Dawning Light 13: End of the World News (Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Anita Blake) PG
HAY LOOKIE.
Dawning Light
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Anita Blake crossover
Chapter Thirteen: End of the World News
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: 4,860
Spoilers: Danse Macabre only, nothing from subsequent books.
Note: All I can say is, this story is from Dawn's point of view, but the real story in this is the reaction of the adults. I've tried to keep it both true to Dawn and her view of the world, and how I'd react if I was Anita. Man, this story is hard to write.
Previous parts here
~~~~~
Buffy stared down at Dawn, peering through a hole ripped in the ceiling, blood on her lips pouring down her chin. Her mouth moved slowly, but only choking sounds came out. She was looking for Dawn, and Dawn waved her hands and shouted up at Buffy, but Buffy couldn’t see her amongst all the blood.
And oh, the blood. Pouring down from rivers in Buffy's skin, down her arms, down down down, pouring all around Dawn, holding her down and not letting her move.
Dawn tried to scream, to fight her way back to Buffy, but there was so much blood and it burned and Buffy choked on her own blood and Dawn awoke to darkness.
It took a few moments for Dawn to get her bearings. She was in her room at Anita's house, in her very own bed, with Sigmund clutched tight in her arms. Everything was just as it should be.
Yet, it wasn't.
Dawn wiggled about in bed, mind lost in her dream about Buffy. She hadn't had that a dream in months, and yet this one had been just the same as the last one she'd had on that day she'd almost been sent to stay at the Walkers', with Buffy staring and choking and bleeding and waking up to darkness.
As her mind fought its way out of the dream, Dawn became aware of a fact that had escaped her upon initial wakening, and the realization made her feel ill with humiliation.
The bed was wet.
Dawn pressed her face against Sigmund's stomach. She was fifteen, not two, and yet at some point in the night, she'd wet the bed. Dawn didn't know if she'd ever been more embarrassed in her entire life. Moreover, she didn't know what to do. A quick peek at the clock told Dawn that Anita and Nathaniel weren't home yet. She could call Micah to come help her, but then he'd know what she'd done and that would be more than she could bear.
Maybe, she'd just wait until everyone went to bed and then sneak down to sleep on the couch and not tell a soul.
But in the meantime, she couldn't stand to lay on wet sheets. Carefully, Dawn crawled out of bed. She supposed she should change her pajamas, but as she stood in the middle of the room, the entire weight of her dream pushed down on her. With a hitched sigh, she made her way over to the wall and slumped down against the carpet. She pulled her knees up to her chest and tried to breathe her way through the tears.
It wasn't fair. She didn't want these dreams about Buffy, especially when the dreams were so horrible. However, the reason for the dreams wasn't that much of a mystery to Dawn, not after Anita had been hurt so bad at work the previous day. Micah had to go get her at the hospital and everything, and Dawn sat at the kitchen table on Anita's lap for an hour while Anita explained over and over that she was okay, that the vampire had only hurt her a little when he'd hit her and her cheekbone was only fractured and the bruising was worse than it looked and she'd get her sense of smell back in a few days, anyway.
Seeing Anita injured was as bad as seeing Buffy bloodied. It made Dawn's tummy ache to see them hurt. That was most likely the root of her nightmare, Dawn reasoned. Anita was hurt and so Dawn dreamed of an injured Buffy. That was all.
None of that explained why Dawn had wet the bed, however.
Downstairs, the front door closed and a low murmur of voices drifted up the stairs. Anita was back from work, talking to Micah, all safe and sound. The tight pressure around Dawn's heart began to ease up.
Anita was home.
Soon footsteps came up the stairs, down the dark hallway, then Anita was pushing open Dawn's half-closed door. Before Anita could freak out about Dawn not being in bed, Dawn quickly called out, "I'm over here, Anita."
Anita made her way across the dark room. "Why aren't you in bed?" Anita asked quietly as she sat on the floor beside Dawn. "It's almost two in the morning."
Dawn sniffled. "I had a bad dream," she said. "And I got woke up."
"Why didn't you call Micah if you couldn't sleep?" Anita asked.
"Because." Dawn hugged her knees tighter. Her pajamas were wet and sticky all the way down to her toes, and a fresh wave of humiliation crashed over her. "I think I kinda wet the bed," she finished in a whisper.
"Oh." Anita touched Dawn's cheek, then her forehead. Dawn looked at Anita in the dark, not able to distinguish much more than the pale lightness of her skin contrasted with her dark shirt. With only the night light from the hall casting the faintest of glows into the room, Dawn could see the bruising on Anita's face. Anita smiled faintly. "It was just an accident, it happens of all of us. Do you feel sick?"
Dawn shook her head. Anita put her arm around Dawn's shoulder and pulled her close.
"Then how about we change the sheets and get you back to bed?"
Dawn squeezed her eyes tight against the threatened flood of tears. She sniffled again and hated being so useless. "What if that's not enough?" Another sniffle, dangerously close to becoming a sob.
Anita pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dawn's head. "Then we'll make up the bed in the guest room and deal with it tomorrow, okay?" Dawn nodded. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to go turn on the light."
Anita stood up with less grace than normal and crossed the room. Feeling suddenly very cold and sticky, Dawn wiped her nose on the back of her hand, an unsanitary habit but the whole night was full of grossness. She sniffled again, wondering why on earth her skin smelled like copper pennies.
The light flared on, and Dawn was blinking at hands covered in blood.
Someone screamed, but all Dawn could think was to stare at the blood. The thick red liquid covered her hands, her arms, her pajamas, all the way down to her toes. The blood path stretched from her feet across the carpet over to the bed, where tiny droplets slid softly off the blankets to a still-growing puddle on the floor.
Hands pulled Dawn roughly to her feet, a voice spoke frantically to her, but all Dawn could think about was the blood.
The blood. Pouring down from lines in Buffy's skin, down her reaching arm, down, down, all around Dawn, holding her down and not letting her move.
"Buffy?" Dawn whispered soundlessly. Her eyes went up and up to the ceiling over her bed. A single drop of blood shattered the white calm of the smooth surface.
"Dawn!" Someone shook her and somewhere, footsteps pounded closer. "What happened? Dawn!"
