FIC: Dawning Light 8: Letting Go (Anita Blake/Buffy the Vampire Slayer) PG

[mhalachai]

Dawning Light
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Anita Blake crossover
Chapter Eight: Letting Go
by Mhalachai

Summary: Dawn fell from Glory's tower and into the portal. Now she's all alone and scared... but sometimes family comes from the strangest places.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Anita Blake belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton. No profit has been made from this fic, and the only benefit to me is personal satisfaction and the creative process. I hope you enjoy.
Rating: PG
Words: 9,660
Spoilers: So post-Danse Macabre it hurts.
Note: A response to the Mommy Anita challenge on TTH. This chapter is for laney_1974, a late Christmas present. I was inspired by winning Laney's Mega Angst award in the TTH COA 2006 awards. So? Mega angst.

~~~~~

Buffy stared down at Dawn, peering through a hole ripped in the ceiling, blood on her lips and pouring down her chin. Her mouth was moving, slowly, but only choking sounds came out. She was looking for Dawn, but Dawn was hiding and Buffy would never be able to find her.

Dawn woke up, a scream caught in her throat. The ceiling was dark and whole, the house quiet. The prickly fear of her dream pushed Dawn up out of bed and had her running towards the bedroom door.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have left the graveyard without even a note as to where she'd gone? What if Buffy and Willow and everyone back in Sunnydale were trying to find her? She had to go to the cemetery, now, and find Buffy!

Dawn bumped her way down the stairs in the dark, tripping over her feet on the bottom step. She scrambled up and crashed heavily into the front door. Turning the lock on the door knob was easy, but she had to jump three times to get the dead-bolt unlocked.

A commotion behind her almost distracted her, but then the door was open and Dawn took off, down the steps, into freezing snow in bare feet.

She'd almost reached the edge of the yard when strong arms scooped her up and held her tight. "Dawn, what are you doing?" Anita demanded.

Dawn struggled, but Anita's hold was like steel. "I have to go to the graveyard!" Dawn cried, wriggling and twisting. "Let me go! I have to find Buffy!"

"Micah, help me!" More hands joined Anita's, and distantly Dawn realized they were carrying her back into the house.

The door closed firmly behind them, the locks turning loud in Dawn's head. The door was between her and Buffy, and Buffy had to be looking for her. Dawn couldn't fail Buffy, not like that.

"Let me go!" Dawn pleaded. "I have to go to the graveyard! Buffy's not going to be able to find me!"

Anita sat on the couch, holding Dawn firmly in her lap. "Dawn, you have to calm down! What's wrong?"

"Buffy's trying to find me!" Dawn twisted in Anita's arms, trying to make the woman understand. "I have to go or else she won't find me!"

"Dawn, stop it!" Anita ordered. "Did Buffy contact you?"

"Yes! I had a dream and Buffy was looking for me and I have to go!" Dawn tried to stand up in Anita's lap, but then Micah was wrapping a quilt around her and she couldn't struggle free.

Anita pushed the hair back from Dawn's face. "Dawn, it was just a dream," she said quietly. "It's not real, you can't go running out of the house because of a dream."

"It wasn't a dream," Dawn said. Frustration and failure and panic welled up in her chest, and she started to cry. "Buffy's looking for me and she doesn't know where I went."

Anita pulled Dawn into a tight hug and rocked her back and forth. Dawn couldn't stop crying. Everything came pouring out, the grief for Mom, of missing Buffy, of Tara hurt and Spike hurt and Buffy falling, all because of Dawn.

The choking sobs finally slowed, letting Dawn gasp to catch her breath. Anita rubbed circles on Dawn's back through the quilt, slowly warming her.

Dawn realized that Micah and Nathaniel were both in the room, sitting on either side of Anita. Micah's hand joined Anita's on Dawn's back, his voice a low rumbling purr.

The tears finally stopped, leaving Dawn drained. She had failed. She should have been smarter after she fell into the cemetery, should have taken steps to make sure Buffy would be able to find her. Instead, she'd hidden behind Anita and let someone else take care of her, like always. Now Buffy would never find her, and it was all Dawn's fault.

Anita whispered something over her shoulder, then the couch dipped slightly as Nathaniel stood up. Dawn watched him as he walked out of the darkened living room, unable to summon enough energy to move. What was the point in moving, if she'd failed? She'd never see Buffy again, and it was all her fault.

Nathaniel came back into the room and sat back down. Anita freed one arm from the tight hold on Dawn to take the thing Nathaniel had gone to get. "Dawn?"

"What?" Dawn asked listlessly.

Anita turned Dawn in her lap and placed something into Dawn's hands. "This is Sigmund," she said, indicating the stuffed penguin. "He's my penguin."

Dawn just looked at the toy.

"It just occurred to me that we hadn't given you any toys, and that you might like Sigmund if you were scared."

The uncertainty in Anita's voice made Dawn's teeth ache. But everyone was looking at her expectantly, so Dawn reached out and pulled the stuffed toy into her arms.

"He's a good friend," Anita said softly. She gathered Dawn up again as Dawn touched Sigmund's fuzzy belly. "Do you think you can tell me what happened?"

Dawn poked at Sigmund's glass eyes. "I had a dream," she whispered. "Buffy was looking for me and I thought that if I went back to the graveyard where I fell, I'd find her and she'd find me and I could go home."

"Do you know where Buffy is?" Micah interjected.

Dawn shook her head. Against her will, her arms tightened around Sigmund until she was holding him as tightly to her chest as Anita had been holding her, just a few minutes before.

"Then why do you think that you'd find her at the cemetery?" Anita asked.

Sigmund smelled like lavender, Dawn realized when she buried her nose in the penguin's head. "The witch freaked out at the graveyard."

"What?"

"I think she's talking about the witch who went to the cemetery with Detective Zerbrowski," Nathaniel said. "You said something about contagious insanity."

"Screaming contagious insanity," Dawn corrected. "Maybe that means that Buffy was trying to find me."

Anita pulled away from Dawn. "What the hell would Buffy be doing to try to find you, if that was the result?" she demanded.

Dawn hugged Sigmund harder. "I don't know!" she exclaimed, which wasn't a lie. Dawn had no idea how Buffy may try to find her, across dimensions. Maybe it was Willow's magic--

Sudden overwhelming terror swept over Dawn, tightening her muscles and making it impossible to breathe. What if Glory was trying to find her? What if it was Glory all along that had made everything so crazy? If Glory tried to come through to find Dawn, there would be no one to protect her, no Slayer to keep her safe!

Anita's voice in her ear pulled Dawn back from the edge of terror. "What happened to Miranda, it's not happening anymore," Anita was saying. "She went back yesterday, her and another witch I know, Tammy. There's nothing there. The area is clear. Whatever happened, it's over."

Over. No chance of Glory coming through to destroy her, but no chance that Buffy might have found a way to cross dimensions to save Dawn.

She'd thought that by jumping to save the world, she had done the right thing. But now, all she could think about was how much she missed her sister.

