 'ow'." Willow stepped off the ladder and examined her arm. When she turned it over to look at her wrist, she screamed and did what Buffy could only describe as a freak-out dance. "Get it off! Get it off!"
"What? Get what off where?" A thousand demony possibilities rushed through Buffy's mind.
"A spider! Get it off me!" Willow was wriggling around in a circle, jumping up and down.
Buffy signed in relief. "Let me see." She took Willow's hand and looked down at it. A small spider - maybe sort of orange-y brown, but she wasn't sure in the dim light - jumped off her friend's arm. Willow's eyes had shut tight.
"Deep breath. It's gone, it's okay." Willow's eyes opened a crack at Buffy's words, and she looked down at the tiny welt on her arm. "See? It barely got you."
"Sorry," Willow said. "Spiders are just icky. I guess I did do a little too much in the way of fuss-making."
"It's okay. No reason for major wig, though. It was just a little thing." Buffy looked around, "Or I thought it was. I can't see it anymore."
"It is a little gloomy, but that's an easy one to fix," Willow agreed, still catching her breath. She looked up. "Fiat lux."
Buffy just barely caught Willow as she fell, unconscious.
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"We're back!" called Dawn as they entered the office.
"Oh, goody," said Spike, who was slouched in a chair playing his Gameboy. Gunn was nearby, flipping through a magazine.
Angel emerged from his office. "Hey, Dawn. What did you find out?"
"The whole place has been emptied, but we found these hidden under the floorboards in the bedroom." Dawn laid out the objects on the desk.
"We believe someone wanted it to look like she had moved away," Andrew said. "The evidence suggests she left involuntarily, though." He opened the envelope full of cash and showed it to Angel. "Presumably she would have taken the money with her, had she left on her own."
"She probably would have taken her journal, too," said Dawn. She sat down at the desk and opened the book.
Spike sat up. "That's a lot of cash."
"Don't even think about it," said Angel. "It's Julia's. She gets it back when we find her."
"Right," said Spike. "Just thinking, maybe she was into something shady."
"Excellent point, Spike," Andrew said. "Something to consider as we research this case."
"'We'?" asked Angel. "You don't work here."
"My duty is to help those who need it. Therefore I volunteer my services."
"Thanks, but no. I don't need you lurking around here, spying on us," said Angel. "I think it's time you found something else to do."
"It's my duty -" began Andrew.
"It's my office," said Angel, stepping in close to Andrew and crossing his arms.
"Oh, stop it," interrupted Dawn. "Come on, Angel. How can it hurt to let him help out?"
"Last time I let him 'help out', he double-crossed us," said Angel, not lifting his eyes from Andrew.
"On Buffy's orders!" protested Andrew.
"You mean, when you were still working for Wolfram and Hart? The company that you later double-crossed?" asked Dawn.
"Well -" said Angel.
"Do you really think it would have been better for Dana to stay in the control of Wolfram and Hart?" asked Dawn.
"Probably not, but-"
"So really, Andrew did you a favor, right?"
"Bit's got a point," said Spike.
"Fine! Stay, help, whatever," Angel said to Andrew. "I'll be in my office. Let me know when you've got something I can go on," he added to Dawn. He stalked into his office and stopped just short of slamming the door.
"Don't mind him," said Spike. "He's always cranky."
Andrew nodded, took a deep breath, and adjusted his tie. "So, Dawn. What can you glean from the journal?"
"Not much. It's just a diary. It's kind of weird, too. Listen to this, 'Went to the movies today. Saw Kill Bill 2 at the theater on 5th. Had dinner at the French place on J Street.'"
"That's your standard for weird? Thought you grew up on a Hellmouth," said Spike.
"No, it's not weird by itself. But after May, half the entries are like that. Different movies, different locations, but almost exactly the same wording."
"What about the other entries?" asked Andrew.
"A whole bunch about her boss and her job- but again, it's the same stuff, almost word for word, each entry."
