Part 2
Routine was good. Routine him let get though the day without thinking.
Routine helped the days slip by, and blend together. Until one was so much
like another that you could lose a week without realizing you had lived
through it, or at least survived. It had been two weeks since Buffy died;
two weeks since Anya left. Xander wondered if he would measure the rest of
his life in relation to that day. When he was sixty, would it be forty
years since That Day? Who the hell was he kidding? He wasn’t going to see
sixty. He’d be lucky to see twenty-five. That was why Anya had left.
His routine started at 5:00 am. on weekdays, now. He was showered, shaved
and on the site by six every morning. He had been surprised at how quickly
he had changed everything. One day he met with his boss; to apologize for
missing work, yes, another funeral, yes it’s his family. Then he’d stopped
and looked the man in the eye, and told him everything. Not about the key,
not about Glory, about, Joyce, about Dawn and Buffy. About what it felt
like to be looked up to, as a big brother, by a girl whose whole existence
had been shaken, to its very core. About how lost, he felt without Buffy,
how strong she had been when they had watched Joyce slip through their
fingers. How he felt he had failed her. How he had to be there for Dawn,
he owed it to her, to Buffy, to Joyce, to himself. He hadn’t expected the
promotion. He hadn’t expected anything and had wondered when the words were
pouring out of his mouth, why he was burdening this man with his grief, his
shame. Now Xander opened the site every morning. His first four hours were
spent at a desk, in front of a computer, Willow would be so proud. He
managed the crew, the supplies, tracked the progress of the work, prepared
reports for payroll and by the time the boss made it in from his morning
meetings had up-to-date information for him on every aspect of the job. As
someone who had hated school, Xander was amaze at how quickly he had
mastered the spreadsheets and databases. But the best part was he was off
by 3pm every day. Just in time to swing by the school and pick up Dawn.
Dawn wasn’t having problems in school anymore, now that she was going. And
hadn’t that been surreal, Xander Harris at a parent teacher conference with
Dawn’s guidance counselor. Well Spike was out, ‘cause sun, duh, and the
nasty tendency to attack anyone who appeared to threaten the Dawnster. And
Giles well they all were walking wary with Giles, he would have done
anything for Buffy, died for her, but living without her was an entirely
different matter for Rupert Giles. Willow said he just needed time. Willow
had also deemed that letting Ripper get his hands on any school staff, other
than Principal Snyder, to be not of the good. Since Xander remembered that
this counselor had managed black mail Buffy with the threat of child
welfare, into becoming control freak slayer, he took the meeting. After
all, he had a secret weapon. He had clocked a hell of a lot of field time
in that office or the one like it in the old school. Even if she
recommended removing Dawn that day, he knew the Sunnydale social services
were just as blind as everyone else in this hellhole and Dawn would probably
be eighteen before any action was taken. Case in point, somewhere in the
debris of the old high school, which he had rigged the explosives on, and
wouldn’t the overly concerned lady have loved that piece of information, was
a thick file on Alexander L. Harris, which had started to recommend his
removal from his home in, what was it, seventh grade?
So he said he would field this one. That afternoon instead of waiting in
the car for Dawn, he had gotten out and leaned against the door. Arms folded
across his chest, eyes cast down at the ground he wondered if he should have
worn his suit. No, the only time he had recently had been the funerals.
Dawn didn’t need that. He had worn black jeans and a black tee shirt, after
taking of the work shirt he had worn over it he figured he was clean and
presentable, it would have to do. He was brought out of his ponderings of
the fashion do’s and don’ts of the parent part of the parent/teacher
conference, but a burst of giggles from a flock, ‘gaggle? herd?’ of teenage
girls. ‘God, was I ever that young.’ Dawn broke off from the group, looked
both ways ‘good girl’ and crossed the street to were he was parked.
“Is something wrong?” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth.
“No! No. Nothing bad, just have to meet with you GC, you know, just standard
stuff.” He gave his biggest smile. He also resolve to point out to said GC
that she was putting undo stress on Dawn at a time when life was doing that
all by itself.
“Is this about...? She told Buffy...I don’t... oh Xander...” Dawn blinked
rapidly, in an attempt to dry her tear filled eyes.
Xander put both hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. He
leaned forward and until their foreheads almost touched. “Stop. Right now.”
His tone of voice, so soft, as if he was afraid to frighten her. He gave
her a gentle shake and continued. “I’m not Buffy. Buffy wasn’t a
troublemaker. Buffy was a good student who wanted to fit in; it was just the
whole saving the world thing got in the way sometimes. You know, you’re a
lot like her.” That earned him a sniffle and a shaky smile.
