Dawn grinned along with Sylvia's rant all through the drive -- of the people in the car, Dawn was possibly the only one not intimidated by the girl. Perhaps that was something to do with a shared state of 'alpha-female'; clearly the two girls were the bosses in this car. Jordan might be deciding where they drove, but that wasn't much compared to what an idle -- perhaps slightly grating word -- from Sylvia or Dawn could provoke. Sylvia and Dawn could take out wizards, they could certainly take inconvenient complaining or resisting male friends down a peg.

In time, however, Sylvia's ranting faded into the background, and the redheads thoughts returned to her father. He'd be alright, of course. He and Annabel. He'd probably have a nice pile of wizards waiting for them when they got there, and he'd meet them on the drive with that wild smile of his, that made it oh-so-obvious that he'd been up to no good. The smile that made his beard curl just like that, and always made Dawn laugh, no matter the situation.

"Hey. You're not a Wizard too, are you?"

Dawn looked up with a blink at Jordan's touch, glancing over at her friend with a slightly distant expression for a few moments before registering what he'd said. The girl chuckled quietly, a single 'heh' and a smile. Hit and miss indeed. But that was alright, because Jordan kept going, and (probably without knowing it, entirely) said just what Dawn needed to hear. At the bagpipes comment Dawn laughed -- a proper laugh, this time, and punched the grinning idiot on the arm.

"I know, don't worry. I'm fine. He'll be fine. I mean, you're alive, and you're a wuss, right?" she teased, returning the grin.

Dawn settled back into listening to Sylvia's little rant, occasionally snickering - none the more so than at her comments regarding Logan.

"Are you telling me you had no idea she's been stalking you since middle school, just like every other female specimen in the tri-county area?"

"Wow, really?"

"Yes, really." Dawn interjected with a smirk, glancing over her shoulder at the boy. "This morning, at the smoothie shack?" This morning? It felt like last month... "Didn't you notice that crowd of gawking nitwits gathered around you, with Nikki Charmeena-balls-of-fire-whatever at their head?" The redhead turned back around, chuckling. "You really are just a pretty face, aren't you? Nothing beneath those curls but bone and air..."

Thinking back on the happenings at the mall, Dawn didn't notice the smoke that Jordan spotted until they topped the rise.

At first, she didn't quite believe it. Maybe she wouldn't let herself believe it -- but for the first few seconds, as they approached the burning ruin that was her home, it didn't register in Dawn's mind that this was her home at all. She stared all the same; a burning building drew the eye after all, and it was only as the truck pulled up outside the gate that she realised just what she was seeing meant.

Flashbacks went through the girl's head of days spent running through the house's gardens, and hallways, playing games of hide-and-seek with her father. Her mother sitting by the fireplace at christmas, one of the rare occasions when the woman came to visit. Dawn sat under the tree opening presents as a little girl, giggling madly as toys and clothes came out of their wrapping. She remembered sitting on the front porch - the one she now saw splintered, charred, with remnants of the door frame scattered over it - on warm summers days with Jordan and her other friends, exchanging stories and licking ice creams, the warmth of the sun on their faces.

The only warmth on Dawn's face now was from the fire, as it vaguely dawned on her that she was running. Moving up the driveway, vague whispers of "No" and incoherent prayers passing her lips without thought. She remembered when she'd first come outside on her seventeenth birthday to find her bike waiting on the drive, her father standing beside it proudly, that smile of proud mischief on his face.

That smile, the one that made his beard curl just like that.

"Oh God no..." Her own voice, again, cutting through the crackling of the fire and bouncing around her head a dozen times over. Where was he? He'd have escaped the fire, of course -- he probably dodged a fireball, and it hit the house, and he had to get out. But what if he was in there? Dawn didn't even feel the heat any more, not consciously anyway. She had to get inside, to get inside and find him, and save the memories -- the box of memories.

Another flashback, her mother smiling down at a still young Dawn as she slid a shoebox into a cabinet. "There! Now it's all safe, for when you miss something in it, or when we want to remember all the best times..."