~~~

"How do you want your egg cooked?" Nathaniel asked, flipping a pancake on the griddle.

Dawn made a face. "Eggs are icky," she said, holding up Sigmund. "How can you talk about eggs around this poor bird?"

"You liked eggs two days ago," Nathaniel reminded her. He put the spatula down and lifted Dawn onto the counter beside the stove. "Be careful," he cautioned.

"I won't burn myself," she promised. "And that was omelets, not eggs. So different."

"Do you want an omelet?"

"I thought we were having pancakes," Dawn tried to distract Nathaniel.

He gave her a tired look. "You need proper nutrition. That means a pancake and an egg."

"What if I can't eat all that?"

"Will you try?"

Dawn stared at Nathaniel over Sigmund's head. He really wanted her to be healthy, she knew that in her head. "Does Anita eat proper? I mean, properly?" Dawn asked.

"Sometimes," Nathaniel said. He smiled. "I'm trying to get her to eat better."

"I'll have an egg if Anita has one too," Dawn said, as Anita and Micah came into the kitchen. Both were dressed, but only Anita seemed as tired as Nathaniel from being up all night, Dawn realized with a twinge in her stomach. "If she wants one."

"What's this about eggs?" Anita asked. She came over to where Dawn was seated on the counter and dropped a kiss onto Dawn's hair. Gripping Sigmund by one flipper, Dawn hugged Anita hard.

"Do you want an egg?" Dawn asked, looking up. "Nathaniel said that he could make you one, and then I could have one too."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Anita said. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm okay," Dawn admitted, letting go of Anita and pulling Sigmund back into the two-handed grip she'd been using all morning.

"How do your feet feel?"

"Okay." Dawn straightened her legs so she could see her slippers. "I like these, they're purple."

"Purple is a pretty awesome color," Anita agreed. She gave Dawn another quick hug before moving in the direction of the coffee pot.

"How about a mini omelet?" Dawn suggested. "Make it really tiny? So it can only fit around a tiny shred of cheese? So tiny even a mouse couldn't find it?"

Nathaniel shook his head, but he was smiling. "Or I can make a really big omelet for you and Anita, and then you have a small part of it."

"Okay," Dawn conceded. "But no mushrooms!"

"I remember. No mushrooms, no pepper on top, only in the eggs, and under no circumstances are there to be green onions." Nathaniel headed over to the fridge, ducking around Micah, who was digging something out of the freezer. "Is that right?"

"Uh huh." Dawn settled on the counter to watch the barely controlled chaos of the three adults moving around the kitchen, getting breakfast. She was beginning to see patterns in what they did. Anita always planted herself in front of the coffee maker, immovable and oblivious as a rock, until after she'd had at least ten ounces of coffee.

Nathaniel gravitated around Anita like a moon around a planet, an analogy that Dawn was extremely proud of. He was always watching everyone without making it obvious. Sort of like Buffy, looking for danger, only Nathaniel seemed to be expecting to have to take the blow, where Buffy would be looking to solve the solution with violence.

Micah was harder to figure out. Sometimes he focused carefully on Anita, other times he did his own thing. Like now. Dawn frowned as she watched Micah take two piece of bread out of the bag, then put the bag back in the freezer. "What are you doing?" Dawn asked, craning her neck to see.

"I'm making a sandwich," Micah said.

"Oh." Dawn snuck a glance at Nathaniel, who didn't seem upset. "Nathaniel makes really good omelets. And we have pancakes."

"I know." Micah smiled at Dawn. "But whenever I'm up all night, I like a chicken sandwich in the morning."

Dawn deflated a little. The reason he'd been up all night was Dawn, and no one actually liked being awake all night. Buffy had made that very clear on many occasions.

"Hey, it's okay," Micah said, patting Dawn's knee. "I started doing this in college, it's a tradition. In my first semester of college, I had to pull an all-night study session for my psychology exam, and I only had time to grab a chicken sandwich before the exam."

"How did you do?" Dawn asked, intrigued.

Micah laughed. "Let's just say I did a lot better on the exam the second time around," he said.

Dawn giggled, hiding her mouth behind Sigmund.

Anita came up behind Micah and put her arms around his waist. "I didn't know that about you," she said.

"Don't you have any weird food things?" Micah asked.

"Only about coffee!" Dawn interjected, giggling some more.

Anita gave Dawn a mock-stern look. "You're not one to talk about caffeinated products, little miss 'I want coffee'."

"But coffee is yummy!" Dawn protested. She paused. "Can I have some coffee?"

"No," the three adults said in near-unison.

"Please?" Dawn stuck out her lower lip in a pout. "Pretty please? With sugar on top?"

"No, no, and once again, no," Anita said.

"How about decaf? I know we have some, it's in the cupboard with the vanilla."

Anita sighed. "Who told her about decaf?"

"I found it when I was looking through the cupboards. Buffy said that drinking decaf coffee with artificial sweetener and fake creamer was like ingesting an existential crisis, and that it leaves a gross film on your tongue. Just like reading Kafka."

Anita held up her hands. "Stop," she ordered. "It's too early for you to be doing this." The phone rang. "I'll get it."

Dawn made Sigmund do a little penguin dance on her lap. That was interesting for a few seconds, then she started looking around for something else to do. Micah was slicing cold roasted chicken. Not interesting. Nathaniel was whisking a bowlful of raw eggs and frowning. Also uninteresting. Maybe watching Anita would be a little more exciting.

