Dance With the Dead (BTVS, Book Six)

chapter 11 - Gone

Dawn, Mom and I were home, getting ready to leave for the day. Dawn had to go to school, Mom had to go to work, and I was gonna meet up with the gang at the Magic Box.

Mom called upstairs. "Dawn, come on, you gotta eat breakfast. Xander's gonna be here any second." There was no response. Mom sighed, walking toward me in the kitchen, cooking. "She's gonna be late for school again." She looked at me. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," I answered. "Not 'ready to head back to classes, face the world' okay, but... I think I'm finally getting back to my old self. I'm gonna head to the Magic Box, helping the gang fish for more info on the stolen diamond."

Dawn walked in, wearing a sling on her arm.

"I called you before," Mom told her.

"Didn't hear you," Dawn told her sullenly, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"Mom made you an omelet," I told her.

"Not hungry," Dawn told us, taking a drink.

"Dawn, you need to eat something," I told her.

"Thanks for your concern," Dawn told me, putting her glass down, walking out, leaving.

Mom looked at me in confusion. "Why is she taking it out on you?"

"Because I let it happen," I answered.

"Zoey, Willow was the one who--" Mom started.

"Who was drowning," I told her. "My best friend. And I was too wrapped up in my own dumb life to even notice."

The backdoor bursted open.

Mom and I jumped in surprise, looking toward the door.

Spike walked in, covered with a blanket to save himself from the sun, closing the door, throwing off the blanket, straightening up, smoothing down his hair, looking at us. "Morning."

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

Mom returned to cooking.

"Just, uh, took a stroll," Spike told us. "Found myself in your neck of the woods."

"Couldn't find a less flammable time of day to take a stroll?" I asked.

"Yeah, well, the fact is my lighter's gone missing," Spike told us. "Thought it might have, uh, dropped outta my pocket the last time I was here."

I shook my head. "Haven't seen it."

I turned to the sink.

Mom took the omelet pan, putting it on the counter next to the sink. "I'm, uh, gonna head upstairs, get dressed for work."

"Okay," I told her. "I..." Mom walked out, leaving. I leaned one hand against the island, watching her go, looking at Spike. "Lame."

"What?" Spike asked.

"You, making up excuses," I answered, turning to the sink to get a clean plate. 

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, love," Spike told me, walking closer. "Bloody fond of that lighter."

I tilted my head at him. "Find a new nickname."

Spike walked closer. "What should I call you, then? Pet?" I merely looked at him. "Sweetheart? My, uh..." He brushed back a piece of my hair. "Little Belle? As in the beauty."

"Well, that's fitting, since you're the beast," I told him.

Spike smirked in amusement, chuckling. "You know I love this hair. The way it bounces around when..."