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Edward looked amused. "Did I go fang-y?"
The side of his mouth formed a crooked and endearing grin.
"At least one of them is 'yours,'" he said, assigning the word the right value with voice inflection. "I can tell from how you speak."
He sighed, dropping his head back and pursing his lips. The jabs were going to keep coming. He knew that, too.
When he turned his face back to Dawn, it was painfully open. "I can read people's thoughts," he said, point blank. "I can't read yours. You are the only person I have ever met in my entire life who's mind I can't hear."
He looked at her expectantly. "Can you explain that?"
I wish.
The thought came and went fleetingly, but something in Dawn's stomach clenched when Edward said 'yours'. She was so far over that, she was over the hill and down the valley. Over. It was so ridiculously unrealistic.
"I didn't really pause to check," she said wryly, then shook her head. "And he's not 'mine'. Like I said, just a friend." She wrapped her arms around herself as they walked, warding off the chill. It was still mid-afternoon, and the sun was high - or would have been, if it was visible through the thick layer of clouds in the sky - but Dawn was a California girl and it looked like it was going to be a cold autumn for Sunnydale. She wasn't impressed.
But she was intrigued by what Edward had said - intrigued and scared. She took a deep breath, looking down, watching the sidewalk, her hair separating her from him like a curtain. Should she tell him? He might be able to help her. Or he could use that information for his own gain. Even if she didn't think he would physically harm her again, she didn't know how he played the game.
"Not to say I'm not relieved," she said with a dry laugh, "but you're right, that is weird. And no, I can't explain it. Not in any way that you'd like, at least." She paused again, considering. Shivered.
"Have you ever heard of a Key?"
Both Edward's eyebrows danced upwards. "He," he said, turning the word over. "And... your sister is alright with this?"
He walked calmly along, listening.
"What do you mean, 'any way that I'd like?'" He stopped walking and just looked at Dawn.
"Are we talking about particular key, or just any key? I'm... trying to understand, Dawn. I don't mean to be dense or rude, but..." the crooked grin came back, just for a second. "... this has not, as you might've noticed, been my day. And there's more to it than just... me being hungry and not being able to do something I normally can, without even trying."
A woman passed then, and he stood straight, basically ignoring her, eyes still on Dawn.
Not even a look up? Huh. I must be losing my touch. I guess he's a little young for me...
Edward raised both eyes skyward momentarily, and then just nodded, as though this was the perfect addition to the entire experience.
"Well, no," Dawn said hesitantly, wondering how to explain the Spike phenomenon. "But kind of yes. It's a long story. She was really supposed to stake him years ago, but she never got around to it, and now he's been around for so long that it would be awkward." He's Buffy's more than anyone's, she added silently, really glad that Edward couldn't read her mind, even if it meant that she was some kind of supernatural mystery. "I mean, he's okay. He helps out. With the patrolling and stuff, sometimes."
She didn't really want to discuss Spike with Edward, anyway. It was too weird. Maybe not as weird as the Key thing, but that was a more welcome topic to her.
"Not your day?" she repeated incredulously, her eyebrows shooting up, sparks glinting in her eyes. "You almost ate me. I think that constitutes a bad day." She paused, sighed. "And, yeah, I know you're sorry, so let's not go there again, okay? I was talking about a Key, with a capital 'K'. The Key. All I know is that it has something to do with a green aura and with me. And that someone's looking for it and wants to use it. But what it opens and what's in there, I have no idea. And what I have to do with it." She shrugged apologetically. "I told you I couldn't tell you anything."
She watched the woman saunter by, absently, her eyes following her. She noticed the way she seemed to slow down as she passed Edward (not that Dawn blamed her) and shot him a furtive glance. And all that time, she felt Edward's eyes on her. Her gaze flickered to him, just to catch him rolling his eyes. But he'd been facing her the entire time. He couldn't have known what the woman...
"Did you just-" Dawn's eyes opened wide as she watched the woman walk away; she leaned in instinctively, whispering, "read her mind?"
"Staked him?" Edward repressed a laugh. "This could get interesting."
Once the woman passed, he dealt with Dawn's reaction. "Yes, and you don't have to whisper," he said. "She's not paying any attention to either of us, anymore."
He took a deep, slow breath, glad that even though Dawn still smelled like something he wanted to take a bite out of, he had enough control now NOT to do that.
Edward took one thing at a time, now. "It's been a bad day all around," he offered, eyebrows raising in a gesture meant to show he meant no harm.
He tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing, and looking at Dawn, a smirk forming. "You don't look green to me," he said. He straighted his head, and walked around her in a small circle. "Still not green."
His mind retreated to touching her, to the jolt he'd felt, and Edward wondered if that had to do with whatever this key phenomenon was.
"Should I be bringing you home if your sister might try to ram a piece of wood into my chest on principle?" he asked, laughing.
"Not so interesting if you're on the pointy end," Dawn remarked, but she had to smile in return. It made sense if you knew what you were talking about, but out of context, it sounded absurd.
Gods! It was so weird. She wanted to sit down on the sidewalk, cover her face with her hands and take several deep breaths so she could stop having the urge to throw up her hands and run away screaming. At first she'd thought he was just a rude new kid who thought he was too good for a small town like Sunnydale, but he kept surprising her. And not in the good way.
Instead, she bit her lip as he circled her, the only indication that his actions made her nervous being the tightening of her hands on her upper arms. Her knuckles paled slightly, and her heartbeat sped up, but she forced herself to stand still as he completed his circle. She knew he didn't mean it like that, but to her it felt almost... predatory. She brushed her fingertips across her neck absently, and the tiny wounds tingled in response.
"I said green aura," she pointed out, proud of her voice for not shaking. "You can't see auras, can you? There was a vampire who told me I glowed green. He was a little bit crazy, but... for some reason, it's the crazy ones who can tell that there's something different about me." She eyed him, pausing. "You're not secretly crazy, are you? Because that would just be the total end to my day. And anyway, Buffy won't stake you. She thinks vampires only go around at night. As a matter of fact, so did I, up until today. And she won't know unless I'm very honest about how school went today." Her eyes glinted with merriment, but she rather enjoyed seeing his reaction to what could be a veiled threat. Let's see if she can make him squirm.
"Oh, I'm completely crazy," Edward countered. "And it's no secret."
He winked at Dawn. He heard her heart speed up, and he saw every action that put her on her guard, from her touching the tiny marks on her neck to gripping the flesh of her arm. He was, indeed, a predator... and a good one. But the intent had been merely to look her over, not to make her more upset.
"Buffy," he repeated, pulling his lower lip into his mouth. That was just NOT a common name. But then again... California. He'd let that go.
He waited for Dawn to start walking again, having no idea beyond the basics of where they were headed. "And if you were completely honest... I would have something to contend with?"
Edward's eyes glimmered happily. "Not that I condone lying. In any way. At all."
"You keep this sarcasm up, and you'll have something to contend with," Dawn warned him, frowning. She just didn't understand how he could go so quickly between pathetically apologetic and sarcastically smirking. It was like he was two different people and he couldn't make up his mind about which one he wanted to be today. It was frustrating.
"I mean, she does this for a living," she explained, "the whole slaying gig. Only it actually doesn't earn a living, even though I think she should totally get paid. But being the Chosen One means super-strength, agility, accelerated healing, the works. She's not just a girl who knows martial arts. She's the Slayer on a whole other supernatural prophetic level. And yeah, she's good."
They rounded a corner, Dawn avoiding Edward's eyes, not liking the implications of the look in them. Or rather, not liking the fact that she was inexplicably drawn to that look. Logically, she should be telling Buffy to please slay the vampire who ruined her no-bite streak. But she knew, quite certainly, that she did not want Edward Cullen dead. It went against everything she knew she should feel about vampires. There were growing to be too many exceptions to that rule. It was hard enough dealing with Spike.
"So if you ever meet her - which, believe me, you don't want to do - I'd keep your extracurricular activities to yourself, Edward Cullen."
Edward bit his lower lip to keep from smiling. He really did like her. The more he liked her, the more sorry he felt for what he'd done.
Okay. Slayer meant serious potential trouble. Yay.
Extracurricular activities. That was one way of putting it.
"First and last name," he mused. "I can't say I don't deserve that, either."
Now it was beyond maddening that he couldn't read her. Dawn might really be angry. Her body language went back and forth between fear and ease.
Edward decided that he was not a fan of Sunnydale.
And now he felt personally responsible. For Dawn. Whatever she was. He looked over the tree-lined street. Revello Drive. At least it was prettier here than Forks.
"How long have these... things... been going on with you?" he asked, tone even. "Always?"
"Things?" Dawn raised her eyebrows, shrugging. "Which things, the being friends with vampires or the glowing green? You really have to be more specific."