The woman picked up the portable phone by the table and brought it to her ear. "Hello?"

Dawn was just thinking how it would be cool if she could convince Anita to let her use the phone, when the bottom dropped out of her stomach, cold and full of loss. Across the kitchen, all the color drained from Anita's face as she listened the person on the phone.

"Anita?" Nathaniel said, dropping the whisk into the bowl of eggs. He hurried across the room, but Anita put out her hand to stop him. "Yes, I understand," the woman said to the phone. "When?"

"Micah?" Dawn whispered. In a moment, Micah was at her side, his hand on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around Sigmund, vibrating with the unexplained emotions. Then the surge of immediate panic washed over Dawn. She bit her lip hard. She wasn't going to cry. She had no idea what was going on, but she wasn't going to cry.

"I'll see you there," Anita said. "No, I'll do it. Just-- I'll do it. In an hour." With a faintly trembling hand, Anita laid the phone in its cradle.

"Anita, what's happening?" Nathaniel demanded. "Is someone hurt?"

Anita shook her head. "No one's hurt." She cleared her throat. "That was Ms. Wendell, Dawn's social worker."

"No," Nathaniel said immediately. He took a step back.

"They found Dawn a permanent placement," Anita continued. "I'm meeting her there-- I mean, I'm taking Dawn over there in an hour."

A permanent placement. Dawn felt as if Anita had just said she was being flung back into Glory's hands. "You said you'd take care of me," Dawn whispered. Even as she said the words, she knew it wasn't true. That first night in the hospital, Anita had promised to keep Dawn safe. She hadn't said anything about keeping Dawn.

"Anita, you can't do this!" Nathaniel exclaimed.

"We knew this wasn't permanent!" Anita shot back at him. She opened her mouth to say more, but Micah interrupted.

"Everyone, stop," he ordered as he lifted Dawn off the counter. He knelt in front of Dawn. "Dawn, do you think you can go upstairs and get dressed? I need to talk to Nathaniel and Anita for a minute. Then we'll come up and help you, okay?"

Mechanically, Dawn nodded. Anita wouldn't look at her, and Nathaniel only had eyes for Anita. Dawn slowly walked out of the kitchen, dragging her feet on every step.

Anita was giving her away. In her head, Dawn knew that wasn't true, that this whole thing had been temporary, but in her heart, Dawn felt abandoned. It would have been like Buffy giving up on her.

Behind her, voices rose in argument. Suddenly angry, Dawn sat down at the top of the stairs, plunking Sigmund on her lap. They were fighting about her, and she was going to listen!

"Anita, you don't know what foster care is like!" Nathaniel was saying. "What kind of foster placement would want Dawn? After all those ones that refused her before?"

"Ms. Wendell said it was okay," Anita protested.

"She was never in foster care!" Nathaniel's voice edged on panic. "She's never been the youngest or the most vulnerable in someone else's house, Anita! Why won't you listen to me on this? I thought we were going to keep Dawn, what happened to that?"

"We can't keep her! It's not safe, not with all the crap that comes down on us!"

"So you're throwing her to the wolves because she's an inconvenience? You used to think the same thing about me, am I the next one out the door?"

"Nathaniel!" Micah's interjection didn't stop the building emotional hurricane in Dawn's head. She knew that these weren't all her feelings, but that didn't stop the onslaught. Even holding Sigmund couldn't keep the pain at bay.

"Why are you talking to me like this?" Anita demanded. "You know I love you, that I always want you here! There's just no place in our lives for a child!"

"Are you sure you're still talking about Dawn?" The sarcasm and false bravado bounced around in Dawn's head, and she shrunk in, expecting to be hit by... The dark shapes in Nathaniel's mind danced around Dawn, making her feel tiny and alone and so scared, without hope.

"What the hell do you mean by that? Nathaniel? Where are you going?"

A door slammed somewhere in the house, but the fear squeezing Dawn's heart didn't abate.

The voices in the kitchen dropped to a soft murmur, too quiet for Dawn to make out words. She didn't need to. They weren't going to keep her. Even though Anita was like the Slayer, and Dawn would have no one to protect her.

Why didn't anybody want her?

Micah came down the corridor and spotted Dawn at the top of the stairs. With a sigh, he climbed the steps and held out his hand to her. "Let's go get you dressed," he said.

Reluctantly, Dawn took Micah's hand and let him help her to her feet. The hallway to her bedroom was too normal. Everything should look horrible, not all the same as before. It wasn't right.

"So, what are you going to wear?" Micah asked, full of subdued cheer. "How about a nice dress?"

Dawn pulled her hand away from Micah. "I thought you were going to keep me," she whispered. "I thought..."

"Oh, Dawn." Micah went down on one knee in front of Dawn. "All this... It was only for a little while, until we found a place for you to stay."

Dawn stared at Sigmund, mainly to avoid looking at Micah. "I have a place to stay. Nathaniel wants me to stay."

"I'm sorry, Dawn." Micah touched Dawn's hand. "They don't let people like me take care of children."

"But they did!" Dawn argued. "For a little while, and nothing bad happened! No one ate me, no one kidnapped me! Can't you just tell them that I'm fine and I can stay?"

"I wish I could," Micah said. "You're an amazing little girl, and I know that any foster family will be lucky to have you."

Dawn had always found it hard to read Micah's mind. In spite of that, sadness trickled down her spine. "Will you miss me?"

Micah smiled, so sad. "I will."

Dawn dropped Sigmund and flung herself at Micah, hugging him as tight as her little girl arms could. "I'll miss you too."

The way Micah hugged her made Dawn feel safe. Was this what it would be like to have a dad? If so, the Dawn could almost understand why Buffy was always so mad that Hank Summers left them.

Finally, Dawn let go of Micah. He reached past her to grab a tissue from the box by the bed, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "It's going to be all right," he promised. "Miss Wendell will be checking up on you often, and Anita and RPIT aren't going to give up looking for your family." He hesitated, then pulled out his wallet. "I want you to take this," he said, handing her what looked like a credit card.

"What is it?" Dawn asked, flipping it over.