"Maybe she has some kind of psychological disability? We should have questioned her sister further," said Andrew.
"That might explain it her disappearance. She could have had an episode, and be wandering the streets somewhere," said Dawn.
"Or maybe, she just didn't want people knowin' what she was writin' in her diary," suggested Gunn, not looking up from his magazine.
"You think it's in code, maybe?" asked Dawn.
"Worth a shot," said Gunn.
"Right!" said Andrew. "A clever move, to keep her enemies confused."
"Oh, cool!" Dawn grabbed a pencil and notebook. "Willow loaned me a book on cryptography a while back. I've been wanting to try and decipher something."
"What can I do?" Andrew asked eagerly.
"Order a pizza? This might take a while," said Dawn.
Andrew nodded. "I'm on it. The usual?" he asked, picking up the phone.
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Willow remembered falling. No, wait, she remembered waiting for a light that didn't come, and then the falling part. Not hitting the ground, just a total lack of legs under her. Which was weird, because her legs never usually went anywhere without the rest of her. She was kind of attached to them.
She wiggled a toe, and then another one. Okay, her feet were still there, which meant her legs were still there, which meant she didn't actually lose them. Thank goodness. She decided that now was an okay time to open her eyes.
The leg check she'd done before the big eye-opening had been a good idea, because she was now less worried to find herself in a hospital room. The worry went down even more when she saw a familiar face talking to a man who looked very doctor-ish. "Buffy?"
"Willow! You're awake!" Buffy was looking pretty darn relieved. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I fell over," she answered. Then the memory of what happened came back, and she tried to sit up. "The spider! It did this! It's an unconsciousness-causing spider!"
"We've ruled out the spider bite as the cause," said the doctor guy. "You've just picked up a little bit of the flu."
"Flu? Spider-caused flu, maybe?"
"Not at all. Flu-like symptoms can result from the bite of a venomous spider, but those are not instantaneous. Mild difficulty breathing, muscle spasms, headache, and nausea all can happen within moments if the spider is particularly venomous."
"But I was breathing heavy!"
"Your friend tells me that you became agitated when the spider bit you. Is this accurate?"
"Yeah. I sorta freaked," Willow admitted.
"Then, with your system already weakened by the virus that is in your system, whether you knew it was present or not, the illness was able to take hold."
"So, basically, what you're saying is that the poor spider's getting blamed, but it's really the fault of some sneaky virus?," Buffy asked.
"Exactly." The doctor nodded to Buffy, then turned back to Willow. "You see, if the bite were to blame, there would be a blister, sore, or discoloration at the site of a bite or sting. If you look at your arm, you'll barely see anything remaining of the bite that you received.
"You sure it was a spider-free flu kind of faint?" Willow liked the idea of blaming the spider a lot better.
"Positive. It was an effect of the virus, and you also may continue to feel lightheaded and dizzy. But, not to worry, with a little rest, you should be back on your feet in no time. However, I would like to keep you here overnight for observation."
"Do I have to?"
"I know it's no fun, but it's for the best," Buffy answered for him. "We can go back there tomorrow, or if you're not up for it, I can go back and use a flashlight. You don't need to light anything up today. Just rest." At the doctor's confused look, Buffy stammered out an explanation. "Fire. She's really good at building fires. Campfires. We're all about the camping."
Willow grinned. "Yep, I'm like a Girl Scout who just never got over the scout part."
The doctor nodded. "Yes, well, no camping for you tonight. We'll just monitor you and then send you home first thing tomorrow."
"But, Buffy? Just don't put off the, um, camping too long." Willow warned. "We don't know what we're missing."
"I won't. Promise."
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Leftover pizza sat on the desk, the cheese congealed into gelatinous clumps. Spike had left as soon as the sun set, and his Gameboy sat untouched.
Dawn had been the one that figured out that the film titles and the dates they were seen on were the keys to the rest of the diary.