She found it strange, how easily she could talk to him. If she'd tried at school, at most, she could've gotten out a few words before she was reduced to squeaking and was forced to run away. A near-death experience really brought people together, she thought with a smirk, even when one of the people was the one who caused it.
They rounded a corner and walked halfway down the block before Dawn stopped. "Told you I was close," she said, using her chin to point at the house.
"Alright, then, either thing," Edward replied, grinning slightly. "I don't get the sense that you've been dealing with these things your entire life."
Despite not being able to literally read Dawn's mind, Edward was still very observant. And she was still telling him a decent amount. He'd fill in more blanks than he'd admit on his own.
He followed her chin toward the house. Number 1630, quite nice actually. Edward smiled slightly. "You really are," he said, turning to look her in the eye. That sentence, he realized, could have several possible meanings, coming from him, and all of them were most likely applicable.
There was no car in the street, or in the driveway, and that led him to believe that Dawn's sister was not there. His eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't sure if he should leave her alone. She seemed to be alright, but what if, if he left, she went into some kind of shock over the day's events?
"Let's get you inside, then," he said, one arm hovering near her waist as he started up the walk.
"Oh, so now you're Mister Perceptive?" Dawn raised her eyebrows skeptically, then laughed. Vampires usually were. They'd had a lot of time to learn how to read people - those who bothered, anyway.
"I guess the Slayer thing was only a couple of years ago. That's when Buffy told us, anyway," she admitted as they walked up to the porch. "That explained a lot. As for the glowing green thing, that's a new one. Although we've been getting a lot of strange new things here lately, so I don't know."
They climbed the steps and Dawn tried the doorknob. Locked, as usual. It probably wouldn't be if Buffy and company were home. She didn't know where they hung out these days, but the Summers house was command central less and less. Some days Dawn liked the peace and quiet, but others, she just felt desperately left out.
Glancing at Edward, she fumbled in her bookbag for a key. "Home alone," she quipped, laughing a little. "So, do you need, like, an invitation? Or can you just walk right in?"
Edward smiled, slightly. He was always Mr. Perceptive, actually. Even as a human. Just as Alice had always been able to just know things.
"What kind of strange things?" he asked. "Seems to me you've already got your hands full with strange things. You might consider learning to juggle."
He watched Dawn fumble, the slight smile still in place. She was very likeable, and seemed very... real. He had his doubts about exactly what she was--he got the impression Dawn really believed she was human, or at least had until quite recently. Edward didn't think so.
But she was a little addicting.
"It's just you and your sister, then?" An eyebrow arched.
And now he laughed. "I'd like an invitation," he said. "I don't particularly need one. This means your horror movie vampires do, I think."
He crossed his arms over his chest, hands resting on either elbow, and waited, bemused look on his face. "I'm not coming in unless you want me to."
"Funny," Dawn said, pulling out the key from her bag and fitting it into the lock. Watching the doorknob turn, she felt a slow, sinking feeling, deep down. Keys and locks. What did it all mean?
"Sunnydale is like the birthplace of strange," she explained. "Things are drawn here because of the mystical energy - it's like a hotspot. Don't tell me you didn't feel it. But lately, things have been extra-strange. Crazy vampires who can read minds, federally appointed vampire executioners, werewolves who are strippers-" She caught the look on his face at the last one and laughed, throwing back her head.
"It's just me and Buffy, usually," she answered, her face sobering as she thought of her sister. Or tried not to. "It's a safe place for others, sometimes, but it's just us. Or, actually, just me."
She pushed open the door, considering.
"Come in, then," she said finally. Despite everything, she wasn't ready to be alone.
Edward's eyes hardened. Wolves. Perfect. And why not, with the way today had been going? Actually, he was pretty sure Carlisle had mentioned wolves around here...
He let it go. Dawn was processing enough without adding the fact that, where he was from, werewolves and vampires were like the Montagues and the Capulets.
He stepped inside, both eyebrows raised. "Thank you," Edward said.
His eyes danced over pictures that hung in the stairwell, and on the wall next to the door. It might just be Dawn and Buffy, but it hadn't always been that way.
A picture of Buffy, Dawn, and what he guessed was their mother was on a small table at Edward's left. His jaw worked, and Edward swallowed.
"Are all of you this..." he raised his eyes to Dawn, shutting the door behind him. He was going to say 'alive,' because of the animated, pretty faces in the frame. But his gut told him not to. "Vivacious?"
Spike might've agreed with his asessement. The Summers women did have a way about them.
