Summary: Dawn distracts herself.

Disclaimer: Even if Joss were to start selling off Spike and Buffy, I still wouldn’t be able to own them.

Author’s note: Thanks to BTL for the betaing, and no I’m not going to fire you! Also this chapter contains underage drinking. Well, sorta, cause Dawn’s older than dirt so can she be really underage, even if she looks fourteen?

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Chapter 8: A Bottle of Kahlua.

Dawn set down her pen, her translation of the seal complete. She’d finished while Giles was still brewing tea. She was somewhat impressed with her skills; she hadn’t actually participated in the watcherness for what seemed like eons.

She had hoped that this latest creature feature would keep her mind from the fact that right now, Xander was making googly eyes at the mummy. It turned her stomach.

So much so she thought she was going to need a drink.

Dawn pushed herself away from the table and stepped towards the door, eager to get back to her house, and uncork that bottle of Bailey’s she’d bought.

“Leaving?” Giles asked coming out of his office with a cup of tea in his hand.

“Ya, there’s not much left for me to do. I translated your seal for you. I hope that helps.”

Giles looked over at the paper sitting at her spot at the table.

“This is extraordinary, Dawn,” Giles gushed.

“Ya, probably. Let me know if you need anymore help on this one, ‘kay? That’s what I agreed to do after all.”

Giles nodded absently as he read over her translation, not noticing as Dawn padded out the swinging doors.

Dawn trudged out into the night, not caring about anything. And certainly not in the mood to run into Angel.

“Where’s Buffy?” he asked.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I’m not Buffy’s keeper, brood boy. You do remember that I don’t like you, right?”

“Sorta,” he mentioned. “Look, Buffy told me about you, how you’re supposed to help her. I just thought with all that knowledge from the future, you would help a guy out.”

“By telling you where she is?” Dawn asked with incredulity. “You’re a lazy ass, you know that. Did it occur to you to check out her house?”

“She’s usually patrolling now.”

“Lazy and dumb.”

“Hey, I think you should watch what you say to me.”

Dawn rolled her eyes again.

“Please trip and fall on something pointy and wooden, ‘kay?” Dawn spat, resuming her trek home.

I really hate that guy, she noted to herself.

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All the ingredients for a typical Dawn experiment were out on her kitchen counter: ice cream, bananas, pineapple, coconut, and chocolate chips. The bottle of Bailey’s had curiously disappeared despite turning her entire kitchen upside down. She’d found Kahlua instead.

The blender whizzed for a brief second as Dawn put the finishing touches on her mopey extravaganza. She poured the frothy substance into her glass and topped it off with a pineapple wedge.

Clutching her glass, Dawn’s mind briefly flitted to the dangers of drinking. It didn’t help that she was completely alone here. No one to drink with.

Dawn settled down on her couch and reached for the remote, sipping what she had decided to call a Kahlua Aurora (she’d turned down the idea of Dawn’s Kahlua surprise, ‘cause it sounded like a casserole catastrophe she’d had during marriage to husband number eight, or at least she thought it was husband number eight).

Turning the TV on, she channel surfed for a while, finding very little of interest on. She was about to check out the pay per view channels when the front door of her house flew open, a very irate and frustrated vampire on the other side trying to get in.

Dawn nearly snorted her ice cream out her nose. “Spike!” she laughed. “You know you can’t get in here.”

“Bloody hell!” he yelled. “You’re alive!” He sounded relieved, which made Dawn smile. Oh ya, her big bad had the love of Dawn hugged into him.

“You killed me,” she stated, getting up from the couch and stepping towards the door. “Did I haunt you?” she asked tauntingly.

“Bloody right you did. How are you alive?”

“Immortal.,” she answered like it was an everyday question.

He seemed to take that for face value.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Pfft, do you think I’m that stupid?” she countered. “I’m gonna need a little more than ‘bloody hell, you’re alive’ to make me give you an invite.”

“Then you can come out here,” he ordered.

“Oh no, I’m not one of your minions,” Dawn responded, taking another sip of her drink. “I can talk to you just fine here, from the comfort and safety of my house thank you very much.”

“I was just…” he started but paused looking for the right word.

“…gotta give me something other than that Spike,” Dawn reminded.

“Look, you bloody bint, I was fuckin’ worried about the fact that I drained you dry,” Spike spat out agitatedly.

“Awwww,” mocked Dawn.

“Don’t mock me little girl.”

“Please…” noted Dawn with a bland tone.

“It’s driving me barmy is what it is. Why do I care?” he asked, starting to pace in front of the door.

“’Cause you are you,” Dawn responded. “I’m part of your future, and I screwed it up by meeting you before I was supposed to.”

“What?”

“There’s the poet I know and love,” she snickered. “I hugged you. It’s got this whole effect. People I was made from, they get happy fuzzy feelings from hugging me, it’s a thing.”

“You were made?” he question with a blink.

“Weren’t you?” she asked him back.

“I suspect you weren’t sired, pet,” he commented, pressing his hands again the doorframe, and resting his forehead against the barrier that kept him out. “You gonna let me in?” he asked again.

