FIC: Dawning Light 5: Screams in the Night (Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Anita Blake)

[mhalachaiswords]

Dawning Light
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Anita Blake crossover
Chapter Five: Screams in the Night
by mhalachaiswords

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.
Rating: PG
Words: 11,241
Spoilers: So post-Danse Macabre it hurts.
Note: A response to the Mommy Anita challenge on TTH. Ooh, look! Plot movement! And a million words.

Parts One ~~ Two ~~ Three ~~ Four

~~~~~

Screaming.

Screaming and pain and terror and under it all, ripping metal, sharp and hard and hot hot HOT!

The light switched on in Dawn's room, but she couldn't stop screaming, couldn't stop the fear and the anger from taking over.

Distantly, she knew someone had picked her up, was talking to her, but all Dawn could do was scream.

Time lost all meaning as the foreign emotions poured over her. Hard metal cut at her flesh and broke her bones, fire burned her skin, and everything was fear and pain.

Finally, something snapped to ease the pain slightly. Then something else snapped, then another, like balloons popping in a fire. The pain retreated, but the fear remained.

Dawn's screaming caught in her throat, and she sucked in a ragged breath before the frantic sobbing began.

Warm arms held Dawn safe, a voice murmuring gentle words of safety and of sleep. Dawn could only lie limp and cry. Something was gone, irretrievably broken, and she didn't know what it was, only that she'd never be able to put the pieces back together again.

Finally, the warm voice and the fear swallowed Dawn up into sleep.

~~~

The warm smell of coffee pulled Dawn awake. She opened her eyes wide and looked around. Instead of being in her bed in Anita's house, where she'd gone to sleep the previous night, she lay sprawled on the big white couch in the living room, her head cushioned on Anita's leg. Anita was still asleep on the couch cushions. Dawn turned her head and saw Nathaniel curled up on the floor, covered with a thin blanket.

Dawn only had a moment to wonder where Micah was when she heard a soft muffled voice drifting in from the kitchen.

It was all so normal that Dawn could almost believe the horrible thing the night before had been a dream. Except that her throat hurt from screaming, and she could still feel the hot steel breaking every bone in her body. Thinking about what had happened made her stomach clench painfully. She pushed those thoughts away.

Without waking Anita, Dawn slipped off the couch and wandered across the living room, rubbing her eyes. She passed through the kitchen door when the floor tilted slightly and pushed her into a wall.

Micah caught Dawn before she fell. "What's wrong?"

Dawn glared at the wall. "It got in my way."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Micah asked. Dawn shook her head. "Good."

Dawn shrugged, dropping her eyes to her hands. Sometime in the night, she'd lost the bandages on her wrists. The angry red welts on her skin showed stark against her pale skin and the bright yellow of her pajamas. Something about the red marks made her stomach twist even tighter.

Micah picked Dawn up and carried her over to the table. She didn't object to being carried, although it still felt strange. Strange, but safe. Had Hank ever done this with her? Dawn couldn't remember, but then her fake memories of Hank Summers had always been very hazy.

Micah sat Dawn in a kitchen chair. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Dawn tucked her knees under her chin. "I don't know."

"I need you to think about it," Micah said, gentle but insistent. His eyes were almost yellow in the kitchen lights, and Dawn could only meet his alien gaze for a few seconds.

"I, um... My wrists are fine." Dawn swallowed. "But my throat hurts." Another pause. "And I'm cold."

Micah smiled. "We can fix that." He stood up and grabbed a blanket off a nearby chair. Dawn let him wrap the cotton around her, tucking it tight under her toes. "How's that?"

Dawn burrowed into the blanket. "Better."

Micah brought Dawn a glass of water. "Try to drink some of this for your throat."

Dawn snaked an arm out of the blanket and picked up the small glass. The water was nice and cold, and it soothed her ragged throat on the way down. After finishing half the glass, Dawn set it down on the table and pulled her arm back under the blanket. "Can I have some coffee?"

Micah raised his eyebrows. "Were you allowed to drink coffee at home?" he asked, sipping from his mug.

"Uh huh." Dawn faltered under his questioning gaze. "Okay, not often. Only as a treat."

"A treat?" Micah said. "I think we could all use a treat today."

"Why today?" Dawn asked.

Micah pause before taking the milk out of the fridge. "It's going to be busy," he said. "And you've had a rough few days."

Dawn didn't disagree. While Micah heated a mug of milk, Dawn fiddled with the edge of the blanket. She liked it when things were like this, quiet and half-asleep, no evil and no danger. She wondered when Micah had gotten dressed. Anita and Nathaniel were still in their pajamas, but Micah wore khaki pants and a button-up shirt, with his hair back in a ponytail. Dawn wished her hair was tied back, instead of flying all over the place.

"Do you like chocolate?" Micah asked, bringing Dawn out of her daze.

"Of course!" Dawn said. "I like all kinds of chocolate."

"That's what Nathaniel said." Micah stirred chocolate syrup into the warm milk, then reached for the coffee pot. He poured a tiny amount of coffee into Dawn's mug, then set the pot down and brought the drink over to the table. "He told us all about your shopping trip."

Dawn scooted closer to the table to take a cautionary sip. It was really good. "Did he tell you about how the lady at the coffee shop thought he was my dad?"

"He did," Micah said with a ghost of a smile. "He said that it didn't bother you."

Dawn shrugged. After taking another sip of her drink, she licked her lips and said, "Hank left Mom like, five years ago. He hardly ever came around after we moved to Sunnydale. Once, he got Buffy tickets to the Ice Capades, and they were going to go, and then he totally didn't show up. Mom was so mad."

"It sounds like you never really knew him," Micah said as he sat down.

"Yeah." Dawn picked at a scratch on the wooden table, before she realized that she probably shouldn't wreck Anita's furniture. She pulled her hand back into her lap. "Sometimes it feels like I never even met him." She bit her lip. "Willow said I look a lot like Mom, and I like it better that way."

"Who's Willow?"

Dawn hesitated. It was fine if she talked about Willow and Tara and everyone; they were in a different dimension and they wouldn't mind. It wasn't any different from telling them about Buffy and Mom. "Willow's a friend of Buffy. They were in high school and then they were roommates in college. Willow's totally smart and she taught me to play chess and she always helped me with my geometry because she's so smart."

Micah frowned slightly. "Your geometry?" he repeated.

Dawn snapped her mouth shut. She was doing it again! Going off about teenage stuff, talking about things she shouldn't know.

"It's okay, Dawn," Micah said. He pulled his chair around the table until he was beside Dawn. "It's perfectly fine to be smart, and it's all right to be you. You can be yourself, it's safe here."

Dawn knew he was just trying to help, but it didn't make her feel any better. If she told everyone that she was fifteen, and that she was a mystical ball of energy, and she kept hearing impossible things, they'd lock her away wherever they put the crazy people in this world. "I guess."

Micah sighed. "Dawn, about what happened last night--"

He was interrupted by something rapping against the glass door on the far side of the kitchen.

Dawn let out a shriek and half-jumped, half-fell off her chair. Her mug tipped over and dumped warm milk all over the kitchen table.

