CrossingShadowRiver 19
Dawn's doing her kitchen help, take two thing, boiling useless water and slicing countless pieces of fruit. She slashes at the hapless pear, methodically reducing it to into a pulpy mash. How come she's doing this instead of the vitally important stuff going on in the next room? Not that she's that keen on birthing babies or has anything to contribute, but it's the principle of the thing. It's like the past ten years haven't happened, as if she's not D. Summers, Ph.D., sought after don and queen of her particular pond. Here she's the lowest pond scum in the Buffy and Spike Park, unseen, unwanted.
She can hear Tara's soft voice, Spike's abrupt nervous sentences, silence from Buffy. When the unexpected bellow shatters the air she jumps up and runs to the door, paring knife still in her hand. What can she do? Tara talks calmly, so nothing's wrong. There are more cries, less surprised and vehement now, punctuated with terrible silences. What on earth is going on in there? She imagines Buffy bleeding, wracked with pain, dying, sad and widowed Spike. She could comfort him. Once she's in this groove the terrain is familiar, as is her isolation in the kitchen, forever shut out from where the real action is.
The little knife slithers out of her juice-slicked grasp and cuts a gash across the base of her left thumb. Bright red blood wells out silently. No doors to other worlds tear open, no dragons burst from the kitchen ceiling. Why is she here? Whatever her origins, why is she still hanging on the fringes of Buffy's life? Her very choice of profession was inspired by a desire to be useful to Buffy, to the new Council. To be in, to count for something. Who told her to take up demonic studies? No one. She should have chosen Medicine instead, or even better, returned to the U.S. Spike and Buffy never see her as an adult in her own right, never take her seriously. She's been absolutely essential to Buffy's rescue and does she get any thanks for it? No sir, no way. Willow's never invited her into the inner circle, Buffy was only too glad to escape to Tibet and Italy with Spike in tow.
"What's in it for you, Dawn?" Tara asked her a few hours ago when they were tearing cellophane wrapping from baby clothes and stuffing them in the washer. "What is your life?"
Dawn almost bursts into tears. How does Tara know these things? How does she see that Dawn still, after all these years of independence and academic success, feels like the fifth wheel in her sister's wagon?
She can learn another demon language, write another brilliant monograph on demon migration or the present location of the Old Ones, but Buffy will never really care, Spike will never love her like he does Buffy. She will never be the center of the Scoobies. The great enigma is why she wants it. The Scoobies don't even exist anymore; Spike and Buffy aren't exactly the ideal couple at the moment.
There ought to be something like justice. She liked Spike first, that's a fact. She discovered him, and that gives her certain rights. And she just knows that there's something there; that he cares for her. Of course he couldn't show it when she was still so young, but what's stopping him now? Buffy's cheated on him with the other Spike, again. It could be the right time for him to leave Buffy and strike out on his own.
She looks up and sees Tara's calm gray gaze rest on her and her thoughts are immediately exposed as the adolescent fantasies they are. Right. It's time to stop them and look around at the real world. What does she want, she, Dawn herself? Buffy doesn't need her, nor does Spike, and they shouldn't. Tara doesn't have time for her now.
A tiny wail reaches her ears. Well. That must be her niece or nephew. She can't feel much of an interest yet. She's hasn't felt what Buffy talked about, the irresistible urge to get pregnant, the yearning to have a child of your own in you arms. In fact, she hopes she'll never feel it.
Dawn straightens her back and starts making more coffee. It seems very likely that people might want coffee. And food. She's suddenly hungry herself. They haven't taken the time for breakfast this morning and it's now past noon. Okay. She stuffs some rolls into the oven. Her tasks here are almost done. Tara and Spike made it pretty clear that she was to stay out of their way, so she will.
Tara comes in with her arms full of more laundry, disgusting bloody laundry this time. Gross. She can do it herself.
Tara stares at her oddly and Dawn collects herself. "How is Buffy? And the, eh, baby?"
Tara smiles. "They're both fine. It was a very easy birth, Buffy's lucky that way."
So that yelling and groaning was easy? Way to look at it, she supposes. Is there more she should ask? "What it is it? Boy or girl?"
"Boy," Tara says.
"Name?"