A time capsule for themselves, not for the future, with photos and keepsakes stowed away within. They'd been put away to keep them safe. But now what? They were probably ashes...

"No!"

Jordan's cry was distant, another world. She wasn't stopping now. Every semblance of the hardened and fiery Dawn was gone now, tears running freely. Her home was burning. Her father nowhere to be seen -- nowhere with that knowing smile, that mischievous grin. The one that made his beard curl just like that...

Then his arm was around her middle, and she was being pulled back. No! "Let go of me!" she screamed, her voice broken through sobs and coughing from the smoke, her face blackened by smoke and wet with tears "No... I've got to find him!" she cried, punching her hands into her friend, over and over, pounding at his arms and chest even as his arms wrapped fully around her and pulled her back, away from the heat and the smoke. Dawn's protests, kicks and punches became steadily weaker as she was pulled away from the house front, until they stopped entirely, and the redhead collapsed into wracking sobs, leaning into Jordan and burying her face in his shoulder.

It was all gone. Everything -- all the memories, the little corners and nooks that nobody but she knew about, the hidey holes where she stowed herself away as a child during hide and seek. The knowing smile when her father found her, that made his beard curl up just like that...

"Oh God Jordan.. it's... it's gone, he's gone, where is he? He should be here, they can't have..." Dawn's voice was cracked and stammering. It just went to show that no matter how hard your outer shell, no matter the prowling, vengeful person you were when you were in your element, some things were beyond shells. This was a world where confidence and strength of will meant very little to the people about to burn your face off, and all the shouting in the world couldn't save a life.

Dawn half-collapsed, and Jordan was quick to bend with her. This left his knees smarting on the pavement while Dawn folded into him. She wasn't making sense anymore. Her words had just turned into a tumbled series of vowels all swelling together from the shock. Jordan wrapped his arms tighter around the girl, feeling the wetness of her tears against his neck and smelling the strawberries and smoke in her hair.

The house still burned as freely as ever, and even though they were a 'safe' distance away from the blaze its heat was unforgiving. Jordan wiped sweat from his forehead before it could drip into his eyes. He knelt there with Dawn for what must have been ten minutes; thankful she wasn't hitting him anymore. From the base of the driveway, Logan looked on.

Not that he really saw them. Logan was the picture of emptiness. He stood eyes hooded, fists jammed in his pockets, jaw set. Something coppery filled his mouth; he spat to the side. Blood, from chewing the inside of his lip too hard and not noticing. His entire body felt numb.

’Make Peace With Your God!’

Strange. Even though he had been in the mall when the crisis broke, even though he had watched Nikki -- sorry, Charmena casting fire with her own hands, even though he had lived out an escape scene straight from the Bourne films .. Logan realized it was only in this moment that everything clicked, that everything felt real. Wizards were taking over the world. Funny, right? No one was laughing now.

In contrast to Logan, Sylvia couldn’t seem to stand still. She tried pacing one way, then another – hands snarled in her curls, eyes red and puffy. The girl’s expression was drawn somewhere between horror and disbelief. She had to move! But where? Back to the truck? Over to where Jordan and Dawn?

Sheri stood even further back behind the kids. Her mind was somewhere else completely – thinking perhaps about a fiancé who was a volunteer firefighter, or a mother who lived on the East Side. Her gaze trailed from the flaming house to the crest of a hill where only blue sky could be seen. Perhaps she was wondering what was beyond that hill.

None of them could have known that the Keating’s backyard (once so richly manicured, full of luscious green) was now crisscrossed with swathes of charred black from low-flying fireballs as though a child had angrily taken up a black crayon on paper.

None of them could have known that there were four bodies of four very dead Wizards crumpled here and there like lawn ornaments -- Wizards who had discovered that fire magic was not very good for deflecting bullets.

None of them could have known that a fifth body was not wearing a robe and a hat.