Dawn took another sip of her ice creamy concoction.

“Thinkin’ about it. I was a little bored before you showed up. Xander’s all goo goo over some mummy, Janice doesn’t know me yet, and Anya’s all vengeance demony and doesn’t know who I am yet. Going back in the past sucks.”

“The Whelp’s got himself a girl? Did hell freeze over?” he asked.

“Oddly enough, no. That happens next Christmas,” supplied Dawn.

He gave her a queer look.

“Oh, come in already,” she said annoyed and headed back towards the couch. She set her drink down on the coffee table and settled herself in front of the TV again.

Spike stalked into the room, closing the door behind him. He made a tour of the living room, before setting himself onto the other end of the couch, careful not to touch Dawn’s feet that were taking up most of the chesterfield.

“Is this weird for you?” she asked staring him down with her blue eyes.

“Little bit,” he admitted.

“So what’s Dru doing tonight?” she asked, reaching for her drink.

“Damned if I know,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “Started going on about something green stealing her dollies away. When she gets into those kind of moods…” he sighed. “A bloke’s gotta take care of his own sanity, you know.”

“I’m the something green,” stated Dawn, grabbing her drink again. “I’m gonna have to invent this again,” she noted to herself out loud. “This is good. And booze-y.” Dawn giggled.

“You old enough for that pet?” he asked eyeing the drink in her hand, a quick sniff letting him know her words were true about the contents of her drink.

It was as if the alcohol suddenly hit her. She knew it was going to happen. The Summers girls didn’t hold their liquor well, and Dawn was no exception.

“I’m so old I don’t know how old I am!” she declared. “I’m older than dirt!”

“I think you’ve had enough, pet,” Spike advised, trying to take the glass away from her.

“Oh no you don’t!” Dawn warned, shaking a finger at him. “My drink, my house, my glass.”

“How much of the good stuff did you put in there?” he asked as he watched her drink down the rest of her alcoholic milkshake.

“The whole bottle,” Dawn snickered. “Stupid Xander.”

With a thunk, Dawn put down her now empty glass, a satisfying smile on her face. She stood and took two steps towards the kitchen but stopped suddenly. In an instant, Spike was at her side, ready to catch her if she fell.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Dawn noted, looking more than a little sick.

“Drink a bottle of Kahlua?” Spike asked.

“No, the bottle of Kahlua was yummy. I shouldn’t have stood up.”

Spike placed one hand on her waist and the other on her arm, steering her towards the stairs, and where he assumed there was going to be a bathroom.

She was certainly looking green now.

“Spike?” she whispered, as he helped her up the stairs.

“Yes luv?”

“Don’t sleep with Anya? ‘Kay?”

Total non-comprehension passed over his face. He didn’t know who Anya was, much less want to sleep with her.

“Not a problem, pet,” he finally responded, helping her towards the bathroom.

“Spike?” she asked again.

“Yes, nib?”

She didn’t say anything, just completely do a full 180 degree turn and barf the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

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When Dawn awoke the next morning, she had a killer hangover.

Also, she had a vampire sleeping beside her on the bed. It hurt to roll her eyes, but she would have.

Stupid Vampire, she thought.

“Spike,” she moaned, nudging the vampire that was laid out on her comforter with her foot. Her foot that still had her sneakers on.

Spike rolled over, nuzzling himself into the pillows on his side of the bed.

“Spike!” she moaned more forcefully.

“What?” he moaned back. “It’s bloody morning, vampires sleep in the morning!” he whined.

“I have a hang over, get me aspirin?”

“Get your own bloody aspirin,” he mumbled into the pillow.

“Please?” she begged.

Slowly he slid his feet to the floor, his docs making a thud noise.

“Quietly please?”

“You are just lucky I’m full up from the last time pet, your whining would normally not sit well. Master Vamp and all.”

“Aspirin, Spike,” she countered, effectively putting an end to the discussion.

I’m just lucky you love me, Dawn thought to herself, ‘cause saying it out loud would have hurt.

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It took her a total of five hours to make herself vertical, and not dry heaving, Dawn. Blinds closed, Dawn and Spike sat in the kitchen, Dawn drinking water, Spike munching on some left over chicken wings he had found in her fridge.

“I am not going to torture myself. Not going to the school at all. Or the Bronze and that stupid culture dance thing that’s happening,” Dawn explained, possibly trying to convince herself more than Spike.

“That’s right luv, stick to your guns. Wait for the whelp to crawl back on his hands and knees. Then you can torture the git for leaving you.”

Dawn nodded. “Good plan.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“I don’t have anything else to do though,” Dawn finally commented.

“Wanna help me find a way to cure Dru?” he asked.

“Oh, I already know how to do that,” Dawn muttered over the rim of her glass. “Giles has got the book in the library.”

Spike stood up from the stool he was sitting on. “Then we are going to have to get that book.”

Dawn set down her glass. “What? Didn’t you hear the whole avoiding of the library speech? No go! Going bad.”

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Tbc…