Chapter 5

“I’ve listened: and all the sounds I heard/Were music,—wind, and stream, and bird./With youth who sang from hill to hill/I’ve listened: my heart is hungry still…I’ve thought: but in my sense survives/Only the impulse of those lives/That were my making. Hear me say/‘I’ve thought!’—and darkness hides my day.” ~Siegfried Sassoon, “Alone”

Buffy heard Spike’s groan as the doorbell rang. “Don’t answer it.”

“Good plan.” He tugged her closer. “I’m all for it.”

It rang again, more insistently this time, and it was her turn to groan. “Why can’t they go away and leave us alone?” she demanded.

“There’s no rest for the wicked.” Spike pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “And the righteous don’t need any.”

“I’d like to argue with that.”

He smiled. “So would I. I’ll just go tell them to bugger off then. Stay right there.”

Buffy did as he said, waiting for him for the next five minutes. When he didn’t return, she rose and pulled on the clothing she’d worn last night. As she moved down the hall, she swore she could hear sobbing. “Spike?”

He was sitting on the couch next to a teenage girl, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder as she cried. “Buffy, I—”

“I’ll get some water,” she said. Once she’d filled a glass, Buffy went back to the living room and held it out to the girl. “Here.”

The teen took it and sipped in between gulps of air. “I had to come.”

Buffy exchanged a look with Spike. “What do you need?” Spike asked. “Is there someone after you?”

“You’ll protect me, right?” She looked at Spike pleadingly. “I came here because I thought you would.”

“Uh…” For just a moment, Spike appeared to be on the verge of panic. “Of course. You just sit tight, and we’ll take care of this.”

He rose and pulled Buffy into the kitchen. “What the hell was that?” she hissed.

“I don’t know.” Spike ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “She shows up at the door, says she’s Dawn, and don’t I know her? I’ve never seen her before in my life!”

Buffy took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “Okay. Okay. We’ll find out where her parents are, and why she thinks you were going to protect her once she’s calmed down. Then, we’ll take her where she needs to go. It’s as simple as that.”

Spike gave her a dirty look. “Aren’t you the one always telling me not to jinx things?”