“See?” she’d said. “They’re not in order. She goes to see Shrek 2 on May 15th, but the next film entry has her seeing Dodgeball on April 4th. I don’t even think Dodgeball was released then.”
With that piece of information in place, it was a steady process to unlocking a complex set of messages detailing a very strange series of recent events.
”Damn,” Gunn said, looking over his part of the project. “I got a reference to some sorta sacrifice here.”
“When?” Dawn said.
Gunn checked his notes. “Can’t tell. Was comin’ up in a few weeks, though. Which’d be right around now, by the math.”
“Ooh, here! Another reference to the bar on 33rd, and Mr. J,” Andrew said. “I think 33rd really is a street.”
"Yeah, that fits the house number I dug up," said Dawn. "Sounds like we have an address." She quietly walked over to the office door and jerked it open. Angel stood just inside, waiting.
"What? I wasn't hovering," he said.
"Of course not," said Dawn. "I think we've got it. Julia was involved in some sort of cult, and she wanted out. But she was afraid they were spying on her, which is why she made up this code, which was really complex, but I took care of it. We think she was planning to leave California at the end of the month."
Angel looked at her. “Did you breathe during that at all?”
“A little,” Dawn said. “Anyway, Julia had to keep going to these cult meetings, or else they'd get suspicious."
"But they must have found out and thwarted her escape," said Andrew.
"Here's where we think the cult was meeting," said Dawn, handing him a slip of paper. "You should check it out. Maybe you should have some backup?” She turned to Andrew. “Where did Spike go?"
"Happy hour at Claim Jumper," he replied.
"So, you could swing by there and grab him -"
"No," said Angel firmly, taking the address from Dawn. "I'll take care of this. Alone."
He stalked out the door.
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The address that Dawn gave Angel was for a two-story house not too far from downtown. He checked around the perimeter. The place didn’t seem to have anybody inside. He couldn’t hear movement or heartbeats.
“That’s probably not good,” he said to himself.
He hefted his sword and knocked on the front door. It creaked open at the first rap. He crossed the threshold into the foyer. “That’s probably not good, either.”
The rooms were dark and only a little dusty. Somebody had been here, but they’d been gone at least two weeks. The floors creaked a little as Angel walked. It was a creepy little abode, made creepier by the fact that along every single wall, there were a variety of carnival dolls.
Pink rabbits with giant grins, bigger front teeth, and vinyl skin. Fuzzy blue bears with bashful eyes. An assortment of bright orange tigers that looked like they needed a hug. Angel had a brief flashback of a giant gray egg and shuddered.
He gripped his sword tighter and headed for the stairs. As his foot hit the first step, he heard a scuttling behind him. He spun around, but saw nothing but the beaming faces of plush animal toys.
He took another step up. The scuttling sound started again, louder this time. Angel turned and walked back downstairs, his sword ready. He peered around and stopped on one very disquieting sight.
The toys had gotten closer. And they’d grown fangs.
One of the pink rabbits winked at him.
“Oh, god no.”
The toys inched closer, all still smiling. Saliva dripped off their sharp teeth.
Angel face contorted into a look of horror. “No. Not again.”
They were almost at his feet. The tigers brandished three-inch claws.
Somewhere in Angel’s brain, there was a tiny little snapping sound. His body tensed up. His eyes raged. “Never again.”
The toys charged at him, eager for his flesh.
Angel’s sword moved with a broad, savage stroke, slicing into the stuffing of a fuzzy bear. “NEVER AGAIN!”
A floppy bat with demonic yellow eyes flew at his neck. He grabbed it out of the air, threw it to the ground, and stabbed at it. “You’ll NEVER take me again!”
His blade was nearly invisible as it flew out, ripping open a swath in the oncoming army of cute plush animals. “I won’t go back. I’m not a puppet!”
A pair of green raccoons were making progress climbing up his legs. They nodded to each other and simultaneously bit into Angel’s thighs.
“Gyah!” Angel shook the beasties from him and lopped their heads off.
