TITLE: Breathing
AUTHOR: Goddess Isa
EMAIL: goddessisa@aol.com
SUMMARY: Dawn finally talks about how she's doing to the only person who'll understand
SPOILER: The Gift
RATING: TV-PG
DISTRIBUTION: http://planetslaythis.homestead.com, Fanfiction.net under Goddess Isa, anyone else, just send me the URL
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon owns the characters herein. Plech. "Yellow" is by Coldplay. LOVE THEM.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sad song, sad fic.
1/31/01



//Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow\\


"How are you doing? I mean, how are you really?"

I looked at him and sighed. I knew by looking into his chocolate eyes that I could tell him anything. The truth, lies, it wouldn't matter. He would believe it all and understand because that's who he is.

That's what made Buffy love him.

"Dawn?" he asked quietly, and for the first time since I found out I was "The Key", I didn't cringe at the sound of my name.

"I'm breathing, Angel. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"It counts for a lot," he said in his honest voice, the one that always came out when Buffy was mentioned.

"What about you?" I asked in a whisper. "How are you doing?"

"Same as you," he admitted, and I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

He wasn't breathing, but he was getting by. He was managing the only way he knew how—pushing himself through without stopping to think about it.

"I miss her too," Angel said, even though I knew it, and I couldn't hold back anymore.

"Dawn, come here," Angel wrapped me in his arms, and I let him hold me while I cried. Ragged sobs were hushed in his chest, his hand stroking my hair until I was too weak to cry any more.

When it got cold, he covered me with his duster, and we lay there, just staring at her name, thinking our own thoughts, no words needed because the truth had been said and there was nothing left to lie about.

I fell asleep in his arms, at her grave, with flowers at our feet.

When I woke up, the sun was making its appearance, causing me to sweat under Angel's duster. I pushed it aside as I sat up and that's when I noticed the handwriting.

"You can call me," it said in Angel's gorgeous script, "Anytime, anyday, whenever. You can call me. Even if it's just to say that you're breathing."

I hugged the note to my chest, and before I left, I folded a few petals from the roses he'd brought for Buffy into the piece of paper. I stuck it in my dresser at home, with Mom's wallet and other things I wouldn't part with if my non-existent life depended on it.

And a few hours later, when I went down to breakfast, acting as though I'd been sleeping in my bed all night, Willow smiled and asked me how I was doing.

I didn't smile, or lie, or even ignore her. I dug into my Fruity Pebbles and said, "I'm breathing."

A flash of emotion crossed Willow's face, and for a moment, I thought she might break. Her lip quivered and she blinked away tears. Then, she whispered, "Me too," before turning away and breezing into her day with the usual approach of avoidance.


//Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And all the things that you do\\