"Dawn, it's okay!" Micah was on his feet, and Dawn found herself hiding behind him. She didn't know why she was so terrified, but at that moment, she needed something between her and whatever had knocked on the glass. "It's fine, you're okay."

Dawn peeked out from behind Micah. Someone was at the back door. He was tall and imposing and sort of scary-looking, but frankly, Dawn had seen worse. Heck, Spike was scarier than the man at the backdoor. Dawn didn't understand why she was so terrified. "Who is it?"

"That's Merle," Micah said. He picked Dawn up, and if she wrapped her arms around his neck a little too tight, he didn't complain. "I asked him to come over, he's a friend of mine."

Dawn held onto Micah, staring at Merle through the glass as her heart rate slowed. On second examination, Merle didn't seem quite so bad. He looked like a biker, but not a scary one.

"Would it be okay if I let him in?" Micah asked after a few moments. Dawn nodded wordlessly. She held on tight as Micah crossed the kitchen to open the door.

The tall man entered in a flurry of cold air. He stamped his feet on the mat as Micah closed the door. "Micah," he said in greeting.

"Merle." The two men shared a glance. "This is Dawn." Micah twisted his head to look down at Dawn. "Dawn, would you like to meet Merle?"

Dawn made herself uncurl and sat up as straight as she could on Micah's arm. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Merle." He had to be a mister, right? He was so distinguished and forbidding and stuff.

Merle nodded his head at Dawn. "It's not 'mister', just Merle. If I can call you Dawn."

"Okay," Dawn said, feeling inexplicably shy. "Why did Micah said Nathaniel could call you if he had any trouble with me yesterday when everyone else had to leave?"

"He said that?" Merle glanced at Micah. "Well, it might be because I have some kids of my own."

"Are they around here?" Dawn asked, perking up at the thought of talking to someone younger than twenty. "Can I meet them?"

Merle shook his head. "They're all grown up now." He seemed sad when he spoke of his children. An idea drifted past Dawn, that two were in college and one had been a waitress, but Merle hadn't spoken to them in years, since before--

A dark image flashed across Dawn's mind. Quickly, she pressed her face against Micah's neck and clung tight.

Micah put his hand on Dawn's back, humming a wordless tune in her ear. It was like a cat's purr, only octaves deeper. The sound banished the evil image to the back of Dawn's head. Whatever it was, it was in the past and couldn't hurt her.

"Is this why you called me to bring over a paper?" Merle asked softly.

"Yes." Micah hesitated. "Why do you sound surprised?"

Dawn lifted her head, sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve, to see Merle hand Micah a newspaper. "I thought you called me about Anita, after what happened last night."

"What happened?" Micah demanded.

Merle unfolded the paper and laid it on the kitchen island. Micah moved around so he could see the front page, and Dawn was in the perfect position to see the top story.

Train Derailment Kills 87

Dawn's jaw dropped open. Her eyes flew past the first few paragraphs, skimming over numbers and injuries, to get to the next big paragraph heading.

The derailment on the Texas Eagle line occurred at 3:12 a.m. Investigators do not yet know why over five minutes elapsed before the central rail house learned of the accident. A spokesman for the St. Louis Fire Department said that with the heat of the blaze and severity of the impact, it is unlikely that a faster response would have saved lives.

Writing covered the whole page, but Dawn couldn't read any more. She squirmed hard in Micah's grip, twisting until Micah let go. She hit the ground with a thud, bare feet scrabbling on the kitchen floor. Ignoring Micah's questioning voice, Dawn ran out of the kitchen, through the living room and to the stairs.

"Dawn?" Anita called, but Dawn didn't stop, not until she was in her room. She clambered over her bed and squeezed into the space between the bed and the wall.

This isn't happening, this isn't real, Dawn thought frantically, curling up into a ball. I didn't feel eighty-seven people die, this isn't happening!

All Dawn could think about was how scared she was-- no, how scared they had been. Scared, in pain, burning, and knowing no one was coming to save them.

Was I supposed to save them? Was this like a test about saving people and I failed and all those people are dead? Because of me?

Dawn squeezed back her tears, back into the growing ache in her chest. If this was really her fault, then she had no right to cry.

Buffy would have saved those people, just like she saved almost everyone at Graduation Day, or when she and Xander saved the day with the bazooka in the mall. Buffy always saved things, while Dawn tore things apart. Mom didn't get sick until after the monks made Dawn. Tara had been hurt because of Dawn. Spike and Buffy had both fallen off the Tower in trying to save Dawn.

It was all her fault.

"Dawn?" The bed moved away from the wall. "Dawn, are you okay?"

Dawn lifted her head to glare at Anita. "Do I look okay?" she demanded. She hugged her legs up to her chest. Her planned angry words faltered as she looked at Anita. The woman's hair was a mess, and even though she'd had some sleep, there were dark circles under her eyes and she looked exhausted. "Are you okay?" Dawn said in a much smaller voice.

Anita squeezed closer to Dawn behind the bed. "I'm not the one you need to worry about," Anita said. "Micah said you saw the newspaper?"

Dawn nodded. "Are they sure nothing could have saved those people?"

Anita gave her a funny look. "Dawn, this isn't your fault."

Dawn pressed her forehead against her knees and didn't answer.

Anita muttered something under her breath. "Dawn, what happened last night?"

The door squeaked . Dawn didn't know how, but she just knew without looking up that Micah and Nathaniel had come into the room.

The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place. Dawn clutched at her pajamas, not wanting to believe.

"Dawn, Nathaniel told us about what happened yesterday," Anita continued softly. "He said that you seemed to know things... well, things that you couldn't know. As if you hear things that the rest of us can't hear."

Too scared to move, Dawn tried to breathe normally, but she couldn't get enough air.

"Anita, she's terrified," Nathaniel interrupted.

"Dawn?" Anita's hand settled on Dawn's shoulder. "Dawn, you don't have to be afraid. You're safe here, remember? I told you we'd keep you safe."

Anita lifted Dawn onto the bed, rubbing Dawn's back. Dawn took big gulping breaths, transferring her death-hold to Anita's t-shirt. If she closed her eyes and ignored all of her senses, she could almost imagine that it was Mom holding her, promising to keep her safe.

But Mom was dead, and she couldn't help Dawn anymore.

Dawn rubbed impatiently at her teary eyes. Mom wouldn't want Dawn to be a big cry baby.

"You don't have to be afraid," Anita said after a few minutes. "You can tell us anything you want."

Dawn peeked around Anita's shoulder. Micah and Nathaniel were standing in the doorway. Far from being angry at Dawn, they looked concerned.

Suddenly conscious that Micah and Nathaniel had seen her acting like a five-year-old, Dawn rubbed at her eyes and sat up. She might look like a baby, but she didn't have to act like one. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Anita pushed a strand of hair back from Dawn's cheek. "There's a lot going on."

Dawn nodded. "Okay." She bit her lip, trying to think of something to say that they'd believe. "I don't... I don't know what's happening."

The room fell silent while Dawn tried to think of something, anything, to explain what was going on. Anita pulled her legs up onto the bed. "Can I tell you a story?" she said into the quiet. Dawn nodded. "When I was eight, my Aunt Katherine died."