Mr. Keating had made his final stand in the garden about a stone’s throw from the house itself. Flowers had withered from the heat, stone from marble statues was blasted away. Andrew’s body lay half submerged in the fountain, as though he had crawled there in a panic once being lit up like a stuck pig. None of them could have known this, which was almost for the better. The smell of burning flesh would have made them sick.

They couldn’t have known, but somehow they did. Dawn, Sheri, Jordan, Sylvia – even Logan. They knew, but didn’t see. They didn’t want to see.

“Jordan,” Sheri spoke up, now, loud enough to be heard over the roaring and hissing of the fire. “We have to go.”

At these words, Logan was jerked from his trance, Sylvia turned her head blearily, and Jordan gave a small little frown.

“Not every house on the block got burned like this,” the woman kept talking. “And from what you said happened at your house, I can already paint a picture for you. The Wizards came here looking for Dawn’s mother, like they did looking for your mother. Whoever these people are, they’re tying up loose ends and the last thing we need is to give them a sitting set of hostages. We have to go.”

Jordan breathed in, breathed out. It seemed such a simple thing to do, but nothing was simple anymore.

“She’s right. They – we’re not safe here,” oh, shit. His voice was shaking; he had just realized that his own house was probably now in a similar state of disrepair. “We could head up to Ramble. Maybe bog down at Logan’s house. I doubt the Wizards know where that is.”

Sylvia unstuck her throat.

“Are you stupid? Ramble is made up of solid trees,” she tugged at her hair, harder. “Trees that .. “ her voice cracked at the memory of the logging truck, “ .. that burn.”

"What do you want to do, then?" Jordan yelled, and he immediately regretted it. He still had Dawn in his arms. He quieted. "Dawn. Look. Sheri has a point. I don't know how safe it is being here right now. But .. w-what do you want us to do?"

"Guys!"

It was Logan's voice croaking, now -- his first words in the last half hour. He had wandered back down to the truck (maybe more eager to leave than the others) and seemed to be charging back up the driveway towards them.

"Mr. Chuckles is gone!"

Dawn didn't really hear much of the conversation that was going on between the others. Her sobbing had quieted to heavy breathing, the occasional tear still rolled down her cheek, but something was passing. A second shell; tougher than the last. It was one thing to make a shell to not care about high school, another thing entirely to be able to keep your head in a situation like this. Dawn remained buried in Jordan's arms - thoughts in a tangled mess, not knowing what to do, think or say - until his shout at Sylvie snapped her back to the present.

For the first time, Dawn noticed the heat of the blaze, the sweat and faint charring on her face, the crackling and splintering of the house's wood. She registered what was happening -- the words passing between her friends; Jordan comforting her, holding her. She loved him to pieces in that moment, for not trying to say anything, for not trying to 'make things better', for just... being there. Dawn didn't need to be patronised. It was when she caught her name that she fully tuned into what was being said.

"Dawn. Look. Sheri has a point. I don't know how safe it is being here right now. But .. w-what do you want us to do?"

The redhead lifted her head from Jordan's shoulder, hair dangling limply down over her eyes before she tentatively brushed it aside. Face wet with a mixture of sweat and tears, Dawn inhaled deeply -- a mistake, because that immediately inspired a brief coughing fit from the smoke -- before replying.

"Jordan, I..." she whispered, lifting a hand up to rest on his arm, "I need to... I need to see him."

There was no way that Dawn could walk away from her home without finding her father's body. Only then would the sense of finality fully settle over her. Only then would she be able to accept it, accept that the man with the jolly smile and the air of utter invincibility about him could be dead.

Breathing in again, Dawn closed her eyes for a moment to gather herself fully, drawing in on herself and suppressing the desire to burst out in tears again. "I'm going around the back... there might be another way in from there that's less dangerous." she said quietly, probably audible only to Jordan. He'd have to explain to the others. With a forced, fleeting smile, Dawn pulled away from her friend's embrace and stood, glancing at the others briefly as she walked backwards a few steps. With a sense of determined stubbornness, Dawn turned away and strode around to the side of the house.

