: I did not create and do not own these characters. BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. I'm not entirely sure who NCIS LA belongs to (Shane Brennan? David Bellisario?) but I'm quite clear that it's not mine.
Kensie glanced over toward the entrance. There was a minor commotion, which was unusual in itself. Security here was good enough that anyone who might make a scene generally didn’t make it through the door.
“She just followed me in!” she heard Callen splutter.
That alone would have been unusual enough to get the attention of anyone in range. Callen being followed? And sounding flustered? This
she had to see.
“I so don’t have time for this. I need to talk to my cousin, now
,” a cranky voice announced.
Kensie frowned. Something about that voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. The woman who went with the voice was standing with her back to her, and she didn’t recognize her from behind.
“Look, Miss-“ Nate tried soothingly, only to be cut off.
“Save it. I know she works here. You’re wasting my time, and I don’t like people who waste my time.”
“Really? Why is that?”
Kensie could tell from his tone that Nate had just shifted into analysis mode.
The woman turned slightly, and Kensie could see part of her face now- enough to watch her narrow her eyes. Nate held his ground, but he was definitely thinking about taking a step back…
“I also don’t like shrinks.”
Hetty had arrived to restore order. Kensie sat back to watch the show. This should be good.
“Oh my god, Hetty Lange?” the other woman squealed. “No way! I didn’t know you were with NCIS!”
By the tone, you’d think she’d just spotted her favorite movie star.
Hetty looked slightly bemused.
“I am, Miss-?”
“Summers. Oh my god, you’re nothing like what I imagined. Did you know you’re featured in at least three Watchers’ journals? Oh, sorry. Not the priority right now. Storytime later. Work first. I really need to talk to Kensie. I don’t want to make this official if I don’t have to.”
That was when it clicked. Summers. Her Aunt Joyce’s married name. She hadn’t seen either of her cousins since the funeral. This had to be-
“Dawn?” Kensie asked.
Dawn turned to her, what could only be called awe fading to a relieved grin.
“Kensie! About time. Everyone since I got in the door has been trying to claim you didn’t work here!”
“Dawn, what are you doing here? How did you even find this place?” Kensie demanded. She was torn between astonished, aggravated, and a little bit amused.
“In reverse order, I followed boy wonder there. He’s really not as smooth as he thinks. I’m here because Buffy and Willow are missing in South America. They didn’t make their morning check-in.”
Kensie did her best not to laugh at the look of outrage on Callen’s face at Dawn’s matter of fact statement. It was good to know there was at least one other female on earth unimpressed by Callen.
“Well, then, maybe you should contact the embassy of the country they were last seen in,” Callen said in annoyance. “We don’t do missing persons unless they’re Marines or Navy personnel.”
“Cute,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes at him. “But you’ll make an exception for this. Anyway, Kens, I need up to the minute satellite imagery to at least 5m resolution of these coordinates, stat.”
She waved a printout, which had several red circles on it.
“We are not going to-“ Callan snapped.
“Yes, we are,” Hetty said firmly, overruling whatever objection Callen had been about to make.
“We are?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised. He had been an observer up until now, trying to work out who Dawn Summers was-aside from Kensie’s cousin- before jumping in.
“We are,” Hetty repeated. “Firstly, because I don’t want to hear the roars of outrage from the Pentagon if we don’t cooperate with Miss Summers. I’m not certain, but I should imagine she has several Generals and an Admiral or two on speed dial, even if she would prefer not to bother them before lunch.”
Everyone looked at Dawn, who gave them a smug smile that neither confirmed nor denied anything, but did hint rather strongly.
“And secondly,” Hetty continued, “because I owe young Rupert several favors.”
“Giles?” Dawn squeaked. “You know… of course you know Giles. Silly question. I totally want to hear stories after I get a look at the satellite data. Lead the way, Kens.”
She gave Kensie the same brilliant grin she used to give her as a kid. A kid who had always followed her around like a puppy dog on their rare visits to Aunt Joyce’s.
Kensie had so many questions she didn’t even know where to start, but at Hetty’s imperious gesture, she led Dawn up toward Eric’s domain. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Callen and Sam both had the open mouthed expression she usually associated with Hetty having surprised them again. From the looks of it, Dawn wasn’t the only one who wanted to hear stories after she got whatever she wanted from them.