That was certainly not what Dawn expected to hear. She frowned slightly as she moved closer to Anita.

"And after she died, at the funeral, I could see..." Anita looked down at her hands, as nervous as Dawn had ever seen her. "I saw her soul, hovering over the casket at the funeral."

"You can see souls?" Dawn asked, eyes huge. "What do they look like?"

Something eased in Anita's expression. "I don't really see it, I just know it's there. I know where it is, and my brain tries to fill in the details."

"That's neat." Dawn nudged closer, pressing up against Anita's side. Anita put her arm around Dawn's back. "How can you do that?"

Anita took a minute before answering. "It has something to do with my affinity for the dead." She shook her head. "I mean--"

"I know what it means," Dawn said quickly. "Is this how you made the zombie? In the graveyard?"

"Yes, it is." Anita glanced over at Nathaniel and Micah, then focused back on Dawn. "It started when I was thirteen. My dog Jenny died, and we buried her in the backyard. Then, one night..." Anita took a deep breath. "One night I woke up and she was in bed with me, watching me."

Dawn wrinkled her nose. "Was it all gross?"

"Gross?" Anita appeared startled by the question. She sat up a little straighter. "No, she wasn't rotting. She was like all my other zombies, with empty eyes and--"

"Anita, I don't think Dawn needs to hear these details," Micah interrupted.

"Are there details?" Dawn almost bounced on the bed. "I want to hear details."

"Maybe later," Anita offered. "The reason I told you this, Dawn, is because..." She took a deep breath and tried again. "I know what it's like to be different, to have things happen to you that don't make any sense, that no one else can explain. You can tell us anything you want, about what you think is happening to you."

Dawn cuddled up to Anita while she thought hard. It sounded like Anita had strange powers too, and she didn't seem too weird or living on the fringes of society. And she'd sworn to protect Dawn. That had to mean something.

Picking at the seam on Anita's shirt, Dawn came to a decision. "I think... I think I'm hearing things I shouldn't." When no one said anything, Dawn continued. "It didn't happen before, and I'm not sure I know what's going on."

"What do you mean, it didn't happen before?" Anita asked. "Before what?"

Dawn craned her neck back and looked up at Anita. "Before the graveyard."

"Oh."

"And I don't even know what's happening, which is so dumb," Dawn said. "I could hear that stupid cop saying back things about you when no one else could in the hospital, and I heard you and Detective Zerbrowski talking way down the hall, but I wasn't hearing it here--" She pulled at her ear. "I was hearing it here." Dawn pointed at her chest. Then she slumped back against Anita. "And I keep having feelings that aren't my feelings, and I knew what Nathaniel was thinking in the store yesterday."

"That's a lot to have happen," Anita said. She didn't sound angry, and Dawn relaxed a little. "Is that all?"

"There's more," Nathaniel said, drawing their attention. "When you contacted me through the marks yesterday, Anita, Dawn heard you."

"In the coffee shop?" Dawn frowned. "You sounded mad."

"I wasn't mad," Anita protested. "I was trying to figure out why no one was answering the phone at home."

Dawn tugged at Anita's shirt. "I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to what?"

"Listen in." Dawn knew she wasn't supposed to eavesdrop, but was it really her fault that Anita had been so loud? Still, Buffy used to get so mad when Dawn listened in. Better clear this up with Anita now.

"Oh, Dawn, I know." Anita stretched out her legs across the bed. It looked more comfortable than being all curled up in a ball, so Dawn echoed the movement. The corner of Anita's mouth twitched, but then she sobered. "Dawn, about last night..."

Dawn looked at her feet. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Dawn--"

"When was it?" Dawn interrupted. She stared as hard as she could at her feet, because if she looked anywhere else, she might fall apart. The feelings of the previous night bubbled up in her, all the fear and pain and anger. It couldn't be her fault. She didn't make that train crash. "When did I start screaming?"

"About quarter after three, this morning," Nathaniel said. Out of the corner of her eye, Dawn saw him kneel on the carpet beside the bed. "Why do you want to know?"

The newspaper said the train derailed at 3:12 a.m. If Dawn hadn't started screaming until after that, then it wasn't her fault. It wasn't a test to make her save everyone. She didn't kill those people.

She just felt them die.

"What happened last night?" Anita asked her after a minute. "Can you talk about it?"

Dawn didn't want to tell anyone, ever, about what she'd felt. If that was what it was like to die, Dawn would have given anything to carve out that piece of her memory. "I think I felt it happen." She looked up warily, not sure what reaction her words would receive. "How come that happened? I don't know them and they were far away, right?"

"The site of the accident is only five miles from here," Micah said.

"Oh." Dawn shuffled forward on the bed, until her legs hung off the side. Her feet were still cold.

"Did it scare you?" Nathaniel winced after the words came out of his mouth.

"Yes," Dawn said, feeling a little angry and knowing that the emotion was entirely hers. "And it's stupid and I want it to stop!"

"It might not be that easy," Anita said.

"Make it easy!" Dawn demanded. She slipped off the bed and stood in the middle of the room. She wanted to kick something, break something into little pieces. Was this how Buffy felt when she was fighting vampires, this anger? Dawn stomped over to the window. "I want to go back to the way it was before!"

She wanted to be fifteen again, at home in Sunnydale with Buffy. She wanted Mom alive, and Tara sane, and Buffy happy.

Maybe if Dawn had never been made, all that would have happened.

Anita pulled back the curtain, bathing the room in the bright morning sunlight. "I can't make things the way they used to be," she said, kneeling beside Dawn. "But I can promise you this. We'll do everything we can to help you."

Dawn ran her fingers over the windowsill before looking up at Anita. "Why didn't you feel it?"

Anita frowned. "Feel what?"

"Feel the dead people on the train. Did you?"

Shaking her head, Anita tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't feel them last night. I deal with the dead, Dawn, not the dying."

Dawn stared out at the snowy front yard. She wanted to tell Anita how scared the people on the train were, how much it hurt, how fast it happened... but the memories didn't want to come out into words.

"Who's that?" Dawn asked, spotting movement in the front yard. She pointed at the woman coming up the walk.

"I don't know," Anita said. "I've never seen her before."

Nathaniel hurried over. "It's got to be the social worker," he said, voice rising in nervousness. "Why is she here now? I didn't have time to clean the house, and downstairs--"

"Nathaniel, stop," Micah ordered as the doorbell rang.

"But we're not even dressed!"

"We'll be fine," Micah said firmly. He took hold of the younger man's arm and guided him to the door. "Go downstairs and get dressed. I'll answer the door. Anita, can you get Dawn dressed?"

"Yes, but--"

"Good." He gave Anita a look that Dawn couldn't understand, then pulled Nathaniel into the hall.

Dawn and Anita exchanged glances. "Is this bad?" Dawn asked.

"No, not bad," Anita said, although she sounded rather doubtful. "We'll make it work. Come on, what are you going to wear today?"

"I dunno." Dawn sat on the bed while Anita went to the closet. "Why was Nathaniel going to clean the house? Isn't it already clean?"

"I have no idea." Anita removed a couple of hangers from the railing. "Here, put these on."

