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Chapter 2: “Dawn, I’d like for you to tell the others about you and Buffy.” Dawn leaned back in the blue velvet chair and stretched her arms up over her head. Ok, not one of her better delay tactics, but what was a girl surrounded by super-power-infused mutants to do? Not that she was worried they would be all judgmental-y. It wasn’t that. But where to begin? How much could she say? How could she convince them to help her and Buffy get home, wherever that was? The task was a little daunting. She trusted the professor. He was a good man. Anyone who would take in a bunch of misfits and turn them into a team dedicated to fighting evil mutants, in order to save humanity as a whole and not just his own kind, had to be good. And she believed that the others were good, too. The professor had chosen them. Trained them. Like in a Giles-y Watcher way. “Dawn?” “Oh. Sorry, professor. It’s kind of a long story. I’m just not sure where to start.” “Why don’t you tell us about Buffy?” Charles prompted gently. She turned and looked across the conference table at him, perplexed. “Buffy’s a hero. What else is there to know?” Scott leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, crossing his arms. “Charles told us that she is some kind of demon hunter.” Dawn turned in her seat to face the man who had been introduced to her as Scott Summers. A pool of sympathy welled inside her. He would never be able to look at the world, at another person, without his red quartz shades. In a way, he reminded her of Angel at Buffy’s funeral. He had just lost someone. She knew it. She could see it in the strain of his features. “A vampire slayer, technically,” she explained. “I mean, that’s her title. The Slayer. And she does slay demons, but Buffy’s not a hero because she kills bad guys.” “Then… why?” Scott asked. The man on her other side shifted uncomfortably and Dawn turned her head, taking him in over her shoulder. He had been the one to hurt her, to punch his knuckle razor-y things into her guts. Rationally, she knew it was an accident. But the only reason Buffy was two stories below her feet in intensive care, was because this guy had shit for self-control. Dawn glanced at his hands. He was supposed to have enhanced senses, too. Did he still smell her blood on his hands? On the floor? She did. It was hard to look at him. Hauntingly familiar. Too familiar. Dawn shrugged and looked around the table. “Maybe if you’re lucky. Maybe if you’re smart, and maybe if you’re brave enough, you’ll find out.” “So you love big sis and she loves you,” Logan grumbled. “Can we move on?” “Sure,” Dawn acquiesced. “But Buffy’s going to be a problem for you. You know that, right?” Logan nodded gravely. “Yeah.” “Don’t make it worse,” she asserted. He nodded sullenly. “I forgive you,” Dawn said, deciding it as she said it. “What?” he barked. From the other side of Scott, Remy asked, “Why would you do that, m’selle?” “You have to understand…” she said, faltering at the end. She didn’t want them to know about her key-ness. Not yet. The Scoobies hadn’t been told until their heads were filled with memories of time spent together, until they loved her already. Toying with her pencil, Dawn began again. “Buffy loves me. A lot. When Buffy was first called, our parent’s marriage struck ice and titanic’d. It was really scary. I thought it was her fault...” “You can tell them. You can trust them,” Charles whispered in her mind. Dawn sighed and put the pencil down, watching the professor out of the corner of her eye. “They had her committed. A few months later, dad walked out on us. Our mom moved us from LA to Sunnydale, Calfornia, also known among demons and a handful of people as ‘the mouth of hell’. And there is an actual mouth there, or there was. It’s a pathway to a very scary hell dimension… Anyway, a few years later, mom died. So aside from a few friends who managed to survive the hellmouth, even though I’ve never been up for sister of the year, I’m all she’s got.” Orroro tented her fingers. “What is the difference between hell and a hell dimension?” “There are lots of different worlds,” Dawn explained. “Layers of dimensions exist between heaven and hell. Some are more heaven-like, some are more hellish.” “Are you from this dimension?” Kurt asked. “I honestly don’t know,” she confessed with a shrug. “Maybe not, because I didn’t know about mutants until we got here. But if a big bad brought us here, they could have messed with our memories to throw us off. It’s a fairly easy spell to do.” “So what does this have to do with me? Why do I have to be here?” Logan asked Charles defensively. Dawn rubbed her eyes tiredly. She knew herself well enough to know that she was just looking for connections, as a way to understand the strangers around her. But more and more this guy was reminding her of Spike in a black mood. “Because we’re going to need help getting home. From everyone, even you.” “But-“ Logan began, and Dawn cut him off, “Just-ugh! Unless you drug her—seriously drug her until we’re able to go home—which I don’t recommend, by the way… Buffy’s about to wake up swinging. She’s a slayer. They’re all ‘hit first and ask questions later-y’. Especially Buffy, especially when it comes to me. Apparently, she’s not the only one...” “Yep,” Scott nodded a little too quickly. He was smart. He got it. She gave him her best ‘thank you’ smile. “That’s certainly true,” Kurt laughed. Logan glared at him. “Well, you are a… man of action, mein freund. “But I’m not,” Dawn acknowledged. “I think it