Becoming What?
mistymidnight
Summary: Dawn's thoughts after Buffy runs away between seasons two and three.
Author's Notes: This is my second draft of this chapter. Sorry it took so long to update.
:-)
Also, the reference to Mr. Gordo, Shady B, and a crime ring pertains to my story Interrogation. Go ahead and read it if you so desire. The whole 'squealing' pun comes from Dorothy4, who reviewed Interrogation and left that hilarious witticism.
I hate Buffy.
I hate Buffy, and I hate Mom. I hate Giles and Willow and Xander and Cordelia and Oz. I hate Angel. But I mostly hate Buffy. And Mom.
Why do they have to be so stubborn? Why don't they trust each other? Why couldn't Buffy trust me?
I never squealed on her and Angel's late-night kissing fests. That ought to count for something.
I never told Mom that Buffy came in late every night. I could hear her through the walls. There isn't enough insulation-stuff in this house. I could hear everything that happened in Buffy's room.
Insulation doesn't matter now, though, because there's nothing in Buffy's room to hear.
I went in there yesterday in search of Mr. Gordo. I couldn't find him. Then I remembered where she keeps him. She decided to hide him after I questioned his involvement in a crime ring. He squealed on her. Ha, get it, squealed? Well, anyway, I checked the closet, underneath her pile of shoes, and he wasn't there. So she was gone for real, then. Where Buffy went, Mr. Gordo went as well. That's why the case was so easy to crack. Buffy was an obvious partner in crime.
I went back to my room and filed an arrest warrant for Mr. Gordo, in relation to the disappearance of Buffy Summers.
Willow came by yesterday. The first thing she did was address Mom: "Hello, Mrs. Summers." Very formal and very not-Willow. Mom had told her a little while ago to call her Joyce. And Willow had started to. But it was back to Mrs. Summers now. Mom didn't object. Instead, she said, "Hello, Willow."
She used to say "Hello, dear," when Willow came over, but now she calls her by name. I think they're mad at each other, but I'm not sure.
Willow had cleaned out Buffy's locker and brought her stuff over. "Principal Snyder almost didn't let me," she said, "but Cordy, of all people, pulled some strings, and he let me take her stuff to you."
This is the worst part of Buffy being gone. Everyone acts like she's dead. For all I know, she could be. And no one bothers to explain things to me.
I know now that Buffy's a Slayer. Can't say I'm surprised, what with the weird hours and the violent record and the history of overall destruction. But on another level, I'm angry. Why didn't she just tell me? Why didn't Willow? Why didn't anyone?
Mom took the bagful of stuff from Willow. "Thank you."
I took it out of her hands. "I wanna see," I said.
Mom took the bag back gently. "Sweetheart, now is not the time—"
"Give me the bag." My voice sounded strange, even to me, dark and low and scary. Mom gave it to me.
I opened it and pulled out some gym clothes—a Sunnydale High School T-shirt and yellow sweat shorts. I pulled out a pile of papers, mostly with big red D's scribbled across the top. I found a progress report, one she probably got issued right before she left. And then I found a stake. Mom gasped when she saw it.
"Uh, maybe I should, uh, take this," Willow stammered. "I mean…um…if you, uh, don't want it around, I…"
Mom held up her hand to stop Willow. "I'm keeping it," she said quietly. "It's part of who she was."
Willow nodded. I went bag to digging through the bag as Mom turned the stake over in her hands, her fingerprints marking its shiny surface. She seemed to notice this and she quickly used her sleeve to polish it. My hands felt the inside of the bag, and I pulled out a bumper sticker. It was torn around the edges, with white lines where it had ripped and been stuck back together on the paper.
"I managed to pull that off the wall inside her locker," Willow said. "I stuck it on a piece of paper so it wouldn't crumple up and stick to itself.
It was a Dingoes Ate My Baby bumper sticker. As far as I knew, Buffy was never a huge fan of the band. She liked them and everything, but she'd probably stuck the sticker in her locker to support Willow and Oz more than the actual band.
"Dingoes Ate My Baby," Mom read, sounding confused.
"It's a band," I told her. "Oz's band."
"Oz," she said, trying to place the name.
"Willow's boyfriend," I told her, "not the city where Dorothy goes."
"Oh," she said.
"Because that would be silly," I said, babbling on. The tension was building up and I desperately needed to break it. "I mean, if they, I mean Oz—the city Oz, not the person Oz—formed a band, they could name it something more wizardly, like The Munchkins or The Lullaby League…even though the names? Kinda low on the cool factor."
Willow smiled at me a little. "You talk just like Buffy."
"Only when I'm nervous," I said, then realized my slip and continued, "about nothing. Yep, when I'm completely comfy with life, I talk…like…"
Then I realized what I said again. "Completely comfy with life…" My life without Buffy.
Maybe that's why everyone talks about her like she's dead. Maybe it's 'cuz in some way, she is.
Whew. That took awhile to write. Lucky I can type fast.
More soon…please review! (It gets the old noggin going…)
mistymidnight