Her hands clenched and unclenched as she walked, and her breathing was ragged. She squinted her eyes against the smoke, and raised her hand as if to ward off the heat as she passed close to the side of the house. Her expensive boots crunched in the gravel of the pathway leading to the back yard. Dawn was alone when she first emerged out onto the scene, and her breath caught in her throat.

The wizards were the first thing she saw, crumpled bodies with bloody holes torn in their chests, blue hats comically skewed on the floor. Dawn paced further into the garden, passing close to one of the men's bodies. His eyes stared lifelessly at the sky, but Dawn recognised him as... their dentist. The dentist was a wizard. Jesus...

If Dawn was planning on musing on the oddness of that combination of professions, the sight of her father quickly dismissed them. She froze in mid-step, eyes locking onto the figure in the fountain; his characteristic red hair just visible. Anabelle lay helplessly on the grass a few feet away. Hesitantly, nervously, Dawn moved forwards. Her legs shook, and tears once more found their way to her face. Kneeling by the side of the fountain, Dawn extended a hand to gently lift that of her father's from where it dangled out, clutching it tightly.

"Dad..." she whispered to the air, blinking the wetness in her eyes away. "I'm sorry..." What for? Dawn didn't really know. "Mum would be proud... you took those bastards with you..." a heavy sob cut her words off, but Dawn suppressed it again, suppressed the tears. She couldn't collapse into a teary wreck. Not now. Not in the middle of all this...

Mourn the dead when you know that you won't be one of them soon. But she couldn't leave him like this, either.

Jordan watched on from the entrance to the garden, hesitant about joining Dawn at Andrew's side. There were some moments to be shared, and others that were... well, not.

Carefully, Dawn reached into the fountain to hook her hands under her father's body. She half-lifted, half-dragged him towards her, straining at the man's greater weight as she pulled him from the water and onto the grass. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks, but by this point she seemed unaware of them. They weren't her tears any more. At this point, Jordan stepped forwards and made his presence known.

"Dawn, can I... help?"

Dawn looked up in surprise. She hadn't noticed him follow her. Wordlessly she nodded, and her friend joined her. Dawn hooked her hands under Andrew's arms, and Jordan lifted his legs, and together they carried his body away from the wizards to the top of the picturesque garden, where they lay him gently on his back. Dawn knelt down and rested his arms on his chest, folded.

"Goodbye, dad..." she whispered, kissing her father gently on the forehead before pulling away. Her tears had faded, and her breathing was calmer. She would mourn later. Grieving would not keep her -- and more importantly, in her eyes -- her friends alive through the rest of this shit. The redhead stepped away from Andrew, and with a nod to Jordan they began to make their way back to the side of the house, but something caught her eye, and she paused.

Dawn turned and took a few steps back, reaching down and closing one hand around Anabelle. She lifted the weapon, testing its weight. Half full, she judged. There were more shells in the shed, though.

A few minutes later, Dawn re-emerged from the little wooden shed with her handbag bluging full. She'd discarded most of her things, makeup, and other unnecessary accoutrements. Instead, she now had a nice few boxes of shotgun shells. The redhead looked up to Jordan and cocked Anabelle on her shoulder, taking a deep breath.

"C'mon." she said, smiling faintly. "Mr. Chuckles has a head start on us."

And back around to the front of the house she strode, leaving Jordan somewhat dismayed.

Dawn with a shotgun. Dear god...

Jordan's mind buzzed with the events of the day and the past half-hour. He jerked himself back to an alert state, just in time to see Dawn stroll past him with a shotgun over her shoulder. How long had he been standing there, thoughts churning? Two years? Three -- maybe more?

He commanded himself to move, and lurched after her. She had a head start on him, back down the driveway to where the truck and the others were waiting. Moments before, she had flown up towards the burning house with wild abandon, crazy with fear and grief. But now, she walked with purpose, every step slapping onto the pavement, and Jordan couldn't help but give a wry grin. Dawn with a shotgun? Dear God.