would be best if it’s very clear to Buffy that you and I are cool. Not because I’m a big forgiver, I’m just… practical. I’ve had to be.” “What do you mean?” Orroro asked, her dark eyes reflecting genuine curiosity. “I’m not a larger-than-life superhero like Buffy,” Dawn admitted swiftly. “Or you guys. I’m a damned good researcher, strangely adept at dead languages, and pretty good with the magicks. Mostly, I’m support staff with a side of fighting skills. But she’s not always the easiest person to get along with. Her life’s been almost constant with the pain and fear for the last several years, and people who aren’t Buffy tend to forget. So I’ve had to accommodate her, cut her some slack, and smooth the way between Buffy and our friends as best I could.” “Oui,” Remy smiled. “You may be all those things. Mais, you must confess, you are more than pretty good with magick, petite.” “Oh,” Dawn blushed. “That wasn’t really… anything special. Buffy died once… well, twice. The second time it stuck. A few months later, our friend Willow resurrected her…” Around the table, everyone was silent. Then Charles nodded. “Go on.” “Willow didn’t know Buffy was in heaven. She thought Buffy was in the bad place, because of the way she died. So it’s possible to tear a soul out of heaven, if you have the power. And the ingredients for the spell.” “No!” Kurt cried. “How can this be?” Dawn shrugged sadly. “It just is. It’s all about free will. Strong will. And Will was stronger than the rules. She found a loophole.” “So I vas right. It does exist… Does your sister remember heaven?” Kurt rushed. “She did,” Dawn replied, swallowing the lump in her throat. “She does. She won’t admit it, but she misses it sometimes, even though it’s been years.” Once again, everyone was quiet, absorbing all that she had said. “So you want to know about me?” Dawn asked brightly, trying to lift the pall that her indiscrete words had brought down over all of them. Charles gifted her with his best sphinx-like smile. “I think they know everything they need to.” “Oh? Oh,” Dawn said, realizing he had just given her a compliment. “Good.” “Now, what do you recommend we do?” the professor asked. “It will be a while before Buffy’s injuries are healed. I understand that she heals quickly, but it would take a normal person at least six weeks to heal the organ and muscle damage, longer for the bones. So that means…” Dawn nodded. “It’ll probably take her a week or two before she’s 100%. She’ll want to get up, to get us home. Probably as soon as she opens her eyes.” Charles nodded. “Then it’s as I feared. How should we approach your sister? Where should we begin your journey home?” Dawn hesitated. “You should move Buffy to a real bedroom. Make her want to stay there. She hates hospitals.” “We are actually full to capacity right now,” Charles mentioned. “But perhaps we could re-arrange ourselves.” “She can have my room,” Logan grunted. “I’ll double with…” “You can share with me, mon ami,” Remy offered gallantly. “Good,” Logan agreed, as if he didn’t particularly care where he slept. “That’s very gracious of both of you. I’ll see that another bed is sent up,” Charles said absently. Gingerly, Dawn reached back and pulled her backpack off of the chair. Unzipping the top she pulled out two ancient looking tomes and laid them on the shiny wooden surface in front of her. Setting her backpack aside, she stood. “These are the only two books on demon lore I have with me. I’m not sure how much help they’ll be.” “What else do you have in there?” the professor asked, gesturing to her bag. “Nothing…” Dawn hedged, trying to understand what he was getting at. Rifling through the main compartment, she found her notebook, pens, and a rectangular box of DVDs at the very bottom. “Oh! This was something that we found in the Watcher Counsel / Papal Relations offices in Rome. I was going to show it to Buffy later tonight…” “What is it?” the professor asked gently. “Well, these guys—the Watcher’s—who were in charge of training, directing, observing, and recording the activities of each of the slayers throughout history, well… apparently they planted cameras all over Sunnydale, dating back from our first week in town.” “Truly?” Dawn smirked at Charles. “As if you didn’t know.” Then turning to the others with a look of disgust marring her delicate features, she explained. “These guys were really creepy. They even planted cameras in our house. Live feed directly to computers. I don’t know how they got some of the angles… But they used a spell to keep them running.” “So, in effect, we could watch your sister’s activities for the past few years?” Logan shifted in his seat, restless. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see the beautiful girl in the infirmary in action, or to know any more about her. Just the thought made him uncomfortable. “Sure,” Dawn replied skeptically. “But there’s a lot of footage. It would take four or five days nonstop to watch everything.” “Perhaps you could show us the highlights? There may be an old enemy at work here. Perhaps one your sister did not vanquish?” “Oh! Sort of a Hellmouth 101 class?” “Exactly.” Dawn hesitated, resting her hand on top of the box. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of private stuff. Buffy’s private stuff. And-and everyone here… will know. About me.” “You can trust them with your secrets, Dawn. I do.” Dawn considered their options for a few moments. Then, she relented and pushed the box across the table to Charles with a wry grin. “Somebody pop the popcorn.” Back to 'sita's Notes |
