The bedroom was something of mess. Left in disarray, half-packed boxes were stacked on the floor while others had been pushed against the walls. There was no sign of life, either working to tidy the disorder or otherwise.

"I'm outta here," Buffy called as she moved down the hallway toward her room. "Riley and I are going to the movies."

"Okay," her mother returned. "Have a good time."

An intense glow suddenly bathed the hallway beyond Buffy's bedroom. It was fleeting and lasted no more than a heartbeat before seeming to be sucked back the way it came. A moment later, Buffy crossed the threshold and immediately froze, her features registering utter shock. In front of the window, rifling through one of the cardboard containers was Dawn. She ceased her ransacking as Buffy entered, raising her head to look at the doorway.

An expression of incredulity crossed Buffy face. "What are you doing in here?"

Dawn opened her mouth to reply, but Joyce's voice could be heard once more. "Buffy? If you're going out, why don't you take your sister with you?"

There was a pause before both girls turned toward the open door.

"Mom!" they protested in unison.

"Good," came the cheerful reply. "I'm glad that's settled."

Buffy refocused on Dawn, eyes narrowed with suspicion. The younger girl returned the angry glare in kind.

"You're stealing my stuff, you little klepto," accused Buffy.

"As if," scoffed Dawn with a roll of her eyes. "Like I want anything from the Britney wannabe collection."

Buffy crossed her arms. "Oh, so you just came to admire the view?"

"And wonder how anybody could live like this," sneered Dawn. "Is being a total pig some Slayer thing, or is it just you?"

Dawn stiffened a little as Buffy took a menacing step toward her, but then Joyce appeared in the doorway, holding out a necklace.

"Fasten me up?" she asked Buffy with a smile.

Her glower never faltering, Buffy took the necklace. Joyce turned and lifted her hair from the nape of her neck. "So what are you guys going to see?" she questioned.

"I dunno," replied Buffy, snapping the clasp. "Did they come out with '1000 Ways to Kill Your Sister' yet? Cuz I keep getting stuck at 653 and could use the inspiration."

Dawn just had time to toss her sister a fully-loaded look indicating exactly how very funny she found that remark before Joyce glanced over her shoulder with a frown.

"Buffy," she said disapprovingly. "Be nice."

"Trust me," Buffy assured, "compared to what I'm thinking, I should be sainted any second now."

Dawn folded her arms firmly across her chest. "Like seeing a movie with you and Riley is anything but a one-way ticket to Barfsville." She turned to Joyce, eager to share her insider's viewpoint. "They don't come up for air until the movie's like almost over." Her eyes narrowed in Buffy's direction once more. "And you hog the popcorn."

Buffy's jaw dropped several inches and she appeared about to vehemently protest when Joyce spoke again.

"Buffy, buy Dawn her own popcorn."

Aghast, Buffy geared up to launch into an even more violent objection, but Joyce didn't give her the opportunity.

"Please," she urged. "Just take your sister to the movies. Have a nice time." She paused. "Or at least try to have a nice time."

With a huge puff and no sign of good grace, Buffy grudgingly relented. Her disgruntled pout was uncannily similar to Dawn's expression.

"What a blessing, to have two loving children," commented Joyce with more than a hint of sarcasm. She made her way to the door. "I'll be back by eight."

For a moment, both girls watched her departure and then, with another roll of the eyes, Dawn returned to sifting through the contents of the box she'd opened.

"So we'll go see what?" she asked with overt cheeriness. "'The Adventures of Violent Army Guy and his Ho Bag Girlfriend'?"

Reaching out, Buffy slapped down the cardboard flaps, effectively bringing a halt to Dawn's snooping spree.

"We're not leaving until you answer me," she warned with deceptive calm. "Why are you here?"

Why?

Dawn opened her eyes.

Seated in a comfortable chair within the Sanctum, Dawn shifted restlessly and then sighed. Placed upon a small stool, directly across the room from her line of vision, was a carved wooden statue of either a very small demon horse, or a very large demon rat. Upon sighting its presence, an expression of disappointment crept over Dawn's features.

"I'm sorry," she muttered miserably.

The words had barely left her mouth before Giles was there at her side.

