Therapy - XXXV

'We may define therapy as a search for value' - Abraham Maslow

From the very beginning it had seemed like a futile consideration, and yet still Dawn burned with a desire too strong to be merely ignored. After Spike had departed from Dawn's bedroom, inadvertently waking her in is haste to escape sunrise, she had spent the remainder of the wee hours of the morning in morbid contemplation. Mostly, Dawn thought of her mother; selfless and loving Joyce Summers, who had strived always to ensure that happiness and fulfilment were paramount in her daughters' lives.

Joyce had struggled alone through the jungle of parenthood for many years before her death, fulfilling both roles of father and mother to her children without complaint. Through the reoccurring times of supernatural peril plus the more mundane trials of growing up, Joyce had been the one constant in Dawn's life. Although Dawn accepted that this was indeed as it should be between mother and child, she was riddled with guilt by the thought that her own stupidity had potentially tarnished the memory of her mother.

Dawn knew that over the years there had been certain expectations placed upon her by her parents; honour roll, graduation, college. All of these were expectations that Dawn had once been only too happy to meet. But now, with the weight of impending motherhood bearing heavily down upon her, any such ideas had been blasted into the depths of oblivion. Dawn was both accepting of and comfortable with this fact, having come to terms with the consequence of her actions before she had chosen to make a single revelation. However, the one thought that Dawn could not bare was the possibility that she had disappointed her mother.

From the scant facts she had extracted from Willow whilst in Rome, Dawn knew enough about the afterlife to realise that Joyce now assumed a position of near omniscience in her children's lives. Whilst for a time this idea had brought Dawn great comfort, she could now not shake the feeling that she had in some way brought shame upon herself with her recent actions. With retrospect in irritating presence, Dawn was able to identify the immature and evidently reckless manner in which she had acted of late. Dawn could not however bring herself to regret her feelings for Spike, nor she resolved would she attempt to. So with this in mind, Dawn had become quickly determined to attain Joyce's understanding where she could not hope to receive her forgiveness.

Crouching low to the moist ground, Dawn allowed the tips of her fingers to sink into the soil in order to provide her body with the necessary equilibrium. The dirt seeped beneath her fingernails but Dawn paid no mind to the unpleasant sensation as her eyes focused in the fading light upon a sight that still made her blanch. Dawn chewed on her bottom lip as she reread the inscription on her mother's headstone, guilt all the while gnawing a hole in the pit of her stomach. The ground before the grave was barren and Dawn's cheeks coloured with renewed shame as she realised that she had neglected to bring flowers. For a few moments her gaze relentlessly swept the graveyard as though searching for a suitable answer to the quandary. Finding nothing but a sea of granite and marble stretching endlessly before her, Dawn hunched her shoulders and with a sigh returned her attentions to her mother's resting place.

"Hi Mom," Dawn began tentatively, pausing in order to clear her throat as her ears detected a hitch in her voice. "I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything. I promise next time I will."

A gentle breeze stirred the branches of the willow trees that lined the perimeter of the graveyard and for a while Dawn simply stared entranced as the spindly limbs danced and swayed. This particular corner of the cemetery was secluded enough from the main path to offer Dawn a secure place to hide away, and so for the moment she chose to embrace the opportunity. Since today was Saturday and the sanctuary of school had therefore been absent, Dawn had endured the majority of the day in the lounge of her home under the intense scrutiny of Willow, who appeared to be observing her as though she were on suicide watch. Buffy and Angel had gone out long before Dawn had surfaced from her bedroom and had not returned by the time Willow had announced an unavoidable trip to the library. Seizing the opportunity for escape, Dawn had decided that there was no time like the present to make the so desired visit to Joyce's grave.

Finally, it seemed appropriate to speak again and Dawn settled back on her heels as she prepared to visit with her mother at last.

"I don't know what to say Mom, aside from I'm sorry," Dawn continued, pushing her hair behind her ears and taking in a shaky breath, "I know that doesn't change anything or make it up to the people I've hurt but I hope you at least understand that I never meant to cause anyone pain."

Dawn paused, her head cocked towards the darkening sky as though she searched for some divine sign that her words had been acknowledged. In the distance, a trio of magpies suddenly took flight, abandoning their perch on the shoulder of an intricately carved marble angel and cackling as their wings beat the air. Shuddering, Dawn pulled her thin jacket tighter across her body to guard against the chill that had crept up upon the evening.

"I wish you were here," Dawn pressed on determinedly, surprised by the steadiness of her tone, "everything is such a mess at the moment. I really do love Spike; if I hadn't I promise I would never have… well, I guess you know that part already... You probably already know he's going to do his best to be there for me and the baby, but I'm not sure how well things will work out."

