“…Whene’er the fate of those I hold most dear/Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,/O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer;/Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow:/Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed,/And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!/Should e’er unhappy love my bosom pain,/From cruel parents, or relentless fair;/O let me think it is not quite in vain/To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air!...” ~John Keats, “To Hope”

Quinn had spent nearly an hour in her shower, scrubbing every inch of skin, trying to forget what Dracula’s hands had felt like. She’d shed some tears as well; the violation of her mind had been much worse than the violation of her body.

She had been a prisoner inside her own skin, unable to disobey Dracula’s orders. Quinn had never been so frightened in her life, and she had been rescued by the very people she had been sent to spy on.

It was fear that had kept her inside her apartment for the last two days—not fear of Dracula, because he was dead. It was fear of running into the Sunnydale Slayer or one of her friends, and learning something that she would then have to report.

“What the bloody hell am I supposed to think?” she muttered, slamming her hand against the kitchen counter. Quinn grabbed a beer from the pantry and promptly lost her grip on the bottle.

“Shit, shit, shit.” She stared at the mess, feeling the tears threaten once again, and she jumped when the phone rang.

Taking a deep breath to get herself under control, Quinn grabbed the receiver. “O’Mara.”

“Quinn. What’s wrong?”

Her mother’s voice got the tears flowing again, and she bit her lip to prevent a sob from escaping. How was it that her mother knew that something was wrong from 1500 miles away?

“Mum, I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Claire O’Mara ordered. “Is this assignment too much for you? If you wanted to come out here—”

“No, no, I’m okay. It’s not the job.” The job was part of it, of course, but her parents couldn’t know of her doubts. If she disobeyed Travers’ orders, and they knew of it, they could be removed from active-Watcher status for not reporting that fact. And if they were removed, her fourteen-year-old sister would be left with a stranger.

“Quinn. Tell us what happened.” Now her father’s voice came on the line, and Quinn bit back a laugh that was half a sob. “You’ll have your mother on a flight to California tonight if you don’t.”

Since her father had spoken nothing but the truth, Quinn said, “I had a run-in with a vampire that shook me up some, but I’m fine.”

“Did you get bitten?” Claire asked.

“Not badly.”

“Did you meet the other Slayer?” Oscar O’Mara asked.

“And William the Bloody,” Quinn acknowledged.

There was a long pause, and Oscar said quietly, “Quinn, you know we trust you. You’ll do the right thing.”

Quinn swallowed. “What if I don’t know what the right thing is?”

“Then we trust you to figure it out,” Claire replied. “You know as well as we do that we wouldn’t have this job if your sister hadn’t been the one Chosen. If something happens, we’ll work it out.”

Quinn didn’t doubt that her parents would manage to do exactly that. She just wished she knew what her next step ought to be.

~~~~~

Giles regarded Dawn helplessly. Joyce had to work late at the gallery, and she had asked him to stay with the girl. He’d had a hard enough time with Buffy when she was Dawn’s age, but she had been his Slayer. Giles had nothing in common with this girl.

“How was your first day at school?” he finally asked, thinking that was probably a safe question.

Dawn shrugged. “It was okay. Nobody was mean.”

“Do you have any homework?”

“No.”

Giles didn’t know that he believed her, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to press her for information. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Is there something you would like to do?”

“Why can’t I stay with Spike?” Dawn’s blue eyes challenged him. “Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to be protecting me?”

Giles had to bite back his first response, which was, “Good question.” He would have liked nothing better than to send the girl to Spike’s house and have a chance to catch up on his reading.

“Perhaps you should call him,” Giles suggested. “If he doesn’t mind your company, I’ll drive you over there.”

“I can walk. It’s not that far.”

Giles knew that she was trying to assert her independence, and that it was a normal part of being a teen. At least that’s what Joyce had told him. He didn’t remember Buffy being like this, but then he’d been her Watcher and focused on her training. As the Slayer, Buffy had had a purpose that she actively pursued.

Dawn’s purpose was in what she was, with no required action on her part.

“I’ll call Spike.” She seemed happy enough with that option, and Giles decided that there was no point in feeling badly about Dawn not wanting to spend time with him.

“Can I spend the night over there?” Dawn called.

Giles remembered vaguely that spending the night somewhere was probably not an appropriate activity for a school night, but since it was Spike and Buffy, he thought it might be alright. They would make certain that she got to school on time, and he and Joyce would have an evening alone.

“I suppose that would be fine.”

“Spike said they would pick me up.” Dawn poked her head back into the living room. “I’m going to pack my bag.”

“He’ll take you to school in the morning?”

“He said that he has to drop Buffy off at college, so it won’t be a big deal.” Giles heard the thunder of her feet as she ran up the stairs, and for a moment he wished he had that sort of energy still.

He changed his mind immediately, remembering what life had been like for him at fourteen. There was no way he wanted to relive that period.