Dawn glared at the tan denim jumper and the blue turtleneck. "Those are little kid clothes!"

Anita pulled a pair of tights out of the drawer and tossed them on the bed. "What's wrong with them? You tried them on in the store and liked them."

"Yeah, but they're so--" Dawn struggled to find the right words to express her horror. "They're so cute!"

Anita sighed. "Dawn, there's a social worker downstairs, a mess in the kitchen and I'm not even dressed. Can you please not do this?"

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest. "Do what?"

Anita opened her mouth, then snapped it shut quickly. She crossed the room and knelt in front of Dawn. "Look, I know you've been through a lot. We all have, in the last couple of days." She had a pleading look on her face. "Can we please work together on this right now? We can talk about the clothes after the social worker leaves, okay?"

Dawn looked over at the clothes. They still looked like little girl clothes. "Okay," she said in a small voice.

"Dawn, I'm not--" Anita shook her head. "Sometimes you act so mature, I forget you're so little."

Dawn concentrated on pulling on the tights. Anita wasn't going to believe that Dawn was really fifteen. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." Anita helped Dawn into the turtleneck, then into the jumper. "I've never really dealt much with children."

"You're doing a good job," Dawn said, turning around so Anita could do up her buttons. "You all are." She paused. "Even if no one will let me drink coffee."

Anita pulled Dawn's hair back into a ponytail. "Little girls don't need coffee."

"But coffee is an anti-oxidant," Dawn said with a straight face. "It's healthy."

Anita turned Dawn around. "You're too young to need antioxidants, and you are far too young to drink coffee" Anita pointed out. "Okay, you look presentable." Dawn made a face. "Stop it."

Dawn straightened her shoulders. "Are you ready?"

Anita raised an eyebrow. "Do I look ready?"

"Nope." Dawn smoothed down the denim of the skirt. "But you have an excuse."

"What's that?"

"I'm a total freak?"

Dawn said it in a light-hearted way. She wasn't expecting Anita to get so angry, so fast. "Dawn, you are not a freak," Anita said. She took hold of Dawn's hands and gave them a tiny squeeze. "You're a little girl with very special abilities. You are in no way a freak."

Dawn didn't know how to respond. She didn't want to be a freak, but everything she did, everything that happened to her, seemed to say otherwise.

Anita stood up. "Come on, let's go downstairs," she said with all the enthusiasm of someone facing the firing squad.