"Buffy?" Dawn said, eyes never leaving the spot of blood on the ceiling. Buffy had come for her in a dream, only the dream was real, and she had to go! "Buffy, come back!"
Jerking away from the hands holding her in place, Dawn darted to the bed and climbed up, jumping for the ceiling. The blood-soaked sheets made a grotesque squishing sound as Dawn bounced.
"Dawn!" Anita's hysterical voice was the only warning Dawn had before she was plucked off the bed. "What happened? Are you hurt?" In the background, Micah was saying things like ambulance and hurry, but Dawn couldn't think about that right now.
Dawn tried to fight her way out of Anita's grip, but the woman was too strong. "Please, I have to go!" Dawn pleaded. "Buffy came for me and I have to go!" Anita wouldn't let her go and Dawn kept struggling. "Buffy, please come back! Please!" she cried. The ceiling remained as it was, silent and smooth and with only one tiny drop of blood to mark Buffy's presence. "Please! Buffy, come back!"
~~~
One day, Dawn decided, she would grow used to being covered in blood, surrounded by police officers and paramedics at one in the morning, with only Anita to hang on to. This, however, was not that day.
Around them, people spoke and nattered and discussed, but for once Dawn had no interest in what anyone was thinking. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. She was halfway there, curled up into a ball in Anita's lap, but she couldn't make herself cry. All she felt on the inside was numb.
Buffy had come to get her, and Dawn hadn't been able to see the signs until it was too late. And now Buffy was gone.
One of the paramedics wrapped a black band around Dawn's arm and pumped on a little balloon, measuring her blood pressure. Dawn watched the man listlessly. What did her blood pressure matter? It wasn't her blood that covered the room, it was Buffy's. Dawn had explained all of that to Anita, then Micah, then the police officers who came into the house with the paramedics, and not a single person had listened to her with the screaming.
Dawn rubbed her cheek against Anita's chest, trying to burrow closer to the woman. Anita responded by tightening her arm around Dawn's shoulders. "They'll be done in a minute," Anita said, her voice rough around the edges. Dawn didn't respond, only tried to put her bloody thumb in her mouth, but Anita wouldn't let her.
Two people detached themselves from the mob and moved over to the guest room bed where Anita and Dawn sat. Dawn didn't have to glance up to identify Detective Zerbrowski. She'd heard his voice in the hall, talking to Micah, but she really hadn't cared. Not a dot.
The woman with Zerbrowski settled awkwardly onto the bed beside them. She had brown hair and green eyes and reminded Dawn faintly of Willow, and even that remembrance didn't dent the numb fog in Dawn's mind.
Zerbrowski pulled a chair over to the foot of the bed and sat down. "How is she?" he asked.
The paramedic answered. "Her blood pressure is good, her heart rate stable, and there is no sign of bleeding or bruising or physical shock. Still, it would be best if she went to the hospital for monitoring."
"No," Dawn muttered, curling up tighter on Anita's lap. "Don't wanna."
Anita shushed her. "We need to make sure you're all right," she said.
Dawn didn't even bother to dignify that with a response. Of course she wasn't all right! Buffy had somehow opened a portal between Sunnydale and St. Louis to get Dawn back, and it had failed!
Resolutely, Dawn jammed her thumb into her mouth before Anita could stop her.
The paramedic packed up his equipment and left to talk to the uniformed cop in the doorway. Dawn didn't like that cop in the least. He'd shouted at Micah when he and his partner burst into the house, and Dawn didn't have to be a mind reader to know the cop didn't trust Micah. Or, rather, what Micah was.
The woman on the bed shifted, drawing Dawn's attention. It took Dawn a moment to realize that the woman wasn't fat in the tummy, she was pregnant.
The woman noticed Dawn's attention on her belly and smiled tiredly. "Hello, Dawn," she said. "I'm Detective Tammy Reynolds."
The name was familiar, but it took Dawn a few moments to place it. She pulled her thumb from her mouth and grimaced at the taste of stale blood on her tongue. "Are you a witch?"
The corner of Detective Reynolds' eye twitched. "Yes, I am." She didn't look at Anita.
"Oh." Dawn sat more upright in Anita's lap. "I have a friend who's a witch and she has eyes just like yours." Curiosity overwhelmed Dawn's lethargy. "When are you going to have your baby?"
Detective Reynolds laid her hand on her big stomach. "Very soon," she said with a small smile. "She's due next week."
Dawn stared at the bulge under Detective Reynolds's hand, and without thinking, focused on the lump. Quite unlike listening to the thoughts of adults, the little being in Detective Reynolds's belly was thinking in sensations and warm secure darkness.
Dawn let Anita scoop her up into a more secure position. "Did you find anything?" Anita said over Dawn's head.
Zerbrowski sighed. "A lot of blood, some of it still warm."
Dawn tried to ignore them by focusing on the thoughts of the unborn baby, but the words wormed into her brain.
"Micah said that he had only caught a whiff of the blood scent a moment before you started screaming, Blake," Zerbrowski continued. "And he didn't hear a thing in Dawn's room."
"Would he, though?" Detective Reynolds asked.
"He would," Anita said quickly. "When I got home, he told me he'd heard Dawn roll over a few times in bed, but that's all. That's why we leave her door open, in case..." She faltered momentarily. "In case she needs anything, or has a bad dream."
"Why didn't you smell it when you first went into her room?" Zerbrowski asked. His voice was cold and flat when he spoke to Anita. "The blood smell's thick enough to choke on in the hallway."
Dawn stirred in Anita's lap. "Because a vampire hit her in the face with a stick," Dawn said flatly. "And she can't smell anything right now. Why don't you go away? I told you that Buffy came for me and now she's gone, now you can go too."
"Dawn," Anita chided. "Zerbrowski and Tammy are here to help us."
"No, they're not," Dawn muttered, but if Zerbrowski was offended, he made no indication.
"Can you tell us what happened tonight?" Zerbrowski asked.
Dawn remained silent.
Zerbrowski put his elbows on his kneed and looked Dawn square in the eye. "We need to know what happened tonight, Dawn. Every little detail, even things you don't think matter. We need to know."
"Why?" Dawn demanded. "Why do you need to know? What are you going to do?"