"It's a calling card. You can call us wherever you are, if you're lonely or sad." Micah took a slip of paper out of his wallet next, and grabbed the pen on top of Dawn's journal. "This is my cell number, and you know the house number, right?"

"Yes." Dawn traced the picture on the card. This was actually happening. She was going to leave. They were going to make her leave.

No, she realized. That wasn't fair. Anita was going to make her leave.

"The instructions are on the back of the card," Micah said. "Are they too hard? I know you're smart..."

"I get it." Dawn placed the card and the paper on the bed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Nathaniel walked into the room, carrying a sports bag. He dropped it on the bed and went over to the closet, not looking at Micah.

"I have to go to work," Micah said. "Nathaniel will help you with your clothes, okay?"

Dawn nodded. "Bye, Micah."

Micah gave Dawn another hug. "Goodbye, Dawn." He let her go, then stood up. As Nathaniel passed him, he laid a hand on the younger man's arm. Nathaniel froze, so much like a rabbit hiding in the grass that Dawn's stomach clenched. "Nathaniel, it'll be okay."

Nathaniel nodded, not looking up.

Micah let his hand fall. "I'll see you tonight," he said. Giving Dawn one last smile, Micah walked out.

Nathaniel let out a shaky breath. "Let's get you packed, okay?" he said. He pulled most of the clothes out of the closet and dropped them on the bed. "You have to be careful to know what you have when you get there. Always know what you're got, so if someone takes it, you'll know." He started folding the clothes. "Don't look too nice, because the other kids won't like it, and some foster moms won't spend the time cleaning nice clothes. And you should always wear your best clothes when you get there the first time, because you need to make a good first impression on the foster parents and your social worker. And be polite, and don't make a fuss. No one likes a fuss."

Dawn stared, fascinated and appalled, as Nathaniel kept up the babble while ruthlessly folding clothes. He made two piles, one with most of the nice things Anita had bought her, and the smaller one of practical items like pants and shirts. "I'll be polite."

"You always are," Nathaniel said, finishing his folding. He moved to the small box that served as a dresser. "You can never have too many socks, especially if you don't know how cold it's going to be in the house. If you get cold, don't ask them to turn up the heat, that never ends well. Just layer, and keep moving. If you're cold at night, put on a sweater over your pajamas."

"Is it going to be cold?" Dawn asked faintly. A whole different sort of fear settled into her bones. So much was out of her control, but at least with Anita she wasn't cold all the time. The memory of running in the graveyard, hurt and scared and so cold, came back with a frightening intensity.

"It might be." Nathaniel dumped a handful of little socks in the sports bag. "And always eat what they give you, because there probably won't be anything else. But don't hoard food, either, because if they find it they won't be happy."

Dawn sat on the bed and pulled her legs up to her chest. Just listening to Nathaniel made her insides ache with hunger.

He spotted the calling card and the paper with Micah's number. He scooped them up off the bed and pushed them into the bag between the socks. "Don't take anything valuable with you, because it'll get stolen or taken away. Money's usually the first thing to go, but other stuff can be taken too. Hide the calling card when you can."

Dawn's eyes fell on the ornate silver pen that Jean-Claude had given her. "Oh." She reached for her journal and opened the book. She'd only had time to fill a few of the cream-colored pages. The empty pages stared back at her, mocking her with their potential. She'd wanted to write about life with Anita, about trying to find Buffy... but that wasn't going to happen now.

Dawn slid off the bed, and carried her journal and pen around the bed to where Nathaniel was packing clothes into the bag. "Nathaniel?" she said, tugging on his pant leg. He stopped packing and looked down at her. She tugged again, and he sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He wasn't crying, but his eyes looked a little red. Dawn held out the journal and pen. "Can you keep these?"

"Your journal?" Nathaniel asked. "But I gave this to you, and Jean-Claude gave you the pen."

"But you said someone will steal it." She shoved the journal and pen in his lap. "If it's here, no one's going to rip it up."

Nathaniel stared at the journal for a very long time. "Of course," he finally said. "I'll keep these safe."

"Thank you," Dawn said.

Nathaniel carefully set the journal aside, then reached into his back pocket to pull out several green bills. "I know I said no money, but there's a hidden seam in this bag where you can hide some cash," he said. He quickly rolled the money into a little tube. "Here," he instructed, showing Dawn the tiny rip in the seam inside the bag. "You slide the money in, and pull the cloth back in place, and no one will see it."

Dawn ran her fingers over the seam. She couldn't even feel the hidden money. "Did the bag come like that?" she asked, looking up at Nathaniel.

"No. I got this last Christmas."

"Before you met Anita?"

Nathaniel was suddenly very interested in rearranging the contents of the bag. "After."

Dawn frowned. "Why would you make a secret money hiding place in a bag after you met Anita?"

Nathaniel sprang up and went to the closet. "You should wear this when you go to meet the foster people," he said, pulling out the one remaining dress. "Not too expensive, but nice. And it should fit you for another few months."

"Do you think Anita is going to get rid of you?" Dawn pressed, following Nathaniel around the room. "She wouldn't do that! You're important to her!"

Nathaniel retrieved a pair of tights from the box. He didn't say anything, but the words came out of his head, clear as day. "You were supposed to be important to Anita, too."

Tears welled up in Dawn's throat, choking her. She grabbed his leg in a hug, holding on tight.

Nathaniel pried Dawn's hands free. He crouched in front of her, holding her hands. "It's going to be okay," he said, but Dawn knew it was a lie.

"Don't forget me?" she asked, feeling very small.

"Of course I won't," Nathaniel said, frowning. "Why do you think I'd forget you?"

Dawn shrugged. "I haven't known you for long."

Nathaniel gently squeezed her hands. "I will never, ever forget you," he promised, and this time it wasn't a lie.

"Are you packed?" Anita asked from the doorway. Dawn pulled her hands away from Nathaniel. Nathaniel wanted her, and Micah wanted her... that only left Anita. Dawn supposed she knew where she stood with Anita now.

Maybe it was for the best, that Anita gave her away now. Before Dawn had to live another moment in the stupid fantasy world where Anita would actually want to keep her.

"All except for her pajamas and her toothbrush," Nathaniel said. "She needs to change, then that's it."

"I'll help her with that," Anita said. "We have to get moving."

