Title: Baby Doll
Author Restive Nature
Disclaimers: I do not own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. They belong to the almighty Joss and I just play with them for my own amusement before putting them away neatly.
Spoilers: Buffy Season Three "Amends"
Chapter Four
Girls Night Out
"So," Angel was hesitant to ask, but his curiosity was peaked. "How did you end up with Spike and Dru?" He was glad to see that Dylan didn’t look too upset. In fact, she seemed to be expecting this. She seemed down right jovial about it.
"Kind of a long story," she shrugged, with a small smile playing at her lips. "Do you really want to know?"
"I think I do," Angel nodded. "its not often you see a human living with vampires, unless they’re being-!" He suddenly realized what he was about to say and stopped himself short.
"Being what?" Dylan smirked. It seemed she knew what he was going to say.
"Being fattened up?"
"Uh, yeah," Angel looked down at his hands, still holding the lukewarm mug of tea. It really wasn’t a pleasant idea.
"Well," Dylan sighed and leaned back in her seat. "It happened after Parent/ Teacher night. You know what happened that night, right?"
"When Spike attacked the school because he couldn’t wait for the Night of Saint Vigeous?"
"Exactly," Dylan nodded and took a quick sip of tea. "Well, my parents had gone in early for their interviews and left before any of that happened. They were fairly pleased with what my teachers had to say. You know, the still waters run deep sort of crap." He looked puzzled at her words. "I mean, even though I was shy and the new girl, I was adjusting well and making friends and keeping my grades up."
"Every parents dream," he noted quietly.
"So, they decided that since I was doing well, they were going to let me sleep over at my friend Shannon’s house for the weekend. And I was allowed to go to the Bronze and stay out a little later than normal."
"Which I take was not the best idea?" Angel smirked.
"I think everything would have been fine," Dylan shrugged, "but for one little thing I did. It was stupid, really. But back then, I wasn’t exactly thinking like I should have been."
"Oh?"
*****
"Hey Mom!" Dylan called down to her mother from the head of the stairs.
"Yes dear?" her mother’s soft voice floated up to her.
"Tell Shannon to come up to my room when she gets here," Dylan asked loudly to ensure her mother heard. "I haven’t decided what I’m going to wear tonight yet."
"All right dear," her mother’s voice answered. Dylan could hear the amusement in the woman’s voice. It wasn’t often that Dylan got excited about things. But finally being allowed to go to the Bronze and be able to stay later than ten o’clock was pretty amazing in her books. It was always embarrassing trying to explain to her friends why she had an earlier curfew than they did, even on weekends. And it was even worse when her father would show up to get her at precisely said time. At least she’d finally managed to convince her dad to wait outside the club in the car. And she made certain he never had the excuse to come in and get her again.
Dylan’s hands pushed through the pile of clothes amassed at the foot of her bed. There weren’t a lot of choices, but she had no idea what to chose. Her hand lingered over some pieces, and she experimentally held them up to herself and perused her image in the mirror. Finally, she heard the doorbell ring and the soft murmured greetings by her mother. After a few moments, Shannon was in her room, offering expert advice.
In twenty minutes, they had the outfit picked out and Dylan escaped to the bathroom to put it on. She returned to her room and with Shannon’s help, applied her make-up. While she’d been changing, Shannon had sweetly picked up the few odd clothes left out and put them away. Dylan grabbed her coat, and the knapsack she’d filled with her clothes for the sleepover. With a hug and a kiss for each parent, they soon left the house, giggling like the schoolgirls they were.
They decided to go straight to the Bronze, since Dylan’s clothing indecision had made them late to meet their other two friends, Cindy and Karen. They made plans for the weekend in the drive over in Shannon’s used Saturn. All in all, it looked to be a good evening. They left their non-essentials in the car and Shannon made sure to lock it up before heading into the club. They didn’t care if the music pulsing all around them was live or a DJ, it had a good beat and they were ready to dance. They hooked up with their friends, found a table, got their drinks and began to party.
After a few hours, mindless exhaustion began to set in. The kind that came from the relief of stress, too much sugar-enhanced soda and constant motion on the dance floor. And that was what made Dylan spill her drink on herself. There was mocking laughter and clapping from those around her that had seen. She blushed of course, not used to being the center of attention in a large group. With sympathy, Shannon handed over her car keys so that Dylan could get a dry shirt from her knapsack. The poor girl hurried from the club and down the alleyway to where the car was parked. The driver’s side door was closest and she figured she could reach her bag from there. But as she leaned over to unlock the door, she felt something hard poke her in the back.
