Title: Interrogation

Author: mistymidnight

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Joss owns the Buffyverse, and Nancy Drew belongs to whoever wrote under the alias Carolyn Keene. (Yes, it is an alias…I know that for a fact!)

Timeline/Spoilers: Early season two.

Summary: Dawn gets an obsession with being a detective. This may not be good for our favorite Slayer…

Author's Notes: I was staring at my computer thinking about the Hardy Boys (whose books I've never read) which made me think of Nancy Drew, and since I was on ff.net, I thought of Dawn. And then I thought, How about Dawn and Nancy Drew put together? Yes, this story is (at last!) not the result of a request, but my own twisted imagination. Okay, a request thrown in for good measure. The Buffy/Angel part of this story comes from a request by gidgetgirl. (Oh, who else? Were you expecting someone else? You people really ought to act alive. LOL.)


"Dawn!" Buffy yelled, just before Dawn walked right into her.


Buffy looked down her nose at her younger sister, which was rather difficult since Dawn was almost the same height as she was. "I called your name three times and you didn't answer. Are you okay?"

Dawn nodded and held up her book. "Just reading."

Buffy read the title. "The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes." She smiled a little. "So it's your turn now."

Dawn frowned, puzzled. "My turn for what?"

Buffy's smile widened. "The Summers Nancy Drew Obsession. Mom had it, I had it. My obsession was worse. I got the magnifying glass and a plaid Sherlock Holmes jacket and everything. I wonder if they're still around here or if Dad has them." She looked thoughtful, then snapped back to reality. "Oh, by the way, don't try tinting your hair red with food coloring. It won't tint. It will make you look like you've got catsup on your head. Just a tip from one Nancy fan to another." She spun on her heel and walked out the front door. "Have a good day at school!" she called over her shoulder.

Dawn didn't hear her. She was too busy reading The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes.

She read on the bus to school, at recess, during lunch, during the bus ride home, and even during class, even though she got yelled at. It was definitely worth it, because by the time she got home, she'd finished reading the book and was ready for another one.

Her mother and Buffy weren't home when she got there, but that wasn't unusual. Buffy was supposed to come home and babysit her, but she had probably stayed at the library to study. She studies a lot more here than she did in LA, Dawn thought. But Dawn didn't mind, because either Buffy or Mom was home when it got dark. Dawn hated the dark.

She also hated the attic. But it was necessary to go up there. Even Nancy had to go into attics, sometimes even other people's. If she could do it, so could Dawn.

Dawn trudged upstairs and into the hallway, where she got a stepstool from the bathroom and stood on it to reach the pull string for the attic ladder that folded down from the ceiling. Once she accomplished this, she climbed up the folding ladder and crawled into the attic.

It was overwhelmingly hot and humid, and Dawn began to sweat as soon as she poked her head in. But she wouldn't let it deter her; she was on a mission.

She found the box labeled "Books" and checked inside. There they were, fifty installments in the Nancy Drew Series. She smiled and slid the box along the floor to the hole with the ladder. The air was cooler there and she sat for a minute, breathing in the freshness of it. It wasn't old and dusty like the attic air was.

But there was one more thing she had to do.

She crawled over to the box marked "Keepsakes—Buffy" and opened it. Dust flew out and tickled her nose, but she was too happy to notice. Because there, folded neatly in the box, was a plaid Sherlock Holmes jacket, complete with a hat and magnifying glass laid out on top.

"And where were you at the time of the incident, Mr. Gordo?" Dawn questioned the stuffed pig, who simply stared ahead. "Look at me when I speak to you!" The pig stared straight ahead, then fell off the pillow he had been positioned on.

"A-ha! A likely story. But don't you worry, the amazing Dawn Summers will get to the bottom of this case."

The phone rang and Dawn abandoned her interrogation to pick it up.


"Hi, sweetheart, it's Mom."

"Hi Mom.
"Listen, is Buffy home yet?"


On the other end of the line, Joyce sighed. "I have to work late tonight, sweetie. Call the babysitter and—"

"Mom, please let me stay alone," Dawn begged. "I'm ten years old. A whole decade. I'll call that lady across the street and tell her to check in on me. Please? Pretty please? Pretty pretty—"

Joyce sighed again. "I don't have time to argue, Dawn. You may stay alone, just this once."

"Thanks, Mom! Bye!" Dawn hung up delightedly and locked the doors, not even bothering to call the woman across the street. She had a very important interrogation to attend to.

An hour an a half later, Dawn was still sitting in her room, but her investigation was almost over.

"Mr. Gordo," she addressed the pig, who still stared blankly ahead. "You may think you've fooled me with your impassive stare and cool manner, but I've wised up to your tricks." Impassive was a word Dawn had heard Willow say just recently. She had looked it up in the dictionary and it was her new favorite word.

"Do you realize I have evidence to put you away for life?" she questioned the limp ball of fuzz. "Now, I'll ask you this once and only once: Where is my sister, Buffy Summers?"

Mr. Gordo exercised his Fifth Amendment rights and remained silent.

"Not talking, eh?" Dawn asked. She stared coldly at the pig for a few seconds, then picked him up and hovered him over the bed covers, pretending her was making a getaway. "Oh no, you don't!" she yelled, throwing herself onto the bed, sandwiching Mr. Gordo between her stomach and the bed sheets. "You are guilty. You're going to jail." She walked over to the laundry hamper, tossed the stuffed criminal inside, and put to top back on the hamper.

Dawn realized that interrogation of suspects, especially by yourself, made you very hungry. She put a Webster's Dictionary on top of the hamper to prevent Mr. Gordo from making an escape and set off down the hallway, pausing at Buffy's open door, believing she'd seen something move.

Had she ever! There was Buffy sitting on her window seat, kissing some guy!

"Buffy!" Dawn shrieked, surprised.

"Dawn!" Buffy squealed, even more surprised. The guy jumped, startled, and banged his head on the bottom of the open window. "Ow."

"Uh, Dawn, hi. What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Dawn said pointedly, then gestured to the guy. "What's his excuse?"

"This is Angel, uh, my, uh…"

"Boyfriend?" Dawn supplied.

"Uh, yeah, that's the one! Hey, Dawnie, I, uh…"

Dawn sighed. "I won't tell Mom." Then her grin widened. "On one condition."

Dawn sat at the kitchen table, in the dark. "I don't see why you want to do this," Buffy muttered. "It's ridiculous."

Dawn shined a flashlight in her sister's face. "Do you know I have evidence that will not only lock you up for life for real, I have evidence of a Nancy Drew Obsession that can cause you life on the run to be very embarrassing."

Buffy feigned innocence. "I don't know what on Earth she's talking about," she whispered to Angel. He raised his eyebrows.

"You!" Dawn yelled, shining the flashlight onto both of them. "I've already locked up your pig! He named you as his partner in crime, Shady B, and your boyfriend Mr. Mob is guilty by association!"

"If I have to be a criminal," Buffy said flatly, "can I get a cooler name than 'Shady B'?"

"You have the right to remain silent." Dawn informed her. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of Mom."

Buffy sighed.

Note to self: Never have kids. This obsession gets quite unhealthy.

Dawn darted the flashlight beam round wildly. "You ready to talk?"


Dawn stood on a chair and shined the flashlight straight down on Buffy. "Where were you on Friday the thirteenth?"

"Having tea with Jason and Freddy Krueger," Buffy snapped.

Dawn whacked her with the flashlight.

It was going to be a long night.

Well, there you go. REVIEW! (I live for reviews.)