Without another word, Nathaniel stood. He grabbed the journal and pen off the bed, then left the room without ever looking at Anita.

Shoulders stiff, Anita closed the door behind him. "Why don't we get you dressed?" she said.

"I can dress myself," Dawn said, starting to get angry. She didn't see why Anita should pretend to help her. Less than an hour, and Anita would be rid of her forever.

"I can help--"

"I don't want your help!" Dawn pulled her pajama top over her head and shoved it into the sports bag. "I can dress myself!" The pajama bottoms joined the top in the bag. "I've always been able to dress myself, I don't need any help!"

"Okay, you don't need my help," Anita said. She took the pajamas out of the bag and folded them neatly. "How about I just spend some time with you?"

Dawn turned her back on Anita. She was determined to ignore the woman. Anita was just a liar anyway. She'd pretended that she liked Dawn, when in reality she couldn't wait to get rid of her.

The tights gave Dawn a little more trouble than anticipated, but she managed to dress herself without any help. Nathaniel had selected a dress that buttoned in the front, so she could fasten it all on her own.

Clothed, Dawn stomped to the bedroom door, opened it, then stomped down the hall to the bathroom. She knew Anita was following her, but Dawn told herself she didn't care.

She brushed her hair, not making a sound, not even when the brush hit a knot and hurt her scalp. Quickly, she grabbed her new toothbrush with the blue handle, and stomped back down the hall. She shoved the brush and toothbrush into the bag, then zipped it closed.

"Dawn, what about Sigmund?" Anita asked. She picked the penguin up off the floor and held it out. "Would you like to take him with you?"

Dawn stared at the toy. Anita's toy. Suddenly, she hated everything. That stupid penguin, this stupid house, Anita, Buffy, everyone. Most importantly, Dawn hated herself. She hated being so small and stupid and such a failure in everything she did.

Grabbing Sigmund from Anita's hand, Dawn threw the bird across the room. She was breathing hard, as if she'd just run a million miles, but she hadn't gone anywhere at all.

"Okay, I guess" Anita said. Dawn wanted her to be angry, but she just sounded sad. Anita wasn't allowed to be sad! This was all her fault! "We should go."

Dawn grabbed the bag and hauled it off the bed. It was too heavy for her lift, so she dragged it after her, out of the room that she'd stupidly thought would be hers, down the hall, down the stairs. Anita followed her, so close, but Dawn darted away whenever she thought Anita would try to hug her or something.

Nathaniel was waiting for them in the entrance hall. "I made you a sandwich," he said, holding out a little brown bag. "We never had a chance to eat breakfast."

Dawn looked at the bag. She didn't feel hungry anymore. She was full inside, full and heavy and everything was horrible and she'd never be hungry again. Still, she took the little bag from Nathaniel. It fit perfectly in the little side pocket in the sports bag.

"We have to go," Anita said again. She picked up the bag while Nathaniel helped Dawn into her winter jacket, then wrapped a bright red scarf around her neck.

"You take care of yourself, okay?" Nathaniel tucked the ends of the scarf into the jacket's pockets. "It's all going to be fine, you'll see."

He didn't believe that any more than Dawn did, but she didn't know how to tell him so. The lump in her throat was too big to speak around.

Not letting herself cry, Dawn gave Nathaniel one last hug goodbye. She didn't want to leave, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.

On the porch, Anita tried to take Dawn's hand, but Dawn refused to go anywhere near the woman. Anita didn't get to pretend she didn't want this, Dawn decided as she walked toward the car. If she wanted to get rid of Dawn, fine.

Dawn's undoing came with the seatbelt. Try as she might, the buckle wouldn't fit in the latch. Wordlessly, Anita took the buckle from Dawn's hands and snapped it together. Then the woman put the sports bag at Dawn's feet, then closed the jeep door.

For a few moments, Dawn was alone in the quiet cocoon of the car. She pushed back her jacket sleeve and stared at the red scar around her wrist. The wounds the rope left on her no longer hurt to the touch. Dawn almost wished they did, so she could concentrate on something other than the pain in her chest.

The driver's door opened, breaking the spell. Dawn pushed her sleeve down and turned her head to stare out the window, then wished she hadn't. Nathaniel stood on the porch in the cold, watching them.

As Anita started the engine, Nathaniel gave Dawn a little wave. Stretching as far as she could within the seatbelt's restraint, Dawn pressed her nose against the cold window and watched Nathaniel as long as she could.