"They're here to help us," Anita murmured. She pulled Dawn back into a hug, and Dawn couldn't find the energy to fight it.
"Please," Zerbrowski said.
Dawn picked at Anita's sleeve. The lovely blue silk blouse that Dawn had so admired that afternoon was now smeared with dried blood. Buffy's blood, Dawn thought miserably, as a sliver of anguish pressed through the numbness blanketing her. She sniffled. "I was having a dream," she whispered against Anita's chest. "Buffy was in the ceiling and she was bleeding and she'd come to get me but she couldn't see me because of all the blood."
"Was this all part of your dream?" Zerbrowski asked.
Dawn nodded. "And then I woke up and it was dark and Buffy wasn't here and I thought I wet the bed 'cause everything was wet but I didn't know and I felt bad because of the dream so I climbed out of bed and went to the wall and sat there until Anita came upstairs and turned on the light." She took a breath. "And that's it."
"Why did you go back up on the bed after Anita turned on the lights?" Zerbrowski asked.
"Because Buffy had come to get me," Dawn said, as if it should be obvious. And really, wasn't it? "I fell through a portal into the graveyard from Sunnydale, and that one was made from my blood by-- by Glory." Dawn refused to start screaming at the mention of Glory's name. Glory was gone and couldn't hurt her any more. "And since the monks made me out of Buffy, maybe..." Dawn sat up straight on Anita's lap, almost toppling to the floor before Anita caught her. "Maybe Buffy's blood is like mine! Maybe it can open portals between different worlds!" Dawn turned to look Anita in the eye, willing the woman to understand. "Buffy really did come to find me! Maybe she'll do it again!"
Anita bit at her lip. Dawn knew she was thinking all kinds of things she didn't want to say out loud. "You said that it was a dream," Anita said carefully.
"But it can't be a dream because there was all that blood!" Dawn bounced on Anita's knee. "She'll find a way, she's Buffy!"
Zerbrowski cleared his throat. "Dawn? What you said just now, about the 'monks making you out of Buffy', what did that mean?"
Dawn shrugged. "That's what they said. When the monks made me out of Buffy into Buffy's little sister to protect me from Glory." She looked at Anita again. "I thought I overheard you tell Micah that you told Zerbrowski about that."
"She did," Zerbrowski said before Anita could respond. "But I need to clear a few things up." He hesitated, then said in a delicate voice, "Was Buffy your sister or your mother?"
Dawn didn't know what to think. It was such a stupid question! "She's my sister," Dawn said loudly. "Joyce was my mother and Buffy is my sister and she came to get me tonight! She did!"
Anita wrapped Dawn into another immobilizing embrace. "Dawn, it's okay."
"It's not okay!" Dawn tried to fight her way free, but was unable to move in Anita's arms. "Why don't you believe me? Why don't any of you believe me? It's what happened! It's true!" Another sliver of pain and grief slid into her mind, all the worry about Buffy losing so much blood, of Mom being dead, of being stuck here in St. Louis and not knowing if anyone in Sunnydale was even alive anymore. This sliver expanded until it pushed the numbness away, and Dawn began to shake.
What if Buffy had bled so much that she'd died? What if Buffy had died because of Dawn, and Dawn would never know?
Dawn sniffled, then the tears started, and as much as Dawn tried to hold back, she began to sob. Buffy might had died trying to save Dawn, and that would be all Dawn's fault.
Everything was always Dawn's fault.
The tears continued, but they didn't make anything better. A lead weight of grief settled on Dawn's heart, pressing down. It was her fault that Glory had come to Sunnydale, had hurt Tara and all those people and Buffy and Spike and everyone. And while the doctors said that Mom's brain tumor just happened, maybe it had gotten worse because of the fake Dawn memories shoved her head, and that would make it her fault too.
The more Dawn cried, the worse she felt. So many people had been hurt and had died because of her, and now maybe Buffy was hurt or worse, and that was Dawn's fault.
Finally there were no more tears, and the weight on her heart was the worst thing in the whole universe.
Dimly, Dawn registered that Anita was rocking her back and forth. At least she still had Anita and Micah and Nathaniel, but what if one day they died because of something she did?
Anita wiped Dawn's cheeks with a tissue. "Do you need to blow your nose?" she asked, and it was such a normal thing, like Buffy hadn't opened a portal and bled over Dawn's bed and vanished again. Dawn took the slightly damp tissue and blew her nose loudly, then did it again just because she could.
When she looked up, Dawn realized that Zerbrowski had gone, but Detective Reynolds was still in the room and she was donning plastic gloves. "How about we get you out of those pajamas?" Detective Reynolds suggested.
Dawn thought about refusing, but there probably wasn't much point. She slipped off Anita's lap and stood unsteadily on the carpet. "I want a bath," she said.
Detective Reynolds looked at Anita. Anita saved the woman by saying, "We'll get you into a nightgown and then we can get you to the tub, okay?"
Dawn didn't move. "Are the police going to go away?"
"In a little while," Anita promised. "They're here to make sure that you're okay."
Dawn really didn't believe the woman, but what could she say? She leaned against Anita's knee and lifted her arms. "Fine," she grumbled.
With deft movements, Anita pulled Dawn's pajama top over her head. Instead of putting it on the floor, though, Anita folded the shirt and handed it to Detective Reynolds, who put it in a clear plastic bag.
"Why are you doing that?" Dawn asked, rubbing at a spot of dried blood on her tummy.
Detective Reynolds sealed the bag. "We're going to do some tests on the shirt," she said.
"What kind of tests?"
"Tests to find out who the blood belongs to."
"Oh." Dawn frowned. "I told you, it's Buffy's blood."
"I know," Detective Reynolds said. Before Dawn could argue further, she held out another bag. "How about the bottoms?"
Dawn stepped out of her pajama bottoms, and then repeated the same process with her underwear. And it was her favorite pair, too, with the blue flowers on the side. She held up her arms again, and Anita helped her into a long nightgown, long enough to brush her toes.
Detective Reynolds finished writing on the last bag and set them aside. Dawn leaned against Anita's knee again and stared at the woman. "I'm going to go check out the magical signatures in Dawn's room now," Detective Reynolds said as she struggled to her feet. Her breath came out in a huff, and not for the first time, Dawn thought how weird human reproduction was. Seriously, who thought up having babies grow on the inside?