~~~~~

Dawn still felt unsettled and uncertain. It was weird to be at her mom’s house with just Giles. She liked him fine, but she didn’t think that he liked her.

And maybe she didn’t really like him. No one had exactly come out and told her what had happened—why no one remembered her, why her own memory was spotty, or why she had to pretend that she wasn’t actually Joyce’s daughter.

All they had said was that she was special, and that when they knew more, they would tell her, and then Buffy had promised that she would always be taken care of, but that she needed to stay with Joyce and Giles because it was more practical.

Dawn hadn’t argued because it felt right to stay with her mom and Giles. That was where she was supposed to be.

But it was still more fun with Spike and Buffy than it was with Giles.

She climbed into the backseat of Spike’s Mustang, pleased at the idea that he would be dropping her off at school the next morning. Arriving in such a cool car would definitely raise her status.

Right now, no one really knew what to think of her. Dawn had stuck to the story that Buffy and Spike had made up, but it was beyond weird. She was supposedly living with her dad’s ex-wife. Who did that?

“How was school, Dawnie?” Buffy asked, twisting around to face her.

Dawn shrugged. “It was okay.”

“Everyone treat you alright?” Spike asked. “If someone messed with you, you just say the word.”

She couldn’t hide the grin that formed. “No, nobody messed with me.”

“Let us know if things get too weird.” Buffy’s expression was sympathetic, and Dawn figured that if anybody knew “weird,” it was probably her sister. “Maybe we can help.”

“I’ll be okay.” Still, it made her feel better knowing that someone was there for her if things got bad. “Where are we going?”

“The Bronze,” Spike said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Dawn tried to play it cool. “No, I don’t mind at all.” Joyce never would have allowed her to go by herself, but if any of the kids from school saw her there, in the company of her older sister and very cool older boyfriend, Dawn would definitely gain in coolness.

She could use all the help she could get.

~~~~~

Wesley wasn’t certain that the Bronze was the best place to discuss Council spies, particularly with Dawn there, but they did need to talk about how they were going deal with Quinn.

“Are you sure?” Spike kept his voice down, trying to prevent Dawn from overhearing. Tara was talking to Dawn about her day at school, keeping the girl distracted from the hastily whispered conversation.

“Positive,” Willow whispered back. “The Council is definitely paying Quinn.”

“But why?” Buffy asked. “She’s not a Slayer; we know that much.”

“Who’s not a Slayer?”

As Wesley had suspected would happen sooner or later, Dawn had overheard the conversation. “A girl we rescued the other night.” Wesley could tell from Buffy’s expression that she was debating how much information to give the teen. “She said she was a demon fighter.”

“So, does that mean I could be a demon fighter?” Dawn asked.

“Over my dead body.” Buffy gave her a sharp look. “Spike and I are supposed to keep you safe.”

Dawn’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Teaching me to fight demons would be keeping me safe.”

“She has a point,” Tara said quickly, stepping in to defuse the situation. “Knowing self-defense is important in this town.”

“True enough,” Spike said easily. “We’ll talk about it.”

He smiled at Dawn, and Wesley recognized that look—it was the one that he used on particularly difficult clients to charm them into doing exactly what he wanted them to do.

“Okay.”

Apparently the illusion of a promise was all Dawn had needed, because she went back to scanning the crowd for other students her age. “Can I get another soda?”

“I’d like another drink, too,” Willow said. “I can get it. Do you want to come along, Dawn?”

Dawn followed the girl with Tara in tow, and Wesley heaved a sigh of relief. “We need to set up a meeting,” he said. “Without Dawn. I’ve been able to clarify the prophecy slightly—as much as a prophecy can be clarified, of course.”

“We’re helping Xander move in tomorrow afternoon,” Buffy said. “We can do it then.”

“We are?” Wesley asked. “I hadn’t heard about this.”

“You’re hearing about it now.” Spike smirked. “We weren’t sure this would be something up your alley, but now that we need to have a meeting, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

“And get out of some of the heavy lifting,” Wesley observed. “What time?”

“Four,” Buffy replied. “Xander and Anya are already, um…” She glanced at Spike.

“I think we know where Xander and Anya are,” Wesley said dryly. “So, tomorrow then?”

Spike nodded. “Dawn can stay with Rupert or Joyce. The bookstore isn’t a bad place for her to get her homework done.”

“I’m sure that Giles will love that,” Wesley said, smiling.

Buffy grinned. “It’ll be good practice for him.”

~~~~~

Xander didn’t have much in the way of furniture, nor did Anya, but between the two of them, they had managed to purchase what they would need. The bed and couch had been delivered the day before, and now they were in the process of moving everything else in.

“Where do you want this?” Spike asked, holding a box full of his Babylon 5 commemorative plates.

“Uh, the bedroom for right now, I guess.”

The parade of friends with boxes ensured that they would be moved in no time. “Hey, Anya? Do you know where the kitchen stuff is?”

“It’s in the kitchen,” she replied. “You didn’t have much.”