She stiffened at once, wondering if one of the guys from school was playing some sick little joke on her. Until she heard the voice. "Nice car, luv." She shivered involuntarily. The cool British drawl made her insides freeze. "Now be a nice little bird and get in." She didn’t move. "Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you." She knew immediately that that was a lie. But with the thing in her back, was it a gun? She didn’t see that she had much choice. She opened the car door and slid in. "Move on over," came the next command. She obediently climbed into the passenger seat, picking up her knapsack out of the way.
Her attacker slid in after her, softly yanking the door shut with a quiet click. Dylan’s mind was racing. How on earth was she going to get out of this? But then, her assailant turned to her, and she knew she wasn’t. "Keys, luv," he smirked, holding out her hands. She turned her head slowly, her heart almost stopping. For there, in the driver’s seat of her best friend’s car was Spike. William the Bloody. The color drained from her face as she shakily handed over the keys. She watched in morbid fascination as he withdrew his left hand from the pocket of his duster and gripped the steering wheel while his other hand inserted the key into the ignition. He smoothly started the vehicle and pulled away from the curb, attracting no undue attention in the normality of his actions.
They’d been driving for about ten minutes when Dylan finally found the courage to speak. "W-where are we going?" she asked, her voice husky from fear.
"Oh, don’t worry luv," Spike grinned. "We aren’t going far." Dylan gaped at him. He was being so gentle with her. She’d been expecting him to attack her from the first moment he’d slid into the car. But some rationale part of her mind that was caustically commenting on everything reasonably pointed out that he was probably driving her to some deserted spot to enjoy a leisurely meal.
"You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?" she asked in a tiny voice. Shockingly, he made a surprised sound, and his right hand quickly patted her on the knee. He seemed to try and make the movement comforting, but for Dylan, whose nerves she was barely hanging onto, it was a threatening gesture. She jumped at the contact, then shrank away from him. He gave her a patronizing look, then turned his attention back to the road.
"As a matter of fact," he smiled evilly, "I’m not going to kill you." Well, that was a switch. He was a killer. That was generally what killers did Or had he come up with a new word for what he did to his victims?
"Then what do you want with me?" she gasped as soon as she said those words. Visions of fates aside from death began to play through her mind. There were other things depraved maniacs did in deserted areas of town. No one could watch the news anymore without hearing about those types of things.
"I’ve got a friend who needs help," Spike shrugged, seeming to enjoy his little game. Dylan realized at once that he was completely unaware that she was aware of the reality of his Vampiric nature. "Woman friend," he elaborated.
"You’re going to help her." Dylan again gaped at his words. Woman friend? She closed her eyes as new despair swept through her. Woman friend. That could only mean…Drusilla. Damn! She was definitely dead.
Spike pulled into what appeared to be a factory parking lot. He left the keys in the vehicle and exited gracefully. Dylan watched in morbid fascination as he walked around the front to her door. It was pulled open and he waited a moment before making an imperious gesture. She shakily obeyed, wondering how quickly he’d catch her if she ran. She briefly considered slamming him over the head with the knapsack still in her hands. But as it was only heavy from clothes, and not say, a lot of bricks, she knew it wouldn’t help. It would only serve to royally piss him off. And it was too late anyway. Three others had wandered outside at the noise of the vehicle approaching.
Spike grabbed her by the closest upper arm and began to drag her stumbling form towards the building. "Get rid of the car," he ordered the others. "Far away from here. Don’t want it found too quickly." The others put their heads together for a small conference, but Dylan’s attention was shifted away from them as Spike pushed her through the entryway. "Dru luv? I’m home."
*****
Angel was trying to smother a chuckle. Dylan of course noticed and raised an eyebrow at him. "I’m sorry," he apologized quickly. "It’s just… I’m very surprised that Spike actually was paying attention to details." Dylan laughed as well.
"Yeah," she agreed. "Not a lot of his plans worked out so well." She paused for a moment, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her mug. "I found out later that his minions drove in two cars to LA. They dumped Shannon’s car in a bad section of town. I guess the criminal element made short work of it."
"That’s not surprising," Angel shrugged.
"Well, by doing that, they made it look as if I had run away," Dylan explained.
"The cops talked to my friends, whose last memories were of me being humiliated. And since Shannon’s car was gone, they just naturally assumed I’d show up somewhere eventually."
"I really doubt that Spike thought that out," Angel smiled again. His grandchilde’s forays into logical thought could sometimes be astounding in the way they went wrong.
"Nope," Dylan sighed. "His only thought was taking care of Dru."
Chapter Five
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