Anita also stood, which gave Dawn a great excuse to wrap her arms around Anita's leg and hold on for dear life. "Do you or Zerbrowski need anything else from me right now?" Anita asked.
Detective Reynolds shook her head. "Not at the moment. Why don't you get this little girl into the tub and back to sleep?"
"That's a good idea," Anita said, running her hand over Dawn's hair.
Dawn, who had been staring up at Detective Reynolds, or rather her bulging stomach, pushed aside the noise in her head long enough to say, "Thank you for coming out here, Detective Reynolds." There. She remembered how to use her manners at least.
"Call me Tammy," the woman said with a smile only for Dawn, but Dawn knew there was something hidden behind that smile. It was the smile Buffy had used when everything was going to hell, and suddenly Dawn didn't want to be awake any more. She pressed her face to Anita's pant leg. There was such a commotion in her head, that she didn't know what to do.
No, wait. The commotion wasn't in her head at all. The noise was drifting up the stairs, arguing voices. After a moment, Dawn recognized one of the voices as Nathaniel. He'd been at work all night, and she hadn't remembered when he was due home.
Dawn pushed off of Anita's leg and walked out into the hall, past the loitering paramedics, past Zerbrowski, to the head of the stairs.
Nathaniel's voice was laced with absolute panic. "I could smell the blood down the driveway!" he said, trying to push past Micah and the policeman guarding the stairs, but Micah stood between him and the cop, and wouldn't move.
"Dawn's fine," Micah said, but Nathaniel didn't seem to hear him.
"What happened?" Nathaniel demanded, finally letting Micah push him back. The burly policeman didn't move from place on the stairs.
"We're not totally sure," Micah said. As he spoke, Dawn picked up the skirt of her nightgown in one hand and started down the steps. "But Dawn is fine and Anita is fine, and you, Nathaniel, need to calm down."
The last words were in a low growl, making the cop tighten his grip on his baton. Dawn squeezed past the cop and walked right up to Nathaniel and Micah. She tugged on Nathaniel's shirt. When he looked down, his eyes wide, she held up her arms. He scooped Dawn up, uncertainty radiating off him. "What happened?" he asked, looking between Dawn and Micah and Anita on the stairs.
Dawn slumped forward, resting her head on Nathaniel's shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Buffy came to get me and I didn't realize it until too late and now she'd gone and maybe she's dead and it's all my fault."
Nathaniel put his hand on Dawn's back, holding her steady. "Wait, what?"
"It's a long story," Micah said in an undertone. "Anita, I thought you were going to get Dawn into the bath."
"I am," Anita said, coming up to them. "Dawn, come on. We'll use the tub down here."
Dawn held on. "Buffy came for me and I wasn't ready," she said again, the weight on her heart so incredibly heavy.
Nathaniel patted her back, then gently pried her arms loose and handed her to Anita. "Are you sure that this blood isn't hers?" he asked anxiously.
Zerbrowski had appeared in the hallway and he motioned for the big cop to stand back. "We're sure," he said.
"Come on," Anita said in Dawn's ear. "Why don't we get you into the bath?"
Looking over Anita's shoulder as the woman carried her down the hall, Dawn saw Zerbrowski draw Micah and Nathaniel up the stairs.
"Where are they going?" Dawn asked.
Anita closed the bathroom door. "Zerbrowski wants Micah to look at the room, in case anything's missing or moved," Anita said. Without putting Dawn down, Anita sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the water.
"I thought Tammy was going to do that."
"She is," Anita said, testing the water as it poured into the tub. "They're going to help her."
Dawn yawned loudly. "What are they looking for?"
"Anything to help us in finding out what happened," Anita told her.
Dawn rubbed her hands together, watching tiny flakes of dried blood flutter into the water. It was almost fascinating, if she didn't think about how this was Buffy's blood covering her skin.
With a sudden movement, Anita turned Dawn deftly about, worked the nightshirt off her head and set her into the tub while it was still filling. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"
Dawn frowned up at Anita. Something wasn't right. It was something more than just worry. Knowing she probably shouldn't, Dawn tentatively tried to read Anita's mind.
Nothing.
Anita was shielding so tightly that Dawn couldn't get even a hint of Anita's emotions. With a frown, Dawn watched Anita move around the brightly lit bathroom, a colorful whirl of nervous energy. When Anita made her next pass, to put dry towels on the ground by the tub, Dawn said, "I'm sorry."
Anita stopped abruptly. "What are you talking about?"
Dawn shrugged and looked down at her hands. The water in the tub was taking on a faintly rusty tone. "Just 'cause."
Anita knelt by the tub. "Dawn, I'm not angry with you," she said. "We're worried for your safety."
"But Buffy wouldn't have let anything hurt me!" Dawn exclaimed.
Anita took in a deep breath. "What matters is that you're not hurt. That's all."
"Buffy wasn't going to let anything hurt me," Dawn said again. "Do you believe me?"
Anita didn't answer for a very long time, not until the tub was full. Then she said in a very careful voice, "Will you promise me something?"
"What?"
Anita rested her arms on the side of the tub and let her chin rest on one blood-stained sleeve. "If... if your sister comes to you again, will you come and tell one of us? Right away?"
Dawn frowned. "But what if the portal's going to close and I don't have time?"
Anita swallowed hard. "Dawn, we need to know where you are, all the time. Please."
Dawn thought about that for a while. She couldn't give up a chance to go home with Buffy, but she didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to Anita or Micah or Nathaniel. "I'll try," she promised, and didn't understand the expression on Anita's face at all.
"Good," was all Anita said. The woman blinked a few times. "How about we wash your hair now, okay?"
Above them, footsteps sounded up and down the hall, but the bathroom with its warm steam seemed a million miles away from the blood-soaked room upstairs. "Do you think Buffy's okay?" Dawn asked in a tiny voice. "There was a lot of blood."
"I'm sure your sister will be fine," Anita said. Dawn couldn't tell if it was a lie, and she wasn't sure if she cared.
She was so very tired, and her heart ached, and she'd come so close to going home that night, and all she could think was that she had failed Buffy when Buffy had tried so very hard to come get her.