“Mom gave me a few things,” Xander replied. “It’s not like I had a kitchen before.”

Although his mom had been nice enough to give him a few things that would help get them settled in the new place, he’d gotten the vibe that she was just that happy to see him go.

“Okay, everything is inside,” Wesley announced, coming through the door with a last box. “Where would you like this one?”

Xander recognized the box of comics. “The closet, thanks.”

It took less than fifteen minutes for all of the boxes to be placed in the rooms they all belonged in. Xander grabbed the map he’d been put in charge of the previous year, and they all found seats around his new living room.

Looking around, he couldn’t quite believe that this was really happening—that he had his own place, and that his friends were there. It felt good.

“I grabbed the map like you asked.” Xander handed it to Willow.

She smiled. “Great. We’ll see what we can do to get Dawn on here.” Willow turned to Buffy. “I’ll need something of hers.”

Buffy nodded. “We can go by Mom’s place tonight and grab something.”

“How is that working out?” Xander asked. “Is she okay with your mom?”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know. She seems to be doing okay, but this whole situation is weird. Have you guys made any progress finding out who could be behind creating her?”

Tara shook her head. “There’s nothing, Buffy. We know that it’s probably not one person, because the spell would be too complex, and would require more power than one person would have.”

“That’s something, anyway,” Spike inserted. “Knowing that it’s more than one gives us a place to start.”

“A place to start, yes, but it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Wesley asserted. “We need more information.”

“Which we don’t have yet,” Buffy said. “Okay, so what do we know about Quinn?”

“She’s in at least one of our classes,” Willow began. “She approached Tara and me a week or two ago wanting the notes for the class. She said that she was a late transfer.”

Tara cleared her throat. “At the time, I sensed that something was off. I thought maybe she was conflicted about something, but I don’t know.”

Wesley frowned. “What was her last name again?”

“O’Mara,” Willow replied. “Do you know her?”

“No, but I think I know why she would be working for the Council. The O’Maras have been Watchers for generations. Giles might know her parents, as they would be his age.” Wesley ran a hand through his spiky hair. “I seem to recall that they had two daughters, but both were quite a bit younger than me.”

Buffy nodded. “I think we’ll go ahead and work with the theory that she’s been sent by the Council to spy on us, then.”

“Might not be a bad idea to confront her,” Spike stated.

Xander cleared his throat. “What if that scares her off? It’s probably better to know who’s spying on us.”

“Let’s play it by ear.” Buffy’s tone was that of Slayer-General; she had made the decision as to how they were going to deal with Quinn, and until new information came up, she wasn’t going to change her mind. “There’s nothing we can do right now, and Xander made a good point. I’d rather know who’s spying on me and be able to control the information she has.”

“Good.” Spike looked around the room. “Anybody hungry?”

Xander added his vote for pizza to the rest, feeling Anya’s warm weight resting against his side. She’d be antsy to get everybody to leave soon, although they had already taken the bed for a test run.

Still, Xander could wait, at least for the moment. Being here, among friends, and feeling as though he was part of things was enough.

~~~~~

Giles kept an eye on Dawn, wondering how he’d been stuck with watching her again, although he knew it was for a good reason. The bookstore was safe enough, and it was a better place for her to get homework done than the gallery would be.

He supposed he’d better get used to it. Unless new information revealed that Dawn’s metamorphosis was only temporary, she would be with them for a while.

The bell above the door rang, and he glanced up to see a middle-aged man enter, followed closely by another, younger man. “Hello. Can I help you find something?”

“We’re looking for Tara Maclay,” the older man said. “Some of the folks on campus said we might be able to find her here.”

Giles trusted his instincts; he’d spent years anticipating danger, and something did not feel right about this situation. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “There’s no one here by that name.”

Dawn rose from the small table in the center of the floor and wandered over to the register; Giles wondered if she would say anything to give Tara away, but she remained silent, regarding the two men with a suspicious stare.

“Do you know her?” the older man pressed. “Does she come here?”

Giles considered lying, but then discarded the idea. It was entirely possible that the men meant Tara no harm, and were in fact friends or family members. Still, there was something slightly menacing about their attitudes, and he put on his most pleasant expression, used for dealing with unruly customers.

“There are a lot of college students who come through the store,” he replied. “But yes, I do know Tara.”

“Do you know where I can find her?”

“I’d be happy to pass a message along to her,” Giles replied. He knew exactly where she could be found, but he wasn’t about to divulge her whereabouts until he knew this person’s agenda.

The man’s hard eyes searched his face, as though looking for any hint of falsehood or an ulterior motive. “We’ll find her on campus. We know where she lives.”

As the two men left the shop, Dawn asked the question that was running through his own mind. “Was that a threat?”

“I don’t know, Dawn.” Giles picked up the phone. “But I believe that we should warn Tara and the others that there were some unfriendly sorts asking after her.”

Until they knew more, that was all they could do.