He finally vanished from sight, and with him Dawn's last tiny hope that she might be able to stay with the only people in this world who had given a damn about her.

~~~

"Come on," Anita said, holding out her hand. "Let's get you inside."

Dawn stared straight ahead.

"For Christ's sake, Dawn, please?" Anita unbuckled Dawn's seatbelt. "They're waiting for us."

She may have been upset and scared, but she wasn't going to act like a baby. Dawn slid out of the car, ignoring Anita's hand.

The door in the car behind them opened, and Miss Wendell emerged. She walked over to the jeep, smiling at Dawn. "Hello, Dawn, Ms. Blake. How are you today?"

"Fine, thanks," Anita said automatically.

"How about you, Dawn?"

Dawn stared down at her shoes. She knew it was childish to avoid speaking, but she knew that if she opened her mouth, she'd burst into tears and that was the last thing she wanted Anita to see.

"We had a bit of a rough morning," Anita explained. She lifted Dawn's bag out of the jeep and slammed the door. "So, now what?"

"Now we go inside and meet the Walkers," Miss Wendell explained. "Do you want to come in with us?"

What? Dawn's head snapped up. Was Anita going to leave so soon? Without thinking, Dawn backed up a step, right into Anita, and grabbed Anita's hand tight.

Anita squeezed Dawn's hand. "Of course I want to come in," she said. "I want to help Dawn get settled."

"Good. We don't normally allow that, but Dawn's circumstances are quite unusual," Miss Wendell said as they walked toward the non-descript two-story house. "We want this to work."

Dawn wondered who else Miss Wendell was talking about. Or if she always referred to herself in the plural.

Then the front door opened and all the thoughts about Miss Wendell vanished.

"You must be Miss Wendell," the woman at the door said. Her eyes traveled right over Dawn and landed on Anita. "Why are you here?"

Anita gripped Dawn's hand just a little tighter. "I thought Dawn could use some help settling in," Anita said in clipped tones. Dawn knew that wasn't what Anita wanted to say, but she was exercising restraint for Dawn's sake.

"Given Dawn's circumstances, I thought she could use a familiar face," Miss Wendell said. "May we?"

The woman stepped aside, letting them enter the house. Dawn looked around as Anita helped her out of her coat. The place seemed... dead. No bright colors, no shoes lying scattered about to lend the area a spec of life. Dawn's red scarf was the brightest thing around.

"I'm Mrs. Walker," the woman said over Dawn's head. "Mr. Walker is in the living room."

"We'll just come in, then," Miss Wendell said bravely. "Come on, Dawn, Ms. Blake."

Anita dropped Dawn's bag by the jackets. As soon as her hands were free, Dawn grabbed Anita's palm and held on for dear life.

The living room was as drab as the hallway. An older man was straightening something on a desk. He stood up as they entered the room. Like his wife, he didn't pay Dawn any attention, but instead focused on Anita. "This is unusual," he said.

Anita put her free hand on Dawn's shoulder, as Miss Wendell said, "This is an unusual placement. I'm sorry I wasn't able to come yesterday to talk to you, but we can get all that dealt with today." As she spoke, she flipped through a folder.

Something pinged in Dawn's head. Miss Wendell had never met these people? How did she know they were really foster parents? Maybe they were serial killers or something that ate little girls!

"When we heard what the child has been subjected to, we decided to take her on as soon as we could," Mrs. Walker was saying. "We specialize in dealing with troubled children. We have three with us right now, as a matter of fact."

Anita's hand grew heavy on Dawn's shoulder. "What do you mean?" Anita demanded. "Dawn's not troubled, she's just a little girl."

The gaze Mrs. Walker threw Anita was heavy with condescension. Dawn shivered. "I've been dealing with troubled children since when you were in pigtails, Miss Blake. Age is no way to judge how disturbed a child is."

On Dawn's other side, Miss Wendell cleared her throat. "Mrs. Walker, I'm not sure how much you were told about Dawn's case..."

"We heard enough," Mr. Walker chimed in. "The child needs a stable home, with strict discipline, so she learns that lying is unacceptable."

"What?" Anita exclaimed. "What gave you the idea that Dawn lies?"

"Miss Bertram told us that the child told the police a fanciful story about where she grew up, and might possibly not have given her real name. That may be acceptable to someone who keeps company with monsters, but it is not acceptable in our household!" Mrs. Walker gripped the back of a chair, glaring at Anita.

This was so wrong! Dawn's insides cramped with fear at being left in this place. Was this how they really felt? That she was a liar and a danger? If only she could find out what they were thinking--

How stupid was she? She was telepathic, for crying out loud. Even if she'd never tried to do it intentionally, there was no time like the present. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Concentrating hard on the two people across the room, Dawn tried to open her mind. At first, nothing. Then--

woman's a slut, anyone who'd fuck a dead would do anything, can't let her around normal people, want her filth out of my house

can't believe they left this child in her care, stupid woman would buy anything, we don't know what taint has been left on this child, it needs to be dug out of her at any

Dawn backed up, trying to block the horrible ugly thoughts out of her head. Anita wasn't evil! And neither was she! She couldn't stay here!

Turning, Dawn hugged Anita's waist as hard as she could, burying her face in the woman's shirt. Anita may not want her around, but anything would be better than this horrible place! She'd run away, that's what she'd do, take the money that Nathaniel gave her and run back to the cemetery and wait for Buffy to find her!

Anita put her hand on Dawn's head, cradling her close. Dawn concentrated on breathing in and out, not crying. She wasn't going to let these people see her cry.

"I think we should all just calm down," Miss Wendell said. "I need to speak with Dawn for a few minutes, in the hallway. Dawn?"

Even though she didn't want to, Dawn pulled away from Anita. The woman cupped Dawn's cheek, giving her a very serious look. Dawn wanted to beg Anita to take her home, back to Nathaniel and Micah and her bed and Sigmund and the nice kitchen and everything. But she couldn't do that here, not with those horrible people watching.

Miss Wendell held out her hand. The social worker's hand was slim and cool, and Dawn worried that she might break the woman if she squeezed too tight. She followed Miss Wendell into the hall, sitting as directed on the small bench by the jackets.

"Dawn," Miss Wendell started. She broke off, looked at her hands, then back at Dawn. "How are you doing?"

Dawn shrugged, miserable.

"I bet this is all very hard for you," Miss Wendell continued. "Days like this are always confusing, and it's very important that we make decisions with clear thought." She paused. "Dawn, do you like it at Anita's house?"

A tiny spark of hope flared in Dawn's chest. "Oh, yes," she whispered. "They're... nice." Nice wasn't the word Dawn wanted, but her vocabulary failed her. She wanted to tell Miss Wendell that Anita was the only one who could keep her safe, that Nathaniel made her laugh and made sure she had enough to eat, that Micah listened to her and read with her and talked to her like she was an adult.

