Xander knew exactly what—or rather, who—he expected to see, and it definitely wasn't the person he saw
Title: Something Real
Author: Ssauei'ssui
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dawn wants to feel something real.
Word Count: 1600
Characters, pairings: Dawn/Xander
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any related characters.
A/N: I wrote this for a prompt from the "Sekrit Cabal Ficlet Battle" over on LiveJournal, but I'm not actually writing it for the battle. I'm not submitting it, at least not yet.
Please forgive the fact that I'm writing this without having quite finished watching the fifth season. My friends didn't get me hooked until it was over, and it's taking me a while to get through.
It wasn't a "Whatever he expected to see…" moment. Xander knew exactly what—or rather, who—he expected to see, and it definitely wasn't the person he saw. He expected to see Anya.
Instead, opening the door, he saw—
"Dawn!" he said in surprise.
"Hi, Xander." Dawn looked like she didn't know exactly what to say. "Uh… C-Can I come in?"
"Umm… sure." Xander moved out of the way so the girl could enter. Dawn came into the room on silent feet. "Any particular reason you're here?"
Dawn turned to face him. The long sleeves of her sweater covered the bandages from her recent 'accident.' Xander couldn't avoid noticing that her mouth and cheeks were redder than normal as she stared at him.
"Am I real, Xander?" Dawn tilted her head to the side as she asked the question. Her mouth stayed open after she asked, and her eyes widened just slightly; she looked more than a little desperate.
Xander answered without stopping to think. "Of course."
Dawn laughed. Her chin lifted, strong and sarcastic. Her eyes narrowed condescendingly. "Of course," she repeated, and Xander jerked back in shock. "Why wouldn't the little Key be real? It must be real. Why would we all risk our lives for some stupid blob of energy? Of course it must be real."
She stepped toward him confidently, and Xander took a step back. "I'm your friend, Dawn," he told her. "I believe you're real."
"And am I a real girl, Xander?" Dawn stepped forward again, and Xander almost tripped over a chair backing away. Dawn's eyes had taken a mocking glint. "Am I a real girl, even though I'm not even a year old and I'm in middle school? Am I a real girl, even if I'm not the girl you remember? Am I a real girl if nothing I've ever done really happened? If nothing you remember me doing ever really happened?"
Xander took a deep breath. "Yes," he said with as much confidence as he could muster. "You are real."
"I don't feel real." Dawn's voice dropped, and suddenly she was desperate again, almost pleading. She stepped closer, and Xander couldn't bring himself to back away. Dawn reached out and took his hand and pulled it to her chest. "You can feel my heartbeat, can't you?" Xander nodded, and Dawn shook her head. "I can feel it, too, but I don't feel it. It doesn't feel real." She let go. It was several moments before Xander remembered to pull his hand away.
Dawn rolled up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing the white bandages. She hooked one finger gently under the cloth and began pulling it away.
"Whoa—Dawn!" Xander half-shouted. "Don't—" He grabbed her arm just as the last of the bandages fell away.
The skin of her arm was scarred and stitched over, rough where it had started to scab. Xander almost flinched away when he felt it, but Dawn covered his hand with hers, trapping and warming him at the same time.
"You feel that?" she whispered. Xander nodded again—how could he not feel it? "I feel it, too." Dawn stepped closer still, eyes fixed on Xander's, hand still trapping his. "I felt the blood running down my arm, my blood running down my arm. I felt the cool metal knife slit my skin open and slide down toward my hand. I felt it. It felt real."
She moved closer, until Xander had to step back again. Her eyes were excited now; the expression scared Xander more than had the sarcasm. "I didn't realize until then how flat all my memories are. They're not real, Xander. I know that now. I know that the blade of the knife was real, and the blood was real; but that I'm no sister to Buffy, or daughter to Joyce." Xander jumped when he heard that. "Nothing is real if it used to be a lie. The only things that will feel real to me are things that didn't happen in my fake memories. Not a heartbeat, or even fear for my life… Just a knife, heavy in my hand, cool on my skin, cutting through soft flesh and spilling hot blood. That's the only thing in my life that feels real to me, Xander."
Xander could only stare wordlessly as Dawn took one more step.
"Let me feel real, Xander," she said softly. "Show me something that isn't flat. Give me a memory where the beat of my heart sounds in my ears and my skin shivers and I know that this body is real. Let me know that I am real."