Dawn felt the same way, and most of those feelings were her own.

~~~

The social worker was sitting with Nathaniel and Micah in the living room when Dawn and Anita came down the stairs. Dawn wanted to act all mature, but she found she was gripping Anita's hand as tight she could.

"Hello, Dawn," the strange woman said. "I'm Miss Wendell."

Anita took another step forward, but Dawn stopped in her tracks, which put the woman between Dawn and the social worker. Dawn knew her manners, knew she should say hello, but she couldn't speak. This was the person who might take Dawn away from Anita and Micah and Nathaniel. Even though Dawn had only known them for a day, they were the only thing she knew in this unfamiliar world.

"Dawn?" Anita put her hand on Dawn's shoulder. "You okay?"

Dawn took a deep breath. With a nod, she let go of Anita's hand and walked across the living room to the couch where Nathaniel and Micah sat. Micah helped her climb onto the cushions between the two men.

Dawn didn't really want to say anything, but Joyce Summers had raised her better than that. "Hello, Miss Wendell."

"I'm going to change," Anita said after she gave Micah a look.

"We'll wait for you to come back," Miss Wendell said, ducking her head to the papers on top of the briefcase on her lap.

Anita turned on her heel and vanished down the hall.

The house grew quiet in Anita's absence. Dawn kicked her feet, encased in brand new cream-colored tights, and watched Miss Wendell. The social worker didn't look any older than Anita or Micah, and it made Dawn wonder. She wasn't scared of Anita or Micah, so why was she scared of this social worker? Anita said she'd protect Dawn, and that probably included not letting Dawn be taken away.

With that realization under her metaphorical belt, Dawn felt a little better. She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder, wishing she'd had time to brush her hair.

Miss Wendell shuffled some of the papers on her lap, flicking little glances up at Dawn. Dawn pushed down the urge to tell the woman to take a picture, it'd last longer. It was probably a bad idea to lip off to a social worker. Probably like a teacher.

Growing bored, Dawn leaned over and tugged on Micah's sleeve. She waited until he bent down. "Where is Merle?" Dawn whispered.

"He went home," Micah whispered back.

"Oh." Dawn sat back on the couch.

Finally, Anita hurried back into the room. She was in jeans and a sweater, and her socks didn't match. "Did I miss anything?" Anita asked, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the couch next to Micah.

"Not at all, Miss Blake." Miss Wendell shuffled some more papers, and totally missed Anita's glare. Micah squeezed Anita's knee in warning. "As I was telling Mr. Callahan and Mr. Graison before, we've run into a little problem with finding Dawn a place in foster care."

Dawn went very still. Please, I want to stay here! she prayed.

"What's the end result?" Micah asked calmly, slipping his hand casually off Anita's knee.

Miss Wendell pulled out one paper and place it on top of the stack. "The end result is, we have nowhere to put Dawn."

"She can stay here," Nathaniel said, speaking for the first time.

"I'm not sure this is the right environment for a young child," Miss Wendell said.

"What exactly does that mean?" Anita demanded.

Miss Wendell was gripping her briefcase so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. "I've spoken with Detective Zerbrowski," she said carefully. "He told me that neither of you... I mean the three of you, have children, or have ever been the primary caregiver to a child, let alone one who has been through traumatic circumstances."

"No one else wants her, so why can't we keep her?" Nathaniel asked.

"There are protocols and regulations that need to be met," Miss Wendell insisted. A chill broke over Dawn, worries and anxiety in the pit of her stomach, cold and sour like failure.

It's not me, it's not me! Dawn told herself. It had to be someone in the room. The feeling wasn't like anyone she knew, which left...

Why is Miss Wendell so worried?

"Why can't we be registered as emergency care?" Nathaniel asked. "Don't you have that in your forms somewhere?"

"What's emergency care?" Dawn asked, turning to Nathaniel.

"It's a kind of foster care that can fill as a stop-gap measure when there's nowhere else for an at-risk child to go," Nathaniel said softly.

"That's a good idea," Dawn declared. She turned to Miss Wendell. "We'll do that."

The social worker. cleared her throat. "Mr. Graison, from the background information I've gathered from Detective Zerbrowski, you're not suitable under state regulations to be a foster parent."

"What background?" Dawn demanded.

"It's not important," Nathaniel said, not taking his eyes off the social worker. "I'm not talking about me, I'm talking about Anita and Micah. What about their backgrounds? They're perfectly fine."

Miss Wendell cast Dawn a sideways look. "Perhaps it would be best if Dawn were to not be here for this part of the conversation," she said.

"Fine. We'll make breakfast," Nathaniel said, standing up.

"I want to stay here," Dawn said. She looked at Micah and Anita. "Please?"

"Why don't you give is a few minutes, Dawn?" Micah said.

"Because it's about me!"

"Dawn, let's go."

Pouting, Dawn let Nathaniel take her by the hand into the kitchen. Nathaniel continued over to the fridge. "Are you really going to make breakfast?" Dawn asked.

"Yes." Nathaniel pulled eggs and bacon out of the icebox. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Don't you want to hear what they're saying?"

Nathaniel turned on the oven. "It's better if I'm not involved in this."

He sounded so bitter, so angry at himself, that Dawn wanted to slap him. Or poke him. Or maybe give him a big hug.

But she could do all of that later. For now, Dawn had to figure out how to hear things she wasn't supposed to.

Luckily for Dawn, the three adults in the living room had loud voices.

"There are these forms that need to be filled out," Miss Wendell was saying. "We'll need to run a criminal history check and a credit check. And we will need references from people of standing in the community."

"That's it?" Micah asked.

"Yes." Miss Wendell hesitated before saying, "There are different rules for emergency and long-tem foster care. If we can't find Dawn a permanent placement within a week, we will need to find her a new emergency placement."

"Why can't she stay here?" Anita demanded. "If it's longer than a week? You can't just go uprooting her because of the bureaucracy!"

"Anita," Micah chided softly. "Let's go one day at a time. We all want what's best for Dawn."

Anita's silence was expressive.

Miss Wendell coughed delicately. "I'll need to talk to your references today, to begin processing Dawn in the system."

"I guess you can use Zerbrowski as one of mine," Micah said. "And also Franklin Callahan."

"A relative?" Miss Wendell sounded doubtful.

"He's my father, yes. But he's been sheriff of my hometown for almost fifteen years." Micah gave the woman the address and phone number of his father. Privately, Dawn thought that having a dad who was a sheriff was so cool. Micah probably got away with all kind of stuff... unless his dad expected him to be all 'upstanding citizen'.

"And yourself, Miss Blake?"

Dawn was pretty sure she imagined Anita's growl. "Zerbrowski said he'd be a reference for me."

"We'll need at least one more."

Concentrating hard on listening, Dawn caught a faint mumbled whisper from Anita. "Edward?" An image popped into Dawn's head, a blond man with scary blue eyes. "What a fucking disaster." Clearly, Dawn heard Anita say, "Can I get back to you on that?"

"Why don't you use Richard?" Micah suggested.

"Richard?" Miss Wendell jumped on the name. "What's his position in the community?"

"He's a junior high school science teacher out in the east part of town," Micah said. "Richard Zeeman. He's known Anita for years."

"Micah, I really think--"

"Will this Mr. Zeeman have a good idea of your suitability of a foster parent?" Miss Wendell asked.

"Yeah, I... I guess." Dawn had never heard Anita sound so flustered, but she pushed that away as she focused on what was happening. Anita and Micah were going to let her stay here!

Dawn turned away from the conversation and skipped over to Nathaniel by the stove. "I can stay!" she exclaimed.

Nathaniel smiled down at her, stress lines around his mouth vanishing. "That's great," he said with feeling. "The social worker's going to let Micah and Anita be emergency foster parents?"

"Uh huh!" Dawn went up on her toes to see what Nathaniel was cooking. "Mushrooms? Ew!"

"This is for Micah, you can pick what you want in your omelet later," Nathaniel said. "The bacon will be done in a few minutes, and then we can eat after I make the toast and set the table."

"I can set the table," Dawn offered.

"You don't have to, I'll do it."

"No way!" Dawn was so full of energy she couldn't stay still. She hurried over to the cutlery drawer. "I'm staying, so I should make every effort to be a productive contributing member of the group." She flashed Nathaniel a brilliant smile.

Nathaniel shook his head, but he was smiling too. "Where did you hear that?"

"On TV." Dawn counted out four sets of utensils. "Maybe it was on old Star Trek reruns. I used to watch those when I was home sick."

Nathaniel stirred the mushrooms in the pan. In spite of her loathsome feelings towards mushrooms, the smell, along with the cooking bacon in the oven, was making her so hungry.

At home, they usually only had time for cereal in the mornings before school. Mom would make pancakes on Sundays, when she didn't have to work at the gallery. They only had big breakfasts with eggs and stuff on special occasions. Mom would have liked that Nathaniel was making a big breakfast. Dawn hadn't had anything other than cereal and pancakes for breakfast since Mom died, because Buffy was so busy.

If Mom was here, or Buffy, I'd want them to fix what's wrong with me, Dawn thought as she straightened the forks on the table. Not that we know what's wrong with me. But I guess this means that I have to fix it on my own. Surprisingly, the thought didn't fill Dawn with fear. Maybe this was what growing up was like, having to fix things on your own.

"Who's Richard?" Dawn asked, pulling a chair over to the counter and climbing up.

"Why do you ask?" Nathaniel lifted Dawn off the counter and set her on the floor. "If you need something from the top cupboards, maybe you should ask."

Dawn stared at the cupboard, so high up. "But I could have got the plates without dropping them, really."

"The counter's very narrow," Nathaniel pointed out, opening the cupboard and pulling down the plates. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"But how am I going to help if I can't get the stuff?" Dawn demanded.

Nathaniel handed Dawn one plate. "How about after breakfast, we'll move the plates and glasses to a place you can reach them?"

Dawn let out a huff. "Fine," she muttered. Some big help she was turning out to be. Still a little upset, she carried the heavy plate to the table. On her return trip for another plate, she said, "So, Richard?"

"Where did you hear his name?" Nathaniel asked, cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Micah said that he could be a reference for Anita for the social worker people." Dawn squared the plate and turned back. Nathaniel was staring at her, incredulous. "What?"

"Micah said that about Richard?"

"Uh huh." Dawn picked up the third plate. "Who is he? Micah said he's a science teacher? Does he had a pocket protector? And glasses?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "He's..." Dawn waited while Nathaniel searched for the phrase. "He and Anita..."

"Did he used to be her boyfriend?" Dawn guessed.

"Something like that." Nathaniel had a weird tone in his voice, that Dawn couldn't decipher. "They were engaged for a while."

"They were?" Dawn squeaked. "What happened? Why didn't they get married?"

"Their lives were too different," Nathaniel said carefully. "Very different. It wasn't going to work."

"So now you're her boyfriend?" Dawn asked. "I like that." She picked up the fourth plate. "Hey, if he's not her boyfriend any more, is he going to want to be a personal reference for her?"

"I have no idea," Nathaniel admitted.

"He'd better," Dawn said stubbornly. "If not, I'll..."

"You'll what?"

"I'll give him a stern talking-to," Dawn declared. "And Anita can yell at him." Dawn looked at Nathaniel out of the corner of her eye. "Do you think that Anita would yell at Richard?"

Nathaniel picked up the spatula and set to work on the omelets. "I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a situation where Anita wasn't yelling at Richard."

"Nathaniel."

Nathaniel jumped like a scalded cat, startling Dawn. She whipped around to see Micah standing in the doorway, looking less than pleased.

"I know your feelings on Richard, but not in front of Dawn, please?" Micah continued.

Nathaniel nodded, ducking his head. "Sorry, Micah."

Micah sighed, walking across the kitchen to put his hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "It's a learning experience for all of us," he said. "I have to go to work, and Miss Wendell is going to stay here with you and Anita and Dawn for a while, to check this place out."

"You have to leave?" Dawn blurted out. "But you were at work until late last night."

"I do." Micah dug a travel mug out of the cupboard and took in over to the coffee maker. "But we're short-staffed and there's a lot that needs to be done."

"Oh." Dawn bit her lip. She didn't want Micah to leave. "What do you do?"

"I'm the coordinator for a hotline, where people can call if they need help." Micah took a gulp of coffee, then refilled the mug.

Dawn vaguely remembered hearing something like that from Zerbrowski, back in the hospital. "Is it for lycanthropes?" she guessed.

Micah raised his eyebrows. "Yes, it is."

"Oh." Dawn supposed that made sense. Being a werewolf must be hard on the other days of the month too, not just the full moon. "Okay."

Micah went over to Dawn and lifted her up to sit on the counter. "Anita and Nathaniel are going to be here all day, and I'll be home by the time Nathaniel has to go to work," he said. "You'll be fine with them."

"I know." Dawn took a deep breath, noting that the healing cuts on her abdomen didn't hurt at all. "I, um... thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me stay here. Even though I'm all weird and stuff."

Micah gave her a very serious look. "You're not weird, Dawn. You're just a little different, like we all are. Do you understand?"

Dawn wasn't sure she'd agree with the 'little' part of that interpretation, but the rest was sound. "I understand."

"Good." Micah gave Dawn a tired smile. "I have to run."

Dawn waved at Micah as he grabbed his mug and a napkin-wrapped package from Nathaniel on his way out the door. She thought about hopping off the counter and doing more to set the table, but it was kind of neat up here. Sitting on the counter, she was almost as tall as she'd been before.

"What do you want in your omelets?" Nathaniel asked Dawn, just as Anta and Miss Wendell came into the kitchen.

"Cheese, please," Dawn said, deflating a little. Having Miss Wendell around made her nervous, and she was pretty sure that it was her nerves, not anyone else.

Nathaniel nodded, not turning around. "Anita?"

"Whatever." Anita went to the coffee maker, and glared at the empty pot as if more coffee would just magically appear. "Why is all the coffee gone?"

"I can make more," Dawn offered, eager to show Miss Wendell that she wasn't totally useless.

"Nice try," Anita said as she rinsed out the pot.

Dawn frowned, but didn't press it. Maybe it was a rule for foster care, the kids weren't allowed to do anything fun. Or useful.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Nathaniel asked Miss Wendell.

The woman shook her head, holding her notepad tight. "No, thank you." Her eyes lingered just a little too long on Nathaniel.

Well, that was all kinds of weird. When Anita finished setting up the coffee maker, Dawn held out her arms.

Anita frowned at her. "You want a hug?"

Dawn shook her head.

"You once caught a fish that big?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "You're so not funny. Micah put me up here and I can't get down."

"Ah." Anita lifted Dawn to the ground. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you." As long as Miss Wendell was staring at her, making notes like she was some kind of zoo animal, Dawn was going to carry on with her day as if the social worker wasn't there. "We should get a step-ladder."

Anita gave her a tight smile. "We'll see."

Great. Anita was tense, Nathaniel was nervous, the social worker was examining Dawn like a disease, Micah was gone, and Dawn could apparently read people's minds. This morning ranked an eleven on the suckage scale.

At least breakfast would be good.

