Buffy was my hero. Even when we were kids, she was my hero. Like, Superman and Wonder-Woman and Batman all rolled into one. And far more cool than any of them. She didn't wear tights.
I hate her.
She makes me feel so small. I barely even get thirty seconds by myself, since, well
I guess she's trying to do what mom did, but mom was never like this. Overwhelming. Like I'm too stupid to watch out for myself. I'm almost fifteen; I'm practically an adult. And all the teachers say I'm mature for my age. Mom understood that. Buffy doesn't even let me cross the road by myself.
Well, it's not like that.
She does let me cross the road by myself just.
But I mean, I guess I don't hate her. Well, I do. But I love her too. And I hate her, and it's all at the same time, and it hurts. Loving hurts. Hating hurts. Living hurts, 'cause you're always loving someone or hating someone.
Hating someone hurts because you know you shouldn't hate them. And loving someone hurts because in the end, you know that they're going to leave.
Things have changed round here recently. Maybe because of mom, maybe because of something else. I never knew before what was going on, why should that change? I mean, Buffy the Almighty only gave this great big speech about how things were going to be equal between us, that she was only my guardian on paper, that we were going to be friends more than sisters and share everything equally.
Well, we're sharing the chores equally.
She doesn't speak to me like she speaks to Willow, or Xander, or Tara, or even Anya who she doesn't really like. She doesn't speak to me like she speaks to Giles. She doesn't speak to me like she speaks to Riley. She doesn't even speak to me the way she used to.
So I sit in the bathroom, my legs crossed and my back against the cool white tiles, when they come home. Buffy shouts up, to check I am home she couldn't pick me up today, so Nicky's mom dropped me off. I call back, and they all go through to the living room beneath the bathroom.
I languorously stretch out across the floor, and place my ear to it. I hear muffled voices, but nothing comes through clearly. Placing down the cool steel blade that I have been playing with, I pull myself up to face the mirror.
I brush my mousy blond hair away, and splash my face with cold water. I look up, and see her looking back at me. Dawn, Dawnie, Kid, Sis, pain, Sister to the Slayer and daughter of no one. No one alive, and no one who matters. I don't even know who I am anymore.
In my room I can't even hear the muffled noises anymore. I am isolated, and wrapped in silence. Well, near enough. Kids play beneath my window and birds sing and fly in great rushes of air. I watch the children running up and down, throwing a ball.
How innocent and naïve. When Buffy was about my age she learnt that vampires and demons existed. I was about the age of those children, about ten, maybe a little older, maybe a little younger. Buffy and then Giles and mom, when she eventually found out, lectured me continuously about how anyone could be a vampire, that they looked human until it was too late.
I guess it stuck with me. I never made friends easily, and what ten year old can when every face they see could be a mask to hide someone's true nature?
It took me a while to realise that every face you see is a mask, whether they are a demon or not. A while, but not that long.
Buffy used to be my hero, but now I've realised that she's not infallible. She occasionally stumbles and falters, she can pause at the wrong place and attack at the wrong time. She has to train, has to work, has to study. And sometimes she hates it. And she knows she could die at any minute, and has regrets. And she can't protect everyone and she can't stop every disaster. She couldn't save my mom. And she can't save me.