"Not yet. Or anyway, they didn't say."
"Should I go in and admire it?"
"Let's leave them alone for a bit, yet," Tara says and presses the button on the washer. "Ah, coffee. Just what I need."
Huh. The other Tara always drank herbal teas. Which she could have remembered earlier and made for her, Dawn realizes.
"Don't you drink tea?"
"My mother used to," Tara says with a reminiscent smile, "but nobody else did. I…"
A key turns in the lock. Tara's eyes catch Dawn's and they both know who this is. Tara turns white and her coffee cup rattles on the stone work top. This isn't Tara's kind of crisis, Dawn decides, and she acts before she can weigh options.
She steps into the hallway and calls out loudly, "Hey Willow, didn't expect to see you here!"
She hopes Spike hasn't sunk to deep into Buffy or parental bliss to hear her.
"Hey, Dawnie," Willow answers cheerfully, but she needs several tries to retrieve her key from the lock.
Both of them are silent now. Dawn has no idea what to do. Apparently, neither has Willow.
Dawn clears her throat. "So, you coming to visit Buffy?"
"Um, yeah, I am. Right here, all ready for visiting Buffy. How is she, anyway?"
"She's good, considering. Still tired and all, I guess."
Personally, she thinks that was a good answer. Willow can read anything she wants in it. Willow moves closer and holds out her arms for a hug.
"How are you doing, Dawn?"
Dawn flinches but she thinks it isn't noticeable. She leans into Willow's hug, frantically trying to come up with another move. There are no signs of life from either from the kitchen or the bedroom. How is she supposed to resolve the situation on her own? She has no magic or super strength. Only her brains, which are much more useful in difficult translations than difficult situations.
Willow's voice buzzes in her ear, her arms still around Dawn. Bemused. "Ah. I thought so. Tell me, Dawn, what are you doing here? I think there's something you're not telling me."
She releases Dawn and smiles widely, sweetly. She's even scarier like that than when she was veiny black-haired Willow.
Think, Dawn Summers, former honors student and valedictorian. Keep her busy. Give nothing away. "Well, I found Spike, with your detector thingy, like we agreed to. And then Buffy staked him. Why are you mad at me?"
Willow frowns. "He's dust? I wondered what was wrong with my calculations. Darn. I'll have to change some of my plans."
The bedroom door finally opens and out comes a confused looking Spike. He's rumpled and glassy-eyed, with filthy hands and smears of blood on his shirt.
Willow's fingers clench convulsively on Dawn's shoulders. "Spike?"
"Willow," Spike says. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"I totally expected to see you here," Willow says brightly. "I mean, you live here, right? So you 'd be here and there's nothing strange about your being here!"
"That's right."
Now there are three people in the hallway who're saying nothing. Shouldn't somebody do something? Get Willow out of here, or make sure she doesn't see Tara, the living proof of her evil plans?
A faint cry sounds from the bedroom. Willow stiffens in Dawn's arms and steps away. "So Spike, I guess you're a Dad now. How does it feel to be a real father of a real baby? Congratulations."
Her eyes rest on Dawn. "You could have told me, Dawn. You know I would be overjoyed to get news like that. I'd like to be a godmother. Are you doing godparents, Spike?"
Spike runs his hand through his already disordered hair and shakes his head in frustration. "What the fuck are you talking about, Willow? Are you threatening me?"
"Ah. I thought Dawnie here was hiding something from me. Why do you think I would be threatening you, Spike? Haven't I always been a good friend to you both?"
"Spike, she knows the other Spike is dust. I told her," Dawn says.
Spike steps forward, but Willow flings up her hands and a force field crackles between them.
"Did you bring him here, Willow? And what for? Why would you set him loose in this world?"
Willow sighs and lowers her hands. "I had…plans for him. I'm doing experiments with timelines, and he was an interesting phenomenon. Unfortunately, he'd turned into vampire when I brought him into this world, and that made him useless to me. He had so much time inside him, you see."
"I see bugger all," Spike says. "How could you let him get to Buffy? She's your friend, for God's sake."
Willow frowns. "I was planning to turn him back into a man. I found this nifty ritual that does that, you know. I thought he'd be best off with Buffy, because he knew her and she's the Slayer. He got away from me once and I didn't want him to get killed in the London tunnels."