Buffy winced. “Whoops?”

~~~~~

Willow’s legs were tangled with Wesley’s, and she was utterly content. She pulled herself closer, one hand stroking his bare chest.  “Hey.”

“Good morning,” he murmured. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good.” Willow took a deep breath. “It’s Saturday, you know. No classes.”

“What did you have in mind?” Wesley’s smile said that he already knew.

She grinned at him. “I think it’s a good day to stay in bed.”

The ringing of the phone proved that the universe had a sense of humor. Wesley sighed and reached for the phone. “This had better be good.”

Willow moved just a little so that she could hear the voice on the other end of the phone, and recognized Spike. “It’s good. I just had a fourteen-year-old girl spin a story that I’m having a hard time with. She says her name is Dawn Summers, and that she’s supposed to be Buffy’s sister.”

“Buffy doesn’t have a sister,” Wesley replied automatically.

“That’s exactly what we said, but the kid insists that she is. She’s pretty hysterical, as maybe you can imagine if you remembered being someone that nobody else remembers.”

Willow winced when she thought of what that might be like. After years of living on the Hellmouth, her imagination was pretty good. Apparently, Wesley could imagine it, too. “Do you think it has something to do with the prophecy?” he asked.

“You tell me. That’s why I called you.”

“I’ll do whatever I can for you. Let us grab our things, and we’ll be right over.”

Amusement colored Spike’s tone. “Sorry for the interruption. Buffy and I were similarly engaged.”

“It’s good to know that we aren’t alone in our annoyance.” Wesley hung up the phone and looked at Willow. “Rain check?”

“Of course.” She was already scrambling out of bed. Willow located the clean clothes she’d brought over the night before. “What do you think this is about Wes?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted. “It makes very little sense.”

They both finished getting ready in silence, Willow’s quick mind mulling over the possibilities. By the time they made it to Spike’s place, she had about five theories, each one more outlandish than the last.

She pushed open the door, since Wesley had his arms full of research materials. “Hello?”

“In the kitchen, Will.”

Buffy was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, watching a teenage girl with wary eyes. The teen did bear some resemblance to Buffy—and Joyce, actually—but not so much that Willow would have assumed they were related had she seen them on the street.

The girl was eating scrambled eggs and toast slowly, her eyes red from weeping, and Willow caught the look that Wesley and Spike exchanged. She was amused, and not for the first time, at how they were able to communicate without words.

Spike had just emptied a frying pan onto two plates. “You two help yourselves. I’m sure you didn’t get a chance to eat before you left.”

“No, we didn’t,” Wesley replied, grabbing both and sitting down at the table.

“Dawn, this is Wesley and Willow, friends of ours.” Buffy made the introductions, her tone gentle. “They’re going to help us figure out what’s going on.”

“I told you what happened,” Dawn insisted. “I’m not crazy.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you told Spike, Dawn,” Wesley suggested gently. “It might help us understand what happened.”

Dawn’s eyes filled with tears again. “I don’t know what happened. I was—” She shook her head. “My name is Dawn Summers. My sister’s name is Buffy, and Spike is supposed to protect me. He promised to protect me.”

“What’s the first thing you remember?” Wesley coaxed.

Dawn shook her head. “This morning. I was—I don’t know where I was. I came here because—”

“Because Spike would protect you.” Buffy finished the statement, her tone both gentle and somewhat exasperated. Willow got the feeling that’s about all Dawn had been able to say. Clearly, whomever or whatever had messed with Dawn had impressed upon her the fact that Spike would protect her.

Wesley’s eyes went wide. “The guardian. Spike!”

Spike frowned. “That seems a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”

“What is?” Dawn looked from Spike to Wesley. “What’s going on?”

“We don’t know, Dawn,” Spike said quietly. “But we’re going to figure it out. I can promise you that. Now, why don’t you go watch TV. I’ll bet there are some Saturday morning cartoons still on.”

She glared at him. “I’m not a baby.”

He raised one eyebrow coolly. “No? Then I’m sure you’ll understand that we need some time to talk and to decide on the best course of action, and you’ve given us all the help you can.”

Willow was impressed when Dawn nodded and slipped out of the room. Within a few seconds, they heard the television. “Okay, how much experience do you have with teenagers?” Willow asked in a low voice.

Spike shrugged. “I’ve corralled a few in my day.” He turned to Wesley. “Whether she’s the key or not—and I’m not convinced that she is—our first step is to decide what we’re going to do about her.”

“If she is the key, we have to protect her, and to do that, we’ll have to keep her close.”

“That goes without saying.” Spike gave Wes a sour look. “But how would you suggest we do that? From what I can tell, she keeps insisting that she’s someone we all know doesn’t exist.”

“Maybe that’s who she is.” Willow knew she was going out on a limb. “Sherlock Holmes would say that once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“I don’t have a sister.” Buffy was clearly exasperated. “At least not yet. And when Mom has her baby, he or she won’t be fourteen!”

Willow leaned forward. “You don’t remember a sister. None of us remember you having a sister. That doesn’t mean that Dawn wasn’t made to be your sister.”

Wesley leaned back in his chair. “What do you suggest, Willow?”

“Two things: science and magic. I think we should do a DNA test to see if she’s some relation to you. At the same time, we can figure out if someone put a spell on her. She thinks she’s your sister. So, either someone took a girl and made her think that, or somebody made her.”

Wesley let out a low whistle. “That would be some incredibly powerful magicks either way.”

“That makes it imperative that we find out what’s going on.” Spike’s eyes glittered. “I want to be prepared—and I’m getting a little tired of having my head messed with.”

“I’ll talk to Tara,” Willow said. “She can help Wes figure out what’s going on magically. I’ll take care of the DNA tests.”

Buffy’s eyebrows rose. “You can do that?”

Willow grinned. “I can do all kinds of things.”

~~~~~

Giles put the newly purchased books in one of the sacks emblazoned with the name of his shop. “Come again!” he called, trying to sound cheerful as the elderly woman left.