"We're California girls," Dawn laughed. "It kind of comes with the territory."
Her eyes skimmed the pictures. They were all so familiar, and Dawn could remember the exact moment that each one had been taken. But she hadn't taken the time to look at them lately. It had hurt too much, after... and later on, she just didn't want to think about it. The happy, laughing family in those pictures was gone. Dawn and Buffy were practically strangers now, and Joyce...
"That's my mom," she said, her gaze studying Joyce's happy, smiling face in the photo of them on the beach, Buffy clutching a brightly colored beach ball, Dawn's hair about to fly into her face. "She's - she was really cool." No, that's not right, she was so much more... Dawn looked down at the keys in her hand, closed her fingers into a fist over them.
"It was something with her brain," she said, her voice nearly inaudible. She didn't know why she was telling him this, only that she had to. It made it more real. Maybe it would help her move on. "A tumor or something. At least it wasn't... you know. It was natural."
California girls. Edward smirked, that one side of his face twitching up into a crooked little smile.
He was going to have to desensitize himself, if she was right. So much life, all around him... this wasn't going to be so easy.
He processed what Dawn said, and could tell from her tone--and the slip of forgetting to say 'was'-- that this had been recent.
"I'm very, very sorry, Dawn," Edward said, biting at his lower lip momentarily. He glanced down at the picture one more time. "She was beautiful," he mused, raising his eyes to Dawn's. "I see where you get those eyes from, now."
He waited a minute, letting that sit. The marks on her neck were faint, but they were still there.
"How are you feeling? Here I am making you stand here..."
"Thank you," Dawn murmured. She looked into the eyes of the Joyce in the photograph. There were only memories left now. She had to make sure she remembered the good ones.
She was about to look away when the photograph flickered. Something in the image changed. Dawn peered closer. Joyce and Buffy's smiling faces were still there, but she, Dawn, was gone. There was an empty space between her mother and her sister, but they still looked natural, sitting on the beach. The image flickered, and Dawn's shape came into focus once before fading away again.
Dawn gasped, recoiling. Closing her eyes, she stumbled backwards, almost losing her footing. It was a picture without her in it. She wasn't there. Maybe she never was. Was it all a lie?
Edward felt the changes in Dawn, even if he couldn't see what she saw.
When she stumbled backward, his mouth opened slightly in not-quite-surprise. She'd been close to falling. Edward's reaction was too fast for her to see.
It was like he'd always been standing there, behind her, waiting to catch her. Before she could fall, Edward caught Dawn gently by the arm.
"I think," he said, "maybe you should sit down."
His eyes darted to the couch, where a few nights ago, Gunn had slept, back to Dawn's. "Humor me."
One moment, he'd been standing next to the pictures, and the next, Edward was right behind her, his hand at her elbow, holding her up. This was the second time in one day that she'd needed help standing on her own two legs. She vaguely thought that she hoped he didn't think she was some sort of damsel in distress. At least this time, it hadn't been his fault.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide, shocked. She wanted to ask him if he'd seen that, if the picture had really changed. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. She glanced back at the photograph.
It was back to normal, Dawn's grinning face wedged between Joyce and Buffy.
She was going to go crazy just like everyone else in Sunnydale.
She looked back at Edward, embarassed that she was falling all over him again like some idiot, and nodded. "I think maybe you're right," she said, but her voice shook. She hadn't imagined that shift. And she didn't know whether to focus on that, or the little sparks Edward's hand on her arm was sending through the rest of her body.
"Couch is good," she murmured.
He thought about just carrying Dawn over there, and resisted the urge. That might be a bit much for one day.
Edward nodded, helping her to the couch, and gently settling Dawn onto it.
He sat next to her, hair falling a bit into his eyes, and looked carefully at her.
It was not a good sign, either, that touching Dawn in the least made his skin feel like he'd stuck his hand in an electrical outlet. What the hell was going on?
He pressed a long-fingered hand to either side of his nose, eyebrows raising, and dropped both hands into his lap.
"I know," Edward said, "that that had nothing to do with me. Are you sure you're okay?"
"No, I'm fine." Dawn forced herself to smile in what she hoped was a reassuring way. She hoped that Edward, unlike Spike, couldn't smell lies. That whole smelling-your-emotions thing was a little too weird and really quite inconvenient.
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and covered her face with her hands, breathing slowly and deeply. She'd hallucinated. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She was tired and stressed out and after what had happened earlier, it was a wonder she wasn't a complete wreck.
Somehow, she didn't quite believe it.
