Title: The Backpack.

Characters: Buffy Summers, Dawn Summers.

Rating: PG. Some mild fantasy violence in the form of vampire slaying.

Summary: how did Dawn find out that Buffy was the Slayer? A fluffy fic exploring the friendship between the two sisters. Set between 'Never Kill a Boy on the First Date' and 'The Pack'. Estimated reading time: 10 minutes.

Sunnydale, April 1997.

Lipstick. Half-written history notes. Mascara. Highlighters. Crossbow. A crinkled bubblegum wrapper. Concealer. Holy water. A dogeared French textbook. Pager. A newspaper clipping detailing a mysterious disappearance. Hairspray. Stake.

When the contents of Buffy's backpack came crashing to the ground, so did her whole world.

Snatching the stake in a swift, decisive motion; "Alright, let's make this quick. I have bigger monsters to deal with than you."

The vampire lunged. Buffy blocked his punch.

"My sister."

She flipped him onto the ground.

"What, no laughs? Guess your sense of humor died when you did, huh."

He began to rise.

"Well, I guess smaller monster. She is all midget-y."

She kicked him in the head before pinning him to the ground- to his second grave- with her heel.

"But she's a bigger problem, a, um…Smaller-bigger monster? An extra large mini-monster? One size, annoys all?"

She plunged the stake into his chest, and he wasted away to the dust he wasn't worth. Appraising her possessions strewn all over the ground, she reminded herself that one day she'd be lying there with them. The contents of her backpack would become an obituary. A time capsule. Her life, her death, her destiny…All fitted inside a bag. And what would whoever found her make of everything she had been? Would they recognize her as a Slayer, a hero, or as a slave? A child forced to fight on behalf of adults, still clinging to textbooks and study notes as if she'd ever live to make use of them? Or would they see 'crossbow' and assume 'gang-member'? Would the holy water deceive them, lead them to the conclusion that she was just an extremely superstitious teenager, possibly Born Again? Would they see her gender and dismiss the weaponry as the latest accessory, or the beginnings of an early Halloween costume?

She slipped in through the back door at 7:35 pm, into the kitchen where Dawn sat, armed with a chess set and some unholy monstrosity masquerading as food. She was later home than she had promised she would be for babysitting duties, but it couldn't be helped now.

"Mom said you'd be here to make dinner."

"Well, given the complete and utter here-ness of me, I'd say mom is physic." She quipped. "So, what do you fancy? Pizza?"

Proudly; "I got bored of waiting, already made myself dinner. Wanna bite?"

"…Dawn, whatever that thing is on the table, it's not dinner. It's an insult to dinner. It's sullying dinner's good name. Dinner is suing it for defamation."

"It's a prawn and mint sauce panini with a light honey drizzle on top."

"Good luck finding a defense lawyer for that." She teased, getting out a rolling pin, some yeast, and flour. "Pizza it is then."

Dawn was the dictionary definition of petulant; "You won't try just a little bit?"

"I don't plan on dying just yet."

They talked, Buffy preparing the pizzas as she asked about Dawn's life, how chess club was going (great), how cooking was at school (greater), how she was settling into Sunnydale (greatest). Dawn suggested toppings for the pizzas, suggestions her sister shot down with quick-witted quips sharper than any stake she wielded. She might have been chosen to slay vampires, but cheerios and anchovies on pizza was one evil she didn't need a calling to defend against.

"So when's Mom coming home?"

"Soonish. She's just at the grand opening for the gallery, probably showcasing that weird fertility statue and giving all her customers the wig." She explained, dipping her finger in the tomato puree and taste-testing it much to her approval.

A knock on the backdoor.

"Come in!" chirped Buffy, a mistake she'd regret but a millisecond later, when a vampire entered in lieu of Joyce.

The demon snarled. Dawn screamed.

"Whoops."

Grabbing the rolling pin, the Slayer snapped it in two on her knee, before throwing one half like a javelin, straight into its hollow heart.

Dawn's mouth hung open wide enough to rival the Hellmouth itself.

"Aw, I hadn't finished rolling out my pizza…Is nothing sacred to vampires? Is nothing sacred at all?" She despaired, before noticing her little sister's expression.

"So you're probably wondering about the vampire-shaped…Thingy. Its scientific name being vampire."

No reply.

"And how it turned to dust."

No reply.

"And why it had to have a invitation to come in, which I've been wondering myself lately. I mean, if you're polite enough to knock, you're polite enough not to try and suck my blood and okay I'm going off a tangent here."

No reply. Which had become a reply in itself.

Sighing, she knelt on the floor so they were at eye-level with one another and took her sister's hand in hers; "Look, Dawn, this might come as a shock to you, but I'm kinda a vampire slayer. Not exactly what I signed up for at last year's career fair, but hey, it's what I got. Think of me as your own personal superhero. I don't enjoy it, but I do it to protect you and Mom. Speaking of Mom, you can't tell her about this, okay? The broken rolling pin and pile of dust? It's modern art. Call it post modern or avant-garden or whatever. As far as she's concerned, the only thing I'm slaying is this spring ensemble."

…

"Dawnie, please say something."

A grin; "…That was so cool!"

If nothing else, on the day Buffy is found dead in a graveyard, backpack the only thing left of her life, a memorial, a museum, Dawn would understand what it all meant.