~~~

Miss Wendell stayed all morning. She wanted to see everything in the house, Dawn's room, the laundry facilities, where Anita stored her guns. Dawn couldn't do anything fun. Writing in her journal was out, as was looking through the bookshelves in the living room. Dawn finally found the newspaper Merle brought over, and she spread that all over the kitchen floor while Miss Wendell poked around in the basement.

In the bright light of the afternoon, the story about the train derailment didn't seem quite so bad. The memory of the pain and fear had faded, and Dawn could read the entire story without freaking out. There really wasn't that much information, she discovered. Frustrated, she opened the paper to the second page. She may as well as figure out what was happening in this world.

Minutes later, Dawn was ready to give it up. This world was just as stupid as her old one. School shootings, drug busts, people killing each other for no understandable reason. Dawn had to agree with Giles's old saying, that at least demons had a pattern of destruction, wanted something with the death and woe. Humans were impossible to understand.

There was a weird story about vampires in the entertainment section, something about a vampire ballet and some guy who the paper called "Master", which reminded Dawn way too much of Dracula. There was a picture of the Master, named Jean-Claude. He reminded Dawn a little of a young Johnny Depp, with really pretty eyes. In spite of the fact that Dawn knew how dangerous vampires were, she sighed when she saw the picture. He was really handsome.

"Dawn?"

Looking up guiltily, Dawn saw Anita and Nathaniel and Miss Wendell emerge from the basement. "Um, hi?"

"What are you doing?" Anita asked.

Dawn flicked a glance at Miss Wendell. What would a five-year-old be doing in the paper? "Looking for pictures to color?" Dawn suggested.

"We can get you a coloring book at the store," Nathaniel said, skirting the two women to start gathering up the scattered newspaper. "There's not a lot in the paper for a child."

"I'm not--" Dawn cut herself off. Really, there was no point in trying to argue this. No matter how smart she acted, or how mature, they weren't going to believe she wasn't a little kid.

"Dawn," Anita said, "Miss Wendell wants to talk to you before she goes."

"Why?" Dawn sat back on her heels. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Anita said with a half-hearted smile. "She just wants to ask you a few things."

"Oh." Unaccountable worry snaked into Dawn's stomach. "Can you come too?"

"We'll just be a few minutes," Miss Wendell said. "Anita will be here in the kitchen the whole time."

Uncertain, Dawn looked at Nathaniel. He paused in folding the papers to give her a tiny nod.

Well, if Nathaniel thought it was okay, then it probably wouldn't be too bad. Dawn climbed to her feet and followed Miss Wendell into the living room. She waited until Miss Wendell chose a seat, then she climbed onto the couch opposite. She folded her hands and waited.

Miss Wendell put her papers and notepad back into her briefcase, then looked at Dawn. "How are you feeling?" the woman asked.

"Fine," Dawn answered immediately. If that was all that Miss Wendell had to ask, this was going to be easy.

"Good." Miss Wendell shifted slightly on the chair. "Now, Dawn, I have some questions and I need you to answer them honestly."

"Okay."

"Sometimes, we may want to say things that are nice but untrue, because we don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. But that's still a lie."

Dawn linked her fingers in her lap. "I know what's a lie and what's the truth," she said, keeping her voice as level as possible.

"Good." Miss Wendell shifted on the chair again. "The first question is, do you feel safe here?"

Dawn blinked. What kind of a stupid question was that? "Of course I do."

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" Dawn tried to stop herself from getting angry. "Anita said she'd protect me and Micah said the same thing and Nathaniel too. Anita found me in the cemetery and she said she'd protect me then and that was the truth." Dawn made herself stop and count to ten. "So yes."