"No, no, nothing to apologize for," he gently assured. "It will, of course, take time for- for your powers and abilities to fully balance." He smiled encouragingly. "You're doing extremely well."

"Which means ..." Willow leaned forward to slap something on the back of Dawn's hand. She beamed as though she'd just presented Dawn with the Holy Grail.

Glancing down, Dawn noted a large gold star resting on her skin. She regarded Willow dubiously before murmuring, "Thanks."

"How you doing?" inquired Buffy, also taking up a position next to her sister's chair.

Dawn could only give a dejected shrug, and Buffy frowned in concern. She stroked Dawn's hair while Giles turned to Willow questioningly.

"Did you detect anything?"

"No with a side of yes?" Willow offered. "It's ... There's something," she tried to clarify, "but i-it's like it's locked up. You know, to use the obvious metaphor. But it's definitely there."

Thoughtfully, Giles' attention returned to Dawn.

"Practice is the key, I think," he told her, and then immediately grimaced at the inadvertent pun. "We simply need to keep at it. Once you have control over more rudimentary applications, we can move to—"

"I don't want to move," was the subdued response.

Giles blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"No moving," reiterated Dawn. "No more tests. No more staring, no more witchy physicals. It's been like this for a whole week! 'Dawn, move that here.' 'Dawn, create a portal there.' It's like my life is go to school, do homework, then sit here all night and stare at this ugly thing." She gestured toward the statue, but Giles had little time to argue its artistic merits. "I'm sick of it!" she declared forcefully.

Her eyes challenged every inhabitant of the room.

"I understand that this must be frustrating for you," began Giles, soothing yet firm, "but now that these powers have awakened, you have a responsibility to- to understand and control them."

"I'm the Key, right?" Dawn countered. "I've had a few thousand years or doing nothing but controlling it."

"Then I'm confident you'll demonstrate that control very soon now," returned Giles.

Dawn bristled like a bird whose feathers had been ruffled, but before she could express her feelings on that score, Buffy interceded.

"I think a break right about now is called for," she said hastily. "What do you think, Will?"

"Oh, yeah, break. Definitely," agreed Willow. She yawned widely and then stretched out her arms in an exaggerated fashion. "I have all sorts of breaky needs."

A deep crease appeared on Giles' forehead. "I don't think that's wise. We need to remain focused on our lessons until Dawn can exhibit at least rudimentary command over her abilities."

"Okay, Simon Legree," said Buffy, her lips becoming tight, "wanna lighten up a little?"

"She is the Key and her powers are very real," lectured Giles as he began to march back and forth. "We cannot afford to 'lighten up'."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "She's just a kid, Giles, what do you—"

"I'm not a kid!" exploded Dawn. "And I'm not just the Key! I'm Dawn." Her hands clenched into tight fists. "I'm Dawn. When did everybody forget that?"

The room was silent and even Giles stopped pacing.

Dawn shook her head. "God, I don't even want to be here, I want to go—"

And go she did. With a blinding flash. In mid-sentence.

Alarmed, Buffy stared at the now vacant chair. "Dawn?!"

"So that'd be a yes on the break issue," said Willow slowly.

Buffy whirled to face the others. "Where is she? Where did she go?"

"Excellent questions," Giles muttered aloud as he inspected the seat that had, until moments ago, contained an irate teenager.

"Yes!" exclaimed Buffy. "And now I'd like a side dish of answers!"

"I was tuned in pretty well, but I got nothing," informed Willow with a slight frown. "She didn't broadcast where she was goin'. She didn't broadcast she was going. I think this was as much a shock to her."

Buffy put her hands on her hips and glared at where Dawn wasn't. "No, I think I have the corner market on shock right now."

Tentatively, Willow stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulder. "I'm sure she'll be okay. Dawnie's a- a resourceful and mature girl." Her eyes darted to the side and at the empty chair. "You know, when she's not throwin' a fit and vanishing on us."

Giles straightened from the inspection and removed his glasses. "Regardless, I'm fairly certain panicking is not the solution."

"Yeah, but I always feel better," grumbled Buffy, before her expression become one of concern. "How are we gonna find her?"

The lenses having passed inspection, Giles slipped his glasses on once more. "I don't know that we can," he replied. "There are, quite literally, an infinite number of places Dawn could choose as her destination."

