2. Five Weeks
Saturday mornings she gets up with her namesake, makes
coffee and hot chocolate, and goes out on the back
porch to wait. Friday nights are the big hunting night
now, the night when most of the gang takes out whatever
monsters are left over from the Hellmouth's
disappearance, and they're out sometimes until
sunlight takes care of the problem for them. They go without
her now and then not because she can't help, but because she knows
they'll ask her along if they really need her.
Dawn blows on her cocoa, still sleepy but unwilling to
give up this ritual. She'll go back to bed after they're fed,
after she knows they're safe. She'll lie there content with the
sounds in the house and the light peeking in under the shades.
And she'll think about telling them, one more time, what really
happened and where Buffy and Spike really are.
She always decides not to. Not because Giles said not
to, after she told him. He muttered a lot of things
about "false hope" and "unverified" and "uncertain",
along with words about time dilation and
extra-dimensional effects. She isn't entirely
convinced he believes her, in spite of his magic
babble. But she knows what she knows.
They might not come back to this world within her
lifetime. Telling Xander and Willow where her sister
is might be crueler than letting them believe she's dead,
leaving them waiting and hoping for a Christmas that
will never come. Like the last time she died.
But that isn't what stops her. She doesn't tell
because she's sure -- some where deep, past anything
human -- that Buffy will come back. And that if she
doesn't come back, Dawn will know when she's really gone.
Being the Key is nothing she's ever been able to
touch, or describe, or even believe in most of the
time. But maybe this is part of it, the same way she
was the only one left conscious and standing when
Buffy had to make her choice. Too stunned to correct
them at first, when they assumed Buffy and Spike were
dead, and then she realized what it all meant....
Which is the other reason she hasn't told Willow and
Xander what happened. She won't hurt them the way it
hurt her, to have Buffy choose Spike to fight the good
fight with on another plane. She understands the reasons
why, and they were all good reasons. She's just not
sure if they would've been enough by themselves, or if Buffy
would've asked him to go with her anyway, even if he
weren't a fighter, the strongest one, the one with the
least to lose.
"Dawn, it has to be him."
"And I'll bet that makes you happy." She'd been
crying. Left behind again. "This is so unfair! You
promised you wouldn't do this--"
"I'll never be happy to leave you." A hug, a whisper.
"Try to forgive me. Please? I will come back."
She didn't want to forgive her. But it is comforting,
knowing that Spike has Buffy's back. He'll get her home,
if anyone can. Some day, maybe, she'll tell Willow, and
Xander. When they miss her a little less, when it won't
seem like a betrayal.
Buffy will come back, or she won't. Angel and Cordelia
will return with them, or they won't. Dawn will still
be alive when they get back, or she'll be gone, or
she'll be changed, if this strange confidence in her
bones turns her into something *else*, something more
than human. Until then, she can wait. There's a pulse
inside her, like an atomic clock, counting off the
seconds until her sister's return. The universe will
have to stop before that knowledge would fade.
She can hear Xander's voice now, coming up the street,
and Willow's raised a little higher. She wonders if
they've got enough laundry detergent left to clean up
whatever mess they got into out there, or if Faith
will end up wanting to borrow her clothes again. It's
ridiculous. They don't fit her, and it's not like
Faith can't get her own clothes. The tight pink and
gold top she's wearing now, as she walks across the yard,
for instance: it's Dawn's, and it makes Faith look
like a stripper who shrunk her off-duty shirts.
"Hey, D." Faith leans against the railing and grins at
her, swiping the mug out of her hand to take a sip.
"Mmm. Good. But no marshmellows, what's up with that?"
"A long and sordid story of Buffy traumatizing me
when I was little." She grabs the cup back
and rolls her eyes at Xander. "Someone's hyped. Didja
get it?"
"One Fek'lath demon dispatched and half a dozen eggs
destroyed after tramping through every god-forsaken
square inch of Breaker's Woods. Remind me to take
spray paint with us the next time we track something
invisible," he says to Willow, who nods wearily.
"Who knew the stupid monster could be so quiet?" Faith
says defensively. "It was freakin' huge, it shouldn't
have been that hard--"
Dawn frowns at this. "I *told* you it had hiding mojo,
but did you believe me? No? Did anyone? No. Next time,
will we listen to Dawn, the Research Queen?" she asks,
glaring around at the trio before her.
It had taken time for them to accept Faith, but the
groundwork had already been laid before Buffy
disappeared. Apologies. A lot of crying. Empathy and
guilt from Willow, wary forgiveness from Xander. And
the need for a Slayer, any Slayer, who was willing to
do the job, which Faith is. Anything to make up for
what she thinks is her failure.
If a small, mean part of Dawn lets Faith think Buffy is
dead to punish her for not dying or leaving instead of
her sister, it's balanced out by the grown-up part that's
decided to tell her the truth when she's ready for it.
When she's not jumping at shadows, not trying so hard to prove
herself. When Dawn can deal with the abandonment a
little easier herself.
She blinks, aware she almost fell asleep for a
second over her cocoa, zoning out on how everything has
changed.
"Yes, Dawnie," Willow is saying, a little indulgently.
"You kick research butt. I hand over the crown of
Research Girl to you without qualms or conditions."
"Damn straight." She gets to her feet, shuffling for
the door, her eyes still half-closed. "Xander, I
got another postcard from Anya yesterday. She says to
tell you hi, and she's on a topless beach in Nice."
Faith chortles, Willow snorts, and Xander groans at
this information. Dawn grins, yawns, and heads for the
cabinets.
"Who's up for pancakes?"