Fuzz and stuffing flew everywhere as Angel’s fury decimated the legions of adorable carnival prizes.
After he quartered the last one - a particularly winsome hippopotamus that had attempted to eviscerate him - he fell against the stairs, exhausted from the rage.
Lying there, he took a moment to assess his adorable attackers. “Not puppets. It’s not puppets. It’s okay.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just Bra’ghts. Probably put here to stop me from finding out about whatever’s on that second floor.”
He took a minute to get his composure back, pulled himself to his feet, and started up the stairs again. “I really hate possession demons,” he muttered. “One minute, you’re trying to make coffee and the next, the damn pot’s trying to take your hand.”
At the second floor landing, he caught sight of an arm through a doorway to the right. Inside the room, he found the rest of the body. Julia. She was lying dead in the middle of a circle of sacrifice.
“Dammit.”
Angel knelt down and looked her over. She was dressed in a simple white robe stained with the since-dried blood from the jagged cut across her throat. Also splashed with blood was a necklace in the shape of some sort of rune. Her eyes were still open.
Just on the periphery of his vision, he saw something on the inside of her left wrist. He lifted the arm up a little. Tattooed on the skin was a representation of the same rune that was on her necklace.
Angel made a note of this and then glanced at Julia’s smooth, unlined face. He shook his head. “Too young,” he said, gently shutting her eyes.
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Dawn woke the moment the door opened and winced at the kink in her neck. Maybe they should get a couch for the office. It would be way more comfortable for sleeping than her desk chair.
"Dawn? What are you still doing here?" Angel asked. "You didn't need to stay."
"I know," she said. "I wanted to. So, did you find her?"
"I found her," he said heavily.
She didn't like the look on his face. "She's okay, right? You got there in time? We saved her?"
Angel shook his head. "I was too late. I'm sorry, Dawn. She's dead."
Dawn felt wobbly. Sitting down would be good, if she could find the chair. Was the room spinning? "But - we figured it out."
He nodded. "You were right. It was a sacrifice. From the looks of things, it happened last night."
"Oh." She decided sitting sounded like a good idea after all. Now the room was getting blurry. Oh, wait, that was because she was getting teary.
"We can't save everyone. If we'd known sooner..." He sighed. "All we can do is work with what we've got."
She nodded. "Should we - should I call Meg?"
"I already went to see her," he said. "Some things are better handled in person."
"How is she? Is she--? No, of course she's not okay. Her sister's dead." Dawn's eyes were quickly going from teary to overflowing. She sniffled and wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve.
Angel offered her a Kleenex. "What we can do is find the people who did this and stop them from doing it again. You can help with that."
She nodded and blotted her eyes on the Kleenex. "What do I do now?"
"Julia was wearing a necklace." He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. It had been wiped clean of blood. "It matched a tattoo on her wrist. Meg didn't recognize it, so it may be related to the cult. Can you find out more about this symbol?"
"Sure. Could it be a magical necklace? Maybe Willow could test it?"
"Good idea," he said. "Try to get some rest, too." He turned toward his room and nearly tripped over the sleeping body of Andrew. "What is he doing here?"
"I told him I was staying 'til you got back, and he didn't want to leave me here alone," she said.
"Huh. He's leaving now, right?"
"Yes," said Dawn. She leaned over and shook Andrew lightly. "Andrew? Time to go."
"Sleeping," he mumbled.
"Time to go," she said.
He opened his eyes slowly. "Dawn? Was the mission successful?"
She bit her lip. "I'll tell you about it on the way home," she said.
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Willow checked herself out of the hospital as soon as the doctors would let her. She and Buffy headed home and found Xander in the kitchen reading the apartment listings.
"How's the Willster?" he asked. "Any more swooning?"
"Nope!" said Willow. "Maybe a little queasy, but I think that's from the hospital food."
"Some things should not be floating in Jello," agreed Buffy.
