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Third, Draw Some Boundaries



My sister usually keeps her room neat, which is a big deal for a teenager.



I never kept my room that neat when I was a teen. I had to give up my disorganization when I became the Slayer though. Messy bedrooms are not conducive to hiding a secret identity from one’s parents. Because Mom ran an art gallery that had to be perpetually neat, she had a tendency to clean my room when I wasn’t home. Wouldn’t have been good for her to find wooden stakes and holy water in my underwear drawer or in the back of my closet when she hung up the clothes I used to pile on the floor.



Usually, I tease Dawn and tell her she got Mom’s neat-freak genes.



Not today.



Mr. Helmunde stands with his mouth agape.



And no wonder! Dawn’s normally spotless room is littered with all the candles we confiscated from Spike’s crypt, and most of them are covered in dust.



But that’s not the worst thing.



In fact, the dirt and candles are pretty minor.



Whenever she goes shopping, Dawn likes to drag the packages up to her room and dump them on her bed. She studies each purchase with the scrutiny of an antique dealer. After she’s had her “alone” time with each item, she puts them away.



Let’s just say that today she didn’t get to the putting away part.



And the giant box of condoms that I purchased for Spike and me is sitting smack upright in the middle of her bedspread.



My stomach plunges.



Mr. Helmunde doesn’t even bother to say anything in response to what he’s seeing; he just starts scribbling.



He expected this; I know he did.



Then, he clips his pen on the board and says, “They say that a young minor who is having sex is also probably engaging in other types of behavior that would be considered radically inappropriate for her age group. Don’t mind me while I take a look through your things, young lady.”



“But I’m not having sex! I-I don’t even have a boyfriend,” Dawn insists.



“Just wait a minute.” Spike is defensive of his pseudo-little sister. “Leave the girl’s stuff alone. She’s telling the bloody truth.”



I’m too upset inside to say a word.



“And just how long have you been in this country, *mate*? Should we be investigating you as well? And how long have you been dating the elder Miss Summers?”



Mr Helmunde does a terrible rendition of Spike’s accent.



“Two years,” Spike and I say simultaneously.



Hey, at least, we got that part right. We just weren’t very clear about which of the questions we were answering.



Mr. Helmunde looks over the rim of his glasses at us, making sure we are all paying careful attention. “What I have seen here today, kids, could get you in a lot of trouble. I think it’s in your best interest to let me do what I have to do.”



Spike snorts and shakes his head, and Dawn’s face is stricken.



The social worker takes a moment to examine the room, and then, he chooses the boxes on Dawn’s desk. He talks almost to himself as he works, opening lids and sifting through Dawn’s things.



“You know teenagers these days. They don’t respect adults; they think the world owes them something, and then, they whine about it if they don’t get what they think they should. It’s like I tell my son, if he doesn’t buck up and take the hits as they come, he won’t survive in the world because in the real world, things aren’t handed to you. You earn them, and people will screw you over before you can say. . .”



* * *



Screwed.



We are so very very screwed.



Have I said that enough yet?



Dawn took mostly jewelry, makeup, and other shiny baubles, but she also took a few things that I can’t quite fathom.



Why does she need a toothbrush with rhinestones in the handle or half of three different pairs of earrings?



I can’t believe Dawnie is a shoplifter, a thief.



Well. . . maybe I do kind of get it. She’s been through more hell than any kid should have to. I’m sort of surprised that she’s doing as well as she is. When I was her age, I’d just become a Slayer and if I’d lost my mom, dad, and sister, I’d have gone over the edge. It’s only with time and ever-increasing loss that I am able to cope without completely running away or losing myself.



Oh, wait. I did that a time or two in recent memory.



So, in reality, Dawn is doing better than I ever did in response to the losses she’s had to endure. In some ways, I attribute her adjustment to my friends’ unceasing presence in her life. And those friends include Spike.



Spike, who is sitting by me on the sofa now, rubs my back in soothing circles, and I let him. The social worker is gone, and we have a brief respite from the invasion. Dawn is crying in her room. I sort of lost it and told her to stay there until I call for her.



Except, I didn’t say it very nicely.



I have to talk with her. I know I do. Sometimes I think it’s one of the reasons Giles left. . . so I’ll be forced to talk with my sister. Aside from my absent father, she’s my sole blood tie in the world now, and we haven’t exactly connected since Willow and company brought me back.



“So, you have to talk with her, pet.”



I lean into to his touch slightly but enough for him to notice the change. “Yeah.”



“I could do it for you, but I don’t think that’d really help you much.”



The corner of my mouth can’t help but lift a little. “You’re getting good at reading my mind.”



“That’s cause I know you. . . we’re more alike than you’d care to admit.” How many times has Spike told me that now? “I know I keep saying it, but I only do because it’s true.”



I stand up to rid myself of his touch and change the subject, “I can’t believe they’re going to put video cameras in the house! That’s like totally messed up. . . an invasion of privacy!” I look into his blue eyes that are steady on me. “Do you really think what they’re doing is legal?”



Spike takes a breath and waits a heartbeat or two before speaking, “I don’t know what’s legal and what isn’t. I’m not exactly a law-abiding citizen.”



He closes his mouth deliberately although I can see there’s more he wants to say. Something I can’t quite understand flickers across his features.



Then, he speaks again, “Why don’t we just go along with it for a while. . .” I open my mouth, but Spike holds up a finger. “And let Red do some investigation on the computer. Isn’t that her gig?”



I hesitate, not sure if I want to bother Willow with anything too taxing right now. “Maybe. She did seem to benefit from searching out the truth about my disappearing trick. A-and she uncovered who had been messing with me of late.”