~*~
Christina
kikimariposa@prodigy.net
Saturday mornings she gets up with her namesake, makes
coffee and hot chocolate, and goes out on the back
porch to wait. Friday nights are the big hunting night
now, the night when most of the gang takes out whatever
monsters are left over from the Hellmouth's
disappearance, and they're out sometimes until
sunlight takes care of the problem for them. They go without
her now and then not because she can't help, but because she knows
they'll ask her along if they really need her.
Dawn blows on her cocoa, still sleepy but unwilling to
give up this ritual. She'll go back to bed after they're fed,
after she knows they're safe. She'll lie there content with the
sounds in the house and the light peeking in under the shades.
And she'll think about telling them, one more time, what really
happened and where Buffy and Spike really are.
She always decides not to. Not because Giles said not
to, after she told him. He muttered a lot of things
about "false hope" and "unverified" and "uncertain",
along with words about time dilation and
extra-dimensional effects. She isn't entirely
convinced he believes her, in spite of his magic
babble. But she knows what she knows.
They might not come back to this world within her
lifetime. Telling Xander and Willow where her sister
is might be crueler than letting them believe she's dead,
leaving them waiting and hoping for a Christmas that
will never come. Like the last time she died.
But that isn't what stops her. She doesn't tell
because she's sure -- some where deep, past anything
human -- that Buffy will come back. And that if she
doesn't come back, Dawn will know when she's really gone.
Being the Key is nothing she's ever been able to
touch, or describe, or even believe in most of the
time. But maybe this is part of it, the same way she
was the only one left conscious and standing when
Buffy had to make her choice. Too stunned to correct
them at first, when they assumed Buffy and Spike were
dead, and then she realized what it all meant....
Which is the other reason she hasn't told Willow and
Xander what happened. She won't hurt them the way it
hurt her, to have Buffy choose Spike to fight the good
fight with on another plane. She understands the reasons
why, and they were all good reasons. She's just not
sure if they would've been enough by themselves, or if Buffy
would've asked him to go with her anyway, even if he
weren't a fighter, the strongest one, the one with the
least to lose.
"Dawn, it has to be him."
"And I'll bet that makes you happy." She'd been
crying. Left behind again. "This is so unfair! You
promised you wouldn't do this--"
"I'll never be happy to leave you." A hug, a whisper.
"Try to forgive me. Please? I will come back."
She didn't want to forgive her. But it is comforting,
knowing that Spike has Buffy's back. He'll get her home,
if anyone can. Some day, maybe, she'll tell Willow, and
Xander. When they miss her a little less, when it won't
seem like a betrayal.
Buffy will come back, or she won't. Angel and Cordelia
will return with them, or they won't. Dawn will still
be alive when they get back, or she'll be gone, or
she'll be changed, if this strange confidence in her
bones turns her into something *else*, something more
than human. Until then, she can wait. There's a pulse
inside her, like an atomic clock, counting off the
seconds until her sister's return. The universe will
have to stop before that knowledge would fade.
She can hear Xander's voice now, coming up the street,
and Willow's raised a little higher. She wonders if
they've got enough laundry detergent left to clean up
whatever mess they got into out there, or if Faith
will end up wanting to borrow her clothes again. It's
ridiculous. They don't fit her, and it's not like
Faith can't get her own clothes. The tight pink and
gold top she's wearing now, as she walks across the yard,
for instance: it's Dawn's, and it makes Faith look
like a stripper who shrunk her off-duty shirts.
"Hey, D." Faith leans against the railing and grins at
her, swiping the mug out of her hand to take a sip.
"Mmm. Good. But no marshmellows, what's up with that?"
"A long and sordid story of Buffy traumatizing me
when I was little." She grabs the cup back
and rolls her eyes at Xander. "Someone's hyped. Didja
get it?"
"One Fek'lath demon dispatched and half a dozen eggs
destroyed after tramping through every god-forsaken
square inch of Breaker's Woods. Remind me to take
spray paint with us the next time we track something
invisible," he says to Willow, who nods wearily.
"Who knew the stupid monster could be so quiet?" Faith
says defensively. "It was freakin' huge, it shouldn't
have been that hard--"
Dawn frowns at this. "I *told* you it had hiding mojo,
but did you believe me? No? Did anyone? No. Next time,
will we listen to Dawn, the Research Queen?" she asks,
glaring around at the trio before her.
It had taken time for them to accept Faith, but the
groundwork had already been laid before Buffy
disappeared. Apologies. A lot of crying. Empathy and
guilt from Willow, wary forgiveness from Xander. And
the need for a Slayer, any Slayer, who was willing to
do the job, which Faith is. Anything to make up for
what she thinks is her failure.
If a small, mean part of Dawn lets Faith think Buffy is
dead to punish her for not dying or leaving instead of
her sister, it's balanced out by the grown-up part that's
decided to tell her the truth when she's ready for it.
When she's not jumping at shadows, not trying so hard to prove
herself. When Dawn can deal with the abandonment a
little easier herself.
She blinks, aware she almost fell asleep for a
second over her cocoa, zoning out on how everything has
changed.
"Yes, Dawnie," Willow is saying, a little indulgently.
"You kick research butt. I hand over the crown of
Research Girl to you without qualms or conditions."
"Damn straight." She gets to her feet, shuffling for
the door, her eyes still half-closed. "Xander, I
got another postcard from Anya yesterday. She says to
tell you hi, and she's on a topless beach in Nice."
Faith chortles, Willow snorts, and Xander groans at
this information. Dawn grins, yawns, and heads for the
cabinets.
"Who's up for pancakes?"
~*~
Christina
kikimariposa@prodigy.net