“Am not.” But Dawn didn’t sound very convincing.
“Are too.” Xander followed that up with a mild head butt, forehead to
forehead, to stop any further protest. “Just play along; agree with
anything I say we’ll deal with anything you disagree with when we get back
to the magic shop. The important thing is to show a united front. This lady
isn’t going to know what hit her. We’re Scoobies, remember?” He slung one
arm across Dawn’s shoulders and steered her back toward the school. Which
oddly enough, earned another burst of giggles from the girl gaggle. ‘Well,
what is that about, they couldn’t have overheard our conversation from
there.’ He thought.
Inside Dawn led the way to the office. Xander was surprised he wasn’t
nervous. He had been last night, with Willow during her coaching/strategy
session. He had been today whenever it crossed his mind. Right up until
Dawn had come up to him looking all scared and vulnerable, like she was
steeling herself for some fresh new horror. Maybe, as the key, she had the
super power to gift those around her with amazing adultlike abilities. He
winked at her when she turned to look at him before opening the office door.
She gave him back a conspiratorial smile.
He shook hands with the nice guidance counselor, giving her the smile he
used when interviewing people he knew were not qualified enough to get the
position. He hoped the smile didn’t say ‘how soon can I get rid of you so I
can get on to more important things,’ but since her smile faltered when she
suggested Dawn wait outside while they talked, maybe it did.
“She’s not a pet. Don’t you think it’s cruel to expect her to wait outside
when you and I are deciding her fate? I think her input on this matter is
critical.” Xander was proud. He hadn’t cross his arms over his chest. He
hadn’t closed his stance. He had pitched his tone into the calm, reasoning
tone he had developed for explaining bizarre human customs to Anya. If only
Willow could have seen him, he had remembered all the nonverbal cues she had
stress.
“Don’t loom Xander, and keep you body open, you want to appear accepting and
willing to negotiate.” Willow had been pushing his shoulders back and tugged
him forward by his belt loop.
“Keep my body open? Will, that sounds obscene.” Which had earned a Spike
snicker, since the three of them were on patrol together. Supposedly, they
were looking for vampires, but in actuality they had been scouring the town
for any of Glory’s left over obsequious little minions.
Willow, of course, ignored it and continued her instructions. “Don’t cross
your arms, and if you sit down don’t cross your legs.”
“Ah, Will, I’m a guy.” He really hoped this wasn’t news to her.
“I know that. I just don’t want you to scare her Xand.” The witch looked up
at him with an earnest expression of concern. That expression was becoming
too familiar.
“Will? We are talking about me, right?” That earned him a small smile from
the tiny witch. Willow smiles were becoming quite rare. Even small ones
were worth major points.
“It’ll be just fine, you’ll see.” He reassured her.
“It had better be whelp. No one is taking Dawn.” Spike stalked ahead in a
swirl of leather, after lobbing his threat. Xander pulled Willow in under
his arm and they had followed him through the dark back alleys of Sunnydale.
Willow had keep up a steady steam of ‘nonverbal message,’ and ‘red flag’
words and negotiation techniques. Xander didn’t tell her that he didn’t
intend to offer up a compromise. He whole-heartedly agreed with Spike. No
one was taking Dawn, not now, not ever.
The interview with the guidance counselor had lasted forty minutes. They
smiled. They both thanked each other for making the time for the meeting.
Both of them, lied through their teeth. Xander said he appreciated her
attention to Dawn considering how many other students for which she was
responsible. She said that just meeting Xander was the weight off her mind
in regard to Dawn. In politically correct language couched in some of
Willow’s Psych 101 speak and various catch phrases gleaned from his
companies human resourse manual, he had told her to back off, she was making
a bad situation worse, and that he would not hesitate to bring her part in
any damage to Dawn recovery before a review board. Judging by the forced
smile she gave Dawn and him as they left her office, Xander was sure this
woman would go to any lengths not to have to meet with him again.
Dawn said she wanted Chinese, so he told her to get the menu for Ling’s
Hunan out of the glove compartment. He knew Willow preferred Cantonese, but
Ling’s was near the blood bank, and it was Thursday. Thursday was the night
Laura worked late at the blood bank. It was only five o’clock so Xander
gave Dawn money and let her go into Ling’s by herself. He told her he
wouldn’t be long and that he would be back to help her carry it all.
Swinging an empty cooler by its handle he walked the two blocks to the
office of the Sunnydale Blood Bank.
There had been a bloodmobile, parked across from the site about a month ago.