Miss Wendell cleared her throat, glancing down at her briefcase. In a sudden rush, something slapped Dawn with a rush of emotions. Somehow, Dawn knew that Miss Wendell had been given this case because everyone expected it to end badly, and Miss Wendell was worried that they were never going to find a place for Dawn and she'd be in danger and be eaten by a vampire or a werewolf because no one cared if a little demon-chased girl had anyone to protect her, and there was no way Miss Wendell was going to be able to stop it.

Then the rush of emotions was gone.

Dawn had no idea how to react, what to do. Luck was with her, however, and Miss Wendell was gathering up her briefcase to go. "That was all I wanted to know," the woman said. "I'll be back in a day or two to see how you're settling in, how does that sound?"

Dawn nodded blankly, but couldn't find a thing to say as Nathaniel and Anita came into the living room. Dawn knew that Anita was talking to Miss Wendell, but she didn't listen to the words. She was still trying to understand what had just happened.

Maybe Miss Wendell wasn't the bad guy in this, after all. It was as if she wanted to keep Dawn safe, but she didn't know how.

Nathaniel sat on the couch next to Dawn while Anita showed the social worker to the door. "You okay?" Nathaniel asked.

Dawn shook her head. "People's thoughts are supposed to be their own, right?" she asked once she heard the outside door shut.

"I guess," Nathaniel said slowly.

"Then hearing things they think, it's like snooping?" Dawn looked down at her hands. "Then what I'm doing, it's snooping?"

"Dawn, you're not doing this on purpose."

"I know that!" Dawn exclaimed. She glanced up as Anita came back into the living room and sat on the couch next to her. "But if I hear stuff that people are thinking, it's stuff I shouldn't know."

"Did you hear something from the social worker?" Anita asked.

Dawn pulled her feet up onto the couch. "It's not a bad thing."

"Is it important?" Anita pressed.

"Maybe, I don't know." Dawn leaned against Anita, cuddling up against her side. "She wants me to be safe but she doesn't know how to make that happen."

Anita smoothed Dawn's hair back, making Dawn feel a little better. "We all want that. Promise."

Dawn closed her eyes. She felt so exhausted. Waking up seemed like it had happened so long ago.

"What do you want to do now?" Nathaniel asked. "We could watch TV, or go to the park."

"Why don't we just sit around for a few minutes?" Anita interrupted gently. "Take a few minutes to relax."

"Okay," Dawn said. She opened her eyes and watched the sunlight play on the far wall. "Anita?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

Dawn wanted to say everything, but that sounded clingy and hokey, so she settled on cuddling closer to Anita. "For stuff."

Anita put her arm around Dawn's back. "You're welcome."

~~~

Dear Buffy,

If Social Services in Sunnydale was anything like it is here, it's amazing anything gets done. So much paperwork and prying. It's like spying.

They have vampires here who call themselves Masters! A lot of them. They had a vampire ballet in St. Louis last month. It must have been really cool.

The Master of the City in St. Louis is named Jean-Claude. I saw his picture in the paper and he's totally hot. For a dead man. Anita has a lot of books on vampires and supernatural stuff in the living room, but I haven't had a chance to look through them. I'll try tomorrow. Tonight, we're going to make pizza, Nathaniel said. I don't think they have any board games, but I saw a pack of cards in a drawer when I was helping with lunch. Maybe they'll want to play cards with me or something.

I miss you guy. I miss Mom a lot too. It must have been hard to be a mom, but she was happy, right? I remember her being happy (except that summer when you ran away or when Dad was being a dick). I hope she was happy. I was glad she was my Mom.

Dawn sat back and tried to think of something else to say. She didn't want to put anything about her weird telepathy down on paper until she figured out more. Especially if the social worker might try to read her journal one day.

Nope, she was done. Dawn closed her journal and laid her pencil down next to it. She snuck a glance at the kitchen, where she could hear Anita on the phone. Nathaniel was still in the shower, so maybe now was the best time to look at those vampire books, without anyone knowing.

She had just climbed to her feet when the front doorbell rang. She froze, uncertain. Should she get the door?

"I'll call you back, Bert," Anita said, already on her way out of the kitchen. She put the phone on top of the television. "You stay here," Anita said to Dawn.

"But--"

"Stay here," Anita said again.

Dawn leaned against the couch. She just wanted to see who it was. Hopefully it wasn't Miss Wendell again.

"Richard?" Anita's shock was audible all the way from the front hall. "What are you doing here?"

Dawn's head shot up. Richard was here? Anita's former boyfriend who Nathaniel didn't really like?

"Can I come in?" a male voice asked.

"I--Yeah, sure." The door closed, then a few seconds later, Anita backed into the living room. "Richard, I'm not sure now's a good time."

"You're the one who started this by giving Social Services my name." A tall man followed Anita, pulling off his winter jacket. He finally looked up, and Dawn almost melted. He was quite possibly the most handsome man Dawn had ever seen. "Is this her?"

"This is Dawn," Anita said, sounding more annoyed with each syllable. "What do you want?"

Richard put his handful of papers and books on a chair, and tossed his jacket over the chair back. "How old is she?"

Anita had crossed her arms over her chest and was glaring at Richard. "We're not sure, but probably five."

"Do you even know how to look after a five-year-old?" Richard asked.

"I'm very self-reliant," Dawn piped up. When Richard looked at her again, she blushed.

"I'm sure you are," he said, smiling. "Anita?"

"Fine." Anita uncrossed her arms. "In the kitchen." After Richard had left the room, Anita came over to Dawn and crouched down to her level. "Can you stay here for a little bit while I talk to Richard?"

Dawn nodded. She waited until after Anita had vanished into the hall, then she scampered across the room to the chair where Richard left his stuff. It wasn't snooping if it was left in plain sight, Dawn had always said.

The book was a science textbook, and the papers appeared to be tests of some kind. Without touching, Dawn looked at the top test. The subject appeared to be geology. Not Dawn's favorite subject, but still, she'd gotten the second-highest mark in that section.

Dawn looked closer at the answer to the first question, and frowned. The paper had a red grade at the top, so Richard was probably done marking, but the answer, which had a math equation to determine the age of rocks, was wrong, but unmarked by red ink.

Was it wrong in this world, however? Rubbing at the palm of her hand, which had started to ache inexplicably, Dawn pulled the textbook out from underneath the papers and sat down, opening the book on her lap.

Nathaniel found her there about fifteen minutes later. "What are you doing?" Nathaniel asked, sitting on the floor next to Dawn.

"Trying to see if this," Dawn pointed at the test paper, "is wrong. I think the original math's wrong." She held out her journal, where she'd written the ordinal question and was working through it on her own. "See? Way wrong. Totally wrong."

"Where did you get this from?" Nathaniel asked, taking the textbook from Dawn.

"Um..." Dawn faltered under Nathaniel's scrutiny. "It was just lying there where anyone could see it."

"Dawn, this is Richard's stuff," Nathaniel said. "You shouldn't poke around his things."

Dawn's heart sank. "I didn't mean to do anything bad," she protested weakly, rubbing at the painful spot on her hand.

"I know." Nathaniel put the textbook back on the chair. "But now you know for next time. You should ask if you want to see something."

"But what if I want to see something and someone doesn't want me to read it?" Dawn asked.

Nathaniel pulled his slightly damp hair over his shoulder. "Maybe they want to keep things private, or maybe they think it's not suitable for a little girl. It's not punishment."

"I guess you're right."

Nathaniel's smile brightened up the room. "I don't have to go to work for a few hours, do you want to go start working on the pizza?"

"We can't," Dawn said. "Richard and Anita are still talking in the kitchen."

"So?" Nathaniel said, a rebellious expression on his face. "It's my house too, and you're a guest here, and we can go wherever we want." He pushed his hair out of the way and stood up. "Let's go."

Dawn tucked her journal under one arm and climbed to her feet. "Can I have some water too?"

"Of course, you--"

Nathaniel was interrupted by two approaching voices. "--think this is a dangerous idea!" Richard said as he and Anita reappeared at the other end of the room. "You have no idea what's after that little--"

"Richard, stop it!" Anita cut him off. She pulled up when she saw Dawn and Nathaniel at the other end of the room. "How are you two doing?"

"Good," Dawn said distantly, staring up at Richard the whole time. She didn't like the thought that she'd done something that would make him angry. "Can I ask you a question?"

Richard squared his shoulders. "What is it?"

Dawn gripped Nathaniel's hand tight for support. "Is it okay if I look at those papers?"

Richard frowned. "Yes, but..." His voice trailed off as Dawn let go of Nathaniel's hand and ran across the room.

She opened her journal to the equation she'd worked out. "The answer on the top page is wrong, and this is the right one," she said eagerly.

Richard stared down at the page, then lifted his brown eyes to meet Dawn's in confusion. "Who worked this out?"

Dawn started to get the feeling that she'd something wrong. "I did," she whispered.

"This is high school level work," Richard muttered. His eyes slid past Dawn to Nathaniel, and something in his face grew ugly. "At least we know you didn't help her," he said to the other man.

Dawn's burgeoning crush vanished in a rush of anger. Anita's outraged "Richard!" came at the same instant as Dawn yanked her journal away from Richard and exclaimed, "Don't you say mean things about Nathaniel!"

Nathaniel grabbed Dawn around the middle and lifted her into the air. "Let's go play outside," he said, taking her into the front hall.

"I don't want to play outside!" Dawn tried to twist out of Nathaniel's grip, but he was far too strong.

"We're going to go outside and let Anita and Richard talk this out," Nathaniel said, setting Dawn down on the step. He helped her into her winter coat, which she only fought a little.

"I want to talk it out too," Dawn said crossly. She angrily stepped into her new boots, and stormed out the front door.

Nathaniel followed her into the snow in his own winter coat. Dawn stomped down the walk and out onto the untouched snow covering the front yard. She had to lift her feet high to walk through the snow, and it was difficult enough that she burned off most of her anger once she'd made it around the whole yard.

Nathaniel caught up with her by the old oak tree in the corner of the yard. "You know, Richard and I have problems between us to begin with," Nathaniel said as Dawn kicked the tree. "What happened inside didn't have anything to do with you."

"He shouldn't be mean to people!" Dawn said, giving the tree one last kick that jarred her foot. "I was trying to help."

"I know."

Dawn tried to cross her arms, but the jacket was too bulky and she had to resort to putting her hands on her hips. Now that her anger was fading, she felt like she'd done something wrong. But she wasn't going to cry, she told herself, blinking teary eyes. Just because the handsome man had insulted Nathaniel and didn't believe Dawn had done the work she'd claimed, was no reason to be a baby.

Nathaniel crouched down in the snow next to Dawn. "Do you want to make a snowman?" he asked.

Dawn sniffed hard. "I've never made a snowman."

"Neither have I," Nathaniel admitted. "Do you want to try?"

"I don't have any gloves," Dawn said. Her hand still hurt, but rubbing or itching didn't seem to help at all, so she balled her hand up into a fist.

Nathaniel pulled a pair of bright red mittens from his pocket. "Anita got these for you," he said, helping Dawn pull the mittens on. "Now, how about that snowman?"