"Oh, I hate this," moaned Buffy, slumping into the seat recently occupied by Dawn.

"Maybe we can get her a satellite tracker," suggested Willow. Her eyes grew bright. "Oo! You could inject her with a little bar code scanner thingie, like for dogs!" She motioned toward the back of her neck, where such an object would likely be injected.

Buffy was far from amused.

"Or, not," Willow quickly retracted.

"So what do we do?" demanded Buffy, becoming more anxious with every passing moment.

"Willow, perhaps you can do a location spell," Giles advised, "see if we can confirm if Dawn is still in the area."

With a brisk nod, Willow started to gather supplies.

"Other than that," continued Giles, "I suppose we must hope for a speedy tantrum."

Buffy massages her temples and sighed heavily. "Sometimes I just want things the way they used to be. Before the Key stuff and the Slayer stuff, when it was just me and Mom and Dawn ..." Her voice trailed away and, mournfully, she looked up at Giles "Except, we never had that, did we?"

Giles didn't reply. There was truly nothing to say.

The sun was a perfectly round orange balloon in the early evening sky. The neighborhood street was deserted and nobody was present to note the abrupt flash of brilliant green that left Dawn in its wake. She was still talking even though there was now nobody to hear.

"—someplace where I don't have ... to ..."

Dawn's mouth clamped shut. She kept her head still, but her eyes darted first to the left and then to the right. With a frown, she carefully took stock of her surroundings.

"Huh," she muttered curiously, apparently considering the possibilities before pulling the cell phone from her pocket. She punched a number on the speed dial and then waited for a voice to answer.

"Tara?" she questioned and then nodded. "Yeah. Hey, can you call Buffy and tell her that I’m okay and not to freak?" She listened patiently for a moment. "Yeah. ... No, nothing. ... No. ... I don’t wanna deal with all that right now, so I—" She paused. "Yeah, but you can tell her and it has the added bonus of me not having to talk to her right now." Anxiously, Dawn shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Please? I just need a bit of me-time. I'll be home again in a few hours, I swear."

Her expression grew hopeful and then she grinned.

"Thankyouthankyou, you're the best!" She listened again intently, and then nodded, even though the action couldn't be seen. "A few hours, that's it," she promised. "Thank you!"

Snapping the cover over her phone, Dawn returned it to her pocket. She seemed quite pleased with herself and took a deep breath, the kind that could only come from having been relieved of a huge burden. Then she narrowed her eyes and concentrated. Her total preoccupation lasted for several seconds, but nothing untoward happened. She sniffed peevishly and muttered with incoherent annoyance before accepting defeat and resigning herself to simply walking down the street.

She hadn't gone too far when she reached a house she recognized. She rang the bell and then rapped upon the door before stepping back. She smiled brightly as it opened, revealing a face she knew very well.

"Hey!" Grip greeted with delight.

"Hey," returned Dawn.

"Look at you." He grinned widely. "I nearly forgot what you looked like, it's been so long."

Dawn gave him her best exaggerated pout. "I leave that much of an impression, huh?"

"Well luckily I have your picture in my wallet," he confided. "And on my bedside table. And blown up and put on my ceiling. So you're still vaguely familiar." His tone became sincere. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too."

"So you're free now?" Grip asked hopefully. "No more ..." He searched for an appropriate way to describe Dawn's recent activities but failed to find a satisfactory answer. "...whatever that keeps you busy, like, always?"

Dawn thought about that for a moment, seeming to ask the same question of herself.

"Yeah," she nodded confidently. "Yeah, I am."

It was exactly what Grip wanted to hear.

"How about you, are you free?" ventured Dawn.

"I am now," he assured. "Mom and Dad took Ant to visit my grandparents, so I'm all yours. What do you wanna do?"

A small smile began to creep its way across Dawn's face. "Do you know you're the first person to ask me that?"

"Then I guess you have an answer all ready for me," said Grip, reaching behind the door to grab a jacket and his keys. Throwing an arm around Dawn's shoulders, he escorted her to his car.