When they came back down the hill, Sheri, Logan, and Sylvia were spread out far from each other. Logan was venturing on the lawn towards one of the other houses on the street, Sylvia was off the road and in a ditch, eyeing the fields beyond, and Sheri had started peering down the long street down which they had came. They were presumably looking for Mr. Chuckles. Jordan couldn't explain why this flooded him with anxiety, but it did.

"HEY!" he roared. Their heads turned. "Get back here -- we have to go!"

Sylvia thrust an arm behind her, pointing to the field. She opened her mouth to argue, but Jordan didn't give her the chance.

"Forget the Wizard!" he shouted. He saw her eyes flash, and her jaw clench into a scowl. She stalked towards him, fists balled.

"You're gonna let him get away?" her voice was sharp and scornful.

"There's no time. Get in the truck, we're going to Logan's!" Jordan glanced over to his best friend, who was drawing closer as well. A wordless thank you; you're welcome passed between the friends.

When he turned forward again, he found himself face-to-face with his sister, a quivering exclamation mark with frizzy hair.

"You want to go Ramblewood?" she challenged, digging into the last word with a swooping, mocking tone.

"I know about the trees!" Jordan tried to place both hands on his sister's shoulders, in a calming gesture, but she windmilled her arms, knocking them off of her. "But -- hey! If Sheri is right about Mr. Keating -- " he felt hot with guilt, mentioning Dawn's father, " -- or about mom, then the Wizards should have no reason to go to Logan's house."

"Except that we'll be hiding there!" Sylvia snarled, hands on her hips, torso jutting forward aggressively.

Jordan gave a shout of frustration. "Would you just listen to me instead of -- "

"Oookay, Jordy, I didn't realize youuu were -- "

A sharp slam cut through the air.

Sylvia screamed, hiding her face. Jordan whirled, bracing himself, throwing a protective arm out in front of his sister. Sheri waved to them from the inside of the truck, having just slammed the door pointedly behind her.

The Renars returned to planet Earth, and glanced at each other sorrowfully.

"Sorry," Sylvia whispered.

"It's okay," Jordan grunted, and meant it. He dropped his arm back to his side.

Logan swallowed, his tongue rasping dryly against the top of this throat. "Uhh, we got paintball, airsoft guns at my house. Food. Vehicles. Might not be a bad place to lay low."

"Yeah," Jordan cleared his throat, awkwardly. "I guess .. yeah."

Jordan dug in his pocket for his keys, and didn't find them. He glanced to his right, and saw that he had left them in the truck's ignition. The Renar youth exhaled slowly.

Behind them, the remains of Dawn's house gave a horrifying groan. Flames still licked greedily at the brick. Some wooden framework on the inside gave out, collapsing in on itself. Smoke plumes tripled in size, and a shower of orange sparks billowed upwards.

Jordan felt a rush of shame for his pithy argument with Sylvia. While they were in the middle of a sibling spat, Dawn stood next to them all, her entire world crashing around her. Maybe she didn't want to leave, just yet. After all, this would probably be the last time she'd see the house standing. Everything had already changed around them but this? This was something different.

There was no way for him to scrub the image of the Keatings' backyard from his eyes. Jordan couldn't imagine what Dawn was feeling at this moment. He licked his lips, feeling the gnawing desire to know where his parents were. Maybe it was good that they were going to Logan's house next, to check things out. It was only fair, right?

Jordan reached out, brushing the skin of Dawn's arm with his fingertips, a platonic gesture to let her know that he was there, but needed her attention.

"Ready?" he asked, softly.

Ready? It seemed such a stunted, useless word. Ready? As though they were late for class, or about to be late for dinner. But there were no other words to sum up what they were feeling. Jordan forced himself to look at Dawn, to take all of her in. They were all in it together. Smoke, ashe, fire, this was part of their world, now. Wizards were part of their world.

Ready. It was the best he could come up with, and it would have to do.

There was no other option.