Willow was putting the last of the dishes away from breakfast when the phone rang.
“Hello,” she said, into the receiver.
“Uh, Hello,” she heard a muffled voice reply. The voice was oddly distorted and Willow could barely make out what the other person was saying. “(static) Is, Kenn (static) avai (static).”
“I’m having trouble hearing you. Are you looking for Kennedy?”
“Yes (static).”
“Hold on, I’ll get her.” Willow set down the phone and went to find Kennedy in her training room. “Sweetie,” Willow said from the doorway. “There’s someone on the phone for you.”
Kennedy stopped hitting the punching bag she had been pummeling. Panting, she grabbed a bottle of water and took a big swig. “Thanks, babe, I’ll get it in here.” She went to pick up the phone. “Hello.”
“Hi, Kennedy, it’s Dawn. How are you doing?”
Kennedy was not surprised to hear from Dawn. After Dawn and Buffy had left, Kennedy and she had kept in touch. Of course Dawn and Buffy kept in touch with Willow and Kennedy, but when Dawn called Kennedy specifically she knew it was for purposes of a more mystical nature. Willow, as well as most of the Scooby gang, respected Buffy’s wishes and didn’t talk shop with Dawn any longer. But Kennedy, of course, thought Buffy was being ridiculous and talked shop with Dawn whenever she needed advice. They had even worked out a spell that automatically disguised Dawn’s voice whenever Willow answered the phone so she wouldn’t find out what Kennedy was doing. Kennedy felt badly about deceiving Willow, but she also felt badly for Dawn and wanted to help her.
“Hey, I haven’t heard from you in a while,” Kennedy answered. “Everything is fine here, how are things with you? Where are you these days?”
Willow began to walk back to the kitchen when she stopped. She was becoming a little suspicious of these mystery phone calls Kennedy kept getting. Kennedy always said they were calls from an old friend from school, but that was all she would say about the mystery caller. Willow didn’t mean to spy on Kennedy that afternoon, it just sort of happened. She felt slightly guilty as she stood there, eavesdropping on the conversation.
“Brussels,” Dawn answered. “I think I found something here. I have been searching each place we stop, you know checking out the local mystic hot spots, picking up reading material.”
“Uh-huh,” Kennedy answered, glancing at the door. Lowering her voice she whispered “She had another attack last night.”
“I know. I think Giles called before. I’m not sure but I heard Buffy fighting with someone on the phone this morning. He only calls nowadays when Willow is bad.”
Kennedy could hear the hurt in Dawn’s voice at this last statement. “What did you find?” she asked, pushing on.
“Well, I was looking in this book I picked up at this hole in the wall book store. It’s called Dalgin Ki?mse, which I believe is some form of ancient Turkish dialect. Roughly translated, it means The Lost Ones.”
“The Lost Ones.” Kennedy pondered this. Dawn was really a fabulous self-taught translator. Kennedy was always so impressed by her knowledge. Research was never something at which Kennedy excelled. She was more of a go and get ‘em kind of gal. She admired Dawn’s patience with the old texts she spent hours translating. “What does it say?”
“I am not quiet sure yet, but I have found out that the book was written by a philosopher named Ma’ukhil who was trying to deal with some sort of possession of a local tribal girl. He talks a lot about the girl being “possessed” by the spirits of “those who have gone under her trance.” But I’m not quiet sure what it means. I’m still look….” Kennedy heard a knock on the other end of the phone.
“Dawn, can I come in?” she heard someone ask, then the phone went dead.
Kennedy sighed and hung up the phone. She needed to call Giles on this one and find out more about these “lost ones.”
**********************
Dawn quickly hung on the phone. “Yes,” she answered.
Buffy slowly opened the door. “I was thinking, Brussels is getting old. What do you say we go to Paris?” she said smiling.
Dawn looked up at her sister. She was tired of moving, tired of not being able to do what she knew she was supposed to do with her life. It was her life, not Buffy’s, and she couldn’t wait till she was eighteen and could do with it as she pleased.
“That sounds nice,” she said forcing a smile.
“Good!” Buffy said. “Get packed. We head out first thing in the morning.”
Buffy left and Dawn looked around her sparsely furnished room. She didn’t own much. She couldn’t, they were always moving and she only had her two suitcases to pack in. Everywhere they went Dawn collected more books and had to leave behind more clothes to make room for them. She got up to begin her packing, trying to decide what books to take with her and what books to leave behind. She didn’t actually leave them behind, she secretly sent them to Giles in England, but they were as good as gone to her. She didn’t know when she would see them again. She was glad she could contribute the few books she was able to send, but sad she wouldn’t be there to look through them with the man she thought of as her father. Slowly she picked up the “Dalgin Ki?mse” and tossed it into her suitcase.
Dawn was just finishing sorting through the pile of books on her desk when she heard a knock on the door. She waited for Buffy to answer it. The knock came again. Buffy must have left, she thought. Going to the door she pulled it open.
“Hi.” The boy from last night was standing in front of her. “I know you remember what happened last night,” he said, holding the necklace out to her.
Dawn staired at him. He was very attractive with broad shoulders and light brown hair. His eyes were a deep brown and his skin bronzed from the hot may sun. “You should leave. If my sister finds you here she’ll freak!” Dawn said hurriedly.
“She’s not here, I saw her leave,” he said nonchalantly.
“Have you been following us?” Dawn said angrily. “’Cause that is way creepy.”
“Only since the restaurant,” he said smiling. “I wanted to talk to you. My name is Mikkel,” he added, extending his hand.
Dawn was just a little taken aback. She looked at his hand, then cautiously took it in her own to shake.
“And you must be Dawn. Or Umad, depending on the way you look at it,” he said, putting the necklace in her hand and walking into the apartment. “This place is a mess,” he commented, sitting on the couch and looking up at Dawn.
Dawn, looking like she was a deer stuck in headlights, closed the front door.
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