Fighting for Ponies
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, et al., own the characters and settings. The prepositions are my own, but not yet worth millions of dollars.
Summary, etc.: See Chapter 1.
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"How's my favorite Dawnie?" Willow called out giddily. For some reason all the problems in the world seemed to melt away when she caught sight of the adorable four-year-old.
"Auntie Willow's got a present for you!" Willow finished her daily greeting with a flourish of her hands, displaying her latest tribute to the Dawnie playpen.
Dawnie giggled. "Give!" It was the child's favorite word, and Willow readily complied, handing over the small plush toy.
"Pony!" Dawnie shrieked, delighted.
Dawnie had been waiting for Willow's promised pony plush all week, though this was a fact only known to she and Willow. Willow had tried to keep Xander and Buffy in the loop with all her time watching Dawnie, but the two were on some sort of over-employment binge this week, due to preparing some sort of extra special surprise for their favorite little girl.
Willow deemed it a worthy cause, but she hoped Buffy wouldn't resort to skipping meals again. It had caused both of Buffy's managers to demote her last time, since she apparently presented a negative body image to their customers.
"Have you been a good little girl? Of course you have." Willow cooed, as Dawnie galloped her plush pony around.
Their playtime was interrupted by a thunderous clomping coming from the front entrance.
Willow dove behind the living room sofa to grab a large axe, and then quickly moved to comfort Dawnie, who had promptly begun shrieking at the clamor.
Dawnie was not comforted by the sight of the large axe closing in on her head, so Willow hastily ran to the front door, only to be greeted by a confounding but mostly harmless sight.
A misshapen, four-legged brown figure clomped unsteadily into the living room, prompting Dawnie to break into a piercing, torturous screech. Willow clapped her hands to her ears, then hastily dropped the battle axe and repeated the action.
Buffy's hopeful face peered out from behind a swathing of lumpy brown cloth.
"Dawnie? We have a present for you!"
Dawnie quieted for a moment, wide-eyed.
Xander gave a helpful neigh from the rear end of their horse construction, giving the pair a healthy dose of horse realism. Buffy readjusted the brown felt hat on her head, and promptly dislodged two glued-on slinky eyes.
Dawnie gave one fearful hiccup, and fainted with fright.
Eyeless horsies galloped after Dawnie in her sleep, and at that exact same moment, in an alternate dimension, a mere slip of higher psychic intervention caused a fifteen-year-old Dawnie Summers to sprout hooves.