The sound of a small dog yapping interrupted Dawn's monologue and she turned towards the path in time to see a black bundle of fur weaving at speed in and out of the headstones. The dog pressed its snout firmly to the ground and barked again happily, scattering clouds of fallen autumn leaves into the air as it ran. As the creature disappeared from sight, Dawn noted an old man lumbering towards her with a leash slung over one arm and an amused smile playing across his lips. His weathered face was kind and something about it reminded Dawn of her grandfather, who had died shortly before her seventh birthday. His skin stretched across his cheekbones like puckered brown leather but his gleaming eyes were of the most brilliant shade of silver that was visible even from Dawn's vantage point several yards away. The old man offered Dawn a wordless smile as he passed and, for the briefest of moments, Dawn was comforted enough to gather the inner strength required for her to continue.

"I wish that I hadn't hurt Buffy and Angel so much. I hated keeping secrets from her, Mom, but I was scared to tell her the truth, especially when she thought the prophecy was meant for her and Angel…" Dawn trailed off in order to brush away the tears that had stealthily managed to escape, "I really wish it had been. They deserve to be happy and I know Buffy would do a much better job than me with a baby…"

Dawn paused again and her head drooped a little as she reached out a shaky hand in order to caress the granite marker that represented her only link with her mother. She pressed the tip of her index finger into the indentations in the stone and traced the letters of her mother's name, still with some disbelief present.

Dawn's voice escaped her in a broken whisper that she could barely recognise as her own, "I'm so scared, Mommy."

She was crying more freely now, her breath catching in her throat and causing her to hiccup as the tears ran in rivulets down her cheeks. Dawn was so sick of being defeated by her misery but whenever she thought that she had at last conquered it, something else would send her over the edge into hysteria once again. She assumed that her hormones were largely responsible for her recent mood swings but the evident rift that had formed between Dawn and Buffy did little to ease her distress. Dawn was unsure as to whether the damage to their once close relationship was repairable and the notion that it may not be scared her more than the concept of parenthood. She owed so much to her sister who, in one way or another, had forsaken all that was precious to her for Dawn's sake.

Inhaling deeply in a bid to collect her fragmented emotions, Dawn wiped away the tears with the backs of her hands. Her bottom lip continued to tremble but she managed to mute her sobbing after only a few moments had passed.

"I don't expect you or Buffy or the rest of the guys to forgive me for what I've done," Dawn explained, curling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, "but I just want you to know, I understand what I have to do to make it right."

Before breaking the news of her pregnancy to Buffy, Dawn had spent much of her time in contemplation as to her next course of action. She was intelligent enough to understand the options before her but inexperienced enough in life to be unaware of how these may effect her future. She had considered the obvious choices, termination and adoption being among them, but had quickly arrived at the decision to keep her baby without any real difficulty. Dawn had never truly taken the time to contemplate the idea of not keeping a child of her own, but she found in doing so that her own conscience would never allow it. She was capable of loving a child she was sure, but only time would tell if she was truly capable of motherhood.

"I love you so much, Mom," Dawn said, a smile wavering on her lips, "you were always amazing, everything that we needed you to be without us ever having to ask. I know I can't live up to that… but I'm going to try, for you and for the baby. I wish you'd get to see your grandchild… that they would get the chance to have someone like you in their life… but that's what I'm going to give them… as much of you as I can be."

Dawn paused, her now numbing hands moving forwards and beginning to clear away the small mound of crisp leaves that had collected at the foot of Joyce's tombstone. Her fingers worked quickly and soon the granite was freed. Dawn observed her efforts and consented to smile as she wiped away traces of mud with her already sodden sleeve.

"I just hope it's enough… and that one day, you do forgive me."

The formality of visiting Joyce's grave had seemed right and, as Dawn climbed to her feet, brushing soil and twigs from her jeans, she was filled with a sense of peace that was inexplicable. The breeze gathered again into a gentle wind that moaned as it swept through the branches of the surrounding foliage. Dawn stared at the grave site for a minute whilst mentally stumbling her way through a prayer that she was ashamed to admit she had neglected for almost three years. Touching the top of the marker in a final gesture of farewell, Dawn turned in search of the pathway that would lead her back to the main gate of the cemetery. Her long ponytail whipped up around her as the wind delivered one final large gust before seeming to die down abruptly.

Dawn could not be certain but some inner sense told her that the tender touch of fingertips against her cheek that had arrived with the breeze had not been imagined. Nor had the soft voice in her ear that, despite being little more like a breathy hiss, Dawn could never fail to recognise.

She found the path without difficultly and, with a smile that stretched the expanse of her face, Dawn set off towards home with a single word resonating in her ears.

"Always."