"I didn't sleep well last night," she gave belatedly as a lame excuse, wondering immediately why she even made the effort. Taking one last deep breath, she straightened, looking at Edward with a bright smile. Her skin still tingled.
"Do you want anything? Your kind don't eat, do they? Spike does. Well, he eats junk food, and drinks a lot, sometimes." She laughed a little. It made him sound like an alcoholic. She wondered if there was any good way to describe Spike. Probably not.
Edward looked at Dawn, bemused. "You're not fine, but I'll let it go. I'm not pushing my luck with you, Dawn."
His expression changed to one of concern as she doubled herself over. There wasn't anything he could do; any physical attempt to comfort her would be scary, he reasoned. Edward was cold. And like marble. He was not cuddly.
Besides, he wasn't overstepping any more bounds.
...didn't sleep well last night.
There was a wry smile, and after her next comment, it became a large, warm, boyish grin.
"I can eat, but I don't really..." he thought about how to explain it. "It's not nourishment. You could eat a piece of paper, technically, right? Same principle."
He paused, looking at Dawn with a face that betrayed something like shock.
"His name is SPIKE? Your vampire. Spike. Seriously? Ha!"
Dawn shrugged. "I didn't name him." She'd never really thought about it, his name. She knew his name had been William, back when he was human, but to her he was just Spike. She didn't think it was stupid or silly or anything. It was just him.
"And he's not mine," she said irritably, standing up. Her knees trembled, but held. God, she'd been behaving like an idiot the entire day, in more ways than one. She'd managed to make a complete idiot of herself while putting her life in danger. Two bad moves in one! Ask me how!
"I need food," she said. "And coffee." She knew she should probably sleep, but honestly, it was the middle of the day and she probably shouldn't close her eyes, anyway. She was afraid of the kind of dreams she would have. "So if you want anything..." she shrugged.
Edward bit his lower lip to keep from laughing harder at Spike's name. Spike. Honestly.
There was no way the guy wasn't over the top. It wasn't possible.
Dawn stood, and his eyes followed her. Muscles tensed, ready to grab her if she faltered again.
If you want anything...
He lowered his eyes. What Edward wanted, he'd already taken, hadn't he? And anything else... anything else was beyond Dawn's power. He'd take back the bite if he could, now.
He raised his eyes back to hers. "Do you have coffee here?" Edward asked. "I'm not entirely useless when it comes to these things. Point me toward the kitchen."
He gave Dawn a smile, more than half wishing things today had been very different.
"Of course we have coffee," Dawn said, as if that was a ludicrous question. "My sister patrols graveyards until the unholy hours, what do you think we run on? Pure determination?" She slipped her hands into her back pockets. She was never sure what to do with her hands, hating to just stand there with her arms hanging at her sides like some sort of orangatan or something.
"It's through here," she said, gesturing with her elbow through the dining room and the door in the far wall. "I guess I should give you the grand tour." She wasn't sure why she'd be doing that, considering he's bitten her - it would take her a while to get over that - but she supposed that as long as he was in her house, she should be a gracious hostess. She could always stake him later. Or whatever else it took to kill his kind. For some reason, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Dawn Summers just didn't learn from her mistakes.
Edward laughed, just once. "Graveyards?" Both eyebrows raised in disbelief. "This gets better and better."
He smiled at her coffee comment, and grudgingly followed her to the kitchen. He'd wanted her to sit, and relax... he was going to do something nice, something long overdue, he figured, to at least try to smooth things over. And Dawn was still up and walking around.
It was simultaneously admirable, sweet, and ridiculous.
"You're not going to collapse, are you?" he asked, light dancing in his eyes. "There's a couch. The couch is good. You said it yourself," Edward said, tone back to playful.
This could get out of hand.
"Yes, graveyards, where the vampires like to hang out, remember? It's like they have something about graves. Once they get put into one, they can't be too far away from them." Dawn paused. It was odd how she was calling vampires 'them', when one was standing right in front of her. But he was a different sort of vampire... once again, she wondered how that worked. What made them all different from each other?
In the kitchen, Dawn hopped up on the counter, heels tapping lightly against the cabinet under her. "I'm fine," she repeated impatiently. "I'm not some Victorian fainting heroine, all pale and interesting." No, whatever he was planning on doing, she wasn't going to make it easy, even if she wasn't aware of his plans. Dawn could be very stubborn when she wanted to - it came with the territory of having an older sister like Buffy. It took a determined person to have a battle of wills with the Slayer and hope to win.
