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: Chapter 3 :
Proper Young Ladies
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Climbing the stairs of her apartment complex, Buffy had never felt so weary. Grace's journal had run short and Buffy ached for the next installment that Dana was currently working on. If Dana knew her private thoughts were being studied and picked apart, she figured she wouldn't be so cooperative. Well, no worries for Dana or Grace... not much use was coming from the journal.
I don't even know what I'm supposed to be looking for, Buffy whined to herself, pulling out her keys. What, am I supposed to break Dana from her psycho state? I'm not a friggin' therepi-"
The door swung open, already unlocked. Someone had been there, and considering the light and clattering in the kitchen, there they remained. Buffy's hand went for her stake, and just as Dana had been pleasantly surprised when she'd done the same, none came up. Instead, a gun came from a holster, and Buffy sneered at it, putting it back. Guns never work.
Cursing the weak floorboards' creaking with every step closer, Buffy pressed herself against the wall, the figure's shadow coming into view. The overhead light glimmered in her eyes, reflecting a knife. Primitive, she had to hold back a snort. Her muscles tensing, Buffy reeled back, steadied herself, then-
"Want a sandwich?" Dawn came into view, waving her plate of peanut butter and jelly around. She tossed her butterknife into the sink. "I let myself in. And since when were you the type to sneak around? Shouldn't you be all, 'Hey you, wanna make something of it?' and go all-" she demonstrated some mock karate moves.
Moaning, Buffy stomped into the kitchen and snatched the sandwich off Dawn's plate. Ignoring Dawn's protests and flailing arms trying to grab back her meal, Buffy scampered into the living room, taking a huge bite and sticking her tongue out at her sister. Dawn returned the favor.
"Is it time already to release the freaks from the circus?" Buffy taunted, flopping down on the couch. She noticed the remote was on the other side of the coffee table and reached for it, whined when she couldn't, then pounded the table until the vibrations brought it closer.
Snatching the remote in revenge, Dawn 'accidentally' fell on her sister, who promptly pushed her off the couch and onto the floor. "You know I'm allowed to leave campus as much as I want," she lied.
"You snuck out again, and I have half a mind to-"
"You're right! You do have half a mind! Best accomplishment ever!" and a smack to her head shut her up. Pushing Buffy over so she could sit on the couch, Dawn switched on the tv and channel-surfed, pausing every once in a while at the infomercials. "I thought I should tell you..."
Buffy sat up. Oh God, no. "What." It wasn't a question.
"I'm training to be a watcher." Another slap to her head. "Ow! What the heck?"
"You are not."
"Am too."
"You and what army?"
"Giles' army."
Groaning, Buffy felt the dire need to pull out her hair. "Dawnie, it's our turn to distance ourselves from that whole mess! I'm not the Slayer anymore. We're not confined to-"
"You're not confined to it," Dawn interrupted, her voice unusually calm. Shouldn't she be all spazzed and angry and confrontational? "I didn't play much of a part in your whole escapade. It's my turn."
"No, it's not." Looking at her sister incredulously, Buffy shook her head and headed toward her room.
Of course, Dawn followed. "It's not like you have to return to it all. But Buffy, this has been my calling. All those times I sat at home while you went out and patrolled or investigated or whatever, did you really think I was doing my homework? And how many times did I call myself 'Junior Watcher'?" She crossed her arms defiantly. "I didn't come for your permission. I came because you had a right to know and... I was hoping for guidance."
Buffy let our a sarcastic snort. Guidance... "I have."
"You have... what?"
"Returned to it. Well, so to speak." She stepped over to the window and pulled back the shade, looking out at the city she'd come to call home... or as much of a 'home' she could bear. "Andrew brought back a Slayer that's a little... sack of hammers." They both bit back a laugh at the little Spike-ism. "And I'm the only one she seems to respond positively to."
"Oh, is she the one Andrew stole from Angel back in LA?" Buffy stared at her in shock. "Andrew told me. He thinks he's all high and mighty since he became a Watcher-in-training first."
Waving her hand, Buffy shook her head. "That's not the point. The point is, is that I'm being sucked back into this. There's no need for you to, too. Why can't you or I just live a normal life? I mean, you've got your kick-ass school, I've got my kick-ass job..."