Hand-in-hand, the couple walked through the park. The sun was threatening to disappear for the day, but it still hovered lazily on the horizon for the time being, bathing the area in a soft, warm glow. The pair chatted happily as they strolled along the gravel pathway. Talking about nothing in particular, they simply enjoyed each other's company.

Pausing for a moment, they watched a young man playing Frisbee with his dog and then Grip dragged Dawn toward a fountain. She laughed a protest, but Grip was undeterred. Water spouted rhythmically from the open mouth of a marble dolphin to splash merrily into the small pool. Fishing into his pocket for two coins, Grip presented one to Dawn, thought for a brief moment and then flipped his own into the water. It broke the surface with a rippling "kerplosh." Dawn looked down at the coin nestled in her open palm, but made no motion to follow suit. A tiny frown creased Grip's forehead.

"Go ahead," he encouraged. "Wishes never come true if you never make 'em."

Dawn smiled with a hint of sadness. "I don't wish."

"Get out," Grip refuted, squeezing her hand. "Everybody wishes."

"I don't," replied Dawn. "You never know who's listening."

Grip chuckled, assuming the statement had been made as a joke, but the seriousness in Dawn's eyes told him otherwise. He looked puzzled, but quickly shook off the feeling and took back his coin.

"Then I'll make one for you," he said firmly.

He thought for a minute before tossing the coin into the air. It spiraled gracefully before landing in the water. The couple watched in silence as it sank into the depths of the fountain and for several moments after. Eventually, Grip seized Dawn's hand once more and tugged her toward the nearby children's playground.

"Come swing me," he demanded.

Taking a seat upon one of the swings, he grabbed the chains and started to jerk them back an forth like an impatient toddler. "Swing me!" he ordered with a grin.

An expression of amusement crossed Dawn's face. "Shouldn't you be swinging me?"

"Uh-uh. I believe in full equality of the sexes."

Shaking her head, Dawn took hold of Grip's belt and pulled him backward before pushing.

"I warn you that I might start 'Wheee!'ing any time," he cautioned, pumping with his long legs.

Grip waited for a smart-mouth response, but it never materialized. Dawn continued to push, but her thoughts were obviously elsewhere and it didn't take long for Grip to notice. He slowed the swing's arc, dragging his feet along the dirt until he came to a complete stop.

"I guess I shouldn't ask if that was good for you too," he said, turning in the seat to face her.

Dawn blinked. "I've had a really great time."

Something in her tone put Grip on edge. "Why do I sense there's a 'but' in there just dying to get out?" he queried, kicking up small puffs of dust with the toe of his sneaker.

"No 'but'," Dawn promised without hesitation.

But Grip was far from convinced and Dawn's lack of further conversation did little to ease the situation. Hopping off the swing, he offered it to her but she refused with a shake of her head, fingers clasped together behind her back.

"You can keep going," she told him.

"Full equality, remember?" reminded Grip, offering the swing once again.

With a tiny smile, Dawn relented and lowered herself into the seat. Pulling back on the chains, Grip released her, delivering hefty pushes until Dawn was soaring high. Throwing back her head, she closed her eyes and relished the rush of cool air that enveloped her as she flew back and forth. With a grin of satisfaction, Grip took the swing next to her and within moments was matching her sweep with almost exact precision.

"Grip?" Dawn questioned breathlessly, glancing in his direction.

"Yeah?"

"When you look at me ... what do you see?"

Grip was instantly wary, but maintained a jestful air. "This a trick question? Some boyfriend trap, cleverly designed to make sure I can't possibly escape in one piece?"

"No trap."

The swings began to slow as Grip answered the question with full confidence.

"I see Dawn Summers. She's smart – super-brain, but not in the braces and polyester way." He flashed her his best charming smile. "Great sense of humor, leaning toward the sarcastic side. Giving, but not a pushover. I think she could take me in a fight." He smirked, as much to himself as to Dawn. "I think she could take me anyway she wanted." His expression became something less than playful as he paused for a long moment. "She has the most gorgeous smile ever put on the earth."

By now, both swings had all but stopped and the pair was almost stationary. Dawn's cheeks were burning at Grip's compliments and the blush was radiant against her skin. Her eyes were fixed on Grip's face as it reflected open admiration. As for Grip, he seemed to be equally entranced.