Dawn had failed Buffy, again.
to be continued
Dawning Light
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Anita Blake crossover
Chapter Thirteen: End of the World News
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: 4,860
Spoilers: Danse Macabre only, nothing from subsequent books.
Note: All I can say is, this story is from Dawn's point of view, but the real story in this is the reaction of the adults. I've tried to keep it both true to Dawn and her view of the world, and how I'd react if I was Anita. Man, this story is hard to write.
Previous parts here
~~~~~
Buffy stared down at Dawn, peering through a hole ripped in the ceiling, blood on her lips pouring down her chin. Her mouth moved slowly, but only choking sounds came out. She was looking for Dawn, and Dawn waved her hands and shouted up at Buffy, but Buffy couldn’t see her amongst all the blood.
And oh, the blood. Pouring down from rivers in Buffy's skin, down her arms, down down down, pouring all around Dawn, holding her down and not letting her move.
Dawn tried to scream, to fight her way back to Buffy, but there was so much blood and it burned and Buffy choked on her own blood and Dawn awoke to darkness.
It took a few moments for Dawn to get her bearings. She was in her room at Anita's house, in her very own bed, with Sigmund clutched tight in her arms. Everything was just as it should be.
Yet, it wasn't.
Dawn wiggled about in bed, mind lost in her dream about Buffy. She hadn't had that a dream in months, and yet this one had been just the same as the last one she'd had on that day she'd almost been sent to stay at the Walkers', with Buffy staring and choking and bleeding and waking up to darkness.
As her mind fought its way out of the dream, Dawn became aware of a fact that had escaped her upon initial wakening, and the realization made her feel ill with humiliation.
The bed was wet.
Dawn pressed her face against Sigmund's stomach. She was fifteen, not two, and yet at some point in the night, she'd wet the bed. Dawn didn't know if she'd ever been more embarrassed in her entire life. Moreover, she didn't know what to do. A quick peek at the clock told Dawn that Anita and Nathaniel weren't home yet. She could call Micah to come help her, but then he'd know what she'd done and that would be more than she could bear.
Maybe, she'd just wait until everyone went to bed and then sneak down to sleep on the couch and not tell a soul.
But in the meantime, she couldn't stand to lay on wet sheets. Carefully, Dawn crawled out of bed. She supposed she should change her pajamas, but as she stood in the middle of the room, the entire weight of her dream pushed down on her. With a hitched sigh, she made her way over to the wall and slumped down against the carpet. She pulled her knees up to her chest and tried to breathe her way through the tears.
It wasn't fair. She didn't want these dreams about Buffy, especially when the dreams were so horrible. However, the reason for the dreams wasn't that much of a mystery to Dawn, not after Anita had been hurt so bad at work the previous day. Micah had to go get her at the hospital and everything, and Dawn sat at the kitchen table on Anita's lap for an hour while Anita explained over and over that she was okay, that the vampire had only hurt her a little when he'd hit her and her cheekbone was only fractured and the bruising was worse than it looked and she'd get her sense of smell back in a few days, anyway.
Seeing Anita injured was as bad as seeing Buffy bloodied. It made Dawn's tummy ache to see them hurt. That was most likely the root of her nightmare, Dawn reasoned. Anita was hurt and so Dawn dreamed of an injured Buffy. That was all.
None of that explained why Dawn had wet the bed, however.
Downstairs, the front door closed and a low murmur of voices drifted up the stairs. Anita was back from work, talking to Micah, all safe and sound. The tight pressure around Dawn's heart began to ease up.
Anita was home.
Soon footsteps came up the stairs, down the dark hallway, then Anita was pushing open Dawn's half-closed door. Before Anita could freak out about Dawn not being in bed, Dawn quickly called out, "I'm over here, Anita."
Anita made her way across the dark room. "Why aren't you in bed?" Anita asked quietly as she sat on the floor beside Dawn. "It's almost two in the morning."
Dawn sniffled. "I had a bad dream," she said. "And I got woke up."
"Why didn't you call Micah if you couldn't sleep?" Anita asked.
"Because." Dawn hugged her knees tighter. Her pajamas were wet and sticky all the way down to her toes, and a fresh wave of humiliation crashed over her. "I think I kinda wet the bed," she finished in a whisper.
"Oh." Anita touched Dawn's cheek, then her forehead. Dawn looked at Anita in the dark, not able to distinguish much more than the pale lightness of her skin contrasted with her dark shirt. With only the night light from the hall casting the faintest of glows into the room, Dawn could see the bruising on Anita's face. Anita smiled faintly. "It was just an accident, it happens of all of us. Do you feel sick?"
Dawn shook her head. Anita put her arm around Dawn's shoulder and pulled her close.
"Then how about we change the sheets and get you back to bed?"
Dawn squeezed her eyes tight against the threatened flood of tears. She sniffled again and hated being so useless. "What if that's not enough?" Another sniffle, dangerously close to becoming a sob.
Anita pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dawn's head. "Then we'll make up the bed in the guest room and deal with it tomorrow, okay?" Dawn nodded. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to go turn on the light."
Anita stood up with less grace than normal and crossed the room. Feeling suddenly very cold and sticky, Dawn wiped her nose on the back of her hand, an unsanitary habit but the whole night was full of grossness. She sniffled again, wondering why on earth her skin smelled like copper pennies.
The light flared on, and Dawn was blinking at hands covered in blood.
Someone screamed, but all Dawn could think was to stare at the blood. The thick red liquid covered her hands, her arms, her pajamas, all the way down to her toes. The blood path stretched from her feet across the carpet over to the bed, where tiny droplets slid softly off the blankets to a still-growing puddle on the floor.
Hands pulled Dawn roughly to her feet, a voice spoke frantically to her, but all Dawn could think about was the blood.
The blood. Pouring down from lines in Buffy's skin, down her reaching arm, down, down, all around Dawn, holding her down and not letting her move.
"Buffy?" Dawn whispered soundlessly. Her eyes went up and up to the ceiling over her bed. A single drop of blood shattered the white calm of the smooth surface.
"Dawn!" Someone shook her and somewhere, footsteps pounded closer. "What happened? Dawn!"