Xander shook his head frantically and backed away, circling the chair to put it between himself and Dawn. "No. No, Dawn—look." He held out the hand that wasn't still trapped over Dawn's arm. "You're my best friend's little sister, and I—I have a girlfriend—"
"Anya does the same thing I do," Dawn told him stubbornly. "She gathers new experiences. She finds love—" Dawn released his hand to slide her own over Xander's chest, watching her trailing fingers "—and experiences it to make herself into a real human. And as for Buffy…" Dawn raised her eyes to Xander's, simple teenage stubbornness shining in them now. "I thought we already covered the fact that she's not really my sister. So that's not a problem at all."
"Look," Xander said. "Dawn. You're a very pretty girl, but I have a girlfriend."
Dawn stepped forward again, pushing him back another step. "I thought we covered that, too," she breathed.
Xander's next step back sent him tumbling to the couch. He winced as he banged his shoulders, then frowned as he realized it hadn't hurt. He'd barely felt it.
Dawn knelt beside him on the couch. "What's wrong, Xander?" she asked, brushing his hair away with a hand he could no longer feel.
Xander pinched his arm. He felt nothing.
He raised startled eyes to Dawn's calm ones. "This isn't real."
Dawn leaned down, smiling. "It's as real as I am," she whispered smugly, sarcastically, and kissed him. Xander's eyes widened; it was a strange experience to know Dawn was kissing him, to see her kissing him, and yet feel nothing. Dawn's eyes had fluttered shut; she lifted a hand and ran it through Xander's hair. Xander blinked. His own hand rose—he thought he was raising it to remove hers, but instead it tangled itself in long brown hair. He cupped her neck in his hand and pulled her closer, closing his eyes.
He knew now what Dawn had meant. He could feel her lips on his, her tongue tracing his mouth; but it felt distant. He could feel silky brown locks around his fingers, her hand combing his hair; but it felt like a ghost. He could feel as Dawn moved her lips slowly from his, along his jaw, down his neck; but he couldn't feel it. It didn't feel real.
Xander's other hand rose, and this time with conscious control, slid up Dawn's back, under her shirt. Her skin was as hot as a mug of cocoa, but it felt like holding his hand a few inches from the porcelain. The sweater that ran along the back of his hand and arm was silky and fine, but it was as though he had touched it lightly with his fingertips and let it drift away as he ran his hand along it.
Dawn's hands had begun working his shirt over his head. Xander knew it was a dream, but the sweater sliding over his skin felt like something imagined after seeing a show on TV, and it scared him. Dawn's skin under his hand, her hair around his fingers, her lips on his skin—none of it felt real, and it scared him. Was this how Dawn always felt?
Dawn lifted her head from his neck so she could pull his shirt off completely. Xander stared into her eyes. He truly did believe she was real. How could she not even feel?
Xander caught the hand in his hair and brought it to his lips. "You are real," he whispered to her, and kissed her fingers gently. "And I'll prove it to you."
Dawn smiled.
Xander woke up the next morning alone in his bed, still dressed. He sat up slowly, looking around. There was no evidence of what he could remember happening last night. The couch was undisturbed; the chair he had jolted out of place trying to back away was back in position.
So that was it? It was all a dream? Those minutes of terrifying half-felt sensations… the moments when he had truly felt Dawn's skin and hair… It was all a dream? As real as I am…
That was it, then. None of it was real. As real as I am… It wasn't real.
"Hi, Xander." Xander turned, surprised.
Dawn stood there, smiling. It was the first real smile he could remember seeing her wear, in fake memories or otherwise. It lit up her whole face and made her cheeks glow even without the makeup she'd worn the night before.
Xander blinked as he noticed that Dawn's hair was wet. "Um…" he said. "Did you…"
"Shower? Of course." Dawn smiled. Xander dazedly realized she was wearing the same clothes she had when she had come to his house. "I used yours; figured you wouldn't mind."
Xander walked toward her, wondering if this meant what he thought it did. "How's your arm?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
Dawn pulled up her sleeve and showed it to him. There were the cuts, bandages removed, stitched exactly the same way Xander had seen.
"Fine," she told him.
As real as I am…
Xander smiled. It looked like that was very real after all.