~~~

Dawn had just finished pressing pebbles into the snowman's head for some eyes when Richard came out of the house. He came slowly down the walk, then stepped onto the snow and crossed to where Dawn and Nathaniel had put the snowman.

Nathaniel, holding Dawn up to finish the snowman, turned to face Richard. "Are you leaving?" he said neutrally.

"Yes." Richard rubbed the back of his neck, glancing back towards the house before meeting Nathaniel's eyes. "I..." He took a deep breath. "I apologize for what I said in there. I was out of line." Then he looked at Dawn. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Dawn wanted to say that she wasn't scared, only angry, and that Richard shouldn't bully people around about how smart they were, but she just rested her head against Nathaniel's shoulder. "It's okay."

Richard nodded, a jerky motion of his head, and started to walk away.

"Richard?" Nathaniel called. The man stopped in his tracks. "Can I ask a favor?"

Turning back slowly, Dawn could see how Richard's jaw was set, and it frightened her, just a little. He was big and Dawn was little, and Anita was all the way in the house. "What favor might that be?"

"Do you have copies of high school tests that we can get?"

Richard frowned, anger dissolving to confusion. "What for?"

"Dawn's pretty smart, and she might have fun looking at those tests," Nathaniel said.

"I suppose I can get copies of the practice tests, but..." Richard looked at Dawn. "She's so young."

"But she's really smart," Nathaniel said. "Even Anita thinks so."

A wave of intense hurt passed through Richard's eyes. Dawn, still staring at the man, didn't understand what was going on at all, and hugged Nathaniel harder.

"I'll get Anita those tests," Richard said, and left without another word.

The cold was starting to seep into Dawn's bones. "Can we go back inside?" she mumbled into Nathaniel's shoulder.

"Of course," Nathaniel said. Holding Dawn tight, he walked across the yard and back into the house.

Anita closed the door after them. "That's a really nice snowman, Dawn," she said, helping Dawn unbutton her coat. "It was good work."

Dawn ducked her head. "Nathaniel helped," she said.

Anita smiled as she set Dawn's boots against the wall. "You both did a great job."

"Is Richard going to help us with social services?" Nathaniel asked quietly.

Anita glanced up. "Yes, he is." She stood up and reached out her hand to Dawn. "Let's go make some dinner."

Dawn gave her palm one last rub, and reached out to Anita with the aching hand.

Anita caught her hand and turned it up to the light. "Dawn, what happened?" Anita asked, bending over the angry red welt on Dawn's skin. "Did something bite you?"

"No," Dawn protested. "It just started to hurt."

"When?" Anita asked.

Dawn shrugged. "After Richard got here, I guess. Why?"

Anita's eyes grew wide. "Are you sure?" she demanded.

Dawn pulled her hand away and backed up a step. "I think so," she said in a tiny voice.

"Anita?" Nathaniel said. "Dawn, is it hurting more or less now?"

"Less," Dawn whispered.

Instead of being glad, Anita grew even more upset. "Was it burning? Itching?"

Dawn shook her head.

"But it's stopped, right?" Nathaniel asked, putting his hand on Anita's back. "It's stopped, and that's all that matters."

Anita rubbed her hand, where Dawn knew she had that little cross-shaped scar, and refused to look at Dawn.

What was going on now?

...to be continued