"Buffy?" Dawn said, eyes never leaving the spot of blood on the ceiling. Buffy had come for her in a dream, only the dream was real, and she had to go! "Buffy, come back!"
Jerking away from the hands holding her in place, Dawn darted to the bed and climbed up, jumping for the ceiling. The blood-soaked sheets made a grotesque squishing sound as Dawn bounced.
"Dawn!" Anita's hysterical voice was the only warning Dawn had before she was plucked off the bed. "What happened? Are you hurt?" In the background, Micah was saying things like ambulance and hurry, but Dawn couldn't think about that right now.
Dawn tried to fight her way out of Anita's grip, but the woman was too strong. "Please, I have to go!" Dawn pleaded. "Buffy came for me and I have to go!" Anita wouldn't let her go and Dawn kept struggling. "Buffy, please come back! Please!" she cried. The ceiling remained as it was, silent and smooth and with only one tiny drop of blood to mark Buffy's presence. "Please! Buffy, come back!"
~~~
One day, Dawn decided, she would grow used to being covered in blood, surrounded by police officers and paramedics at one in the morning, with only Anita to hang on to. This, however, was not that day.
Around them, people spoke and nattered and discussed, but for once Dawn had no interest in what anyone was thinking. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. She was halfway there, curled up into a ball in Anita's lap, but she couldn't make herself cry. All she felt on the inside was numb.
Buffy had come to get her, and Dawn hadn't been able to see the signs until it was too late. And now Buffy was gone.
One of the paramedics wrapped a black band around Dawn's arm and pumped on a little balloon, measuring her blood pressure. Dawn watched the man listlessly. What did her blood pressure matter? It wasn't her blood that covered the room, it was Buffy's. Dawn had explained all of that to Anita, then Micah, then the police officers who came into the house with the paramedics, and not a single person had listened to her with the screaming.
Dawn rubbed her cheek against Anita's chest, trying to burrow closer to the woman. Anita responded by tightening her arm around Dawn's shoulders. "They'll be done in a minute," Anita said, her voice rough around the edges. Dawn didn't respond, only tried to put her bloody thumb in her mouth, but Anita wouldn't let her.
Two people detached themselves from the mob and moved over to the guest room bed where Anita and Dawn sat. Dawn didn't have to glance up to identify Detective Zerbrowski. She'd heard his voice in the hall, talking to Micah, but she really hadn't cared. Not a dot.
The woman with Zerbrowski settled awkwardly onto the bed beside them. She had brown hair and green eyes and reminded Dawn faintly of Willow, and even that remembrance didn't dent the numb fog in Dawn's mind.
Zerbrowski pulled a chair over to the foot of the bed and sat down. "How is she?" he asked.
The paramedic answered. "Her blood pressure is good, her heart rate stable, and there is no sign of bleeding or bruising or physical shock. Still, it would be best if she went to the hospital for monitoring."
"No," Dawn muttered, curling up tighter on Anita's lap. "Don't wanna."
Anita shushed her. "We need to make sure you're all right," she said.
Dawn didn't even bother to dignify that with a response. Of course she wasn't all right! Buffy had somehow opened a portal between Sunnydale and St. Louis to get Dawn back, and it had failed!
Resolutely, Dawn jammed her thumb into her mouth before Anita could stop her.
The paramedic packed up his equipment and left to talk to the uniformed cop in the doorway. Dawn didn't like that cop in the least. He'd shouted at Micah when he and his partner burst into the house, and Dawn didn't have to be a mind reader to know the cop didn't trust Micah. Or, rather, what Micah was.
The woman on the bed shifted, drawing Dawn's attention. It took Dawn a moment to realize that the woman wasn't fat in the tummy, she was pregnant.
The woman noticed Dawn's attention on her belly and smiled tiredly. "Hello, Dawn," she said. "I'm Detective Tammy Reynolds."
The name was familiar, but it took Dawn a few moments to place it. She pulled her thumb from her mouth and grimaced at the taste of stale blood on her tongue. "Are you a witch?"
The corner of Detective Reynolds' eye twitched. "Yes, I am." She didn't look at Anita.
"Oh." Dawn sat more upright in Anita's lap. "I have a friend who's a witch and she has eyes just like yours." Curiosity overwhelmed Dawn's lethargy. "When are you going to have your baby?"
Detective Reynolds laid her hand on her big stomach. "Very soon," she said with a small smile. "She's due next week."
Dawn stared at the bulge under Detective Reynolds's hand, and without thinking, focused on the lump. Quite unlike listening to the thoughts of adults, the little being in Detective Reynolds's belly was thinking in sensations and warm secure darkness.
Dawn let Anita scoop her up into a more secure position. "Did you find anything?" Anita said over Dawn's head.
Zerbrowski sighed. "A lot of blood, some of it still warm."
Dawn tried to ignore them by focusing on the thoughts of the unborn baby, but the words wormed into her brain.
"Micah said that he had only caught a whiff of the blood scent a moment before you started screaming, Blake," Zerbrowski continued. "And he didn't hear a thing in Dawn's room."
"Would he, though?" Detective Reynolds asked.
"He would," Anita said quickly. "When I got home, he told me he'd heard Dawn roll over a few times in bed, but that's all. That's why we leave her door open, in case..." She faltered momentarily. "In case she needs anything, or has a bad dream."
"Why didn't you smell it when you first went into her room?" Zerbrowski asked. His voice was cold and flat when he spoke to Anita. "The blood smell's thick enough to choke on in the hallway."
Dawn stirred in Anita's lap. "Because a vampire hit her in the face with a stick," Dawn said flatly. "And she can't smell anything right now. Why don't you go away? I told you that Buffy came for me and now she's gone, now you can go too."
"Dawn," Anita chided. "Zerbrowski and Tammy are here to help us."
"No, they're not," Dawn muttered, but if Zerbrowski was offended, he made no indication.
"Can you tell us what happened tonight?" Zerbrowski asked.
Dawn remained silent.
Zerbrowski put his elbows on his kneed and looked Dawn square in the eye. "We need to know what happened tonight, Dawn. Every little detail, even things you don't think matter. We need to know."
"Why?" Dawn demanded. "Why do you need to know? What are you going to do?"
"They're here to help us," Anita murmured. She pulled Dawn back into a hug, and Dawn couldn't find the energy to fight it.