She wanted to tell Miss Wendell that she wanted to go home, but everything got stuck in her throat and wouldn't come out.

"Do you feel safe there?" Miss Wendell asked, and it was like she was reading Dawn's mind. Dawn nodded so hard her hair fell in her eyes. "Would you like to stay there a little bit longer?"

Dawn jumped off the bench. "Really? Yes please!"

Miss Wendell smiled. "Good. I want you to sit back down and wait right here, okay? I need to talk to Anita and the Walkers."

"Okay!" Dawn slid back onto the bench and made herself sit still. "Wait!"

Miss Wendell turned back. "Yes?"

"I'm not a liar," Dawn said. "I need you to know that." She may have stretched the truth a little in certain spots, but she never lied.

"Thank you for telling me," Miss Wendell smiled again, then vanished back in the living room.

It was the hardest thing ever, for Dawn to sit still on that bench, but she tried her hardest. She also kept as quiet as possible, to try and hear what was happening in the other room.

"Why can't she stay?" Mr. Walker's voice drifted out into the hall.

"I didn't have a chance to read your file before I came over," Miss Wendell said apologetically. "At the time I accepted this placement, I wasn't aware that two of your current foster sons are over thirteen. Given Dawn's age and background, I don't think this would be the best placement for her."

"According to Miss Bertram, there aren't a lot of people lining up to take the child," Mr. Walker said.

"Her name is Dawn," Anita interjected, sounding very angry. "Why don't you try calling her that?"

"Ms. Blake, please," Miss Wendell said. "It's important that we approach this calmly, for Dawn's sake. Mr. Walker, Mrs. Walker, thank you for offering to help Dawn, but it would be best if we continued to look for a placement that fit everyone's needs."

Dawn put her thumb in her mouth, to keep herself quiet. All she had to do was stay silent until they got out of the house, and into the car, and back to Anita's house. Or at least until Miss Wendell came back. That much she could do.

"We'll see ourselves out," Miss Wendell said. Dawn barely had any warning before Anita and Miss Wendell came into the hall. Anita had a face like a thundercloud, and for the first time Dawn had a prickling of doubt. Anita didn't really want her any more... what if Anita told Miss Wendell that? What if Dawn had no place to go?

Anita grabbed Dawn's jacket from the hook and thrust it at her. "Come on, let's go."

Dawn jumped up and pulled her jacket on, worry squirming in her stomach. Where would she go if no one wanted her? Did Miss Wendell have a place to put her?

Anita quickly buttoned Dawn's jacket. She draped the scarf around Dawn's neck just as fast, then reached for her own jacket. Without a word, she grabbed Dawn's bag with one hand and almost pushed Dawn out of the house with the other.

So afraid that she worried she might be sick, Dawn followed Anita and Miss Wendell down the walk. She didn't look back at the house.

At the end of the walk, Miss Wendell put her briefcase on top of her car. "We can extend the emergency placement for a little while, but I don't know what we're going to do with regard to a permanent place for Dawn," she explained. "Mr. Walker was right, Dawn's history is making it very difficult to place her."

"We'll take her," Anita blurted out suddenly. Dawn stopped and stared, her mouth falling open. "We know her, we want her, we'll keep her."

Miss Wendell was also staring. "Ms. Blake, it's not that easy--"

"Like placing Dawn is easy?" Anita interrupted. "Look, I know there's the issue with Micah being a wereleopeard, but the legislation in this state says that a lycanthrope can be a foster parent, I checked it out. She'll be safe, she'll be healthy, I promise."

Miss Wendell blinked. Several times. "I know what the legislation says, but in practice, it's never been done, it's too dangerous!"

"It's not dangerous!" Anita dropped Dawn's bag on the ground. "No one in that house would do anything to hurt Dawn!"

Dawn was still stuck a few sentences back. Anita wanted her? Really? For keeps?

"I don't know if it will be approved," Miss Wendell protested. "The process to become a foster parent like that isn't easy."

"Nothing's easy," Anita shot back. "Whatever it takes, we'll do it."

Anita wanted her. A wave of relief rushed over Dawn, so complete and encompassing that it made her knees weak. She was going to stay with Anita. As long as Miss Wendell said yes.

After what felt like an eternity, Miss Wendell finally nodded. "We'll start the process," she said. "Now, why don't you get Dawn home?"

Anita stayed still for a moment, then shook her head. She grabbed Dawn's bag and headed to the jeep.

Impulsively, Dawn rushed over to Miss Wendell and grabbed her hand. "Thank you," she whispered.

Miss Wendell smiled at Dawn. "We're doing what's best for you," the woman said. "Now, go on. I'll be by the house in the next little while to talk with you about some things, okay?"

Dawn nodded, and ran after Anita. She was pretty sure that Anita wouldn't leave without her... but better to be safe than sorry.

Anita was putting the bag in the backseat when Dawn ran up. She held the door as Dawn climbed in. "Do you need help with the seatbelt?" Anita asked.

"Okay," Dawn said. Anita buckled the belt around Dawn's waist. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah," Anita muttered, stepping back to close the door. Dawn's good mood deflated substantially by the time Anita got into the driver's seat.

Didn't Anita want her? Anita had been the one to suggest that she keep Dawn permanently. So why was she so upset?

Dawn swallowed the lump in her throat and turned her head to look out the window as they drove away. The silence grew in the car until Dawn wanted to start screaming. Wasn't there ever going to be a time when someone actually wanted her? When she wouldn't be a burden?

"Why did you do it?" Dawn finally asked.

"Do what?"

Dawn looked at the back of Anita's head. "Tell Miss Wendell you want me when you don't?"

Anita glanced over her shoulder at Dawn, confusion on her face. Then the car was pulling out of traffic and to the side of the road. Anita killed the engine, then opened her door and got out of the car. A moment later, the back door on the other side of the car opened and Anita slid onto the seat next to Dawn.

"What made you think I didn't want you?" Anita demanded.

All the horrible bits of the day crashed down on Dawn and came spilling out of her mouth. "You were going to give me away!" she exclaimed. "You packed me up like an old toy and were going to give me to those people!"

"Dawn, I didn't know what else to do!" Anita's voice broke, and it suddenly occurred to Dawn that Anita was very close to breaking into tears. "We were never going to do this long-term, but I didn't know what I could do to keep you with us."

Dawn stared at Anita. "You want to keep me?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"One hundred percent, yes."

Dawn considered this for a moment. All she could feel from Anita was sincerity. She wanted to believe Anita so badly... But could she really?

She stared down at her hands. Tiny little baby hands, so unlike what she'd had before, but they were becoming familiar. Like Anita, and Micah and Nathaniel.