He hadn’t intended to donate, he just stopped by to see who was suicidal
enough to staff a vampiric meals on wheels in Sunnydale. He had been at a
loss for words when a tall redhead had tug on his arm and said “C. O. T. H.’
almost like a cheerleader. Now, wasn’t that blast from the past? How many
other graduating classes could boast the rallying cry ‘Children of the
Hellmouth’. She gave a throaty chuckle, which would have sounded evil to
someone who didn’t know Spike. “General Harris how the hell are you?”
And he’d been good. Good as in his girlfriend was waiting for him to pick
her up from work. Good as in he still believed that somehow they could make
it through the Glory thing intact. So he had donated blood. How could he
not with Laura Brendon’s full laugh, punctuating her own view of life on the
Hellmouth and her polite but disinterested questions about how everything
was with his ‘crew’. While they caught up, and he scanned the mandatory
reading material, he had asked about what they did with the blood it
mentioned they would not use if the test were inconclusive.
“Thinking of changing you diet, General?” Her tone of voice was light, but
he was reminded of the girl who had shown up at the briefing before
graduation. It had been the first time he remembered seeing her without her
nose buried in a science fiction paperback. She had been carrying a very
large, very sharp katana.
“It’s not what you think. Well it is what you think. But it’s complicated.”
At the time he hadn’t even know why he ask. He looked into her gold-green
eyes and wondered for a moment if he was about to be doused with holy water.
“Do you trust me?” He asked.
After a pause that felt as if she was weighing is soul against a feather she
said, “Yeah I do. It’s just medical waste. How much do you want?”
“Can I let you know?” It had been that simple. She had given him her card.
He called her after Buffy died. And now Thursday afternoon was part of
his routine. He stopped by the blood bank and gave the cooler to Laura and
she gave it back filled with bags of human blood. Some of it had minor
drugs like that donors had overlook, nothing serious, diet pills, allergy
medicine just enough to make it not good for other humans.
“Kelly, Xander. Xander, Kelly.” Laura nodded the introductions as she bough
the cooler back. Xander though Kelly, a dark hard man about his height with
a full goatee would have appeared less threatening if he wasn’t holding a
two handed broad sword. ‘Sci-Fi geek meet Ares, Ares meet sci-fi geek, talk
about a match made in heaven,’ Xander thought.
“Thanks. This means a lot.” And it did. The steady diet of human blood was
making a real difference in the speed of Spike’s recovery from the repeated
poundings he had endured.
“Just promise you won’t carry that stuff around after dark” She said as she
held the door open for him. How she manage to convey concern for his safety
while still implying ‘get the hell out Kelly is going to show me his sword’
was really quite impressive. He should take notes, but not tonight.
In half an hour he and Dawn were back at the magic shop. Xander of course
was carrying diner of the Chinese and the bodily fluid ‘eww” variety. Dawn
at least carried her knapsack. Dawn bounced into the shop ahead of him, and
ran over to Spike who was waiting as he did every day for her.
“Xander made her cry!” Her voice conveyed awe, and he wasn’t sure if he was
more disturbed by the pleasure that awe gave him or by the fact that she
really seemed to believe he had made someone cry.
“I did not!” Where had this come from, she hadn’t mentioned the meeting in
the car? He thought, now that it was over, she hadn’t even been thinking
about it. So much for his ability to read the adolescent female.
“Did too.” She started to clear the research table. They had brought enough
food for Giles, and Willow and Tara when they stopped by.
“She was not crying.” Xander tossed a blood bag to Spike and took the rest
to the refrigerator in the back. This too had become part of their routine.
Dawn and he would run errands and end up back at the store. Spike, of all
people would make sure she did her homework, helping with anything language
or history related. Willow and Tara would stop by, and Willow would field
any math or computer related questions. While Dawn worked on homework,
Xander worked around the shop. He cleaned up, made minor repairs and was
even helping the witches transfer the inventory onto a database. Giles
hadn’t replaced Anya yet so they all pitched in to see that he wasn’t
overwhelmed.
“Her hands were shaking.” Dawn was still recounting the battle of the
guidance counselor to Spike, when Xander returned to the front room.
“Dawn, I just reasoned with her.” He handed Dawn a cold BlueSky Ginseng
Ginger Ale to go with her spring rolls and dumplings.
“Tell it to Willow. You had her so scared.” Xander rolled his eyes, not
sure if it was at Dawn’s exaggerations or Spikes snickering. He didn’t
score Spike snickers as high as Willow smiles, being that there was a higher
supply of said snickers, but it felt oddly good seeing that Spike wasn’t as
broken as he had seem That Day. As the three of them sat down at the table,
he thought, just maybe they would make it through this. Not back to where
they had been, but if they could just hold on to the routine, maybe they
would be all right.
Part 3
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