"Please," Zerbrowski said.
Dawn picked at Anita's sleeve. The lovely blue silk blouse that Dawn had so admired that afternoon was now smeared with dried blood. Buffy's blood, Dawn thought miserably, as a sliver of anguish pressed through the numbness blanketing her. She sniffled. "I was having a dream," she whispered against Anita's chest. "Buffy was in the ceiling and she was bleeding and she'd come to get me but she couldn't see me because of all the blood."
"Was this all part of your dream?" Zerbrowski asked.
Dawn nodded. "And then I woke up and it was dark and Buffy wasn't here and I thought I wet the bed 'cause everything was wet but I didn't know and I felt bad because of the dream so I climbed out of bed and went to the wall and sat there until Anita came upstairs and turned on the light." She took a breath. "And that's it."
"Why did you go back up on the bed after Anita turned on the lights?" Zerbrowski asked.
"Because Buffy had come to get me," Dawn said, as if it should be obvious. And really, wasn't it? "I fell through a portal into the graveyard from Sunnydale, and that one was made from my blood by-- by Glory." Dawn refused to start screaming at the mention of Glory's name. Glory was gone and couldn't hurt her any more. "And since the monks made me out of Buffy, maybe..." Dawn sat up straight on Anita's lap, almost toppling to the floor before Anita caught her. "Maybe Buffy's blood is like mine! Maybe it can open portals between different worlds!" Dawn turned to look Anita in the eye, willing the woman to understand. "Buffy really did come to find me! Maybe she'll do it again!"
Anita bit at her lip. Dawn knew she was thinking all kinds of things she didn't want to say out loud. "You said that it was a dream," Anita said carefully.
"But it can't be a dream because there was all that blood!" Dawn bounced on Anita's knee. "She'll find a way, she's Buffy!"
Zerbrowski cleared his throat. "Dawn? What you said just now, about the 'monks making you out of Buffy', what did that mean?"
Dawn shrugged. "That's what they said. When the monks made me out of Buffy into Buffy's little sister to protect me from Glory." She looked at Anita again. "I thought I overheard you tell Micah that you told Zerbrowski about that."
"She did," Zerbrowski said before Anita could respond. "But I need to clear a few things up." He hesitated, then said in a delicate voice, "Was Buffy your sister or your mother?"
Dawn didn't know what to think. It was such a stupid question! "She's my sister," Dawn said loudly. "Joyce was my mother and Buffy is my sister and she came to get me tonight! She did!"
Anita wrapped Dawn into another immobilizing embrace. "Dawn, it's okay."
"It's not okay!" Dawn tried to fight her way free, but was unable to move in Anita's arms. "Why don't you believe me? Why don't any of you believe me? It's what happened! It's true!" Another sliver of pain and grief slid into her mind, all the worry about Buffy losing so much blood, of Mom being dead, of being stuck here in St. Louis and not knowing if anyone in Sunnydale was even alive anymore. This sliver expanded until it pushed the numbness away, and Dawn began to shake.
What if Buffy had bled so much that she'd died? What if Buffy had died because of Dawn, and Dawn would never know?
Dawn sniffled, then the tears started, and as much as Dawn tried to hold back, she began to sob. Buffy might had died trying to save Dawn, and that would be all Dawn's fault.
Everything was always Dawn's fault.
The tears continued, but they didn't make anything better. A lead weight of grief settled on Dawn's heart, pressing down. It was her fault that Glory had come to Sunnydale, had hurt Tara and all those people and Buffy and Spike and everyone. And while the doctors said that Mom's brain tumor just happened, maybe it had gotten worse because of the fake Dawn memories shoved her head, and that would make it her fault too.
The more Dawn cried, the worse she felt. So many people had been hurt and had died because of her, and now maybe Buffy was hurt or worse, and that was Dawn's fault.
Finally there were no more tears, and the weight on her heart was the worst thing in the whole universe.
Dimly, Dawn registered that Anita was rocking her back and forth. At least she still had Anita and Micah and Nathaniel, but what if one day they died because of something she did?
Anita wiped Dawn's cheeks with a tissue. "Do you need to blow your nose?" she asked, and it was such a normal thing, like Buffy hadn't opened a portal and bled over Dawn's bed and vanished again. Dawn took the slightly damp tissue and blew her nose loudly, then did it again just because she could.
When she looked up, Dawn realized that Zerbrowski had gone, but Detective Reynolds was still in the room and she was donning plastic gloves. "How about we get you out of those pajamas?" Detective Reynolds suggested.
Dawn thought about refusing, but there probably wasn't much point. She slipped off Anita's lap and stood unsteadily on the carpet. "I want a bath," she said.
Detective Reynolds looked at Anita. Anita saved the woman by saying, "We'll get you into a nightgown and then we can get you to the tub, okay?"
Dawn didn't move. "Are the police going to go away?"
"In a little while," Anita promised. "They're here to make sure that you're okay."
Dawn really didn't believe the woman, but what could she say? She leaned against Anita's knee and lifted her arms. "Fine," she grumbled.
With deft movements, Anita pulled Dawn's pajama top over her head. Instead of putting it on the floor, though, Anita folded the shirt and handed it to Detective Reynolds, who put it in a clear plastic bag.
"Why are you doing that?" Dawn asked, rubbing at a spot of dried blood on her tummy.
Detective Reynolds sealed the bag. "We're going to do some tests on the shirt," she said.
"What kind of tests?"
"Tests to find out who the blood belongs to."
"Oh." Dawn frowned. "I told you, it's Buffy's blood."
"I know," Detective Reynolds said. Before Dawn could argue further, she held out another bag. "How about the bottoms?"
Dawn stepped out of her pajama bottoms, and then repeated the same process with her underwear. And it was her favorite pair, too, with the blue flowers on the side. She held up her arms again, and Anita helped her into a long nightgown, long enough to brush her toes.
Detective Reynolds finished writing on the last bag and set them aside. Dawn leaned against Anita's knee again and stared at the woman. "I'm going to go check out the magical signatures in Dawn's room now," Detective Reynolds said as she struggled to her feet. Her breath came out in a huff, and not for the first time, Dawn thought how weird human reproduction was. Seriously, who thought up having babies grow on the inside?