Coming to a decision, Dawn unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled over to Anita. Anita swept her up into a too-tight hug, a Buffy hug, and it was like being home again.

"Did you think I didn't want you?" Anita asked softly. "Is that why you were so upset this morning?"

Dawn nodded. "I didn't want to leave."

"I didn't want you to leave. I just-- I'm not sure what I'm doing," Anita confessed.

"You're doing fine," Dawn said, patting Anita's arm. "It all worked out, right? Even with a freak like me?"

Anita pulled back so she could look Dawn in the eye. "Dawn, don't say that about yourself," she said. "You're not a freak, you are a special little girl. If you can read minds... well, so what? I can raise zombies. It doesn't mean you're a bad person." She pulled Dawn back into the hug. "You're a very special little girl."

Dawn let her head rest on Anita's shoulder. So much had happened to her since she woke from the Buffy nightmare the previous night. She wasn't sure if she could take the excitement anymore.

"Oh!" Anita suddenly exclaimed. "I'm such an idiot."

"Why?" Dawn asked as Anita reached for the sports bag.

"Because I forgot that you didn't eat breakfast," Anita said, pulling out the brown paper lunch bag. "Here, you need to eat something."

With that reminder, Dawn was suddenly ravenous. She let Anita strap her back into the seat, all the time chewing on the cheese sandwich Nathaniel had made for her. They were halfway back to the house before Dawn emerged from her much delayed breakfast.

"They didn't have any pictures," she announced before taking a pull on her juice box.

"Who?" Anita asked over her shoulder.

"The Walkers. They had all those foster kids, right? So why no pictures?"

"I don't know," Anita said. "But you're right. No artwork, either."

"Mom had photos of me and Buffy all over the house," Dawn said, remembering. "She loved having pictures of us all over, even when she got sick."

"That sounds nice."

"She was the best mom ever," Dawn declared. "I know, you only really get one mom, but she was really nice." Dawn took another sip. "I miss her."

"You know what works, when you miss someone?" Anita said.

"What?"

"Talking about them, just like this. Sometimes..." Anita stared out the windshield, very intent on driving. "Even now, it helps me to remember my mother, when I talk about her."

"Was your mom the best mom ever, too?" Dawn asked, curious.

"Yeah," Anita said with a soft smile. "She was."

"Good," Dawn declared as the jeep pulled into the driveway of Anita's house. "Oh!"

"Now what?"

"We didn't tell Nathaniel!" Dawn stuffed the juice box back into the lunch bag. "We didn't tell him I get to stay! He thinks I'm gone!"

Anita winced. "Crap."

"I want to tell him!" Dawn hurriedly unbuckled her seatbelt and unlocked her door. "I'll tell him!"

Before Anita could protest, Dawn opened her door and climbed to the pavement. She raced up the driveway, up the porch steps, and opened the front door.

Without taking off her shoes, Dawn ran right into the living room. Nathaniel was sitting on the couch in the dark, staring at a pile of boxes that hadn't been there when Dawn left.

Dawn raced over to the couch and flung herself at Nathaniel. He caught her midair and sat her on the couch, looking totally confused. "What--"

"Anita said I can stay!" Dawn said excitedly. "She said I can stay, and you guys can be my permanent placement, and I don't have to stay with those icky Walkers and their stupid house and I can stay here! With you guys!"

Nathaniel looked up as Anita walked into the room, holding Dawn's bag. "Is this-- Really?"

Anita nodded awkwardly. "Yeah."

Nathaniel smiled a brilliant smile, and gathered Dawn up into a hug. He bounced off the couch, holding Dawn tight, and spun her around until she was screaming with laughter. "You get to stay!"

"Stop or I'll puke!" Dawn cried. Nathaniel obeyed. "Why were you sitting here in the dark?"

Nathaniel's grin never faltered. "I was trying to figure out where to put the Christmas tree," he said. "All those need a place to stay, don't they?"

Dawn's mouth dropped open. "Are those Christmas presents for me?" she squeaked. Nathaniel let her down and she ran over to the boxes, all wrapped up tightly. "Wow!"

As Dawn examined the pile, she kept an eye on the adults. Nathaniel approached Anita cautiously, as if she was about to bolt. "You were right," Anita said softly, voice husky. "Those people, they just--" She broke off, looked away. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, I just didn't know what else to do."

"It's okay," Nathaniel said, just as softly. He took the bag from Anita's hands and set it on the ground. "I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning."

Anita touched Nathaniel's chin, made him look up at her. "You were trying to protect Dawn, and I didn't get it." She smiled at him. "I get it now."

"Was it bad?" Nathaniel asked.

Anta glanced at Dawn, who pretended to be very interested in a box wrapped with blue snowman paper. "We'll talk about this later," she said. "But... thank you. For being so protective of Dawn."

Dawn rolled her eyes. The schmoop factor in the room was going through the roof. If the sweetness levels in the room went much higher, she might develop sudden onset diabetes. "Can I have a cookie?" Dawn asked, heading for the kitchen. "I'm hungry!"

"There's cookies on the table," Nathaniel called. "Do you want some lunch?"

"In a little while." Dawn spotted the cookies as soon as she entered the kitchen. Oh, perfect.

She unbuttoned her jacket and dropped it over the chair, grabbed a cookie, then headed for the cordless phone. With a mouthful of chocolate chip, Dawn hit the speed dial.

"Hello?"

"Hi Micah!" Dawn exclaimed.

"Dawn?" Micah's worry came through the phone line, loud and clear. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Dawn said. "Anita's going to let me stay! You can be my foster parents until Buffy finds me!"

"Dawn..." Micah didn't sound as excited as he should have been. "What exactly is going on?"

Dawn took another bite of cookie. "We met the people and they were weird and thought I was disturbed and Miss Wendell said I could stay with you guys a little longer, and then Anita said I could stay forever."

Micah was quiet for a moment. "Dawn, are you at home?"

"Uh huh."

"Is Anita with you?"

"One second, I'll go get her." Dawn carried the phone towards the living room. "But did you mean what you said this morning? About wanting to keep me?"

"Yes, Dawn, I meant that," Micah said quietly.

"Good," Dawn declared. "Anita, phone-- Ew!"

Anita and Nathaniel broke from their tight embrace. "I didn't hear it ring," Anita said, smoothing down her shirt.

Dawn made a face. Grownups were so gross. It was just like Buffy and Riley, all over again. "I know. Micah's questioning the veracity of my claims."

Anita took the phone from Dawn. "You have the oddest way of saying things," she said as she lifted the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

Dawn turned to Nathaniel, hands on her hips. "Nice lipstick, buddy."

Nathaniel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, not looking at all repentant. "Where do you think we should put that Christmas tree?"

Dawn looked around the room, warm and safe and full of people that wanted her, and sighed a happy sigh.

If only Buffy would be here, it would be close to perfect.

to be continued