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The Trouble That Tomorrow Brings

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Summary: When Dawn Summers begins her freshman year at Cal-Sci, the last thing she expected was to find something that felt a little bit like family: especially after what had happened with Buffy.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Numb3rs > Dawn - Centered(Past Donor)gemmiFR72222,16211178111,0071 Jun 0724 Sep 07No

Part One

Title:The Trouble that Tomorrow Brings
Author: Gemmi999
Prompt: # 7 School
Crossover: BtVS/Numbers
Rating: PG (for now)
Word Count:962
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, chances are I don't own it.
Summery: “It’s alright—I don’t want to tear you away from the pages of the newest fashions. Just wanted to say hi,” Charlie stood still, leaning back onto the row of chairs behind him. He loved meeting new students, but he wished they wouldn’t bring other materials into class.

INSPIRED by: Conference Wives a Numb3rs slash story. By inspired, I mean--Conference Wives is a drabble novel, a novel told in short bursts when the author had time or was inspired. I want to do the same with with The Trouble That Tomorrow Brings


Dawn checked the online schedule-of-classes once more before leaving her dorm room. Calculus with Dr. Eppes was being held in lecture hall 78B—all the way across campus. Not that Cal-Sci had a really large campus, but still. Dawn took a breath, gathered her school supplies and travel coffee mug, and left the dorm room all while mentally cursing herself. She’d survived vampires, demons, hellmouths, and potentials: but math would be her undoing. She just knew it.

Just her luck that Cal-Sci required two years of math in order to graduate, it could have been worse though--she’d been accepted to the Cleveland Institute of Technology, and that required four years of math. Buffy had almost made her go there, too. It had taken some fast talking to get Buffy to see that Cal-Sci was in a perfectly acceptable location, especially given its proximity to Xander.

So Dawn was on her way to Calculus, it was only 9am, and the coffee she made in her dorm-room hadn’t kicked in yet. Maybe the whole “college” thing wasn’t for her: checking in daily with the Council’s LA branch; calling Buffy at least three times a week to tell her personally that Dawn still hadn’t been kidnapped; math. There were other things she could do, the LA branch of the Council probably needed an administrative assistant that could also read Ancient Sumerian. Plus, Xander was in charge of the branch. He’d totally help her out—he hadn’t gone to college, either.

But no, that wasn’t what she wanted to do. Not that there wasn’t anything wrong with saving the world, and she would always volunteer in case of apocalyptic situations, but she wanted more. She wanted to have a PHD in Ancient Languages, she wanted to work on translating ancient artifacts, stuff that wasn’t related to the occult. Buffy had pushed her so often in the direction that Dawn had actually taken her up on the offer.

By this point, Dawn was at the lecture hall. The room wasn’t crowded, but there were still at least 15 minutes before the class started: she had wanted to find the perfect seat. In high school she’d sat in the back (when she bothered attending class), but her new philosophy was “try harder”. It had the added bonus of being short, to the point, and easy to remember: thus, she sat in the second row, dead center.

She had two sharp pencils, a notebook, and her cell phone set on vibrate. There was always the possibility of an apocalypse during math, it paid to look on the bright side of things. Satisfied, Dawn took a magazine out of her purse and began reading, head hunched over the glossy pages.

“Normally people wait until I’ve started lecturing before tuning me out,” an amused voice commented over Dawn’s shoulder. She jerked up and looked slightly ashamed.

“Sorry, didn’t notice you,” she muttered.

“It’s alright—I don’t want to tear you away from the pages of the newest fashions. Just wanted to say hi,” Charlie stood still, leaning back onto the row of chairs behind him. He loved meeting new students, but he wished they wouldn’t bring other materials into class.

At this, Dawn looked slightly offended. Sure, she was a teenager, but that didn’t mean she was fashion obsessed. She was actually reading the quarterly report for some obscure archeology journal: Giles had a question about their translation of something.

“Lecture hasn’t started yet, and my employer asked me to check a translation,” Dawn replied calmly, showing the cover of the journal. Charlie’s eyes widened, nearly comically.

“What languages do you translate?”

Dawn wondered how to answer this—she didn’t want to appear to be bragging, but she did speak a lot of languages: “well, this one is Ancient Latvian.”

Now Charlie’s eyes did widen, considerably: “you speak Ancient Latvian?” to which Dawn shook her head.

“No, but people don’t really speak ancient languages. I can piece together what it says based upon prior experiences with the language and my resources, but I don’t speak it per say.”

Charlie nodded in understanding. “So what languages do you speak fluently?”

Dawn sighed—people always wanted to know what languages she spoke, as if it was hard. Sure, it took dedication, but it was basically memorization. “Russian, Hebrew, Mandarin and Cantonese, Italian, Spanish, French, and I’m learning German.” The expression on Professor Eppes face spoke volumes. “I’m not bragging, its just—languages come naturally to me. I lived for a while in Italy, so I learned Italian; took Spanish and French throughout high school, and my sister sent me on missions to Russia and China, had to learn the language.”

Charlie nodded at this, before looking at the student in front of him. She looked like a normal teenager: she had blue streaks in her brunette hair, was wearing jeans and a tight fitting top, and had her supplies already laid out (along with the required cell phone). He’d have to speak to the class about that, he hated people getting phone calls in the middle of a lecture. “Missions?” Charlie’s voice rose slightly, as if he wasn’t sure that he actually wanted to hear what Dawn would say.

“Mmm.” Dawn absently agreed, knowing that silence would often deter people from further inquiry.

“Okay then.” Charlie “Nice talking to you—would you mind stopping by my office hours later today?” Was the final comment before he descended the stairs and began pacing the front of the room. Dawn groaned to herself—this was exactly what she’d hoped to avoid: earning a teacher’s attention. Once they knew who you were, they were much more likely to pay attention to your grade. Not a good thing necessarily.

Dawn sighed and looked at the teacher—at least he was kind of cute.
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