"As a waitress. Biiiig step up from your fastfood stint back in Sunnydale."
"Shut up!" A pillow sailed through the air and nailed Dawn in the face.
Tossing the pillow aside, Dawn struggled to remain serious and not conduct an all-out assault in pillow warfare. "Buffy... you've already been relieved of finding the new Slayers and training them, despite the fact that you're the most capable of doing it." She stopped her sister in mid-rebuttal. "Sure, we've got all the other Slayers who helped to close the Hellmouth, and sure, they're doing a good job..."
"I'm done, Dawnie." She stepped closer, nose to nose. "After Dana, I'm done. I'm going to be normal, and I'm... I'm done."
Sensing the finality of the debate, Dawn gave Buffy one last, half-hearted glare before leaving her room. Collecting her backpack and the half of sandwich Buffy didn't eat, she left the apartment, muttering under her breath.
"And I'm picking up where you left off."
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Dearest Casilda,
‘Twas a grand sight to behold. Father would surely whip me if he had seen me, for proper young ladies aren't to set foot nor eye on parties until I've seen my sixteenth year. I scoff at such nonsense, for I have seen with mine eyes the schoolhouse girls of thirteen already betrothed, and I am two years their elder and still without a proposal, ne'er a courting! Father holds tight to this latch that bottles me in, disparaged at my lack of etiquette shone of a lady. Just so, the other day I knelt to pluck a daisy for Nessy, and no sooner had Father lain eyes on me was my cheek warmed, he shouting that 'that is what nursemaids are for.' Dirt beneath my nails, scuffed shoes, a hair out of place would shame dear Father, so I tidied and continued off to school. Later on, I found a stunning bouquet of daisies upon my dresser, and Nessy had been so beside herself with her sorries.
But oh, how I tried to turn my gaze back to my needlework, alas, my retched curiosity beckoned me below.
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Grace's heart beat faster as she pulled her gloves over her hands, pressing them to be more slender with the six buttons clasped along the wrist. Still too young for a corset, she synched her petticoat tighter around he waist, marveling at the thought of the twenty inches she had overheard impertinent women boast.
Lacing her boots, straightening her braid, and pinching her cheeks, Grace left for the balcony overlooking the festivities. It was a sea of muted tones and rouge faces, occasionally dotted by a more boisterous woman with a pink or red petticoat, her haughtiness just aching to prove how much wealthier she claimed to be. Tinkling laughter and a potpourri of mind-swimmingly intoxicating scents - the ladies' hall was not where she aimed to be.
Descending the stairs, Grace ignored the precocious looks of the ladies who noticed her, knowing full well who she was and where she should be. She turned up her nose and rounded the corner, following the foyer to the opposite hall where the men congregated, laughing loudly over politics, thievery, and all such things beneath them. Staying herself, she searched for her father, spotting him in the far corner of the room sitting with Philip Twells, whom she recognized as a member of Parliament. Another look and she found that many Parliamentary members were present, some who were as far as Lambeth, Westminster, and Tower Hamlets. Though he whom she searched for...
"It is quite audacious for a young lady such as yourself to listen amongst such drivel and ugliness." He always teased her, and she always loved it. Turning to him, Grace curtsied and held out her gloved hand for him to take. Amusement in his eye, William took her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips.
"Dear, kindest sir, I beg your pardon for my intrusion, but I do entertain such interest in.." she blushed, then looked back out onto the floor. He mustn't know she looked only for him.
William chuckled, placing her small hand in the crook of his elbow and leading her away into the vacant sitting room, taking a seat upon the lounge. "Won't you regale me with your words? Upon our last meeting you promised to share your latest."
Smiling shyly, Grace toddled before him wringing her fingers and avoiding his gaze. "I'm afraid they aren't any good. Not at all like yours, sir."
"William," he corrected. "And I assure you, the beauty you posses much surpasses anything I could imagine." He gestured for her to continue. "If you would?"
Another shy blush rose to Grace's cheeks. Nonetheless, she straightened her posture and put the heel of her foot before the other, right over left. Clearing her throat, she closed her eyes, recalling her latest poem.