Where the vampires like to hang out...
Edward's face was fairly blank. "Not all of them," he said, the lilt in his voice giving the word a little extra satin.
He watched her hop up on the counter with a small chuckle. "You're making me very nervous, Dawn," he said. "Again."
She was small enough that her legs dangled a bit, and Edward thought of Alice for a split second. Alice who was probably wearing a hole in his voicemail.
"You're more interesting," Edward said, not missing a beat.
He stood in front of her on the counter, eyes darting over her neck and the wound that was small and closed now. He couldn't smell it anymore, couldn't smell her blood. He saw the Mr. Coffee next to the sink.
"So where's this coffee?" he asked, lowering his eyes and then raising them. "I hear maybe it replenishes red blood cells."
"Not all of them," Dawn agreed. "My vampires." She smiled, although she was repressing a shiver. She didn't like the way his words were gliding over her skin. She didn't like it at all.
"I'm making you nervous?" she asked incredulously, pausing in her mild attack of the cabinet. "Are you kidding? A part of me is still thinking that you'll reconsider on that whole let's-not-bite-Dawn issue. And you think I'm intimidating? Why?"
She watched him intently, flushing a little when he said he found her interesting. He was just saying that to be nice. Right? Because it was kind of like a setup, even though she hadn't intended for it to be, and he didn't want to seem like a jerk. But his proximity to her was making her nervous, and she stilled. Her breath came shallower. Right now, she'd really hate to admit that she kind of wanted to feel that tiny electric shock again.
Silently, she leaned to the side a little bit, opening the cabinet next to her and taking out a packet of Starbucks, bold blend, already ground. Catching her lip between her teeth, she held it out to him.
He bit his lower lip and shook his head at her voice inflection. Dawn was really letting him suffer for his own words.
"Yes," Edward said, nodding his head once. "You're making me nervous. You're unprecedented. You think I get this flustered around every girl I meet?"
He arched an eyebrow, taking the coffee out of her hand, not taking his eyes off of hers. He was working around her, but very close. Close enough that one movement would make them touch.
He wondered if Dawn had noticed the way he'd reacted to the rest of the Sunnydale High kids.
Edward put the filter into the basket and emptied some coffee into it. The smell was something wonderful, and distracting. And good.
He lowered his eyes, continuing the production of the coffee, pouring water in, eyelashes black against the white of his face.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he said.
He took the coffee out of her hand and Dawn bit her lip harder, trying very hard to stamp out the sinking feeling of disappointment when their fingers didn't touch. God, she thought, wildly relieved that he couldn't read her, whatever it meant for her humanity, stop being such an idiot. Why was she always falling for vampires that she didn't have a chance with, ones who were particularly dangerous and unpredictable? She should really learn to have better self-control - something she and Edward seemed to have in common, ironically enough. She kicked the cabinet under her harder, bitterly.
She watched him make coffee, wondering how he managed to be so effortlessly graceful. Even Spike fell over himself once in a while, and those fledgelings that Buffy slayed every night... there was no competition. If she bit her lip any harder, she'd draw blood.
"I'm thinking I wish I could get flustered like you," she said softly. "I end up falling all over myself and breaking things. But you seem so... calm. Like you're completely in control."
Her feet hitting the cabinet made him raise his eyes to hers, and that half-smile spread across his face.
Meeting her eyes meant seeing her biting her lip. If she drew blood, all bets were off. She had no idea how close she was to falling through thin ice.
"Flustered like me?" Edward asked, making it a question. Hot water bubbled now, filling up the pot very slowly with coffee.
"After my behavior earlier," he said, opening a cabinet above Dawn's head, eyes following his hand upward until he found a mug, then returning her her face. He set the cup on the counter, then placed a hand on either side of where Dawn sat. It put him much too close, but correcting that now would be awkward.
"I can't imagine why you think I'm in control of anything," he said.
His half-smile made her heart sink somewhere to the region of her knees. Stupid, she told herself firmly, convinced that all she needed was a cup of hot coffee and a good night's sleep. And to be as far away from Edward as possible. The coffee she was getting. The other things... she wasn't so sure.
Her eyes followed his hand as it reached above her head, heart sinking lower, if that was possible, the hollow in her chest replaced by butterflies, beating their wings wildly against the frame of her body. He moved closer, and she forced herself to hold very, very still, fighting the urge to either pull back or jump into his arms. The first would offend him. The second... god, what was this, Dawn-makes-an-idiot-of-herself day? She needed a good slap across the face and a cold shower.
