The Summers house was dead quiet.

Dawn closed the front door behind her, shrugging her backpack off onto the floor. She was used to the house being empty by now, what with Giles in England, Xander at his own place, Anya off mending her broken heart, Tara avoiding Willow, Willow off at college, and Buffy working at the Doublemeat Palace. She remembered a time when the house had been full of activity and life--or, well, unlife in Spike's case.

Walking toward the staircase, Dawn sighed to herself. This had been a hard year for all of them. Buffy coming back had seemed to trigger everything. Willow's demise to darkness and Giles's sudden departure and Xander and Anya splitting up--all of it had rolled into motion not long after Buffy came back. For a long time it had been easy for Dawn to blame her for everything that was going wrong in life. She had been able to convince herself that her stealing and lying and outbursts were all justified by Buffy's lack of compassion. But in truth, Dawn knew that it really had been herself who was empty of consideration. Her bad behavior had just been a selfish cry for attention, a plea for someone out there to be the nurturing parent she so badly craved.

But Dawn was no longer a kid. She was grown-up--or, well, getting there--and she should be mature enough to be acting her age. She didn't need to be shielded from her own life; she could handle big things now, like Buffy's rendezvous with Spike. Sure, Dawn had been slightly hurt for not being told before and totally shocked that it had happened, but she had never been appalled. Dawn had always had a special bond with Spike; he understood her on a level that no one else could. She could even remember a time when she had had a crush on him, but of course that had been ages ago. Now she looked up at him with a kind of brotherly fondness. He was someone she could trust and confide in, someone who would always be there to look out for her without making her feel like a six-year-old. He had been the main one to take care of her after Buffy died. The thought of Buffy and Spike together was definitely an odd combination, but it definitely wasn't completely uncool. Dawn could get used to the idea of them being a couple. Of course, Buffy didn't seem to be wanting to head in that direction.

Then there was Willow and Tara. They were so great together, and Dawn could tell they were so obviously still in love. If only Willow's magic hadn't spun out of control… Dawn had forgiven Willow for that, but it hadn't been easy. But the fact that she had forgiven her had to mean something. She was starting to act older, and that made her smile a little. Yes, things had been hard, but they were seeming to get better. Tara and Willow were talking again, and they had even gone out on a date, Their future was looking hopeful.

Dawn walked slowly up the stairs. It was nice that Tara and Willow were piecing together their broken relationship--someone in this group deserved a happy ending--but she still couldn't shake the voice inside of her that whined for more attention. Communication between her and Buffy was more open now, but people still were never around that much. As she started up the steps, she wondered if maybe Willow had come home for a post-class nap. She did that sometimes. Dawn reached the top of the stairs and began walking down the hall. She noticed the door to Willow's room was slightly ajar, as if someone had carelessly left it that way. That's weird, she thought. It's usually left closed.

"Willow?" Dawn called tentatively. "You there?"

Silence.

Dawn stopped, feeling her heartbeat start to quicken. The eerie quiet was getting her to her now as she continued down the hall. She paused at the door and knocked softly.

"Willow, are you sleeping?" Dawn asked, more loudly now.

No answer.

She peered her head inside to see that the bed covers were all askew. She pushed the door in even farther to see a hole in the window and glass shards scattered all over the floor.

Something was definitely wrong. Very wrong.

"Willow!" Dawn rushed into the room. "What's going on?" She looked around frantically. Suddenly her eyes landed on a leg. A leg was sticking out from behind the side of the bed. The shoe on the foot…the dusty brown leather clog…it was so familiar…

Tara.

"Oh my god." Dawn dashed to the other side of the bed. "Oh god, oh god--" And then there was Tara, sprawled spread-eagle on the ground, unmoving. She threw herself beside Tara's body.

"Tara!" she screamed in alarm. "Tara, wake up! You have to wake up!" She shook her limp arm roughly, trying to get some kind of reaction. Any kind of sign that there was life inside of the body. But Tara's eyes just stared back up at her, unblinking, not focusing on Dawn's face, but a point beyond her. Dawn set her head carefully on Tara's stomach, trying to see if she was breathing. She wasn't. A bullet…there was a bullet in Tara's chest. The blood had soaked through the fabric of her blouse and left a large, dark stain.

"Tara, come on!" Dawn cried hysterically. "You have to wake up!" Dawn closed her eyes in frustration. Why hadn't she ever listened in health class when the teacher explained CPR? Why had she gossiped with Janice instead of paying attention to the demonstration? Check for a pulse, a vague voice reminded her. She put her fingers on Tara's neck. She couldn't feel a pulse, but what if she wasn't checking the right spot? Suddenly she remembered. If Tara had a chance of being revived, if the bullet had only been shot a little while ago, her body would still be warm.

Dawn pressed her palm into Tara's arm. The skin was as cold as ice. But then again, Dawn herself was sweaty and hot. She couldn't be sure. What if she was doing everything wrong? What if time was slipping by and she was just wasting it? What if it was her fault that Tara was dead?

"Oh god!" Dawn leapt to her feet and staggered backwards, her back hitting against the closet door. She sank to the floor in a sorry heap, her body racking with frightened sobs. Dawn had seen a lot in her lifetime; she supposed anyone would if they were the Slayer's sister. But she had never seen someone, dead, right in front of her. Not just someone, Tara. Tara, the girlfriend, the witch, her friend. Someone who's life was connected to her own.