Glancing at the clock, he realized that Anya should be in at any moment to relieve him. He was supposed to meet Joyce to spend a quiet afternoon together. Between their businesses and Slayer business, such moments were all too rare.

Anya breezed through the door right on time. “Hello.”

“Anya. Thank you for coming in early.”

“You’re the one paying me,” she pointed out cheerfully.

The bell above the door rang again, and this time Wesley strode in, the expression on his face not boding well for Giles’ plans for a quiet, celebratory evening in. “What’s wrong, Wesley?”

“Is there a place we can talk?”

“Come back to the stock room. Anya?”

“I’ll take care of it.” She stuffed her purse in a cabinet and took his seat on the stool behind the counter while Giles led Wesley to the back of the store.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have a small problem.” Wesley sighed. “What do you know about revealing spells already in place?”

Giles ran a hand through his hair, giving it some thought. “What I know is mostly theoretical. There are ways to do that, of course, and I know of a few sources you might start with, but I have no hands-on knowledge, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine. If you could point us in the right direction, we could at least make a start at it.”

“What’s going on, Wesley?”

The younger man ran a hand through already-disheveled hair. Giles realized that his clothing was rumpled, and it didn’t appear as though he’d shaven. Although neither of those details were wholly unusual, he felt a stirring of alarm.

This was supposed to have been a quiet afternoon for all of them, and Giles had developed a sixth sense for trouble over his years on the Hellmouth.

“A girl showed up on Spike’s doorstep this morning, claiming to be Buffy’s sister and insisting that he was supposed to protect her. As you can imagine, we are all somewhat confused.”

Giles frowned. “Buffy does not have a sister.”

“That is what we have all said at some point.” Wesley sounded frustrated. “Willow suggested that we examine both the magical and physical evidence. Dawn is convinced that she is telling the truth, just as we are convinced that she is not—or at least that something has interfered.”

“I see.” In a moment, a thousand possibilities had run through his head, each one more terrible than the last. “Is it possible that this is some sort of Trojan horse?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Wesley’s expression was as grim as it had ever been. “I sincerely hope not, Giles. This girl—well, when you see her you’ll understand. She looks as normal as Buffy or anyone else. To think that someone might have created her, or that they may have twisted a child to their own ends…”

It was a horrible thought, but Giles had seen enough horrible things to know that it was possible.

“I’ll get you the books you’re most likely to need. What other avenues are you pursuing?”

“Willow is seeing about DNA testing,” Wesley replied, following Giles out into the main area of the store. “I appreciate the loan.”

“Of course. I don’t know why I haven’t moved most of them to a central location yet.”

“Because the store is nearly always open?” Wesley suggested.

“Not to everyone.” Giles pulled several volumes from the shelves behind the counter. He kept the rare volumes back there, the ones that weren’t for sale, or that needed to be protected from careless hands.

“What are you looking for?” Anya asked, her curiosity piqued by the titles.

“Something to reveal spells that have been cast,” Wesley replied absently, already turning the pages in the top volume.

Anya frowned. “That’s not the book you’ll need.” She closed it, nearly snapping Wesley’s finger in the cover. “Try this one.”

It was the third volume down, and Anya rotated it so that she could read it right side up. “There.”

“Tirer la couture?” Wesley read. “Ah, I see!”

“Demons hated that spell.” Anya’s voice took on the tone that it did when she was reminiscing. “Cloutier was so cute in his little knickers.”

Wesley perked up, entranced by the chance at getting a chance to get a firsthand history lesson. “You knew him?”

“Oh, yes. We spent a few nights together, although it was never going to work out.”

Anya had a familiar gleam in her eyes, and Giles cleared his throat to interrupt any other revelations—such as sexual predilections or how many orgasms Cloutier had delivered. He’d already learned far too much about Xander, and he had no desire to duplicate the experience, even if the man was long dead.

“Have you seen it work before?”

Anya shrugged. “I’ve never needed to use it, but I’ve heard enough demons grumbling about it that I have to assume it does. Of course, it requires a trance, and the better you are at dropping into a trance, the clearer you’ll see.”

“I can handle it, or I’ll ask Tara to help. She was supposed to come over to research anyway.” He glanced up at Giles. “Do you mind?”