Too close. Dangerous vampire, too close. Her breathing became shallow, her mouth slightly open. She wasn't afraid, not really. It would probably be better if she was.
"I didn't say you were," she countered softly, meeting his eyes. It was about the most she could do. "I said you seemed like you were. And, well, I'm not dead."
Edward straightened, blinking. "I've had 90 years to practice," he said. "But nobody's perfect. I was very stupid."
He pulled his hands off the counter, intending to tuck them innocuosly into his front pockets. In doing so, one hand grazed Dawn's leg. Edward stopped breathing.
It was distinct. A jolt.
What was the reason for the shock, the electricity? It wasn't infatuation... right? He'd never given much thought to such things. But Dawn's energy, whatever she was... it lit her up. It was contagious. It was beautiful. And it made her blood like a fine rare wine.
If she was very perceptive, she'd notice him not breathing. He was less worried about that than the consequences of falling off the wagon.
There were moments of silence that he let stretch. If he didn't, something very bad was going to happen.
He relegated his hands to his pockets before he opened his mouth again.
"You felt that, didn't you?"
The coffee pot was almost full.
"I suppose I kind of walked into it," Dawn admitted, her voice low, tilting her head in a semblance of a shrug. "I should've left you alone."
But she didn't, and things had happened, and here they were. And this was not the logical chain of events that Dawn would've expected. If someone had told her yesterday that today she'd be stupidly crushing on a vampire who was making her coffee in her very own kitchen after biting her and nearly poisoning her, she would've laughed. And then walked away very quickly because that was just crazy.
His hand brushed her leg, and she had to close her eyes to ride out the wave of electricity that ran through her body. If this happened when he barely touched her, what would happen if-
Okay, really not going to go there. Nope. Not happening.
She opened her eyes, her lip caught between her teeth again, the sharp pain helping to bring her back to reality. Edward was very still. She closed her eyes again, letting the silence stretch between them. He should leave. She should make him leave. Things were just getting progressively worse.
And of course, he decided to point out the elephant in the corner. We both know it's there. Can't we just drop it?
"Are you kidding?" she whispered. Her hands, gripping the edges of the counter, were turning white.
Edward started to shake his head at the absurdity of that. She had tried to return a pen, and he had bitten her.
In what way was this Dawn's fault?
He bit his lower lip into his mouth, running his tongue over it before releasing it. The tables, he noticed, were turned. She was now gripping the counter.
This was not good.
"I'm very much not kidding," he answered, voice a rough whisper. "This is not..." Edward cursed under his breath, shaking his head. "... things like this don't happen."
The way his presence was affecting her was now painfully obvious. And since he'd been brilliant enough to point out the way she affected him...
"Do things like this normally happen to you? Is this... something I've just neglected to notice for the past several decades?"
His eyes were soft, serious. Edward looked her in the eye, glad the coffee was almost ready and that there'd be a distraction. "I should leave," he said, both eyebrows raising.
"Welcome to Sunnydale," Dawn murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "All bets are off."
Instinctively, she raised her hand to brush her fingertips across her throat, feeling the ache as the joints of her fingers came unlocked. To her surprise, she found the mark nearly gone, only a faint tingle to remind her that it was ever there.
Her heart jumped at the rough crackle of his voice. God, she was as bad as any teenage girl, crushing on a bad boy. Only this one could actually kill her - had actually tried. She still had no way of being sure that he was sincere, that he wouldn't try again, other than her instinct. Which was usually pretty reliable, perceptive as she was, but when her life was on the line, she would've preferred to have something more than instinct to go by. A truth spell, maybe.
Not that it would mean anything. She was just tired and stressed out and confused. Gods, she needed a nap.
She folded her hands in her lap, fingers intertwining. "I think you're pretty perceptive," she managed, just barely keeping her voice from breaking. "You'd have noticed." Opening her eyes, she met his gaze, trying very hard to be brave and composed. It was probably the hardest thing she'd ever done. "This has never happened to me before. Maybe it's a side effect of the Key thing, I don't know," she continued, making up excuses now that didn't make any sense. She knew it wasn't true. "I'm sure there's a reasonable way to explain everything."
A bold-faced lie.
She was thankful for the smell of coffee filling the kitchen, something normal and everyday to tie her to the real world. When did you turn into a pathetic little girl? Please. Snap out of it. "You probably should," she agreed, hoping her tone didn't give away the fact that she was feeling exactly the opposite.