"I'm all good. It was just a flu thingy. Hey, how's your apartment hunt going?," asked Willow.
"The ones I saw yesterday were okay. Unfortunately most have no dogs, no cats, no god-kings allowed."
"You took Illyria!" exclaimed Willow. "Did'ja ever think that might not be the best idea?"
Xander shrugged. "She wanted to come along. I didn't expect her to threaten the landlord with evisceration."
"Who wants waffles?" asked Buffy. Xander and Willow turned to her.
"Evisceration makes you think of waffles?" asked Xander.
"Hey, I've been at the hospital with Wil all night. All I can think about is food." She pulled a box of waffles from the freezer and held it up. "You in?"
"Sure," he said.
"Me too," said Willow. Buffy popped two waffles in the toaster as Dawn walked in the door, shoes dangling from her hand. Andrew followed her, his suit wrinkled and his tie hanging loose. "Hey guys."
"You're just getting home now?" asked Buffy. "Long night at work?"
"Yeah," said Dawn tiredly. "Xander, could you give Andrew a ride home? The bus to his place doesn't start running for another hour."
"No problem," Xander replied.
"Buffy's cooking breakfast," offered Willow. "Want waffles?"
"Sure," said Dawn.
"You're cooking?" asked Andrew warily.
"Defrosting, with a little toasting," Willow assured him.
"Oh! That should be safe," he said. Buffy glared at him. "For... my new diet. I can't eat anything cooked from scratch. Just frozen things. It's, uh, the latest thing in New York."
"Right," Buffy said, but let it go.
Dawn took Julia's necklace carefully out of her purse. "Willow, do you think you could take a look at this necklace? See if it has any magical properties, or affiliations?
"Sure!" said Willow. She took the necklace from Dawn and looked it over. "I don't recognize the symbol, but I can check if it's magical."
"How do you do that?" asked Xander. "Does magic leave a trail, like snails?"
"Not exactly," Willow replied. "I use a spell to detect it. It's kind of like, I try to send a very small amount of magic through the object, and if there's magic in it, then it bounces back. Kind of like radar."
"Neat!" said Dawn.
Willow held the necklace in front of her. "Detego!" she said.
This time, Xander caught her as she fell.
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“Sir?” the smartly dressed teenager said. “Lord Nivel, sir?”
The middle-aged man with the authoritative bearing glanced over at the boy, and then turned back to the singular window in his office. “Brad. Come over here.”
Brad did as he was asked.
“What do you see out there, Brad?”
“A city. San Diego. That which we will liberate from its petty tethers.”
A rueful smile crossed Nivel’s mature face. “I see lies. I see the lies fed to us by a society that has no concept of true glory. I see the lies that took our dear Julia away from us, that forced our hand with her.” He shook his head. “It was unfair of me, perhaps, to expect that all of you would remain true until our purpose was fulfilled.”
“Not at all, sir,” Brad said. “You have done all you can for us, for this.”
“Have I?” Nivel asked. “Never mind. I assume you’re here to tell me that the witch’s power has been properly leashed.”
“Yes, sir. And we’ve filled the tunnel below the mission with concrete.” He bit his lip. “Also, there’s a little problem with - ”
“I know. The body was discovered. I suspected this might happen. I’m unconcerned.” He lifted a dark blue robe off a peg on the wall. Other than the placard on his door, this was the one thing that indicated his status as Lord Prefect of the Brotherhood of Renraw. “Time for service, Brad,” he said quietly. Brad nodded and scuttled off to fetch his own robe.
Nivel put the garment on and ran his hands along the sides to smooth it out a bit. He walked out of the office onto a metal balcony overlooking the floor of an abandoned warehouse. Milling below were dozens of robed men and women, all wearing runic necklaces.
Nivel spread his arms apart. “In the name of The Reborn One!” he shouted.
“In the name of The Reborn One!” called back the throng.
Nivel smiled at his brethren. The time was indeed nigh. And anyone in the way would suffer.
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