Spikes vibrating with anger. Dawn would die if he looked at her the way he looks at Willow now.
"Didn't you think of the baby? Didn't your realize Buffy would be in danger?" he grinds out.
"Well, she's fine now, isn't she? I knew she would be," Willow says airily.
How can she be that dismissive of other people? Are they even real to her, Dawn wonders. She cringes at own fantasies about Buffy. Like looking in a distorted mirror.
"Bloody hell, Willow! What do you want!"
Spike's agonized bellow almost shatters Dawn's eardrums. Yeah, what does Willow want? She's by far the most powerful person here and she could squash them all like bugs.
"Well?" Willow says. "Where's Tara and what have you done with her?"
"I'm here, Willow," Tara's cool voice says.
Willow flushes brightly and flashes a relieved smile at Tara before she collects herself. For one second she looks like the sweet Willow she was. What is Dawn to think of her now? It's like she's two people, scary evil Willow, if not veiny right now, and trembling Willow in love. Like Angelus and Angel, only with less fuss.
"Tara, sweetie, I was so worried when you weren't home! Why did you leave?" she says, pouting slightly.
Dawn thinks that women over thirty shouldn't pout.
"Willow, we know what you've been doing with all the other Taras," Spike says. "Why, Willow? What's the point of repeating your mistakes?"
Willow frowns, and the force field around her bulges outward for a moment. "Loving Tara is not a mistake, Spike. You knew her, how can you say that?"
"It is if they keep leaving you."
"They don't…" Willow shouts but collects herself quickly. "That's because they're not close enough to the real Tara. She forgave me. She came back to me. If I find the right one she will too."
"Am I the right one, Willow?" Tara says softly and walks up to her, putting a hand on her cheek.
Willow swallows and blinks rapidly. "I don't know. You went away, too."
"Why did they all leave you, baby?" Tara asks. "Did they say?"
Willow grimaces and turns her face away from Tara. "They said I shouldn't use magic so much. They said they didn't want me to make them over into the original Tara, the real Tara. They just wouldn't see that she was perfect, perfect for me, and that I needed her back."
Willow looks up and flinches away when her eyes catch Spike's. "I deserve to be loved, don't I? Why won't they love me?"
"You started to look at me funny, too," she says to Tara. "I should have know, your reality was so far away from the real Tara's, you had to be different. But I used up the Taras in the closest realities, you see. That's why I needed Spike. I wanted to go back in time, so I could save her from Warren. I needed someone who was there as an anchor. I'm a good friend, I didn't want to use any of you guys, because I didn't know if it would go well, I didn't want you guys harmed. See? I do think of people! I'm a good person."
"You could be, honey," Tara says, so gently that Dawn is amazed.
Tara can't still love Willow, can she? Not after what she said. She's so creepy.
Willow claps her hands before her eyes. "Don't look at me like that! I'm dangerous. I could turn you all into toads or little piles of ashes if I wanted to."
"I know you won't do that, Willow. I'm here for you and I won't go away." Tara takes Willow's hand and tugs her towards the door. "Come. Let's go back home. Spike and Buffy and the baby need rest. Come. I missed you."
Dawn is too awed and surprised to say anything while the two women leave, but when the door slams behind them she turns to Spike.
"Spike, we can't let Tara go back with Willow! God knows what she'll do to her! We can't let her sacrifice herself."
Spike shrugs. "D'you want to sacrifice yourself instead? I don't think Willow wants you. And I'm not so sure it's sacrifice. Our Tara seems to like Willow well enough, or she wouldn't do it."
"How can she? Willow's evil! We still don't know what happened to the other Taras."
"True. Goes to show that even evil people can be loved, I guess. I'm just glad she's gone and Buffy and the baby are safe. I'll get worried about Willow and the council and the rest of the world later."
"Spike!"
He's turned his back on her already and gets back to the bedroom, leaving her alone in the hallway.
The whole scene she just witnessed only strengthens her resolve to get the hell out of Buffy's life and back to her own. Time to say goodbye to some fond dreams and start thinking of some new ones. She can't win if she stays here.
TBC