“Right. The distraction from her magic problem’ll probably do her good,” Spike encourages. “I mean, she’ll probably hurry it up anyway with me in the house posing as your s.o.”



Something lurches in my gut. None of my friends know about our scheme to fool social services. Xander and Anya are lost in the world of planning their wedding, Tara is living in the dorm and avoiding Willow, and Willow is avoiding life. . . kind of like me. If things go off right, they’ll never have to know this little scenario even took place.



“Right,” I say with wavering confidence. I must have been insane to agree with a scheme that Dawn and Spike cooked up.



Spike slaps his palms against his thighs and stands. “We have to discuss how we’re going to do this.”



“Wanna pretend that we have to go out of town until they take the cameras away?” I ask in half-jest.



He strides toward the kitchen.



“And hey, where are you going?”



Spike’s voice is faded in the next room. “Avoiding them won’t work. And I’m going in the next room to get me something to eat. I’m hungry and I have to have a bite before I have to sneak around to do it.”



“Sneak? Everyone here knows what you are.” Do we really?



I follow Spike into the kitchen as he replies, “Yeah, but the sodding cameras don’t know.”



I perch on the edge of a stool and watch the vampire in my kitchen. The microwave beeps and begins to hum as he chunks in a fresh pint and slams the door. When his meal is heated, he pops the machine open, pulls out the plastic bag, and takes a big swig.



I wrinkle my nose. Still haven’t gotten used to seeing that.



He nods at my expression. “Nice, pet.” He finishes his meal and hurls the blood bag into the garbage. Leaning on the countertop across from me, he grins. “So, let’s discuss sleeping arrangements.”



* * *



“So, you and Spike are going to share your room cause of the cameras?”



Dawn sits on the edge of her bed with her hands clasped in her lap. Her long hair is a curtain across her shoulders, and her nose and eyes are puffy and red from crying. She looks so innocent that I’ve avoided the needed discussion in favor of an easy discussion. . . well, an *easier* discussion.



I emulate her position on the bed. “Yep.”



“He’ll be good. He was really good to me while you were gone.” She ducks her head and sniffs. “He took care of me.”



Stroking her hair and studying the floor, I acknowledge her experience, “I know. And he’s helping out now. I don’t know how ‘good’ he’ll be with me, but I won’t let him step over my boundaries. He *is* a vampire and no Angel, at that.”



“If he does. . . step over your boundaries. . . I’ll set him straight,” Dawn says with a trace of pride and protectiveness that makes me look into her unwavering eyes. There’s definitely a unique brand of strength there. “Vampire or no vampire.”



I smile. “Thank you.”



If only she knew how far I’ve let him cross my boundaries.



“Speaking of boundaries,” I say.



Dawn shifts beneath my touch as I did with Spike a few minutes ago, and she jumps the gun on what I’m talking about. “It won’t happen anymore. I promise. I’ll return the stuff. I don’t know why I did it. I just took one thing, and it sorta kept happening whenever I saw something I wanted. I tried to stop, but I-I couldn’t.” Tears begin streaming down her cheeks.



I convey what I thought about in the living room with Spike, “I know. You’ve been through a lot, Dawnie. And we’ve all been too caught up in our own. . . stuff to see how much it’s impacted you.”



Dawn dismisses my understanding, “What stuff have I had to deal with compared to all you guys? I mean, compared to Willow and Tara and mom a-and you. I haven’t had anything on my shoulders. You guys all shield me. . . from stuff.”



I take her right hand in my left. “You’ve handled things better than I ever would have at your age. . . even as the Slayer. You’ve seen. . . done things that I never had to.”



She’s full of genuine curiosity now. “Like what?”



“Like Mom’s death. . . my. . .” I close my eyes and shift gears. Not ready to go there yet. “You know, I wouldn’t have been able to handle losing both my parents at your age. Even with all the vampires and scary monsters around me, I always had Mom and Dad. . . and a pretty cool little sis to go home to after I patrolled. . . even if Mom and Dad were always fighting.” I roll my eyes heavenward and tease, “And even if my sister could win the annoying sibling award two or three years running.”



“Hey!” Now she’s smiling at me through her tears. “I’m not always annoying. . . am I?”



“Isn’t it in your job description?”



“Well, I wasn’t always your sister.” Her hand goes limp in mine.



I hadn’t realized Dawn was still insecure about being a mystical dimensional key. Maybe we never really get over our insecurities. Have to file that one away for later thought.



I squeeze her hand back into place against my palm. “You were a sister to me then, you are now, and you always will be.”



“What about the stuff I took?” She tilts her head toward the pile of stolen goods behind us.



“Well, you’ll return most of it and pay the store owners back. I’ll go with you if you want me to.”



“Okay,” she says in a small voice. Then, “What about the stuff from the Magic Box?”



Hmmm. There’s quite a lot of stuff from the Magic Box. “We’ll wait until after the wedding. . . when Anya’s all happy after her honeymoon. Then, she’ll be in too good a mood to care. . . as much. How’s that?”



Dawn is doubtful. “Okay.”



The doorbell rings yet again.



Dawn jumps. “Shit.”



“Dawnie!” But I secretly agree with her. “Remember rule number three? No cussing in front of the cameras. . . er, social workers!”



“How long do we have to have cameras again?”



I pause in her doorway. “Three days. Then, the tapes will be reviewed by a special panel of social workers.”



“That’s forever! Will we have any privacy?”



I try to be optimistic. “Just in the bathroom. Oh, and the front porch.”



“Great. Guess where I’ll be spending all my time.”



My sentiments exactly.





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