Anita also stood, which gave Dawn a great excuse to wrap her arms around Anita's leg and hold on for dear life. "Do you or Zerbrowski need anything else from me right now?" Anita asked.
Detective Reynolds shook her head. "Not at the moment. Why don't you get this little girl into the tub and back to sleep?"
"That's a good idea," Anita said, running her hand over Dawn's hair.
Dawn, who had been staring up at Detective Reynolds, or rather her bulging stomach, pushed aside the noise in her head long enough to say, "Thank you for coming out here, Detective Reynolds." There. She remembered how to use her manners at least.
"Call me Tammy," the woman said with a smile only for Dawn, but Dawn knew there was something hidden behind that smile. It was the smile Buffy had used when everything was going to hell, and suddenly Dawn didn't want to be awake any more. She pressed her face to Anita's pant leg. There was such a commotion in her head, that she didn't know what to do.
No, wait. The commotion wasn't in her head at all. The noise was drifting up the stairs, arguing voices. After a moment, Dawn recognized one of the voices as Nathaniel. He'd been at work all night, and she hadn't remembered when he was due home.
Dawn pushed off of Anita's leg and walked out into the hall, past the loitering paramedics, past Zerbrowski, to the head of the stairs.
Nathaniel's voice was laced with absolute panic. "I could smell the blood down the driveway!" he said, trying to push past Micah and the policeman guarding the stairs, but Micah stood between him and the cop, and wouldn't move.
"Dawn's fine," Micah said, but Nathaniel didn't seem to hear him.
"What happened?" Nathaniel demanded, finally letting Micah push him back. The burly policeman didn't move from place on the stairs.
"We're not totally sure," Micah said. As he spoke, Dawn picked up the skirt of her nightgown in one hand and started down the steps. "But Dawn is fine and Anita is fine, and you, Nathaniel, need to calm down."
The last words were in a low growl, making the cop tighten his grip on his baton. Dawn squeezed past the cop and walked right up to Nathaniel and Micah. She tugged on Nathaniel's shirt. When he looked down, his eyes wide, she held up her arms. He scooped Dawn up, uncertainty radiating off him. "What happened?" he asked, looking between Dawn and Micah and Anita on the stairs.
Dawn slumped forward, resting her head on Nathaniel's shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Buffy came to get me and I didn't realize it until too late and now she'd gone and maybe she's dead and it's all my fault."
Nathaniel put his hand on Dawn's back, holding her steady. "Wait, what?"
"It's a long story," Micah said in an undertone. "Anita, I thought you were going to get Dawn into the bath."
"I am," Anita said, coming up to them. "Dawn, come on. We'll use the tub down here."
Dawn held on. "Buffy came for me and I wasn't ready," she said again, the weight on her heart so incredibly heavy.
Nathaniel patted her back, then gently pried her arms loose and handed her to Anita. "Are you sure that this blood isn't hers?" he asked anxiously.
Zerbrowski had appeared in the hallway and he motioned for the big cop to stand back. "We're sure," he said.
"Come on," Anita said in Dawn's ear. "Why don't we get you into the bath?"
Looking over Anita's shoulder as the woman carried her down the hall, Dawn saw Zerbrowski draw Micah and Nathaniel up the stairs.
"Where are they going?" Dawn asked.
Anita closed the bathroom door. "Zerbrowski wants Micah to look at the room, in case anything's missing or moved," Anita said. Without putting Dawn down, Anita sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the water.
"I thought Tammy was going to do that."
"She is," Anita said, testing the water as it poured into the tub. "They're going to help her."
Dawn yawned loudly. "What are they looking for?"
"Anything to help us in finding out what happened," Anita told her.
Dawn rubbed her hands together, watching tiny flakes of dried blood flutter into the water. It was almost fascinating, if she didn't think about how this was Buffy's blood covering her skin.
With a sudden movement, Anita turned Dawn deftly about, worked the nightshirt off her head and set her into the tub while it was still filling. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"
Dawn frowned up at Anita. Something wasn't right. It was something more than just worry. Knowing she probably shouldn't, Dawn tentatively tried to read Anita's mind.
Nothing.
Anita was shielding so tightly that Dawn couldn't get even a hint of Anita's emotions. With a frown, Dawn watched Anita move around the brightly lit bathroom, a colorful whirl of nervous energy. When Anita made her next pass, to put dry towels on the ground by the tub, Dawn said, "I'm sorry."
Anita stopped abruptly. "What are you talking about?"
Dawn shrugged and looked down at her hands. The water in the tub was taking on a faintly rusty tone. "Just 'cause."
Anita knelt by the tub. "Dawn, I'm not angry with you," she said. "We're worried for your safety."
"But Buffy wouldn't have let anything hurt me!" Dawn exclaimed.
Anita took in a deep breath. "What matters is that you're not hurt. That's all."
"Buffy wasn't going to let anything hurt me," Dawn said again. "Do you believe me?"
Anita didn't answer for a very long time, not until the tub was full. Then she said in a very careful voice, "Will you promise me something?"
"What?"
Anita rested her arms on the side of the tub and let her chin rest on one blood-stained sleeve. "If... if your sister comes to you again, will you come and tell one of us? Right away?"
Dawn frowned. "But what if the portal's going to close and I don't have time?"
Anita swallowed hard. "Dawn, we need to know where you are, all the time. Please."
Dawn thought about that for a while. She couldn't give up a chance to go home with Buffy, but she didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to Anita or Micah or Nathaniel. "I'll try," she promised, and didn't understand the expression on Anita's face at all.
"Good," was all Anita said. The woman blinked a few times. "How about we wash your hair now, okay?"
Above them, footsteps sounded up and down the hall, but the bathroom with its warm steam seemed a million miles away from the blood-soaked room upstairs. "Do you think Buffy's okay?" Dawn asked in a tiny voice. "There was a lot of blood."
"I'm sure your sister will be fine," Anita said. Dawn couldn't tell if it was a lie, and she wasn't sure if she cared.
She was so very tired, and her heart ached, and she'd come so close to going home that night, and all she could think was that she had failed Buffy when Buffy had tried so very hard to come get her.
Dawn had failed Buffy, again.
to be continued