"I see someone who's made my life better just by being in it," continued Grip softly. "I see someone I lo—"

He abruptly stopped short, breaking the moment.

"I see someone asking some really weird stuff today," he added with a sly grin.

"Is that all you see?" pressed Dawn.

Grip raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You want more? Cuz I can start whipping out the cheese."

"No, I mean ..." Dawn sighed. "You don't see anything else?"

"Are you sure this isn't a boyfriend trap?" he asked suspiciously.

Dawn emphatically shook her head.

Grip frowned, completely at a loss. "I see you. What else am I supposed to see?"

Appearing to be genuinely happy with the announcement, Dawn treated him to a delighted smile. Grip's confusion persisted, but he was powerless not to return the gesture.

"You know I don't understand you," he said in all seriousness. "You know that, right?"

"It doesn't matter."

Grip shrugged good-naturedly. "If you say so."

Dawn looked up into the sky. It was becoming darker and glimmering twinkles could be seen in the dusk. She shivered a little. "We should get going."

"Already?" asked Grip with a hint of disappointment. "It feels like we only just started."

But Dawn was adamant in her decision, rising to her feet and making her way out of the playground. Grip had no choice but to follow. Night was now falling rapidly and Dawn picked up the pace as she headed toward the park exit.

"We should come out here some night," said Grip, catching up with her and encircling her waist with his arm. He held her close. "Watch the stars or some other appropriately romantic idea."

"That'd be awesome," agreed Dawn, before adding, "Dangerous, though."

"I dunno," replied Grip cheerily. "I always look at night as pretty much like day, only with worse lighting."

Upon reaching the car, Grip went to unlock the passenger door but then hesitated. Turning around, he cupped Dawn's chin in his palm and tilted her face to his own. His expression was sober.

"Before I take you home in a gentlemanly fashion, I wanted to say something."

Dawn frowned somewhat apprehensively. "Okay ..."

"Lately I've been sort of feeling like you're avoiding me." Dawn's mouth instantly opened as though she was about to vehemently disagree, but Grip placed a forefinger over her lips. "I know, I know. Impossible, right? I mean, just the idea of not wanting to spend every waking moment with me must be blowing your mind. But hey, I'm a guy of the new millennium, with feelings and everything. There it is." He shrugged. "But then you showed up today and ... it was nice." He smiled down at her. "Great. Better than great. I left my thesaurus at home, or I'd actually have a word here."

Gently, Dawn removed the restriction and the pair's fingers entwined. "I haven't been avoiding you, I swear," she told him. "I just seems like every time I turn around, there's something else that I have to do. Important stuff, like ..."

Grip was hanging on every word, but Dawn's voice trailed away, as though she knew she could provide no feasible explanation.

"Like stuff," she concluded, well aware of how lame it sounded. Grip's expression became crestfallen. "But today," she hastened to add, "for the first time in what feels like forever, you made me happy to be me. Just me." She tightly squeezed his fingers. "Thank you."

Grip's beaming smile outshone the full moon overhead. All traces of his former deflation vanished as he leaned forward. Closing her eyes, Dawn raised her face to eagerly embrace the welcoming kiss.

The car slid to a halt outside the Scoobies' house. Grip and Dawn sat in silence for a moment.

"I'd invite you back to my place for movies and an entirely chaste sleepover," said Grip with a broad grin, "but I'm thinking your sister would shatter me into a thousand pieces."

"Probably literally," agreed Dawn, rolling her eyes.

Grip nodded. "Safer for us all, then."

Their lips met, long and lingering, then Dawn reached for the handle and opened the door. Grip watched until she arrived at the front step. Turning, she gave him a wave that he promptly returned before driving away. Dawn's gaze followed the vehicle until it rounded the corner. Straightening her shoulders, she refocused on the house and let out a quick puff of air.

"Okay. The quicker I can do this, the quicker I can stop, so let's—"

Her eyes narrowed with concentration and she waited expectantly. Nothing happened.

"Dammit," she muttered irritably.

With a heavy sigh, she was obliged to enter the old-fashioned way. She didn't notice the green glow emanating from the window of Dr. Joseph's side door. Nor was she aware of the flickers that glimmered behind the lace curtain, reminiscent of indistinct bodies moving back and forth in torchlight.