TITLE: Negative Space
AUTHOR: Ben is Glory
RATING: PG
TIMELINE: During the summer before S6 when Buffy is dead.
DISCLAIMER: ME, and that's not just "me" capitalized.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well I loved this concept. I really do. And if you can, I encourage everybody to go out and read Eve In Darkness by Kaatje Hurlbut, from which this piece is inspired.
FEEDBACK: Reviews make me verra happy xD
***
"Remember, we're not drawing the object.
We're drawing the negative space around the object."
***
Death had taken its toll on the group. The friends hardly ever talked. When they did, it was always quiet and somber, and never about her. So much had changed since that fateful day when Buffy Summers had died. Willow and Tara had moved into the Summers' house, into Joyce's room. Spike was more involved with the Scooby gang now that they were short one super hero. Besides, he had made a promise to a lady: he needed to protect Dawn.
One day in late July, Willow made a helpful suggestion to busy their minds. "We need a spring cleaning day. Only, you know, summer cleaning. Same thing," she offered. Dawn wasn't really into the concept, but she knew that Willow really missed Buffy, so she agreed it was a good idea.
Dawn had gone through all of her room. She found a bunch of old junk; stuff from her childhood, mainly old diaries, pens that don't work anymore, CDs she wouldn't be caught dead with now. God, *what* was I thinking? she thought. I was *such* a weird kid. She smiled at the memories of years past, of her sister and her mom. But they're not coming back.
She moved quickly to her closet, blinking back tears. She looked into a deep pit of clothes, bags, and shoes. She abruptly sat down on the floor and began rummaging through the assorted possessions. She stopped suddenly when she found a piece of paper with a figure of a woman drawn on it. But it wasn't the woman that was drawn, it was the negative space around her.
A memory flickered in Dawn's mind. She remembered the day when she had sketched the figure. The day Kirsty, the prima bee-yotch, had made her cry. The day she made a connection with Kevin, the boy she had a crush on. The day her sister pulled her out of art class. The day her mother died. A single tear slid down her cheek as she stared down at the picture.
Her sister. The person that had fought so courageously to keep her safe. To protect her from vampires, monsters, Glory. The same person who had sacrificed herself so that Dawn wouldn't have to die. So that the world would be there in the morning to see the sun come up. What did she tell me? Death was her gift. The gift that kept on taking.
At that moment, her mind was rid of the fog that had once clouded it. Everything became clear. Dawn *was* the figure in the drawing. She was completely alone. All she had left was negative space.