"Gentle one the heavens see.. a soul envied, angels agree.. thy restless heart that beats for thee is hollow... and it is yet to be finished, so I believe it to be droll."
"Abandon such thoughts, dear one," William insisted, standing. "I found it quite lovely, though I sense a misery that propelled such language." He bent to study her expression. "Is there a lad you fancy? To spark these thoughts to be innocently voiced?"
She fought back both the urge to laugh with joy that he had seen just what she had intended, as well as the urge to whimper over his blindness. "There is, though he shan't e'er know. Obstacles, hindrances--"
"Do not let it overwhelm you," he interrupted, his voice and brow serious as he took her hands. "When love blinds one, it is only because the light has failed. If you do nothing, shall he remain sightless?" A kiss to her forehead caught her breath. "'Gentle one,' you are quite the treasure, treading where few of true beauty walk, 'a soul envied.' Make him see."
Pressing the palm of his hand to the edge of her jaw, he begged pardon and left Grace to steady her heart. He must know, she thought, calming her breath. I must tell him. Without worry may her father notice, Grace scampered in the direction William had gone, heading to the Great Room where the ladies and gentlemen were convening. Passing between the skirts and tails and ignoring the cavalier stares, she peeled her eyes for her would-be swain. There she spotted him, heading away to the sitting area to join..
She gasped. "Cecily..." Had to it have been her sister, wringer of poor men's hearts? Grace bit her lip at the thought of Cecily's countless suitors, all toyed with then discarded with their tails between their legs. Those were the lucky ones. Then there were the men who had their tails snipped and handed to them by her dainty, powdered hands without solace. And there, her poor, beloved William sat inches away from she with the razored fingers, his heart unsafe.
"Oh, Santa Casilda," Grace murmured, backing from the sight. "May you be merciful for he as well."
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Was she early or was he late? Either way, Dawn was impatiently waiting outside Giles' office door as he entered the headquarters' work hall. She tapped her watch jokingly, but he could tell she was a bit annoyed. Quite the role-change.
"What can I do for you, Dawn?" he asked as he unlocked the door to his office. Dawn headed in first to stake claim in his comfy computer chair. "Skipping class, are we?"
"No," Dawn shook her head. "It isn't skipping if it's important. I've got a question."
"Oh? And what, pray tell, might that be?"
Leaning forward and clasping her hands, Dawn rested her elbows on the desk as if she were a general disclosing top-secret plans to a bumbling whelp. Giles didn't quite like it. "Where are all of the Slayers?"
Flapping his hand at her to get her out of his seat, Giles sat and booted up his computer. He still hated that confounded contraption. "Now Dawn, I know you are getting pretty serious with this Watcher business, but-"
"I'm.. doing a report." Ooo, good lie.
"A report?" Giles raised an eyebrow. "Why in the world would you be doing a report on Slayers?"
Dawn sighed in mock exasperation, as if he should know already. "Mythology class. You know, most of the people in the world don't believe in Slayers."
"True... we are a special lot, aren't we."
"So I thought, why not do my report on something I know about?" she grinned innocently. "They need facts 'n figures... well, speculated facts 'n figures... so I thought, why not be impressive? And who could I go to to help me be impressive?"
Giles wasn't dumb, but he was, indeed, impressive. Without another word, he called up the Slayer location file and printed it out. "Now, I'm only giving you the list from the US. Otherwise we'd be printing all day and wasting my ink cartridges." Twenty-two pages of names, categorized by state. "Do tell me what grade you receive... oh, and list me as a reference!"
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"What brings you in today, uh..."
"Dawn. Dawn Summers." She laid a stack of papers and contracts on the dean's desk. "I'd like to apply for your study abroad program, preferably for the current and following term."
The dean scanned the pages. "Shouldn't be a problem. Do you have a sponsor?"
Dawn nodded. "Wolfram & Hart."
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To Be continued... Chapter 4: Silence and Roses
Author's Note: Guess who makes a special appearance in the next chapter! WOOT! I'm so excited! *yawn* Are you excited? [/FindingNemo]