“No, go right ahead.” Giles watched Wesley leave the shop, already deep in thought about the mechanics of the spell and the required ingredients. He wondered how it was that he could feel both relieved that some of the burden of being Buffy’s Watcher had been lifted, and so irrelevant, all at the same time.

“Xander is going to be upset again,” Anya observed.

“Why is that?”

“He’s being left out.”

“I thought that he was working today.”

“He is.” Anya shrugged. “That doesn’t mean he won’t feel left out.”

Giles hid a sigh. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

~~~~~

Xander looked around the spacious apartment, wondering if he should have brought his friends with him.

Scratch that. He definitely needed to bring his friends, and Anya, but he’d seen the for rent sign and had gone to the manager’s office on a whim.

He had a job. In fact, he was being promoted. It was everything he’d wanted, and it gave him a chance to get out of the basement and make something of his life.

Xander was going to prove his father wrong.

“This looks great,” he said enthusiastically.

“I have the application right here,” the manager replied with a smile, handing him a clipboard. “Would you like to fill it out now?”

“Ah…” Xander hesitated. “Actually, I was hoping to come back with my girlfriend if that’s okay.”

“You can take the application with you.” Her smile faded, and Xander tried and failed to remember her name. “Just remember that spaces fill up fast.”

“Right.”

He walked out of the complex still dazed. Xander hadn’t called anyone to tell them the news yet—he’d been too busy working. The new position carried more responsibility, and he was having a hard time picturing himself in that role.

How was he supposed to direct others when he felt like a complete idiot himself so much of the time?

Glancing at his watch, Xander realized that Anya wouldn’t be off for another couple of hours, but Spike’s place wasn’t too far out of the way. He had to tell someone the good news, and he hoped that they would respond by telling him that it was about time someone recognized his potential.

His brisk knock was answered by a girl Xander didn’t recognize, and he had to wonder if he was at the right house, even though he’d been there half a dozen times before. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She didn’t move.

“Dawn, who is it?” Buffy’s voice reassured Xander that he wasn’t in the wrong place.

“It’s me.”

“Oh, come in, Xander.” She appeared at the door, a dishtowel in her hands. “We just ate if you’re hungry. There’s some leftover Chinese.”

“Sure.” He eyed the girl with ill-disguised curiosity. “I thought you guys were having a quiet day in. I figured you wouldn’t answer the door if you were busy.”

“We’re busy, but not that way.” She appeared distracted. “You had to work today, right?”

“The boss had a project with a Monday deadline. It was extra money.” Xander was dying to blurt out his news, but he held his tongue. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a situation.” The explanation was vague to say the least, and he shifted in the kitchen chair. “The others went out for supplies.” As though realizing that she hadn’t yet made the introductions, Buffy said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Xander, this is Dawn. Dawn, this is Xander.”

“Hi.” He knew it was lame to repeat the same greeting he’d used when Dawn had opened the door, but she did the same, wandering out to the living room to go back to watching TV. “What’s going on, Buffy?”

“It’s a long story.” She sighed. “There’s a prophecy, we think. You heard about the number the Council did on Spike?”

Xander nodded. “Giles filled me in the last time I went by the bookstore. It doesn’t sound good.”

“Things are getting more complicated.” Briefly, Buffy told him about Dawn’s arrival on Spike’s doorstep, and what her story was, but Xander could see the problem.

“How do we know she’s okay?” he whispered. “She might be, I don’t know, a bomb or something.”

“We’re going to do a spell. Tara and Wesley went out for supplies, and Spike went to check some sources he thought could help. Willow took a DNA sample from both of us, and that leaves me here alone. Well, with Dawn.” Buffy looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time since he’d walked in the door. “What brings you by, Xander?”

Xander hesitated. In the face of her news, his seemed unimportant, but he knew that Buffy would have the desired reaction. “I got promoted today.”

When she threw her arms around his neck with a squeal of delight, Xander returned her embrace with a grin. Maybe his life wasn’t filled with huge, important things as Buffy was, but he was glad to be able to erase her worry, at least for a little while.