Her heartbeat was erratic. Edward could hear it jump around, almost feel it.
He'd have noticed, she said. Maybe he'd just been doing such a good job hanging around the sidelines...
"Reasonable explanations?" He arched an eyebrow. "I thought all bets were off."
Edward didn't have to be actually reading her to know that wasn't true. He smiled then, unevenly, and backed away, making good on the promise about the coffee. He poured a cup, looking for sugar on the counter, eyebrows furrowed, and finally sat the cup, black, next to Dawn.
"You'll have to tell me how you take it," he said.
He was leaving. He was. Leaving soon, calling Alice, and finding out what the hell was going on.
"Shut up, I'm trying to rationalize," Dawn said weakly, her resolve already crumbling. She clenched her hands tighter in her lap, watching him back away slowly, pouring the coffee, his movements ridiculously, effortlessly graceful. Stupid, charming vampire.
She picked up the cup of coffee when he set it down next to her, wrapping her fingers around it, taking comfort in its secure warmth. Bringing it up to her face, she inhaled the steam, closing her eyes thankfully. Distractions were good.
"Cream, no sugar," she said simply. "But really, any way, as long as I get some at all." She smiled, trying to make it look easy, but it took some effort.
Edward's mouth twitched into a smile.
He spent 10 seconds wondering if he'd ever had coffee (couldn't remember, honestly) and another 10 watching Dawn's reaction to it.
Edward felt oddly torn.
He liked Dawn, very much liked her personality... and those eyes were growing on him, too. But the longer he stayed the more danger she was in. If he touched her again, and that energy inside her reacted... he might not be able to stop himself.
The guilt of that alone would probably kill him, if her older sister, the hunter, didn't first. "It's safer if I leave," he said, voice low.
"Assuming you're alright. I can't tell anymore. I'm not used to having to work so hard to know what someone's feeling."
"I'm fine," Dawn said for what felt like the millionth time today. Of course, she wasn't complaining that the vampire who'd bitten her was actually concerned about her well-being. Otherwise, she would've had to stake him, and that wouldn't have worked, and then things would've gotten very complicated. Not that they hadn't already, but at least she wasn't in danger. Well, she was pretty sure she wasn't in danger.
She took a sip of the coffee, and nodded. It would be best if he left, despite what she wanted. She didn't want to get bitten again, but she didn't want to be without his company.
Ugh, snap out of it!
"You should, um, go," she said quietly. "Thanks for the coffee." Now that she had the mug in her hands and the warmth slowly returned to her body, she felt a deep, profound exhaustion. The first day of school was stressful enough without meeting a brand new vampire. Well, brand new for her, at least. She wanted to crawl under the covers and not come out for a long time. Maybe being asleep would make it easier to be alone.
Shut up.
Edward nodded. "Probably before your sister comes home."
He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized was held. He was almost going to apologize--again--but he knew at least this much: Dawn was getting sick of that.
Edward's eyes stayed on Dawn's as he backed up slightly again. "Coffee wasn't enough of an amends," he said. "I'll work on it."
There was a brief pause. "Dawn, if you don't see me in class... it's not your fault, okay? There are some things that are going to need to be taken care of. I'll still be here."
And if it was sunny out... well, she could figure that out, couldn't she?
As much as she didn't want him to go - shut up - Dawn found it easier to breathe the further away he got. Practically hiding behind her mug, she nodded again. The last thing she wanted was to explain all of this to Buffy.
"Just... be careful," she said. "And we're okay."
Her heart dropped a little when he said that he might not be in class. Then... what was the point of coming to school, if she couldn't see him? Oh, god... what would she tell Janice?
"I'll see you around, then," she said, trying to keep the hope out of her voice. Trying not to make it sound like a question that she needed an answer to.
Edward nodded, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, pale hand on the frame. "I'm glad," he said.
He waited a second, watching something like disappointment flash behind her eyes. He smirked. "You'll see me," he echoed.
And if she didn't, he'd still be there. He'd keep track. He felt responsible, now. Dawn needed some protecting, and she was in pain.
He hoped 'her' vampire understood that about her, since he'd learnt it in one day.
Both eyebrows raised and lowered, and Edward's mouth twitched at the corners.
"Be careful, Dawn," he said.
He dropped his hand from the doorway and turned, and faster than should've been possible, he was out the door and back on the street.
It was still overcast. At least there was that. Edward headed back toward the high school, his car, and the inevitable conversation he'd have with Alice.